Free Finders Keepers by Andrea Spalding Page B

thoughtfully.
    Ms. Wakefield smiled wickedly. “There’s several. You’d probably miss class for the rest of today.”
    Danny’s brain worked overtime. Reprieve. If he spent the day doing these dumb tests, then Mr. Berg couldn’t expect him to hand in his project outline. Then he’d get the weekend to work on it in peace and his mom could help him with the spelling.
    â€œI’ll do them,” he said, and he and Ms. Wakefield grinned conspiratorially at each other.
    His mother sighed with relief. “Good for you Danny,” she whispered.
    Mr. Hubner stood up. “The sick room is empty. If we moved a table and a couple of chairs in there could you use that?”
    â€œPerfect,” said Ms. Wakefield with a smile. “Let’s go, Danny. It’s time to prove to yourself how smart you really are.”

Chapter Eleven
    The sick room was bare, cold looking, and smelled of disinfectant. A small camp bed with a worn looking blanket folded across the bottom of a lumpy mattress was the only furniture.
    Ms. Wakefield wrinkled her nose. “Bet no one wants to be ill in your school,” she commented quietly to Danny as they waited for the janitor to finish dragging a table and two chairs in from the corridor.
    Danny grinned. “We call this the jail,” he confided.
    â€œI’m not surprised.” Thanking the curious janitor, Ms. Wakefield firmly closed the door, set the chairs on opposite sides of the table, organized her briefcase beside her, and motioned Danny to sit down. “First of all, I’m not your teacher and this room is not the classroom. I’m your Mom’s friend, I’d like to be yours, and my name’s Carol. OK?”
    Danny nodded and sat down, nervously twisting and untwisting his legs around the chair legs.
    Carol grinned encouragingly at him. “So, Danny why don’t you tell me about school.”
    Danny shrugged uncomfortably. “Not much to tell. I just hate it.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Danny shrugged again. “I guess… because I don’t do things right… I don’t try hard enough, so everyone gets mad at me.”
    Carol looked thoughtfully at him. “You don’t try hard enough. Is that what you say or what your teacher says?”
    Danny’s eyes flew up to her face. She smiled encouragingly.
    â€œThat’s what everyone says,” Danny muttered, dropping his eyes to the table and twisting his legs uncomfortably the other way.
    â€œEveryone?”
    Danny nodded. “Even the kids. They think I’m stupid.” Carol’s voice was very gentle. “And what about you Danny? Is that what you think?”
    There was a long pause.
    A roller coaster of thoughts rushed around Danny’s head. What did he think? He thought something in his head was wrong because he couldn’t write or do math. He thought about the dictionary and Mr. Berg. All the hockey pucks and baseballs he missed catching flashed through his mind. His ears rang with customer’s annoyed complaints because he’d given wrong change in the store, and he saw his father’s angry face when he read all the ’must try harder’ remarks on Danny’s report card. All his failures crashed and rolled around his head and almost overwhelmed him.
    â€œWell Danny, what do you think?” Carol’s voice was quietly insistent.
    â€œI think I’ve got a brain tumor or something,” Danny said very quietly. “I think my brain is sick.”
    The words hung heavy in the air.
    Danny didn’t dare look at Carol. That was the dumbest thing he’d ever said. She’d laugh.
    Two small hands reached out across the table and grabbed his hands tightly. “Look at me, Danny Budzynski.” Carol’s voice was urgently compelling.
    Danny looked up with haunted eyes.
    She squeezed his hands tighter. “That’s your nightmare, isn’t it Danny? That you’ve got a brain