Question
A prophet is not without honor, but in his own country, and among his own kin, and in his own house”—that’s a quote from the Bible, King James Version. It turns out this applies to YouTubers as well. Here I am, ready to shoot the greatest video in the history of humanity, and I can’t get anybody to help me. “Come on, you guys,” I plead with my fellow vidiots— members of Hiawassee Middle School’s video club. “You can’t all have dentist appointments. It’s against the laws of probability!” “All right, you got me,” admits Hugo Verberg, raising his hands in surrender. “I don’t have a dentist appointment. The reason I won’t help you is because you’re completely out of your mind!” “What do you care?” I shoot back. “That’s my problem, not yours. I’m not asking you to do the hard part. I just need someone to be my wingman. Shoshanna—you’ll help me, right?” “Not in a million years,” is her reply. “You’re going to get yourself in trouble.” “I’ll put your name on YouTube as a coproducer,” I wheedle. “Oh, good,” she drawls. “It’ll help the cops spell my name right when we get arrested. I’m out, Brendan, and you’d be out too, if you had any sense.” So it’s no. No from Hugo, no from Shoshanna, no from Barton, no from the whole video club. Mauricia even suggests
that I should see a mental health professional. I slump against my locker, watching them walk away, deserting me. Where’s the loyalty? Where’s the club spirit? Where’s the fire of creativity? The betrayal stings, but mostly, I hate to miss out on this idea. It could be the next thing that goes viral. But it can’t go viral if it never gets made. I look around the crowded hall—kids loading up backpacks for dismissal. Do I know anybody? Actually, I know just about everybody, but none of them will meet my eyes. I’m not the most popular guy at school. I’m not sure why. I’m on the honor roll, president of the video club, champion of the Academic Decathlon two years running. Come to think of it, those are probably some of the reasons why kids aren’t lining up to ask what I’m doing after school today. Nobody even acknowledges my existence. Then, out of the passing parade, someone notices me hunkered down beside my locker. Oh, man, it’s Chase! That’s all I need to put the finishing touch on this perfect afternoon. Bad enough I can’t shoot my video. I don’t need to hang by the waistband of my underwear off a peg in the girls’ changing room. He pauses, frowning at me, as if trying to come up with where he remembers me from. It must be weird to walk around your own school knowing nobody when you should know everybody. A familiar face—even mine—must really stand out. “The cafeteria,” I supply. “We almost had lunch together. I’m Brendan.” His face relaxes into a sheepish smile of recognition. His arm sling is gone, and even his cuts and scrapes are fading. “Chase,” he introduces himself.
I have to laugh. “Everybody knows you.” How can I forget the face that starred in so many of my nightmares? With Joel Weber gone, I might be next on the list of preferred targets. I should have told him my name was Harold. Too late now. On the other hand, the word is Chase is off the football team, thanks to his head injury. And he certainly seems different than he was last year. Maybe that’s because once you’ve cut a guy’s chicken for him, he can never really be that scary again. So I try the impossible. “Hey, Chase, are you busy this afternoon?” He shrugs. “What have you got in mind?” I push my luck. “I’m shooting this video to put up on YouTube, but I need a wingman. Can you help me out?” Part of me is screaming, Abort! Abort! It’s one thing to coexist in a world with people like Chase Ambrose. It’s quite another to recruit the guy for something nobody else will touch. He never actually says yes. He just goes with me. I explain on the way. And when I tell him how the video is going to go, he doesn’t even tell me I’m nuts. He just laughs and asks me if I’m kidding. “Just because something is funny doesn’t mean you treat it like a joke,” I assure him. “Comedy is serious business. If people are going to laugh at this, it’ll be because we worked hard at it and got it right.” He actually seems to think that over. “Yeah, I can see that. But I’m not the one who’s going in, right? My doctor would freak out—not to mention my mom.” Wow, Chase Ambrose has a mom! I always thought the popular people floated down to earth in a column of pure light
write 1 inference and cite
that I should see a mental health professional. I slump against my locker, watching them walk away, deserting me. Where’s the loyalty? Where’s the club spirit? Where’s the fire of creativity? The betrayal stings, but mostly, I hate to miss out on this idea. It could be the next thing that goes viral. But it can’t go viral if it never gets made. I look around the crowded hall—kids loading up backpacks for dismissal. Do I know anybody? Actually, I know just about everybody, but none of them will meet my eyes. I’m not the most popular guy at school. I’m not sure why. I’m on the honor roll, president of the video club, champion of the Academic Decathlon two years running. Come to think of it, those are probably some of the reasons why kids aren’t lining up to ask what I’m doing after school today. Nobody even acknowledges my existence. Then, out of the passing parade, someone notices me hunkered down beside my locker. Oh, man, it’s Chase! That’s all I need to put the finishing touch on this perfect afternoon. Bad enough I can’t shoot my video. I don’t need to hang by the waistband of my underwear off a peg in the girls’ changing room. He pauses, frowning at me, as if trying to come up with where he remembers me from. It must be weird to walk around your own school knowing nobody when you should know everybody. A familiar face—even mine—must really stand out. “The cafeteria,” I supply. “We almost had lunch together. I’m Brendan.” His face relaxes into a sheepish smile of recognition. His arm sling is gone, and even his cuts and scrapes are fading. “Chase,” he introduces himself.
I have to laugh. “Everybody knows you.” How can I forget the face that starred in so many of my nightmares? With Joel Weber gone, I might be next on the list of preferred targets. I should have told him my name was Harold. Too late now. On the other hand, the word is Chase is off the football team, thanks to his head injury. And he certainly seems different than he was last year. Maybe that’s because once you’ve cut a guy’s chicken for him, he can never really be that scary again. So I try the impossible. “Hey, Chase, are you busy this afternoon?” He shrugs. “What have you got in mind?” I push my luck. “I’m shooting this video to put up on YouTube, but I need a wingman. Can you help me out?” Part of me is screaming, Abort! Abort! It’s one thing to coexist in a world with people like Chase Ambrose. It’s quite another to recruit the guy for something nobody else will touch. He never actually says yes. He just goes with me. I explain on the way. And when I tell him how the video is going to go, he doesn’t even tell me I’m nuts. He just laughs and asks me if I’m kidding. “Just because something is funny doesn’t mean you treat it like a joke,” I assure him. “Comedy is serious business. If people are going to laugh at this, it’ll be because we worked hard at it and got it right.” He actually seems to think that over. “Yeah, I can see that. But I’m not the one who’s going in, right? My doctor would freak out—not to mention my mom.” Wow, Chase Ambrose has a mom! I always thought the popular people floated down to earth in a column of pure light
write 1 inference and cite
Answers
Answered by
GPT-4o mini
Inference: Brendan feels isolated and unappreciated by his peers despite his accomplishments, which is underscored by his struggle to get support for his video project.
Citation: "I’m not the most popular guy at school... I’m on the honor roll, president of the video club, champion of the Academic Decathlon two years running. Come to think of it, those are probably some of the reasons why kids aren’t lining up to ask what I’m doing after school today." This illustrates Brendan's awareness of his status and how it contrasts with his desire for connection and support, leading to his feelings of betrayal when his peers refuse to help him.
Citation: "I’m not the most popular guy at school... I’m on the honor roll, president of the video club, champion of the Academic Decathlon two years running. Come to think of it, those are probably some of the reasons why kids aren’t lining up to ask what I’m doing after school today." This illustrates Brendan's awareness of his status and how it contrasts with his desire for connection and support, leading to his feelings of betrayal when his peers refuse to help him.