The Beast in Ms. Rooney's Room, Page 2

  Behind him there was a lot of noise. He turned around to look.

  It was his old class, marching into the auditorium.

  Not boy-girl, boy-girl. That was for babies.

  No. First there was a line of boys. Then a line of girls.

  They marched right into the row behind him.

  Quickly he turned his head around again. He looked at the blue curtain in front of the stage.

  Mr. Mancina, the principal, turned out the lights.

  In front of the auditorium the curtain opened.

  A lady came out. “Today we're going to have Hansel and Gretel,” she said. “I know you're going ro love it.”

  Richard didn't think he was going to love it. He had seen it last year at the library.

  It was terrible.

  The lady went back inside. Two puppets came floating down from the ceiling.

  Hansel and Gretel.

  In back of him Richard could hear Drake Evans talking with Kevin Klein.

  He wondered if they knew he was sitting right in front of them. He kept his head straight so they couldn't see his face.

  He wondered if they knew the back of his neck.

  Hansel and Gretel were sprinkling bread crumbs all over the stage.

  They were yelling as they sprinkled.

  After a while Richard's neck started to feel stiff from keeping it so straight.

  He was afraid to rub it.

  Maybe they knew what his hand looked like.

  He wished he had a pencil and a piece of paper. He wished he could draw a picture. He'd draw a picture of Saturday, when his father was home all day.

  Drake and Kevin were laughing.

  Maybe they were laughing at him.

  Suddenly Emily turned around. “Shh,” she hissed at them.

  Richard slid down in his seat.

  For a moment Drake and Kevin were quiet.

  Then Drake said, “Don't talk, Kevin. The babies want to watch Hansel and GreteL”

  Richard gulped.

  “Richard wants to watch Hansel and Gretel,” Drake said. “Don't you?”

  Richard stared at the stage. His mouth felt dry.

  Emily put her feet up on the seat in front of her again.

  Richard felt Drake giving him a little poke in the back. “Right, Richard?” Drake asked.

  Up on the stage the witch was putting Hansel into some kind of cage thing. “Ha, ha, ha,” she was saying in a scratchy old voice.

  “Richard likes this baby puppet show,” Drake said.

  Richard swiveled around. He was going to hit Drake Evans. He was going to—

  His elbow caught Emily's arm. Hard.

  “Ouch,” she said.

  “Who is that?” Mrs. Kettle whispered in a loud voice. She poked her head into Richard's aisle. “Is that you, Emily?”

  Emily ducked her head.

  “Get out here,” Mrs. Kettle said. “Stand against the wall.”

  Slowly Emily stood up. Her face was all red.

  It's my fault, Richard wanted to say. But all the kids in his old class were sitting right there, looking at them.

  Emily didn't say anything. She squeezed past him. She marched over to the wall.

  She looked as if she wanted to cry.

  But she didn't cry. She took her white rubber horse with the horn out of her pocket and held it in her hand.

  Emily was tough.

  Tougher than he was.

  Up on the stage Gretel was dancing around.

  Richard sighed. He wished it were summertime again. He wished he were fishing with his father.

  He wished at least it were Saturday.

  Chapter 5

  Richard raised his hand.

  Ms. Rooney was writing something up at her desk. She didn't look up.

  He wiggled his hand around a little.

  “Ms. Rooney,” he called in a loud whisper.

  She looked up and frowned. “You're supposed to raise your hand,” she said.

  “Can I sharpen my pencil?”

  “How many times have you sharpened that pencil today?”

  “There's one spot of wood on the pencil. I can't write with that side,” he said.

  “How many times?” Ms. Rooney asked.

  “Three, I think.”

  “Four,” said Sherri Dent from the desk next to Richard.

  “This is the last time,” said Ms. Rooney.

  Richard went up to the pencil sharpener. Hestood there for a long time, looking out the window. It was a great day outside. Great for football.

  Slowly he went back to his seat. He copied the last sentence of his board work.

