Goodbye Mr. Terupt Read online

  “Mr. Jacobs, why am I not surprised to see you’ve landed in my office on only the second day of school?” Mr. Lee began.

  “Is that a rhetorical question, sir?” I asked, already pushing his buttons.

  “Yes, it’s rhetorical!” he hollered. “I’m not surprised because you’re the biggest jokester this side of the Mississippi.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I responded, pushing more.

  “That wasn’t a compliment,” he growled.

  Mr. Lee was turning redder by the second. I’d never seen that vein in his forehead before, the one that was bulging. He was ready to explode. What had him so angry?

  “Mr. Jacobs, do you know what showed up in every single teacher’s mailbox this morning?”

  “No,” I answered truthfully. I had no idea.

  “Really?”

  I shrugged and shook my head.

  “This,” he said, holding up a piece of paper.

  I had to do a double take. Was that what I thought it was? It was! Someone had photocopied their naked butt!

  “That showed up in every teacher’s mailbox?!” I exclaimed.

  “Yes,” Mr. Lee replied.

  I burst into laughter. “Awesome!”

  “I’m glad you find this so funny, Mr. Jacobs, because it’s going to be me getting the last laugh when I take you down for this stunt.”

  “Me? I didn’t do that!”

  “Denying it? Well, for your information, you were spotted leaving the second-floor hallway after school yesterday.”

  “I forgot my hat in my locker and went back for it. That’s why I was up there.”

  “A likely alibi.”

  “Mr. Lee, that isn’t my butt,” I argued.

  “Prove it.”

  He asked for it. I wasn’t getting blamed for something I didn’t do. I jumped from my chair and dropped my shorts, giving Mr. Lee a full moon right there in his office.

  “Mr. Jacobs, put that away!” he shouted.

  “Look!” I ordered, pointing at my right cheek. “See that scar? It’s been there since I was little.”

  Knock knock.

  “Mr. Lee, here is the file you reque—”

  “Do not come in here!” Principal Lee ordered. He tried, but it was too late.

  Mrs. Francine waltzed in. “Ahh!” she screamed. She dropped the file and ran off, still screaming.

  Mr. Lee sighed. “Mr. Jacobs, pull your shorts up.”

  “Not until you agree there’s no way that photocopy is mine.”

  “I see. I see. Now pull your pants up. We’re lucky Mrs. Francine didn’t have a heart attack, for God’s sake.”

  I could’ve been wrong, but I swore I heard a chuckle in his voice when he added that last part. “Mr. Lee, I didn’t do it,” I said after I was dressed again. “Part of me wishes I could take credit because I think it’s super funny. But it wasn’t me.”

  “Mr. Jacobs, we’re done here. You can leave now.”

  “But you haven’t even apologized for blaming me for something I didn’t do.”

  “Get out!” he roared.

  I bolted. I knew when enough was enough.

  “Have a nice day, Mrs. Francine,” I sang as I strolled past her desk.

  She shrank behind her computer screen and I laughed. I felt pretty cocky strutting my way out the door, but once I was in the hall something came to me I hadn’t thought about earlier. I hoped that naked butt sat on the glass after I had plastered my mouth on it, and not before.

  Just when I thought I had my accelerated schedule in order, the school administration decided to insert a one-hour block every other Friday for a period called “advising.” The extra minutes were freed up by reducing the length of our classes on these days. Thankfully, this new ordeal was only a biweekly thing, and the entire junior high would be engaged in it, so it wasn’t like I’d be missing anything. Still, I wasn’t thrilled, because I wasn’t convinced it’d be worth it—that is, until I learned who I had for my adviser.

  IF Mr. Terupt says we’ll figure something out, THEN something will happen so the gang can get together.

  The complete Babysitters Gang made up our advising group. It didn’t get any better than that. Did Mr. Terupt have to pull strings to make that happen? I didn’t know and I wasn’t asking. But suddenly, advising became the part of school I was most excited about.

  The goal and description of this new activity was still unclear, but after doing some research on the topic, I learned that advising at other schools and universities focused on the social and emotional growth of students, and it provided guidance and counseling on academic decisions. There was no one I’d rather have had mentoring me on those matters than Mr. Terupt. And I know I speak for the rest of the gang when I say that. Advising was a serious time, but serious was not how Mr. Terupt started our first session together.

  “Okay, gang. The number one item Principal Lee has asked us to address with our advising groups today is the now-infamous butt prank.”

  “The what?” I stammered.

  “Peter’s latest prank,” Lexie answered.

  “That wasn’t me!” Peter protested.

  “Nobody else would even think to do that,” Lexie argued.

  “Oh, yeah? I think it was you,” Peter countered.

  “Me!” Lexie screeched. “There’s like, no way I would put my tush on a copy machine. I can’t even get myself to sit on a public toilet seat. That’s like, totes gross.”

  “What? Do you squat?” Peter asked.

  “Yes, I squat. You got a problem with that?” She raised her fist.

