Miss Lydia Fairbanks and the Losers Club

by Duane L. Ostler

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Silence reigned at Inner City Junior High School. The students were still in attendance and classes proceeded as normal, but there was silence nonetheless. There was amazing, impossible silence in the halls as students passed quietly to their various classes. Usually there were screams, shouts and acts of brutality in these halls. The transformation was astounding.

  There was silence in the classrooms while students studied from their books, wrote out their various papers and assignments, or (in the case of most students) stared stupidly out the windows, doing nothing. Usually there was chaos, profanity and endless bullying in these classes. Once more, the transformation was unbelievable.

  There was silence on the school grounds as students traveled to and from school. There was silence on the buses which normally were more dangerous to ride in than a walk in Central Park after midnight. There was silence in the lunch room as students grimaced while eating a variety of foods they could not always identify. In all his ten years at Inner City Junior High School, Principal Clyde had never seen anything quite like this.

  There was silence everywhere, and for good reason. In a hospital a few miles away, Miss Lydia Fairbanks was fighting for her life and everyone knew it.

  Most of the kids at Inner City Junior High School were not the praying type. But what had happened to Miss Fairbanks changed this. As the students silently went about their business, if they weren't praying they were certainly wishing with all their hearts that by some miracle she would pull through.

  The details of Miss Fairbank's knife wound were grisly. Most of the attending physicians considered it a miracle she had even arrived at the hospital alive. The majority of them shook their heads grimly when asked about her chances for survival, and refused to say a word. Perhaps most telling of all, the hospital admissions office chose to place her in the ward that was most frequently visited by the local morgue. The exit was closer and handier for them to remove the bodies of those whose sojourn on earth had ended. It was widely assumed by many that Miss Fairbanks would soon be joining them.

  Hospital staff were mystified by the attraction the frail, little woman seemed to have on a never ending stream of youth. Morning, mid-day and evening, young, school-aged teens came to visit in large numbers. They were not allowed to see her of course. They simply milled around outside her room, moody, grim-faced and silent. So many flowers were brought for her that a special flower cart had to be arranged outside her door to receive them all. From the look of some of the young people who brought them, there was little doubt many of the flowers were not obtained in a legal way. But they were brought nonetheless.

  Two men sat grimly outside her door, day and night. One was old and slight, stooped with age and sporting grey hair and a small bald spot at the top of his head. His arm was bandaged and it was obvious he should have been home recovering in his own bed rather than risking his recovery by staying here. The other man was built like a tank, easily dwarfing his comrade. He rarely moved or spoke. Mostly he just sat and stared emptily into space. Once in awhile he would pull out a worn piece of paper from his pocket and look at it. Then with a sigh he would fold it up and put it back again, returning to his endless staring.

  It was the business letter he had written on his first day in Miss Fairbanks' class.

  On the morning of the third day, the attending doctor reported to Miss Fairbanks' room as normal. Her condition appeared to be the same--critical condition, 24 hour monitoring by staff, check-ups every hour. With gentle, trained hands, he examined the wound and then checked her vital signs. He sat for some time examining the data before him. When he came out of her room he found three men waiting for him there. Principal Clyde had come down to check on her progress, which he did several times a day.

  "Well?" said all three men at once. The doctor looked at them for a moment, then said, "It may be too early to tell, but it seems her vital signs have improved slightly. We'll be monitoring the situation, and will keep you posted." He then quickly walked away, ignoring the other questions they fired at him, since such questions were unknown and unanswerable.

  News of the possible good turn swiftly reached the school. Students started to leave en masse, heading for the hospital. Their departure was not authorized of course, and when Principal Clyde returned to the school and was made aware of it he instructed Mrs. Jenkins to make the usual 'sluff' calls to parents. But as the number of sluffers increased to more than half the school, he was forced to have her stop. It was obvious the students were not dodging school out of laziness. They were simply heading to the hospital in the hope that somehow their collective presence would help Miss Fairbanks in her recovery.

