This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2012 by Rob Buyea
Jacket art copyright © 2012 by Harry Bliss
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Buyea, Rob.
Mr. Terupt falls again / Rob Buyea. —1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Several students relate their experiences helping Mr. Terupt move the old classroom to the sixth grade annex during the summer vacation.
eISBN: 978-0-375-98910-0
1. Classrooms—Juvenile fiction. 2. Moving, Household—Juvenile fiction. 3. Teacher-student relationships—Juvenile fiction. 4. Summer—Juvenile fiction. [1. Classrooms—Fiction. 2. Moving, Household—Fiction. 3. Teacher-student relationships—Fiction. 4. Summer—Fiction.]
I. Title. II. Title: Mister Terupt falls again.
PZ7.B98316Mr 2012
[Fic]—dc23
2012010897
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v3.1
To my wife and best friend, Beth,
whom I fell for long ago
Contents
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Part One
Summer
Peter
Alexia
Jessica
Anna
Jeffrey
Luke
Alexia
Danielle
September
Jessica
Peter
Luke
Anna
Jeffrey
Jessica
Luke
Jeffrey
Peter
Alexia
Danielle
Jeffrey
October
Luke
Peter
Jessica
Peter
Luke
Alexia
Danielle
Jeffrey
Anna
November
Jessica
Alexia
Peter
Luke
Jeffrey
Danielle
Jeffrey
Anna
Luke
Jeffrey
December
Luke
Danielle
Peter
Jessica
Anna
Alexia
Jeffrey
Part Two
January
Alexia
Jeffrey
Luke
Danielle
Alexia
Jessica
Anna
Peter
February
Jessica
Peter
Jeffrey
Anna
Jessica
Alexia
Danielle
Luke
March
Jeffrey
Luke
Alexia
Jessica
Danielle
Peter
Anna
April
Danielle
Luke
Peter
Jessica
Jeffrey
Alexia
Peter
Anna
Danielle
Luke
Jessica
Luke
Jeffrey
Peter
Alexia
Anna
Danielle
Peter
May
Danielle
Anna
Alexia
Jessica
Jeffrey
Luke
Peter
Part Three
June
Jeffrey
Danielle
Jessica
Luke
Peter
Alexia
Danielle
Anna
Peter
Jeffrey
Luke
Jessica
Acknowledgments
About the Author
summer
It was one of those farts that stunk so bad you could taste it. One of those that made your eyes water and forced you to tuck your nose under your shirt collar. It must have been hot and steamy coming out, because there’s no other explanation for its horrid stench. I know, it sounds like your classic silent-but-deadly—it wasn’t. Her fart ripped like a firecracker when it went off. That’s right—it wasn’t me! It was Lexie!
She dropped her stink bomb one day during the summer when we were helping Mr. T move our old classroom down to the sixth-grade annex. After last year, I wanted to spend all my time with Mr. T. I didn’t want a day to go by that I wasn’t with him. That’s why I spent my vacation helping him with the move. Besides, Mom and Dad weren’t around. They were working all the time—even in the summer, business called. And my older brother, Richard, was off doing his own thing, which was DJing. He had his own equipment and did small parties, birthdays mostly. It wasn’t like we needed the money, and Mom and Dad didn’t force him to get a job, but that’s what he did. He said it helped him get the girls.
Lexie and I weren’t the only ones choosing to hang with Mr. T. Anna and Ms. Newberry helped a lot, and Jeffrey showed up some, too. There weren’t a lot of other people around school in the beginning, just our custodians, office staff, and our principal, Mrs. Williams.
I was on my way to our classroom one morning and stopped to take a leak before heading upstairs. There was a bathroom around the corner from the office that no one ever used, a small bathroom with a single urinal and stall. I don’t know what possessed me, but I’ve always liked to mess around in bathrooms. Old habits die hard. I walked in and the stall door stared back at me with a funny look on its face.
“Hi-ya!” I yelled, running and throwing a roundhouse karate kick at my target. I didn’t actually know martial arts, but I’d seen the move on TV. The door banged open and slammed shut after ricocheting off the wall.
“Ahh!” someone screamed.
Huh! I didn’t expect anybody to be in there. Like I said, no one ever uses this bathroom.
“Peter, I’m gonna kill you!” Jeffrey barged out of the stall. I had scared the snot out of him, all right—I could tell. He must have sprayed everywhere. He had wet spots all over his pants. I wanted to laugh, but Jeffrey glared at me.
I backed to the door. “I—I didn’t know you were in there. I swear.”
“You better grow eyes in the back of your head,” he warned.
I yanked the door open and hurried upstairs while Jeffrey stayed behind, probably to dry his pants. I got to work helping Mr. T.
