Saving Mr. Terupt

by Robert W. Buyea

  “I’ve been a member of this community all my life, having gone to school here and spent the better part of thirty-plus years teaching here,” Mr. Brobur continued. “This place is my home, and I care about it tremendously, as I do you and your futures, which is why I became a teacher in the first place. This is also why I know the time has come for me to step aside.

  “I do not speak of English and literature and words in the way that Mrs. Reeder does, but make no mistake about it, you have inspired me with the important words you’ve spoken, the sentences you’ve written, and the silence you’ve kept. It’s been a privilege watching you. And to show my sincere gratitude for all that you’ve done, I wanted to give you one last thing in return. Taking over the reins as your new junior high school science teacher and wrestling coach, I present to you…Mr. William Terupt.”

  At that precise moment, Mr. Terupt walked into our gym. He’d been saved.

  LUKE’S SEVENTH-GRADE SURVIVAL GUIDE

  TIP #23: If you have a goal that you do not achieve, this does not guarantee failure. If you’ve worked extremely hard, and if you’ve been honest in your pursuit to attain it, then you will have accomplished far more than you realize.

  Mr. Brobur had spent his career talking about science and concepts such as survival of the fittest. He’d taught us that it’s not necessarily the biggest or fastest individuals who survive, but the ones most responsive to change. Mr. Terupt was a survivor.

  The changing environment in our community hadn’t influenced only my phenotype, but Mr. Brobur’s as well. He was much more than a teacher and coach. Much more.

  We rushed from the bleachers and swarmed Mr. Terupt, engulfing him in our hugs. It was the last day of fifth grade all over again. He was back, bringing us another surprise happy ending.

  “I’ve got another surprise for you,” Terupt said, after the rest of the gym had emptied outside.

  “Another one?” Jessica said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. Did she know what he was going to say? I sure didn’t.

  “Yeah. C’mon.”

  We followed him. Once we stepped through the front doors and continued toward the parking lot, I knew where he was taking us, and understood why Jessica was excited. Sitting on a nearby bench, cradling their new bundle of joy, was Mrs. Terupt. Their newborn baby was perfect, a beautiful little angel. (I guess I have a soft spot for babies since Asher.)

  “T, is it a boy or girl?” Peter asked.

  “Are you serious?!” Lexie cried. “She’s a girl, you dope. Don’t you see her cute pink hat?”

  “Oh,” Peter said, sounding like the dope Lexie had called him.

  “What’s her name?” Jessica asked.

  “Hope,” Mrs. Terupt said. “That name feels right to us—mostly because of you guys.”

  “That’s pretty,” Anna said, bending closer. “Hi, Hope.”

  We smiled.

  “Guess you’ll need to try again to get your wrestler,” Peter said.

  “Why? Girls can wrestle,” Terupt said.

  “Oh, no!” Lexie cried. “She is not a wrestler!”

  “We’ll support her in whatever she wants to do,” Mrs. Terupt said. “That just won’t be wrestling.”

  We laughed.

  —

  The third period of a good wrestling match can be a flurry of action, and that was exactly how the final months of seventh grade had felt. There was one thing after another, but we ended with our arms raised in the air. We’d won the war. And with Terupt back in our corner, I knew we had many victories yet to come.

  After T and his family left, we spent the rest of the day having fun in the sun. The afternoon was ours for a cookout, time to sign yearbooks and soak up the rays. It was when I went to grab another slice of watermelon that I bumped into Principal Lee—not literally this time.

  “With Mr. Terupt around here next year, I’ll have another pair of good eyes on you,” Lee warned me. “And I’m going to be on you like white on rice, Jacobs. You better not slip up.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m always at my best with Mr. T around.”

  I remember how excited I was for my first day of junior high school, but like, that was nothing compared to our last day of seventh grade, a day marked by all sorts of special moments. First there was Mr. Brobur’s announcement when we learned Teach was still going to be with us. I didn’t think it could get better than that, but then Teach took us outside to meet his precious little daughter, Hope. I still say Lexie would’ve been a better name, but Hope’s nice, too. I can’t wait to make her a pair of cute little booties to match her hat—pink for a reason other than cancer.

  That day, Vincent was there to pick me up after school. Mom and Margo sat in the passenger’s seat. I was so excited to share all the good news that I ran right up to her window.

  “Guess what? Teach gets to stay! Mr. Brobur is retiring, and Teach is taking over his position.”

  “That’s awesome!” Vincent said. “Now it’s our turn.”

  I stopped breathing and froze.

  “The test showed I’m clean,” Mom said. “Cancer-free.”

  I leaned through the window and squeezed her. Margo pushed and rooted with her nose to get in between us, whimpering and whining. Then she started licking at my face, tasting the salt on my cheeks.

  “I love you,” Mom whispered in my ear.

  “I love you.”

  Margo started yipping and barking after that. “Oh, and I love you, too,” I said, picking her up in my arms. I climbed into the back, and then Vincent pulled away from the curb.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Home,” Vincent said.

  Sitting next to me was another box, one like the others that had been showing up in my house. I smiled. Teach wasn’t the only one moving closer. I hugged Margo.