  The city news desk somehow got wind of what was going on, and a reporter and camera crew were dispatched. Usually the opportunity of celebrity status from being on the news would have turned these teenagers into a rowdy bunch of yelling attention-getters. To the amazement of this news crew however, they found themselves largely ignored. They performed a quick investigation and learned the unthinkable, astounding fact that this throng of students was from none other than Inner City Junior High School, which had the reputation of being the toughest, most brutal school in the state. And equally unheard of, the students had come en masse, openly sluffing their classes, to honor a tiny, weak little teacher who obviously lacked the capacity to handle such rough, unreachable students. Even more amazing, this ridiculous teacher had organized something called the 'loser's club' at the school, which seemed to be highly regarded in spite of its hideous name. In fact, several of the students were proudly wearing buttons that said either "I'm one of Miss Fairbanks' losers" or simply "I'm a loser." The buttons had been invented and quickly distributed since the stabbing (This was Heather's idea).

  In short, the story was instant news gold, since it told something so unusual it was almost unbelievable.

  The silent vigil of milling, swarming students (who made it very difficult for hospital staff to perform their duties) continued on into the evening. For awhile in fact it looked like it might go on all night, and a large number of annoyed parents started calling the equally annoyed police in droves.

  But then the official news came from the attending doctor. Miss Fairbanks had definitely improved. Her condition had finally stabilized after three days. She would live!

  The mood among the milling students at the hospital was euphoric. There was so much noise and pandemonium the police had to be called to break up the cheering, back-slapping, yelling students. Families of other dying patients in the ward were appalled. But for the first time in three days many of the students, as well as the two men who had kept vigil at her door, were able to go home and sleep at last. And the 10:00 o'clock evening news had a rare happy report for its viewers, rather than the usual stream of robberies, murders and mayhem.

  The change in mood at Inner City Junior High School the next day was truly astounding. Where before the somber mood had made the school seem like a morgue, now it was a madhouse. As hard as it usually was for teachers to keep order in their classrooms, today it was impossible. Fortunately however, the teachers didn't mind since they were as happy at Miss Fairbanks' improvement as the students.

  Principal Clyde was giddy with relief and pleasure that he hadn't lost another one of his teachers. He was so happy that his lumbago didn't hurt as bad as usual, and he didn't grumble like normal when he had to substitute in all of Miss Fairbanks' classes for the entire day, since he couldn't find a substitute. And for once the students treated him with marginal respect. Each class wildly carried on with the prosecution of the 'B' Hall smoocher case, largely ignoring Principal Clyde's presence in the classroom as they empanelled a jury and made their arguments to the court. It was one of the most pleasurable and relaxing days Principal Clyde had ever experienced at Inner City Junior High School, as he watched students he normally considered hopeless and worthless making impressive arguments to the jury about the guilt or innocence of the smoocher.

  Although Miss
Fairbanks was definitely on the mend, she still had not regained consciousness. The constant stream of students who came to see her--including Brent Llewelyn--were all unhappily turned away. Mr. Fairbanks and Mr. Brek resumed their vigil outside her door, waiting for her to waken.

  And on the morning of the fifth day, she did! As she slowly opened her blurry eyes, she found herself looking into the face of the man who had so long haunted her dreams. It was the luck of Mr. Fairbanks that a nurse had let Mr. Fairbanks into his daughter's room where he could sit and just hold her hand. The nurse had let him do this twice before, and he always jumped at the chance when it was offered to him.

  The older man's eyes were moist as he held his daughter's hand and looked deeply into her eyes. "Oh, Lydia! I'm so glad you're alive! I was so worried!" Before she could respond tears sprang to his eyes, and he said pleadingly, "Will you ever forgive me for what happened twenty years ago? I didn't mean to do it! I was drunk and didn't know what I was doing. I didn't mean to pull the trigger! I didn't even realize the gun was loaded! I would never knowingly have hurt her or you! Will you ever forgive me? Will you ever forgive me?"

