Mr. Terupt Falls Again (9 page)

“That was mean, Brandon,” Lisa said.

“But funny,” he said.

“What is that!” I yelled.

“Vodka,” Brandon said. “Teachers think they’re so smart, but they’re so easy to trick. All I do is put vodka in a water bottle and I can go all day without them even knowing what I’m really drinking. Fools!”

Not Teach, I thought. You couldn’t fool him. Thinking of Teach suddenly made me feel uneasy.

“Well, like, I can’t stay today,” I lied. “My mom is gonna be home early, so I need to get going.”

“What are you talking about!” Brandon demanded. He punched the sofa, got up, and started pacing. “You don’t need to go anywhere. It’s party time.”

He was mad all of a sudden. And I was scared. His temper reminded me of my dad’s.

“Let her go,” Lisa said.

Brandon spun to face Lisa, and I quickly made my move to leave.

“Shut up!” I heard him yelling.

I ran outside, jumped on my bike, and pedaled as fast as I could to get away from the hangout. Behind me, I heard Brandon’s car start up. I got off the road and hid. When I looked back, I saw the dust flying from his famous fishtail exit as he sped away in the other direction.

I
had a hard time thinking about anything other than that man in our fields. Grandma told me ignorance is bliss, but that didn’t stop me from worrying. I already knew too much. I saw how upset my family was that night in the kitchen. I saw how stressed my grandpa continued to be. And I saw my grandmother’s growing concern over my stressed-out grandfather. Grandpa didn’t have time for small talk at the dinner table anymore. He talked less and less, and seemed to be looking out the window more and more—looking for that man in our fields, I knew. There was silent talk between Mom and Grandma, their eyes darting back and forth across the table. And I was supposed to be ignorant? Not a chance.

I read
The Westing Game
like Mr. Terupt wanted, but I just didn’t have the mind energy to try and solve the mystery like he had hoped. And I couldn’t come up with something
for the new PowerPoint project. I wanted to research an answer about the man in our fields, but I didn’t know what question to ask in order to get a presentation out of that. So I was topicless, but I wasn’t the only one. Peter was without a topic too. Mr. Terupt pulled us aside one day and asked us what we thought about researching drugs.

“What do you mean, drugs?” I asked.

“I mean the bad ones,” Mr. Terupt said. “The ones you hear about in the news, and will hear about all too soon in school. The ones you and your friends might be asked to try someday.”

Peter and I were quiet. What did Mr. Terupt mean, “asked to try”? I wasn’t ever going to do any drugs. I didn’t even know what that meant, but I knew it was bad. And that was when I realized I didn’t know much of anything about drugs. I was beginning to understand why Mr. Terupt thought it could be a good topic.

“You want us to learn about some of the bad drugs, what they could do to us, and … what else?” I said.

“Well, first I just wanted to see what you thought about the topic,” Mr. Terupt said. “If you’re okay with it, I’ll let you get started. Then I’ll check back with you after you’ve done some work, and I’ll help you get more focused with your research.”

I looked at Peter and all he did was shrug, so I said, “Okay, we’ll do it.”

“Great,” Mr. Terupt said. “Snow Hill School doesn’t have a formal drug education program like D.A.R.E., so I know we’ll learn a lot from you guys. And it’s going to be really important.”

“Look, Danielle,” Peter said when Mr. Terupt walked away. “I’ll help you with the research because I’ll feel bad if I make you do all of it alone, but I can’t help you with the actual PowerPoint stuff.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“What if I tell Mr. Terupt?” I said. I wasn’t really going to be a tattletale, but I threatened it anyway.

Peter started to say something, but then stopped. He was thinking. Then he surprised me. “Go right ahead,” he said. “Tell him.”

Peter did just what he said he’d do. He helped gather information, and he did zero work on the computer. But I didn’t rat on him. I didn’t have to. Mr. Terupt knew something was up. He told me so.

Dear God
,

Ignorance might be bliss, but I’m not ignorant about that man in our fields. I’m even worrying about him, despite Grandma’s wishes. I pray you can help me get some answers, and I pray for Grandpa, who looks too stressed these days. Please provide comfort for my family. And God, I think you should check in on Peter. I’m not sure what he’s up to, but he might need some guidance. Amen
.

I
can tell you this. When you rescue a baby from a shoe box, it’s not something you forget. And when you go home every day to a house that’s silent, you have even more time to think about the baby you saved.

