Saving Mr. Terupt

by Robert W. Buyea

  We knew Mom needed to take it easy after her surgery, so I had already convinced Vincent to give me a ride to school each morning. I told him the last thing I was about to do was ride the bus with all those smelly and obnoxious kids. I had Vincent wrapped around my finger, and he never told me no. So I made plans with Jessica to have Vincent pick her up each morning as well. On Thursday we’d get her earlier than usual because we weren’t taking her to school, but to the train station. As long as Jessica and I acted normal, and told Vincent where she was going, he wouldn’t think anything more of it. Once we got her there, she’d be on her own, but Jessica knew what to do because she did the train thing last summer. Once we got her there, she’d be on her way to the city—as me!

  During dinner, I took care of the last detail that needed attention. I told Ms. Writeman that Vincent would be getting the gang to Teach’s classroom after school on Thursday because he was already planning to pick me up each day before going to check on Mom.

  “Are you sure?” Ms. Writeman asked.

  “Yes. Vincent already said it was all right.” (That was a lie.)

  “Okay, but you tell him to let me know if he can’t do it.”

  “Okay, I will,” I said, then I winked at Jessica. She kicked me under the table because she was a nervous Nellie, worried to death about her mother finding out what we were up to. I had to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from giggling.

  Following dinner, I sat Jessica on her bed, along with Margo, and then I dove into her wardrobe. If she was going to the city as me, then she had to look good. We were in no rush, so I took my time going through her things. It was fun. Jessica had some cute clothes. Things she needed to wear more often, and Margo agreed with me. My pup had good taste. She yipped once when I held up something she liked, and barked a bunch when it was something she didn’t approve of. She had us laughing our heads off.

  The only thing we didn’t think through with our plan was what would happen when Ms. Writeman finally found out that Jessica was missing. Jessica wasn’t going to get to see that, but I would.

  It was Thursday again, our favorite day of the week. We weren’t exactly getting along, but we were slowly starting to talk. We were hanging in the school lobby, waiting for our ride.

  “Where’s Jessica?” I asked. “And where’s her mother?”

  “They’re out of town,” Lexie said. “Vincent’s giving us a lift today.”

  “Who?”

  “Vincent.”

  “You mean the guy from the restaurant? Is he your mom’s boyfriend?”

  “Don’t talk about my mother!” Lexie snapped. “And don’t talk to me!”

  She’d turned into that spider Luke had told us about during his PowerPoint last year, and she’d just bitten my head off. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk, but Lexie made it pretty clear she didn’t like me. In fact, I’d say she hated me—and, I was about to find out, so did her dog.

  Vincent pulled up in front of the school, and when he came to a stop this pint-sized critter leapt up from the passenger seat onto the dash. If ever there was a Lexie dog, this was it. The thing was fashioned with a pink bow and clips in its fur, and was wearing a purple sweater with poufy cuffs and neck.

  “Margo!” Lexie squealed. Other than T—and Zack—this pip-squeak hairball was the only thing I’d seen that had made Lexie smile since our party. As soon as it saw her, the dog started yipping and crying.

  We piled into Vincent’s ride, and Margo started going nuts, bouncing around like a pinball and running all over us. She was an excited little devil. She jumped into Lexie’s lap and did a series of donuts before slowing down enough to give Lexie’s hands all sorts of licks. Just when it looked like she was finally going to settle down, Lexie’s fingers must’ve run out of flavor because that little mutt hopped into my lap and started kissing my hands. I was fine with it—until that same warm and wet sensation I was feeling on my fingers suddenly showed up in my lap. I grabbed that fur ball and hoisted her in the air as the last of the pee dribbled from her.

  “Margo!” Lexie cried, taking her from my clutches before I popped her like a balloon.

  The car filled with laughter. Lexie’s rat-dog peeing all over me had everyone cracking up, including Lexie. It was the first time I’d heard her laugh like that in over a month. It was the first time I’d heard everyone laughing together in over a month. And even though they were laughing at me, that warm sensation in my lap spread through the rest of my body.

