Lord help us if that ever happened.
I was hoping to sit with Anna during our assembly, but we didn’t find each other in time. It ended up being just me and Peter and Luke. Even after we sat down, I kept looking around, trying to find her in the bleachers. She was good at making herself invisible. It wasn’t until Peter opened his big mouth and had everyone staring our way that I found her. I smiled, and she gave me a small wave in return.
I didn’t hear much of what was said after that because I spent the rest of the assembly stealing glances at her. She caught me once. In my daydreams I always managed to ask her out, but I couldn’t seem to find the courage to do it for real. I was afraid she might not give me the answer I wanted.
“Did you hear me?” Peter said, nailing me in the ribs with his elbow.
“What?”
“I’m running for president, and you and Luke are in charge of my campaign.”
“What? I don’t think so.” We were on our feet and exiting the gym. I was searching for Anna so that we could at least walk out together, but thanks to Peter I’d lost sight of her again. I wanted to punch him. I was on my toes scanning the crowd.
“Who’re you looking for?” Peter asked.
“No one,” I said, putting my heels back on the ground.
“Anna?”
“No. Shut up.”
“Oh, I see how it is. You can’t help me become president because you’re too busy being a lover boy.”
Sometimes Peter didn’t know when to stop. “I said shut up.” I slugged him in the arm, hard enough that he knew I was done fooling around. Hard enough that he didn’t exactly appreciate being punched like that.
If it weren’t for good timing and Luke, things might’ve gotten out of hand between the two of us. If it weren’t for Luke, things might’ve gotten out of hand between Peter and Lexie. And if it weren’t for Luke, I wouldn’t have been given the chance to hang out with Anna again like I did for our PowerPoint project last year. Boy, I loved that kid and his brain. We needed him around more.
Besides not getting to see my friends in school this year, the other thing I’d been deprived of up to this point was any sort of project to work on. That was a Mr. Terupt specialty. I needed to get him over here to show these junior high teachers how it was done. But as I listened to Mr. Smith talk to us about student government, I began to think my opportunity for a project had finally arrived. The only issue I saw was that there was no way I could run for office. Mr. Smith could tell us it wasn’t a popularity contest until he was blue in the face—everyone knew that wasn’t the truth.
Only when we were leaving the gym and Peter mentioned wanting to run for president did it start to come together. Peter was a popular kid. This could work. I started racking my brain, trying to figure out how to make this one of those Mr. Terupt sort of projects. I wasn’t paying any attention to Peter or Jeffrey, but something weird was going on that had them about ready to choke each other.
“There they are,” I said.
“Who?” they asked.
“The girls.” I pointed. Just in time, I thought. Thankfully, those two relaxed.
“I’m running for president,” Lexie said, marching up to us. “The girls are in charge of my campaign. Do you losers want to help?”
I saw Anna smile at Jeffrey.
“Sure,” I said.
“What?!” Peter cried. “No. I’m running for president and these guys are managing my campaign.”
“You’re running against me?” Lexie said, sounding surprised. “You don’t stand a chance.”
“We’ll see about that. You best hope you don’t have another mountain on your nose when it’s time for your speech,” Peter said.
“Okay, squeaky,” Lexie retaliated.
Now I was getting really excited. This felt just like old times. And then it hit me. It could be exactly like old times. “Hey, I’ve got a great idea,” I said. This was the first time I’d been fired up about school all year.
“What?” Peter and Lexie snapped.
“We should make Mr. Terupt’s classroom our campaign headquarters.”
They all just looked at me.
“What? This is a major project, and his classroom is project central,” I said.
“But we’re on opposite sides!” Peter protested.
“So we’ll have two camps set up in there.”
“But like, we don’t even know if he’ll be okay with it,” Lexie said. “Or if he’ll even be there.”
“We all know he’d love to see us. And he’ll be there.”
“I miss him,” Jessica said.
“Me too,” Anna agreed.
“We already know we can walk there after school,” I said, “at least, while the weather is nice.”
