Mr. Terupt Falls Again (7 page)

“Yes, ma’am.” I didn’t like her answer one bit, but I didn’t talk back. I knew not to push Grandma’s buttons. She wasn’t going to bend—not today, anyway. I dropped my bag and got down on my hands and knees and started pulling some weeds. I yanked at the green shoots hard enough that my hands started to burn.

“Danielle,” Grandma said after some silent weeding. “How’s that baby doing?”

“I’m not sure.”

“We best pray for him tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And Jeffrey too,” Grandma said.

I nodded.

Dear God
,

Jeffrey carried a baby into our classroom this morning. A baby that was thrown away. Dropped in the weeds and left there to die. Mr. Terupt did all he could to help, then the ambulance came and took the baby away. Please take care of him. Don’t let him die. Jeffrey was his savior, but I’m sure he needs your comfort now, too
.

God, I’m not sure why such terrible things need to happen in this world. And at this point, I don’t think I’ll ever have an answer. But I do know that whoever threw a little baby away like that, must also really need your help. So I want to pray for those people, too. Please help them find the right path. Amen
.

Oh, and one last thing. I’d still like it if you could help me find out the truth about that man who was in our fields this summer, but don’t tell Grandma. Thank you. Amen
.

T
erupt offered to take me to the hospital with him and Ms. Newberry the next day after school. He was going to check on the baby. Everyone wanted to know how he was doing, and I think Terupt sensed that I especially wanted to know. I couldn’t think about anything else. But I had to say “No thanks” to his offer. Hospitals still brought back too many bad memories for me, and I just knew that baby would have more tubes and machines hooked up to him than I could handle. I couldn’t do it.

After visiting, Terupt reported to our class that the baby was in intensive care. It’s a good thing I didn’t go with him, because intensive care means lots of tubes and machines. The baby was dehydrated to the point that his kidneys were having problems. He needed special monitoring, so it wasn’t a good time for visitors anyway.

Terupt kept in touch with the hospital so he could update us on the baby. I hated to think I was getting good at this hoping-for-people-in-hospitals-to-recover-and-not-die thing, but I sure felt like I’d done a lot of it. I didn’t stop doing it either. I hoped and hoped for that baby, and by the end of the month, things looked better for him. He had gained some weight, which I’d been told was a good sign for a newborn. Terupt told us that it looked like they’d be moving him to a local medical center soon. He said the doctors thought he’d be at the medical center while the search for his parents continued. The police still hadn’t found his mom and dad, and if that didn’t change, Terupt told us the baby might go up for adoption.

That was good news, but scary, too. Once I heard the word
adoption
, I was struck by an urgent need to see him.

I
was the first one to submit a formal
Westing Game
solution. I remember the morning I figured it out. I was up early reading what Mr. Terupt had assigned when all of a sudden some of the author’s clues came together for me, and bam! I had it! I ran into Mom and Dad’s bedroom to celebrate.

“I’ve got it! I’ve got it! I’ve solved it!” I danced and jumped around while they burrowed under the covers, trying to sleep.

“Good. Great, Luke,” Dad said from under the blankets.

“We’re proud of you, honey,” Mom said, peeking out at me.

“Now let us sleep some more,” Dad added. He moaned and turned over.

I sat down at the kitchen table and wrote up my conclusion. I stuffed it in an envelope, sealed it, and signed my name across the back.

Detective Luke

I couldn’t wait to get to school that morning. I ran into our classroom and handed Mr. Terupt the envelope. Everyone was shocked.

“You’ve solved it already?” Mr. Terupt said, standing up from his chair, his eyes bugged out and eyebrows raised. He still hadn’t turned in a solution. Suddenly he wobbled a bit. He grabbed his desk and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Stood up too fast,” he said, after regaining his balance. Then he moved on like nothing had happened. “I’m impressed, especially since I’m not even close to a solution,” Mr. Terupt admitted. “But we still don’t know if you’re right.”

“Oh, I’m right,” I said.

“I only know of one person who’s ever cracked this case before the author reveals the truth, so if you’re right, you’ll join special company,” Mr. Terupt said.

“I’m right,” I said.

I
read
The Westing Game
but never handed in a solution. It was part of my plan to have Mr. T fail me. But I wanted to read the book because I didn’t want to miss out. I liked it, a lot, but it’s not the story I remember most. It’s the drama around the book that’s stuck with me, like the day Mr. T turned in his solution.

Mr. T loved to scare the snot out of us whenever we were busy doing something. One time we were taking a timed test and he yelled out “TIME!” after the forty-five minutes were up. A few of us were so rattled we accidentally threw our pencils. Ben banged his legs on the underside of his desk, he jumped so bad. Mr. T laughed his head off, and we laughed with him. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he made his
Westing Game
announcement during silent reading time.

It was so quiet you’d definitely know where a fart came
from if someone were to let one go, unless, of course, you were the evil Lexie. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Mr. T shouted, “THAT’S IT!” He successfully scared the snot out of us again.

“You might as well call it quits,” he announced. “I’ve got my solution right here and there’s no way I’m going to lose. I’ve solved it.”

“Too bad Luke’s already turned his in,” I said. “Looks like you’ll have to settle for second place.”

Luke didn’t say anything, but Mr. T made a grand production out of adding his envelope to the submission box. He flew it up and down like an airplane, sound effects included, before spinning around and slam-dunking it home.

We were supposed to go back to silent reading. I tried, but it was hard to settle down after Mr. T got us riled up like that. He made everything loads of fun.

F
ADE IN: LS of everyone sitting in their chairs. They’ve been arranged in a semicircle facing the front of the room, making it a stage area. Written on the board are the words
Solution Opening Ceremony
.
MR. TERUPT carries a shoe box in his hands along with his copy of
The Westing Game
.
The box holds our solutions
.

CUT TO: Days earlier in the classroom, during silent reading time. LUKE kneels next to JESSICA in a corner of the room where she’s working. THEY talk in hushed voices
.

LUKE looks down at the floor
.

LUKE looks up and meets JESSICA’s smile
.

CUT TO: Solution Opening Ceremony
.

Students nod, books at the ready.

CUT TO: MR. TERUPT reading aloud the end of
The Westing Game
and the class following along in their copies. Signs of shock and disbelief are seen throughout the students. We see mouths agape and heads shaking. PETER smacks his forehead
.

CUT TO: MEDIUM SHOT (MS) of MR. TERUPT. He starts pulling envelope after envelope from the box and reading the answers out loud. Then he gets to Luke’s and holds it up for the class to see. CLOSE-UP (CU) of the envelope. DETECTIVE LUKE is scrawled across the seal. MR. TERUPT opens it and reads LUKE’s solution aloud
.

LUKE shrugs. Then he glances at JESSICA, who’s trying to be sneaky by not looking back at him
.

CUT TO: CU of the next envelope. We see MR. TERUPT’s name. He opens it and reads his solution to a silent audience
.