I looked at Nancy and Bobby. “Gotta go,” I said.
“Me too,” said my friends.
“Come back after lunch.”
“Okay!”
We called good-bye to each other. Then I ran into the little house. Mommy and Seth were in the kitchen.
“What’s for lunch?” I asked.
“Sandwiches,” said Mommy.
“Make-your-owns,” added Seth.
“Goody.”
Spread out on the table were peanut butter, jelly, salami, ham, cheese, cream cheese, pickles, lettuce, and more. I began making a fat sandwich. I was squirting a mustard happy face onto a piece of ham when Mommy said, “Where is Andrew?”
“Still outside, I guess,” I replied.
“I will go get him,” said Seth.
But before he had left the kitchen, we heard a horrible squealing of car brakes from the street. It sounded like this: eeeeeeEEECH.
Mommy’s hands flew to her face. “Andrew!” she cried.
Mommy and Seth and I ran outside. The first thing we saw was Andrew. He was standing by the front steps. And he was just fine. But in the street was a car. One wheel had driven over the curb. A woman was opening the front door. She stepped out. She looked angry and scared at the same time.
“I almost hit your dog!” she yelled.
“Where is she?” asked Seth.
Andrew pointed. There was Midgie. She was cowering underneath a bush near Andrew. Midgie looked scared, too.
“I — ” Seth began to say. “I — I’m terribly sorry,” he called to the woman. “The dog was supposed to be in the house. Wasn’t she?” he said to Andrew and me. He glared at us.
The woman did not say anything. She just ducked inside her car and drove off. Seth ran to Midgie. He picked her up and talked softly to her for a few minutes. Then he put her inside.
“Karen, Andrew,” said Mommy. “How did Midgie get out?”
“Who left the door open?” asked Seth. He was running back outside.
“Karen did,” said Andrew.
“I did not!”
“Yes, you did. You left it open when you went inside for lunch.”
“But I really didn’t,” I said. “I remembered to close it.”
No one believed me.
“Karen, you have left the door open too many times,” said Seth.
“Didn’t we say,” added Mommy, “that if the door was left open, Rocky and Midgie could escape and they might get hurt?”
“Yes,” I said in a small voice.
“You will have to be punished, Karen,” Mommy went on. “And your punishment is that you may not sing your solo in the jamboree.”
Pamela
I could not believe it. No solo? I had earned that solo fair and square. And I really wanted to sing it in front of the school on Jamboree Night. But Mommy and Seth believed Andrew the tattletale. And why shouldn’t they? I had left that door open a million times.
So on Monday, I had to do something I really did not want to do. I had to tell Ms. Colman about my punishment. I talked to her while the other kids were on the playground at recess.
“Is something wrong?” Ms. Colman asked me when I returned to our room after lunch. She was sitting at her desk. She was turning the pages in her lesson plan book.
“Yes,” I said sadly.
“Okay, let’s talk about it.”
(See why I love Ms. Colman? She is always understanding and fair. Not like some people I can think of.)
I drew in a breath. “All right. This is how it started. You know the screen door at the front of the little house?”
“Yes.” (Ms. Colman has been to my house several times.)
“Well, a little while ago, Seth put up a new one. Only it did not work very well. It closed, but not by itself. And Seth could not fix it right away. So he said to be sure and slam it shut until it is fixed. That way Rocky and Midgie would not be able to escape. Well, I kept forgetting to close it. And on Saturday, Midgie escaped and she almost got hit by a car.”
“Oh, no!”
“But she is fine. The car did not touch her.”
“Good,” said Ms. Colman.
“Here is the thing,” I went on. “This time I did not leave the door open behind me. I know I closed it. But everyone thinks I left it open. So I got punished. I cannot sing my solo on Jamboree Night. That is what Mommy and Seth said.”
“Oh, Karen.” Ms. Colman sighed. She looked very sad for me.
“Well, I am going to prove that I did not leave the door open,” I said. “Somehow. Then I will be able to sing the solo.”
“What if you cannot do that?” asked my teacher. “What if you are not able to prove who left the door open?”
