Free Maybe I Will by Laurie Gray

you tell her first.”

12
    And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With old odd ends stolen out of Holy Writ
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.
    â€”Richard III
, Act I, Scene iii, Lines 336-338
    I TOLD M OM about the Nyquil with Dr. Parks standing right there. Then I told Dad about the Nyquil while Mom listened. And by the time I was finished telling, it was all about the Nyquil and the flu and my just wanting to sign up for this taekwondo class, but thinking my parents wouldn’t let me because I was already busy with the school musical.
    â€œI’ll drive you to school tomorrow and Friday,” Dad said. It wasn’t open for discussion.
    â€œAnd no more Nyquil,” Mom said. “When you think you need medicine, we need to know.”
    â€œNo more Nyquil,” I promised. My parents seemed satisfied. It was an easy promise to keep. Nobody said anything about vodka. That would have been a problem. I tried not to think about that. Spring break would be here soon enough. Maybe taekwondo wouldhelp me feel relaxed and more focused again, too, like it did for Shanika.
    That night I got a text from Troy. “What did Dr. say?”
    â€œJust needed a physical for taekwondo over spring break.”
    â€œTaekwondo?”
    â€œWhy not, right?” I texted back.
    â€œSee you in the morning?”
    â€œDad wants to drive me the rest of this week.”
    â€œK.”
    And that was it. I tried not to think about it.
    Just when I was getting good at not thinking, Mr. Conaway decided that we should study Socrates in our AP World History class. “The Socratic Method is a favorite with teachers, philosophers and lawyers,” he said. Then we spent the whole period discussing a single question: “What is Virtue?”
    There was lots of talk about vice and virtue and right and wrong. I sat quietly in my seat avoiding teacher eye contact. Eventually, though, Mr. Conaway asked me directly, “What do you think about virtue, Sandy?”
    â€œSome rise by sin, and some by virtue fall,” I replied.
    Mr. Conaway laughed. “Shakespeare, I presume?”
    I nodded. “
Measure for Measure
.”
    â€œBut what does it mean?”
    I shrugged. “I guess it means that sometimes people succeed by doing the wrong thing, and some people fail even though they’ve done everything the right way.”
    â€œDo you think that’s true?” Mr. Conaway asked.
    Hands shot up all over the classroom. The whole thing turned into a debate on whether it’s better to do the right thing for thewrong reasons or the wrong thing for the right reasons. I just stayed out of it.
Nothing is right. It’s all wrong. What’s wrong with me?
    Then came our spring break assignment. “Pick one of the questions and really think about it,” Mr. Conaway instructed as he handed out a long list of questions like “What is Justice?” and “What is Truth?”
    â€œJust think about it?” someone asked.
    â€œThink about it, and then write about it in a way that lets me know you’ve given the question serious thought,” Mr. Conaway replied.
    â€œHow long does it have to be?” inquired another student.
    â€œDoesn’t matter,” said Mr. Conaway. “There’s no right answer and no right length.”
    This created quite a stir. “Does that mean you’re not going to grade us?”
    â€œYou’ll definitely be getting a grade on this assignment.”
    Amy Taylor’s hand shot up. Her one and only goal in life was to be class valedictorian. “How can you grade us on something that doesn’t have a right answer and you won’t even tell us how long the answer needs to be?”
    â€œLet me just tell you that the more ‘canned’ your answer sounds, the less inclined I’ll be to give you a good grade.”
    â€œBut that’s not fair!” Amy argued. “You have to tell us what you want us