  It was a letter. A long one. Everyone in the class had to copy a thank-you to the P.T.A. for the puppet show they had seen the other day.

  He put down his pencil and rubbed the side of his middle finger.

  Then he looked at his letter. It was kind of a mess. Some parts were dark and some parts were light.

  His pencil was terrible.

  He looked up at the clock. The little hand was on the ten. The big hand was on the five.

  Almost time for reading with Mrs. Paris.

  He reached into his desk. He pulled out the pictures he had cut out of an old magazine the night before.

  Pictures of things with short a's in them.

  An apple. A turkey with some cranberry sauce next to it.

  Cranberry. Craaan, he whispered to himself.Right. He drew a circle around the cranberry sauce with his pencil.

  A picture of a star. A cat eating from a bowl of cereal. A baby.

  Baby. Baaaby. He looked at the picture for a second. No. He crumpled it up and shoved it back in his desk.

  “Time for reading,” Ms. Rooney said.

  Now he had only four pictures. He was supposed to have five.

  If only he had brought the magazine with him. He could see it. Right on the hall table.

  Ms. Rooney had a bunch of magazines on the shelf in the corner. Maybe he could—

  “Reading,” Ms. Rooney said again.

  Richard stood up. He followed Matthew up the aisle. Then he darted over to the shelf and reached for the magazine.

  Ms. Rooney sighed. “Richard,” she said. “Tut that down. Mrs. Paris is waiting.”

  Richard looked at the magazine for a moment.There was a picture of a girl in a hat right on the front cover.

  It was perfect.

  “Richard …“Ms. Rooney began.

  Richard put the magazine back in the pile. He raced out of the room after the rest of the kids.

  He made sure he stayed behind Emily Arrow. He had tried not to look at her all morning. He didn't like to think about what had happened in the auditorium yesterday.

  He wondered if Emily felt bad.

  He wondered if she had told her father.

  He passed the fifth-grade room. Holly's class. He went back and looked in the little window in the door. Holly's head was bent over her desk.

  Her friend Joanne was sitting in front of her.

  Up in the front of the classroom was the blue banner. Holly's class had won it for the week.

  Lucky.

  He caught up with Matthew just as they opened the door to Mrs. Paris's room.

  Mrs. Paris was sitting at the table waiting for them.

  He reached for a piece of drawing paper from the pile in the middle of the table.

  While Emily was telling Mrs. Paris about what she wanted to be when she grew up, Richard tried to think of something interesting with an a in it. A short a. Something better than a hat. Something he could draw.

  “You know,” Emily said. “A person who does somersaults. On a mat. In the Olympics.” She smiled. “Or maybe a runner. Like Uni.” She held up her rubber animal. “My unicorn.”

  Richard bent his head over the paper and began to draw.

  “Well, now,” Mrs. Paris said. She reached into the drawer under the table. “Dried figs,” she said. She put a bunch of them on the table in front of her. “Help yourself.
”

  They were little brown rolled-up things.

  They probably tasted horrible.

  Ordinarily Richard wouldn't have tried them.But the morning was only half over, and he hadn't finished his cereal at breakfast.

  He stuck a fig in his mouth and tried to chew it without tasting it.

  “Who wants to show us a picture of short aV Mrs. Paris asked, her mouth full of fig.

  Matthew held up a picture of an apple.

  It was just like Richard's.

  Matthew's mother probably got the same magazines as his mother.

  Emily held up a picture of a cat.

  Richard held up his picture of a star.

  “Ah,” said Mrs. Paris. “Not exactly.”

  “Bossy r,” said Emily in a loud voice.

  “Right, Emily,” Mrs. Paris said.

  Bossy r, Richard thought. What was that all about? It sounded familiar somehow. He looked at Emily out of the corner of his eye.

  “Bossy r,” said Emily, “means that r changes the sound of the a. It doesn't sound like a, apple. It just sounds like r. Ar, star.” She raised her shoulders up in the air.

