“Peter, bad idea,” I warned him. “I wouldn’t do it.” But like they say, some things never change. He wasn’t about to listen to me—a voice of reason, and a girl.
“Forget it,” Jeffrey whispered. “It’s no use. He’s got his mind set.”
Danielle and I exchanged glances. We knew things were about to get ugly, we just had no idea how ugly.
Peter crouched down and slowly filled Lexie’s right hand with the whipped cream, and he didn’t give her just a little bit, but a pile of it. Then he took his toothpick and ever so gently dragged it along the bridge of her nose. He did it once. Twice. And then all of a sudden, Lexie’s hand flew through the air and landed on the tickle she was feeling. She took that whipped-cream hand of hers and rubbed it right up her nose and all over her face! That was it. Peter couldn’t hold it together anymore.
“Oh my God!” he yelled, and burst out laughing.
Lexie sat bolt upright. “What? What’d I miss?” We couldn’t tell her because we were cracking up, but Lexie wasn’t born yesterday. She knew we were laughing at her. She reached up and touched her face, looked at her hand, and then screamed, “Peter, I’m gonna kill you!”
“Shush! Shush!” Luke yelled. “They’re starting to post the results.”
Our fun and games ended. This was it.
Dear Journal,
We’d done what we could with our voices. Now it was time to wait for the numbers. It was time to find out if letters or numbers had won in our war. My fingers were crossed….
There must’ve been budget votes all over the place because I kept seeing the results for different towns flashing across the screen. Where was ours?
Like, I rubbed my eyes to make sure I was seeing things right, that it wasn’t the whipped cream blurring my vision. I wanted it to be the whipped cream.
I couldn’t hold back my tears. I wasn’t strong enough for that.
“No way! That’s wrong!”
The results came in.
YES 2,349
NO 2,456
Dear God,
We’ve been crushed by the full weight of the storm. Please help us.
Amen.
It was time for more drastic measures. There was no way I was allowing this to happen. These people had made a mistake.
After the numbers came up on the screen, I had a hard time breathing. It was like I was in the hospital—with Michael, with Coach Terupt—all over again. I had to get home. I needed to see Asher.
I called Dad. He’d been watching the news like the rest of us, so he knew the results.
“Jeffrey, I’m sorry, Son.”
“I need you to come and get me now.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Dad didn’t know what to say during our ride home. I wasn’t interested in talking anyway. I was only thinking about Asher. When I got in the house, I hurried into his room. I placed my hand on his shoulder and gently shook him. I needed him to wake up. I needed him to open his eyes.
“Jeffrey, what’re you doing?” Dad asked, startled by my strange behavior.
There was no time to explain everything. “I’ve got to see him.”
“You can see him in the morning.”
I shook the little guy harder.
“Jeffrey, that’s enough,” Dad said, pulling my arm away. But he was too late. My little brother started to stir. He rubbed his face and opened his eyes. I bent closer and looked. And I found what I’d been hoping for.
Staring back at me were the same eyes I first met when I rescued Asher from that field by the side of the road. The same eyes I’d seen when he had banged on our slider and yelled “My-my.” The same eyes he had in the gym when he told Anna and me that Michael was there. Michael was with us again tonight. That was what I needed to know. With Michael, and with Asher, I knew we still had a chance.
Maybe we’d lost the battle, but we could still win the war.
What do you do when things don’t go your way? A toddler throws a temper tantrum, a teenage boy might opt for throwing punches, others choose pouting or implementing the silent treatment. Things had not gone our way, but none of these responses seemed appropriate or particularly helpful—except maybe the silent treatment.
There’s power in silence. If you recall, I mentioned having felt that during my visit to Arlington National Cemetery. There’s also power in numbers. When there’s a group of people not happy about something, how do they respond? Sometimes they stage a protest, which might mean picket lines and marches. Such an undertaking would require more signs and materials, and that was simply too much for us to try to pull together this late in the game. But a protest could also be in the form of a boycott. This seemed more manageable and just as effective, and not only that, but boycott also happens to be a dollar word. Mr. Terupt sprang his dollar-word project on us back in fifth grade. In that challenge, each letter of the alphabet had a different cent value, and a dollar word meant that, when totaled, the letters in the word equaled one dollar exactly. Ever since, these words have had a way of speaking to me. A boycott (dollar word) was definitely the answer. The question was: What could we boycott?
As I thought and thought about it, knowing we needed to do something big, yet smart and safe, I realized it was civil disobedience that I was thinking about. History was alive with it. We didn’t study and honor just our former presidents, but also great human beings like Martin Luther King Jr. and Rosa Parks, who were able to rally and unite people and inspire change with their nonviolent acts.
Luke Bennett was going to be next.
LUKE’S SEVENTH-GRADE SURVIVAL GUIDE
TIP #21: Let your heart be your compass.
I thought I was the crazy one in our group who came up with the risky and dangerous ideas, like sending Jessica to New York City as me, but, like, Luke was even crazier. This idea of his was going to be one for the ages. And like, succeeding at this was going to give Mom the strength to win in her fight, too. I could feel it, like Danielle said she can sometimes.
