The Waffler (4 page)

T
he next morning
Mrs. Tuttle saw that Monty's arm was bare. She put three new decision-aids on him and pulled one off later when he got up in the middle of Quiet Reading to pick a different book. By Wednesday, Monty knew the drill. He went straight to Mrs. Tuttle's desk, where she said, “Good morning, Monty!” and added as many decision-aids as he needed to start the day with three. After she threw the wrappers in the trash, she clapped her hands.

“One two three, eyes on me!” she chirped. “As you know, today we're kicking off our Learning Expedition. We will be going to Mrs. Calhoun's classroom to meet our Reading Buddies!”

“Mrs. Tuttle, Mrs. Tuttle!” cried Jasmine Raines, waving her hand back and forth. As usual, she had about a hundred barrettes in her hair. Today they were all butterfly barrettes, which made Monty think of a flower covered with butterflies, like the orange monarchs that had been stopping to feed from the sunflowers in his mom's garden, hurrying south before winter came. Monty had learned all about monarch butterflies in their third-grade Expedition on
Migrations
, which he thought was a way cooler subject than
Hidden Treasures
.

Because it turned out that
Hidden Treasures
was actually just Kindergarten Buddies! And their kickoff field trip was going out to the satellite classroom to meet their Buddies! Monty should have suspected something was wrong when Mrs. Tuttle didn't send them home with permission slips. Because you didn't need a signed note from a parent to walk across the playground! What kind of an Expedition was that? But according to Mrs. Tuttle, there were treasures hidden inside of books and inside of people, too. Their job would be finding the treasure.

“I know a kid in Mrs. Calhoun's class!” said Jasmine. “Can she be my Buddy?”

Mrs. Tuttle shook her head, “I'm sorry, Jasmine. Nobody will choose a Buddy. Those assignments have already been made. Now, we will line up single file. As we walk through the school, our noise level will be
zero
. Let's go.”

Monty and his class trooped down the stairs, out through the big double doors, and across the playground. From the outside, a satellite classroom looked a lot like a double-wide trailer, which was what it actually was. But inside, the room looked almost exactly like his old kindergarten.

There was a big
Today Is
sign.

TODAY IS:
WEDNESDAY
. (If you were student of the day, Monty remembered, you got to change this at morning meeting.)

THE WEATHER IS:
SUNNY
. (You could change this, too, but only if the weather changed.)

THE SEASON
IS: AUTUMN
. (This was boring because it only changed four times a year.)

THE NEXT HOLIDAY IS:
COLUMBUS DAY
.

There was also a giant pad of lined paper propped on a big easel, and written on it in were the words:
Today we are going to meet our Big Buddies. Your Buddy wants to learn all about you, and read you a book.

The kindergartners were so excited they were squirming and wriggling, like the puppies in the Pet Emporium. Monty remembered how excited he was when he got assigned a Reading Buddy, three years ago. They got to go to the library all by themselves to hang out in the Reading Nook and read stories on the beanbags. By now his Big Buddy would be in middle school, in the eighth grade. It was strange to think that he himself had been a Little Buddy once, and now he was a Big Buddy. And someday he would be in the eighth grade.

“Monty,” said Mrs. Calhoun. “This is Leo, your Buddy.” She spoke in a soft, singsong voice, just like his old kindergarten teacher. “You and Leo may go find a spot to read.” She gave him a smile and put Leo's hand in his.

“Monty,” said Mrs. Tuttle, in a voice that was not soft. “Make good choices.” She gave him a piece of paper for writing down what he learned about his Buddy.

Leo's hand was warm in Monty's. He followed alongside like a little puppy as Monty led the way outside, which turned out to be the best part of the Expedition so far. While the weather was warm, they would be allowed to read outdoors, staying in one corner of the playground where the teachers could see everybody. Monty picked a spot on the top step of the stone amphitheater. On the piece of paper, Mrs. Tuttle had helpfully written a few fill-in-the-blanks. Fill-in-the-blank was boring but easy. The first one was
My Buddy's name is ________________.