  When we reached the school, Lexie put Margo in a bag and climbed out of the car with her.

  “You’re bringing that purse-dog in with you?”

  “Yes,” Lexie said. “Teach met her at the restaurant and asked me to bring her today. But, like, don’t talk to me.”

  Maybe Margo gave kisses, but her owner was still in the mood to bite. I let Lexie go ahead of me, leaving plenty of space between us. Besides, I had to hit the bathroom to wash up and dry off before going to T’s classroom.

  “Whoa, nice shiner,” Peter said to Terupt.

  It wasn’t a dark-purple one, but a less obvious yellow-green color, so I hadn’t noticed it. But Peter saw it the moment he entered the classroom, finally arriving from the bathroom. The truth was, I’d been busy trying to look into Anna’s eyes, not Terupt’s.

  “Did the missus give that to you?” Peter asked.

  “It’s true my darling bride is not afraid to put me in my place, especially when I start acting like you,” Terupt said, “but no, she’s not the one who gave this to me. I actually got it at wrestling practice the other day when I was rolling around with Brandon.” Brandon was a high schooler we met last year through Lexie. He’d seemed like bad news at first, but Terupt had helped straighten him out.

  “You went to the varsity practice?” I said.

  “I did, and I was thinking I’d take the two of you today when we get done here,” Terupt said.

  “But we have our own practice to go to today,” I said.

  “I know. We’ll go to that first, and then when you’re finished, we’ll scoot over to the varsity workout. Your practice gets done right about the time the varsity is finishing with warm-ups and conditioning, so we should make it just in time for the scrimmaging—unless you don’t want to go. We don’t have to. It was just an idea.”

  “No, I want to go,” I was quick to say.

  “Who will we pair up with?” Peter asked.

  “They have a few kids your size, but one in particular who I think will make a great partner for both of you.”

  I was excited, and so was Luke—but not about wrestling practice. Luke had suddenly come up with another one of his famous ideas.

  At this point I had attended exactly three student government meetings, and the third was no better than the first two. I was beginning to think the whole thing was a joke—as were my classmates. They were saying things like, “Luke, when’re you gonna get us something?” or “Student government is stupid. You guys don’t do anything.”

  Instead of feeling privileged to be president, I felt frustrated. I didn’t want to be the guy who got nothing done, but without money there wasn’t much I could do. Mr. Terupt had said the same thing. What we needed was a fund-raiser. But what kind? And then it hit me. I always did my best thinking in Mr. Terupt’s classroom.

  LUKE’S SEVENTH-GRADE SURVIVAL GUIDE

  TIP #12: When things aren’t getting done or going your way, you can sit around and complain, or you can choose to do something about it. The trick is to find a solution that makes both students and teachers happy.

  I stood up. “Mr. Terupt, I have a proposal.”

  “Uh-oh,” Peter said. “He’s got another idea. Brace yourselves.”

  “I’m listening,” Mr. Terupt said.

  “I’ve got an idea—”

  “Told you,” Peter blurted out.

  “Zip it, Peter,” Mr. Terupt said. “Go ahead, Luke.”

  “We would call it the Everything Fair,” I began, “and it would be just
what its name suggests, a fair that includes everything, not just your typical math and science stuff, but much more. We would have tables set up where we demonstrate our skills, share our knowledge and passions, talk about our pets”—I pointed at Margo, and Lexie smiled—“anything and everything.”

  “I like it,” Mr. Terupt said. “Keep going.”

  “Well, we’d have it at the junior high,” I continued, “and it would be a fund-raiser for the seventh-grade class, so they’d have to do most of the work for it. But also, it would be a terrific opportunity for your students to be exposed to the junior high school before next year. We could charge a seventh grader three dollars to participate in the Everything Fair, and charge one-dollar admission to everyone else. Why would seventh graders pay to participate? Because it would get them out of classes for the day, and because the money earned would be going right back to them.”

  “That sounds awesome,” Marcus said.

