Free Operation Yes by Sara Lewis Holmes Page B

one from Young Oaks. Anywhere you like.”
    After Dillon had signed, and his mom had picked him up, Miss Loupe once again entered the Taped Space and addressed the class. “Before we get back to our science lesson, I have an announcement.” She flushed pink to her ears. “I … well, I’m a finalist for an arts grant to teach improvisational theater! I just found out yesterday!”
    She looked so pleased that half the class broke into applause, even though they weren’t quite sure what this meant for Room 208.
    â€œWhat’s improvisational theater?” asked Melissa.
    â€œIt’s what we’ve been doing every afternoon,” said Miss Loupe. She grinned. “You know, when I put my weird slippers on. Some people call it ‘improv’ for short. You could say it was just games, scenes, and making up things as you go along. That would be true.”
    Miss Loupe stepped closer to her class. “But you could also say that it’s about counting on one another. Counting on one another to say ‘Yes, and …’ Counting on one another to see cracks as doors. Counting on one another to turn battles into stories.”
    â€œI don’t get it,” said Allison.
    â€œThat’s okay,” said Miss Loupe. “I don’t know everything yet either.” She turned and wrote another saying on the chalkboard:
    One does not discover new lands
    without consenting to lose sight of the shore….
    â€” André Gide
    â€œWhat does ‘consent’ mean?” asked Aimee.
    â€œTo say yes,” said Miss Loupe. “Dillon, for example, is definitely consenting to discover new lands.” She spread out her arms as wide as on the first day of class. “When we do improv, so can we.”
    Her voice and energy flooded the room. Bo wondered how he had ever thought she was tiny.
    Miss Loupe’s words tumbled out faster. “In order to receive the money, I have to prove that the project I’m proposing will be …” She grabbed a piece of paper off her desk and read from it. “‘… an innovative approach to youth arts education, specific to the needs of an underserved environment, and a significant contribution to the community as a whole.’” She put the paper down and took a deep breath. “What that means is: I want to start a youth improv troupe at Young Oaks and run a free theater camp here in Reform. And I need your help.”
    Bo’s stomach flipped in a loop the loop. Cool. Theater camp. He had a flash of himself getting a starring role. Something good that people would remember.
    â€œI’ll tell you a secret,” Miss Loupe continued. “When I was here in Reform in the sixth grade, I hated being here. I thoughtthere was nothing to do. I didn’t know I would find theater. I didn’t know I would become a teacher. I was miserable.” She looked around her class. “I want those of you who will love theater all your life to find out sooner than I did. And I want this school to succeed.
    â€œSo I’ll be leading theater activities here in Room 208. I want all of you to be involved. And if that goes well, and the grant money is approved, I hope you all will discover new lands with me at theater camp next summer.”
    She patted the couch. “I’d like to call our improv troupe the Ugly Couch Players. If you consent, of course.” She smiled and looked invitingly at the class.
    But Bo had stopped listening.
    Next summer?
    Next summer?
    His dad was getting an assignment at the end of the school year. Bo was going to be gone next summer.
    He felt himself fall into a steep, engineless dive.
    His name might get written under the couch when he left, like Dillon. But no matter what Miss Loupe said, no matter what he did this year, it would all disappear. He would soon be on the outside, of Reform, of Young Oaks, of everything. He’d always known it; it was all he’d