“Our campaigns will work side by side,” Jessica said.
“Just like old times,” I added.
Jessica smiled at me, the same way Anna had smiled at Jeffrey.
“It’s settled, then,” Peter declared. “We’ll go to T’s classroom tomorrow after school and tell him our plan. Great idea, Lukester. That’s why you’re running my campaign. I’m sure to win.”
Truthfully, I didn’t care about winning. I wasn’t convinced Peter or Lexie would make a good president. I was just pumped about being back with the gang and working on a project together—in Mr. Terupt’s classroom.
LUKE’S SEVENTH-GRADE SURVIVAL GUIDE
TIP #5: Never stop thinking. No matter how dark the times, a great idea can give you a hopeful light.
Dear Journal,
Luke’s idea was perfect—some things never change. I was so excited about it that I had to tell Mom. Somehow I managed to wait until we were seated at dinner, which was when I knew I’d have her undivided attention.
“Luke came up with this genius idea today,” I said.
“Luke again, huh?”
“Mom, stop it. I’m talking about his idea, not him.”
She couldn’t resist. She started in, repeating things I’d said in recent weeks, and doing it in this high-pitched voice of a girl dizzy in love. “Oh, I haven’t seen Luke. I wonder how he’s doing?”
“Mom!” I banged my hands on the table, rattling our dinnerware.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” Mom said. “Just having a little fun. Tell me about this idea of Luke’s that you’re so excited about.”
I filled her in on everything. I told her about missing having everyone together in the same class and missing Mr. Terupt, the student government elections, and our campaigns.
“And so you’re hoping to visit Mr. Terupt once or twice a week after school,” Mom said, “to work on your campaigns in his classroom?”
“Yes! Told you his idea was brilliant.”
“It reminds me of the book I’m reading, Tuesdays with Morrie.”
“Why?”
“Well, it’s a story about a guy who visits his old teacher, Morrie, once a week—on Tuesdays.”
“Why does he visit him?” I asked.
“Because he’s dying.”
“Mom, that’s not the same! That’s terrible!” She should have known that was a sensitive topic after everything we’d been through with Mr. Terupt.
She took a sip of water. “I know—sorry. You’re right. It’s not the same. It’s just that the mention of Mr. Terupt makes me think about books. He had a way of making the stories you were reading come to life in meaningful ways, through real connections. He always knew what to put in your hands. I miss that.”
“Me too,” I said, “which is why this is going to be great. It’s going to be just like old times.”
“I’m sure it will be,” Mom said.
Eager for tomorrow,
Jessica
P.S. Still no invitation. I’m scared to ask Lexie if she got one. Would she tell me if she did?
P.P.S. Maybe I do have a thing for Luke, but don’t tell.
The junior high got out forty-five minutes before Snow Hill School did, so we arrived a bit early.
It’s hard to wait when you’re excited about something, and we were psyched to see Mr. T. Since we had time to kill, we decided to stop in and visit Mrs. Williams. That was my idea, and it was a good one because she was very happy to see us.
“Oh my goodness, if it isn’t my favorite kids!” She sprang from her chair and hurried around her desk to give us hugs. “Come in. Come in.”
We crowded into her space.
“Mrs. Williams,” Lexie exclaimed, “I love your top! It looks great with those pants. And your heels are to die for.”
Leave it to Lexie to comment on clothes, but even I had noticed Mrs. Williams’s new look. Her fun shirt and pants were a big change from her old business-skirt-and-jacket getup.
“Well, thank you, Lexie,” Mrs. Williams said. “I decided to do some school shopping this year and mix it up a bit. I probably should’ve tried wearing slacks when you guys were around here.”
Mrs. Williams winked at me, and everyone started laughing. Who could ever forget her crash-landing in our classroom, falling over, and exposing her twisted underwear? And then there was my daredevil cart ride. That also might’ve ended better for her if she’d been wearing pants.
