Free Sophomores and Other Oxymorons by David Lubar Page A

was going to protest that the book was far more than a vague memory. But I realized the test in my hand was a lethal counterargument to that claim. “I know. I messed up. But I did love the book. Both times. And I love to read. I read a ton of books this summer.”
    â€œThat is irrelevant. You neglected to read the right one,” she said.
    â€œI made a mistake. Is there anything I can do to get a second chance?” I asked.
    She regarded me for a moment, as if trying to see whether I was a hopeless scoundrel attempting to scam her, or a miscreant worth saving. “Write an essay on arrogance,” she said.
    â€œGreat. I love writing. I’m really good at it.”
    â€œPerhaps
irony
would be a better topic for you.”
    I stared at her, not quite realizing at the moment that I’d just been skewered. Though it all became clearer during the dozens of replays my mind forced me to suffer through.
    â€œI see that subtlety is lost on you. We’ll stick with the topic of arrogance. You certainly are filled with love for things,” she said. Her tone hinted she thought I was filled with something less fragrant than love. “Since you love writing, you’ll have no trouble delivering an essay of five hundred words tomorrow.”
    â€œNo problem,” I said. If she’d thought I’d flinch at the word count, she didn’t know me at all. “I could do that with my eyes closed.”
    â€œI’m sure it will read as if it were written that way,” she said.
    I stared at her. Had she just smacked me down with an insult? It definitely felt like a jab. She wasn’t finished.
    â€œSince you are so confident—perhaps even
arrogant
?—about your ability to churn out a large volume of prose in a short span of time, let’s make your assignment an even thousand words. I want there to be
some
problem. Otherwise, there’s no point in this exercise.”
    â€œSure, I can handle that. Piece of cake.” Oops. That slipped out before I had a chance to give it any thought.
    â€œTwo thousand, then,” she said. “Have we transcended slices of cake? Are we in the realm of soufflés, tarts,
croquembouche
, and other more challenging baked goods? Will two thousand words be a sufficiently grueling assignment to require the opening of at least one of your eyes?”
    I clamped my mouth down on my reflexive response. It seemed like a good time to merely echo her words. “Two thousand.”
    When I got outside, Lee said, “So, how much worse did you make things for yourself?”
    â€œI didn’t make things worse. She’s giving me another chance.”
    â€œWhat do you have to do?”
    â€œWrite a two-thousand word essay on arrogance.”
    â€œFor it or against it?”
    â€œShe didn’t say.”
    â€œProbably safe to assume you should be against it.”
    â€œBut she didn’t actually specify a position.” I got excited when I realized I could have fun with the essay. I’d spent all of last year stretching and expanding my writing. I’d found unique ways to report on sports. During the summer, I’d fooled around with poetry a bit, and even started to write some plays, and one marvelously gory short story, “Corpse and Corpuscles,” where a man drowned in his own blood. “Maybe I am in favor of it. This is going to be awesome.”
    Lee made a sound. It wasn’t the sort that accompanies encouragement. When we reached the bus area, I found myself facing a mob of freshmen. “It’s
him
!” one of them shouted. The group vibrated.
    â€œâ€˜Him’? Did you form a band and not tell me?” Lee asked. “Or make a movie?”
    â€œNothing that impressive,” I said.
    Jeremy detached himself from the masses. “They want to buy copies.”
    â€œAll of them?” I asked. It looked like nearly a dozen kids.
    Their heads nodded. Their eyes widened.