  Miss Fairbanks smiled weakly. "It's all right father," she said in a faint voice. "I understand what happened. Of course I forgive you. How could I not forgive you after you just saved my life? And after all, I was the one who caused what happened twenty years ago."

  Mr. Fairbanks was weeping unashamedly, but looked up at her in surprise. "But, Lydia, you didn't do anything wrong!" he exclaimed. "You didn't cause it! What made you think you did?"

  Miss Fairbanks looked at him, a puzzled expression on her face. "You and mother were arguing about me," she said simply. "It never would have happened if not for me."

  "Lydia, that's foolishness!" cried her father. "You didn’t pull the trigger--I did. You didn't want it to happen and you didn't cause it to happen! Oh, my little one, you should never think you were the cause. It wasn't you. It wasn't you."

  Unable to speak further, he could do little more than make Miss Fairbanks' bedding soggy with his tears, and tenderly stroke her hand while she continued to stare at him with a confused look on her face.

  "But it had to have been me," she said softly. "You were just provoked. That's why I couldn't write to you all those years, and tried to believe you'd died. I provoked you and betrayed you and killed you too--"

  "That's not true!" cried Mr. Fairbanks, startling Lydia with his abruptness. "You didn't provoke me, little one. I don't remember any such thing at all! It wasn't you that caused it. It just simply wasn't."

  Miss Fairbanks looked at her father for a long moment, as if a thick fog was lifting from her mind. The idea that she was the cause had lived so long in her mind that it could not be expelled easily. Finally she whispered, "Perhaps who caused it isn't the issue, father. Perhaps all that matters now is to forgive. And I forgive you, if you will forgive me--"

  "Oh, Lydia, I forgive you!" cried her father. "Even though there's nothing that I need to forgive you for. I only hope you can forgive me!" He was weeping so hard his shirt collar was permanently stained.

  Miss Fairbanks smiled weakly. "Forgiveness," she said simply. "That's what we need, isn't it, father? We forgive each other, and we forgive ourselves. We don't hold anyone at fault anymore, not even ourselves. And then we do more than that. We forget too. We both forgive AND forget. And then it is no more."

  Mr. Fairbanks could not reply, but continued to hold his daughter's hand in a death grip. They remained like that for quite some time, father and daughter finally reunited after the tragedy that had torn them apart seemingly forever. Neither spoke, since words were needless. The peace that finally rested between them seemed deeper than life itself.

  Finally a nurse entered, and upon seeing Miss Fairbanks awake quickly grabbed Mr. Fairbanks by the shoulders and steered him from the room. "She needs her rest," she said gently to the still weeping man. But just as she succeeded at getting the old gentleman out, Mr. Brek slipped in. With two quick steps of his large legs he was at her side.

  "Miss Fairbanks!" he said with a smile. "My oldest and dearest friend! It's good to see you alive!"

  Miss Fairbanks smiled. "Thank you for saving me," she said softly. Then she added, "You are my oldest and dearest friend, you know. And because we're such old friends, you should start calling me Lydia. And I should start calling you ..." She looked up at him curiously. "I don't believe I ever caught your first name."

  Mr. Brek looked suddenly very self conscious. "Yes, well ..." he stammered. "It's not a name I give out much ..." She looked at him expectantly, and he knew there was no way to avoid it. "It's Throckmorton," he said, wincing as he said it. "I don't know what my parents were thinking. All through school I was known as Throck the jock."

  Miss Fairbanks was still smiling. "I like that name," she said. "Throckmorton. Very substantial. It fits you."

  A big, goofy grin spread over Mr. Brek's face, and he now started fidgeting so badly with his hands that he nearly knocked Miss Fairbanks IV apparatus over. Meanwhile the nurse had returned and shooed him from the room. And she wasn't as nice about doing it as she'd been with Mr. Fairbanks. "Get out, you big lumox!" she said, pushing at Mr. Brek, trying to get him to the door. It was like a feather trying to push a boulder, and the nurse started pounding the big man with her fists. Mr. Brek apparently didn't even feel it. He gave Miss Fairbanks one last silly smile, then fled from the room.

