Because of Mr. Terupt (9 page)

“The chain has touched the floor,” Mr. Terupt announced. “It’s time for a free day.” My
colleagues
(dollar word)
and I were in for a treat. Mr. Terupt told us that we would be going outside. Great, I thought. But what’s the catch? Was he going to tell us to bring our
shovels
(dollar word) to find out how many scoops it would take to clear the parking lot? Nope. Just snow pants, hats, boots, and
mittens
(dollar word). We had the okay from Mrs. Williams to play in the snow as long as everyone had the proper snow clothes.

Jessica threw us the curveball. And boy, was it a bender. She didn’t have snow pants. Talk about hitting us with the unexpected.

So who comes to the rescue? Me. I had to. Plus, I liked Jessica. She was serious about school—and I didn’t want to miss the chance to
inoculate
(dollar word) Peter with a snowball.

“I
t’s not your fault.” That was what Jessica had said to me, and that was what I kept repeating in my head. The only other person to ever tell me that was Michael. It was just before he died. I have a hard time believin’ it, but his words still make me feel a little better.

I need his words, and Jessica’s, ’cause I know Mom and Dad blame me. They sure don’t love me. Why else are they so silent? They don’t speak to me—rarely, and they never speak to each other. Dad has started going to work again, but Mom mopes around the house. She hasn’t been out of her pajamas since Michael’s funeral.

Christmas was tough again this year. It was our second one without Michael, not that we celebrated either time. Dad got a tree this year, though. It showed up one day in our living room. I put a few decorations on it. Mom pretended it wasn’t there.

I
ran into the classroom. “Does everyone have their stuff?” I yelled.

Mr. T looked up from his desk. “Calm down, Peter,” he said.

“Does everyone have their stuff?” I said again, still excited.

“Calm down,” Mr. T said again. “Take a deep breath.”

I took a deep breath. Then, in a normal voice I said, “Does everyone have their stuff?”

“I think so,” Mr. T said.

“Let’s go then. Let’s go!” I said.

“We’ll go out later, Peter. Besides, we need to take attendance and lunch count and listen to morning announcements.” Mr. T also figured if we went out and got soaking
wet first thing, we’d be miserable for the rest of the day. He had a good point, but I still wanted to get outside.

We spent the morning spread out all over the place playing different games. I played Scattergories with Mr. T, Luke, and Jeffrey. The letter
B
came up on the dice. We raced through putting down our ideas and then it was time to share. We took turns, going down the list, and then the item “Things at a beach” came up. Jeffrey shared, then Luke, then Mr. T, and then it was my turn. I leaned in and said, “Babes.”

“Who brings babies to the beach?” Luke said.

“Not babies. Babes,” Jeffrey said.

I almost died. But wait. It gets better. Our very own brainiac, Luke, just sat there watching us laugh. Then he said, “What do you mean?” Can you believe that? He didn’t know babes. I freaked.

“Holy smokes,” I said. “What rock are you living under?”

Mr. T jumped in at that point.

“Easy, Peter,” Mr. T said. “Lots of girls don’t appreciate that term. It sounds as if you don’t respect them, and part of being a man is knowing how to respect women.”

“Ohhh!” Luke said. “Girls.” His lightbulb had suddenly turned on.

Mr. T looked at me and smiled, shaking his head.

Mr. T’s the best, I thought. That was the last time I got to hang out with him.

P
eter thought he was so smart all of a sudden. He won a homework pass off a lucky guess and he confused me in Scattergories. Big deal. I
resolved
(dollar word) to get him.

N
ever thought I’d play a game with my teacher, but I did. I played Scattergories with Terupt and Luke and Peter. And I learned that I’m even smarter than Luke at some things. But that doesn’t make him out to be a bad kid, just a dork. As smart as he is, Luke doesn’t make a stink about it. I like him for that.

But Peter. Sometimes he gets on my nerves. He’s always doing stuff and never gets in trouble. I knew he was just waitin’ to get outside. I had a surprise for him.

It woulda been better if I never got involved. If I just stayed hating school, none of this woulda happened.

F
inally we were outside. The snow was perfect. The kind that packed and formed super snowballs. I scooped up a handful as we walked toward the field, squeezing it over and over. “No snowballs,” Mr. T had told us before coming out. We reached the corner and I stuffed the snowball in my pocket. It was too perfect to just toss down. It wasn’t like I was going to throw it. I ran out onto the untouched field. The field was perfect, too. There was a mountain of snow right in the middle that we climbed up.

I was already standing at the top when I saw Lexie making her way up the side. I thought about how she’d been really quiet lately, like she was down in the dumps. Maybe that was why I thought knocking her into the snow would snap her out of her trance. Without thinking it through
(something I never do, anyway), I slid down the side and gave her a little shove. She tumbled backward. I laughed hard. She didn’t. I ran toward a smaller mound of snow.

That was how the game started.

Everyone joined in, running back and forth between the two mounds. We knocked each other down as we ran and we wrestled each other off the tops.

I’m not sure how it happened, but somehow
I
got knocked down. I was watching out for Lexie when somebody shoulder-checked me from behind. I fell off the mountain and landed on my belly. Lexie came running over and kicked snow in my face. I was fuming. It’s one thing to knock each other down, but kicking snow in someone’s face … that’s just wrong. I was angry. I got on my knees and BAM! I got knocked down on my face again. Now I was fuming and steaming. I pushed myself up to see who did it when BAM! Same thing happened. This time the person held my face down, too. I was so mad I jumped up, pulled that snowball out of my pocket, and chucked it for all I was worth.

A
ct 8, Scene 1

You could hear our big, heavy snow boots thumping down the sidewalk until we turned the corner and dashed out onto the field. A monstrous hill of snow loomed right in the middle. Naturally, we all sprinted toward it and clamored to the top. Then we jumped, taking the plunge into waist-deep powdery white. It didn’t take long before the boys started taking each other down.