  “Yeah,” Suzi agreed.

  Mr. Terupt’s sixth graders were on board, and I saw the gang silently nodding—and even cracking tiny smiles.

  “Well, Luke. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s starting to feel like old times around here,” Mr. Terupt said. He gave us a sly grin. “The only thing missing is Jessica. Where is she today?”

  “Uh…she’s out of town,” Lexie said.

  “Oh. Well, I’m sold on this idea,” he said. “Luke, I want you to go and present it to Mrs. Williams now, and then you’ll have to clear it with Principal Lee at the junior high tomorrow.”

  So that was what I did, and Mrs. Williams loved it. In fact, she loved my idea so much that she got on the horn with Principal Lee right away. Principal Lee was hesitant at first, mostly because this meant we’d be missing a day of classes, but once he discovered how much learning and work our fair entailed, and that it was a student government initiative, he was easily persuaded. He even told Mrs. Williams that he was looking forward to it.

  LUKE’S SEVENTH-GRADE SURVIVAL GUIDE

  TIP #13: If you want to convince your teacher and principal to go for your idea, then make it a learning opportunity.

  I had only one question: Was a good project also a surefire way to bring former friends back together?

  I had more than enough to be mad about on our walk from the junior high gym to the varsity wrestling practice that day. First off, Lexie’s fur-ball dog had whizzed on me, then Luke had to go ahead and get one of his brainiac ideas that meant I suddenly had a project to complete. The last thing I wanted was more homework, though his fair did sound pretty cool. As if all that wasn’t enough, at our junior high practice Mark threw up all over the mat when I slapped a tight waist on him. His macaroni and cheese lunch came spilling out everywhere. Some of his nastiness even got on my arm. It was disgusting! It’s safe to say I wasn’t having the best afternoon, and believe it or not, it only got worse. The varsity kid that T had in mind for us to practice with was none other than Zack!

  “Hey, Zack,” T said when we walked into the gym.

  “Hey, Mr. Terupt. How’s it going?”

  “Good. I brought you a couple of workout partners today. This is Peter and Jeffrey.” T pointed to us as he said our names.

  We didn’t say a word. Who did Zack think he was, acting all cool with T? I might’ve been mad earlier, but now I was furious. Jeffrey didn’t seem to care. He was too psyched about being at the varsity workout. He was willing to do whatever it took to beat Scott Winshall at the end of the year.

  The varsity guys took a water break while Jeffrey and I got our shoes on. Exactly as T had said, we were just in time for the scrimmaging part of practice. The varsity coach told everybody to get in groups of three. That meant Jeffrey, me, and Zack.

  While we waited for the rest of the team to get in groups, Zack tried being cool with us. “Have you guys seen that chubby girl in school who’s always walking around with her lunch box? She’s such a weirdo.”

  “Her name is Danielle, and it’s not a lunch box,” I said. “She has diabetes, and that kit she carries around contains the medicine she needs to stay alive, so don’t make fun of her.”

  “One and two, on your feet!” the coach yelled.

  Zack didn’t get a chance to say anything back, which was good, because I’d already had enough of his fat mouth. He and Jeffrey were closer in size, so they went at it for the first minute, and Jeffrey gave Zack all he could handle. Neither one of them scored a point. I went in with Zack next, and even though I was a bit smaller, I was determined not to lose to that jerk. I went toe-to-toe with him. After those first two minutes, Zack knew he wasn’t going to have it easy with us. Of course, I was tired after my first round with Zack, so Jeffrey whipped up on me next, but I didn’t care—Zack wasn’t getting the best of me.

  We spent twenty minutes scrimmaging in our groups and then finished practice with some hard conditioning. When it was all over, the three of us lay on the mat exhausted, but I felt great, and I could tell Jeffrey did, too. We had just worked out with the big dogs.

  “You guys did a terrific job today,” T said, sitting down next to us. “You wrestled hard and helped each other get better.”

  We nodded.

