Mr. Terupt Falls Again (6 page)

There were several other police cars already on the scene when Stoneley and I got there. I wasn’t expecting that, or the yellow tape that had the area marked off. This was a real investigation. A woman was taking pictures and another man and woman were inspecting the shoe box and blanket. I showed those to Stoneley. Everything was still there.

Officer Stoneley didn’t say anything, but his stone face turned soft. I could see that even behind his dark sunglasses. His body language told how terrible he felt. He grimaced and shook his head. And his shoulders slumped as he let out a sigh.

We stood there side by side for a minute, not saying anything. That was when I started thinking about Michael. Mom and Dad did everything in their power to save my brother. And today I had found a baby that somebody just threw away. How could anyone do that?

“All right,” Stoneley said. “That’s it. Let’s go.”

We threw my bike in the trunk of his car and he gave me a ride back to school.

“Okay, Jeffrey,” Stoneley said as we pulled up to the front doors, “we’re all set.”

“Will you find his parents?” I asked, still staring out the front windshield like Stoneley.

“Hard to say,” he answered. “We’ll try.” Then there was another one of those silent moments before he took off his sunglasses and looked at me. “You did good today, kid.”

That was nice of him to say, but it didn’t feel like it.

M
rs. Williams walked over to Mr. T and asked him if he was okay. He told her he’d let her know if he needed anything.

“What about them?” she asked, meaning us. She looked at our class with a worried face. We weren’t just any kids to her, and you could tell she really felt bad.

“We’re fine, Mrs. Williams,” Lexie said.

Mrs. Williams smiled and nodded.

“I’ll talk to them,” Mr. T told her.

“I’ll put a letter together,” she said.

He nodded. The letter was for us to take home to our parents, so they could be made aware of the crazy day we’d had. It wasn’t the first letter with shocking news to come from our classroom. My parents probably wouldn’t have time for this one either.

“Let’s talk, gang,” Mr. T said, once it was just us in the classroom. He sat on his desk. “I’m sorry I was so gruff when I answered your question, Luke. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“But it’s the truth,” Luke said. “We can handle the truth.”

Mr. T sighed. “Yes, unfortunately, I think what I said probably is the truth. But let’s keep in mind we don’t know the whole story.” He stood and walked closer to us. “This is a situation that most adults would prefer to keep from children, because it’s not something you need to know or worry about at your age. But there was no protecting you from it today. The world can be a harsh place and you witnessed that cold reality firsthand. You’ve been forced to grow up today in ways that aren’t fair to you. You had to do that last year, too.”

I looked at Mr. T’s dented head and saw myself throwing that snowball again.

“There’s no denying it,” Mr. T went on, “you’re a special group. I wish I could tell you why all this has happened, but I can’t. Someday it might make some sense. I don’t know.”

If I was so grown up because of all this, I wondered, why couldn’t I find the courage to tell my father I didn’t want to go to that boarding school?

L
ike, it was a no-brainer. As soon as school was over, I jumped on my bike and pedaled to the Old Woods hangout. I’d been going there pretty regularly. I needed to talk to somebody about my day, and I knew there wouldn’t be anyone at home.

I walked in and found Reena and Lisa busy doing homework—the usual. They were always doing homework, ever since school started. They were both taking accelerated classes. Brandon wasn’t around because he was at football practice, but he would show up later to give the girls a ride.

“Done!” Reena said, slamming down her pen. She pulled out a cigarette and lit up. Then she passed the lighter to Lisa. I didn’t want to smoke, so I jumped right in telling my story, hoping they wouldn’t make me take a puff.

“You guys are never gonna believe what happened today!” I said.

“Oh, yeah, ’cause kindergarten is so unbelievable,” Reena said. “Sit down, Little Brat. You need to chill. A smoke will take that edge off.”

My plan didn’t work. I sat down ’cause Reena told me to, and she sounded serious. She scared me when she grabbed my arm that time, so like, I didn’t mess with her. She passed me a cigarette and lit it for me. I took a puff and coughed. Even though I’d smoked with them a few times, I still wasn’t that good at it, and I still didn’t like it all that much. It tasted awful. But Reena and Lisa said that everyone smoked because it helped you chill. Apparently, high school was full of stress.

“You’re gonna need this once you join the big girls. Trust me,” Reena said.

“I like your lipstick,” Lisa said. I was wearing the dark maroon color that she had given me. I smiled. “You look grown up.”

I liked Lisa. She was nice and beautiful, and she had a boyfriend. I wanted to be like her.

“Yeah, the boys were probably all over you today, huh,” Reena teased. “You cute little thing.”

I didn’t know how much I liked Reena. She was nice and mean at the same time.

“So what’s up with your parents, Lexie? They don’t care if you wear lipstick and hang out here?” Reena wanted to know.

I shrugged. “Mom threw Dad out of the house a while ago, so he’s out of the picture,” I answered. I took another puff. “And Mom’s usually asleep when I leave for school in the morning, and she doesn’t get home from work until late.”

