No matter. Danielle and I decided Charlie would move into my house so he and Mom could have a place of their own, even though he had to drive to the farm each morning for his chores. Then I could make Charlie’s old room my room at the farm. If we were half sisters, then I’d need to spend half my time there. Danielle and I had it all figured out. I planned to record every bit of this special new chapter in our lives in the scrapbook Mr. Terupt had given me at the end of the year, using the camera Mom had passed down to me. Together, the scrapbook and camera were the perfect gift. I’d discovered a passion for photography. It was perfect for me because I liked being out of the frame, and I loved doing cool things with my pictures. The only problem remaining was that Charlie still hadn’t officially asked Mom to marry him. What was he waiting for?
As the summer passed by, my patience with Charlie started to wear thin. Being a farmer, Danielle seemed to have more of that than me, but I still convinced her to help out. Like those twins in the movie The Parent Trap, Danielle and I started scheming to help Charlie and Mom make it happen since they weren’t getting it done on their own. Danielle worked on Mom while I spent time with Charlie, which usually meant hanging out with the cows. Last summer I was more of an observer around the farm, but this year Charlie put me to work. He actually taught me how to milk a cow.
“You want to be careful you don’t get kicked when putting the machine on,” he told me, “so you should talk to the cow, gently touch her, let her know it’s okay. And then everything else between the two of you ought to be smooth as clockwork.” Charlie was good at talking to the animals, just not to Mom.
My favorite cow was Bessie. I named her. I felt like she understood me and even smiled at me when I came around. She was small—like me—but feisty when she wanted to be.
The farm was a big place, so if I ever felt like I wanted to be alone, I could do it. But after all those days with it being just Mom and me, it was nice to have so many other people around, especially at dinner. We often gathered as one big happy and complicated family. The food was always delicious, and the conversation was never slow. There was only one instant all summer when it got quiet around the table.
It was after we went school shopping. I was scooping some mashed potatoes when Danielle’s mother burst right out and told everybody at the table, “The girls went shopping today and bought everything from pants and shirts to their own bras.”
Silence. I felt my face growing redder than the beets we were eating. I couldn’t believe Mrs. Roberts felt the need to make an announcement like that. This was one of those times when I was thankful for my younger mother, who still knew enough to understand how awkward that was for Danielle and me.
“I was figurin’ I’d take the girls shopping,” Grandma Evelyn said.
Danielle and I shot each other mortified looks. Imagine Grandma Evelyn in Victoria’s Secret! I didn’t think so. Shopping with her would’ve been more embarrassing than going with Lexie. If Lexie thought we were picking out things that were so last year, then I bet Grandma Evelyn would’ve had us outfitted in clothes that were so last century.
“Maybe next time, Grandma,” Danielle said.
“Oh, stop being so nice, Danielle,” Grandpa Alfred said before turning to face his wife. “She doesn’t want to go old-lady shopping, Evelyn.”
“You hush up,” Grandma said.
“Maybe the girls can take you shopping,” Grandpa said. “I bet they could teach you a thing or two.”
“Now, that’s enough, Alfred!” Grandma snapped.
We burst out laughing at the two of them going back and forth, and that awkward moment was quickly forgotten. Grandpa Alfred certainly knew how to test Grandma’s patience, same as Charlie was testing mine. Were all men the same? When school started, I planned on asking Luke if he had the statistic on how many women who caught the bridal bouquet, like Mom did at Mr. Terupt’s wedding last summer, actually got married within the next year.
I had a good summer again this year. It was a busy one, but I wanted it that way. I needed to keep myself from going nuts thinking about my schedule for seventh grade. I was dying to find out when I’d have each subject, which teachers I’d have, and who’d be in my classes. Unfortunately, that information wasn’t expected to be delivered until four or five days before the start of school. That meant I had a lot of time for thinking.
My summer started with a two-week Boy Scout camp that was situated in the middle of the woods. I earned several more badges and sharpened my survival skills. I also saw firsthand how annoying and stubborn pine sap can be. I don’t know how he managed it, but one of the other scouts got that stuff all over his hands and clothes and in his hair during a game of capture the flag. The kid was still sticky four days later when it was time for us to go home—the poor sap!
Camp was fun, but the best part was when I figured out how to use the pocket compass Mr. Terupt gave me as a graduation present. It wasn’t one of those cheesy plastic compasses, but a good one with a silver cover on the top that latched closed. My favorite thing about the compass was what was on the inside of that cover. Mr. Terupt had a message engraved for me. It said: Luke, may you always find your way.
After the Boy Scout camp, I attended a science camp at the same place I went to last year. It was another great experience. This time instead of leaving with a bog and two lizards, I came home with my very own snake! This was something I’d always wanted. For some reason, Mom wasn’t thrilled, but in the end she allowed it. Stanley was a very handsome ball python. I placed his tank right on top of my dresser.
After science camp, we took a family vacation, a weeklong trip to our nation’s capital. This came as a surprise. It was my parents’ idea. They considered it a reward for my great job all through grade school, and also a perfect opportunity for me to expand my knowledge of America’s rich history before studying it in school.