  The next few days were among the most difficult the hospital staff had ever experienced. There was a constant stream of visitors to see Miss Fairbanks. Students came in droves, and some of them wouldn't leave until hospital security was called. Flowers continued to arrive in such numbers that a second and third flower cart had to be obtained. A large number of these flowers were from Mr. Brek, who all the nurses had renamed "Lumox." News reporters also seemed to be constantly prying around, trying to keep the story alive by interviewing anyone who would talk, and trying like mad to get an interview with Miss Fairbanks. She was appalled at their presence and steadfastly refused to talk to any of them.

  To the surprise of Miss Fairbanks' doctor, one of the first people she asked about after regaining consciousness was her attacker, Mr. Sage. Bizarre as it sounded, she was worried whether he'd survived being thrown against the wall by Mr. Brek. "After all," she pointed out to the dumfounded doctor, "he was drunk at the time and didn't exactly know what he was doing. That's not an excuse for his behavior of course, but I do hope he's all right." The doctor assured her he was alive and well (but with two cracked ribs), and was in custody.

  Brent Llewelyn visited her the next day. He appeared at her door suddenly, and entered the room quiet as a mouse.

  "It's good to see you again, Brent," said Miss Fairbanks with a smile as the boy came into the room. For some reason his brow was creased in a frown, as he slowly approached his teacher's bedside. Looking into his eyes, Miss Fairbanks could see that something was wrong.

  "What is it?" she asked in concern, trying to rise, then sinking down in pain. "You're not in trouble are you? You're not moving away?"

  Brent shook his head. "No, nothin' like that," he said slowly. His eyes looked tormented as he gazed down at his teacher's bandaged frame. Suddenly before she could say anything he blurted, "It's all my fault! This whole thing was because of me! You never should have spoken to me that first day after class! Then none of this would have happened!"

  "Brent!" said Miss Fairbanks in surprise. "How can you say such a thing? You're one of my very best friends! I'm extremely grateful I spoke to you that day, and got to know you."

  "Yeah, well I'm not," said Brent with a scowl. His eyes were very moist, and he couldn't seem to bring himself to look Miss Fairbanks in the eye. "I'm the cause of it all. Burt never would have attacked you if it hadn't been for me."

  "Oh, Brent, you've got it all wrong!" said Miss Fairbanks. "I've learned recently that when something bad like this happens, we should never blame ourselves for it or assume it w
as our fault. While we may have some influence on other people around us, what each person does in the end is their own, unique choice. You clearly had no intent to harm me, so how can you possibly be blamed for any harm caused by someone else? Besides, regardless of what we or others do, and regardless of who is at fault, we have to forgive and move on. Blaming just keeps wounds open, while forgiveness heals. You did nothing wrong at all. And anyway, it turned out all right in the end. I'll be back to school soon, with no harm done."

  Brent looked at her with forlorn eyes. "You're really going to be ok?" he asked in a pleading voice.

  "Absolutely," said Miss Fairbanks. "They're treating me very well here, and I'm getting stronger every day. My only regret is that it's taking so long to get better. I miss my students, and I miss our after school club meetings."

  "Yeah, the loser's club still meets every day after school," said Brent with a slight smile. "The first days you were in here, most of the school showed up, and we had to meet in the lunch room. Jared makes sure everybody keeps the rules."

  "How is Jared?" asked Miss Fairbanks. "He was very brave that day, in trying to protect us all."

  "He's just as tough and mean as ever," said Brent. "But in a good way. He's never mean to any loser club members."

  Miss Fairbanks frowned. "I still don't like the sound of that name very much. The loser's club, of all things! I really think we ought to change it."

  "Are you kidding?" said Brent. He suddenly pulled a button out of his pocket. It was bright red and said happily "I'm a Loser!"

