Text Leveling System

Losers, Inc.

RDQ:	1779	Max Word/Sent	42	Total Words	3912		Diff Words	1039
Lex	870	Ave Word/.Sent	10	Hi Freq occurs	2716	69.4%	Hi freq	437	42.1%
AR	4.7	Long Sentences	13.1	Low Freq occurs	269	6.9%	Low freq	173	16.7%

One
Ethan Winfield straightened his shoulders as he stood against the measuring tape on the back of the kitchen door, trying to make himself taller. He placed his, hand on top of his head, glad for once of the blond cowlick that refused to lie flat. Then he turned around and checked where his fingers had touched the tape. Four feet, ten and a half inches:
Still four feet, ten and a half inches. He hadn't even grown a quarter of an inch since his mother had made the most recent mark on the chart back on his twelfth birthday, two months before, in November.
Ethan let his eyes fall on the tape again. His brother, Peter, was only two years older than he was, but at fourteen, Peter was a full eight inches taller. ""Of course Peter's taller. He's two years older!"" Ethan's mother had told him the last time she heard him complaining about his height. But when Peter was twelve, he'd been]]
two inches taller than Ethan was now. Also, Peter had always had better grades and a shelf full of sports trophies. It wasn't fair.
This past year Ethan had begun writing a book called Life Isn't Fair: A Proof. It wasn't a real book, just a list of experiences that made Ethan and his best friend, Julius, wonder whether the universe had something in particular against the two of them. For example:
Monday, January . Julius Zimmerman didn't have his math homework to turn in. Mr. Grotient said, ""I'll have to take 'five points off for that, Zimmerman."" Lizzie Archer, AKA the Lizard, didn't have her, math homework to turn in. Mr. Grotient said, ""Well, turn it in first thing tomorrow, Lizzie."" Tuesday, January . Ethan Winfield made six perfect baskets in a row on the playground before school. During gym class, when Coach Stevens was watching, he missed six baskets in a row. Wednesday, January . The cafeteria ran out of dessert. The last person to get a dessert was the person right in front of Ethan Winfield and Julius Zimmerman:
Thursday, January . Ms. Leeds called on people in alphabetical order to give their book reports, and everybody got theirs over with except for]]
Ethan Winfield and Julius Zimmerman; who had to go all by themselves the next day.
Friday, January . When Ethan and Julius finally did their book reports Ms. Leeds told them that the books they read were too short, even though she never: told the class ahead of time that the book report books, had to be a certain length. Ethan's book had pages. Julius's book had pages. The Lizard's book had pages.
The notebook was almost full. Usually Ethan had at least one unfair thing to add to it every day. Now he could add that he hadn't grown even a quarter of an inch in two whole months. Maybe he had stopped  growing. Maybe four feet ten and a half inches was going to be his full adult height, and he would spend the rest of his fife shorter than every single sixth-grade girl, except for the Lizard, . who apparently hadn't grown since she starred in Thumbelina in second grade:
Ethan poured himself a bowl of cereal and drowned it in milk. He had read that some farmers were giving their cows a special growth hormone that showed up in the milk. He took an extra: swig from the jug before putting it back in the refrigerator, just in case.
It was a tradition in the Winfield family that Ethan and Peter made dinner every Saturday night. The tradition]]
had begun when they were both still in elementary school. Back then Saturday night dinner had usually been frozen pizza, topped with whatever the boys could find in the refrigerator. But lately the dinners had been real food, prepared from real recipes in real cookbooks.
When Ethan came downstairs after a long, boring hour spent struggling with math homework, he found Peter in the kitchen, flipping through The Joy of Cooking.
""How about Swedish meatballs?"" Peter asked. ""Over noodles. And there's some stuff in the fridge for a salad.""
""Sounds good,"" Ethan said. He was hungry already. But Peter was always the one who decided what they would make. Ethan peered down at the open page of the cookbook. ""Or how about Hawaiian meatballs? Over rice.""
Peter shook his head. ""We don't have any pineapple.""
""Did you look? Sometimes Mom stores extra cans up high.""
But when Ethan searched the pantry shelves, he didn't find any canned pineapple. Canned pears, canned peaches, canned fruit cocktail. No canned pineapple. He should have known better than to bother checking. Peter was always right. It was one of the most annoying things about Peter.]]
As Ethan began: mincing the onions for the Swedish meatballs, he tried to remember if Peter had always been right, even way back when they were little. All of Ethan's memories were the same. Peter racing ahead on his two-wheel bike, without any training wheels, as Ethan struggled behind on his small plastic tricycle. Peter swimming, the length of the big pool as Ethan clung to his inflated tube in the baby pool. Not that Peter wasn't nice. He was nice. Almost too nice sometimes. But many of the entries in Life Isn't Fair. A Proof mentioned Peter.
Ethan had made two just that morning: Saturday, January . The regular West Creek newspaper, not the dumb West Creek Middle School News, had a picture of Peter Winfield on the front page of the sports section, scoring in Friday night's basketball game. Ethan Winfield has never even  had his picture in the dumb West Creek Middle School News.
