McKenna Read online

  Something nudged me between my shoulder blades. I turned around in my chair and saw Elizabeth Onishi, her pale face framed by black bangs, holding up the eraser end of her pencil. Elizabeth and I aren’t close friends, but we get along pretty well, and she lives just down the street from me. “You’ll do fine,” she whispered.

  “Thanks,” I said, mustering a smile.

  Blue sky in…gray sky out.

  As the clock ticked toward the end of the school day, however, everyone had finished the test—except me. My face burned hotter and hotter, like red coals.

  Mr. Wu must have noticed. He knelt beside me and said, “Just take it home to finish it.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Wu,” I whispered.

  He was being really nice, but somehow that just made me feel worse. Was I the only student in the class who needed special treatment?

  That night at the gym, I worked extra hard on my floor routine, getting lost in the music. Moving on to the bar, I felt like a bird—soaring, stretching, and flying.

  When it was time for the vault, I pictured myself doing a perfect handstand flat-back skill. Then I set off down the runway, jumped onto the springboard, and rose up into a handstand on the vault. I held the position tight and then pushed over and landed with a flat back on the stack of thick mats. Did it!

  I ended practice on the beam, sticking my landing. Yes!

  It was a perfect night at the gym—a reminder of why I love gymnastics. Grandma clapped silently from the viewing area. Sierra complimented me, too. “Nice landing,” she said. “And great form.”

  “Thanks!” I said, smiling broadly.

  “Landings are something my other coach drilled us on,” said Sierra. She stood up straight and pursed her lips. “You must work on lengthening your neck, like a dancer. Like a swan!” With great exaggeration, Sierra threw her arms out to her sides and flung her head back.

  I imitated her. “Like a swan!” I said, assuming the same position. Then we cracked up and couldn’t stop laughing.

  Toulane was on beam now, toes pointed. She shot us a jealous glance. “Hey, McKenna, I’m not done yet,” she said. “Will you watch me?”

  “Sure,” I said. As I stepped toward the beam, I turned and waved good-bye to Sierra.

  Later that night, after I finished doing dinner dishes, Maisey and Mara tugged the legs of my jeans. “Watch us do cartwheels!” Maisey insisted.

  “Please?” added Mara.

  “I have homework,” I said, glancing at the kitchen clock. It was already 6:45. But I knew my sisters wouldn’t stop begging until I watched them do cartwheels, so I took a few minutes with them in their jungle-decorated bedroom.

  Maisey announced, “I’m faster. Watch!” Beaming, she flipped end over end.

  “No, I’m faster,” Mara said. She pushed her shoulders back, breathed deeply, and then cartwheeled in slow motion. When she finished, she stretched out her arms and arched her head back, her expression proud.

  “Great! Nice job, you two!” I said, applauding. When they started arguing about who had done the better cartwheel, I slipped away to my bedroom and sat down at my desk.

  Polka Dot stopped running on her wheel for a second and looked at me, her pink nose twitching. Then she took off again at full speed. “Can’t you give it a rest, Polka Dot, just for a few minutes?” I asked, exasperated. But she couldn’t. Polka Dot loves her wheel as much as I love gymnastics.

  I turned to my homework and pulled out the science test. My stomach tightened, just as it had in class, and a wave of anxiety swept over me. What was wrong with me?

  I stared at the test questions. I still had nine to answer! I took a deep breath and told myself that if I just worked hard, I could get this done. And I could get a grip on my other homework, too. It was early in the year, right? I’d never love homework, but if I wanted to stay in gymnastics, I had better try harder.

  I tried—really tried—to find the answers in the textbook. But I kept thinking of laughing with Sierra at the gym, and my eyes danced over the words. After a half hour of trying, I’d answered only two more questions. I felt like Polka Dot on her wheel—running in circles and not getting anywhere!

  I couldn’t go to school tomorrow with the take-home test half done—or, worse yet, with a bunch of wrong answers. I twirled my pencil and thought of Elizabeth Onishi. Elizabeth lived only six houses down from ours, and she was a good student. She might be willing to help me. I wouldn’t ask for answers outright—just a few hints.

  I carefully folded the test into quarters and then folded it again and tucked it into my back pocket.

