Text Leveling System

On My Honor

RDQ:	2186	Max Word/Sent	48	Total Words	3539		Diff Words	953
Lex	930	Ave Word/.Sent	10	Hi Freq occurs	2595	73.3%	Hi freq	402	42.2%
AR	5.3	Long Sentences	15.6	Low Freq occurs	181	5.1%	Low freq	147	15.4%

"CLIMB THE STARVED ROCK BLUFFS? You've
gotta be kidding!" Joel's spine tingled at the mere 
thought of trying to scale the sheer river bluffs in 
the state park. He looked Tony square in the eye. 
"Somebody got killed last year trying to do that! 
Don't you remember?"
Tony shrugged, popped a wheelie on his battered 
BMX, spun in place. "Nobody knows if that guy 
was really trying to climb the bluffs. He might have 
fallen off the top. . . or even jumped."
Joel bent over his Schwinn ten-speed and brushed 
imaginary dust off the fender. "Well, I'm not going 
to ride out there with you if that's what you're 
going to do. It's dumb" He tried to sound tough,]]
sure of himself Maybe, for once, he would be 
able to talk Tony out of one of his crazy ideas
"You don't have to climb if you're scared, Bates," 
Tony said.
"Who's scared?" Joel licked his lips, which seemed 
to have gone dry. "I'd just rather go swimming, 
that's all. It's going to be a scorcher today. Or we 
could work on our tree house. My dad got us some 
more wood."
"We can do the tree house later," Tony said, 
"after we get back. And I don't feel like swimming."
"You never feel like swimming," Joel muttered, 
seeing in his mind the shining blue water of the 
municipal pool. The truth was, Tony rarely felt 
like doing anything that Joel wanted to do. Joel 
wondered, sometimes, why they stayed friends. 
There had to be something more than their having 
been born across the street from each other twelve 
years ago, their birthdays less than a week apart.
Mrs. Zabrinsky, Tony's mother, started babysitting 
Joel after his mother went back to work 
when he was six months old, so he and Tony had 
spent their baby years drooling on the same toys. 
Now Joel just checked in with her during the day, 
let her know where he was going, things like that. 
But he didn't know what kept him and Tony]]
together except that, after Tony, other kids seemed 
boring.
"Come on, Joel," Tony said. "Ride out to the 
park with me today, and tomorrow I'll go swimming 
with you."
Joel thought of the long, curving, watery slide 
at the pool. He sighed. Tomorrow it would probably 
rain. Or Tony would have some other plan... 
as crazy as this one. He would pretend he had 
forgotten he promised to go to the pool. Joel 
resettled his lunch in the saddlebag behind his 
bicycle seat. It wasn't much fun to go swimming 
alone, but still it would be better than getting 
killed on the park bluffs. There were signs all over 
warning people to stay on the paths, and Tony 
wanted to climb from the river side, no less.
The front door of Joel's house opened and his 
father came out with Bobby, Joel's four-year-old 
brother. Mrs. Zabrinsky was Bobby's baby-sitter 
now, and their father was always the one to give 
Bobby his breakfast and take him to the Zabrinskys
house because their mother had to leave for work 
earlier than he.
Seeing his father and the firm grip he maintained 
on Bobby's hand gave Joel an idea. He would ask 
for permission to ride his bike out to Starved Rock.]] 
He wouldn't mention about the bluffs, of course. 
He wouldn't have to. His father was sure to say 
that the ride to the park was too far, too dangerous.
His dad always worried about things like that. Tony 
would be mad that he had asked, but they were 
supposed to ask, after all. At least Tony wouldn't 
be able to say that Joel had stayed home because 
he was chicken.
"Hi, Dad," Joel called. This was going to be 
easy. "Can I bike out to Starved Rock with Tony?"
He turned his back slightly to Tony to avoid seeing
what he knew would be a dirty look.
His father stopped and squinted against the 
morning sun that had just risen above the houses 
across the street. "All the way out to the state park?" 
he repeated, as though there were some other 
Starved Rock in Illinois.
"Yeah," Joel said. "It's not so far. Probably only 
ten or twelve miles"
"More like eight or nine, I think," his father 
said, approaching with Bobby in tow, "but it's 
still a long ride."
"I wanna go, too," Bobby announced. "I wanna 
go to the park. Can I, Daddy? Can I, Joel?" His 
voice reminded Joel of the hovering whine of a 
mosquito. Their mother said whining was a stage]]
all four-year-olds went through. Joel thought a 
year was a long stage.
"It's a hot day," his father continued, ignoring 
Bobby's plea, "and that road is awfully narrow...
hilly and winding, too."
"Can I, Daddy?" Bobby's voice rose in volume 
and pitch. "Can I go with Joel?"
"No?' Their father shook his head. "I'm not 
even sure these two are going anywhere. Now, 
you run across to the Zabrinskys. But be careful, 
Bobby! Watch for cars!"
There were almost no cars to watch for on their 