Dear Journal,
I wrote those letters to the paper with renewed energy. Was it because I wanted to save Mr. Terupt? Yes, of course! I wanted my time with him to be everlasting. Remember? But I also found writing the letters made me feel closer to Dad. He’s still sending one a day. He hasn’t missed once. Mom still hasn’t opened any, and I have yet to reply, but they keep coming. Do you think it’s possible for a string of simple words, or simple acts, to eventually add up to something significant?
Luke’s persistence in our plight to save the teacher we loved reminded me of Dad. Despite failed attempts, Luke was going to keep trying, and his newest idea was genius. Mrs. Reeder had spent all year talking to us about important words, but it was our silence that was going to say the most.
Still fighting for Mr. Terupt,
Jessica
P.S. I want Mom to open Dad’s letters, but how do I convince her to do that?
To pull off something of this magnitude would take careful planning and management of resources. That wasn’t anything that intimidated me. In the end, this was just another project. Last year, I was convinced that I’d never take on a bigger or more important task than overseeing the budget for Mr. Terupt’s wedding. That was the only budget I’d ever cared about. But now, less than one year later, I found myself in this position because of a different budget, and the truth was it wasn’t just another project. If you asked me, we were facing a life-or-death situation, because to imagine things without Mr. Terupt nearby felt like someone dying.
I had Jeffrey and Peter explain things to the eighth-grade wrestlers, who then spread the word among their classmates. Then they went and found Brandon. This was a really important connection because Brandon was a very popular kid, and he was also a huge Mr. Terupt fan. He had the power to rally most of the high school behind us—definitely the eleventh and twelfth grades. Lexie talked to Reena and Lisa, the high school girls she had befriended last year, and they agreed to help Brandon get everyone on
board. I found all the other student council members and told them about my plan, and they got busy spreading the word as well. I had people working from all different angles. There was only one other key player we needed to reach so that he could help us pull it all together, and reaching that person was up to me. Abraham Lincoln once said, “Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?”
To arrange for our meeting, I did something I never do during class—I took the bathroom pass and excused myself. I knew I’d be missing something important, but sacrifices needed to be made. This was the best time to do something like this, because the halls were empty. I fast-walked toward my destination, not wanting to miss any more class time than was necessary. I popped into the bathroom, counted to sixty, and then started on my way back. No, I didn’t even go. I didn’t have to, but I was careful to make it appear as if I’d gone. Returning too soon could make my teacher suspicious. I dropped my note in Zack’s locker as I hurried back to class. Phase one was complete.
The note wasn’t a small scrap of paper as you might suspect. I chose a large piece of red construction paper. Zack wasn’t the most observant kid—from what I’d observed—so I wanted to make sure he noticed it. The instructions I gave him said to meet me in the bathroom by the teachers’ room at two o’clock, during ninth period. I chose that specific location because it was the least likely to have another student in there at that designated time, and also because there was a chance a teacher might hear me screaming for help if Zack decided to show up and beat the crap out of me.
I spent the rest of the day counting down the minutes. My hands wouldn’t stop sweating, and my heart felt like it was beating in my throat. By the time ninth period rolled around, I had myself convinced that I’d made a terrible mistake.
“Luke, you’re looking rather pale,” Mr. Brobur said when I walked into Science. “You feeling all right?”
“Not the best,” I said. “I might need to step out if I start feeling worse.”
“Sure. Okay. Whatever you need.”
Perfect, I thought. Now I have a reason to go to the bathroom without causing alarm. Being a good kid sure paid off. Mr. Brobur never doubted me. I’d have felt bad about that, but this was important. I just hoped he didn’t decide to send someone to check on me—or maybe I did, in case Zack was using me to mop the floor.
At 1:53, I got up and left science class without Mr. Brobur saying a word. I practically ran to the bathroom. I intended to get there first so I could get in a comfortable and confident position, but when I arrived, I found Zack already standing there, blocking any chance I had for a fast getaway.
“Whatever it is, Bennett, it better be good,” he said. “My coach may have helped me out with some of my…anger issues, but I still owe you one for that hallway stunt, so if I don’t like what you’ve got to say, I think you’ll go swimming in that toilet over there—the dirty one.”
I gulped, unable to imagine a worse death. “I arranged for this meeting because I—we—need your help.”
“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” Zack said, taking a step forward, “but you must be stupid. I can’t believe you showed up here to tell me that. You better hope one of those turds works as your life raft.”
A second gulp and a step back. “We’re trying to pull off a school-wide sit-in to protest the teacher cuts,” I croaked. “We’re trying to save our old teacher, Mr. Terupt. If you knew him—”
“Wait a sec. Mr. Terupt? I do know him. He’s an awesome dude. He’s the coach who helped me at wrestling and stuff this year.”
Whew! Maybe I wasn’t going to get stuffed into that toilet after all. “We need your help if we’re going to save him,” I said.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Get the word out to the ninth graders. Make sure they know the sit-in will take place this Thursday. Everyone should come to school same as always, but instead of reporting to homeroom, they need to go to the high school gym. That’s where we’ll be gathering.”