If you’ve ever moved, then you know it’s all about boxes. Packing boxes, lifting boxes, and unpacking boxes. Boxes, boxes, and more boxes. After a while I got sick of them, so I tried cramming one with as much as I could fit, thinking that more stuff in each box would mean less boxes all together in the end. Luke, our class brainiac, would have been proud of my smarts. The problem was, I forgot about needing to lift the box after jamming it
full of books and anything else I could get inside.
“Peter, you’ve got too much in there,” Anna warned. “You should take some stuff out.”
I liked Anna and all, but I wasn’t about to listen to a girl. I managed to pick the box up after almost getting a hernia, but then the stupid bottom fell out. I stood there like a dork, holding an empty cardboard box with junk all around my feet. Mr. T and Ms. Newberry got a good chuckle, and I know Anna had to bite her tongue.
After the super-heavy box strategy failed, I decided I’d take two normal-sized boxes and stack them one on top of the other. My idea was that two at once would lead to fewer box trips. Luke would have been proud again. The problem this time wasn’t that they were too heavy, but that I couldn’t see very well. I got the two lifted and started on my way, but I didn’t make it very far before I ran into one of the classroom desks. The corner hit me right in the you-know-what. I dropped the boxes and balled up on the ground, groaning and holding my privates. You’d think a boy would get some sympathy from a male teacher after an injury like that, but Mr. T had a funny way of showing he cared.
“Ahh, c’mon. You’re all right, Peter,” he said. “They’re just peanuts.”
Even with my injury, he made me smile. Of course everyone else thought it was hysterical, especially Lexie.
“Ohh, poor Peter’s peanuts,” she sang. “Hey, it’s a tongue twister. Poor Peter’s Peanuts. Poor Peter’s—”
“Okay, Lexie,” Mr. T said.
She thought it was a riot. She couldn’t stop laughing. And then she got to laughing so hard that she farted—right out loud! A real stinker! Served her right. Lexie turned bright red in the face. I wasn’t about to let her off easy by pretending nothing had happened.
“Oh my God!” I yelled.
“What now?” Mr. T asked, looking up from the box he had gone back to packing.
“Peter farted,” Lexie was quick to say.
“What! No way! That was you!” I was ready to wring her neck.
“That’s classic cover-up, Peter,” she said. “Blaming someone else.”
“Are you nuts?!”
“We know you hurt your peanuts,” she said. “We’re sorry.”
“That’s enough, you two,” Mr. T said. “Someone farted. I don’t care who, just don’t do it again. It stinks.” He covered his nose with his shirt and so did a laughing Ms. Newberry.
Lexie flashed me her devil smile.
“Better go check your underwear after that one,” I whispered. The only good thing about her fart was that it somehow made me forget about my privates hurting.
And so went my summer: watch out for Jeffrey, deal with Lexie, and hang with Mr. T. I had a good time.
Summer was pretty cool. The only bad part was that Mom was still waiting tables from noon to close every day, so she spent most mornings sleeping. So like, I was pretty much on my own. But no biggie—it’d been that way for a while now.
In the beginning, I rode my bike over to the school a lot and helped Teach with the classroom move. I liked doing that. Hanging with Teach was cool after spending all that time without him. I wasn’t the only one around. Jessica was gone to some writing thing and Luke was away, but Anna and Jeffrey were in the classroom a lot, and Danielle was busy on her farm but still came by often. Ms. Newberry was there every day, smiling and making Teach smile, and of course, there was also Peter. I loved teasing Peter. He’d try to give it back, but I always won. He was a good sport about it, though. It was all fun, not like mean-girl stuff. And I would know. So for a while, that was what I did with my summer. I’d never complain about time spent with Teach. Not after what we all went through.
But then one day, when I was riding home from school, I heard some voices coming from the abandoned house on Old Woods Road. I rode past this house every day. I’d been in it before. It could be a pretty cool hangout spot, but it was kinda scary, too. Dust and cobwebs, cracked window glass, a creaky floor, falling-down boards, and rusty nails—the place was old. Real old, and probably not very safe. But like, I wanted to see who was in it.
After leaving my bike on the grass, I crossed the porch and crept into the front of the house where there was a doorway, but no door. I tried to walk softly as I snooped around, but the boards made noise under my feet. I didn’t hear them coming from behind me.
“Who’re you?”
“Ahh!” I screamed, scared out of my mind. I spun around fast and saw two faces.
“Sorry,” the first girl said.
“What’re you doin’ here, Little Brat?” the second girl said.
They were older. High school girls, I could tell. They were bigger than me for one, and like, they needed bras where I still had my flat chest.
“Stop, Reena,” the first girl said. “You’re gonna scare her.”
“I’m just jokin’. Gimme a break.” Reena looked at me. “Don’t worry. You can chill here, Little Brat.” She turned and walked away. “I’ll be in the back,” she called over her shoulder.
“I’m Lisa,” the first girl said. “What’s your name?”