The trip was absolutely amazing! Usually it’s math and science that captivate me, but I couldn’t soak up enough information about our country’s past and its great leaders. I felt inspired by their many accomplishments and famous words, even though I didn’t see myself ever joining their ranks.
Above all else, I’ll always remember our stop at Arlington National Cemetery. The immaculate state of the place, coupled with the precision and organization, was like nothing I’d ever seen. The ceremonial Changing of the Guard that occurs every half hour at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier was an unforgettable lesson on honor, loyalty, and respect. I felt all of that without anyone speaking a word. Silence can be powerful. Silence can say a lot. And the Changing of the Guard is a schedule that never falters.
Speaking of schedules, mine finally arrived three days before the start of seventh grade. This is what it looked like:
1st Period: Advanced Math
2nd Period: English Language Arts (ELA)
3rd Period: English Language Arts (ELA)
4th Period: Specials (PE or Art)
5th Period: Lunch
6th Period: Social Studies
7th Period: Study Hall
8th Period: Music/Home Ec/Computers
9th Period: Advanced Science
I was in all the advanced courses that were offered. (ELA was a double-period class, but there wasn’t an advanced section for it, or for social studies.) I studied that piece of paper for the next three days. It’s important to know what classes you have when, if you want to succeed in junior high school. I decided I had a good schedule. The only thing missing from it was Mr. Terupt.
LUKE’S SEVENTH-GRADE SURVIVAL GUIDE
TIP #1: Know your schedule.
Some things never change. Like the first day of school. You always need to look your best. I’d been trying on different outfits all week long. I can have a hard time making decisions when it comes to what to wear. Like, I look good in everything. Mom says I have too many clothes, but I don’t see that as the problem. How can a girl have too many clothes? Not possible. Anyways, it was the night before our first d
ay of junior high, and I still didn’t know what to wear, so I called Jessica for help.
“Hey, girl. Listen, like, what do you plan on wearing tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. I’ll figure it out in the morning,” she said.
“In the morning! Are you crazy?! Decisions like this need time. Like, this is a big deal. We’re not going to Teach’s class tomorrow, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” she said. “Don’t remind me.”
“Oh, don’t go getting all sappy on me. What I mean is, we’re going to be the newbies in a much bigger school. With the junior high and high school in the same building, there’ll be eighth graders and high schoolers walking the same halls as us! I’ve got to look good.”
“You always look good, Lex. You know that. But please, nothing crazy like your toilet-paper-stuffed shirt last year.”
“I know, I know. Chillax. I’ll let the bra do the work for me.”
“Well, you’ve got to put on more than that,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking about wearing.”
I ran through all my choices, carefully describing every outfit. When I finished, Jessica made the decision for me. I don’t know how she did it so easily, but she told me exactly what to wear: my new white jean shorts, which gave me plenty of leg to show off, my new pink top, and pink sandals. I chose the accessories, which included silver hoop earrings, a silver ring, and my anklet from Teach. I was all set. Or so I thought….
Dear Journal,
I have you concealed inside my first-period textbook. I know I should be paying attention, but it’s math, not English. This stuff is boring, especially without Luke or Mr. Terupt getting all superexcited about it. I don’t normally do these things. In fact, I’ve never done something like this; I’m not a rule breaker or a sneaky kid. Perhaps I’m entering a rebellious stage? No, I don’t think so. I’ll get back to paying attention in a minute—I promise. But first, I need to tell you what happened. There’s already been more drama on our first day of junior high school than there was at theater camp.
Lexie kept me on the phone for over an hour last night. She had to describe—in detail—every single one of her potential first-day-of-seventh-grade outfits. Finally, I picked something for her randomly. Near tragedy avoided. Until this morning…Tell you more later. Math teacher is getting suspicious.
Love,
Jessica
P.S. Already missing Mr. Terupt.
“Ahhhh!” This couldn’t be. Not today. I didn’t believe it. Staring back at me in the mirror was the hugest pimple I had ever seen. Right on my nose! On the first day of junior high school! Could it get any worse than that?!
It wasn’t one with a white head that I could easily pop and take care of, but a hard red lump with pressure underneath it and no way for it to escape. It hurt, and I wanted it gone. I needed it gone. So I leaned closer to the mirror and pinched it as hard as I could, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. My eyes watered and blurred to the point where I couldn’t even see myself in the glass, but after I wiped my tears away, I saw that I had only made things worse. The mass of ugliness on the tip of my nose was still there, and it looked angry. I didn’t know whether to blame my week of stressing over clothes, all that stupid restaurant grease, or puberty. I called Jessica in a panic.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” she said once I’d caught her up on my crisis.
“Yes, it is! It’s the ugliest thing ever!” I cried. “I can’t go to school.”
“Okay, calm down,” Jessica said. “Stop freaking out. We’ve got all sorts of makeup left over from camp. Bring what you have, and I’ll bring my stuff. We’ll get you fixed up in the bathroom before school starts. No one will ever know.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, sniffling.