Saturday, January . One girl from Peter Winfield's class' called him seven times on the telephone. No girl has ever called Ethan Winfield. Of course, Ethan Winfield does of want any girl to call him. Ethan Winfield would hang up if,any girl called him. But it is still true that no girl has ever called him.]]
As it turned out, the Swedish meatballs were delicious. Ethan had three helpings, spooned over hot, buttery noodles. Ethan's dad had three helpings, too.
""You boys could open a restaurant,"" Ethan's mother said. ""If you ever want a job cooking for Little Wonders, let me know."" Little Wonders was the preschool where she worked as a teacher. ""Our kitchen staff could definitely use some new ideas. What else did you two do this afternoon?""
""Nothing,"" Ethan said. ""Nothing,"" Peter said.
It was one of their favorite replies to their mother's questions.
""Peter, I saw you got a letter from Representative Bellon in the mail. Was that anything interesting? Had you written to him about something?"" she asked next.
Ethan almost never got any mail. But last year he had written to Representative Bellon about gun control, for a fifth-grade assignment on writing the business letter and the friendly letter. Representative Bellon had written back, thanking him for his concern. Ethan still had the letter.
""Actually,"" Peter said, obviously trying not to look too pleased, ""he was congratulating me on placing third in the state on that math thing I did last fall.""
""Oh, honey! Go get the letter. We want to see it!"" Peter rolled his eyes at Ethan, but he retrieved the letter from his room and handed it to his mother. She]]
read the letter out loud, then passed it to Ethan's father. Ethan's father didn't say anything, but he beamed at Peter.
""We have to frame this!"" Ethan's mother said. ""We can hang it in the hall, with all of your school pictures."" Then she stopped and looked quickly at Ethan. ""Do you still have your letter from Congressman Bellon?"" she asked him. ""We can frame both of them."" ' ""No,"" Ethan lied. ""I threw it away.""
He was going to throw it away, too, as soon as he got to his room. His letter was nothing like Peter's. Everyone in his entire class had written a letter to Congressman Bellon, and everyone had gotten the same letter back. ""Dear. Thank you for your concern about:. Caring young citizens like you are vital to the future of America. Sincerely, Andrew Bellon."" The only kid who had gotten a different letter, had been Lizzie Archer. Somehow even Representative Bellon had known that you couldn't write back to the Lizard with a form letter.
His mother gave Ethan a worried look. He pretended not to see it. He carried his empty plate to the dishwasher. Then he slipped upstairs to make another entry in his book.
On Sunday afternoon Julius came over to shoot baskets at the hoop on ; Ethan's garage door. Although it was January, the bright Colorado sun sent the temperature]]
soaring into the sixties, melting the snow that had fallen the day before:
Ethan made a few baskets, but he missed plenty, too. Julius missed every time. Unlike Ethan, Julius was tall for his age, but his long arms were spindly and awkward. When Ethan watched Julius play basketball, it began to seem physically impossible that any human being could actually catch that large round ball and throw it anywhere near, let alone through, a hoop that was hung so high and hard to reach.
Finally Julius dropped to Ethan's front step, panting. ""Let's face it;"" he said to Ethan cheerfully. ""When it comes to sports, you and I are losers.""
Ethan laughed, because Julius had a way of making everything he said sound funny. But Ethan hadn't  missed every single basket. He had gotten at least half of them well, some of them. He might not be as good a basketball player as Peter, but he wasn't as bad as Julius, either.
""We could form a club,"" Julius went on. ""It would be open only to losers. Like, you'd have to be bad at a certain number of things to' qualify. You'd have to miss the most baskets in P.E., and read the shortest books for English class, and have the worst experiment at the science fair.""
Ethan laughed again. He and Julius always did read the shortest books for English class; and they always did have the worst experiment at the science fair. He]]
had to admit that the club sounded perfect for the two of them. ""And math,"" he added. ""You'd have to get the most problems wrong on every math test:""
""We'll.call it . . ."" Julius broke off, as if waiting for a brilliant idea.
""Losers, Inc.,""than suggested.
""That's it!"" Julius said. ""I'll be the president, and you can be the vice president. Unless you want to be president?
""Nah. The club was your idea."" Besides, Ethan figured, it was more loserish to be vice president than president, even of a club for losers.
""We need a motto, too,"" Julius said. ""Like Winning isn't everything. Or Losers, and proud of it.""'
Ethan had a sudden inspiration. ""I have it: '.Some are born losers. Some achieve losing. Some have losing thrust upon them.""'
""Did you make that up?"" Julius demanded suspiciously.
""I heard it somewhere,"" Ethan said. ""About greatness. You knows some are born great . . .""
Peter rode his bike into the driveway, home from a hike in the mountains. ""Hey, Ethan, Julius,"" he said. ""How's it going?""
""Okay,"" Ethan answered for both of them.
Still on his bike, Peter held up his hands for the basketball. Ethan threw it to him. From halfway down the driveway, Peter took aim. The ball arched gracefully]]
through the air and swished through the net without touching the backboard.
