by Jefferson Scott

“Ninety-one minus 47 is . . .”

The whole class watched Jake think it through.

Irwin stood up front with Jake, Trish, Terry and Mackenzie. All of them had entered their answers on the touch-wall plasma screens, but the answers remained hidden.

Ms. Hollins-James stood at the back of the class.

“Take your time, Jake,” the teacher soothed. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. If you feel uncomfortable, you may return to your seat for a bonus.”

Irwin wanted to roll his eyes. How crazy is it to be rewarded for not being able to subtract? But that’s how public school was in 2074. And Irwin knew better than to challenge the teacher.

Jake stood there, wiggling his finger in his ear before speaking.

“Ninety-one minus 47 is . . . 16.”

Ms. Hollins-James smiled. “That’s a wonderful answer, Jake. Please tell the class how you arrived at that conclusion.”

Irwin wanted to scream. Sixteen? Ninety-one minus 47 is sixteen?!? The answer’s 44!

“Well,” Jake said, looking proud of himself, “I just like 16, you know? It’s like 91 upside-down.”

“Wonderful!” Ms. Hollins-James said. “You see, class, as long as you have a reason for what you believe, your answer is right for you. Sixteen! Marvelous, Jake. I look forward to your speech at the ‘Share Your Views’ assembly today. Trish, what conclusion did you reach?”

Trish thought 91 minus 47 was 138, because she only liked adding. Mackenzie said it was 20 because she thought no number should ever be higher than 20. Terry said it was 44, but he couldn’t give a good reason, so Ms. Hollins-James marked him down.

“All right, Irwin,” Ms. Hollins-James said, “I’m sure your answer will be most amusing.”

Irwin pushed the touch wall to reveal a 44.

“The answer’s 44,” Irwin said. “I don’t think it’s 44, and I don’t believe it’s 44. I know it’s 44. There’s only one right answer to this question. Every other answer is wrong.”

Ms. Hollins-James’ face turned white, which was kind of fun to watch, but the fun didn’t last.

“Irwin Tyler, shut your mouth! I’ll not have your close-minded talk in my classroom!”

“Ms. Hollins-James,” Irwin said, “I’m just saying that some questions only have one right answer. How could we fly to Mars if math didn’t work the same every time? How could our teleporter machines work if—”

The teacher stomped toward Irwin and escorted him to the door.

Troubled

Irwin dropped his backpack on the carpet and dove into bed, rattling his chemistry set on the table.

His mom leaned into his room. “Hey, Buddy, you’re home early. Anything wrong?”

He covered his head with a pillow.

“OK, what happened?”

“Oh, Mom! I got in trouble again today.”

“In Cultural Sensitivity class?”

“No, math,” Irwin groaned. “Everybody’s answers are always right, you know? Even if they’re totally wrong, Ms. Hollins-James says they’re right. It’s not even math. We should call it ‘fun with numbers’.”

“Oh, Honey, I’m sorry,” Irwin’s mom said. “Remember the Lord is your armor. You’re safe in Him even when you’re surrounded by enemies.”

Irwin dropped his head into his pillow. “I guess.”

“All right. I have to go a meeting. You’ll be OK until dinner?”

“Sure.”

Irwin heard his mom leave the house and take off in the flightcar.

Dear Jesus, he prayed, I hate living like this. It’s like the world is upside down. Wrong answers are right, and right answers are called wrong. I want to stand up for the truth, but I always get in trouble. Can’t You change something, please? Amen.

Tanks A Lot

Whu-THUMP.

The ground shook. Test tubes fell over in a clinking landslide. It felt like a mini-earthquake.

Irwin looked through the shades into the front lawn and saw a V–384R battle tank. Its long barrel gleamed in the sun. The reactive duotonium armor glistened like dark green ice.

“Whoa.”

This was Irwin’s dream machine. He had every weapon system memorized. He knew the turning speed of the turret, the number of nonlethal rubber pellets it could fire per second—even the battery life of the Hydrix Solerum automated guidance system.

He ran through the house and threw open the front door, certain the tank would be gone. But there it sat.

Groundcars drove by. Flightcars zoomed over. A kid on a levboard cruised by on the sidewalk. No one seemed to notice it.

Irwin knocked on the dark green armor.

“Hello? Anybody in there?”

