Last in a Long Line of Rebels Read Online Free PDF Page A

a gold pocket watch peeked out of his vest.
    â€œAre you sure that’s everything?” I heard him ask.
    Mr. Tate shrugged. “That’s everything the family authorized us to sell. You might talk with them if you’re looking for something specific.”
    The man shook his head. “No, that’s not necessary. I was just checking.”
    Noticing us, Mr. Tate gestured to the side of the house. “Lou, there’s a few pieces of junk down in the cellar. If you and Benzer can grab that, you’ll be done.”
    We could smell the mold as soon as we opened the door.
    â€œYuck,” I said, putting a hand over my nose.
    Benzer pulled his T-shirt up over half his face. “Hurry.” He led the way down a set of rickety stairs.
    An old wooden box, covered in cobwebs, stood in the corner. We picked it up and piled a toaster, four moldy books, two stained lampshades, and a chipped shovel inside it. Working together, we were able to carry it up the stairs, out of the house, and into the sunlight.
    â€œWhew,” Benzer said, “that was nasty.”
    I bent down and looked at the box. “This is kind of cool.”
    Even painted a marine green and covered with mildew, there was something pretty about it. One of the iron hinges was missing from the top, and both handles were broken, but otherwise the box seemed in good condition. A carved border ran the length of the wood.
    â€œHey,” Benzer said, running his hand across the surface, “these look like birds.”
    â€œY’all ready?” Daddy asked, walking toward the truck. He was frowning, and I wondered if Mr. Tate had tried to avoid paying.
    â€œAs soon as we put this on the truck,” Benzer answered.
    I helped clear a spot in the truck bed. “Hey, Daddy. Can I keep this box?”
    â€œSure,” he answered without looking at me. “You know the rule—workers get first dibs.”
    Daddy was still frowning, and Benzer shot me a puzzled look.
    â€œIs everything okay, Daddy?”
    â€œNot really, ace. Mr. Tate just told me that Isaac didn’t win last night, and I know he needed a scholarship of that size to afford UT, where he was really hoping to go. But the coach gave it to the Canton boy.”
    â€œDrew Canton?” Benzer asked. “He’s not nearly as good as Isaac.”
    â€œWell, according to Coach Peeler he is. Stupid son of a—uh, gun.”
    â€œBut everybody knows Isaac is the best!” I said, jumping down from the back. “He even broke a school record last year.”
    Daddy opened the truck’s door and sighed. “Let’s get going.”
    I crawled in and leaned against the cracked upholstery. Daddy started the truck and pulled out of the parking area. He looked like he was as bummed as I was.
    â€œBut, Daddy,” I said, “why would Coach Peeler give the scholarship to Drew Canton and not Isaac?”
    â€œWell, I’m guessing he’d probably say that Drew was more involved in civic stuff, as well as having good grades. The scholarship is actually based on more than just athletics.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, ‘civic stuff’?” Benzer asked.
    â€œCommunity service, volunteering, that sort of thing. I’ve seen Drew’s truck parked at the food pantry every now and then.”
    I stomped the floorboard. “But that’s not fair. Isaac has to work on Saturdays.”
    â€œThese things are subjective, Lou. Do you know what that means?”
    I shook my head. “Not really.”
    â€œIt means something is based on perspective, not cold, hard facts. It’s like the difference between judging a beauty contest versus a bike race. A bike race is the first person across the finish line, but a beauty contest would depend on who was judging and what they considered good-looking. See?”
    â€œI guess so. So you think Coach Peeler gave Drew the scholarship because he volunteers more than