So Peter was perfect. What else was new? Ethan was glad that he and Julius had formed their crazy club. There was something satisfying about being a founding officer ' of the one organization of which his brother could never be a member.]]
Two
On Monday morning, Ethan biked to school behind Peter and met Julius by the bike racks. Sometimes Ethan and Julius shot baskets together before school; today they just sat on the curb at he edge of the blacktop. Ethan scuffed his feet in the dirty sand dumped there after Saturday's snow:
""Hey,"" Julius said in a low voice. ""Look.""
Ethan looked up. He didn't see anything. Peter and his eighth-grade friends were shooting baskets at the far hoop. A bunch of girls watched them; giggling together. Farther along the curb, Lizzie Archer was sitting all alone, her wild red curls hanging down over her face. She was scribbling something in the notebook that she always carried with her. Probably she was writing a poem. The Lizard was always writing poems. ""Over there,"" Julius said.
Then Ethan saw her. She was tall, around Peter's]]
height. Maybe twenty. Or even older. Old enough to be a teacher. But she didn't look like any teacher Ethan had ever seen. The most unteacherly thing about her was her hair. It fell down her back in long, shining, silky waves, almost to her knees. She looked like Rapunzel. And her hair was pure gold, as' if Rumpelstiltskin had spent all night spinning it out of straw. Her face was beautiful, too. And her clothes were beautiful. On top she wore a big, bulky sweater, but under it she wore a thin, swirly, shimmery skirt, even longer than her hair. She stood watching the kids at play.
""I think""  Julius spoke in a thick, trancelike voice""I think I'm in love.""
This was not the first time that Julius had been in love. Julius had already been in love with two movie stars, one lead singer in an all-girl rock band, and a checkout cashier named Stephanie who worked at King Soopers. Ethan couldn't take any of,Julius's love interests very seriously, but at least none of them had lasted more than a week or two. Rapunzel was definitely the best-looking one yet.
The bell rang. Ethan and Julius joined the crowd of sixth graders. Ethan saw Rapunzel enter the school by the front door.
In homeroom, during morning announcements, Ethan found himself wondering what someone like Rapunzel was doing in West Creek Middle School. She was too young to be somebody's mother. Maybe she]]
was somebody's sister. Or a substitute? Ethan had never seen a substitute with hair like that.
On the way to first-period science class, Ethan and Julius looked into every classroom off the main hall, hoping for another glimpse of Rapunzel. They didn't see her. But when they turned into the 'science room, there she was, deep in conversation with Mr. O'Keefe.
""Good morning, class,"" Mr. O'Keefe said when all the students were in their seats. ""I'd like to introduce our new, student teacher, Ms. Grace Gunderson. Ms. Gunderson will be working with you  for the next five weeks, as part of her teacher training at the university. She's going to explain what she has planned for us.""
""Good morning,'' Ms. Gunderson said. Her voice was as beautiful as her hair, and face, and skirt. It was soft ,and low and a bit husky. Ethan glanced over at Julius. Julius looked ready to faint.
""I'm going to be working with you on your science fair projects,"" Ms. Gunderson went on. ""I think you all know that the West Creek Middle School science fair will take place on Thursday,: February 27. I hope some of you develop projects' that will be chosen for the regional science fair or even the state science fair. But most of all, I hope this will be a chance for all of , you to learn more about the beauty and wonder of science.""
If; Mr. O'Keefe had ever talked about the beauty and]]
wonder of science, Ethan would have snickered. He wasn't snickering now.
Ms. Gunderson explained or about how the science fair projects should be organized. Then she said, ""Now I want you to form small groups for brainstorming: about science fair ideas. I'll be circulating among your groups to begin talking with each of you individually.""
After they had counted off, Ethan found himself in the first group, with three other boys-not Julius--and two girls; including- Lizzie Archer. Ms. Gunderson pulled her chair over to join them.
""In science we start out- with questions,"" Ms. Gunderson said in her low, throaty voice. ""What questions about our physical world would any of you like to try to answer?""
Ethan had plenty of questions, but he kept them to himself. Why wasn't he growing? How come some people were better at things than other people? How could anybody have hair that long and smooth and silky without a single tangle?
No one else said anything, either, even the Lizard, who usually talked all the time in class with great,' embarrassing gusts of enthusiasm. But she was more enthusiastic about English and social studies and art than she was about science.
Finally David Barnett spoke. ""Well, I guess-maybe something' about electricity. Like dry cells. Or batteries, or something.""]]
""Do you have a particular question you would like to ask about electricity?"" Ms. Gunderson asked. ""Not really. I just like to hook up wires and stuff."" ""Electricity, then!"" Ms. Gunderson gave David an encouraging smile, but Ethan could tell that, five minutes into her' first day as a student teacher, she was already feeling discouraged.
""Anybody else? Remember, today we are just brainstorming. You don't have to have a well-formulated hypothesis you plan to be testing. We're just looking for a question, a real question, something you would' really like to find out.""
