Justine McKeen, Walk the Talk (2 page)
Michael silently mouthed the word
Sorry
.
“Much better,” Jimmy Blatzo said.
“Hey, Blatzo,” Justine said. “What's the deal with the substitute teacher? Why don't you want him to know you're in the hallway?”
“You'll find out,” Jimmy Blatzo told her. “And quit calling me Blatzo.”
“Sure.” Justine walked toward her classroom. Then she turned back. “Hey, Blatzo. What do you think of my hat?”
“A bird,” he said. “You always dress weird.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” she said. “I like it too.”
The substitute teacher's name was Mr. Barnes. He was tall and skinny and had long stringy hair. He wore a black T-shirt with the name of a rock band on it.
The bell rang, and all the students sat down. Mr. Barnes sat behind his desk. He pointed at Justine. “Put your hat in a cage before it flies away,” he said.
Justine put her hat under her desk.
“That was funny,” he said to the class. “Why aren't you laughing?”
“She is our friend,” Safdar said. “It's not nice to make fun of the way she dresses.”
Mr. Barnes stood. He glared at Safdar. “What is your name?”
“Michael,” Safdar said. “If you have to put a red mark beside my name, I will understand.”
Now the class laughed.
That made Mr. Barnes angrier. “What's so funny?”
Michael put up his hand. “I am Michael.”
“Hah, hah,” Mr. Barnes said. “Sure. Very funny.”
Mr. Barnes sat down and opened a newspaper. “It is silent reading time. Yesterday you read chapter one. Today read chapter two. And keep quiet.”
Then Mr. Barnes made a loud noise. It was the kind of noise that happens when a person's body lets out some gas. It was an F-A-R-T-I-N-G noise.
The class started laughing again.
“Enough!” Mr. Barnes said.
As soon as the class was quiet, Mr. Barnes made the same noise, an F-A-R-T-I-N-G noise, except in a higher pitch. It sounded like someone had stepped on a duck.
The class laughed louder.
“Enough!” Mr. Barnes roared. He reached under his chair and pulled out a small machine with a tiny speaker. It had been taped under his seat. He looked at it, and it made another loud, rude noise, an F-A-R-T-I-N-G noise.
On the side of the machine, white letters spelled two words:
Farting Machine
.
“Whoever did this is going straight to the principal,” he yelled at the class. “Otherwise, everyone in the class has extra homework.”
Justine McKeen stood up. She put on her hat. “You can send me to the principal,” she said.
“What's your name?” Mr. Barnes asked.
“Justine McKeen,” she said.
“The Queen of Green!” said Safdar.
“Well, now she's the Queen of In Trouble With the Principal. Go to the office right now. I will be there in a minute to explain what happened.”
Justine sat on a chair outside the open door to the principal's office. She heard the janitor, Mr. Noble, talking to the principal.
“Ms. Booth, I have a problem. In this school there are girls who put on lipstick and then kiss the mirrors in the girls' bathrooms,” Mr. Noble said. “They leave big smooch marks on the mirrors.”
“Smooch marks?” Ms. Booth said.
“Smooch marks. In all shades of colors,” said Mr. Noble.
“Well,” she said, “it's probably better to kiss mirrors than to kiss boys.”
“You may think it's funny. But I don't. After school every day it takes over half an hour to wipe the lipstick off the mirrors. That stuff is not easy to remove. Can't you do something?”
“I will give it some thought,” Ms. Booth said. “How is it going with the hole in the roof?”
“You mean where the roof garden was?”
“We've been through this, George. It was my fault. I did tell Justine I thought it was a good idea. A roof gets lots of sunshine, and it's not a place rabbits or deer can get at. I just didn't expect she would go ahead with it.”
“Face it,” Mr. Noble said. “That girl is weird. You should see the hat she wore today.”
“I'm out here!” Justine said from her chair. “And the hat matches my dress perfectly. It's to remind people about birds and to not harm them.”
“I like the way you dress,” Ms. Booth called out to Justine. “It reminds me of a flower child from the peace movement.”
“Thanks. That's what my grammy says,” Justine said.
Mr. Barnes stormed into the room. He was holding the Farting Machine. He marched past Justine in to Ms. Booth's office.
“Thanks for knocking,” Ms. Booth said.
“That girl out there taped this under my chair,” Mr. Barnes said. “Justine Queen Green, or whatever her name is.”
“I'm not surprised,” Mr. Noble said. “I'm telling you. The girl is weird.”
“George, that's enough,” Ms. Booth said. “And Mr. Barnes, what are you holding?”
“It makes sounds,” he said.
“What kind of sounds?” asked Ms. Booth.
“Going-to-the-bathroom sounds,” said Mr. Barnes. “Like thisâ”
Justine heard an F-A-R-T-I-N-G noise. She hoped Mr. Barnes had made the noise with his mouth.
“I see,” Ms. Booth said. “And you say that Justine McKeen put it under your chair.”
“She confessed. I demand you punish her!”
“And it would be nice if you did something about the smooch marks,” Mr. Noble said. “Maybe that was Justine's idea too. Smooching mirrors to save the planet.”
“Smooch marks?” Mr. Barnes said. “What kind of school is this?”
Justine heard Ms. Booth sigh. “Goodbye, gentlemen.”
Both of them stomped out of the principal's office and stopped to glare at Justine.
“You are a weird, weird girl,” Mr. Noble said to Justine. “With weird, weird ideas.”
Then they stomped out into the hall. It was Justine's turn to talk to Ms. Booth.
“I see these more often than you might guess,” Ms. Booth said. She was holding the speaker that Mr. Barnes had found under his desk. “It's a remote-control farting machine. I take them away from Jimmy Blatzo all the time. He gets a new one whenever he can save enough money. I happen to think they are funny. But only when it's appropriate. Do you think it's appropriate to tape one under a teacher's chair?”
“No,” said Justine.
“Why did you do it?” Ms. Booth asked.
Justine didn't answer.
“Well,” Ms. Booth said, “at least tell me where the remote control is. I'll need to take that from you too.”
“Um,” said Justine.
“You don't have the remote control, do you?”
“Um,” Justine said again.
“That's what I thought,” Ms. Booth said. “You don't even know it needs a remote. This doesn't seem like the type of thing you would do. So the question is, why did you confess to doing it if you didn't?”
“Mr. Barnes said everyone would get punished if no one stood up. So I thought I would save everyone else from trouble. Plus, Mr. Barnes said he would send whoever did it to the principal. I thought it would be a good way to get to talk to you. I've been trying to meet with you, but the secretary keeps telling me you are too busy.”
“Oh.”
“Are you too busy to talk to me because you are mad about my idea for a garden on the roof?”
“I admit it seems like every day you try to bring me an idea to help the school go green. Remember, I asked you to write them down instead of coming to see me all the time?”
“Did you read the letters I sent you?”
Ms. Booth grabbed the first three letters off the pile. “Not all of them.”
“That's why I wanted to see you. I have a really, really good idea this time. Could you listen to just one more? Please?”
Ms. Booth smiled and nodded. “If it was important enough to take the blame for something you didn't do, I suppose I should hear what you have to say. What is your next idea?”