The BEDMAS Conspiracy Read Online Free PDF

told us that side of the story, too, even though he isn’t totally convinced that you weren’t going to cheat. However, we know you and we love you—so we are willing to give you the benefit of the doubt there, Adam. We’d like to think that you know right from wrong. But we’re disappointed you went so far as to make a cheat sheet,” said my mom.
    My cheeks flushed. Knowing that they trusted me at least that much meant a lot.
    â€œThe truth is, your school work has been terrible all term,” said my father, finally getting to the crux of the matter. “The fact that you felt the need to make this cheat sheet is proof that you knew you were unprepared to write the test. We did a little investigating and found out you took an ‘incomplete’ on your last book report and history assignment.”
    I couldn’t believe they’d talked to all my teachers! The walls were suddenly closing in. Now my bedroom looked like it might become a jail cell. For a moment there, I had been hoping for a mild, two-week sentence with time off for good behaviour; but now the situation was looking grim.
    â€œWe’re worried about this, Adam. Do you remember last term’s report card?” My mom had it in her hand just in case I didn’t. She read aloud. “Mr. Papernick called you a daydreamer. Mr. Kagan said you had a vivid imagination but didn’t use it in your English assignments. Ms. Pemberley said you were clever in history but didn’t apply yourself. She wondered what you were always gazing at out the window. And now, you’re so focused on this new band. We’re worried you’re forgetting that you have other commitments—first and foremost, school. We’re thrilled you found something that interests you so much. But—”
    This ‘but’ was not heading to a good place. I tried one last time, “I didn’t—”
    â€œAdam,” said my mother seriously. I knew better than to argue with Mom when she used that tone of voice. “We support your dreams, dear, but it’s our responsibility to make sure you don’t neglect your school work. So…”
    Here it came.
    â€œ...we’ve set some targets that we’re sure you can reach— motivational targets.”
    Motivational targets! This did not sound good.
    â€œB’s on all of your tests and assignments.”
    â€œIncluding math?” I asked, panicking.
    â€œIncluding math,” answered my parents together. My mom continued. “We’ve arranged to have regular meetings with Mr. Papernick to make sure you’re staying focused.”
    â€œBut, Mom, Dad, what if I can’t reach these targets?” Even though I knew the answer, I had to ask.
    â€œThen you’ll have to leave the band,” said my father sympathetically. He seemed to be taking this harder than my mom.
    I could barely breathe. Getting B’s in all of my classes would take hours of studying! I felt like I was choking in a room full of smoke.
    â€œTake a big breath,” said my dad.
    I tried gulping back some air. This deal meant tons of work, especially if I wanted to fit in weekly piano lessons. It wouldn’t have mattered if they had taken away my TV and PlayStation privileges, because I had no more free time! But I didn’t have a choice. If it took a report card of B’s to win Wilcott’s Got Talent, then a report card of B’s it would be.
    I turned to my parents and gave them a weak smile. “Well, I guess I gotta start on my homework if I’m going to reach my motivational targets.” But inside, I wasn’t smiling. Worried, I headed to my room to try and make sense of that mess of numbers called algebra.

L uck seemed to be on my side. I got a B on my geography test and eked out a B-minus on a spelling quiz. My parents weren’t happy about the B-minus.
    â€œYou didn’t tell me what kind of B I had to get,” I