Because of Mr. Terupt Page 4

  The number of blades of grass in our soccer field equals 77,537,412. This isn’t an exact answer, of course, but it is an accurate estimate based on all our calculations. Phew! I learned so much doing that project. It wasn’t the stupid easy stuff I was used to getting from my teachers, that’s for sure. We were math wizards (dollar word).

  Jessica

  Act 3, Scene 1

  Things weren’t going well. I had betrayed Alexia by being nice to Danielle, thinking that this was what Belle Teal would have done, and then Danielle suddenly turned on me. Without warning. I knew Alexia was behind it. I was alone—except for the friends I had in my books, like Belle—and Anna.

  In November Mr. Terupt introduced us to a book that the whole class would be reading, The Summer of the Swans by Betsy Byars. I had never read this one—or anything by Ms. Byars, for that matter.

  “This book won the Newbery Medal back in 1971,” Mr. Terupt said. He held the book up. “It’s not full of action like you guys tend to think of action, but it is a beautifully written book that’s going to give us an awful lot to think about, learn from, and maybe even change because of.”

  I straightened up. I was excited. Peter moaned. As for Alexia—well, she was somewhere in la-la land. The boys made faces and the girls exchanged glances. Then Mr. Terupt went a step further.

  “We’re not just going to read this book,” he said. “We’re going to do an activity with it. An ongoing activity. More like an experience.”

  Now even Alexia was listening, back from outer space.

  “What kind of activity?” Peter demanded. “Not some sort of stupid book project, I hope. I hate those.”

  “No. No project. I don’t really like those things, either,” Mr. Terupt said.

  What did he have in mind? I wondered.

  “You’re going to make us dress up as a character, aren’t you?” Alexia said. “Oh, I love doing that.”

  “Get real,” Peter said.

  “Will you guys be quiet and let Terupt finish,” Jeffrey said.

  That worked. No more interruptions, and Mr. Terupt continued.

  “I want you guys to think about this book. In the story, there’s a boy with Down syndrome—that’s a mental disorder—named Charlie, and his older sister, not much older than you guys, named Sara. They have a pretty special relationship. That’s what I want all of you to think about.” Mr. Terupt stopped for a second, yet somehow we stayed quiet. He continued, “So what you’re going to do is visit our Collaborative Classroom downstairs over the next few weeks. You’ll go in groups, in the mornings and the afternoons, and simply spend time with these children doing what it is that they do.”

  “Mr. Terupt.” I raised my hand. “What exactly is the Collaborative Classroom?” Still being relatively new to the school, I didn’t know.

  “It’s where the retards go,” Peter said.

  Alexia laughed.

  “I hope you’ll answer that question a little differently after this experience, Peter,” Mr. Terupt said, his tone very serious. Peter didn’t say another word. “It’s a classroom for children with a range of special needs, Jessica,” Mr. Terupt continued. “Some of you are probably a little nervous or even scared. That’s why you’ll go in groups. I hope you’ll feel different afterward, too.”

  Act 3, Scene 2

  My group consisted of Anna and Jeffrey. I still hadn’t quite figured Jeffrey out. On the other hand, I’d been eating lunch with Anna ever since being ostracized by Alexia and her clan. Danielle was back in; I was out. But I didn’t want back in. I much preferred my time with Anna. She’s quiet, but she’s a lot smarter than everyone thinks. She’s the only girl smart enough to stay out of Alexia’s nonsense. Her mom’s advice, she told me. We haven’t talked about her mom or any of the stuff I learned from Danielle, and I haven’t told her anything about me, either. For now, we’ve kept our secrets, and that’s okay. I like Anna. She’d make a great friend to a character in a book, or in one of Dad’s plays. I know she’s going to be a great friend of mine.

  We were very quiet on our first trip downstairs. Not one of us uttered a single sound. My hands longed to hold a book, but I hadn’t brought one, so I bit at my fingernails and cuticles instead. It’s funny how when you’re anxious to get somewhere the journey seems to take forever, and when you’re not too anxious the journey is over in no time. My journey from California lasted about as long as a ride on the Viper roller coaster, and our journey to the Collaborative Classroom took no time at all, either.

