by Rob Buyea
The next day Mom surprised me by showing up to give me a ride home after school.
“What’re you doing here, Mom?”
“I thought you and I could spend the rest of the day together,” she said.
“What? But aren’t you working?”
“Not today,” Mom said.
I smiled, but like, there was a lot going on in my head. I was glad Mom was there, ’cause I didn’t know what I was going to do after school. I mean, I knew I wasn’t going back to the hangout, but like, I was confused, too. Why wasn’t Mom at work? Did she get fired or something?
We climbed into the car and headed home, but not the normal way. Instead, Mom took us down Old Woods Road. I held my breath.
“That’s where you’ve been hanging out, huh?” Mom said as we drove past the old house.
“Yeah,” I said.
“No more,” Mom said. She was laying down the law, and I was happy to accept it because I desperately wanted her back in my life. “You understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I think that was the first time I ever called Mom “ma’am.” I remember thinking I sounded like Danielle. But like, it was serious talk, and I was giving Mom a serious answer. I’m not stupid. I knew Mom had talked to Teach. How else would she have known? But the question was, how much did she know? I think what she found out was how little I knew, ’cause when we got home Mom explained everything to me. Like why she was working so much.
Normally, when two people get a divorce and children are involved, the parent not having custody of the kids pays child support. That means my dad would be sending money to my mom every month to help her pay expenses. But that wasn’t the case, so Mom was working long hours to make enough money for us. When I learned that, I started crying.
“I thought it was ’cause you didn’t care about me.” I rubbed my eyes. “I didn’t think you wanted to be with me.”
“Of course I want to be with you, Alexia. You’re all I have.”
Mom wasn’t getting any child support from Dad because they weren’t divorced. Mom had simply told him to get out, and that was it. She didn’t have the money to pay a lawyer for a divorce, plus Dad had threatened her. Told her that if she came looking for any of his money there’d be trouble. Mom started to cry.
I told Mom I wanted to help. “I want to work too,” I said. “I want to work at the restaurant with you. Then we can both make money and I can be with you in the afternoons.”
That’s how I got my first job—and my mom back.
“Mr. Terupt called,” Mom said.
It was after school. I was home with Mom, Dad, and Asher—what was beginning to feel like a family. Things were terrific! Nothing had happened at school, so I didn’t know why Terupt would be calling.
“Your father talked to him. Go ask him what it was about,” Mom said.
Dad was in the kitchen making dinner. We ate together every night now. Mom and Dad took turns doing the cooking, and I did the cleanup and dishes. Mom stayed out in the living room with Asher. I could hear her singing to him.
“Dad, you talked to Terupt?”
He stood up from the oven, where he was bent over checking the chicken. “Yes.” He turned around to wash his hands in the sink. “You and I are going down to the high school after dinner. Mr. Terupt will be there.”
“What for?”
“Mr. Terupt thinks … and your mother and I think, we ought to give it a try—”
“Give what a try?”
Dad dried his hands on the towel hanging from the refrigerator door. “Wrestling,” he said, looking at me.
Suddenly it was quiet. Dad was waiting for my reaction, and Mom wasn’t singing. Was she listening from the other room? “Terupt can’t wrestle,” I said.
“Actually, he said he used to do a lot of it, and that he can tell you’ll be good at it.”
“He said that? How can he tell?”
“I don’t know. But let’s at least try it out,” Dad said. “Mr. Terupt will be there tonight, helping the head coach, and he’s hoping to see you.”
So we ate dinner and I cleaned up, and then Dad and I drove over to the high school for my first wrestling practice.
We walked into the gym, where mats were spread all across the floor. There were kids running around on them, and some were already wrestling with one another. I recognized a few faces from school, but most of the kids I didn’t know.
“Hey, stud,” Terupt greeted us. He must have seen us walk in. “Mr. Mahar,” Terupt said, shaking my dad’s hand. “I did a lot of wrestling growing up, Jeffrey. You’re going to be a natural at it. Plus, it’s a great way to get your anger out without getting in trouble.” He smiled and jokingly smacked me on the back, but I knew he was being serious. He took me over to the mats.
“Were you good?” I asked him.
“I did all right,” Terupt said.
I knew better. There wasn’t anything Terupt did where he was only “all right.”
The coach blew his whistle and all the kids started jogging in the same direction around the gym. It was time to get started with the warm-up. I joined in. We did some rolls and flips, and then some stretching. Next we learned the double-leg takedown. Terupt came out on the mats and helped me go over the technique. We practiced for a while and then it was time to scrimmage. I was paired up with a kid from a different school.
The only training I’d had before that night was with Dad at home. When I was little Dad and I would horse around. He’d take me down and I’d get out from under him because I couldn’t stand how hot it was underneath him.
The coach blew his whistle for us to start and I moved toward my opponent. I kept my hands out so I could stop him if he tried to shoot for my legs. When I got close enough to him I grabbed his head and tried to pull him down. He fought to stand up just the way Terupt had told me he would. I let go of the kid’s head and tackled his legs when he straightened up.
That was when I found out Terupt was right. I was good at wrestling.
That was the beginning for me—the night I became a wrestler.
