Because of Mr. Terupt (12 page)

“And then he’ll be okay?”

“If it works—hopefully, yes.”

I heard the word
if
loud and clear. “And
if
it doesn’t?” I said.

“Brain surgery is risky. There’s always a chance the patient won’t recover.”

“You mean die,” I said. Mom put her arm around me.

“What’s your name, son?”

“Luke.”

“Yes, Luke. Your teacher could die during or as a result of the surgery. But I’m going to do my very best not to let that happen.”

I got up and stood by Mr. Terupt’s bed. I looked at him.

Dr. Wilkins got up and stood next to me. “He’s a pretty special teacher, isn’t he?” the doc said.

I could only nod. Speaking would have made me cry like a baby.

“I’ll do my best, Luke. That much I can promise.” He squeezed my shoulder and left the room.

Brain surgery, I thought. Mr. Terupt might never come back.

I ran out into the hall. “Dr. Wilkins!” I yelled. He turned around. “Does anyone else in my class know what you told me?”

Dr. Wilkins walked back toward me. “We didn’t know anything about his concussions at first,” he said, “but another teacher, Ms. Newberry, was able to provide us with Mr. Terupt’s background information. I guess Mr. Terupt had told her about his wrestling days, and it’s a good thing, because we have no other contact person for him.”

I stood there quiet. No other person … there was nobody for Mr. Terupt.

“But to answer your question, there is another student in your class who knows what I told you,” Dr. Wilkins said.

“Who?”

“I think he said his name was Peter.”

I was silent. Peter? I didn’t think Peter had been here. Dr. Wilkins turned to leave. “Wait,” I said. “Does Peter know about the concussions, or just that brain surgery is next?”

“Just about the brain surgery. Why do you ask?”

“Because Peter threw the snowball.”

A
ct 10, Scene 1

Mrs. Williams assumed responsibilities as our teacher. She recognized and acknowledged our
huge
mess, and that our feelings—despite our being just fifth graders—were very real. I respected Mrs. Williams for her courageous act, but it didn’t change a thing. Mr. Terupt still lay motionless inside the vast whiteness and beeping of that building. Our classroom remained as lifeless as our teacher. We needed Mr. Terupt back.

Things happen for a reason. That’s what I told Jeffrey. Did I believe that? Sometimes. What were the reasons for my dad leaving us? I haven’t figured that out yet. And what are the reasons for Mr. Terupt’s predicament? I’ve decided they’re different for everyone, and maybe not there at all for others. I see the reason for Alexia now. Without this
accident, I’m not sure she would have made it back as my friend. Without this accident, I bet Danielle never would have made it over to Anna’s house. But what about someone like Luke or Jeffrey? I don’t see any reason for either one of them. And I can’t find any reason for me.

T
he classroom persisted in
secreting
(dollar word)
unbroken
(dollar word) quietness. I stayed quiet, too, even though I had a lot bottled up inside me about Mr. Terupt’s brain surgery. Peter knew about it, but he didn’t have all the details. I know he blames himself. You can see it. Ever since the accident, he walks around like a mummy. He
should
be blaming himself. He threw the snowball. But if it had hit anyone other than Mr. Terupt, I don’t think we’d be experiencing a tragedy like this. That’s what Peter needs to know. It doesn’t make everything all better, but it might help ease his pain.

I can’t tell him, though. No one is talking to him. But that’s not why I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to find out
why
he threw that snowball.

I
t was springtime. I sat on the front porch with Grandma after church. She drank her coffee (black, because she’s tough) and I sipped some iced tea (unsweetened, because I hope to be tough like her). I love these moments with Grandma.

“There’s nothin’ like a New England spring, Danielle,” she said. “You endure the harsh winter, and because of that you learn how to really appreciate the new season.”

I knew what she was talking about. The snow had melted and the birds had flown back, singing and praising. Flowers popped up and buds appeared. The animals on the farm acted frisky. Time to rejoice. But I couldn’t, and Grandma noticed.

“I’ll bet you in other parts of this country, where there’s
no real winter, people miss out on spring,” Grandma said. “That’s just a shame.”

