Mr. Terupt Falls Again (4 page)

There were also times when Anna came over with her mother. Anna and I found all sorts of things to do together, and once in a while Anna hung out with my brother and I hung out with her mom. That’s when I got to do some artwork with Terri, but we always did it out of sight of Grandma
and Grandpa. Mom and Dad had grown comfortable around Terri. Mom even offered Terri coffee or pie when she came over, and she was getting better at having conversation with her.

Every day was different in a good way. In fact, I can only remember two bad days. One was on the hottest afternoon of the season when a group of us decided to go to the public pool. I had just put my stuff down when some jerk walked by and said, “No whales allowed.” No one else heard him, but I didn’t even get in the water. That was definitely a crummy day, but this other time upset me more because I didn’t understand why what happened was a big deal.

I was outside. It was sunny, both hot and bright, and I was sweating. I was with Grandma, working in the garden. I wasn’t right next to her, so it wasn’t until I looked up that I saw she was over with Grandpa, peering off into the distance. I shaded my eyes and looked as hard as I could. The only thing I could make out was a man walking across our fields. He was way far out, so I couldn’t tell much about him. But I could tell that Grandma and Grandpa were getting all mad. They made hard arm gestures and Grandpa stomped away. When Grandma turned toward me, I saw her twisted and pained face.

I walked over to where she stood. “Grandma, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

“Grandma, I saw that man walking across our fields and I saw you and Grandpa. What’s wrong?”

“I said nothin’. Now back to pickin’ those weeds and don’t ask me any more questions.”

Later that night, I found my family sitting around the kitchen table in serious discussion. When I walked in, the talking stopped. I knew something was up, and it wasn’t “nothin’,” like Grandma had said.

That’s the day that kept coming back to me. I didn’t know what it was all about, but I had a feeling it wasn’t good. I kept staring out into our fields, and so did Grandpa, but I never spotted anyone else out there.

Dear God
,

I’m not sure what that man was doing in our fields. I’m not sure who he was. But he seems to have given Grandpa, and the rest of my family, a lot to worry about. Please comfort them, and help me figure out what’s going on. And God, this isn’t as important, especially ’cause I know how busy you must be, but if you do have the time, I’d like it if you could teach that mean boy from the pool a lesson. Thanks. Amen
.

F
ADE IN: Camera starts with an aerial view of Snow Hill School. We see children entering the building with brand-new backpacks and bright sneakers. Camera follows JESSICA as she walks through the front entrance. We see teachers greeting students as they arrive. We follow JESSICA out the side door and down to the annex, where we find MR. TERUPT standing outside his door
.

A proud MR. TERUPT smooths his tie and tips his head in appreciation
.

FADE OUT
.

I
magine being reminded of the worst thing you ever did—every single day for the rest of your whole entire life. I suppose people sentenced to life in prison might feel that way. I still thought about that day in the snow all the time, especially when I was with Mr. T.

You know how when you see something different or unusual, it’s hard not to stare? But after a while, you get used to it and then you don’t need to keep staring? Mr. T had a dent on the side of his head where they did the surgery. I used to stare at it all the time on those days when I was helping him, but eventually I got used to it. Getting used to it didn’t mean it stopped reminding me of that snowball, though. I wasn’t ever forgetting about that.

In some ways the start of school was no different from the summer. Richard went back to his prep school, Northfield
Mount Hermon, and Mom and Dad kept up business as usual. That left just me and Miss Catalina, our au pair, at home.

The different part was that the clock started ticking. I knew it was going to be an awesome sixth-grade year with Mr. T manning the controls, but I also knew this was the beginning of the end. There was no chance of Mr. T following us to seventh grade, because there was no seventh grade at Snow Hill School. Instead, we’d have sixth-grade graduation, then move on to the regional high school. That was true for everyone but me. My new school would be Riverway, an all-boys’ junior boarding school for grades seven and eight located in Massachusetts. The same school my brother, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had all attended. So this was it.…

Until I came up with one of my brilliant ideas. An idea so smart Luke would have been proud. My plan was to fail—on purpose! I’d fail sixth grade, then I’d have to repeat the year with Mr. T. It was ingenious.

I never dreamed of wanting to do that before. Make school last longer, that is. It wasn’t about school, though, just my time with Mr. T. And that’s the other thing. Since my time with Mr. T was so special to me, the days flew by.

I
t had to be on all our minds. Would this year be like last year? Before the snowball? Last year Mr. Terupt had one awesome idea after another. Would it be like that again? I got my answer right away.

“Okay, gang. There’s no point in waiting, so let’s get started,” Mr. Terupt announced. “I have our first book here, and with it … there will be a competition.”

I sat up straight. I looked at Jessica, and we both smiled. Yes! I thought.

“The book we’re going to use is
The Westing Game
by Ellen Raskin.” Mr. Terupt held the book up for us to see. “It won the Newbery Medal in 1979.”

“Oooh, Newberry,” Peter teased. “Like a real pretty teacher here.”

“There’s no connection between the medal and Ms.
Newberry—thank you, Peter,” Mr. Terupt said. “Though she is just as special,” he added under his breath.

It was good to see Peter teasing Mr. Terupt. I hoped Peter could get back some of his fun self. Just not too much of it.

“What’s it about?” Marty asked.

“What’s the competition?” I asked.

“Slow down, fellas,” Mr. Terupt said. “I’m getting there. Give me a second.” Mr. Terupt took a deep breath and paused for a moment while holding on to the front table, his eyes closed. Then he continued. “This story is a murder mystery. The competition is a race to see who can solve the crime first.”

Yes! I thought again.

“As soon as you think you know, you will write down your guess along with an explanation of how you got your answer. You’ll put your solution in a sealed envelope and it will stay sealed until we finish the book. We’ll finish the last few chapters together in class, and then we’ll open each of your solutions to see who got it right, or who came the closest. We’ll make it a special ceremony.”

“This is going to be awesome!” I exclaimed.

“Calm down, Luke. Let Mr. Terupt finish,” Wendy said.

Mr. Terupt nodded. “As soon as you think you have it figured out, you can submit your solution. If two people get it right, then the person who submitted first wins. So don’t forget to date your solutions.”

Here was our first riddle. Awesome! After my summer science training, there was no way I was going to miss out on solving this mystery.

“Lastly,” Mr. Terupt continued, “since I’ve never read the book, I will also take part in this competition.” He looked right at me after saying that.

“You’re going down,” Peter said to Mr. Terupt. It was nice having Peter on my side.

Mr. Terupt chuckled. The challenge was on.

M
r. Terupt sent his book team (that’s what he called me and Peter after all the book moving we did this summer) to the library to get copies of
The Westing Game
. Lexie and Luke came with us because they had arrived early that morning as well. Mr. Terupt didn’t need to send all four of us, but the errand gave us something to do. The plan was to start
The Westing Game
later that day, but that didn’t actually happen because, well, something else did.

We stopped in the office on our way back from the library to pick up Mr. Terupt’s mail as a favor to him. That’s when Luke made one of his famous observations. Ever since his summer science camp he was determined to notice everything—“like a detective,” he would say. I don’t think his brain ever stops working.

“Where’s Mrs. Williams?” Luke asked. “She’s always here for the morning announcements.”

“Maybe she’s in the bathroom,” Lexie said.

“Doing what? Powdering her nose?” Peter wisecracked.

Those two never stopped going back and forth. They reminded me of that old cartoon with the coyote and roadrunner. The roadrunner always outwitted the coyote, but the coyote never learned. Lexie was the roadrunner. After Peter made his wisecrack, she reached over when he wasn’t looking and knocked all the books out of his hands.