by Rob Buyea
I saw him. On his back. Perfectly still in his bed. Tubes poked into his arms. A mask covered his face. Machines beeped. His eyes stayed closed. He didn’t move. Not an inch. Only his chest rose up, then fell down, with each frail breath.
I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell Mr. Terupt I was there. I wanted to tell him he was going to be okay. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I tried. I tried, and I felt a lump in my throat begin to choke me.
I didn’t want to cry. I told myself not to cry. I had coached myself not to cry, but I couldn’t stop it. Tears welled up in my eyes and fell down my cheeks. I turned and ran out of the room.
Mr. Terupt was going to die. I just knew it. I saw him. I saw what he looked like. He was going to die. My teacher was going to die.
The elevator doors opened and I stepped in, my mom right behind me. How could he have let this happen? Why did he put so much trust in us? He should have learned from my plant concoction. He knew it probably wasn’t a good idea, but he let me do it anyway. Just like he knew our rough play outside probably wasn’t a good idea, but he let it go again. He should have yelled at us. He should have yelled at Peter for the Frisbee. He should have yelled at him for the puddle of water. He should have yelled so that we knew he was serious—then this never would have happened. He should have stopped us. Now he was going to die.
We stepped off the elevator and walked to our car. As we pulled away, I saw the word HOSPITAL written on a sign. Mr. Terupt slept in the hospital (dollar word). I almost smiled.
Jeffrey
Terupt’s in a coma. I know what that’s all about. I remember from when I was little. Comas are terrifying. I’m never goin’ back to a hospital. Those places are full of bad memories and bad luck. I’d like to see Terupt, but I can’t visit him. I can’t do it. Luke told me it was scary. I know. People in comas die.
It shoulda been me in that coma … not Michael.
It should be me in that coma … not Terupt. Peter’s snowball shoulda hit me. Now our teacher’s gonna die. This sucks. School sucks. Everything sucks. It was better when I didn’t care.
anna
I heard Luke telling Jeffrey that he went to see Mr. Terupt in the hospital—that it was awful, and that Mr. Terupt wasn’t awake or moving. But I couldn’t help feeling the way I did. I wanted to go and see him, too. I just didn’t think I could do it alone. So I asked Jessica and Danielle to go with me.
We sat at lunch. We were quiet. No one talked much—not since the accident.
“Anna, what’s wrong?” Jessica asked. She’s always good at knowing when something’s not right.
“Nothing,” I said. I pulled my PB&J apart.
“Just tell us,” Danielle said.
I still didn’t say anything. I focused on my sandwich—picking at it but not eating.
“Come on,” Danielle urged.
I blurted it out. “I want to go and see him.” Silence. I brushed my sandwich pieces into a pile. I noticed Danielle and Jessica weren’t eating, either. The three of us busied ourselves with staring at our food.
“Me too,” Jessica finally said.
“Really?” Danielle said. “Aren’t you guys scared to go?”
“Yes,” I said. I skooched forward. “So let’s go together. Will you guys go with me?”
“I will,” Jessica said, pushing her food aside.
“You think your parents will let you?” Danielle asked.
She was asking both of us, but I answered. “I already asked my mom. She said she’d take us.”
“I’ll try,” Danielle said. “I want to go.”
“We’re stronger when we stick together. Remember?” Jessica said. “Just like Mr. Terupt told us.”
Her voice got quiet as she mentioned his name. We got quiet. We didn’t talk about him anymore. It hurt too much.
Danielle
I knew Mom and Grandma would have a fit about me going to the hospital with Anna—especially with her mother—but I didn’t care, not this time. I found the courage to ask them because it was important to me.
We were sitting in the kitchen preparing dinner. I peeled the potatoes. Grandma peeled the apples for one of her delicious pies. Mom managed everything else. “When do you think this snow’s gonna be gone?” Grandma asked. Farmers love to talk weather. A nice hot apple pie did sound wonderful in this cold, snowy weather. I inhaled deeply and then took the plunge.
“I want to go and see my teacher,” I said. “Anna’s mother is driving her and Jessica. I’d like to go with them.”
“You’re not going anywhere with that girl and her mother. We’ve already told you that,” Grandma snapped.
“Mother,” Mom said, “I’ll handle this. Keep an eye on dinner. Danielle, come with me.”
“I don’t like it,” Grandma said. Apple peels missed the pile and flew onto the floor.
I’m so grateful my mom pulled me away. I love Grandma, but she’s like a piece of iron. Unbendable. And forget about the teacher thing. In her mind, a teacher’s still the person that raps you on the knuckles with a ruler, or across the backside with a paddle. She doesn’t get Mr. Terupt at all. According to Grandma, this whole incident was his own fault.
“Seems to me that teacher of yours has only himself to blame,” Grandma said one night while doing dishes. “If he had more control over them boys, specially that Peter, this wouldn’t have happened.” I stopped drying the plate in my hands. “He needed a lickin’ months ago. And a good teacher woulda given him one.” My plate smashed onto the kitchen floor. I didn’t mean to drop it.