“Tell me, Peter, is my office better than Principal Lee’s?” Mrs. Williams asked.
“Way better,” I said.
“You mean to say you’ve already been in his?!” she cried. “I was only joking.”
“Peter doesn’t waste any time,” Jeffrey said.
Mrs. Williams shook her head and chuckled. “I guess some things never change.” She walked around her desk and sat in her chair. “So how is seventh grade?” she asked. “Is it so bad that you’re back here already?”
“We’re here for a project,” Luke said.
“A project?”
“Yes,” everyone answered together.
We took turns telling Mrs. Williams all about school and our plans for a campaign headquarters. She listened and didn’t object to any of it. She’d always had faith in us. I realized then that I’d been missing her, too.
Once dismissal was over, she escorted us to Mr. T’s classroom. We hid in the hall while she rapped on his door. “Knock, knock,” she said. “I have a surprise for you.”
Mrs. Williams barely had time to get those words out of her mouth before we rushed into his room. The girls—and Luke—mobbed him with hugs. I knew from experience, hugs with Mr. T ranked among the best feelings in the world, but Jeffrey and I stayed back. We didn’t want to overwhelm the poor guy.
“Wow! This is a surprise! What’re you guys doing here?” Mr. T said.
“We’re taking over your classroom,” I told him.
“Really?” He looked at Mrs. Williams.
“I’ll come back and check in on you later,” she said. “Have fun.”
We were so excited that we tried telling T all about Luke’s idea and our hopeful plan in a single breath. After he got us to slow down, we were finally able to explain everything to him so that he understood.
“This sounds awesome!” he said. “You know, I’ve been thinking about you guys. Wondering how you were doing. I’m so proud of you. All of you. I knew you didn’t need me. You’ve stuck together and come up with this incredible project idea all on your own. And the best part is, I get to have you working on it here.”
That was it. We got started. And Luke was right. It felt just like old times, especially after I spotted the new toys T had in his room. I couldn’t resist trying one out.
Dear Journal,
After we got past all our hugs and pleasantries and caught our breath and explained everything to him, Mr. Terupt told us how proud we made him.
His praise felt wonderful, like it always had, but I wasn’t so sure we didn’t need him anymore. Maybe we didn’t on a daily basis, but we needed him in our lives. I liked knowing he was still there for us.
Once we got started on the campaigns, Mr. Terupt approached our project time the same as he did when we were his students—he made the rounds, checking in with each of us. I was busy trying to craft Lexie’s speech when he came over to visit with me.
“I see you’re carrying your journal around instead of a book,” he said.
“Yes. I like my journal quite a lot. Thanks again.” I rubbed my hand over your Moroccan cover. “Our English teacher, Mrs. Reeder, has us thinking carefully about words. I like to keep it with me in case I end up with a few to write down.”
Mr. Terupt smiled. “I’m sure you will,” he said. “What’re you reading these days?”
“In class we’ve been reading ghost stories and stuff like that, not my favorite. But on my own I just finished Tuck Everlasting.”
“That’s a good one,” he said. “It’s full of beautiful language.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “but did you think it was a happy ending?”
“Sometimes you have to find the happiness in situations, Jessica. It all depends on how you look at things.”
I was quiet after he spoke those words. He’d given me much to ponder—just like old times. I found myself wishing there was a way I could make my time with him become everlasting. Being back around him and discussing literature felt wonderful. I fantasized about Luke whipping together a magical concoction to make my daydreams a reality.
“How about you?” I said. “What’re you reading?”
He paused, almost as if he didn’t know what to tell me at first, like he had to think about it. “Oh, Mrs. Terupt and I are reading a few different nonfiction books together. The sort of stuff young married couples read to learn what to expect when starting their lives together.”
Peter interrupted our book talk at that point, squawking from across the room. “Hey, T! Where is the missus, anyway?” He must’ve heard Mr. Terupt mention his wife.
“She didn’t make it to school today. She was sick this morning.”