  “Mom, Dad—” I said, stepping into the hallway, “I’m taking Cooper for a walk!”

  At the word walk, Cooper bounded to me, tail wagging.

  Dad glanced up from the couch. “He’ll like that,” he said. “Thank you. But keep it short, okay? It’ll be dark soon.”

  Mom was napping, her feet on Dad’s lap and her head on the other end of the couch. She often falls asleep early after getting up at the crack of dawn to open the coffee shop.

  With Cooper on a leash, I headed out the front door and down the porch steps. I walked the long way around the block before stopping at Elizabeth’s brick two-story house. Cooper sniffed the tidy shrubs along the sidewalk, and I had to pull him with me up to Elizabeth’s front door. Before I lost my nerve, I pressed the doorbell.

  Elizabeth answered the door, her hair pulled back into a messy bun. “Hey, McKenna,” she said. “What’s up?”

  “Um, well, I didn’t exactly finish the science test today,” I stammered, “and Mr. Wu said I could take it home to finish it. But I’m stuck, and I thought maybe…you could give me…a little help.”

  “Sure!” said Elizabeth, stepping outside to join me and Cooper. “I can just give you the answers, if you’d like. Which ones don’t you know?”

  “Um,” I hesitated. I didn’t want to cheat, but I was running out of time. If Elizabeth was willing to give me the answers, well…I pulled my test out of my pocket.

  Just then Mrs. Onishi appeared in the doorway. She glanced at my test and raised one eyebrow. That’s when I knew we were in trouble.

  “Girls!” she scolded. “A test means you need to do your own work, right?”

  “But, Mom,” piped up Elizabeth, “it’s more like a quiz. It isn’t a big deal.”

  My tongue was glued to the roof of my dry mouth. My cheeks burned hotter than jalapeños! I couldn’t move a single muscle.

  “Well, getting answers for a quiz isn’t okay either,” said Mrs. Onishi. “It’s cheating. Elizabeth, you and I are going to talk about this further. McKenna, should I tell your parents about this—or will you?”

  I wanted to say I’m really not a cheater, but I got stuck and couldn’t do the work, and there’s gymnastics, and…But I knew those would all sound like flimsy excuses. The fact was, I had been willing to get the answers from Elizabeth—to cheat. My eyes filled with tears. I dreaded the idea of telling my parents.

  From the oak tree in the front lawn, a gray squirrel began scolding in a high-pitched chatter. Cooper yanked hard on his leash toward the tree, jolting me off center.

  “Um,” I said, my tongue finally loosening, “I‘ll tell them.”

  Cooper and I shuffled around the block, taking the long way home. I couldn’t have walked any slower. I had to tell my parents, but how could I? By the time I reached our front porch, my feet felt as heavy as ship anchors. Somehow, I climbed the steps and pushed through the front door.

  “How was your walk?” Dad asked brightly.

  I took a deep breath. I figured I had better tell my parents the truth right away, before I lost my nerve—or before Mara and Maisey came bounding into the room.

  “Mom, Dad, I have to tell you something,” I said quickly. I flopped cross-legged on the floor beside the couch and told them everything as fast as I could get it out. When I finished, my eyes were red and my nose was running.

  “Here,” Mom said gently, handing me a tissue from the coffee table.

  “McKenna,” Dad said, “you know cheating is wrong. There are no shortcuts to learning. For punishment, perhaps you need to take a week off from gymnastics.”

  “A whole week?” I groaned. “I’ll fall way behind!”

  “But, McKenna,” said Dad, “that’s what’s happening at school.”

  “Yes, but…” I began. My chin trembled and I tried to keep from crying again. “I’m trying really hard! I am, but I just…can’t…get it.”

  Mom leaned over to put her arm around my shoulder. “Sweetheart,” she said, “if you’re really trying but you’re still struggling, it’s definitely time to get some help.” She glanced up at Dad, and something passed between them. Sometimes it’s as if they have their own language.

  Dad nodded at Mom and then turned back to me. “McKenna,” he began again, more softly this time, “we have a meeting set up with Mr. Wu after school tomorrow. If you’re willing to work with your mom, me, and your new teacher to get some help with your schoolwork, we’ll allow you to stick with practice—at least for now. Fair enough?”

