What If... All the Rumors Were True (3 page)

“So open your books and let's try the first math practice test,” Mr. Hausner said. “I'll time you. You have fifteen minutes. Ready? Go.”

The room fell quiet, except for the sound of scratching pencils. Haley worked the math problems as quickly as she could, filling in the appropriate A-B-C-D-E bubbles on the standardized test sheet. An hour later, Mr. Hausner went over the answers with the class. Haley was surprised to see she'd gotten all but one of the problems right. She'd done even better than Annie and Dave. She'd never really thought of herself as a math whiz but…who knew?

Reese tapped Haley's shoulder and, when she turned around, grinned that melting smile at her. “How'd you do?”

“Eleven out of twelve,” Haley said. “How about you?”

He just grinned wider, but Haley looked down at his desk and saw that he'd gotten twelve out of twelve. “Eleven's a good score,” he taunted. “Have you ever thought about joining the calculus team? We could use another brain like you for the Math Olympics.”

“The math team?” Frankly, the thought had never entered Haley's mind. Maybe this was the way to solve for the square root of Reese.

“I'll think about it,” she said, collecting her things. “Oh, and don't let Sasha outrun you on the way home,” she added, jesting with him.

“Ha!” Reese laughed at the idea.

“I don't know, Highland. If you ask me, the summer made you soft.” And with that, she strutted outside to meet her father in the parking lot.

Ah, another diary-worthy moment with the infamous Reese Highland. He and Haley are like Hepburn and Tracy, Bogey and Bacall, Brad and Angie. But even though Reese might be right for Haley, is he necessarily the best thing for her? If Haley falls for Reese all over again, will he support her and encourage her in her schoolwork? Or overshadow her and distract her from her goals? And where will she rank in his life? Above or below soccer, track, math club and basketball?

Decisions, decisions! It's not always easy being a well-rounded girl like Haley. She has a lot of options in front of her, and her academic—and social—future rides on the choices you make for her now. If you think the debate team is the road to college bliss, have her join Annie on
"UP FOR DEBATE"
. To have Haley make her theatrical debut,
"TOTAL DRAMA"
. If you think Haley should put herself in the running for an athletic scholarship down the line, send her to soccer practice with Sasha on
"FOR KICKS"
. Alternatively, you can get a behind-the-scenes glimpse at Mrs. Eton's campaign for governor in
"FIRST LADIES"
. Finally, if you think she should follow her heart and her brain to the math wing to see what Reese is up to after school these days, go to
"MATH OLYMPICS"
.

The seeds of tomorrow are planted today. So, what's going to sprout up in Haley's next crop?

MEET THE TUTOR

There are some things you just can't teach, and others you don't want to learn.

“W
elcome to the Willkommen abode.” Shaun stood at the heavy reclaimed-wood door to his family's surprisingly sleek and modern house—surprising because Shaun himself was neither sleek nor modern—while Haley, Irene and Devon dragged themselves up the steps and inside for their first tutoring session. “I welcome you on this glorious afternoon, which would more pleasantly be spent taking welcome shelter under the welcoming oaks on the lawn.
Welcome
is our word of the day. And we Willkommens are nothing if not welcoming.” He added under his breath, “Now, will someone please put me out of my misery?”

“I know, babe,” Irene said, as Shaun licked her cheek hello. “I can't believe school just ended for the day and now here we are…back for more.”

“And after a whole summer full of summer school,” Devon complained. “It's like I'm stuck in—”

“A never-ending math equation?” Irene suggested.

Shaun had a devilish look in his eye. “The universe works on a math equation that never even ever really even ends in the end,” he belted out, duplicating the staccato highs and lows of the Modest Mouse ditty.

“Yeah, and worse, we're high school students,” snarked Irene. “And that means we're still under legal obligation to do whatever the heck our parents tell us.”

“Only two more years to go, though,” Devon said, his eyes looking far away at the freedoms that were yet to come.

“I know it sucks now,” Shaun said. “But this tutoring crap will be worth it if it keeps me from ever having to go to HOE again. EOH morf em evaS.” Haley glanced at Irene for instant translation.

“Save me from HOE,” Irene said. HOE, as in “Hell on Earth,” was Shaun's chosen name for summer school. Shaun had the unique ability to be able to read sentences in reverse. After years of friendship and a few months of dating, Irene was miraculously able to understand him.