Lizzie raised her hand. ""I'd like to know whether well, this really isn't a science question, exactly but whether ... You see, I write poetry sometimes . . .""
All the time, Ethan thought.
""And there's this strange thing that happens when I write it It's like I hear this voice in my head,- telling me the lines to write down, and I  write them down just the way the voice says. So I'm wondering where that voice comes from. I mean, where do the words come from when I write a poem? Sometimes I think I must have heard them somewhere else, and I'm just remembering them. I get afraid' sometimes that I might be copying somebody else's poem, you know; without meaning to. Sometimes I even look in books to try to find the' poem, but I never can, so I must be making it up. But it doesn't feel as if I'm making it up. It feels just like I said, like a voice talking to me in my head.""]]
""So your question is .;
""Where the voice comes from.""_
""That's a very interesting question,"" Ms. Gunderson said, slowly. She sounded a bit bewildered. People often became bewildered when they were around Lizzie. ""Some people might not think of this as a scientific question, but I think a true scientist is someone who is interested in all questions about the physical world. Do any, of you have any idea how she might proceed?""
""She could go see Mr. Jonas,"" Alex Ryan said snidely.
Everybody laughed, except for Ms. Gunderson and Lizzie.
""Mr. Jonas?""
""He's the school shrink,"" Alex explained with a mean smirk. ""People who hear voices in their heads should see a shrink.""
The others laughed again, but this time Ethan didn't. He didn't want to laugh at anything Rapunzel didn't laugh at. And Lizzie looked ready to cry.
""Lizzie could write to other poets,"" Ethan heard himself saying. ""She could try to find out if they have the same experience. She could, you know, kind of do a survey or something.""
""That's a wonderful idea . . :"" Ms. Gunderson paused
for his name. ""Ethan.""]]
""That is a wonderful idea, Ethan."" When she said it, Ethan felt that she meant it, that he was the kind of person who had wonderful ideas all the time. The way Ms. Gunderson was smiling at him, Ethan felt smart and brave and strong and kind, as if he could climb to the top of the highest tower with no ladder other than her hair.
If this was what love felt like, he was in love.
Ethan floated through science class and art. Then, in third-period math class, he came down to earth with a  thud:
Mr. Grotient was a short, roly-poly man who always wore a bow tie and suspenders. He looked a little bit like an inflatable toy, held down by beanbag weights stuffed into his small, shiny black shoes.
""Boys and girls,"" he began, rocking slightly on his toes, ""today we are going to begin a new program called Peer-Assisted Learning.""
Ethan looked over at Julius. He could tell that Julius didn't know what Peer-Assisted Learning was, either. ""In Peer-Assisted Learning, students work together in pairs as Peer Partners. Peer Partners study together during class several times each week.""
Ethan met Julius's eyes again. They never worried about having to choose partners. They always chose each other:
""l worked out your Peer Partner assignments over]]
the weekend,"" Mr. Grotient went on. Ethan began to feel uneasy. He didn't want Mr. Grotient picking his Peer Partner. He wanted to be Peer Partners with Julius:
Mr: Grotient picked up a paper from his desk and began to read. ""Your Peer Partner assignments are: Lizzie Archer, Ethan Winfield. David Barnett, Julius Zimmerman. Susan Butler, Marcia Faitak ...
""
Ethan sat stunned. His Peer Partner was the Lizard. The teacher's pet. The poet who heard voices in her head. Thumbelina.
Ethan made himself look over at Lizzie. Lizzie's face was red. Was she as mad at being stuck with him as he was at being stuck with her? But she didn't really seem mad. She almost seemed to be blushing. Now that he thought of it, Lizzie had been giving him strange looks all morning, ever since he had stood up for her against Alex in science class.
""All right, class,"" Mr. Grotient said. ""We'll use the rest of the period to get started on Peer-Assisted Learning, PAL, for short; Move your desk next to your Peer Partner's desk, and begin working together on the problems for chapter seven.""
The others began shoving their desks around. Ethan watched numbly as Julius and David pushed their desks together. At that moment, Ethan was more of a loser than Julius': Julius hadn't been assigned the Lizard as his Peer Partner.]]
Marcia Faitak, who' usually sat next to Lizzie, pulled her desk over to Ethan's side of the room.
""Ethan.""' Marcia said his name in a conspiratorial whisper. She waved a sheet of lined notebook paper in Ethan's face. "" I found this on the floor last period; by Lizzie's desk.""
Marcia handed the paper to Ethan. He didn't want to read it, but Marcia plainly wasn't going to budge until he did:
He glanced down at the page and saw four lines of what had to be a poem. With Marcia's eyes boring into him, Ethan began to read:
For Ethan, My Hero
Alas, the winter wind doth blow,
But yet my love doth brightly bloom: However cold the driving snow;
I shall love thee till my doom.
Marcia snatched the paper away. ""She's coming!"" Marcia returned to her seat just as Lizzie, still blushing, pushed her desk next to Ethan's, so that their two chairs were almost touching:
Ethan didn't need to make any more entries in Life Isn't Fair. A Proof. He had all the proof he needed. Nothing like this had ever happened to Peter, or ever could.]]