quiet street, but their father always said things 
like that anyway. Bobby went, his lower lip sticking 
out like a shell
"We'll be careful, Dad." Joel could hear the 
whine in his own voice. He sounded almost as 
bad as Bobby. He sounded as if he really wanted 
to go.
"We will, Mr. Bates. Honest!" Tony pleaded.
"The park's not that far. . . and there's not much 
traffic during the week."
Joel's father ran his fingers through his hair, 
leaving it standing on end. "I know the traffic is 
sparse, but with all those hills. . . it'll seem like 
a lot farther."]] 
"If we get tired, we'll just turn back," Tony said. Joel didn't say anything more. To win this argument would be to lose. He was sure, though, that his father wasn't going to give permission.
His father surveyed their bikes, frowning slightly. Joel wondered if he was going to ask why Tony was carrying a rope looped over his handlebars.
To tie ourselves together when we climb, Tony had announced. But Joel's father merely said, "You have lunches packed already?"
"Sure," Tony answered, patting the lunch he had tied to his handlebars with the rope.
Joel's father turned back to him. "You know you have your paper route to do this afternoon, Joel."
Joel nodded. He knew. Maybe that would be an excuse.
"What if you boys get too tired to ride back? Tony's mother doesn't have a car, and I don't want anybody to have to leave work to come after you."
Tony was looking at Joel, obviously waiting for him to play out his side of the argument.
"We won't get tired," Joel said automatically. His father's eyes seemed to know better, but he turned to Tony and asked, "Does your mother know what you're planning to do?"
"Sure," Tony answered cheerfully, and Joel knew,]] 
without even checking Tony's face, that he was lying. He never told his mother anything if he could help it, and she was so busy with the littler kids that she didn't ask many questions.
His father merely accepted Tony's word with a nod - grown-ups could be really dense sometimes - but then he almost redeemed himself by suggesting, "How about trying the county road that goes out of town the other way? It's flat and would be easier riding."
"It doesn't go anywhere," Tony complained. "Besides, it's boring. Nothing but cornfields on every side."
No bluff to climb, Joel added silently.
Joel's father sighed, buttoned his suit jacket, and then unbuttoned it again. The sigh gave Joel's stomach a small twist. His father wasn't actually considering giving permission, was he? Tony's father would have answered in a second. He would have said, "No!"
"What do you think, son?" his father asked. "Do you really think you can make it all the way to the park and back without any trouble?"
Joel could feel Tony watching him, waiting. "Sure," he said, though his throat seemed to tighten around the word. "It'll be a cinch."]] 
Joel's father shook his head. "I doubt that, but I guess it won't hurt you boys to be good and tired tonight."
Joel's knees went watery. His father was going to say they could go!
"We'll build up the muscles in our legs," Tony announced, jubilant.
Joel's father didn't take his eyes off Joel's face. "On your honor?" he said. "You'll watch for traffic, and you won't go anywhere except the park? You'll be careful the whole way?"
"On my honor' Joel repeated, and he crossed his heart, solemnly, then raised his right hand. To himself, he added, The only thing I'll do is get killed on the bluff, and it'll serve you right.
His father looked at him for a long moment; then he nodded his head. "Okay," he said. "I guess you're old enough now for a jaunt like this?'
"Put her there, man," Tony exclaimed, holding a grubby palm toward Joel, and then he added, "I get dibs on the Schwinn!"
Joel gave Tony five, taking in his friend's face as he did. Tony's dark eyes were bright with laughter, with fun, and he was grinning like a circus clown. Joel shook his head. "How can you get dibs on my bike?" he asked, though he knew]] 
how. When you were Tony, the outrageous seemed natural.
His father was still watching him, so Joel added, automatically, "Thanks, Dad." He tried to sound as though he were really glad. He even forced a smile, though his mouth felt stiff. "Thanks a lot."
His father nodded again, his face remaining serious. "Remember, son," he said one last time, "you're on your honor"
"Sure," Joel replied. The least his father could have done was to remind them about staying off the bluffs. "I know."]] 
JOEL WATCHED HIS FATHER. DRIVE AWAY. HE felt betrayed, trapped. How could he explain to Tony that he had been kidding, that he had never had any intention of going with him to the park once the idea of climbing the bluffs had come up?
"Can I ride your bike, Joel?" Tony begged. "Can I, huh?"
Joel sighed. Tony was like a kid expecting Christmas, not someone about to risk his life. "Just for the ride out," he said. When they came back - f they came back he knew he would be glad for the gears on the Schwinn to make the ride easier.