  “Park,” said Alex.

  “Terrific,” Mrs. Paris said. “Got it, Richard?”

  Richard nodded. “I remember now.”

  “It's all right to forget,” Mrs. Paris said. “I still haven't remembered to clean this room.”

  Richard looked around. She was right. The room was still in a big mess. The bunnies and tulips were gone but the same old blue paper covered the bulletin board. It had five dark spots where the tulips and bunnies had been.

  Mrs. Paris was looking at the rest of the pictures. All of them except the picture Richard had drawn.

  Maybe she hadn't been counting. Maybe she didn't know that he had only four pictures and everyone else had five. Maybe she wouldn't ask.

  But then he looked down at his drawing. He liked it.

  He pushed it across the table. “I drew this,” he said.

  “Neat,” said Mrs. Paris. “Really neat.”

  Emily looked over Mrs. Paris's shoulder. “It's an-—” She stopped and grinned.

  Matthew leaned across the table. “An arrow.”

  “Aaaarrow. Emily Arrow,” Richard said. For the first time he looked at Emily. “It has an r. But it's not a bossy one.”

  Mrs. Paris smiled. “There's always something to mix people up, isn't there? It's called an exception to the rule.”

  Mrs. Paris held up his picture. “Let's hang this up. We'll stick it right in the middle of the bulletin board.” She reached back on her desk and handed Richard a thumbtack. “Go ahead.”

  Richard marched up to the bulletin board. He stuck the arrow up over one of the dark spots.

  The arrow looked good. But the rest of the bulletin board looked terrible.

  Chapter 6

  Richard hated Thursdays.

  His mother worked late and he had to walk home with his big sister, Holly.

  She and her friend Joanne were always the last ones out.

  Richard waited on the stone steps in front of the school.

  He watched some ants come out of a little hole in the middle step. They headed for someone's leftover cookie on the bottom step.

  After a few minutes there were about a hundred ants rushing back and forth.

  He built a little stick bridge to help them out.

  One of the ants spotted it and climbed up. After a few minutes they were all marching along on the stick.

  Richard stood up and peered through the window into the hall.

  Holly and Joanne were all the way down the other end. They were talking and laughing and acting as if they'd be an hour just walking down one hall.

  They didn't care that he had to waste his whole afternoon waiting for them.

  He went back and watched the ants.

  At last Holly and Joanne opened the door. They started down the path. Richard jumped off the steps and followed them.

  They went down Cole Street. Instead of crossing at the corner, they turned in at the big doors of the library.

  “Got to get a book for a book report,” Holly called over her shoulder. “A book report on James K. Polk.”

  Richard caught up with them. “Who?” he asked as they opened the doors.

  “Polk,” Holly said again.

  “Who's that?”

  “He doesn't know anything,” Holly told Joanne.

  “I do so.”

  “It's a president,” Joanne said.

  “Don't you even know the name of your school?” Holly asked.

  “Polk Street,” Richard said. “That's a president's name?” He shook his head. “He's got a funny first name.”

  Holly started to laugh. She leaned against Joanne. “I told you, Joanne,” she said after a minute. “He's a dummy.”

  “Not Polk Street,” Joanne said. “The school is on Polk Street. They're both named for President Polk. President James K. Polk.”

  “Don't try to tell him,” Holly said. “He doesn't even know George Washington.”

  “I do so,” Richard said.

  “Or Christopher Columbus.”

  “I do so.”

  “Who was he?”

  Richard stopped. “A president.”

  Holly and Joanne went over to one of the tables. “Dumb,” Holly said.

  “I remember now,” Richard said. He felt like clipping Holly right on her frizzy brown hair. “I remember the whole thing. Christopher Columbusdiscovered America. He had three boats. I even know their names.”

  But they weren't paying any attention.

  He went to the back to look for his favorite book. The one with the red cover and all the pictures.

  Last time he was there, he had hidden it.

