The Literature Club's Challenge

The Literature Club's Challenge

A stack of books slammed down on the table.
"Alright, guys!" Alex smacked his palm on the pile of books. "It's do or die!"
There was a moment of silence in which the three students sitting at the table looked from the stack of books to their friend.
"Why are we doing this again?" asked Nick, leaning back onto the rear legs of his chair.
"To save the Literature Club!" Another smack on the books.
"You really think we can do this, Alex?" Lily asked doubtfully, leaning her elbows on the table.
"Yeah, I mean, putting out an official manuscript by the end of the term is kind of impossible," said Susan. "We're only in 9th grade."
"Enough with the pessimistic attitude!" Alex smacked his palm with his fist. "Thoreau spent an entire year out in the wilderness - I think we can, at the very least, put out a fifty-page manuscript in three months!"
Lily moaned. "I'm going to miss this room. The large windows, the dusty bookshelves . . .."
"Yeah, we should probably clean those," mused Nick.
"It's not lost yet!" Alex said.
"Please, Alex," said Susan, massaging her temples, "Stop talking in exclamation points."
"Look, guys." Alex took a seat at the table. "I don't want the school to close down our club. We must rise in the face of adversity! We cannot lose to the Poetry Club, who would attempt to take over our club room! We must -!"
"Well, he had it for a sentence there," sighed Nick.
"What could we possibly write a fifty-page manuscript on, anyways?" asked Lily, picking up one of the books and flipping through it. She wrinkled her nose. "I remember this one. The main character's brother turns evil and kills them all."
"Hey!" cried Nick indignantly. "I hadn't finished that one, yet!"
"Oops."
"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is our classic Lily the Spoiler," Susan said, standing up. "Listen, Alex." She turned to the forlorn boy running agitated fingers through his brown hair. "You said it yourself: it's do or die. We'll get this manuscript done. Or we won't. Only time will tell."
Alex lifted his face to glare at Susan. "I hope that wasn't your excuse for a pep talk."
Susan sniffed, picking up her school bag and heading for the door. "Let's sleep on it. We'll come up with a game plan somehow. See you all tomorrow."
The door closed.
"She didn't have her coffee today, did she?" Nick asked in a stage whisper. Lily smacked him on the head with her book.
"So, Alex," said Nick, turning to his friend, "How did your dad seem about all this?"
Alex shrugged. "He really doesn't want the Literature Club to close. He's sentimental - he used to be in the club when he was a student."
"Like father like son."
Alex continued, "And all the teachers are prodding him to prod me to give up and hand the clubroom over to the Poetry Club. Ha! As if we'll ever give in to those rose-petal strewn idiots!"
"He's got a rough time of it, that principal," Nick remarked.
Alex groaned. "I hear enough of it at home, and yet he still made me play therapist all throughout lunch."
Nick reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "I feel for you." Then he stood up. "Ta-ta."
"And then there were two," said Lily as Nick left the room.
"Nah, I'm leaving." Alex slung his bag over his shoulder. "My mom's making franks-in-blanks tonight. If I don't hurry, the evil little sister will eat them all before me."
"Good luck," said Lily. "May evil never prosper."
Alex gave her a sergeant's send-off and then walked out of the clubroom. As soon as the door closed behind him, his shoulders slumped. None of them seemed to realize the obvious danger the Literature Club was in - except for him. So he would fight for the club with everything he had.

?