Mr. Terupt came back from the holiday break with another unbelievable project idea. I daresay this project was so special and so unbelievable that no other class anywhere has ever tried it. For us, however, it was typical Mr. Terupt.
We rounded up the chairs for a class meeting. The detective in me observed something very much out of the ordinary while we were doing this—Danielle hurried out of the classroom, not even bothering with the girls’ pass, which was already in use.
“Okay, gang,” Mr. Terupt said. “It’s time to get you started on the next major project.”
No one interrupted. We sat up straight and listened carefully. We knew that these were always hard-to-believe announcements.
“We’ve had some pretty awesome projects over the past year and a half, but this one might be the most important. I’m not going to pass the microphone around this time. I just want to share my idea with you.”
“What is it already?” I blurted out, knowing I didn’t need the microphone to speak up. Plus, I couldn’t take it any longer.
Mr. Terupt chuckled. “Okay, here it is. Ms. Newberry and I have decided to put you guys in charge of planning our wedding.”
Whoa! What? I knew weddings were a huge deal, but what exactly needed to be done to make one happen?
The classroom remained silent, so I think everyone was probably thinking the same thing. Finally, I spoke up. “Mr. Terupt, what does that mean? What do we need to do?”
“There’s a ton that needs to get accomplished,” Mr. Terupt answered. “This is a big task, but Ms. Newberry and I feel confident that you are up to the challenge. Having you guys involved will make it all the more special for us. Many people will tell you it’s the most important day of their lives. For Ms. Newberry and me, it will be.”
Mr. Terupt paused, letting his words sink in. He rose from his chair and walked to the easel. I noticed him wobbling a little. I didn�
��t like that. Another dizzy spell? I wondered.
Mr. Terupt continued, “Ms. Newberry and I have thought about all that needs to get done, and we thought about what roles would be good for some of you. I’ve made a list under this chart. If you don’t like what we have in mind, let me know, and we’ll discuss other options. Those of you without an assigned responsibility will need to think about what you might like to do, or where you might like to help, and then let me know.” He flipped the chart.
Wedding Date: June 25, one week after sixth-grade graduation
Where: Outside at Snow Hill School
Wedding Manager: LUKE
I didn’t even read the entire chart. I stopped once I got to my name. I’ve always wanted to earn the highest grades and be the best student, but that’s always been for me. Suddenly I was presented with a challenge that I had to do the best for someone else. For Mr. Terupt and Ms. Newberry. Counting blades of grass had been a tough project last year, but this one had it beat. I was excited.
QUESTIONS
—Where is Danielle?
—What does managing a wedding even mean?
—Is Mr. Terupt okay?
Detective Luke
“Class meeting,” Mr. Terupt announced. I was excited. We were back from our holiday break, and I just knew he had something special planned to kick off the new year. I started to move my chair over to the circle, but then stopped. I could feel it. The girls’ pass was already out, but I beelined to the bathroom anyway. Mr. Terupt didn’t say anything. I’m sure he sensed something was wrong, because everyone knew class meetings were my favorite.
Once in the bathroom I ducked inside one of the stalls. I fumbled with the button on my pants in a rush to get them down. When I finally got them off, I glanced at my underwear and saw the red stain. I started crying. It was terrible. This was my third time bleeding, my first in school. I was scared. I didn’t want anyone to know what was happening to me. I hadn’t told a soul. I sat on the toilet and buried my face in my hands and cried. But not for long, because my stall door was suddenly pushed open.
“Are you okay?”
It was Lexie. I didn’t even look up.
“Whoa! Like, you’ve totally got your period!” Lexie sounded thrilled. I took my hands away from my face and looked at her. Then her excitement vanished. Her head lowered and her shoulders slumped. “You’re so lucky,” she said to the floor.
“Lucky?!” I looked down at my underwear. “I’m bleeding. How is that lucky? What does this even mean?” I used my shirtsleeve to wipe my face.
“Every girl’s gonna get her period,” Lexie said, “but you’re the first. You are lucky. When you get your period it means, like, you’re a woman … not a little girl. Congratulations. I try all these things, pretendin’ to be grown up, but you really are.”
“Lexie, I don’t know what to do. I haven’t even told anyone.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll help you.”
“I’m not telling anyone!”
Lexie put her hands on her hips. “Like I said, every girl gets her period. You’re just the first in our class. Now c’mon.”
I finished in the stall and then followed Lexie back into the classroom. The class meeting was over and everyone was at their desks again, including Mr. Terupt. I wondered what Lexie’s plan was. I found out soon enough. She walked right up to Mr. Terupt.
“Teach, Danielle got her period. I’m gonna take her to the nurse.”
I couldn’t believe it. Lexie just came right out and told him. Thank God she whispered it. I was so embarrassed. Now it wasn’t just my down-there that felt warm, but my face did too. And then I saw that Mr. Terupt was blushing.
“Oh. Gee. Yeah. Good idea, Lexie,” he said. “You better go to the nurse. This isn’t exactly my area of expertise.”