“Who’s going to be there?”
“The entire school,” I said. “We’ve got all the other grades covered.”
“Whoa! This is going to drive Principal Lee crazy!”
“Yes, so it’s got to be kept secret,” I reminded him. “And we need everyone.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about that. You forget who you’re talking to.”
I stuck my hand out and we shook. “Thanks,” I said.
“You’re all right, Bennett. You don’t have to worry about watching your back anymore. I’ve got it for you.”
Zack left, and I stayed behind. Honest Abe had been right about making enemies your friends, but he forgot to mention that I’d need to check my underwear after doing so.
Principal Lee exploded through the gym doors. I hadn’t seen him this mad—ever. Not even when I slopped coffee all over his boy parts. He stormed to the middle of the floor, his megaphone in hand. No one said a word. He didn’t need to raise his arm or blast his air horn because we were already dead quiet, and it wasn’t for him. He saw all our signs. He knew what this was about. Principal Lee was the man who was always in charge, always in control—but suddenly he wasn’t. This was his school—but not right now. How dare we do this on his watch! He loosened his tie, which I thought was an excellent idea because he already had splotches of purple dotting his forehead, and he hadn’t even started yelling yet. Slowly, he lifted the megaphone to his mouth.
“I want to know who’s responsible for this extreme show of disrespect and insubordination,” he said, using a firm but low voice. He waited, fighting to keep his composure, but it was no use. The gym remained silent, and then Principal Lee lost it. “Now!” he shouted through his megaphone.
More silence.
“Fine,” he said, back to using the low but firm approach. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Give yourself up, and the consequences won’t be as severe as they’ll be if I have to investigate and find out the truth. Turn the guilty person in, and you’ll be rewarded. However, if no one chooses to come forward, then each and every one of you will pay the price, and this act of defiance”—here Principal Lee started shouting again—“will go on your permanent records!”
Our silence persisted. You could feel us growing stronger with each passing minute of our standoff, but Principal Lee wasn’t throwing in the towel yet.
“I was hoping to avoid this, but you leave me no choice,” he said. “Miss Ferguson, you can follow me. We’ll start with you. As president of the senior class, I’m sure you had some say in this. It’s unfortunate that this rebellion will need to be reported to the college you’ve chosen to attend next year, which will almost definitely jeopardize your acceptance, and after all the hard work and sacrifices you made. What a shame.”
I didn’t know “Miss” Ferguson from a hole in the ground, but to see an innocent person being marched off because of something you’ve done is not an easy thing to let slide. Luke was ready to crack. There was no doubt about it. He started to stand, but I grabbed his shirt and yanked him back down.
“We need you in this fight if Mr. T has any chance at all. Don’t say a word,” I hissed in warning to him. Then I jumped to my feet. “I’m the one behind it,” I said.
“Peter, what’re you doing!” Luke whispered.
“Shut up,” I said.
Principal Lee spun around and glared across the gym. He was wild with anger and couldn’t wait to see who’d dared to challenge his authority.
“Mr. Jacobs. You expect me to believe that a puny seventh grader foolish enough to put hair dye all over his face could pull this off? Very noble of you to take the blame for someone else—noble and stupid. You can follow us. After I’m done with Miss Ferguson, I’ll have fun expelling you.”
What? Expelling me? He couldn’t do that! Could he?
“Actually, I’m the one who planned it, not Peter,” Jeffrey said, rising to his feet beside me. He had my back.
“No, I’m the on
e who planned it,” Jessica said.
“I’m the one who planned it,” Zack said.
“It was me,” Brandon said, standing among the sea of high schoolers.
“It was me,” Reena said.
One by one, my friends and kids I didn’t even know stood and claimed to be the person responsible, until the entire student body was standing and in unison began chanting, “Save our teachers. Save our teachers.”
Was this going to be enough to save Mr. T? I had no idea. It was enough to send Principal Lee storming out the doors, though—without “Miss” Ferguson. We didn’t break into celebration—not yet. Instead, we sat back down and let our silence press on, knowing that we still had a long ways to go.
Peter did one of the bravest things I’ve ever witnessed. I suppose I shouldn’t have been all that surprised, because he’d done the same sort of thing last year when our class was divided between royalty and peasants during Mr. Terupt’s Whipping Boy project. Peter made his stand for the peasants, and I had thought that was the bravest thing I’d ever seen, his sacrificing Field Day and all, but that was nothing compared to this. What we were dealing with now was no make-believe ordeal. It was a do-or-die situation. We were playing with fire, and Peter wasn’t backing down.
Peter was on his feet and telling Principal Lee that this was all his doing. Lee didn’t buy it for a second, but he was more than happy to make an example of Peter. He never liked Peter to begin with. Again, Luke tried to stand, but I yanked him back down.
It was my turn to be brave. Even though I couldn’t see Michael, I felt him there helping me. I reached down and grasped Anna’s hand. She gave mine a squeeze.
Saving Mr. Terupt Page 20