"Why don't we write about the incredible danger of texting language taking over the written world?" asked Lily, spooning a lump of mashed potatoes into her mouth. Alex, Lily, Nick, and Susan were all sitting in the noisy cafeteria, brainstorming for manuscript ideas.
Susan shook her head. "That's been talked about too much."
"Well, I'm all out," said Nick.
"We just started!" said Alex, exasperated.
Nick held up his empty juice box with a raised eyebrow.
"Save me from the idiocy of men," mumbled Susan.
Both boys shot her a glare and Lily gave a polite cough. "Back to the subject matter -"
"Why don't we ask Mr. Burk?" Susan suggested. "He can help us with a topic."
There was a moment of silence in which all four pictured their short, nasal-voiced, irritable teacher, who was their club's faculty advisor.
"How about . . . no," said Nick.
"And anyways, I don't trust the teachers," Alex said.
"Like father like son."
"Shut up."
They resumed eating in silence until a voice from nearby shouted Alex's name.
"Hey, Grent!"
They all looked up to see a short boy in a gray vest approaching the table. Alex sighed. "Hello, Bill. How nice to see you today."
"I've spoken with Mr. Burk," said Bill, stopping in front of Alex. "He says your club is to clear out of the room by the end of next week. We want to move our stuff in already."
Alex narrowed his eyes. "Funny, 'cause I spoke with the principal, who said we had until June. So stop bugging me."
"The Poetry Club needs that space more than you!" said Bill angrily. "We've actually been contributing to the school with our works - you four have just been lazing around talking about plot devices. You can just move into one of your own houses for that!"
Nick spoke with his eyes closed. "Stop acting like a clichbully, Billy. You're shorter than me by at least five inches. If you don't like our story, go tell the principal."
Lily's eyes widened, and she hurriedly pulled out a notebook and began scribbling something down, as if anticipating a fist-fight. But Bill just puffed up his chest, saying, "I will!", and strode off.
Alex sighed, slumping in his seat. "Man, I can't stand that kid."
"He's only a year younger than us," Susan said.
Nick scowled, opening his eyes. "I can't believe Mr. Burk told him to kick us out."
"Eh, he never liked us anyways," Alex said, waving a dismissive hand through the air. "He was kind of forced into being our advisor. And besides, we all know he adores little Bill. Must be the vest."
"Guys," said Lily in a hushed voice, "I have it."
They all looked at her. "Have what?" asked Susan.
"An idea. A really awesome idea!" Lily laid her notebook flat on the table so they all could see what she'd written:
"The problem of clichs and stereotypes in a changing world of literature."
They all stood there, staring, and then Alex gave a hoot. "Lily, this is perfect! You're amazing! How in the world did you think of this?!"
"Oh, there he goes again," said Nick.
"Just kiss her already," muttered Susan.
"It's what Nick said before," said Lily, blushing. "'Clichbully' . . . well, it got me thinking."
"Brilliant!" said Alex, grinning. "We can totally do something with this!"
Susan covered her face with her hands. "We'll never get him to stop now."
Alex grabbed the notebook and stood up from the table. "I'm going to tell my dad!"
He ran out of the cafeteria, ignoring Lily who cried out, "I need that notebook for my test next period!"
They finally had a topic.

?

The next day, Alex gathered them all in the club room after school. All the other clubs were now in session, and only a quarter of the student body had actually gone home.
Lily opened the window to let in some fresh air, then quickly closed it again to block out the shouts coming from the basketball courts, the gunshots from the track team, and the sound of musical instruments from the Orchestra club, which was only two rooms over.
Susan checked her watch. "We have a little over an hour to start an outline. What's the plan, Alex?"
Alex sat at the table, eyes closed in deep contemplation. Then he stood up.
"Lily and Susan, you get characters. Nick and I will cover phrases. We can either intersperse them throughout the manuscript or separate them - we can figure that out as we go."
"We can't just make a list and put it on paper," Lily said. "We need to clarify our goal and write to that end."
"We will," said Alex. "We'll have an intro and conclusion, and the body will go through every type of clichand stereotype out there, defining it, saying why it's bad, and ways to avoid it. That should be enough to cover fifty pages."
Susan rubbed her hands together. "Y'know, this is actually pretty exciting."
"Thank you!" said Alex smugly.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Nick handed out sheets of paper. "Operation Save Club - begin!"

?