Mom, on the other hand—she gets it. I’ve told her about Mr. Terupt many times, so I know she understands how special he is. We sat on my bed, side by side—not looking at each other, but at the wall across from us. I’d hung my sketch of Mr. Terupt there.
“You really think you want to see him?” Mom asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s not going to be easy. He’s going to have machines and tubes hooked up to him. He’s not going to look at you or say anything.”
“I know. Luke was talking in school about his visit. He said it was scary.”
“And I don’t like you being around Anna, or her mother, but I also think it’s probably better that you go with your friends than alone.”
“Charlie could drop me off and pick me up.” The bed bounced as I twisted to face Mom. It sounded like she was about to agree. “Please.”
anna
It was time for us to go to the hospital. Jessica and her mother were already at my house. Our moms sat in the kitchen drinking coffee, like they often do now. Jessica and I sat around with some books, but even she found it difficult to focus enough to read.
“Danielle’s here,” I announced as soon as I saw the pickup truck pull into our snowy driveway. Mom came to the porch door to greet her with me.
“Oh my goodness,” I heard Mom say to herself. She didn’t even realize I was staring right at her. “Same old red farm truck.” Did she know that truck? I didn’t get it.
“Hi, Danielle,” I said as Danielle came up the steps. “This is my mom, Terri.”
“Hi, Danielle,” Mom said. “Come on in out of the cold.” Danielle stomped the snow off her shoes on our welcome mat. I took her coat and hung it on our rack. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Anna has told me so much about you,” Mom said. They shook hands.
“It’s nice to meet you, too, ma’am,” Danielle said back. “Thank you for letting me come with you.”
“I’m glad you could join us,” Mom said. “And you can call me Terri.”
I led Danielle farther into our house. When I looked back, Mom stood gazing out the door. After a few long seconds she turned away. She smiled at me and said, “Why don’t you give Danielle a quick tour of the house and hang out for a few minutes, then we’ll go.”
“What were you looking at?” I asked.
“Nothing, really.”
“That’s my brother, Charlie, who dropped me off,” Danielle said.
&n
bsp; “I didn’t know you had a brother,” I said.
“Yeah, he’s twenty-seven. A lot older than me. He works on the farm with my dad and grandpa.”
I looked at Mom. She’s twenty-seven, too.
“He drives that red Ford everywhere,” Danielle said.
“Always has,” Mom said. “Does it still have a dent in the driver’s-side door?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Danielle said.
My jaw dropped. What was going on? How did Mom know that? And why wasn’t Danielle as shocked as me about her knowing? I looked at Mom, but before I could get anything out of my mouth (I didn’t know what to say, anyway), she said, “A quick tour, Anna.”
Danielle
You’re young—just like my brother, I wanted to say to Anna’s mother—but I didn’t want to be disrespectful. So I didn’t say anything as she stood staring out the door at Charlie. I could tell Anna was playing matchmaker again, but I didn’t say anything about that, either. My family would never want to see Charlie and Terri together. Never.
I also met Jessica’s mom. She was very nice. “You can call me Julie or Ms. Writeman—whichever you’re more comfortable saying,” she said.
Anna’s house was simple, but nice. I guess you didn’t need a big old house when it was only you and your mom. The thing I liked best about Anna’s place was the artwork hanging on some of the walls. I took a closer look at one sketch and read the name, Terri Adams, at the bottom. Anna’s mother was an artist? I looked down at the sketch I held in my hands, the one that came from my bedroom wall. I had brought it to leave in Mr. Terupt’s room. Ms. Adams must have noticed me looking at her work and my work.
“Is that one of your sketches?” she asked. “Anna has told me that you’re a beautiful artist.” I held the drawing out for her to see, but I didn’t say anything. “Well, I’d say Anna was right. That is a lovely piece, Danielle.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” I said.
“You’ve done some wonderful things with shadowing and texture.” She pointed to different areas of my sketch.
“I’m not sure what that means, ma’am, but thank you.”
“Next time you come over, I’d be happy to do some sketching with you,” she said. “And I’ll give you a few pointers, if you’d like.”
Next time I come over, she had said.
Anna and Jessica and her mom joined us. “Told you she was an amazing sketch artist,” Anna said to her mom.
Ms. Adams smiled at us.
“Come on, Danielle. I’ll show you some of Mom’s other drawings and my bedroom.”
I followed Anna, but not before I returned Ms. Adams’s smile. I wondered what could possibly be the bad influence in Anna’s house. I liked it here. And I liked the two people who lived here. I also knew Grandma wouldn’t be as easily convinced.
After hanging out in Anna’s bedroom, it was time to go. On the car ride, the three of us sat in the backseat: Jessica held her book, Anna held her plant, and I held my special sketch. We were all quiet. I stared out the window at the passing snowbanks and tried to keep from thinking about the snowball day, but that was impossible. For the rest of my life, I knew that snow would trigger my memory of the accident.
Jessica
Act 9, Scene 2
Characters:
Me, me
Julie, my mother
Danielle, my friend
Anna, my friend
Terri, Anna’s mother
Action.