  When we arrived, it was clear the teacher was expecting us.

  “Hi, guys,” she said. “Welcome to our Collaborative Classroom. I’m Miss Kelsey.” We introduced ourselves and then she led us inside. “This is Joey.” Miss Kelsey pointed to a little boy with boogers all over his face. “Can you say hi to our friends, Joey?” Miss Kelsey asked. Joey waved in our direction. A gigantic smile stretched across his face. “And this is James over here,” Miss Kelsey said, pointing to a different boy. James looked pretty normal to me. He didn’t say hi to us, though. He didn’t even look at us. “This is Emily over here.” The little girl Miss Kelsey pointed to was very cute. She had drool all over her face and hands and arms, and she moaned a lot. A different teacher used sign language as she tried to communicate with Emily. The teacher struggled to maintain eye contact with her. She told Emily to say hi. “That’s Mrs. Warner helping Emily right now.” Emily tried to say hi to us, but I could tell she wasn’t particularly good at talking.

  There were a few other children in the room and Miss Kelsey eventually introduced us to all of them. I became distracted at this point because Jeffrey had walked over to Joey and started playing the game Memory with him. I couldn’t believe it. I heard him say, “That’s a great job, Joey. You’re really smart.” And Joey smiled. Anna and I were on our way out with Miss Kelsey and James and Emily to help them do their “jobs.” Before we left the room I saw Joey giving Jeffrey a big hug.

  Act 3, Scene 3

  Jobs turned out to be sorting the plastic forks, spoons, straws, and napkins for the cafeteria. Miss Kelsey poured the utensils on the table and James said, “Seven hundred twelve.” I looked at Anna, puzzled.

  “What do you mean, James?” I asked.

  “Seven hundred twelve,” he said again, looking down at the table.

  “Does he always say seven hundred twelve?” I asked. I figured he was yelling out random numbers.

  “No, James is telling us that there are seven hundred twelve utensils on the table,” Miss Kelsey said.

  “Seven hundred twelve utensils on the table,” James repeated, this time looking at Anna and me and swaying a little as he stood.

  “Great job, James!” Miss Kelsey sounded so excited. “You looked at our friends when you said that!”

  “Miss Kelsey, do you mean James is right?” Anna asked. “Are there really seven hundred twelve? Is it the same amount every day or something?”

  “Well, I haven’t actually counted them to double-check, and no, it’s not always seven hundred twelve, but James has never been wrong before,” Miss Kelsey said.

  Anna and I exchanged astonished looks. I was confused. James had done this amazing counting, but Miss Kelsey seemed more excited that he had looked at me. I wanted to ask questions, but decided to wait. I didn’t know if asking was appropriate.

  We finished up the jobs and walked back to get Jeffrey.

  Act 3, Scene 4

  Jeffrey was still playing with Joey, as well as a couple of other kids now. He was helping them paint.

  “Jeffrey,” I said. He looked up. “We have to go back now.”

  “Oh. Okay.” His shoulders slumped. He turned to the kids. “I’ve got to go, guys. I’ll be back soon.” Then it was hug time again.

  We thanked Miss Kelsey and headed back upstairs. We didn’t talk on the way through the halls. I think we each had too many thoughts in our brains. By the time we reached our classroom, Jeffrey was grumpy Jeffrey again. Our very own Dr. Jekyll and Mr.
Hyde, I thought.

  Jeffrey

  Peter called them retards, and Alexia laughed, like it was funny or somethin’. I shoulda just punched them then. It’s a good thing they weren’t in my group.

  I went downstairs with Jessica and Anna. They seemed a little scared, but I didn’t say anything.

  We walked into Miss Kelsey’s class and met the kids. They were great! Joey was full of love! All he wanted to do was play and hug me. He didn’t get upset about anything. Not even winning or losing when we played games. James was readin’ this big book when we first walked in. I could tell he was real smart. I figured he was autistic right away, ’cause he didn’t look at us or say a word. And little Emily was so cute. She needed lots of help, but who wouldn’t want to help her. They reminded me of Michael. Just like the Collaborative kids, Michael had the power to make you feel really good whenever you were with him. Love poured from him.