  I couldn’t speak over the lump in my throat. All I could do was nod my head.

  My parents stayed up late with me and had me read the whole science chapter out loud to them. I had to read some paragraphs more than once, but I finally answered all of the test questions.

  As I crawled into bed, I thought about meeting with my parents and Mr. Wu tomorrow. I wasn’t crazy about the idea, but I wasn’t going to put up a fuss. If this was the only way to stay in gymnastics, I’d do it.

  Friday morning at school, a dark, gloomy cloud hovered over our classroom. Right away, Mr. Wu told us to take out our library books. “You can read silently while I work with each of you, one at a time, in the hallway,” he explained.

  Mr. Wu pulled a couple of chairs into the hallway. When it was my turn to join him, I read a few paragraphs aloud, the words tumbling off my tongue, while he listened and timed me with a stopwatch.

  “Nice, McKenna. You read aloud beautifully,” he said.

  I smiled with relief. “Thanks,” I said.

  “Now tell me what you just read,” said Mr. Wu.

  Uh-oh. I hadn’t really been paying attention. “Um, something about pelicans,” I said hesitantly.

  “And?” he pressed.

  I panicked. I honestly didn’t know. “Oil slicks?” I asked.

  “Oil slicks can be a real problem for wildlife, but that wasn’t part of this text,” said Mr. Wu. “Do you remember reading anything about wingspan? Or what pelicans eat?”

  I tried to pretend that the answers were right there on the tip of my tongue. Mr. Wu waited. Finally, I just shrugged. “If I read it again…” I suggested.

  Mr. Wu smiled gently and shook his head. “That’s okay,” he said. “I think I know why you’ve been struggling with your schoolwork, McKenna.”

  “Why?” I asked, partly curious and partly dreading his response.

  “You have trouble with reading comprehension, or understanding what you’re reading,” said Mr. Wu.

  Reading? I was shocked. Reading had always seemed easy. Why would it be hard for me now?

  “Lots of fourth-graders struggle with the same thing,” Mr. Wu continued, as if reading my mind. “And now that we know, I’ll be better able to help you.”

  When I returned to my desk, I looked around, wondering who else was struggling with reading comprehension. Elizabeth always had her nose in a book, so I figured reading was easy for her. Plus, she wasn’t in a sport, so she had more time for homework.

  I glanced at Toulane across the aisle from me. Maybe she was struggling, too, because of gymnastics practices.

  “Toulane,” I whispered, leaning across the aisle. “Tough science test yesterday, huh?”

  Toulane looked at me as if I’d asked the silliest question in the world. “No, it wasn’t bad,” she said.

  I flushed and sat back in my chair. “Yeah,” I mumbled. “Just kidding.”

  Clearly, not everyone in my class was having as much trouble as I was.

  At the end of the school day, Dad and Mom showed up to meet Mr. Wu. We sat in the reading area on an overstuffed purple couch.

  “McKenna and I talked a little bit today about the difficulties she’s been having with homework,” Mr. Wu explained. “I think she’s struggling with reading comprehension.”

  Mom’s brow furrowed. “I’m surprised,” she said. “McKenna has always sailed through school.”

  Mr. Wu nodded. “We call this the ‘fourth-grade slump,’” he said. “Through third grade, students focus on learning to read. But fourth grade places more emphasis on ‘reading to learn.’ It’s a time when reading difficulties often arise.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Dad said in agreement. Then he added, “As principal of the high school, I’m familiar with a few tutoring options. In fact, the middle school has a peer tutoring program where older students work with younger students. Is that something that might help McKenna?”

  Mr. Wu lit up. “I’m sure we could find an excellent student to work with McKenna,” he agreed.

  None of this made any sense to me. It felt worse than messing up a routine at the gym! “A reading tutor?” I said out loud, staring at my shoes.

  “Exactly,” said Mr. Wu. “Let’s see what we can arrange.” He stepped out of the classroom to walk down to the office. When he returned, he was all smiles. “All set, McKenna. You’ll have a sixth-grade tutor on Mondays and Wednesdays at the school library. Her name’s Josie Myers.”

  “Really?” said Mom. “Her mother owns a drapery business downtown, near my coffee shop.”