“What's your name?” asked Monty.

“Leo!” said the kid with a grin. He had a big smile and big brown eyes, and a buzz cut.

“I know. What's your whole name? Like mine is Montana Greene.”

“Leonard Schwarz the third,” said Leo. “I can write it.” He grabbed the pencil and paper from Monty and worked until he had written LEONARD SCHWARZ III.

“How come you're the third?”

“My dad is Leonard Schwarz Junior and my grandpa is Leonard Schwarz,” explained Leo.

“Okay,” said Monty. One fact down, four to go. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“One sister,” said Leo. “Do you?”

“Three,” said Monty. “Sort of.” He told Leo all about Sierra, his twin sister, and Audrey, his older stepsister, and Aisha, his baby half-sister.

“You have a lot of sisters,” observed Leo.

“Tell me about it,” said Monty.

This was turning out better than he had expected. They got to be outside, with no other kids on the playground, and no clouds in the warm, blue sky. And Leo was a pretty funny kid. He complained that his older sister had been in fifth grade last year, and her whole class got lice, and that's why he had to get a buzz cut before he started kindergarten.

Monty read the next fill-in-the-blank out loud: “Pets,” he said.

“Do you have a pet?” asked Leo.

Monty forgot that he was supposed to be the one asking the questions. “A rat,” he boasted. “I just got him.”

“What's his name?”

On Monday Monty had named the rat Mack, but now he wasn't so sure. Looking around, he let his mind float until it bumped into something new. From here he could see the spot on the school where he'd written the word
poop
in black marker. “Officer Rat,” he said. “Like a policeman.” He told Leo how Officer Rat would eat apples right from his hand.

“Can I see him?” asked Leo. “Can I come over?”

Monty hesitated. He liked Leo just fine. But Kindergarten Buddies was during school. He wasn't sure he wanted to hang out with a little kid after school. “Maybe,” he said, not promising.

“When?” pushed Leo.

“I don't know,” said Monty. “It's complicated.” He tried to explain that the rat was at his dad's house, but today was the day he and Sierra switched to their mom's after school. So he didn't think he and the rat were even going to be in the same house for a while.

“Why?”

Monty told Leo how he'd known his mom would say no if he asked her for a pet, so he hadn't. He'd asked his dad. Monty knew his dad would say we'll see, then probably, and then yes. His mom had agreed, on one condition: the pet stayed at his dad's house. But somehow, he needed to change his mom's mind.

“How?”

“I don't know,” said Monty. “I'm in deep doo-doo, Leo.”

“Deep doo-doo!” shrieked Leo. Then tucking his hands under his chin like a begging dog and making a funny face, he suggested, “Do puppy-dog eyes!”

“That's pretty good!” said Monty. He didn't think he could do it as good as Leonard Schwarz the third, but unless Monty came up with a better idea, he might have to go with puppy-dog eyes.

• • •

By the time school ended Monty hadn't come up with anything better, and he still hadn't by the time the bus glided past his dad's street, or by the time he got off a few streets later at his mom's. He headed around to the back door, where the yellow-headed sunflowers stood guard. Monty picked out a seed and nibbled it. It was pretty cool how the sunflowers' pollen had fed the monarch butterflies, and now their seeds fed the squirrels that climbed up the tall stalks. And him. And he bet the rat would like sunflower seeds, too.

The rat. Time to go inside and beg.

“Mom!” he called out. “Hey, Mom!”

No answer. He saw a note on the fridge:
Monty—I'm working. See you about 4:30.
That meant his mom was here, but he couldn't talk to her. She'd be in the room where she did her massage therapy. Monty wasn't supposed to knock unless it was an emergency. Nobody else was around, either. Bob was still at work, Sierra was at soccer, and Aisha would be with a sitter. The house was quiet, except for the faint sound of massage music drifting through the walls. It sounded like birds chirping and church bells gonging.

Monty went upstairs. He plunked down on his bed and grabbed a comic book, but he'd already read it. He started a drawing but didn't feel like finishing. He actually took out his homework—math sheets—but he couldn't concentrate. All he wanted was to get this puppy-dog eyes business over with.