“We-ell …”
“I am afraid I will have to tell Mrs. Noonan about this,” Ms. Colman went on. “She has to know. She will want to make sure that Pamela is ready to sing instead. Just in case.”
I scrunched up my face. “Boo,” I said.
Sure enough, that is just what Mrs. Noonan wanted to do. She talked to Pamela and me that afternoon.
“Pamela, you should be prepared to sing Karen’s solo on Jamboree Night,” Mrs. Noonan said.
“Oh, really?” Pamela tried hard not to smile, but I could see the corners of her mouth twitch.
“Mrs. Noonan, I really, really, really think I will be able to sing the solo,” I said. “Because I am going to find out who left that door open. Then I will not be in trouble anymore.”
“But what if you cannot do it?”
I squirmed. “I — I don’t know.”
Back in our classroom, Pamela pranced around. “I was just made for singing solos,” she exclaimed. “My voice can carry to the back of the auditorium. I will be a star.”
“You guys,” I said to Hannie and Nancy, “we have to do something.”
The only problem was that we did not know what to do.
Switch Day
One morning, Ms. Colman said, “Girls and boys, have you been thinking about Switch Day? Have you decided whether you would like to be a teacher or somebody for a day?”
“Yes,” said half the kids in my class.
“No,” said the rest of them.
“Well, start thinking. You can enter the lottery for any of the teachers or other grown-up roles. You may enter each lottery only once, but you may enter as many lotteries as you like. You can enter for the next three days. On Friday, the names will be drawn.”
At lunchtime, I sat in the cafeteria with Hannie, Nancy, Addie, Natalie, and the twins.
“Who here wants to be a teacher on Switch Day?” I asked.
“Me!” said Addie, Nancy, Terri, and I.
“Not me,” said Hannie. “I want to be the janitor or something fun.”
“I want to work in the principal’s office,” said Natalie.
“I want to be the principal,” said Tammy.
Cool. Be the principal. I had not thought about that. I only wanted to be Ms. Colman. Or maybe … a great idea was coming to me. “I want to be Ms. Colman,” I announced. “Or Mrs. Pazden. If I cannot be Ms. Colman then I want to be the nurse. Wouldn’t that be awesome? I would get to put Band-Aids on skinned knees — ”
“Like mine,” said Hannie.
“ — and put ice on bruises and let kids lie on the cot.”
Natalie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. You could see a lot of blood, Karen,” she said.
“I do not mind blood.”
The more I thought about it, the cooler being the nurse sounded. I decided I would try for both Ms. Colman and Mrs. Pazden. (But I wanted to be Ms. Colman more than anything.) Nancy decided to try for a kindergarten teacher or a first-grade teacher, and Hannie decided to sign up for every job that was not a teaching job.
When we had made our decisions, we told Ms. Colman what jobs to sign us up for. Then we sat back and waited for Friday.
On Friday afternoon we heard a voice over the speaker in our classroom. “Attention! May I have your a
ttention, please, students?” (It was Mrs. Titus, our principal.) “I will now read the names of the students who were chosen to be teachers or hold other jobs on Switch Day.” Mrs. Titus started reading. Her list was very long. When she came to the kids in my class, she said, “Karen Brewer will be Mrs. Pazden, our nurse. Nancy Dawes will be an aide in Mr. Posner’s kindergarten. Bobby Gianelli will be a lunchroom monitor. Pamela Harding will be Ms. Colman.” (I could not help turning around and shooting a mean look at Pamela.) “Hannie Papadakis will be a cafeteria worker.”
Mrs. Titus kept on reading practically forever. But I had stopped listening to her. I was listening to my friends instead. Some of them were cheering. Pamela was one of them.
“You better watch out,” she said. “I am going to be a very strict teacher.”
“I thought you were going to be Ms. Colman,” I said.
“Oh, be quiet, Karen,” replied Pamela. “You are just mad because you cannot sing your solo.”
I shot another Look at Pamela. Then I decided to think about being Mrs. Pazden. I would be a very nice nurse. I would be kind to everyone except Pamela. If Pamela came into my office, I would put stingy medicine on her skinned knee and not let her lie on the cot. So there.