Lexie brought me to Mrs. Barton, who took care of me. She gave me some new underwear and this thing called a maxi pad. Then Mrs. Barton taught me all about my period. I’m actually going to get it every month for something like the next forty years. Afterward, I felt better. She also called my mom and told her the news. That helped, too, because now I wouldn’t have to tell her. Mrs. Barton also said that I could ask to come and see her anytime during my period, because I guess there are some times that I might not feel so great. According to her, Mr. Terupt would understand. I told Mrs. Barton that he had said this wasn’t his area of expertise, and she laughed.
“Well, sweetie, this is no man’s area of expertise. In fact, there’s a lot about us women that men don’t understand. Ever.”
Things were better after that. I know I should feel good about what Lexie said. She’s not the best at handing out compliments, and I know she tried. Plus, she meant what she said. But the truth is—I’d still take her fake breasts over my bloody underwear any day.
Dear God,
According to Lexie, I’m a woman now. If that’s the case, I’m hoping I can find out about the man from our fields. You must think I’m growing up if you sent this period thing my way. What next? Hopefully not too much too fast. Amen.
Like, so there I am, in a bathroom stall, when I hear someone come walking in. Whatever. But then I hear her start crying in the stall next to me. Once I finished I checked to see who it was.
Danielle was sitting on that toilet seat with her pants yanked down and a big red bloodstain on her underwear. Her period! Like, I totally couldn’t believe it. Why did she have to be first? I’d been waiting on my period for over a year and still wasn’t getting it. Instead Danielle got hers, and I know it’s ’cause she’s bigger. Bigger girls can get theirs earlier. I know that ’cause I read it somewhere. But like, I didn’t say it out loud. I used to be mean like that, but not since last year. Danielle’s my friend. And she was upset.
Come to find out, Danielle didn’t know anything about periods and what they are or how they work. She was really scared. Like, she actually thought she was hurt or that something was wrong with her. I got her calmed down and took care of her—the whole time wishing it was me instead of her.
Someday. It has to happen someday.
FADE IN: It’s project time. Students are spread out all over the classroom, some working on the floor, some at their desks, some alone, and others with partners. JESSICA works at the classroom computer. We see MR. TERUPT walk over to JESSICA and pull up a chair to confer with her.
MR. TERUPT
So, what are you working on?
JESSICA
Well, I have two important pieces that I’m preparing to write. One is the wedding announcement, and the other is the wedding invitation. I’m going to look up examples of both to get ideas for how to structure mine.
MR. TERUPT
Sounds good. Your excellent planning is impressive, and it’s one of the many reasons you’re a strong writer. I can’t wait to see what you produce.
JESSICA smiles. MR. TERUPT begins to stand up.
JESSICA
Mr. Terupt … wait.
MR. TERUPT sits back down.
JESSICA
I know Ms. Newberry’s first name is Sara, and yours is William, but I was wondering if you knew her parents’ names. I’ve noticed that parent names appear on wedding invitations.
MR. TERUPT
A funny thing—names. I can’t stand it when people mispronounce Terupt. I hate it when they say “Tr-upt” instead of “Tare-upt.” And I really hate it when they make some stupid remark like “Tr-upt, as in interrupt.”
LUKE
(while passing by)
If they spent time with us last year, then they’d know it’s Terupt, as in dollar word.
MR. TERUPT and JESSICA laugh.
MR. TERUPT
I hope Ms. Newberry is prepared for her new last name.
JESSICA
She doesn’t want anyone else’s.
MR. TERUPT smiles big.
MR. TERUPT
Her mother’s name is Sandra and her father’s is Hank.
JESSICA
; (eyes on her journal, jotting down info)
And your parents … just in case.
JESSICA VO
It took no small amount of courage for me to ask that question. This was my chance to learn more about the man I didn’t completely know. More about my Sam Westing.
MR. TERUPT
My mother’s name was Natalie and my father’s was Owen.
Both JESSICA and MR. TERUPT are quiet, letting the word “was” hang in the air. MR. TERUPT rises and moves on to the next student.
JESSICA VO
No family. Mr. Terupt had no family in the hospital waiting room, or at his bedside. No family pictures surrounding his desk. His mom and dad were no longer alive. When were they taken from him? I wondered.
I was sitting at the computer next to Jessica one day during Writers’ Workshop, researching ideas for centerpieces on the guest tables, when she started asking Mr. Terupt about the names of Ms. Newberry’s parents. And I was right there when she asked him for the names of his parents. And he answered, “My mother’s name was Natalie and my father’s was Owen.”
I stayed quiet along with Jessica and Mr. Terupt after he spoke those words. Then he stood and moved on to somebody else. Jessica stared at her computer screen for a while before finally speaking. She knew I was eavesdropping, and I’m sure Mr. Terupt knew too. After all, he has always encouraged us to listen in on his nearby writing conferences. He says we can always learn from them.
“His parents are dead,” Jessica said matter-of-factly.
I nodded.
“That answers one of my questions about him. Now I know why he was all alone in the hospital. He’s got no one else.” Jessica and I both stared blankly at our computers while she talked, but she knew I was listening.
“I wonder how old he was when they died,” she said. “I can’t help it. I want to know more. That’s why I want to write the announcement and invitation. I want to know Mr. Terupt.”