  Dear God,

  Mr. Brobur might be a man of science, a man who spent the better part of his life talking about evolution, but what he did for us was something that only a person living with you could pull off. He’s a saint. Keep him healthy and happy during retirement. And do continue to keep an eye on Mr. and Mrs. Terupt and baby Hope.

  I need to go now. Anna and I are going wedding-dress shopping with Jessica and Lexie. Our moms are coming too—and Grandma.

  On second thought, before taking care of Mr. Brobur and the Terupts, you probably better keep an eye on us. If Lexie tries to get Grandma in that bra store, we might need another miracle down here.

  Amen.

  Jessica’s the one who has a knack for words. I couldn’t come close to writing something in her book that would sum up our year and express my feelings. Plus, I didn’t want everyone else who would sign her yearbook reading what I had to say, so instead, I asked her to go on a walk. My compass pointed the way.

  LUKE’S SEVENTH-GRADE SURVIVAL GUIDE

  TIP #24: If you follow Tips #1–23 and play your cards right, not only will you survive seventh grade and potentially achieve something great, but you just might get the girl, too!

  Dear Journal,

  I found Mom reading Dad’s letters later that night. She’d been through many, but I wasn’t sure if she had a bigger stack of letters or tissues by her side.

  I walked over and wrapped my arms around her.

  “You write like your father,” she whispered, “from the heart. You feel his words.”

  I squeezed her harder.

  Love,

  Jessica

  P.S. I know I didn’t tell you about my walk with Luke. You don’t need to know everything.

  P.P.S. To describe it would require especially beautiful writing.

  All good things must come to an end, but with the end there also comes a beginning. And eighth grade was a beginning we couldn’t wait for!

  JUNIOR HIGH SURVIVAL GUIDE:

  Helpful Tips from the Old Gang!

  Read good books. Make good choices.

  Parties are fun, but stay out of the closet—and don’t fall asleep!
<
br />   You’d be better off getting a tattoo than trying to dye the peach fuzz on your face.

  There are plenty of highs and lows, but with your family and friends, you can make it through anything.

  Junior high is no different from looking through a camera. It might take you a while to get the right angle and the right lighting and to bring it all into focus, but once you figure things out, you’ll have a moment in your life you’re going to want to save forever. So take lots of pictures.

  Don’t be afraid to let go. You have people rooting for you who you can’t even see. And if you come up short the first time, you’ve only lost the battle. You can still win the war, so go for it.

  It’s easier to believe in yourself when others believe in you. So believe in each other. That’s what friends are for.

  Everyone deserves a second chance.

  Stand up for your friends, but remember to stand up for yourself, too.

  Sometimes it can be hard to share how you feel with someone. It’s important to know who you can trust, but also important to know when it’s okay to open up.

  If you’re having trouble of any kind, don’t be afraid to ask for help.

  Looking fabulous can help you feel fabulous. But keep things in perspective when you have a bad hair day—it’s nothing a little hair spray won’t fix!

  Just kidding. Don’t get a tattoo.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to all the teachers, librarians, and booksellers who continue to bring Mr. Terupt and his students to life, and to my many readers who have written asking me for more—and sometimes asking to be in the book and its dedication.

  To John Irving for always being there to share your wisdom and stories.

  To Paul Fedorko for your faith in me and continued work on my behalf. And to Sammy Bina for your work behind the scenes.

  To Beverly Horowitz for being there every step of the way.

  To my wonderful editor, Rebecca Weston, thank you for loving these characters—from the beginning. Thank you for your insightful comments and feedback, for your honesty and careful attention, and for your magical touch. Mrs. Reeder gives you an A+.

  To all my friends and family who continue to spread the word, better position my books in the book stores, and provide rock-solid support and positive encouragement, I can’t thank you enough. And a special thanks to my mother, Joanne Buyea, and mother-in-law, Mary Dame, for making the trip to North Andover on numerous occasions so that you can watch the grandchildren while I travel to schools near and far.

  To my gang, Emma, Lily, and Anya, thank you for being so understanding, patient, and helpful when it came time for me to do the revision. And for listening to me read aloud my drafts—sometimes over and over—though you still haven’t heard it as many times as Jackson (our dog). I love you!

  And lastly, to Beth, who, along with Karlene’s help, filled Missy’s hand with shaving cream and tickled her nose. We always love your stories—the naughty ones, especially. I couldn’t do any of this without you. I love you more every day.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ROB BUYEA taught third and fourth graders in Bethany, Connecticut, for six years before moving to Massachusetts, where he taught high school biology and coached wrestling for seven years at Northfield Mount Hermon. He now lives in North Andover, Massachusetts, with his wife and three daughters and is working as a full-time writer. Because of Mr. Terupt, his first novel, was selected as an E. B. White Read-Aloud Honor Book and a CYBILS finalist and has won seven state awards and been named to numerous state award lists. Mr. Terupt Falls Again and Saving Mr. Terupt are companion novels to Because of Mr. Terupt. The books continue to reach classrooms near and far and have given Rob the opportunity to visit with students all over the country—something he loves to do. Rob spends his summers at Cape Cod enjoying family adventures, entertaining friends, and writing. You can visit him at robbuyea.com.