🤜 Read the story.

Anchor-Out

Bernie opened the hatch and looked across the sparkling San Francisco Bay. A harbor seal swam by, its sleek head making a V in the water. Those guys always made him smile. He pulled on his hoodie and slung his backpack into the rowing boat. ‘Bye, Ma!’ he yelled, although his mother wasn’t up. She’d worked the night shift again. 

The old rowing boat lurched as he stepped in and set his oars. He pulled away from Lunacy, the once-seaworthy sailing boat he and his mother called home. Rowing past the elaborate floating homes along the dock, Bernie savored the fresh, salty air. He landed on a muddy patch of shoreline, tied up, and waited for the school bus. His hair felt grimy, but that was okay. Today was a PE day, so he’d get a hot shower.

Hopping onto the bus, Bernie passed rows of his schoolmates, dressed in designer clothes. Their hillside homes boasted swimming pools and million-dollar views. But nobody’s view equals mine, he assured himself.

He settled in with the backseat crew. Looking forward, he noticed the sunlight streaming through Amanda’s window, making her hair shine like gold. Amanda. He sighed. If only he could talk to her—he imagined sitting next to her. Her eyes would sparkle as she listened to the poetic way he talked about the rhythms of the tides and salty life on the bay. Who else but Bernie could tell her stories about the cast of characters that he called his neighbors? There was Bruce, the violinist; Sheila, the comic artist; Michel, the French sailor. And then she’d ask to visit him, and the rest would be history.

Bernie had never actually spoken to Amanda. But that day after school he took the late bus home, and as he neared his rowing boat, he once again saw her golden hair. She was standing near the water’s edge along with a young boy. Her brother? Bernie approached, straining to hear their conversation.

‘What are those boats doing there?’ he heard the boy ask. Amanda shrugged.

Bernie saw his moment. ‘They’re anchored out there. People live on them,’ he explained. Amanda gasped and grabbed hold of the boy’s hand. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,’ Bernie said. ‘I’m just on my way home.’ He pointed. ‘That one’s mine—she’s Lunacy.‘

‘Seriously? That’s awesome!’ the boy cried, hopping up and down. ‘Can I see it?’

Bernie gazed at Amanda. It wasn’t the scenario he imagined, but now he was picturing rowing all three of them out to Lunacy. The boy would say that Bernie was awesome, and Amanda would fall for him instantly.

‘Ew,’ Amanda said, shattering his fantasy like a hammer on glass. ‘Anchor-outs are unsanitary, Jeremy.’ The look of genuine disgust on Amanda’s face was one Bernie wouldn’t soon forget. She continued, ‘Besides, Mom’s meeting us for dinner soon.’

Bernie recoiled as if Amanda had slapped him. Was he unsanitary, too? He turned and walked away from Amanda, away from his rowing boat, away from more potential humiliation.

He was still fuming when he heard a distant shriek: ‘Hey!’ It was Amanda’s voice. He ran back.

Amanda was ankle-deep in the water when she spotted Bernie. She screeched, ‘You! You’ve done enough! Why did you put that stupid idea in his head? Look what you’ve done!’

Bernie looked. His rowing boat was several meters offshore, and Jeremy was in it. Apparently, Amanda wasn’t much of a babysitter—or a swimmer, since she wasn’t venturing any further. And Jeremy wasn’t much of a boatman—he’d lost an oar and couldn’t steer.

Time to be a hero, Bernie thought. He waded past Amanda. ‘Don’t worry, I got you,’ he told the boy. He grabbed the boat’s line, then scooped up the wayward oar. ‘Right-o, young sir,’ he said in his best mock English accent, towing Jeremy towards the shore.

‘Jeremy!’ cried a woman standing by the water.

The boy waved from the boat. ‘Hi, Mom!’ Jeremy said. ‘Mom, he lives out there! Can we see his sailing boat? Can we, Mom?’

Bernie moved to help Jeremy out of the boat, but the kid scrambled out on his own. Bernie stood in his soggy trousers and muddy shoes, feeling foolish. Amanda started to shrink back, a guilty expression on her face. Guilty and gorgeous. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am,’ Bernie told Jeremy’s mother, eyeing Amanda. ‘It was my fault.’

The woman shook her head. ‘I know my son,’ she said, ‘and my daughter.’ She raised an eyebrow at Amanda. ‘I’m sure he got into trouble without your help.’ She wore a long, silky skirt and sandals, and her hair was curly and loose. She was smiling.

The woman looked at Jeremy and said, ‘A visit out there sounds exciting.’ Then, turning to Bernie, she said, ‘Thank you for helping my son. We’d love to visit you some time if you’ll have us. All of us.’ Bernie saw Amanda roll her eyes.