Subjective Criteria

Illustrations: No support

Inferences: Some implications

Vocabulary: Some difficult words

Language: Many descriptive words

Sentences: Some Long/Complex

Text structure: Story/Poem

Complexity: Several ideas - closely related

Concepts: Abstract/Complex Social

Features

Character traits

Character development

Simple Plot

Topic

*Feelings, Behaviors

Low Frequency Words

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doth	drowned	electricity	elementary	embarrassing
encouraging	enthusiasm	enthusiastic	entries	ethan
ethan's	faitak	fife	formulated	founding
future	giggling	glimpse	gracefully	grotient
growth	gunderson	hawaiian	height	helpings
homeroom	hoping	hormone	husky	hypothesis
individually	inflatable	inflated	inspiration	interests
introduce	january	julius	lied	lizzie's
loserish	marcia	marcia's	measuring	memories
mentioned	mincing	nah	numbly	o'keefe
organization	organized	pantry	particular	partner
partner's	partners	paused	peer	peered
physical	physically	pineapple	plainly	poem
poems	poet	poetry	poets	preschool
president	proceed	projects	pure	qualify
racks	rapunzel	recent	recipes	refrigerator
refused	regional	replies	representative	restaurant
retrieved	rumpelstiltskin	ryan	satisfying	saturday's
science	scientific	scientist	scoring	scuffed
section	seriously	shelves	shimmery	shoving
shrink	sincerely	sixties	smirk	snatched
snickered	snickering	snidely	soaring	social
spindly	spooned	staff	starred	straightened
studies	stunned	substitute	survey	suspenders
suspiciously	sweater	swedish	swig	swirly
swished	tangle	throaty	thrust	thumbelina
tradition	trancelike	trophies	twelfth	universe
unteacherly	vice	vital	whisper	winfield
winfield's	wonders	zimmerman