“You’re on your own a lot, then,” Reena said. “That’s pretty grown up for a kindergartner.”

“I’m not in kindergarten! I’m in sixth grade!” I yelled.

“Simmer down,” Reena said. Then she laughed. “You need to chill.”

I must have been chill to spill my guts to them like that. Maybe the cigarettes were working? Not! I blurted out everything because I was sick of Reena’s mouth and I was trying to impress them.

“What grade are you guys in?” I asked.

“Tenth,” Lisa said, “except Brandon. He’s a junior. But don’t start worrying about us. Tell us what happened today.”

I told my story. They sat and listened and didn’t say anything. For once, Reena didn’t open her smart mouth. Not until I was done, at least.

“That’s the most messed-up story I’ve ever heard,” Reena said.

“Sad,” Lisa said softly, shaking her head.

“C’mon, let’s blow this joint,” Brandon said. I didn’t even know he was there. He must have just showed up.

Lisa got to her feet in a flash and took Brandon’s arm. “Bye, Lexie.”

“See ya, Little Brat,” Reena said.

I left right after them. Brandon gave me a thumbs-up as they pulled away in his black car. I watched them leave. His tires spit gravel everywhere when he stomped on the gas and did a nasty fishtail out of the driveway onto Old Woods Road. The car wasn’t anything special, but it got them where they were going, and it definitely gave Brandon a power trip.

R
escuing a baby. Who’s ever heard of that? Maybe of rescuing an animal, but not a baby. There was a time this summer when Charlie and I had to rescue one of our calves. It was a hot, sunny day. We were on our way to the barn to get ready for the evening milking when we heard it, just like Jeffrey said he heard the crying—we heard the bleating. The calf’s cries for help came from the pasture. Charlie and I looked and saw the vultures circling out in the distance. They were closing in. We ran across the fields (the same fields some stranger had walked over). When we came over the knoll, we found our newest calf stuck in a mudhole. He must have been trying to cool off or get a drink. Now he couldn’t get out, and the more he fought, the deeper he sank. He was chest deep, and completely exhausted.

“We need the truck,” Charlie said. “You stay here while I
go get it; otherwise those vultures will have his eyes pecked out before I get back.”

I tried to comfort the calf while Charlie was away, same as Jeffrey had tried to soothe the baby. It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t feel like it was working, but it was all I could do. When Charlie came back, he tied some rope to the rear of his truck. Then he laid some boards across the mud so he could walk out to the calf. He tied the other end of the rope around the little guy’s body. The boards also gave the calf something solid to walk on. Then Charlie told me to get in the truck and ease it forward. One of the things you get to do on farms is drive before you get a license. I had driven around the lots before, but I was nervous behind the wheel this time. I let off the pedal gently and cringed when I heard the calf bellowing behind me. But Charlie kept barking words of encouragement, so I inched forward little by little, and eventually we freed him. Back at the barn, we cleaned the calf and got him hydrated, just like the paramedics did with that baby.

We saved him. I can remember how I felt that afternoon—scared, nervous, worried, relieved. That calf, Rupert we named him, is my favorite. He made it. I hope that baby makes it. I can only imagine how Jeffrey must feel.

I told Grandma about the baby when I got home. I ended up telling everyone at dinner, but Grandma was the first person I saw when I got off the bus that day. And that story wasn’t the sort of thing I could keep to myself. I found Grandma on her hands and knees in the garden. She kept pulling weeds while I got all the words out. Then she sat up
and wiped the sweat from her brow with her already dirty handkerchief. She’d been working all day. She and Grandpa never slowed down.

“Danielle, I don’t recall school bein’ so unbelievable when I was there. Course, not much about your school is like mine was, but still, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of children havin’ the kind of days you seem to have in that room with Mr. Terupt.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, this isn’t exactly the sort of stuff that happens in school—teachers almost dying and abandoned babies being rescued. Heck, I don’t remember much of anything from my schooling days, ’cept gettin’ rapped on the knuckles with a ruler when I didn’t do as I was told. I got to think the good Lord has something planned out for you kids in that classroom, ’cause these aren’t simple things you’re experiencin’.”

Mr. Terupt had said something similar. We’d been forced to grow up, and we were certainly a special group because of all we had gone through together. I figured if I could handle the truth about a little baby after watching him almost die, then I ought to be able to know about the man who walked across our fields. I told Grandma as much.

“Danielle, sometimes ignorance is bliss. Do you know what that means?”

“No, ma’am.”

“It means you get away without needing to worry so much when you don’t know or understand all the details about something. And that’s good, ’cause you don’t need to be worrying all the time. The adults can do that.”

“If I’m experiencing such grown-up things in school, I think I ought to be able to deal with them at home.” My voice rose more than I meant it to. “And besides,” I added, “I’m already worrying about it.”

“Then stop,” Grandma demanded, the gentleness in her voice gone. She threw her weeds down and stood up. “There’s nothing you can do about it if I do tell ya, so I don’t see any point in tellin’ ya. And that’s the end of it.”