“Yes,” Jessica promised. “My mom’s driving me to school. I’ll have her swing by your place on the way. We’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”
There was no lollygagging. We found the girls’ room before anyone else saw us. Jessica was armed with several bags of makeup. We had learned some nifty tricks at theater camp, and Jessica was good. She had called in reinforcements, as well—Anna and Danielle. The three of them spent the next ten minutes fussing over me. When they had finally finished, they took a step back.
“Well?” I asked them.
“You look like a ninth grader,” Jessica said.
I liked the sound of that. I smiled and posed like a model, sticking out my chest and jutting my hip forward. I was relieved and excited…until I looked in the mirror. Then I was devastated. I had myself fooled, thinking they could mask my monster pimple, but the makeup on top just called out more attention to it. The first day of school ranked among the most important events of the year, and mine was ruined before it even started. I wiped off the stupid makeup and left the bathroom. I moped down the hall with terrible posture, which I knew did nothing to help me look attractive, but what did it matter?
“Whoa! Lexie,” Peter said. “What is that on your nose, Mount Everest?”
“Be quiet, Peter,” Jessica said. “Now’s not the time.”
Just then, a group of cute older guys came walking by. I was used to Peter being an idiot. He didn’t bother me. But like, when these other boys said something, that was different. I should’ve kept my head down, but I wanted to see them.
“Look at that girl,” one said, and pointed. “Hey, Rudolph!” They thought that was hilarious. They started cracking up. “She’s got a tumor on her nose!” yelled their obvious leader.
Peter stepped forward. “Hey, big mouth,” he said, his voice cracking. “Shut up.”
“Oooh. Better watch out, Zack, her scrawny, squeaky boyfriend’s mad,” a member of the pack said to his leader.
“You better go back over there with your dweeby friends and fat and ugly girls,” Zack said.
“You better keep walking,” Jeffrey warned, taking a place next to Peter and joining the standoff.
The group of older boys stared at Peter and Jeffrey, who stared back, but nothing more happened. It was typical guy stuff. Macho men full of tough talk and no action. Having boys fight over me on the first day of school might’ve made my day better, but that didn’t happen, so I turned and walked off in the other direction. I was grateful that Peter and Jeffrey had stuck up for me—for all of us—but I didn’t know how to show that, not at the time.
“Lexie, where’re you going?” Jessica called. The first bell rang. “We’ve got to get to homeroom.”
I shrugged and kept walking. I knew where I was going. I hadn’t faked being sick since third grade, but I spent the day in the nurse’s office after giving her a made-up story about cramps.
Seventh grade was off to a terrible start.
After our showdown with Zack and his bunch of losers, I wanted to check on Lexie and tell her I was sorry, but when I turned back around, she was already halfway down the hall. I didn’t see her for the rest of the day. I did get to meet Principal Lee, though.
After third period, I needed to hit the bathroom. Then I hurried to my locker to dump off my math book. I didn’t want to carry that brick around any longer than I had to. (There should be a rule that textbooks can’t exceed a certain weight. That ancient piece of junk must’ve weighed ten pounds—and that was with its back cover missing!) I opened my locker, and papers and folders spilled out all over the floor. I hadn’t even been in school for a day yet, and already I had a mess. I scrambled to stuff everything back inside, then I slammed the door and took off down the hall.
Being late to class on day one is not the best way to make a first impression. I was in a full sprint. The bell was going to ring any second, but I was determined to make it. I went flying around the corner…and came to an abrupt and painful stop. What is it with principals and terrible timing? Or is it just my rotten luck? The good news is, I didn’t plow this guy to the ground like I had Mrs. Williams, our old principal. The bad news is, what happened was way worse. I only had a second to react, and
in that instant I managed to spring up on my toes and turn sideways in a desperate maneuver to avert catastrophe. I avoided every part of Principal Lee except his elbow. I bumped that with my hip and sent the hot cup of coffee he was holding splashing all over the front of him—his face, his shirt, and even the crotch of his pants.
“Oh—!” The next word slipped out of my mouth same as my feet did coming around the corner. I wasn’t doing myself any favors.
Fortunately, Principal Lee didn’t hear what I’d said because he let a few choice words of his own fly at the same time. Then he started dancing a jig, hopping up and down and tugging at his clothes where the coffee was burning him. Like a superhero, he ripped his dress shirt open to get it off his skin. I stood there frozen in fear and disbelief while Principal Lee stood with his hairy belly hanging out, staring daggers at me. It’s safe to say he was a little hot after our run-in. I spent the next fifteen minutes in his office, cowering in my chair as he read me the riot act.
“I’m going to be watching you, Mr. Jacobs. And if you slip up even a little bit, I’m going to be all over you like white on rice.”
Despite my best efforts, I made it to English Language Arts more than a little late on that first day. I arrived just in time to hear Mrs. Reeder talking about words. Detention was my word. I had just received three of them.
Dear Journal,
I’ve been dying to get back to you all day. I haven’t had a chance until now, fourth- and fifth-period English Language Arts—ELA, as the teacher calls it—with Mrs. Reeder. Isn’t that a lovely name for an English teacher? Mrs. Reeder is crazy about books, and words.
Saving Mr. Terupt Page 3