“Alexia, but my friends call me Lexie.”
“C’mon, Lexie.” She put her arm around me and gave me a tour of their hangout. The place wasn’t dirty and creepy anymore. They’d cleaned it up, the back room especially. They had put some old carpet pieces on the floor, which were a lot better than the creaky boards with rusty nails. There was a green couch and a brown armchair, and then some lawn furniture. In the middle of the room they had plywood laid across cinder blocks for a table. And they had a few blankets tacked over the windows for a little privacy—or secrecy.
Lisa was very pretty. She had dark hair with tight curls cropped close to her head. It looked good, especially with her dark maroon lipstick. She had a nice body that she showed off in short shorts and a tank top.
“Grab a seat, Lexie. You can chill with us,” Lisa said.
I accepted her invite, not wanting to be rude and not wanting to make them mad. I sat down in the brown armchair. Reena was already sitting on the couch, and something told me not to sit next to her. I stared at the floor because I wasn’t sure what else to do.
“Hey, you’re back,” Lisa said.
I looked up and saw her walk over to kiss the sweaty boy who’d just arrived.
“Who’s this?” he said, nodding at me.
“Alexia,” Lisa said, “but her friends call her Lexie.”
“Hey, Alexia,” the boy said. “I’m Brandon.” He nodded toward the couch. “And that’s Reena over there.”
“They’ve already met,” Lisa said.
“Brandon’s a big bad football player and wrestler,” Reena teased.
He made a face at her. “That’s right,” he said. “I am. I just got done with a run.” He looked at me now. “I’m starting my training.”
“Oh,” I said. He sure seemed big and bad.
When I looked over at Reena she had her lips curled around a cigarette. She was as pretty as Lisa, but she made me nervous.
“Hey, Lexie. Want one?” Reena said, holding out another cigarette. “Or are you a little Goody Two-shoes?”
FADE IN: LONG SHOT (LS) of JESSICA sitting in a classroom with a bunch of other kids. Kids we’ve never seen before, some older, some the same age. It’s obvious this is a classroom devoted to writing. There are books all along the walls, plenty of computers, and an assortment of papers, pencils, pens, and highlighters. All the students are working. Some of them are drafting, others editing, and one is conferencing with the instructor.
JESSICA VOICE-OVER (VO)
I spent the bulk of my summer in New York City at Columbia University, participating in a writing camp. A couple of times a week Mom would ride the train into the city from New Haven. She’d work on her own writing while I was at camp, then we’d spend time together in the afternoon and evening. The camp was amazing. I had to submit a piece when I applied, and based on that I was accepted. I wrote about Mr. Terupt. That was easy. He’s the best man
in the world. I was fortunate I’d be having him as my teacher again, and to have been selected for the writing program. My favorite part of the camp was our unit spent on screenwriting.
FADE OUT.
For me, a few things stood out from the summer. My mom still worked a few days a week at her school, doing library stuff and helping with the summer programs, but I got to spend a lot of time with her. Mom was also spending time with Charlie, and she was very happy. It made me feel good. I liked Charlie too. Mom also kept busy with her artwork. She entered one of her pieces in a show in New York City. We got to go down there for a few days, which was a lot of fun. I even visited with Jessica. She was in some sort of writing camp taking place at Columbia University. The four of us, our moms and me and Jessica, had lunch in some fancy little café.
I also saw Danielle over the summer. Mom and I would go to the farm and visit—Charlie didn’t just come to our house. Danielle’s mom and dad were more accepting of me and Mom now, so it wasn’t that big a deal for us to go over to their place. Her grandma and grandpa still never spoke to us, however. But the farm was great! My favorite part was helping Charlie and Danielle with the nighttime milking. My first time doing it, Charlie said, “Anna, come take a look at this.” He was sitting beside one of the cows, getting ready to put the machine on her. When I bent closer to look, he squeezed her teat and milk shot into my face.
“You just fell for the oldest trick in the book,” Danielle said, laughing.
The other thing I did over the summer was help Mr. Terupt move our classroom down to the sixth-grade annex. I did this on those days Mom had to work, though Mom even came to help a few times. Peter helped too, or tried to. Somehow his good intentions often turned into mess-ups, but I had fun with him. Most of the time I was laughing. Like the day he crammed all he could into one box. I tried to warn him, but he didn’t want to listen. When it was time to lift the box, Peter grunted and groaned. He turned all red in the face just getting it off the ground. As soon as he stood up, the bottom of the box fell out. Stuff crashed to the floor and scattered everywhere. I tried not to laugh, but that was hard.
Then Peter tried carrying more than one box, but he hurt himself (in the bad spot) because he couldn’t see where he was going. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the next thing he did was let loose a terrible-smelling fart. Then he tried to blame Lexie for it. Imagine her farting—please!