  Mr. Wu nodded at Mom and then turned back to me. “So, McKenna, all you need to do is leave class thirty minutes early on those days,” he explained. “What do you think?”

  I was mortified. “But what if other kids find out?” I asked softly, more to myself than to anyone else. “They’ll think—they’ll think I have problems.”

  “If you want to tell others, that’s up to you,” said Mr. Wu. “I won’t say anything. But remember, McKenna, there’s nothing wrong with trying new things and getting a little help.”

  Mom pointed out to Mr. Wu that I was always learning new skills at Shooting Star Gymnastics.

  “Is that so?” Mr. Wu said. “Who’s your coach?”

  “Isabelle Manning,” I answered, my voice stronger now that I was talking about gymnastics.

  “Think you’d make progress without her help?” asked Mr. Wu.

  I thought about that and shook my head. “No,” I admitted. “Not much.”

  “You’re lucky,” said Mr. Wu. “Isabelle is an excellent athlete—and coach. She knows her stuff.”

  “Wait, you know her?” I asked, leaning forward.

  “I was a gymnast,” said Mr. Wu, with what I thought was a hint of pride. “Great sport, McKenna. Try to think of your tutor as kind of like a gymnastics coach. Instead of getting help learning gymnastics, you’re getting coaching in reading.”

  A reading tutor like a gymnastics coach? Uh, I don’t think so.

  Saturday morning, I rolled out of bed early for gymnastics. As I arrived at the gym, just behind Sierra, Isabelle handed us each a sheet of paper. “Take this with you and memorize it,” she said.

  I pulled off my sweats and then paused by my locker to study the sheet, which read:

  For me, reading anything about gymnastics was as easy as reading the ABCs. I could picture each and every move—not only picture it but also feel it. Then I flashed on that awful take-home test. Why was that so tough?

  “The last gym I was at,” Sierra said, “was just for fun. But moving here and up to Level 4—it’s intense, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it is,” I agreed. That’s why I love it, I wanted to add. I was always scared facing a new move, but then when I tried—and eventually succeeded—it was exciting to discover what I could do.

  As I stood side by side with Sierra, the difference in our height was suddenly more noticeable. As if reading my thoughts, Sierra blurted, “Y’know, I’m big for fourth grade. But it’s because of my dad.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Well, I’m tall like him,” Sierra explained. “He’s six and a half feet tall!” Sierra didn’t sound very happy about that. “My parents got divorced, and I had to move here with my mom,” she added, but then quickly looked down at the floor. “I don’t know why I told you that. You seem nice, I guess.”

  Sierra’s words made me feel pretty good—as if we were already friends. “Thanks for telling me,” I said. “And there’s nothing wrong with being tall.”

  Sierra shrugged. “I guess I just feel like a giant compared to the rest of you,” she said sadly.

  “Hey, you fit right in,” I said quickly, trying to reassure her. “We’re teammates!”

  “But you guys are way ahead of me when it comes to all this stuff,” said Sierra, holding up the orange list of gymnastics moves. “How am I going to remember all this?”

  “I’ll help you,” I said—and I meant it. “You’ll catch up in no time.” Then I tapped the side of my head. “As Coach always says, ‘Girls, it all starts here!’”

  Sierra laughed, so maybe I had already helped her—at least a little bit.

  While we stretched on the mats, I waited for Toulane to show up, but she never did. It wasn’t like her to miss gymnastics. I wondered if she was sick.

  As we moved from the mats to the trampoline, though, I forgot about Toulane, take-home tests, and tutors. I loved jumping high, feeling my body fly into the air and leaving everything else behind.

  That afternoon, I brought my homework with me into the backyard and spread it all out on a blanket in the grass. Horns sounded from the distant harbor. A breeze ruffled the mums, a garden of rusty reds and golds. The afternoon stretched out long before me, with plenty of time for studying. I was determined to get my work done—period.

  I opened my social studies book to the chapter about the Oregon Trail and started reading about early pioneers making the impossible journey from the East Coast to the West. I read the first few paragraphs, but as I turned the page, I couldn’t remember what I’d read. I started over. The third time through, my little sisters’ singing shattered my concentration.