Tony's bike was a hand-me-down that had belonged to three older brothers before it had come to be his. There were no fenders, no handlegrips,]] 
and only a few flecks left of the original red paint. It was perfect for wheelies, though, and for going off ramps. Joel's silver ten-speed could be ridden fast or it could be ridden slowly, but it wasn't good for anything else.
Joel reached over to take hold of Tony's bike, supporting his own for Tony at the same time. "Come on," he said. "Let's go."
It took only about ten minutes to reach the edge of town. On their way past the school, Tony stuck out his tongue in the direction of the sixth grade classroom where they had spent last year. Joel, deciding he might as well get into the spirit of the day, followed suit, though he liked school well enough.
The sun sizzled in a sky so blue it could have been created out of a paint can. When they left the town behind, they rode between stands of tall, whispering grass rising on each side of the highway. Meadowlarks called from the ditch banks.
Tony's exuberance knew no bounds. He rode in figure eights or in circles that occupied both lanes of the nearly deserted highway. Once he tried a square and nearly toppled off Joel's bike.
Joel moved ahead, and when he started down the hill into the Vermilion River valley, he leaned forward and pumped, pushing Tony's old bike]]
until it hummed. This was the first of many valleys they would encounter, and Joel knew going up the other side would be tough. Maybe, he thought, with a sudden rush of hope, Tony would get tired before they got all the way to the park.
Soon the bike was going faster than he could pump, so he had to let it coast. Still it gathered speed. He tried, once, to glance over his shoulder to see how close behind Tony was following. His front wheel wobbled dangerously when he turned his head, though, so he kept his eyes forward, concentrating on keeping the wheel still. His tires buzzed against the smooth blacktop, and the wind swept through his hair, holding it back from his face as if by strong fingers. It forced his eyelids open and made his eyes feel dry and crackly.
By the time Joel got to the bridge, the lowest point between the two hills, he would be flying. With the speed he had built up, he figured he could be halfway up the other side before he had to get off to push.
Joel reached the bottom of the hill and shot across the bridge so fast that he didn't get even a glimpse of the river below. He knew exactly how
it would look, though, muddy red with lazy, oily looking swirls. As soon as the bike's momentum]]
slowed enough that his legs could keep pace with the spinning wheels, he started pumping, measuring his distance on the upward side, standing when the pumping began to get hard so he could force each pedal down with all his weight.
When his legs began to feel rubbery, he climbed off and started pushing. Tony would probably pass him, still riding the Schwinn.
"That was some hill, huh?" He tossed the words over his shoulder. Getting no answer, he turned around to see where Tony was.
Tony was at the bottom of the hill in the middle of the bridge, the Schwinn leaning carelessly against the fat iron railing. He was hanging a long way out over the railing, peering down at the river.
"Bummer!" Joel said and, glancing up and down the highway to check for cars - even when he was mad at his father he couldn't help doing things like that -he U-turned, climbed back on, and began coasting again. Next time he wouldn't get more than a few feet trying to start up from a dead stop at the bottom. He would have to walk the entire hill. But of course Tony didn't think of things like that. Maybe it was time they traded bikes back again.]]
"What're you looking at?" he asked, as he popped a wheelie and spun next to Tony.
"The river," Tony replied, leaning out even farther. "I'm looking at Old Man River."
"No, you're not. Old Man River is the Mississippi. That's nothing but the Vermillion down there" Tony didn't answer. Joel knew his correction didn't matter to Tony. If he wanted to call the Vermillion Old Man River, he would. He was that way in school, too ... even on tests. He drove the teachers nuts.
Looking at Tony leaning over the railing like some kind of acrobat on a trapeze, Joel suddenly had to turn away. He wished Tony would be more careful.
Beyond all reason he also wished, as he often had before, that Tony were his brother. They could be twins ... the kind that didn't have to look alike or be alike either. With so many other kids in the family, the Zabrinskys wouldn't miss Tony. If they needed a replacement, Joel would gladly trade Bobby-the-Whiner.
"You realize," Joel said, "that it's going to be a long walk up that hill."
Tony straightened up and grinned, his teeth bright against his already tanned skin. "We don't