It wasn't that they weren't smart, the three of them. Irene and Devon were among the brightest students at Hillsdale High, albeit in the artistic, unconventional sense. (With Shaun it was kind of hard to tell, but he did have that freakish backward-talking thing going for him.) But last spring they'd spent so much time cutting class, goofing off and just generally “enjoying life” that they'd all been ordered to go to summer school or repeat their sophomore year. And now, to prevent history from repeating itself next summer, and also because of the added pressure of junior-year transcripts, the most important grades in the most important year as far as college admissions committees were concerned, the Chens and the Willkommens had teamed up to pay for a private tutor for the artsy delinquents. Shaun's cousin, one Xavier Willkommen, was hired for the job.

“It won't be so bad,” Shaun said. “Xav's pretty cool, once you get used to his—what does my dad call them?—his quirks.”

“A quirky member of the Willkommen brood?” Irene asked. “You don't say.”

“You'll see,” Shaun said. “He goes to Tisch School of the Arts for acting. He's a theth-pian.” As he said the word
thespian,
Shaun pranced around on his tiptoes, flapping his hands at the wrists. He was pretty graceful for a still slightly chubby guy. “He should be here any sec. Till he gets here, who's up for banana cheese melts? With anchovies?”

Haley, Irene and Devon exchanged glances but said nothing.

“No takers, huh?” Shaun said. “All the more for me.”

“Do you have any yogurt? And maybe some granola?” Haley asked. She was a little hungry after a long day of school—just not hungry enough to stomach one of Shaun's specialty sandwiches.

“That depends. Do you take your granola with marshmallows and wasabi peas in it?” Shaun asked.

“Uh, no thanks,” said Haley.

“Well, I think we gots some vanilla yogurty-goop in the fridge,” Shaun said, leading them all into the kitchen. “Mom keeps all kind of weird stuff in there.” Haley sorted through the entirely unweird refrigerator, locating some plain sliced cheddar cheese. “Hey, catch,” Shaun said, throwing a green apple, hard, in Haley's direction. She turned just in time to instinctively raise her arms up and catch it. “She's an athlete,” Shaun said as the doorbell rang. A few minutes later, an extremely tall, extremely thin young man in his early twenties strode with much affectation into the kitchen, looking as if he expected everyone to burst into applause at the sight of him. “Ladies and Devster, I give you…our tutor, Xavier,” Shaun announced.

“Delightful to meet you ALL,” Xavier said. His wispy blond hair was cropped into a bob at his pointy chin, and he had a long, dramatic nose, the tip of which bent down and nearly met his slender upper lip. Xavier wore a billowing white shirt tucked into narrow black jeans, which in turn were tucked into his black Beatle boots. “Thhall we RETIRE to the thtudy?”

He turned and glided out of the kitchen, assuming his pupils would follow him. Irene looked at Haley. “Did he jutht thay ‘thtudy'?”

Haley shrugged. “Maybe hith tongue thlipped.” They followed, curious, and settled themselves at a round table near a set of floor-to-ceiling bookcases. “Now, Thhaun, who ARE your friendth?” Xavier commanded. “Come now, don't be thhy. Introduthe yourselvth.” Xavier pointed at Irene. “Who are you?”

“Irene Chen.”

“My couthin hath ethellent tathte. And you?”

“Haley Miller.”

“You have hair like Rita Hayworth.”

He pointed his pen at Devon. “You mutht be Devon McKnight, boy photographer. Tho, we are all prethent and accounted for. Letth get thtarted, thhall we, my little thpathe cadetth? Firtht quarter, Englithh—you're covering drama. Which jutht happenth to be my thpethialty. And you're thtarting with Thhakethpeare. Perfect.”

Irene gave him a sheet of paper. “Here'th the thyllabuth,” she said, before blushing. “Sorry. It's sort of contagious. Like Shaun told you, we're reading
A Midsummer Night's Dream
first, because the drama club is doing a production of it this fall.”

Xavier clapped his hands. “Yeth!
Dream
is ethellent comedy. Theater ITH life, you know. Thtudy theater, and you'll learn about the HUMAN THOUL. Ath the great Richard Burton once thaid, ‘The theater bringth an actor down through the BLOOD and the MUD and the GUTTH, but if he survivth he'll EMERGE through the HIGHETHT REACHETH of the HUMAN THOUL into HEAVEN itthelf.'”

Haley and the other tutorees stared at him. Shaun said, “Xavier, man, what have you been smoking?”

“You're right, Thhaun,” Xavier said. “Richard Burton never actually thaid that. I made up the quote, but itth THERTAINLY thomething he MIGHT have thaid. Now, do any of you have any theatrical ethperienthe?”

Haley glanced from Devon to Shaun to Irene, and they all stared back at her.

“Dude, you're jiving me, right?” Shaun exclaimed. “I mean, this is what passes for tutoring?”