  I’ve never told anyone about Michael, and wasn’t gonna, but Jessica knew somethin’ was up. She’s pretty smart. She notices things.

  After we visited the Collaborative Classroom a few times, she came up to me at recess one day. I was sitting at the edge of the field, out where no one else ever comes. I was lookin’ through my football cards, putting them in piles by position.

  “You have a secret, don’t you, Jeffrey?” she said to me as she sat down.

  “What are you talkin’ about?” I said.

  “Who do you know with special needs?”

  I kept sorting my cards. I tried to ignore her. I wasn’t gonna tell her anything. Then she moved closer.

  “I’ve got a secret no one knows about, too. No one, not anyone at this school,” she said.

  “So why would you tell me?” I asked, lookin’ at her this time.

  “I was reading this book, Ida B, and in it the girl finally talks a little about her secret and it helps her out.”

  “You’re always reading,” I said.

  “The characters help me understand and think about things,” she said. “They help me know what to do.”

  QBs. Where was that pile? “Is that why you handle Alexia differently than any of the other girls?” I said.

  “I guess so.”

  “Well, you can tell me your secret. I’m listenin’.”

  “Can I look at some of those cards while I talk?” She reached for my running backs pile.

  “No!” I pushed her hand away. “Nobody ever touches my cards.” She was quiet. I mighta scared her a little. “Sorry,” I said.

  “I’ll just hold my book, then.” She was quiet for a minute. I waited, and she took a big breath. “My dad didn’t come to Connecticut with us,” she said. “He directs plays and found a girlfriend at his work. A beautiful actress from one of his productions. My mom decided we needed to get away from California and my father … so here we are.”

  I kept sorting my cards, but I was listenin’, and Jessica knew I was. After a few seconds she kept talkin’. She had more to get off her chest.

  “I didn’t want to come, but my mom told me I had no choice. Boy, was I ever angry with her. Angry like I’ve never been before. I figured my dad was dumping her, not me, so why did I have to leave, too? Silly, right? I could never live without my mom.”

  I stayed busy with my cards ’cause I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to ruin it for Jessica. She had a lot to tell. So I stayed quiet.

  “What I didn’t know at the time was that my dad wasn’t only dumping my mom, he was dumping me, too. The last time I talked to him was back in the beginning of the school year. He phoned to talk to me, but he hasn’t called since.”

  I knew what it was like to have a parent that didn’t talk to you. I had two. But I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothin’. Then recess ended.

  anna

  I was pretty scared when Mr. Terupt first told us about going to the Collaborative Classroom. I didn’t know those kids, only that they were gross and messy. But I didn’t complain.

  I was happy when I found out Jessica was in my group. She and I have been eating lunch together. She’s always reading and she’s smart, but she doesn’t act like a know-it-all. She tells me about her books if I ask, without giving away too much of the story. I wasn’t expecting or looking for a special friend, but Jessica showed up this year all the way from California, and I like her a lot. I’d like to ask her over to my house, but no one has ever come over before. I’m not sure what Mom would think. I’ll have to think about it some more.

  Jeffrey was in our group, too. All I know about him is that he always seems mad at everyone.

  That wasn’t how it turned out, though. Jeffrey was nice with the kids. Really nice. And I didn’t feel scared, because Miss Kelsey and Jessica were with me. Miss Kelsey knew I was nervous, and she helped me get used to everything a little at a time. I noticed she didn’t wear a wedding ring. Mr. Terupt had a lot of options.

  Little Emily was so cute. I didn’t want to touch her hands because she always had them in her mouth and had slobbery spit all over them, but Miss Kelsey gave us this handkerchief to wipe her up with every once in a while, and then it was okay to touch her. I held her hand on the way to do jobs and on the way back. She smiled at me, and then I felt like I was going to cry. I hadn’t expected that.