"Alex! Alex, wake up!"
Alex jolted upright to see his math teacher, Mr. Wren, leaning over him, lips pursed and eyes filled with annoyance. The whole class was staring at him in shock, probably trying to remember a time they had ever seen Alex fall asleep in class before.
"Sorry, Mr. Wren," Alex said sheepishly.
"If my class bores you this much, Alex, you needn't burden yourself in coming."
Alex hung his head. "Sorry. I was up late last night."
Mr. Wren gave him a disapproving look and then moved back to the front of the classroom. Alex sank into his chair, face burning. The Literature Club had been working furiously the past two and a half months to finish their manuscript. They were currently editing their completed draft, and he had stayed up late to finish his part in the editing.
As soon as school let out, Alex hurried to the club room. They had two weeks left to the end of term - two weeks left to stop the school from closing down their club. When Alex got to the club room he saw his three club mates all sitting at the table, rifling through pages of their manuscript or checking up references in books.
"Hey, guys," he said, taking a seat.
"Hey, Nick replied, looking up from his papers.
"I finished the editing last night. And fell asleep in class as a result."
His friends all sat up and looked at him, stunned.
"What?" Alex asked uncomfortably.
"Who are you and what have you done with our friend?" Susan whispered dramatically.
Nick grinned. "So you are human, after all!"
Alex rolled his eyes. "We only need a few more days and then the manuscript's complete. We still need to print it, though."
"Almost there," said Lily weakly. "We're almost . . .." Like a wilting flower, she slumped onto the table.
"My sentiments exactly," said Nick.

?

"I am done," said Susan, throwing down her pen, "I am so done!"
The other three looked up at her, startled. They weren't used to Susan quitting like this.
"Come on, Susan, you can do it, put a little power to it!" chanted Nick.
"I can't." Susan slumped in her chair. "This -" she gestured at her papers - "is horrible."
"Hmm." Lily reached over and grabbed Susan's work. "Seems like you're organizing it well."
"The writing's atrocious!" Susan covered her face with her hands. "You can only write eloquently about clich for so long before it begins to rub off on you. Evil stepmothers, love triangles, and not to mention the character that goes and dies after reconciling himself with all his friends!"
"Alright, calm down," said Alex.
Susan took a deep breath. "The sooner we finish this, the better. I think it's starting to affect me."
"You think?" asked Nick.

?

Three days later they were done. The four friends stood in front of Mr. Burk's desk, watching their teacher read through their precious manuscripts. Alex was standing at attention, arms at his sides and staring straight ahead. Susan, arms folded, was biting her lip, eyes scanning Mr. Burk's face. Nick, however, appeared to be sleeping while standing, and Lily's frantic efforts to remain calm could be clearly heard in the quiet room.
Finally, Mr. Burk looked up, his mustache practically bristling. "Well, your idea was certainly . . . original. You did a thorough, if boring, job of explaining every type of clichand stereotype out there. And your goal to spread awareness to the public was amusing at best. However, you did fulfill all the requirements, so . . .." Mr. Burk took a deep breath while the four students held theirs. "I have no choice but to allow you to keep your club open -"
"YES!"
"On the condition," Mr. Burk continued, "that you complete a manuscript every year showing that your club is contributing to the school."
"What?!"
Mr. Burk clasped his hands together. "You heard me. If you don't contribute to the school, your club can't stay open."
Nick and Susan stood there open-mouthed, but both Alex and Lily promptly said, "Yes, sir!"
"Right. And I'm giving you the honors of telling Mr. Bill Rogers that the Poetry Club isn't getting your room."
Alex paled. Nick grinned. "Yes, sir!"
Mr. Burk sighed. "Off with you now."
The four students filed out of the room, their faces shining.
"We did it!" Alex crowed once they were out of earshot.
"Of course we did it," Susan sniffed.
"Let's celebrate with ice-cream," said Nick.
"Sooo, who's going to tell the Poetry Club?" Lily asked.
As one, they all looked at Alex.
"No way," he said. "Nick's doing it. I'll pay for the ice-cream."
"Deal."
The four friends turned a corner and smacked straight into Bill, who had probably been coming to find out Mr. Burk's verdict.
"Well?" Bill asked defiantly.
Nick grinned maliciously. "Hold onto your caps, boys, because the Literature Club is still in session!"