“Right again, Thhaun,” Xavier said. “I am JIVING you. Well, I wath GOING to thuggetht that you all try out for the play, thince thereth no better way to learn Thhakethpeare than to thpeak hith wordth ath he meant them to be thpoken—from the thtage. But
Dream
ith VERY challenging. If you've never acted before, you won't be catht. Tho, whatth the point of trying out?” He sighed and glanced at the syllabus again. “Too bad, becauthe I could have coached the HECK out of you. But you don't have it in you, do you? You don't have the COJONETH to TRY.” He focused on Shaun as he passed them each a copy of the play. “You can read thith at home. We'll thtart with math today. A rather long math equathion.”

Shaun's eyes shone as he flipped through the play. “Check this: there's a dude named Bottom in here.”

“Yeth, yeth, Nick Bottom, HA-HA,” Xavier said. “HILARIOUTH. But never mind that. Get OVER it. Never mind that Puck cathtth a thpell on him that turnth hith head into an arth'th.”

“An ass for a head!” Shaun cried. “Awesome.” A light seemed to flicker on behind his eyes.

“Uh-oh,” Irene said. “I know that look.”

“So do I,” Devon said.

“What look?” Shaun said, fake-innocently.

“You had the same look when you decided to become the Evel Knievel of track and field,” Devon said. “It's a look of crazed obsession. It's a look of un-stoppability.”

“This is not an obsession,” Shaun insisted. “And it's not crazed. It makes perfect sense.”

“WHAT are you all talking about?” Xavier said. “Fill me in, pleathe.”

“I'm going to play Nick Bottom in the play this fall,” Shaun said. “Just you watch me.”

Xavier laughed. “Oh, Thhaun, Thhaun, Thhaun, that's a LAUDABLE goal, really. But you'll NEVER get the part. Not in a MILLION yearth.”

“I'm serious,” Shaun said. “Any dude named Bottom with a donkey's head is a dude I can relate to.”

“But Thhaun, Bottom ith a major role,” Xavier said. “You'll be up againtht kidth with MUCHO acting ethperienthe—maybe even PROFETHIONAL ethperienthe, knowing THITH nutty town. You don't have a chanthe.”

“Watch me,” Shaun said. He turned around, stuck out his chubby butt and slapped it. “Bottom—that's me. I was born to play this part, man.”

“Oh my God,” Irene said. “He's really going to do it.”

“Not just me. You're all gonna be in the play with me,” Shaun said. “Right, Rini?”

“I don't know, Shaun,” Irene said. “Drama club is just the kind of thing I've tried to avoid all these years.”

“It would look pretty good on our college transcripts,” Haley added.

“That'th thertainly true,” Xavier said. “That ith, if you don't get laughed off the thtage.”

Precisely what Irene seemed to be afraid of. Drama club? Haley had never even thought of acting before. Did she have any talent? Did any of them? This looked like a recipe for either schoolwide fame or utter humiliation. Shaun was used to public embarrassment—thrived on it, even—but Haley preferred to keep her missteps as private as humanly possible, and she had a feeling Irene and Devon shared those sentiments.

“Come on, you guys, who's with me?” Shaun flipped through the play. “Look, there's a queen of the fairies—perfect for you, McKnight—and woodland creatures and all kinds of great parts for you girls. We'll rock the school! Take over from the inside. Those drama geeks won't know what hit them.”

Xavier cleared his throat. “Ethcuthe ME, but I find the term
drama geek
offenthive.”

Shaun rolled his eyes. “What do you say, kids? Going to join me on the boards? Will we see our names in lights?”

“I guess I'm in,” Irene said. “I mean, why not, right?”

“If you guys are in, I'll try out too,” Devon said. “Goodness knows I need something to put on my college application.”

“What about you, Miller?” Shaun trained his crazed eyes on Haley. “I'll be an ass. But will you be a chicken?”

It looks as if Irene and Devon may be catching Shaun's strain of the theater bug. But is Haley ready for the spotlight? Come to think of it, is Shaun? Ready or not, he's found his new obsession. But that doesn't mean Haley has to follow in his chunky footsteps.

To invite more dramatic ups and downs into Haley's life, flip to
"TOTAL DRAMA"
. If you think Haley should know what her natural talents are by now and focus on her sporty side, send her to soccer practice on
"FOR KICKS"
.

Life is full of drama, not only on the stage. But thethpianth, as Xavier calls them, usually know how to live large. Acting in the play could bring a new dimension into Haley's life—or it could so overload her schedule that she wears herself out. How much can Haley handle? How far she gets pushed out of her comfort zone is up to you.