  "My stars!" cried Miss Fairbanks, who had not seen one of the buttons before. "Who on earth thought up such a thing?"

  "Heather," said Brent. "Everyone's wearing them--even Armpit Arnold! So you can't change the club name now." Miss Fairbanks smiled faintly.

  "And you should see how many more comic characters there are on the walls of your room!" said Brent. "You can't even see the real walls anymore. Even Principal Clyde put one up, of his favorite comic character Mr. Wilson, from 'Dennis the Menace.' He says he feels just like him most of the time."

  Suddenly Brent pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. "I finally finished my drawing for your wall too," he said. "Want to see it?"

  "I'd love to," said Miss Fairbanks with a happy smile. Slowly and carefully Brent smoothed the paper and held it out to her. "What do you think?" he asked.

  "Why it's lovely!" said Miss Fairbanks, looking intently at the picture of two cats that he was holding out to her. "But I don't remember any comic characters like this." She looked up at him. "Is one of these cats Isabel?"

  Brent grinned and nodded. "They both are. I have a new cat named Isabel! My Mom says it's ok now to have a cat, since Burt's gone. She's even come to like Isabel too, and pets her all the time. We got her from the shelter."

  Miss Fairbanks reached out a weak hand and took the picture. "I'll treasure it, Brent. It'll go on my wall right by my desk." He smiled at her gratefully.

  Miss Fairbanks' recovery was rapid, and to the relief of hospital staff in two weeks time it was announced that she would be released the next day. This caused a large stream of visitors and well wishers to come to her room, creating consternation among hospital staff. Finally out of exasperation a creative nurse put a sign on her door that she had been moved to another room, and that the new occupant of the room had the black plague. The visits stopped abruptly.

  Miss Fairbanks was sleeping peacefully that evening, a slight smile etched across her lips, when there was a scuffle at the door. Shreds of sleep dissipated from her mind like fog in the morning sun, as she heard a series of raised voices by people just outside her door.

  "You can't go in, you big lumox! Miss Fairbank has been moved. Do you want to catch the black plague?"

  "I know she's in there! I've been here almost constantly for the last 24 hours and I know she never came out that door! So unless you tossed her out the window, she's in there!"

  "Well, whether she's in there or not, you can't go in! Mabel, Clarice, come quick! The lumox is trying to get in!"

  "I've GOT to see her! It's IMPORTANT!"

  "Whatever it is can wait! She needs to sleep well before going back to that horrible neighborhood and school where she lives and works. Now get out of here!" This was followed by the sound of fists beating on thick flesh.

  "But I've GOT to see her. I can't wait until tomorrow!"

  "Do we have to call security, you big dummy! Go away! Shoo! Be gone!" More sounds of fists beating on flesh.

  "I can't wait! I have something to give her."

  "What could you possibly have to give her that's worth all this fuss, you big oaf?" Yet more sounds of fists on flesh.

  "THIS is what I have to give her!!"

  The beating of fists on flesh stopped abruptly, and there was a moment of silence. This was followed by:

  "My stars!"

  "Oh, my goodness!"

  "Well, I'll be …"

  By this time Miss Fairbanks had become thoroughly engrossed in the conversation, and was beside herself at not being able to see whatever Mr. Brek was showing the nurses.

  "Well girls, what do you think? Should we let him in? It is against the rules, you know." Unintelligible mumbling continued for a minute, and then the door suddenly clicked open.

  "Mr. Brek!" said Miss Fairbanks as the big bouncer entered the room, followed by three nurses. These were the very nurses who usually had cross looks on their faces whenever he was around, but for some reason they now looked like giddy little school girls. One of them actually giggled in a very un-nurse-like way, while the other two wore smiles so big it looked like their faces would crack.

  "What on earth is going on?" asked Miss Fairbanks in alarm, fearful that somehow Mr. Brek had tricked the nurses into taking a swig of something alcoholic he had brought from his bar.

