Free Sleeping Freshmen Never Lie by David Lubar

“does that make us the two Musketeers?”
    “Something like that,” I said.
    We played a couple games of H-O-R-S-E. Then I dropped out and let them play one-on-one. I sat on the side of the court and started reading. Right when I was really getting into the story, something whizzed past my face and smacked the book from my hands.
    “Are you crazy?” I shouted at Kyle.
    “It slipped,” he said, giving me a grin as he chased after the basketball.
    “No, it didn’t,” I said.
    He scooped up the ball and tossed it to Patrick. “Look, I’m doing you a favor. Trying to save your eyesight. You’re going to get all squinty if you keep reading.” He scrunched up his eyes and put his hands in front of him like he was trying to feel his way in the dark.
    “Very funny.” I grabbed my book, moved farther from the court, and sat where I could keep an eye on him while I read.
    Later, when they took a break, Patrick actually asked to see the book. He looked at it for a moment, then said, “Doesn’t look bad. Probably better than memorizing prepositions.”
    I nodded. “There’s hope for you, after all. Want to read it when I’m done?”
    “Nah. I’d rather waste my time on movies and video games.”
    When Kyle and Patrick knocked off, I headed home. The sweet aroma of warm cake and fresh icing greeted me as I walked past the kitchen.
    “What’s up?” I asked Mom.
    “Bobby got a job,” she said.
    “Great. Where?”
    “The diner on Market Street. It’s close enough for him to walk. He starts on Friday.”
    I guess she’d made the cake to celebrate Bobby’s job. Maybe he’d keep this one for a while. “My first article comes out in the school paper on Tuesday,” I said.
    “That’s wonderful.”
    “I’ll show it to you after school.”
    “That would be nice.”
    As I pictured her reading the paper, I started to get nervous about my article. Then, as I pictured the whole school reading it, I moved from nervous to terrified. I went upstairs and read it again. Suddenly it didn’t seem as hilarious as before. What if people didn’t get it? What if it was a truly stupid idea?
    I thought about last year’s middle school talent show. This seventh grader played the trumpet. He was so bad, the notes could turn your guts to water. But he seemed to think he was great. He didn’t have a clue that he was beyond awful. What if that’s how it was with my article? Maybe it actually stunk.
    I wondered whether I should chuck the whole thing and just write about the game. Something short and simple.
Wesucked. We lost
. But I’d already tried, and I hadn’t been able to come up with anything else. And it was sort of cool. At least, I hoped it was.
    Monday, before homeroom, when I handed in the article, I told Mandy, “It’s a little different.”
    “Excellent.” She slipped it into her folder. “No point boring the readers with the same old stuff.” She was wearing a long skirt again. With a tight blue top.
    “You want to check it to make sure it’s okay?”
    “I’m sure it will be fine. Good job.” She tapped me on the shoulder with the folder, like she was granting me knighthood, then headed down the hall.
    Good or bad, it was out of my hands. Nothing much happened in the morning. But then I learned something in the last place I expected. History class. Mr. Ferragamo was telling us about France. We were supposed to be studying ancient Rome, but Mr. Ferragamo tended to get distracted. The Romans had fought the Gauls. And the Gauls later became the French. Once Mr. Ferragamo started explaining this, we ended up smack in the middle of the 1900s. Which was fine, since I could doze as easily there as I could in ancient times. I wasn’t alone. Since history was right after lunch, pretty much everyone around me was nodding off, too. As heavy carbs invaded our bloodstreams, heads dropped down and snapped up like we were at some kind of weird prayer meeting. I was napping just fine until he said, “Their leader,