  “What are you guys even talking about?” I interrupted, looking for clarification.

  “Honestly, do you live under a rock?” Lexie said. “The whole school has been talking about the butt prank for two days.”

  I shrugged.

  “Luke, did you happen to notice the photocopy machine in the upstairs hallway on our first day of school?” Jessica asked.

  “Sure,” I said. “A scientist is always making observations.”

  “Well, somebody with a creative mind also saw it and came up with the brilliant idea of photocopying his naked butt,” she explained.

  “Over a hundred copies,” Jeffrey added, “that were then stuck in every teacher’s mailbox.”

  My eyes got wide.

  “Is that true?” Danielle asked.

  “Yup,” Peter confirmed. “But how do you know it was his butt and not her butt? You’re jumping to conclusions.”

  “Peter’s right,” I said. “The only way we can be certain is to find a hair or some other piece of evidence from the machine and run a DNA analysis.”

  “A butt hair!” Peter cried. “That’s awesome. Hey, Lexie, want to see if you can find one for us?”

  “Shut up!” she shrieked. “You’re disgusting!”

  Peter laughed. “Face it. We’ll never know who did it. What’s Lee supposed to do, have a butt lineup to identify the criminal?”

  “Ugh,” the girls groaned.

  It was an idea.

  “I’m going to miss this,” Mr. Terupt mused.

  Instantly, the banter stopped. Did we hear him right?

  “What do you mean? Where are you going?” Peter asked.

  “Not me. You,” he said. “You’re all moving on to high school after this year.”

  True, but was that what he meant or was he covering for a slip-up? Was he sick? The sudden dread in my stomach wasn’t based on science. It was intuition. And it was strong.

  “Well, now that we’ve thoroughly discussed the butt prank, I think we can move on to the next item on my agenda. It’s time for a project,” Mr. Terupt announced.

  Those were the magic words. My worries vanished just as fast as they’d arrived.

  “
What kind of project?” I asked.

  “I was thinking we should put together a time capsule to commemorate our years together.”

  “Mr. Terupt, please stop talking like this is the end. It’s scaring me,” Anna said.

  “Me too,” Danielle agreed.

  “It’s only the end of junior high school, but since I won’t be following you to ninth grade, I thought it seemed like a good idea. But we don’t need to do it if you don’t want to.”

  “No, let’s do it,” Jessica urged. “Each of us should come up with something to contribute. It’ll be fun to open it at the end of the year.”

  “What do we contribute?” I asked.

  “Anything,” she said. “Anything that will help us reminisce about the good times we’ve had.”

  “Oh, boy,” Peter said, rubbing his hands together. “So many ideas.” He laughed, and Lexie groaned.

  “Keep it clean,” Mr. Terupt warned.

  But “oh, boy” was right. I knew by the end of that first session that advising was going to be great—but I never dreamed it would be the year of projects that it turned out to be.

  Poetry is…

  Rhyming.

  Poetry is rap.

  Poetry is Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein—Hope’s favorites.

  Poetry is Kwame Alexander and Elizabeth Acevedo—my favorites.

  Poetry is Peter

  and Lexie

  back

  and forth

  words at rapid fire

  comeback

  after comeback

  they dance.

  Poetry is time capsules

  commemorating moments,

  capturing moments,

  and celebrating moments

  after times together come to an end.

  Poetry is a language of love

  arriving in a small, rose-colored envelope,

  words from my father

  to my mother

  about moving

  here

  to be near us.

  Words

  sending my thoughts swirling

  and breaths catching,

  because sometimes

  poetry is broken promises,

  broken hearts.

  Maybe we didn’t have him as our teacher, but Terupt still found Peter and me in between classes and pulled us aside in the hall.

  “Hey, guys. I just got an email from Mr. Jennings, the varsity wrestling coach. They’re starting open mats soon and I think you should go.”

  “What’re open mats?” Peter asked.

  “The high school coaches aren’t allowed to practice with their teams in the off-season, but they still have their guys getting together for workouts.”

  “So it’s like a practice without coaches?” Peter asked.

  Terupt shrugged. “Sort of. You kinda go and do your own thing. But I’ll be there. No rules prohibiting me from attending.”

  I was all in. “Let’s do it,” I said. “Just tell me when.”

  * * *

  —

  “When” came two weeks later. Dad gave Peter and me a ride to the high school that night and hung out to watch. Open mats only lasted an hour, but man, did a lot happen in that short time.

  We scooted into the locker room to change and the first guy I saw was Zack. I barely recognized him. Talk about a growth spurt.

  “Zack Attack,” Coach Terupt said, greeting him. “You got big, huh?”

  “Yeah, I’ve grown four inches and jumped up five weight classes since last season. I’ve been trying to hit the weights because I need to get stronger. I’m not wrestling little twerps like this anymore,” he said, gesturing at Peter and me.

  “Watch it,” Peter warned. “I’ll still take you.”

  Zack smirked. “See you guys out there.”