have to go to Starved Rock," he said. "Maybe I've got a better idea."
"Better than Starved Rock?" Was there a chance he wasn't going to have to argue with Tony about climbing the bluffs?
Tony did a little jig next to the bridge railing as if he could explain himself that way. "We've got lots of time. We can do anything we want."
"Sure we can!" Joel agreed enthusiastically. "We could even go swimming."
Joel couldn't believe his luck. "All tight!" he exclaimed, holding out the flat of his palm for Tony to slap.
Tony ignored the gesture and instead bowed, extending a hand in the direction of the reddish brown water slithering far beneath the bridge. "It's a great day for swimming;" he said.
Joel stared. "In the river?" he demanded. "You want to go swimming in the river?"
Tony shrugged elaborately. "Where else?" "You might as well go swimming in your toilet." "Who says?"
"My dad says! That's who."
"`My dad says," Tony mimicked, his voice coming out high and girlish.
Joel decided to ignore the taunt. He decided,
also, not to remind Tony of the promise he had been required to make to his father before they left. "You know we're not allowed to swim in the Vermillion. Nobody is. It's dangerous ... sink holes and currents. Whirlpools, sometimes! Besides being dirty"
"Alligators, too, I bet." Tony was suddenly solemn, though his eyes still danced. "The red in the water probably comes from all the bloody
pieces of swimmers the gators leave lying around." "There's no alligators in the Vermillion! Do you think I'm stupid or something?" Joel could feel his face growing hot, despite the fact that he knew Tony was only teasing. "And the color just comes from clay, red clay."
"That does it!" Tony said, crossing his arms and pulling his T-shirt over his head. "If there's no 'gators and no blood, I'm going swimming for sure."
Leaving Joel's Schwinn still perched haphazardly against the railing, he went whooping the length of the bridge and crashed through the underbrush along the side of the road. He was swinging his pale blue shirt over his head like a lasso.
"Come on, Joel," he yelled back. "The last one in-'s a two-toed sloth!"
JOEL WATCHED TONY YELLING AND FLAILING his arms as he ran down the steep hill to the river. He shook his head. That patch of shiny green leaves halfway down that Tony was romping through was probably poison ivy.
He glanced over at his bike. Tony hadn't even bothered to hide it in the weeds along the side of the road. Joel propped Tony's old bike against the railing and wheeled his own off the bridge, laying it gently in the weeds beneath the structure. He considered, for a moment, leaving Tony's bike right where Tony had left his, out in the open where anybody could steal it. He didn't, though. If Tony's bike got stolen, he might never get another.]]
Swimming in the Vermillion! Of all the crazy ideas! Maybe even crazier than climbing the bluffs. Joel shook his head as he laid Tony's bike next to his own; then he started down the hill.
"You see what I mean?" Joel said when he arrived next to Tony on the riverbank. "It's really dirty. And the worst of the stuff, chemicals and sewage, you can't even see"
Tony ignored him, stripping off his jeans and his underwear. He had already dropped his shirt and kicked his sneakers off before Joel arrived. "It's wet, isn't it?" he asked.
"Like I said," Joel replied, "so's your toilet." Tony stepped into the river at the edge, and the dirty water lapping over his feet made them disappear entirely. He turned back to Joel and grinned. "Not enough water in my toilet. I tried it once to see"
"You would," Joel replied. He wanted to sound grumpy, but he could feel the answering smile breaking through.
"You coming in?" Tony called back when the water swirled around his knees.
"I'm waiting for you to drown," Joel answered. "I just want to see it so I can tell your folks." "Keep them from worrying," Tony tossed back.
"Keep your mom from waiting supper," Joel replied.
They both laughed then, and when the laughter had faded, Tony said, "Well, are you coming in, or are you just going to stand there and gawk?"
"Who's gawking?" Joel pushed one sneaker off with the toe of the other. "You're nothing to look at."
The water was just right, cool enough to raise gooseflesh at first but not cold enough to be numbing. The flow past Joel's legs felt like a refreshing massage. He hadn't realized, though, that the current was so strong. It seemed as though the water were barely moving when he looked down from the bridge.
"Watch out for the current," he called to Tony, standing several feet upriver from him.
"Agh!" Tony cried, grasping himself by the throat with both hands. "The current! It's got me. It's going to suck me under. It's going to swallow me up!" And he toppled over backward, howling. His head disappeared beneath the foaming water he churned up.
Joel stood where he was, waiting. When Tony stood up, he was a prehistoric monster emerging]]