The elevator doors opened. We stepped into the white hall.
I thought of my first day at school, when my heart had thumped in my chest. The smell of disinfectant had lingered in the hallway. The smell of rubbing alcohol and iodine dominated this hospital hallway. Instead of the chatter of schoolkids arriving after a summer vacation, the only thing I could hear was the incessant beeping of those scary machines. This was way worse than the first day of school. I swallowed.
I gripped and squeezed and fidgeted with the book in my hands, Al Capone Does My Shirts. On that first day, Mr. Terupt had told me that he liked happy endings, so I brought him this book. I knew that he wouldn’t be able to see or read it, but I wanted him to have it. Plus, having something in my hands helped me with my nerves.
I’m glad his door wasn’t too far away, otherwise I might not have made it. But I did. And so did Danielle and Anna. We were there for each other.
We stopped just outside his door. The black marker spelled out TERUPT. I rubbed my finger on it. It didn’t smear. I looked at Danielle and Anna. There was no hiding our fear. My mother and Terri stood behind us for support, but they also let us do this on our own. I looked back at them.
“We’re right here,” Mom said.
“We’ll come in with you,” Terri added.
I took a deep breath and readied myself for what I would see.
anna
“How’re you doing?” Mom asked.
I shook my head. The hallway was so sad and frightening, and long. Beeping and coughing and moaning noises came from everywhere. Mom placed her hand on my shoulder. “I’m here,” she said.
“How did you know about the dent in Charlie’s truck?” I whispered. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Do you know him?”
“Yes, I know Charlie,” Mom said, “but I had no idea he had a little sister.”
We stopped. Mr. Terupt’s door was cracked open, but not enough for me to see inside. Suddenly my worries and questions about Mom and Charlie vanished. They were quickly replaced by all my worries for Mr. Terupt. Was I ready for this? Danielle, Jessica, and I looked at each other and did our best to prepare for what was coming next.
Danielle
There was no turning back.
Dear God,
It’s Danielle. Please be with me. I’m going to need your help.
I guess I could have waited in the car, or in the lounge, but being with brave friends kept me moving forward.
Beep … beep. Cough. Cough. Hack. Hack. Hack. Moan … moan … groan.
The chorus of hospital noises made me cringe. I felt my shoulders pushing into my ears. We walked past an old lady sitting in the hallway. She was shaking and drooling in her wheelchair. I could hear Grandma saying, “You better put me in the ground before you send me off to one of them places with all those droolin’ geezers.” For a second, I laughed inside, thinking of that, but just for a second.
We stopped. The sign on the door said TERUPT. The door was partially open, but I couldn’t see inside. That’s probably a good thing, because I may have run back to the car had I seen what Mr. Terupt looked like. The three of us nodded at each other silently. We were ready. Or so we thought.
This is when I’ll need you most.
Jessica
Act 9, Scene 3
Action.
Mr. Terupt’s door stood slightly ajar, so I slowly pushed it open and stepped into his room. He wasn’t alone, but he didn’t have a roommate. He had a visitor: Alexia.
I stopped. Danielle and Anna saw her, too. We all stopped. Alexia was by Mr. Terupt’s bed, her back to us. She didn’t know we were there. I could hear her talking to him.
“Like, I’ve been trying to be nice, Teach. I’ve been quiet. I don’t know, like, what else to do. I haven’t been mean. You’d be happy about that, Teach. I’ve been doing it your way. But, like, I still need your help. I need you to come back. Everyone needs you back.”
I stood right beside Alexia now, but she remained unaware. She buried her face in Mr. Terupt’s bed and sobbed. I looked at my teacher. He rested peacefully in his white bedsheets amid tubes going in and out of his body, and screens with green numbers and lines on them, and beeping noises. I felt him telling me what to do.
I reached out and placed my hand on Alexia’s back.
She lifted her head and looked at me through her tear-filled eyes. I started crying then, too. Alexia stood up and we hugged. A big hug.
“I’m so sorry,” s
he said.
I felt her squeeze me tight. “Me too,” I said.
“I’ve never been to California,” she blubbered. “My mom threw my dad out of the house last year. He never got sick.”
Alexia sobbed into my shoulder. I squeezed her tight now. Through choked tears I said, “My dad’s not around, either. He’s still in California with his girlfriend.”
We held the hug. Not with lazy arms, but strong arms. We squeezed all our sorries out in that hug. When we let go, Alexia hugged Danielle and Anna just the same. Tears filled all our eyes now, even my mom’s and Terri’s.
We sat in chairs next to Mr. Terupt’s bed. We sat on both sides and said nothing. I placed my book on the stand next to his bed. Anna put her plant by the window, and Danielle tacked her sketch to a wall. We thought our own thoughts and stared at our teacher, who lay motionless with his eyes closed. Yet somehow I felt better. The power of Mr. Terupt, even in his coma, made something huge transpire. I felt light, like I could float. The past had been buried and we were ready to move forward.
When it came time to leave, I touched Mr. Terupt’s hand and whispered, “Thank you.” Then I walked out with my three friends.