  “What’s the matter, old man, afraid to wrestle with me today?” It was Brandon. He gave T a friendly shove and then he reached out and slapped five with Jeffrey and me as he knelt down. He’d certainly come a long way since his days as Middle-Finger Boy. Mr. T could do that for a person. Was T helping out Zack, too?

  “I wanted to keep an eye on the lightweights this afternoon,” T said. “Besides, you need to recoup before I give you your next whooping.”

  “I’m not the one with the black eye,” Brandon said.

  Jeffrey and I laughed.

  “It’s good to see you guys,” Brandon said. “I heard you’ve been tearing it up on the junior high mats. You going to come back and work with the Zack Attack some more? We need you to make him tougher.”

  Zack sneered at Brandon. Jeffrey and I shrugged and then looked at T.

  “I think we’ll be back,” T said. “Jeffrey’s got a big match to get ready for.”

  “Oh, yeah? Against who?” Brandon asked.

  “Scott Winshall,” Jeffrey said. “I lost to him at the Holiday Invitational.”

  “I lost to him last year,” Zack said. “He’s tough, but you can beat him.”

  What was this? Was Zack being cool?

  “You better come back,” Brandon said. “The Zack Attack needs partners, and the old man needs me to keep him in shape.” Brandon gave Mr. T another playful shove and then stood up. “See you guys,” he said, and then headed to the locker room.

  “See you later,” Jeffrey and I called.

  “I’m going to hit the showers,” Zack said, standing. “Um…thanks for coming.”

  “Good job today,” T said.

  Why was I surprised? I should’ve known by now, anything was possible with T.

  After Jeffrey and I got cleaned up, T gave us a lift home. We dropped Jeffrey off first, then it was on to my house.

  “You know, Peter,” T said as we drove along, “it’s one thing to have a friend’s back when you’re with them, but to stick up for them when they aren’t around is a real testament to your character, and that makes you much more of a man than any whiskers—fake or real—ever will.”

  It helped to hear T say that because with the gang all messed up, I’d been feeling like a bad friend. But I wasn’t. I still had everyone’s back, like I had promised him. And that also meant looking out for T, so before climbing out of his car I asked him what I’d been wondering since first spotting his shiner. “T,” I said, “is it okay for you to be wrestling with Brandon? I mean, with your head and all.” I couldn’t help worrying about T’s head, even two years after his coma.

  “Gosh, Peter, you’re starting to sound like my wife.”

  I tried to chuckle, but I was serious.

  “Yes, it’s fine,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’m
careful. Brandon’s not that tough yet, though he’s getting there. He’s got a shot at a state title this year.”

  I nodded, but I still wasn’t feeling all that good about his answer.

  “And I’ll tell you something else,” T said. “You and Jeffrey are definitely better than I was as a seventh grader.”

  My eyes widened. Wow! Talk about a compliment.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “I wouldn’t tell you that if it weren’t true. Now, go do your homework.”

  When I reached my front door, I turned around and watched T drive away, and as he did, I stood there hoping he’d been telling me the truth—and I don’t mean about how good I’d become at wrestling.

  Anna and I entered the kitchen one night after finishing up our homework and found Grandma and Mom and the rest of the family huddled around the table talking in hushed voices. My first thought was that there was something going on with the Native Americans’ court case again. I was about to let the whole bunch of them have a piece of my mind for keeping me out of the loop, but Grandma stopped me before I could even get started.

  “Danielle, don’t you go and get your hair all in a dander now,” she said. “I’ll fill you girls in on what we’ve been talking about, but first get your sugars under control. I can tell already that they’re running high.”

  Anna let out a small giggle because Grandma had read me like a page out of her Bible, but I was still angry. I gave myself a shot with the correct amount of insulin, and then Anna and I followed Grandma back up to my room.

  “I want to know what’s going on,” I demanded.

  Grandma plopped down on my bed. “If you give me a chance, I’ll tell you. Boy, they need to make that insulin work faster.”

  “It’s not my sugars that’ve got me acting like this,” I said. “It’s your blood in me.”