“Have you come up with anything yet?” Terupt asked me one day in the library. We were down there for our research projects, either getting books for the topic we were going to research or, in my case, looking at books to try and come up with a topic.

“No,” I said.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on!” Terupt said. “What’s on your mind? There must be something you’re thinking about these days.”

He knew exactly what that something was.

Once the baby was moved from the hospital to the center in New Haven, I started going to see him. The building was huge. It stretched out in all different directions, a lot like our school. It was a place for physical and occupational therapy and rehabilitation. I wasn’t exactly sure what all that meant, but the entire complex was called Center for Love and Care.

It was a downhill ride from our school into New Haven. Biking there was smooth sailing, but coming back wasn’t so easy. I didn’t let that stop me, though—I still went. I had to see him.

The nurses in the center named him Asher. I liked it. They picked the name because it meant
lucky
. I wasn’t sure how lucky the little guy really was, though. Officer Stoneley still had no leads about the mother or father. The investigation remained open, but not hopeful. I also knew having a mother and father didn’t automatically make everything perfect, either.

“What is it, Jeffrey?” Mr. Terupt asked. “Or should I say, who is it?”

“Asher,” I said. “I think about him all the time. There. Are you happy now?” I shoved the book I was holding back onto the shelf. “And there’s no way for me to research
him
, is there?”

“Don’t get upset, Jeffrey. I know he’s on your mind. He’s on all our minds,” Terupt said. “So how do you make him work for the project?”

“What?” I said. “I can’t. I just told you that.”

“Why not? I bet you can find lots to research based on
your observations and the questions you have. Trust me,” Terupt said. “Then you can include some personal anecdotes, which will really liven up your presentation. Anecdotes are little stories that go along with your talk—they’d be real stories from your actual visits.”

“But the weather’s beginning to make it harder for me to go to the center every day,” I said.

Terupt frowned. “Well, if getting there is the only hurdle, let’s think about what we can do.”

“I can help,” Anna said. She was on the other side of the shelf, also looking through books to find a topic. She must have heard us talking. We looked at her. “My mom gets out of her school when we do. She’d pick us up and give us a ride.”

That’s how I ended up doing my research project with Anna. It was that simple.

M
om picked us up in the car after school. Jeffrey told us how to get to the medical center. I couldn’t believe he’d been biking such a long way. But I wasn’t surprised. Mom walked in with me and Jeffrey, and he introduced us to Nurse Barry. Mr. Terupt had called ahead and explained our research project to her. It was agreed that Jeffrey would continue to spend time with Asher and that I would help out in other parts of the center.

Nurse Barry was very welcoming. She gave me and Mom the grand tour while Jeffrey rushed off to find Asher.

One area of the center, where Asher was staying, was dedicated to children (the pediatric wing), and an area on the other side of the building was for old people (the geriatric wing). Nurse Barry passed us off to Nurse Rose in the geriatric wing, and Mom and I spent the rest of our first visit
with her. We helped her with Barney, an elderly man who was recovering from a stroke. I didn’t know anything about rehabilitation or physical or occupational therapy, and before that afternoon I didn’t have any old people in my life (just Danielle’s grandparents, and they didn’t like me, so I didn’t count them), but I soon found out I liked all of the above. And so did my mom.

Barney struggled with partial paralysis, which means he had lost the use of one side of his body. That’s something that can happen as a result of a stroke. I included information on strokes in my presentation. I learned a lot about them, and heart attacks, too. Mom and I continued to work with Barney for several weeks. We helped him use his walker until he regained his strength and could walk on his own two feet again. It felt great!

“You really like helping all those old farts and senile geezers?” Peter joked after hearing me talk about my visits. He sounded like it was hard for him to believe.

“Yes,” I said. “I do.”

“Cool.” Peter didn’t say anything more. He could tell I was serious.

“And she’s great at it,” Jeffrey added. “I’ve seen her in action.”

I smiled. Jeffrey was right. I
was
great at it.

F
ADE IN: There is a knock at the door, and in walks MRS. WILLIAMS. We see her look at the floor and gingerly walk across it, obviously making sure she doesn’t slip and crash-land with her underwear showing like last year
.

MR. TERUPT walks over to his desk, once again stopping to hold on to it for a few seconds before sitting down
.