I nodded. This spring was different, though. My teacher still slept, and this weighed on me and sucked the happiness out of everything. I felt like I was still in my winter slumber.

“Danielle, let’s pray.” I bowed my head and closed my eyes. I figured Grandma was going to thank our God for the beautiful weather and the gift of spring. That would have been fine, but she took me by surprise.

“Dear God, Mr. Terupt needs you. Now, I don’t understand teachers these days, but I’ve come to realize that this Mr. Terupt is as good as they come. I’ve seen how he has touched my granddaughter and her friends. He’s special. You don’t need him up there yet. So you make sure you give him back to us real soon. Amen.”

Grandma had understood the important stuff. Her prayer made me feel better. I always feel better with Grandma on my side, even when she’s telling God what to do.

“Thank you, Grandma,” I said. “I love you.”

“I love you, sweetie. I’ll keep praying for him.”

I stayed in my winter slumber even after Grandma’s prayer. But then, unexpectedly, I startled awake. Not because of encouraging signs from Mr. Terupt, but because of Anna’s shocking news.

I
pumped my legs back and forth on the swings. I needed to get some momentum going so that I wasn’t just sitting with my feet dangling in the puddle below me. Danielle, Jessica, and Lexie sat on swings, too—Danielle right next to me. It was nice to be outside for recess again, now that the snow was gone.

“Charlie was at my house when I got home from school yesterday,” I said. Danielle’s pumping stopped. “Mom told me they were just sharing a cup of coffee and some conversation.” Danielle pumped slowly again, but she still didn’t say anything. “If Charlie marries my mom, what would that make us?” I went on. “Sisters!”

Danielle put her feet down and hopped off her swing. She
turned to face me. My pumping slowed. Was something wrong? She looked right at me.

“Anna, Charlie will never marry your mother,” Danielle said. “My family would never allow it.”

I stopped my swing. Jessica and Lexie stopped theirs, too. “Why?” I asked.

“My family …,” Danielle started to say, then her chin and voice lowered. “My family doesn’t approve of your mother.”

I felt like I’d just got run over by Charlie’s red truck. My whole body grew weak. “But my mom’s a good person,” I said.

“I know,” Danielle said. She scuffed the mud with her foot. “But it’s not that easy. If it weren’t for Mr. Terupt’s accident, I don’t think I would have ever been allowed to go over to your house.”

I learned something that day. Even after all this time, my mom was still ostracized for something that happened long ago. And because I had contributed to Mr. Terupt’s accident, I was going to pay for it the rest of my life.

A
ct 10, Scene 2

I discovered another reason for Mr. Terupt’s predicament the day Anna and Danielle and I were on the swings—a reason bigger than simply getting Danielle over to Anna’s house. That was only a start. Just like Mr. Terupt had helped Lexie reunite with Anna, Danielle, and me, I had to wonder if maybe Mr. Terupt’s accident was going to help Danielle’s family accept Anna and her mother. I hoped so.

B
oring day after boring day puttered by. Life was back to normal, where everything sucked. We all thought about the same thing, but never talked about it—not everybody together. Little groups whispered here and there, but that was it. I didn’t participate. Too many bad, scary memories. Then somethin’ happened to break the silence.

A
ct 10, Scene 3

Enter Miss Kelsey.

“I came up here today to share some news with all of you,” she said, a smile on her face. How could she smile at us like that? Didn’t she know? “James is going to be leaving school.”

More sad news, I thought. Great.

“This is wonderful for James. He’s been doing so well in school—he now has a chance to join a classroom like yours, in the town where he lives.”

We stayed quiet. I knew I was supposed to be happy for James, but I didn’t feel excited about anything right now. I think everyone felt the same way. Miss Kelsey started to look
puzzled. She didn’t understand our silence, but Mrs. Williams gave her an encouraging nod.

“The Collaborative Classroom would like to invite all of you to a surprise going-away party for James,” Miss Kelsey went on. “You’ve invited us to so much, and done so much for us, that we decided it was our turn to invite you to something. Plus, James loves you. You guys really made the difference. You’re the reason he’s improved and gets to move on.”