Bernie nodded at Jeremy’s mother. ‘Sure! You know where I live.’ He winked. And then he pictured it: Jeremy and his mother laughing at Bernie’s jokes on the boat, and Amanda sulking in the background.

Bernie looked at Amanda again. The world shifted and righted itself. Her hair was just yellow.

Based on the first, second, and third paragraphs, how does Bernie feel about living on a boat?

• He likes living on a boat but hates rowing to the bus stop every day.
• He dislikes living on a boat but tolerates it because he has no choice.
• He loves living on a boat but feels a little self-conscious about it.

🤜 Read the story.

Luisa’s Letter

Luisa unlocked the gate, hurried into her building, and checked the postbox. The post was still there, thank goodness. An eggshell-white envelope lay atop the pile. She seized it and slipped it into her bag.

Upstairs, she handed the remaining post to her mother. ‘How was school, Maria Luisa?’ Mamá asked. ‘Something to eat?’ Luisa’s mother had prepared her a board of cheeses, meats, and bread.

‘It was fine,’ said Luisa, giving her mother a quick hug. ‘I’ll just take an apple and do some homework.’

In her room, Luisa changed out of her school uniform. She tried to focus on her English homework, but the letter called to her. She pulled out the shiny envelope. It had traveled more places than she had. All her life, Luisa had lived in Seville. She’d hardly gone anywhere else, even within Spain. Luisa loved her home and loved being a Sevillana, but she wanted to see the world. But her parents just wanted her to stay in Seville, get married, and give them grandchildren.

She recalled the day she first saw Elise Littleton. There was something so exotic about her. Elise carried herself differently. And the way she spoke Spanish, with that elegant English accent! Luisa was drawn to the stranger immediately. She showed Elise around school, helped her with her Spanish, and introduced her to friends. Elise told Luisa all about England, her family there, the food they ate, and the weather. Whenever Elise shared something about Seville that struck her as funny or unusual, it surprised Luisa and made her see her home from a new perspective. Elise was also the one who told Luisa about the foreign exchange program that had sponsored her.

A year abroad! What an enticing possibility. But Luisa couldn’t bring herself to raise the subject with her parents. So, last spring, on her own, she applied for a year of secondary school in England. The form required parental permission, but she’d just checked the boxes and signed their names. Why tell them about it if the program might reject her anyway?

And now, this envelope held her answer. Luisa cradled it in her hands like an unhatched egg. She put it in her desk drawer, tried to start her homework, pulled out the envelope again, put it back and finally opened her English book. 

She returned to the kitchen to help her mother with dinner. As they worked side by side, Mamá chatted merrily about the wedding plans and babies of her assorted cousins. Luisa listened and wished she weren’t an only child. ‘Mamá, do you ever think about traveling? I mean, I want to. And maybe someday . . . live somewhere else.’ 

Luisa’s heart beat harder as she anticipated her mother’s reaction. But Mamá nodded. ‘Luisa, of course, you’d like to travel. And I want that for you. I didn’t have so many opportunities when I was your age. But things have changed, and—’

Just then Papá arrived, and after a flurry of activity—place setting, bottle opening, joke telling—they sat down at the table to eat. ‘Seville is the best, yes, my Maria Luisa?’ Luisa’s heart sank. Papá shook his head, lost in thought. ‘Why would Álvaro want to leave Seville? There are as many opportunities here as in the whole of France!’ He raised his fork towards Mamá as if he were toasting her. ‘And no croissant could top your food, mi amor.’

Mamá smiled. ‘Now, now, mi vida,’ she said, patting Papá’s hand. ‘When Luisa is old enough, we can discuss with her what’s best for her future.’ Papá raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue.

Luisa couldn’t wait any longer. She had to open the letter. But then the conversation moved on to the day’s news and weekend plans. Her parents’ easy chatter and joking was the sound of her childhood, her home. She sank deeper into her chair and listened. Home will always be here. But when the time was right, she’d leave. Maybe not forever, but she’d go. And when she did, she wanted it to be with her parents’ support. 

‘Something came in the post,’ she said at last. ‘I want you to see.’ She retrieved the letter and laid it softly on the table. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,’ she said, her voice wobbling. ‘I wanted this more than anything.’ Luisa waved at the unopened envelope. ‘But only if you say it’s okay.’

Based on the first and second paragraphs, why is Luisa relieved when she sees the post is in the box?

• She has been waiting for some posts that she doesn’t want her parents to see.
• She is worried that someone might steal her family’s post.
• She likes getting the post so her mother doesn’t have to walk downstairs.

