Free The Wave by Todd Strasser Page A

the students are not falling behind?”
    “If anything, they’re ahead,” Ben replied.
    “But there are students outside your class that are now involved with this,” the principal observed.
    “But there have been no complaints,” Ben said. “In fact Christy says she’s even noticed an improvement in her classes because of it.” This was a slight exaggeration, Ben knew. But he also felt it was necessary because Owens was overreacting to The Wave.
    “Still, Ben, these mottos and this saluting bother me,” the principal said.
    “It shouldn’t,” Ben replied. “It’s just part of the game. And also, Norm Schiller—”
    “Yes, yes, I know,” Owens said, cutting him short. “He was in here yesterday raving about this thing. He says it’s literally turned that football team of his around. The way he was talking, Ben, you would have thought he’d just drafted six future Heisman Trophy winners. Frankly, I’d just like to see them beat Clarkstown on Saturday.” The principal paused momentarily and then said, “But that’s not what I’m concerned about, Ben. I’m concerned about the students. This Wave thing seems too open-ended formy liking. I know you haven’t broken any rules, but there are limits.”
    “I’m completely aware of that,” Ben insisted. “You have to understand that this experiment can’t go any further than I let it go. The whole basis for The Wave is the idea of a group willing to follow their leader. And as long as I’m involved in this, I assure you it can’t get out of hand.”
    Principal Owens refilled his pipe with fresh tobacco and lit it, for a moment disappearing behind a small cloud of smoke while he considered Ben’s words. “Okay” he said. “To be perfectly frank about this, it’s so different from anything we’ve ever had around here that I’m not sure what to think. I say, let’s keep an eye on this thing, Ben. And keep your ears open too. Remember, Ben, this experiment, if that’s what you want to call it, involves young, impressionable kids. Sometimes we forget that they are young and haven’t developed the, uh, the judgment we hope they’ll someday have. Sometimes they can take something too far if they’re not watched. Understand?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “You promise me I’m not going to have a parade of parents down here suddenly shouting that we’re indoctrinating their kids with something?”
    “I promise,” Ben said.
    Principal Owens nodded slightly. “Well, I can’t say that I’m crazy about this, but you’ve never given me cause to doubt you before.”
    “And I won’t now,” Ben told him.

CHAPTER 11
    W hen Laurie Saunders got to the publications office the next day, she found a plain white envelope on the floor. Early that morning, or late the afternoon before, someone must have slipped it under the door. Laurie picked it up and closed the door behind her. Inside the envelope was a handwritten story with a note attached. Laurie read the note:
Dear Editors of The Grapevine ,
This is a story I have written for The Grapevine . Don’t bother looking for my name because you won’t find it. I don’t want my friends or other kids to know I wrote this.
    Scowling, Laurie turned to the story. At the top of the page the anonymous author had written a title:
    Welcome to the Wave—or Else
I’m a junior here at Gordon High. Three or four days ago me and my friends heard about this thing called The Wave that all the seniors were getting into. We got interested. You know how juniors always want to be like the seniors .
A bunch of us went to Mr. Ross’s class to see what it was. Some of my friends liked what we heard, but some of us weren’t sure. It looked like a dumb game to me .
When the class was over, we started to leave. But this senior stopped us in the hall. I didn’t know him, but he said he was in Mr. Ross’s class and asked did we want to join The Wave. Two of my friends said yes and two said they didn’t know and I said I