The Three Investigators
That afternoon, the Three Musketeers gathered at my house. We sat on the front steps in the warm sunshine. A pitcher of lemonade was on a tray. Behind us, the screen door was shut. That was because it was fixed. Seth had fixed it right after Midgie’s awful adventure. Now we did not have to think about slamming it. That was nice. The not-nice thing was that I still had not proved I did not need to be punished. B.O.O. A.N.D. B.U.L.L.F.R.O.G.S.
“Anniversary week starts on Monday,” said Nancy. She poured herself some more lemonade.
“Yup. Just three more days,” added Hannie.
“Let’s practice for Switch Day,” I said.
“Okay,” replied Nancy. “Watch me. I am going to pretend I am teaching kindergarteners.” Nancy set her glass on the tray. She stood up. “Now, children,” she began, “it is naptime. Please find your resting mats.”
“Wah! Wah!” Hannie cried. “I do not want to take a nap.”
Nancy began to giggle.
“Me neither,” I said. “I want storytime.”
“You have to take naps!” shouted Nancy.
We were all laughing then, so Hannie said, “Okay, my turn. I am going to serve you a delicious lunch.” Hannie stood up, and Nancy sat down. “Girls and boys, today we have a yummy selorction.”
“Selection,” I corrected her.
“Selection. Um, okay, it is bird’s beak stew with molasses.”
We were all giggling again by the time Hannie sat down.
I stood up. “Okay, now I will be Mrs. Pazden. And one of you has to be Pamela. And you come in with a skinned knee.”
“I will be Pamela,” said Hannie, “since I already have the skinned knee.” Hannie bent over. “Ooh, ooh,” she moaned. “Mrs. Pazden, I was pretending to be Ms. Colman and I fell and skinned my knee.”
“Here, dear. Let me put this stuff on it.”
“OW! OW! OW!” yelled Hannie.
“Sorry, dear. Did I hurt you?” I asked.
We played Switch Day for awhile longer. Then we practiced our medley for the jamboree. (At least I could sing the medley, even if I could not sing the solo.) And then Hannie got an idea.
“Instead of being the Three Musketeers, let’s be the Three Investigators this afternoon,” she said.
“The Three Investigators? Why?” I asked.
“Because,” said Hannie, “we can be detectives and try to figure out who really left the door open. Maybe we can get you out of trouble, Karen.”
“Cool,” said Nancy. “We can re-enact the crime. We will play it over again, just the way it really happened.”
That was a good idea, except that we could not quite do it. For one thing, Seth was not home. For another, the door was fixed. It would not stick open the way it used to do. Plus, Mommy and Andrew were busy fixing his tricycle in the garage.
“Well, all right,” said Hannie. “Nancy and I will be Seth and your mother, Karen. We will stay in the kitchen and pretend to fix lunch with you. Where was Andrew?”
“Outside,” I said. “He had not come in yet.”
My friends and I looked at each other. “Now what?” asked Nancy.
We shrugged. We did not know what to do next.
“Darn, darn. Boo and bullfrogs,” I said. “What if we cannot solve the mystery by Friday? Pamela will get to sing my solo. And be Ms. Colman.”
Meanie-mo Andrew.
Field Day
I was mad at Andrew. I was mad at Pamela. I was mad about my solo, and mad I could not be Ms. Colman on Switch Day. But even so, guess what? When I woke up on Monday morning, I thought, Today is the day of the science fair. Today our anniversary week begins! And I was excited.
The science fair was cool. I had not entered it, but Nancy had. And Bobby and Ricky and Audrey had. The projects were on display in the gym. My class went to the gym just before lunch to look at them. Nancy was proud of hers. She had made a terrarium. She had planted some ferns in a glass bowl, and she had watered them. She said if you left the cover on it, the terrarium could water itself. Nancy said it demonstrated how rain waters the earth. (Nancy won second prize in our grade.)
On Tuesday, I woke up feeling even more excited than I had on Monday. That was because Tuesday was Field Day. It started off first thing in the morning.
“Who is ready to go to the playground?” Ms. Colman asked my class.
That was a silly question. We were all ready to go. Whether we were going to take part in Field Day, or just watch. Ms. Colman led us down the hall. When we reached the doors, we burst outside. We joined the other screaming, running kids.