When no one answered, he climbed up to the commander’s hatch. He grabbed the handle and looked inside.

“Hello? Tank people? You’re smashing our lawn.”

Irwin lowered himself into the tank. He stood on the commander’s chair and looked through the thermal imaging array.

“Driver,” Irwin said in his most commanding voice, “prepare to travel due north at 88 mph. Gunner, load stun bullets and smoke shells.” He chuckled and dropped down to the operations compartment.

He sat in the ops chair and touched the main screen. The menu appeared. All systems seemed to be on.

“Hey,” he said to himself, “let’s go for a little ride.”

Armed and Ready

The “Share Your Views” assembly was going on at the kickball diamond at school. Here in this tank—armored, safe and strong—Irwin felt something click. It was time to take a stand for truth. A stand for right answers. A stand for God.

Irwin activated the motors and lowered the VR glasses over his eyes. He grabbed the steering joystick with his right hand and the throttle with his left and pointed the tank toward school.

Two minutes later he saw kids sitting in chairs around the ball field. Irwin zoomed in on the boy at the microphone. It was Jake. As Irwin rolled up, he noticed again that no one seemed to be paying attention to the mammoth battle tank.

Jake finished his speech and walked away just as Irwin parked the V–384R at home plate. He activated the external speakers.

“Hello, school. This is Irwin Tyler,” he said. “You don’t have to be scared of me. I know I look tough right now, but I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

He noticed some kids looking at each other and laughing.

“I’m here to talk about truth. For four years I’ve gone to this school and heard any answer can be correct if you have a reason,” Irwin said. “But that’s not true. Everybody can’t be right all the time. Ninety-one minus 47 can’t be 16; it has to be 44—every time. Sometimes there is only one right way to do something.

“I’m not trying to be mean; I’m just saying what’s true. It’s the same with Jesus Christ. He’s the only right way. I’m not trying to make anyone feel bad if they sincerely believe in some other god. But your eternal life depends on getting this right, so I have to tell you that Jesus is the only—”

Irwin saw Ms. Hollins-James stand up. He flipped on his external microphone.

“. . . can’t come in here and tell us what to think, Irwin Tyler. Jesus is not the only way to get to heaven. All ways are valid if you’re sincere. Now let someone else talk!”

“But Ms. Hollins-James,” Irwin said, “isn’t this the ‘Share Your Views’ assembly? Don’t I get to share my views?”

“Not if you’re going to tell other people they’re wrong.”

“But you’re telling me I’m wrong, aren’t you?”

Ms. Hollins-James stormed toward the tank. But Irwin wasn’t scared. He was safe inside the armor.

“Ms. Hollins-James,” he calmly said, “I’m sorry I’ve made you mad. But I have to stand up for what I believe.”

He felt the students’ anger, their mean stares, the names they were calling him. But all of it just pinged off his mighty armor.

“Please, you guys,” he said, “come to Jesus. At the end of your life, you’re going to find out that there is only one right answer about God. If any of you want to talk to me about it, I’ll be behind the school.”

As he spun the tank around, something strange happened. It disappeared.

More like the tank sucked into him. He felt armored and safe, even though the V–384R was gone.

In his mind he saw a replay of the last few minutes. He saw himself walking—not driving—from his house. He saw himself standing in front of the people talking. And he saw their anger bouncing off the spiritual armor God had given him, not duotonium armor.

The tank had never existed.

Seeing the Light

Gulp. Suddenly, Irwin felt like running. But instead, he smiled, took a little bow and walked toward the school.

Irwin had gone about 20 feet when he heard a commotion. At first he thought it was the whole student body coming to beat him up.

He turned around and saw 12 kids following him. One was Terry.

“Irwin,” Terry said, “what you did. . . . Wow.”

Mackenzie was there, too. “Yeah, Irwin. That was so brave. And you’re right! I don’t know why I never saw it before. But I want to be brave like you.”

“Yeah,” the other kids said.

Behind them, the rest of the school watched the next person give her speech.

“Come on, guys,” Irwin said, smiling like a man with a battle tank, “let’s go talk about truth, right answers . . . and Jesus Christ, the only way.”

	Q: What is the best way to groom a pet rodent? A: Mouse-wash. Brennan P., 10, Florida Clubhouse Jr. Click here to subscribe