Finally he heard a door slam, which meant the client was leaving and his mom was going to pick up Aisha. A little bit later he heard the door again and ran downstairs. There was his mom, holding Aisha. The kitchen smelled like apples. The last time Monty and Sierra were here they'd gone apple picking, and now all the apples were in a big pot on the stove. Monty would rather have a crunchy apple than mushy applesauce any day, but he decided
not
to complain that all the apples were being turned into baby food mush. Not when he was about to beg for mercy.

“
S
o, Mom,” he
began.

“Hush, little baby, don't say a word,” murmured his mom, singing and swaying back and forth because Aisha was fussing. Pointing to the Band-Aids on Monty's arm, she asked, “What happened here?”

Why did his mom have to notice everything? Especially when she first saw him after he'd been at his dad's. She checked him out from top to bottom.

Monty didn't answer her question because, while she was looking at him, he was looking at her, too. His mom used to have long hair, but when Aisha was born she cut it super-short, saying she didn't want the baby tugging it. Monty still couldn't get used to it. It was like every time he saw his mom, it wasn't
her
. It was some other mom. Once she asked him what was wrong, and he tried to tell her, but she just started talking about
changes
. About Bob and Aisha. But Monty wasn't mad because of Bob, who was pretty nice, or 'cause of Aisha, who was pretty cute, when she wasn't crying. Right now she was old enough to sit up but not old enough to crawl, so lots of times she just sat on her blanket and sucked on a set of plastic cups in rainbow colors. His being mad wasn't about Bob and Aisha. It really was about how his mom just looked . . . wrong. Not like his mom. Like his
not-mom
.

Monty didn't know why he said what he said next. He wanted to be asking about his rat. His mom wanted an answer to her question about the Band-Aids. But instead of doing either of those things he blurted out, “Are you gonna grow your hair back?”

Before his mom could answer, the door opened and in came Sierra in her soccer uniform—red socks, red shorts, and a red shirt with
PRONTO PAINTING
across the front. Right behind her came Bob, who said in unison with Monty's mom, “No cleats in the house!” Sierra plunked down on the kitchen floor and tugged off her soccer shoes. Bob took off his jacket—underneath he wore a T-shirt that said
GOD BLESS EVERYONE. NO EXCEPTIONS
.

On days when they stayed here, Bob picked Sierra up from soccer on the way home from his job, which was going around to people's houses fixing their computers. Bob was the kind of guy who, if you were lost and you had to ask somebody for help, you'd ask him. Which actually happened to Monty. He and Sierra and their mom were at the Cumberland Fair, and Monty had spent too long looking at the pigs, which were
gigantic
. Suddenly he realized his mom and Sierra were gone. He went up and down all the livestock barns—more pigs, goats, chickens—and then the boring barns, with skeins of yarn
and jars of golden honey, until finally he knew, he wasn't going to find them. His mom had always told him,
if you're lost, find somebody who looks like a grandmother!
But Monty decided to ask for help from the guy standing by the chickens and wearing the
NO WORRIES
shirt.

That guy was Bob, who took him to the place where lost people found each other, and waited until Monty's mom showed up. After that, he came over a couple weeks later for a thank-you supper. And a couple years after that, he and Monty's mom got married.

“Buh!” squealed Aisha.

Bob picked up a big wooden spoon and began stirring the applesauce, so the smell of apples floated through the kitchen. “You hear that? She said my name! So, what's going on around here?”

“Monty still doesn't like my haircut,” said Monty's mom, swaying back and forth the way she did whenever she was holding Aisha. “But I was just going to tell him that when this little gal's not grabbing anymore, I'll probably grow it back.”

“Mom,” said Monty. He still needed to beg for mercy. “Hey, Mom.”

“What about those Band-Aids?” she asked. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Sierra got up off the kitchen floor and opened the fridge. “Mrs. Tuttle's punishing him,” she said. “And did you tell her about the rat yet?”