  One day, after everybody had been to visit the Collaborative Classroom at least once, Mr. Terupt decided we needed to discuss our group experiences.

  “Mr. Terupt,” I said, before we got into a serious discussion, “did you know that Miss Kelsey doesn’t wear a wedding ring?”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, and neither does Ms. Newberry from across the hall.”

  “I did know that, but thanks for those observations, Anna.”

  Then Peter started in, “Oooh, Terupt and Newberry sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

  “Okay, Peter. Ha-ha.” Mr. Terupt held up his hands. “Enough of the matchmaking, though I appreciate your looking out for me, Anna. Now, how about sharing your experiences?”

  I wanted to tell Mr. Terupt that my mom didn’t have a wedding ring, but he’d moved on.

  Jessica was the first to speak up. “Mr. Terupt, why is James in that room? He seems really smart.”

  “Yeah,” Peter said, “he knew how many forks and stuff were on the table without even counting them. You should do some math with him, Luke.”

  “Not exactly a retard, then, huh, Peter?” Mr. Terupt said.

  “No.” Peter’s voice lowered and so did his head.

  “He’s autistic,” Jeffrey said.

  No one said anything, probably because we were so shocked that Jeffrey had spoken at all. And because we didn’t know what he meant.

  “James has some things that he’s really into, and he knows everything about them,” Jeffrey went on. “A lot of autistic people have a special talent. James is great with numbers. But he has his problems, too.”

  “Hey, we should have had him tell us how many blades of grass were in the soccer field,” Peter said.

  “Yeah, and like, then I never woulda got hit in the tushie,” Lexie told him.

  Peter grinned. “But that was the best part.”

  “All right, all right, you two. That’s enough,” Mr. Terupt said.

  “How do you know all that stuff, Jeffrey?” I said, even before I knew I was asking the question. I felt instantly bad. Jeffrey wasn’t looking for extra attention.

  Jeffrey didn’t answer. He was quiet again.

  Danielle

  Lexie was in my group going to the Collaborative kids. Part of me was happy about that. Part of me wasn’t. Things were a little confusing.

  Every time we went to the Collaborative Classroom, and every time we came back, Lexie would talk bad about Jessica—even Anna sometimes.

  “Don’t you think Anna belongs in this room? She’s, like, so stupid,” Lexie said one day.

  Even if I wasn’t supposed to be friends with Anna, I knew she wasn’t stupid. I knew because she was my plan
t partner, and she helped me a lot during that unit. Plus, Anna was the only girl not involved in Lexie’s schemes, which made her brave, too.

  “Like, Jessica should just stay down here. She doesn’t have any normal friends,” Lexie said.

  The weirdest thing of all was that Lexie was really nice to the boys and girls in the Collaborative Classroom. Joey loved her. Okay, Joey loved everyone, but he always smiled and hugged Lexie. And she was really patient with Emily, too. Seeing Lexie like that helped me feel more comfortable in the room, and I had a good time with the kids—especially James.

  Jeffrey told us that James had certain things he was really into, and one of them was farms. His brain was crammed with information about tractors and machines and cows and milking. So I brought in a bunch of pictures from home and James went nuts. He spouted off facts nonstop as he looked at each picture.

  “Udders. These are the cow’s udders. Clean her off and use teat dip.…”

  Next picture.

  “Hay. Find it in bales or rolls. It’s hard work to hay. Throw the bale off the wagon and put it on the elevator. Stack the bales in the hayloft.…”

  Next picture.

  “John Deere tractor. Classic green and yellow. Lots of horsepower …”

  James talked more to himself than anyone else, but that was okay. His mind was racing. When our time was up, I tried to take the pictures and he started screaming. Really screaming, not words, just noise—really loud noise. It scared me. I let go of the pictures and Mrs. Warner came right over. I got out of the way. “He can keep them,” I said.

  “That’s very nice of you, sweetie,” Mrs. Warner said. “James, can you say thank you to your friend?”

  “Aargh!” James yelled, and struggled to free his body from Mrs. Warner.

  “James has a hard time knowing when time is up and switching to another activity,” she said.