  "Oh … nothing, Lydia," said Mr. Brek in an unusually high-pitched voice that sounded almost like that of a five-year-old girl. Miss Fairbanks' eyes opened wide. Had he been drinking too?

  "I have something to give you," he said in the same squeaky, high-pitched voice. Then he casually tossed something on the bed in front of Lydia.

  "How crass!" cried one of the nurses, suddenly frowning. "Tossing it on the bed!"

  "Just like a lumux, to do it that way!" cried another angrily.

  Mr. Brek turned and shooed the annoyed nurses from the room. "This is private, ladies," he said fiercely. To Miss Fairbanks' surprise, they didn't start hitting him again, nor did they try to come in after he'd shut the door.

  Miss Fairbanks looked down at the object that had been tossed on her blanket. It was a box of M&M candies.

  She smiled up at him. "You didn't need to bring me more candies, Throckmorton," she said. "I think I've gained five pounds from all you've brought me over the last week!"

  "Open it!" said Mr. Brek, his voice continuing in the high-pitched, girly squeak. He was wringing his hands and had started to sweat even though it was rather cool in the room.

  "What on earth …?" said Miss Fairbanks as she opened the box and poured its contents on the blanket. No candies came out, but a gold ring with a large diamond did.

  "Mr. Throckmorton!" cried Miss Fairbanks nonsensically, her eyes opening wide.

  Mr. Brek swung down on one knee, grabbed Miss Fairbanks tiny hand and said in a rush, "Lydia, I know you want to just be friends and nothing more. And I haven't forgotten what you said about how there's nothing between us. But I was wondering if a couple of friends with nothing between them could maybe get married."

  There was a moment of total silence as Miss Fairbanks stared up at Mr. Brek, her eyes filling with tears. Then she suddenly rose up (somewhat painfully) and gave him a kiss.

  "I believe that could work, Mr. Brek Throckmorton," she gibbered. Suddenly she realized he was starting to look rather blurry, as her eyes gushed over.

  And from the door, three watching nurses smiled happily. "The lumox did all right," said one of them. The
other two just nodded in agreement.

  The next day, Miss Fairbanks was released from the hospital. Mr. Brek's smile was so wide as he pushed her wheelchair out to a waiting car that it looked like half of the grand canyon had transplanted itself to his face. The majority of the students from Inner City Junior High were there to meet her as she emerged from the hospital, and they let up such a cheer that every sleeping resident of the hospital was grumpily roused from restful slumber. Every one of the waiting students was sporting one of the shiny, red "I'm a Loser!" buttons, and several of them (Heather, Melvin and Ella as it turned out) were holding up a big banner that read "Congratulations Miss Fairbanks--soon to be Mrs. Brek!" News of the engagement had swept through the student body like a wave on a sandy beach, and everyone now knew for sure that no one would ever say anything unkind to their writing teacher, or even dare to call her "ugly," if they wanted to keep their skulls intact.

  Not surprisingly, Miss Fairbanks was determined to return to her classes at Inner City Junior High School without delay. But of course, doctor's orders insisted that she not do so for another week, since she was required to rest no matter how much she didn't want to. The visits to her run-down little apartment by Mr. Brek, her father, Principal Clyde and a stream of students helped greatly to pass the time, although they were also a great annoyance to her landlady. Mr. Brek was the most frequent visitor, bringing so many flowers that the landlady started to complain the apartment smelled like a perfume shop. And as the day for Miss Fairbanks to return to school approached, the big oaf started acting downright giddy, as if he had a grand secret he was unwilling to share with anyone. Poor Miss Fairbanks could not imagine what further surprise he could possibly be keeping from her.

  And then the blessed day arrived. As Miss Fairbanks approached the front doors of Inner City Junior High School, she was surprised to see modern, metal detector booths at all the entrance doors, designed to prevent guns and knives from being brought into the school.