Bleachers had been set up at the edge of our playing fields. Some parents were already sitting there. A lot of parents had to work, but some had been able to come watch Field Day. Mommy was one of them. (Andrew was at his preschool.)
I waved to Mommy. Then I joined Nancy. The three-legged race was the very first event of the day, and Nancy was my partner. We would be racing against the other second-grade teams. One of those teams was Pamela and Jannie.
When it was our turn, Mr. Prata called, “Take your marks, get set, go!”
Nancy and I took off. “Faster, Nancy!” I yelled.
“I can’t go faster. I will — oof — fall.” Nancy had fallen anyway. I fell on top of her.
“Come on! Get up!” I cried.
We struggled to our feet. But we could not catch up. Pamela and Jannie sailed across the finish line. They won the race.
Later in the morning it was time for my running race. Hannie and Nancy had signed up for it, too. We had decided ahead of time that we would run as fast as we could and not worry about beating each other. It turned out that this did not matter. Liddie Yuan from Mr. Berger’s class won the race.
Finally, it was time for the sack race. That was my last event of Field Day. Hannie and Nancy were in that race, too. So was Pamela. When everyone had lined up in their sacks, I found myself between Hannie and … Pamela.
“I beat you in the three-legged race,” Pamela whispered to me, “and I am going to beat you again now.”
“Are not.”
“Am too.”
The race began.
I jumped as fast as I could. “Do — not — fall — do — not — fall,” I muttered as I hopped along.
And then I fell. Someone fell on me.
“Get off!” I squawked.
“I can’t!” It was Pamela.
Pamela and I were all tangled up. We tied for last place in the race. We could not stop giggling. I remembered that sometimes Pamela can be okay.
The Kids Run the School
Wednesday was Switch Day. That was my favorite day of our anniversary week. Even though one thing happened right away in the morning that I did not like very much. This is w
hat it was:
When Nancy and I walked into our classroom, Ms. Colman was already there. “Karen?” she said. “Could I see you for a moment?”
I did not think this was a good sign.
“Yes?” I said. I sat at my desk. Ms. Colman sat at hers. (Our desks face each other, since sometimes Ms. Colman needs to keep an eye on me. In case I talk too much or get out of hand.)
“Karen, I am sorry, but it seems there was a mix-up in the drawing for the person to be Mrs. Pazden today.”
“There was?” I said in a small voice. Darn. Boo and bullfrogs, I thought. First Andrew gets me in trouble, and now I cannot be nurse for a day after all.
“So you will share the job with another student,” Ms. Colman was saying. “Jack Bahadurian will be the nurse in the morning. You will take over for the afternoon.”
Oh. That was not so bad.
Well, guess what happened next. Ms. Colman sat down. She sat at Pamela’s desk. Pamela sat down at Ms. Colman’s desk.
“Okay, class,” said Pamela. “I am your teacher today. You may call me Miss Harding. I will have two assistants. They are Miss Morris and Miss Gilbert.” (Leslie and Jannie smiled at us.) “They will be helping me out.”
Miss Harding took roll. She made some announcements about what we were going to do that day. They were not as much fun as Ms. Colman’s Surprising Announcements, but they were okay. And then … Pamela started teaching. And she really taught us something. She was not mean. She did not try to give us hard tests or anything. Instead she spent the morning teaching us about … holidays. I was so surprised. For reading, Pamela read us a story called Imani’s Gift at Kwanzaa. For math we made calendars with the dates of all sorts of holidays on them. For spelling we made lists of words such as Rosh Hashanah, and independence. I was almost sorry when Miss Gilbert told us to line up for lunch. (I lined up behind Ms. Colman.)
In the cafeteria, Hannie put my lunch on my tray. A fifth-grader collected my money. And later, Bobby had to tell me to quiet down. I did not care. It was time for me to be Mrs. Pazden.
When I walked into Mrs. Pazden’s office, Jack Bahadurian was getting ready to leave. Mrs. Pazden was sitting on a little chair. “Hi, Karen,” she said. “I am going to be your assistant.”