Subjective Criteria

Illustrations: No support

Dialog: Multiple speakers

Dialog: Broken dialogue

Dialog: Unlabeled Speaker

Vocabulary: More decoding/definition issues

Language: Many descriptive words

Sentences: Some Long/Complex

Text structure: Story/Poem

Inferences: Several Implications

Complexity: Several ideas - closely related

Concepts: Abstract/Complex Social

Chapters

Mature concepts: With common experiences or clear fantasy

Features

Character traits

Complex character relationships

Simple Plot

Mood/tone

Topic

Death

Swimming

Accidents

*Safety

Obedience

Honesty

*Family & Friends

*Feelings, Behaviors

Responsibility

Low Frequency Words

accepted	announced	approaching	bike's	blacktop
chemicals	churned	coasting	concentrating	cornfields
crackly	crazier	current	currents	curving
dangerously	despite	doubt	drooling	elaborately
encounter	enthusiastically	exuberance	fender	fenders
flailing	flecks	gators	gawk	gawking
gesture	girlish	glance	glancing	glimpse
gooseflesh	gotta	grasping	handlebars	handlegrips
haphazardly	honest	honor	hovering	ignore
ignored	ignoring	illinois	imaginary	intention
ivy	jaunt	jeans	jubilant	lapping
lasso	laughter	littler	looped	lunches
maintained	massage	meadowlarks	measuring	mention
mere	merely	mimicked	mississippi	momentum
municipal	muttered	numbing	occupied	olds
original	ourselves	outrageous	pace	peering
perched	permission	plea	pleaded	prehistoric
propped	railing	realize	reddish	redeemed
refreshing	replacement	required	resettled	ridden
riverbank	romping	route	rubbery	saddlebag
schwinn	scorcher	sewage	sheer	shrugged
sizzled	slithering	solemn	solemnly	sparse
spine	squinted	straightened	stripping	structure
suggesting	surveyed	swallow	swept	swirled
swirls	taunt	toed	toppled	tow
trapeze	unbuttoned	underbrush	underwear	upriver
upward	vermilion	vermillion	volume	wanna
what're	wheeled	wheelie	wheelies	whine
whiner	whining	whirlpools	whooping	wobbled
zabrinsky	zabrinskys