Heart and Brain By Peri Gordon, 11

I sat at my plain wooden desk and waited for the lunch bell to ring. I didn’t know how to answer the test question, and unless I cheated, I never would. I stared stubbornly at the white tiled classroom floor. I am not going to cheat, I vowed silently. How much guilt would I feel if I did? Oh, but it would be so easy. The smartest kid in the class, if not eighth grade, if not the school, was my desk partner, and she was off sharpening her constantly-in-use pencil. Her test was not being guarded at all, and it was right next to me. And if I didn’t do well on this test, getting grounded for a week would be right around the corner. It was the logical thing to do, right? And as long as I learned the material for next time… “Yeah, right. I am not going to learn anything from copying Samantha’s answer,” my heart told me. My brain said, “But—if mom and dad don’t find out—" “Well, I would know. And I would feel too much shame,” insisted my heart. “Who cares? This is an important test!” “Yeah, too important for cheating.” That’s when I noticed the staring. Every scholarly, ignorant, friendly, and cruel kid in my class was staring at me. And so was the teacher. For some reason, I burst into tears. What had just happened? I hadn’t said anything. No, no, it was my heart speaking and my brain speaking. Speaking to me—no, speaking to everyone, apparently. “That’s quite enough, Shauna,” said Mrs. Allyseth, my teacher. “We’re taking a test, and we don’t want to hear your mumbling, especially not mumbling about cheating. We don’t cheat in Room 37, do we?” “But, Miss Allyseth,” I said, acting like a child and forgetting to articulate “Mrs.,” “It wasn’t me! It was—” I pointed to my heart and brain—“them!” Mrs. Allyseth raised an eyebrow at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, “but whatever it is, it warrants a trip to the principal.” I groaned, then smacked the skin that covered my loudmouth heart and brain, but that hurt as much as the pain of this huge embarrassment, so I stopped. The principal, Mrs. Dromeda, greeted me with a stern look. “Please state the reason you’re here.” “Mrs. Allyseth sent me,” I said, taking deep breaths to regain my composure. Though I had managed to get out “Mrs.,” I was still a teary mess. “My brain wanted to cheat, and my heart didn’t, and they were arguing, and everyone heard!” I blubbered. I expected Mrs. Dromeda to be confused, but…she wasn’t. “Oh,” she mused, giving me a knowing look. “That happened to me when I was your age. You’re dismissed. But please—” she gave me a twisted smile—“don’t cheat.” I frowned. “Yes, Mrs. Dromeda,” I said. Then I left the office as quickly as I could.