We made the difference. I felt good for a second, but then I thought about how none of this would have happened if it weren’t for Mr. Terupt. I couldn’t feel happy about anything. Not without my teacher.

M
iss Kelsey brought us good news, and it fired me up.

“James is leaving,” she said.

How was that supposed to be good news? Everybody I ended up likin’ I ended up losing. Why did I even bother tryin’?

W
e made our way down to the Collaborative Classroom. It was James’s surprise going-away party. I wanted to be happy for him, but it was so difficult.

Terrible/Worrisome News (Mr. Terupt) + Happy Party (James)
≠
Happy Luke

    Invasive species are organisms that are introduced into a new environment. Since they have no natural predators there, they thrive. They suck up all the resources, leaving nothing for the organisms that were there first. The native species suffer and die. Going down to the Collaborative Classroom, I was afraid that our whole class would act as the invasive species, sucking up all the happiness with our
sour attitudes. Lucky for us, the antidote was present at the party.

The lights clicked on.
“Surprise!”
we yelled when James walked in. His face beamed. I automatically smiled, too. And then it happened.

James walked over to Peter and gave him a hug that
shattered
(dollar word) his shield. Everybody stopped and watched. This was the first time any of us had really looked at Peter since the accident. We had each made the choice to make him invisible. But now we saw him.

James finally let go and stepped back. He looked into Peter’s eyes.

“Peter, not your fault. Not your fault.” James’s voice rose. “Peter!” Now he yelled. “Not your fault! Accident! Accident!”

The room was dead quiet, holding its breath. Peter began crying, softly at first, but then he lost it. His entire body shook with each sob.

I couldn’t be a silent onlooker any longer. I stepped forward.

“James is right, Peter,” I said. “It’s not all your fault.”

I told everyone about Mr. Terupt’s early concussions, and the bleeding, and the looming surgery.

“Besides,” I said, “Peter threw the snowball because of me.”

I cried now, too. Accepting responsibility can make you do that, I guess. I hugged Peter. Right there on the spot. I walked over and hugged my Elmer’s sneakers nemesis.

And then our crying classmates hugged us.

Thank you, James.

L
ike, isn’t it weird that Peter called them retards way back when Teach first told us that we were going to work with them? And then it was like, one of the “retards” that helped save Peter. We’re lucky some people are so full of goodness.

Like Jessica and Anna and Danielle. I was mean to them, but now they’re my friends again. I’m lucky. I was lonely without them.

I bet Peter was lonely, too. But like, none of us did anything about it until James said something. Then I felt bad for Peter. I gave him a hug. He didn’t deserve to be all alone.

It feels good being nice. I like it better than being the old Lexie. I hope Teach gets to see how he helped me.

T
hings happen for a reason. Jessica told me that.

I didn’t hate Peter. Even if I wasn’t smilin’ on the outside, he had me laughin’ on the inside a lot. He just liked to have fun, and the good fun went real bad on him that day in the snow. That’s all. It wasn’t all his fault. James told us that. James had more courage, more good heart in him than any of us “smart” kids.

I don’t know if James’s words alone woulda been enough, but then Cool Man Luke came to the rescue. Not just Peter’s rescue, but all our rescues. We needed to talk. Thanks to James and Luke, we started to.

Things happen for a reason
. I can’t find all the reasons. Did everything we did with the Collaborative Classroom
lead toward this moment? Is this why it all happened? Why did it have to be Peter? And why did it have to be our teacher in a coma? Was it so that I would learn that life isn’t fair sometimes? ’Cause I learned that a long time ago with Michael.

T
hings are working out, sort of. There’s been good news for James, Lexie’s back to being nice, and Peter’s part of our class again. But it’s hard to stay positive when Mr. Terupt is about to have brain surgery. I get scared when I think about it for too long, and I think about it all the time—that and my mom.

Danielle’s words crushed me. I didn’t get mad at her, though. In a way, I felt sorry for her. I know she wants to be my friend, but her family doesn’t want that to happen. That’s got to be hard. This time I talked to Mom about it as soon as I got home that day.