The Right Answer

Sam was not having it. This woman thought she had him by the short hairs simply by virtue of her position, and he was not having it!

“It was a test, not an antidote! Page 221 of the textbook says it:"

Béla Schick developed the Schick test to detect pre-existing immunity to diphtheria…

The room smelled like urethane, authoritarianism, and paste. Even the spicy smell of chalk was muted by the mildewy odor of old Elmer’s glue.

“Samuel, I will change your grade, if you really want me to.” Sam beamed for a moment, vindicated. “—to an F,” Mrs. Franks finished coldly. “Decide.”

Samuel mumbled that he was sorry, a C was fine.

“Good day, Samuel.” And she dismissed him as thoroughly as if she had thrown him off the roof of the school.

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“Mom, seriously, she was wrong, and she knew it! She’s just being a bi-- er, a bully!”

Sam’s mother raised her eyebrows warningly as her son covered his near-indiscretion.

“So what are you going to do about it, Sammy? Tell the principal? Put a snake in her drawer?”

“Mom, I thought you’d be on my side!” Sam was surprised and a little hurt; some of that hurt crept into his voice.

“I am, sweetheart. But you’re old enough to contemplate a good solution first, then ask for my help. You're smart enough to figure out how to take care of this 'bi-- bully.'” She winked at him as she said this.

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He hardly tasted dinner that night. Mom was right: When he went to bed, he was starting to develop a plan; when he woke, the plan was all there.

He dressed quickly, grinning. On the way to school, Sam needed to stop by the hardware store for a few things…

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299 Words (300 if "near-indiscretion" is counted as 2 words)