“Sierra!” shouted Monty. He wanted to pound his sister! She was the one being the Town Crier! “Shut up!”

“What?” asked Sierra, as if she was totally innocent. “I'm just
saying
. It's no big deal. Everybody at school knows.”

“Knows what?” asked Monty's mom. “Monty, what's going on? Mrs. Tuttle's punishing you because of a rat?”

“No!” shouted Monty.

He was going to keep the Band-Aids a secret, and he was going to beg for mercy about his rat, but now everything was ruined, because Sierra was such a blabbermouth.

“I hate her!” he said, and made a grab for his sister, who scurried behind their mom. They circled around and around. He was yelling and Sierra was yelling and Aisha was crying, louder than both of them.

“Montana! Sierra!” scolded their mom. “Stop it!”

Slowly, Monty and Sierra came to a stop. But Aisha didn't stop crying. Monty's mom handed her to Bob.

“Too much fighting you guys,” he said, shaking his head. “Not cool.” He took Aisha outside to walk her around the yard.

“Now tell me
what
,” said Monty's mom as she turned off the flame beneath the applesauce and put the lid on the pot, “is the matter with you two?”

Monty hated getting lumped together:
you two
. The two of you. As if it was both their faults that they were fighting when it was all Sierra's!

“She started it!” he said.

“I did not!” protested Sierra. “All I said was, did you tell her about the rat?”

Monty's mom made a face like the time Monty stepped in dog doo and she had to help him clean off his sneaker. Like something smelled disgusting. “What
rat
?” she asked.

“His name is Mack,” explained Monty.

“Mack?”

“No!” said Monty, remembering. “I changed it. His name is Officer Rat.”

“Officer Rat?” asked his mom, still making the bad-smell face. “Where on earth did you get a rat?”

“At the Pet Emporium,” volunteered Sierra. “He couldn't make up his mind and Dad said he was out of time, so he got a rat.”

“Shut up!” said Monty. “That's not true!” Even though it was true, he didn't want the rat to be known as the pet he got because he couldn't make up his mind. Officer Rat was awesome.

His mom sighed, “Sierra, I want to hear from Monty right now. You can go out in the yard or up to your room.”

Sierra made a big show of leaving, stomping loudly up the stairs.

His mom sat down at the kitchen table, cluttered with newspapers and her laptop and a bowl full of yellow and orange gourds in crazy shapes. “Come and sit,” she said, patting the chair beside her. “Tell me.”

“Mom, I'm sorry! I know you said no pets! I thought he could stay at Dad's—which was sort of stupid, 'cause a week's too long to leave him there all alone—so could I please bring him over here? Please say yes!”

Monty's mom didn't say yes but she didn't say no, either. She said, “Let me think about that for a minute. What about Mrs. Tuttle? Are you in trouble?”

“Kind of sort of a little,” he explained.

“Meaning?”

“Mrs. Tuttle put three Band-Aids on my arm.”

“What?” Now Monty's mom had a puzzled look on her face. “Why?”

He was doomed. She could eke the story out of him bit by bit—kind of like doing the slow pull with a Band-Aid. Or he could tell the whole story all at once—kind of like the fast pull. He picked the quick way.

The story came tumbling out: the writing assignment; how he got a better idea so he tried to start over but his eraser ripped his paper; how he threw his pencil but he didn't mean to hit Jasmine; and how now Mrs. Tuttle put three Band-Aids on his arm every day, and every time he changed his mind, she pulled one off as a reminder. “She calls them decision-aids,” he said. “I hate her!” Monty felt so mad, he couldn't stop. “And I hate Sierra, too!” he added.

Monty knew what would happen now. His mom would give him a lecture about how
hate
was a very strong word, and didn't he actually mean he was
very angry?
And Sierra wouldn't get in trouble at all.

But his mom didn't give that lecture. “I don't think I like the sound of this,” she said as she pulled over her laptop. “I'm going to write Mrs. Tuttle and set up a time to speak with her.”

“Mom, no!” cried Monty. “You can't!”