  "And it's all because of you, Miss Fairbanks!" said a smiling Principal Clyde as he greeted her. "You'll be happy to know that the publicity from your stabbing and near death finally accomplished one of my long-standing budget requests! It's guaranteed to make the school a whole lot safer!"

  "Well then," Miss Fairbanks replied giddily, "I'll try to get stabbed more often."

  Principal Clyde suddenly looked very grave as the blood drained from his face. "Please promise me you WON'T do that!" he said earnestly.

  A throng of milling students in the entrance foyer nearly deafened Miss Fairbanks as she came into the building. A large banner stretched above the hall which proclaimed in large red letters, "Welcome Home Miss Fairbanks!!" She looked around shyly, and was extremely embarrassed by all the attention. She was touched that once again almost every student was wearing one of the new "I'm a loser" buttons, which had become quite fashionable. She had no doubt the loser club after school today would need to meet in the lunch room.

  The students clapped for her all the way to her classroom. At her entrance door was a smiling Mr. Brek--and to Miss Fairbanks shock he was wearing sweats and a T-shirt!

  "I'm the new gym coach!" he beamed at her as she looked up at him in surprise. "Couldn't stand outside a bar for the rest of my life!"

  So that was his grand surprise! A smiling Principal Clyde was standing next to his new monster coach. "Since I hired him, my gout has got a lot better!" he said happily.

  The applause continued as Miss Fairbanks entered her first period class. All the regulars were there, of course. Armpit Arnold, Slapface, the girl with tattoo ears, the boy with purple hair. They were anxious to tell her the outcome of the 'B' Hall smoocher trial--in which purple hair had been found guilty! (And he admitted it, too)

  Miss Fairbanks stood smiling in shy embarrassment in front of the classroom as the roar gradually subsided. Then as her students and the onlookers from the door watched expectantly, she threw her arms wide in one of her well-known needless gestures. "Today I feel just like Bilbo Baggins returning to the shire," she said happily. "And all I can say is what another hobbit said at the end of the Lord of the Rings--"

  "Well, I'm back!'"

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  Fifth grader Blake Drywater has a new wizard science teacher, who promptly turns Blake's class into roaches and earthworms. But Blake soon learns there is more than science going on in his classroom. An evil wizard is seeking a powerful potion his teacher has made. And when Blake is given the potion soon thereafter, he finds himself facing problems far harder than any science exam! Book 1 of 'The Stewards of Light' series.

  My Math Teacher is a Vampire

  Blake Drywater and his fellow unfortunate students at Millard Fillmore Middle School once more find themselves facing an unexpected creature in one of their classes. Because of a sudden 'neck disorder' suffered by their math teacher, Blake and his classmates receive a chilling substitute. His name is Mr. Coagulate, who has a strange fascination with blood and dreams. Book 2 of 'The Stewards of Light' series.

  Detectives in Diapers: They Mystery of the Aztec Amulet

  Flo and Mo are not ordinary babies. Although they are only fourteen months old, they can use a computer, trick any mindless adult they want, and help their goofy detective father solve baffling crimes. Then a mysterious girl comes to their father, claiming that her grandmother has disappeared. Will the babies' superior brains be able to solve the mystery and save their bumbling parents?

  Cloud Trouble

  Inventor Uncle Ned has discovered that clouds are alive and can be transformed into common objects. He gives his nephew Talmage a cloud turned into a pen, with the assignment to see what it says and does. However, Talmage soon learns that THIS cloud is nothing but trouble since it insults everyone they meet! And since no one believes pens can talk, they think Talmage is the one saying the insults!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Duane L. Ostler was raised in Southern Idaho, where the wind never stops. He has lived in Australia, Mexico, Brazil, China, the big Island of Hawaii, and—most foreign of all—New Jersey. He has driven an ice cream truck, sold auto parts, been a tax collector, and sued people as an attorney. He has also obtained a PhD in legal history. He and his wife have five children. If you would like to contact Mr. Ostler you can reach him at: mailto:[email protected]