🔥Read the story.

Superpower

1)The stub of my shirt’s tag is digging into my neck. Last night I cut off the tag, but now the stub is sharp. I pull the back of my shirt around and yank the piece off. It makes a small hole, but it feels better.

2)That’s what I get for wearing a new shirt on the first day of school. I usually wear the same outfit every day. I guess I thought this new shirt would be okay because it’s soft and blue (of course). ‘Ask Me My Superpower’ is on the front in bold red letters; I was told that would be a ‘conversation starter’.

3)Maybe I’ll change it at PE. But right now the hall lights are really buzzing. Lockers slamming too loud. Lights are too bright. Too many people. Need to get to class . . .

Room 214—easy to remember. See, seven is my favorite number, and two times seven is fourteen. I triple-check my timetable and the placard on the door before I go in. I sit and let the quiet soak in.

‘Hey, I’m Kyle,’ comes an unfamiliar voice on my left. I jump. ‘What’s your superpower?’ Kyle asks, nodding at my shirt.

I don’t know how to respond because technically speaking, I don’t really have a superpower. It’s like Dr. Lem—that’s my favorite character, by the way—it’s like what Dr Lem always says about being precise . . . Suddenly, someone snorts from behind Kyle and me. ‘Hey, weirdo!’ It’s Boris. ‘Your superpower? What, you’re the world’s biggest expert on that boring TV show you’re always talking about?’

I am an expert on Miracle Man, but it’s definitely not boring and I’m definitely not the biggest expert in the world, although I did acquire expertise on seventy-seven medical conditions covered in the show. Still, these aren’t actually superpowers; maybe Boris doesn’t understand. To clarify, I define ‘superpower’ for Boris, and I manage to tell Kyle about my favorite episode before Mrs. Maxwell enters the room.

Mrs Maxwell is calm and even, like Dr Lem on Miracle Man. ‘Let’s introduce ourselves, shall we?’ Mrs Maxwell says. ‘Tell us your name and something interesting about you.’

She starts with the front row; I’m in the second row, at the end, so there are five people ahead of me unless Mrs Maxwell starts my row from the other end; then there are nine. I try to pay attention, but in my head, I’m rehearsing the answers I memorized in Class II. The first person finishes. Four people ahead of me.

Next to me, Kyle puts his head down on his desk. The second person finishes. Three people ahead of me. After a moment, Kyle sits up and shakes his head. That’s odd, I think. He starts blinking his eyes, again and again.

Suddenly, Kyle’s leg starts to jerk, and he slides down in his chair. I’m up before he hits the ground, and I grab hold of his shirt to stop him from hitting his head.

Boris panics. ‘What’s wrong? What’s he doing?’ I can hear the commotion in the room. Skidding chairs. Thudding footsteps. People clamoring. Mrs. Maxwell shouted instructions. Orders to find the nurse . . . But I’m thinking about Miracle Man episode 149 and focusing on Kyle’s symptoms.

I look up at the clock. It’s 11:07—easy to remember. Kyle’s eyes are blank, but he’s still conscious. Then, he convulses. I wad up a sweatshirt and use it to cushion his head.

‘Hold him down!’ Boris shouts. I shake my head and check Kyle’s wrist for a medical ID—bingo. It confirms my hypothesis: epilepsy. I look at the clock again. It’s 11:09. He’ll be fine if the seizure doesn’t last long.

It’s noisy, but Boris’s voice always seems to come through the loudest: ‘Make him stop moving!’ Does he know how loud he is?

I respond as Dr Lem would. ‘That’s unnecessary. Kyle’s okay. He’s coming out of it.’ It’s 11:10.

Mrs Maxwell finally makes it over to us; she’s breathing hard. I point out Kyle’s bracelet and explain everything I know about epilepsy. Together, we help Kyle roll onto his side.

The nurse arrives, and Mrs Maxwell describes what happened. I’m a little proud because they both agree that I administered proper first aid. Kyle’s going to rest in the nurse’s office, so I guess that means there are two or six people presenting ahead of me now.

Boris looks at me funny, funnier than usual. ‘Why weren’t you freaking out like everyone else?’

Mrs Maxwell interjects, pointing at my shirt. ‘Looks like we know what his superpower is now, huh?’

I shake my head, but I decide not to clarify the definition of ‘superpower’ for Mrs Maxwell. She’s the teacher, after all. But maybe it is cool that I was able to recreate episode 149 of Miracle Man. Luckily, I’ve got a few more turns to revise the introduction I’ll be sharing with the class.

 Based on the third and fourth paragraphs, which word best describes the narrator before class?

• bored
• overwhelmed
• confident