“What do you mean, I can't? Of course I can talk with your teacher.”

How could his mom not know what a disaster talking to his teacher would be? Mrs. Tuttle would be mad because he had tattled on her. She'd take it out on him in a hundred little ways for the rest of the year.

“Just—no,” he spluttered. “It's just, like, temporary. I think it's only for the week, or something. Mom, I'm handling it.
Please
.”

Monty hoped that adding
or something
made what he said not a lie. Besides, Mrs. Tuttle never said anything about how long it would be. Maybe it really was temporary!

“Okay,” said his mom with a sigh. “I'll wait on that. But Monty, there's something I want you to think about for me, okay?” She took hold of his hands. “I haven't made a decision yet, but something I'm thinking about—and I'm asking you and Sierra to think about this, too—is having the two of you flip-flop.”

Monty's nose was starting to itch. He needed to scratch wicked bad. Finally he had to let go of his mom's hands and scratch his nose. His fingers smelled like the oil she used for her last massage. Peppermint.

“Flip-flop?” he asked.

“Instead of both of you going to dad's together and both of you coming here together, one of you would be at dad's while the other one was here, and vice versa. You two could . . . take a little break from each other.”

It was true Monty got really mad at Sierra sometimes. She bugged him a lot—like today—and when she bugged him, they fought. But that was no big deal. All kids fought, right? It was no bigger a deal than scratching an itch. Thinking about scratching made his nose itch again. He peppermint scratched some more, trying to imagine being here without his sister. Or being without her at Dad's. It was hard to imagine. No matter how much he hated it when his mom said
you two
, the two of them had always been together. What would it be like if they weren't?

Maybe they wouldn't be lumped together so much. Lumping was one of the bad things about being a twin. If something one twin did made Mom or Dad mad, the other twin could pay the price. Because a mad-at-one-twin parent was a grumpy-with-the-other-twin parent. It was grumpy lumping, and it wasn't fair.

But being a twin had tons of perks, too. Both his mom and dad kept pestering Monty to invite a friend over once in a while, but he hardly ever bothered. Because Sierra was always there. Or if she wasn't there right that second because she was at soccer, she'd be home soon. Monty liked always having somebody to hang out with.

Basically, there were good and bad things about being a twin. Flip-flopping would mean getting away from the bad stuff, like grumpy lumping. So maybe he should say yes. But flip-flopping also meant losing the good stuff. So maybe he should say no.

“Do I have to decide right now?”

His mom frowned, but before she could start a lecture on how he should just say his gut feeling and not worry about his answer being set in stone, the telephone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. “Schwarz,” she said, not picking up.

Schwarz? Schwarz! Leonard Schwarz the third! Leo!

“That's my new Buddy!” said Monty.

“A friend?” His mom snatched up the phone. “Hello?”

For a little while she listened, nodding, then said, “Just a second. I'll check with Monty.” She held the phone down. “Honey, Mrs. Schwarz says Leo wants to come over, if that's okay with you. She says Saturday is good for him.” She was giving him a big say-yes smile. “That's good for you, right?”

“Uh,” said Monty, blanking. “I don't know.”

“I thought you said he was a new friend?”

Monty felt his heart pick up speed, like an electric fan that somebody had turned on. “Kind of,” he answered. Buddy was a word for friend. Kindergartners were new in a way, at school.

“Monty,” said his mom in a whisper, so Mrs. Schwarz wouldn't hear, “it's not a big deal. Just say yes or no.” Her smile was starting to look tired, like the faces of people who worked in stores who
had
to smile at you. “Leo's mom is waiting, honey.”

His mom's words didn't help. They just made Monty feel like somebody had turned up the fan even higher. It was bad enough kids calling him Waffles. What would they say if they knew Monty was hanging out with a kindergartner on the weekend?

But what about his rat? This was too good a chance to pass up.

“He wants to see the rat,” said Monty.

“The rat?”

“The whole reason Leo wants to come over is to see my rat,” explained Monty. “So can the rat come over while I'm here?”