Peter seized the opportunity and sent Alexia flying down the side of the mountain. She landed on her back, all splayed out. Peter laughed and ran. Alexia sat up and I could tell how mad she was by the lines in her contorted face. Suddenly I thought of a way to get Peter. He wouldn’t expect me. He’d be keeping his eyes on Alexia, expecting her to retaliate.

I collared Danielle and Anna. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” I said. It wasn’t a suggestion, more like I simply told them how my ingenious plan would be executed.

Act 8, Scene 2

We hid behind the mountain of snow. Peter came running toward us and scampered right up the side. While Peter stood on top like the king of all dorks, we snuck up the back side of the hill.

Danielle threw her shoulder into Peter, knocking him off balance. He wavered. I blasted him with my shoulder, coming from the opposite direction. Anna gave the last little nudge from behind.

The one-two-three punch was too much for Peter to handle. He squawked like a dying seagull as he flailed through the air, landing facedown.

Alexia ran over and kicked snow in his face the instant he picked his head up. Danielle, Anna, and I had just reached the other mound when we turned around and saw Peter fire the snowball.

A
lexia kicked snow in Peter’s face. He griped and whined as he sat up to wipe the snow from his eyes.

“Let’s get him, Lukester,” Jeffrey said. I felt like a couple of
snipers
(dollar word) sizing up our target. Jeffrey slid down the smaller mound, hurried across the snow, and shoved Peter’s face back into the white powder. Peter never saw it coming, and Jeffrey was long gone by the time Peter sat up to wipe his face again. That was when I attacked. I blasted him from behind, knocking him down, and held his face in the snow extra-long. This
reversal
(dollar word) of typical roles, with me being the victor, felt awesome. It was one of the greatest
upsets
(dollar word) of all time.

My victory celebration lasted only a second before everything was
shattered
(dollar word).

P
eter had it comin’. I got him good and so did Lukester. They say all’s fair in war. Peter’s not a crybaby, but all of us ganging up on him was too much. He got crazy upset and chucked that ice ball.

I
didn’t want anyone to get hurt.

W
hy did I go along with Jessica’s plan? I could have said no. I should have said no. It was supposed to be fun. We were all getting pushed into the snow. Peter would have knocked any of us down. He’s always fooling around. It was supposed to be funny. How could it turn out so bad?

A
ct 8, Scene 3

I don’t think any of us were malicious in our attacks on Peter. It was the sudden onslaught that made him throw that snowball. We didn’t know. And I started it.

I
was running away from Peter so I didn’t actually see it. I saw something else. The
twisted
(dollar word) faces of Danielle and Anna and Jessica.

I
didn’t know Mr. T was going to be right there.

M
r. Terupt stood up. Right in the way.

I
still remember Alexia’s scream. Piercing. Horrified.

I
didn’t want to hurt anyone.

M
r. Terupt should have stopped us. He let it go too far.

I
wish I could take it back. I didn’t mean to throw it.

P
lease let my teacher be okay.

D
ear God
,

It’s Danielle. I really need you down here. Mr. Terupt needs you
.

A
ct 9, Scene 1

It’s been a few weeks since Mr. Terupt went into a coma. I felt numb when I first heard. My mother got a phone call on the night it happened from Mrs. Williams. The principal was calling all the parents. Mom hung up the telephone and explained his situation. I sat paralyzed, unable to move or speak. It was the second time in less than a year that I was in disbelief. The first time was when Mom told me about Dad and his girlfriend.

The day after the accident, our class had a substitute. I don’t remember her name. I only remember our classroom being silent. We were given some silly worksheets to keep us busy, but no one could concentrate—not even Luke. Instead we stared blankly at the papers, or out the windows—each of
us lost in an ocean of thoughts and a roller coaster of emotions. Mrs. Williams came into our classroom later that morning.

“Boys and girls, I came up here to talk to you about Mr. Terupt,” she said from the front of the room. “I want you to know the truth, and not some rumor that might be floating around. Mr. Terupt is in a coma, which means he’s not conscious.”

That wasn’t all Mrs. Williams said, but that’s all I remember. I already knew the truth, but I wasn’t ready to hear her or anyone else talk about it so freely. I knew about comas. People don’t always wake up from them. It wasn’t fair. I needed comfort. I wanted to read
Bridge to Terabithia
and
Missing May
. I wanted the company of Jesse Aarons and Summer and Uncle Ob.

Before Mrs. Williams finished, I did hear one other thing she said. She claimed that the snowball incident was an accident—not anyone’s fault. I sure didn’t believe that, and I know my classmates didn’t believe it, either. I wondered if Mrs. Williams thought that Mr. Terupt had let things go too far. And if she did, would he be getting in trouble?

I sure hoped not. He’d been dealt enough already. Besides, Mrs. Williams was the one who gave us special permission to go outside. We could blame her. But I didn’t want to see anyone get in trouble. I just wanted Mr. Terupt to wake up and fix this mess.

I
wanted to go and see Mr. Terupt. My mom and dad didn’t think it was a good idea, but I wouldn’t listen. I didn’t stop pestering them about it. I
needed
to go. Eventually they gave in.

I stepped off the hospital elevator and stared down the long hall. Mr. Terupt was in one of those rooms. Nurses moved around behind some desks. I heard some of them laughing. How could they laugh? How could they laugh when my teacher was in a coma? They grew quiet as I walked past. I felt some of them look at me and my mom, but I just kept walking until I saw his name on the door.
TERUPT
. Room 404 (a palindrome, just like our classroom). I stopped and took a deep breath. I felt Mom’s hand on my shoulder. I walked in.

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.