The Magical Ms. Plum (5 page)

Jeremy spent the whole morning with “pig snout” in his ear. The other students came over at break time and asked the bird questions just to hear it say “Pig snout.”

“What’s fifteen times three?” asked Eric.

“Pig snout.”

“What’s the capital of Japan?” asked Emiko.

“Pig snout.”

“Would you like a knuckle sandwich?” said Brad.

“Pig snout.”

But they needn’t have bothered. The raven was happy to say “Pig snout” anytime. Just at random, in the middle of nothing, he would say “Pig snout.”

He said it loudly. He said it softly. He murmured it. He squawked it in a sharp croak.

“Stop saying that!” Jeremy finally said.

“Pig snout,” whispered the raven in his ear.

“You stink,” said Jeremy.

“Piiiiggg snouuuut,” crooned the raven.

“You’re a big phony!”

“P-p-p-p-pig snout,” the raven rapped out.

“Why, I oughta—”

“Pigsnoutpigsnoutpigsnout,” the raven said really, really fast.

And then it happened … Jeremy started to giggle.

He squished his hands over his mouth, but he couldn’t stop. First the giggle was like a tiny bubble of air escaping from the side of his mouth. Then it was like a rippling stream. Then it was a laugh—a laugh so loud and hard that Jeremy buried his head in his arms, his chest shaking.

The raven complained with a loud “Pig snout!” And glared.

But Jeremy just kept laughing until it seemed every laugh he’d ever had inside was laughed out of him. Finally he raised his head from his arms, wiped the tears off his cheeks, and shook his head happily.

“Man, oh, man,” he said, smiling at Ms. Plum. “Pig snout?”

“Indeed,” said Ms. Plum with a smile.

And then she told him it was time for the raven to go back.

“Pig snout,” Jeremy said, closing the closet door with a little salute and a lopsided grin.

And the next day, Jeremy came to school in bright red high-tops and a tie-dyed T-shirt bursting with lemon yellow stars.

One December afternoon Ms. Plum walked over to the closet and opened the door. She didn’t go inside. Instead she held up one of her plums and called out, “Sweets for my sweets.”

Soon there was a sound of faraway voices and a faint creaking from the closet. The sound grew closer. Every eye was on the closet doorway
.

Suddenly a band of miniature monkeys came striding forth, chittering and screaming. Half a dozen of the monkeys pulled a wagon filled to the brim with candy
.

The little monkeys grabbed the candies and raced around the room giving them to the students. They weren’t like any candy the kids had ever had
.

Tashala got a pink and white candy shaped like a rabbit. When she bit into it, it exploded like a cloud of cotton candy in her mouth, filling it with the taste of strawberries and cream
.

Jeremy got a candy that looked like a zebra lollipop. When he stuck it in his mouth, he realized that each stripe had a different flavor
.

“It’s chocolate. Hmmmm, no—
butterscotch. Licorice! I don’t know what that one is, but it’s good!”

Carlos got a handful of tiny gumballs. At least they looked like gumballs—but a monkey grabbed one and heaved it at the ground, and it bounced around the room like a Super Ball. Then the monkey opened its mouth and the gumball landed inside. Score!

Carlos quickly tossed one of the balls. It caromed off the floor, the ceiling, a light fixture, Mindy’s desk, and when he opened his mouth, it hit his tongue and instantly dissolved into a taste of sweet lemonade with maybe just a bit of dust
.

Every student got a different candy, and later, thinking about it, everyone felt they had gotten exactly the right candy for them
.

As soon as the monkeys had given out their candy, they scampered onto Ms. Plum’s desk and eagerly took several plums from her basket. They piled them in the wagon and pulled it back into the closet. The door shut slowly behind them
.

“Why did we get the candy?” asked Tashala
.

“Because,” said Ms. Plum
.

“Because we all did good on our spelling tests?” asked Becky Oh
.

“Because it’s Friday?” asked Brad. “Because it’s almost Christmas?” asked Nadia
.

No, said Ms. Plum. “Just because.”

“Why did the monkeys get your plums?” asked Lucy
.

“Because they gave us candy?” asked Eric
.

“Because they were cute?” asked Emiko
.

“Because they go ape for your plums?” asked Jeremy. “Get it?” He snortled at his own joke. “Go ape?”

“Just because,” said Ms. Plum
.

“Just because of what?” said Carlos. He didn’t like not knowing the exact answer to things
.

Ms. Plum surveyed the class. Her students were finishing up their treats, licking their fingers and lips, and smiling happy smiles. She tilted her head. In the winter sunlight, the tips of her glasses sparkled like purple frost. She happily licked the plum lollipop the monkeys had given her
.

“Just because,” she finally said to Carlos. “Sometimes, the answer is just because.”

Outside the windows of Ms. Plum’s classroom, the snow fell in easy swirls.

“Like popcorn,” wrote Eric.

“Like feathers,” wrote Darma, working on the snow poem Ms. Plum had assigned.

“Like happiness,” wrote Emiko.

“Like …” But Brad couldn’t think of what the snow was like except like snow.

He stared out the window and pretended to be thinking about his poem, but what he was really thinking about was the big snowball fight at recess.

The students weren’t supposed to have snowball fights, but the playground fell in a long slope toward the back parking lot. The teachers huddled by the warmth of the lunchroom doors, and most couldn’t see below the slope.

These fights usually involved fifth-grade
boys, but Brad had joined in anyway. They put up with him because they could pelt him and he’d keep coming back. Brad was tough. “Like a Mack truck,” Brad’s dad said. Brad didn’t know exactly what a Mack truck was, but to be like a truck was really good, as far as Brad was concerned.

Out of all of Ms. Plum’s students, Brad was the only one who wasn’t sure he even wanted to get a closet animal.

The animals seemed kind of babyish—squirrels who did manicures, a talking parrot who didn’t really talk like a pirate, a pooping pony. The falcon had been cool and the raven made him laugh, but the falcon flew away and Brad sure didn’t need help laughing in class.

The monkeys had been the best, for sure. And to his surprise, when he turned back to his snow poem, he noticed one of them creeping out from the closet door.

Brad quickly looked around. Had anyone else noticed? All the other kids were working on their poems. Ms. Plum was staring out at the snow with a dreamy look.

The little monkey glanced around, its eyes bright with curiosity. Brad carefully lowered his hand by his desk and waggled
his pencil with his fingers. He soon felt the monkey’s paws on his hand, grabbing for the pencil.

Brad scooped him up and gently slipped the monkey into the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt.

Glancing down, he saw that the monkey had positioned itself so it could peer out of his pocket. He seemed quite content.

I’m going to call him Chompers, Brad thought. Since no one else knows about him, maybe I could keep him.

Could he take the monkey out of the classroom? Ms. Plum said the animals made their own choice. The little monkey had sneaked out of the closet. He must want to be free, Brad decided.

Brrinng!

The buzz of the recess bell cut into his thoughts.

He shrugged on his parka, carefully transferring Chompers to his coat pocket, and joined the line heading out of the classroom. Step one. There was Ms. Plum’s smiling face. Step two. There was the open door. Step three. He was out!

He slipped his hand into his pocket, and Chompers immediately jumped on it and
scrambled up his arm to perch on his shoulder.

Could anyone else see him? The other kids in Ms. Plum’s classroom had scattered like … like what? Brad couldn’t think of how they’d scattered except like a bunch of kids at recess.

Brad raced for the back slope of the playground. He’d done it! He had his very own monkey!