“She caught that stomach bug, huh?” Peter said. “You better not be sucking face with her, then.”
“ ‘Sucking face,’ Peter?! Seriously?” Lexie cried.
“What do you want me to say?”
“How about ‘kissing’ or ‘smooching’? Anything’s better than ‘sucking face.’ You make it sound so disgusting.”
I remembered when Bud Caldwell referred to it as “busting slob” in the story Bud, Not Buddy. I thought that sounded even worse than “sucking face,” but I wasn’t about to get involved in a debate on kissing, not with those two.
Mr. Terupt walked away chuckling and shaking his head. I’m sure it was beginning to feel like old times to him, too. Too bad we didn’t remember to watch out for what good old times always entailed when it came to Peter.
Elated to be back with Mr. Terupt,
Jessica
P.S. I didn’t tell Mr. Terupt about the important writing I did over the summer. I hope to tell him about that after the invitation arrives.
P.P.S. I hope Mrs. Terupt feels better soon so we can see her, too.
It didn’t take any time at all for that magical feeling to come back. There was no place like Mr. Terupt’s classroom. It was like going home. We were stationed all around the place, surrounded by project materials, working and having fun.
I was doing my best to come up with Peter’s speech, and he was providing little help—no surprise there. He was like a little kid in a candy shop when it came to Mr. Terupt’s classroom. He was over by the windowsill area checking out the catapults Mr. Terupt had his students building. I was incredibly jealous.
“I see you’ve spotted our catapults, Luke,” Mr. Terupt said. “It’s a fun project. After they’re built, we’re going to fire them off and do lots of math and science. We’ll measure the mass of different objects and the distance that each gets thrown. We’ll also pull the catapult back at varying lengths and measure how far a certain ball gets tossed each time. Once we get all that data, we’ll do some graphing and see what predictions we might be able to make about the relationship between mass and distance launched—all sorts of cool physics.”
Cool physics indeed, I thought. This was a classic Mr. Terupt project. Listening to him made me wish I was back in sixth grade, but he had also given me an idea for our campaign. I planned to conduct a wide range of surveys and then use the results to construct a series of graphs and charts showing Peter’s climb in the polls. These statistics would convince many of our voters. The same thing happened in real life all the time.
“What are your new students like?” I asked Mr. Terupt. I wanted to know a little about the lucky kids who’d get to fire off catapults.
“Well, I have a boy named Kevin who’s a bit like Peter. He needs some reminding every once in a while, but he’s got a tough old grandma to keep him in line, and she does a pretty good job of it.
“And there’s Marcus, who’s a bit like you.” Mr. Terupt leaned closer and in a hushed voice said, “His catapult will perform the best.”
I smiled.
“And I have Suzi and Olivia and Maya, who are quiet girls but lovely readers.” He looked at Jessica and Anna and Danielle when he said that.
“Who do you have who’s like Lexie?” I asked.
“No one, Luke. There’s only one Lexie. We all know that.”
“And she’s going to be president,” Jessica said.
I glanced at Peter to see what he had to say about that, but he wasn’t paying attention. My eyes almost popped out of my head when I saw what he was up to.
LUKE’S SEVENTH-GRADE SURVIVAL GUIDE
TIP #6: There’s nothing like a good project. This is a surefire way to bring friends together and make everyone happy.
Luke was all into the math and science Mr. T had planned with those catapults. They were busy talking some crazy physics stuff when I spotted an irresistible target. The way I saw it, I was doing everyone a favor. What better way to make it feel like old times than by adding a little excitement?
I took the biggest, baddest-looking catapult, the one built by some kid named Marcus, and quietly moved it from the windowsill area to a nearby desk. No one was paying any attention. Next, I prepared my ammunition. I found a sheet of loose-leaf paper sticking out of the same desk and stuffed it in my mouth. For stunts like these, there was nothing better than the old-fashioned spitball. I chomped two different pieces of paper and then mushed them together, forming one heavy, wet bullet.
Saving Mr. Terupt Page 6