  He knelt down next to one of the racks. He looked on the bottom shelf.

  It wasn't there.

  It was gone. He wondered if he'd ever find it again.

  He stood up. He bumped right into Drake Evans.

  “What are you doing here?” Drake asked.

  “Reading.” Richard stepped around him. He pretended to be looking for a book.

  “Reading what?” Drake asked.

  “Watch out,” Richard said over his shoulder. “I saw Ms. Rooney checking over her marking book yesterday.”

  Drake followed him down the aisle. “You're lying, Richard,” he said.

  Richard pulled a book off the shelf. It was a fat one. Huge.

  He opened it up and made believe he was reading it.

  “You can't read that,” Drake said.

  “lean so.”

  Drake started to laugh. “You have to go to remedial reading.”

  “Special,” Richard said. “Special reading.”

  “Because you can't read. Baby.”

  Baby. Richard pushed at his teeth with his tongue.

  “That's not true,” he said, keeping his top lip down as far as he could.

  Drake started to walk away.

  “It's special reading for the smart kids,” Richard said.

  Drake looked back. “Kids who wet the bed,” he said. “Like your friend Matthew.”

  “He's not my friend,” Richard said. He wondered how Drake knew so much about everything.

  Drake laughed again. “He's your friend, all right. He told me. And you both go to baby reading.”

  Richard looked down at his book. “I have to do a report,” he said. “That's why I'm reading this book. I have to do a report on—”

  “On kindergarten stuff,” Drake said.

  “No,” Richard said. “On James K. Polk. I bet you don't even know who that is.”

  Drake pushed him. “You just made him up. There's no such person.”

  “I knew it,” Richard said. “That's why Mr. Mancina told me to—”

  “To what?”

  “To find out who the dumb kids are. To see who should have been left back instead of me. The kids who bother everyone. The kids who don't even know that James
K. Polk was a president.”

  “Liar.”

  “Besides,” said Richard, “Mr. Mancina said we were going to get the banner. Just because of me. Just because—”

  He closed his mouth. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

  He backed down the aisle with Drake still looking at him.

  “Hey,” a voice said from in back of the magazine rack. “Beast.”

  He twirled around.

  It was Emily Arrow. She was sitting on the floor paging through a book.

  “Hi,” he said. He wondered if she had heard him talking to Drake. He wondered if she had told her father that she had to stand against the wall all because of him.

  “Did you say we're going to get the banner?” she asked.

  He looked back down the aisle. Drake was gone.

  “Uh. Well,” he said. He went over to the magazine rack. “I meant to tell you.” He swallowed. “I'm sorry.”

  “About the wall?” She pulled the horse with the horn out of her pocket. “It's all right. I'm tough. I've got my unicorn.” She galloped him across her book. “He makes me tough.”

  “I know you're tough,” Richard said.

  “Mr. Mancina told you we were going to get the banner?”

  He sank down on the floor next to her. “No, I made it up.”

  “Let's try for it,” Emily said.

  “How?”

  “I don't know.” Emily shook her head.

  Richard looked up at the front desk. Drake was checking out some books. Three or four. Big ones with hard covers.

  “I wish we could,” Richard said.

  “Come on, Richard,” Holly called from the front.

  “I have to go now,” he said.

  Emily's head was bent over her book. “I wish I could read this,” she said, “instead of looking at all the pictures.”

  Richard didn't say anything. He followed Holly out the door. He turned back to wave at Emily before he shut the door behind him.

  Chapter 7

  Richard was in early the next morning.

  There were only about six kids in the classroom.

  Emily Arrow was sitting on top of her desk. She was showing Ms. Rooney her white unicorn.

  Alex was watering the plants.

  Sherri Dent was telling Alex to stop spilling water on the floor.

  Wayne was standing at the science table in the back. He was the shortest kid in the class and had the biggest teeth. He was dropping tiny dots of powdered food into the fishbowl he had brought in the other day.