  Peter and I changed our shoes and hurried out to the mats and started jogging to warm up. Coach Terupt loosened up with us and then paired off with Zack. Peter and I didn’t really know what we were supposed to do so we just copied what they did. After a while, a different high schooler who I didn’t recognize came over and asked if we wanted to scrimmage.

  “Go ahead,” Peter said.

  So I did. And I got my butt kicked. I’d never been beaten like that. The kid wiped the mat with me, but I kept fighting. I didn’t notice Terupt watching us until we scrambled off the edge of the mat and had to stop.

  “Let me show you guys something,” Terupt said. “What’s your name?” he asked my opponent.

  “Freddy.”

  Terupt showed us this nifty turn from the top position that involved using your legs. Freddy was good with his legs. He’d been crushing me with them all night, but he didn’t pay much attention to Coach Terupt.

  “Cool,” Freddy said after Terupt was done demonstrating. “I’ve got to use the bathroom.”

  Terupt shook his head as he watched Freddy walk away. Then he turned to Peter and me. “If you want to be good, you have to be coachable.”

  Peter and I spent the next ten minutes going over Coach Terupt’s move. The more I tried it, the more comfortable I got doing it. It was all about turning the guy’s hip so that you could attack his upper body while he’s under you, exposing his shoulders to the mat and getting points.

  “How’d you like working with Freddy?” Zack asked me after practice.

  “He killed me,” I confessed.

  “Yeah, he’s tough,” Zack admitted. “But he cuts too much weight.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Freddy’s our one twenty, but I bet he weighs around one thirty-five right now. So don’t sweat it if he beat you up. He’s got some pounds on you.” He grabbed his bag. “See you next time.”

  “Later.”

  Peter was ready to go but I’d left my stuff in the locker room, so I ran to get it. I was surprised when I found Freddy still hanging out in there.

  “Hey, what’s up,” I said.

  “You’re pretty tough for an eighth grader,” Freddy said, giving me some unexpected props.

  “Thanks.”

  “You could be our varsity one thirteen if you wanted,” he said.

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah. You’re way tougher than the kid we’ve got there now. What do you weigh?”

  “One twenty-one.”

  “You could definitely make it,” Freddy said. “I cut way more than that to get down to one twenty last season, and I’m gonna do it again. You should go for it. We could be teammates.”

  “That would be awesome.”

  “I’ve gotta split,” he said, getting to his feet. “Peace out.”

  “See you.”

  Freddy left and I sat there thinking about everything that had just happened. One twenty was my weight class, but there was no way I was beating Freddy. He’d just kicked the crap out of me for fifteen minutes. I was a lean 121, with barely any body fat, but if Freddy could lose the weight, what was stopping me? If I wanted it bad enough, I could make the sacrifice. And I wanted it. Varsity, I thought. That was my new mission.

  “Dude, you coming?” Peter shouted after coming into the locker room to find me. “We’ve been waiting for ten minutes. You’re worse than a woman.”

  “You haven’t been waiting that long, and yeah, I’m coming.”

  “What’re you doing in here?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  I’d miss being teammates with Peter. It was too bad we couldn’t make the move together, but he was a 113-pounder. Sometimes you had to beat your best friend and go it alone.

  After all the hoping and wishing I’d done to see Mom and Charlie get engaged, now I just wanted the whole ordeal over so maybe Mom would have some time for us again.
The only reason I was the tiniest bit excited about the wedding was because it was going to be an incredible opportunity for me to take pictures and show off my photography skills. I wish I could say my feelings changed as their big day drew near, but I’d be lying. It only got worse. The wedding just gave Mom and Charlie more reason to always be together—and less time for her to be with me.

  It was going to be a small wedding, but small weddings still required planning. There were flowers to pick out and invitations and music and food and…and…and. Plus, with the ceremony being held outside on the ridge, there were all sorts of extra details and precautions to consider, like how to get people out there and where they’d sit—and Mom’s worst nightmare, what to do if it rained. Even with all that planning, we still didn’t think of everything. Needless to say, Mom was preoccupied. But Jeffrey had time for me.

  “Danielle, do you think it would it be okay if I brought Asher over to your farm so he could see the cows?” Jeffrey asked when we were at lunch.

  “Sure,” she replied. “I have an appointment with my endocrinologist on Saturday, so I won’t be there, but Anna can show you around.”

  “Thanks,” Jeffrey said, squeezing my hand under the table.

  A quiet morning on the farm with Jeffrey sounded nice—and it was—but more than anything, it was busy. They call it the terrible twos for a reason. Asher wasn’t bad, but he was into everything, constantly on the go. Before we even got to the cows he spotted Tabitha, one of the barn cats, and of course he had to see her. There were five cats in all, and Tabitha was the friendliest of the bunch. She came right up to Asher, rubbing her gold-and-tan body against his legs. Asher squealed when he touched her.

  “Meow! Meow!” he cried.

  I chuckled. “That’s Tabitha,” I told him.

  Next he spotted Charlotte, the gray cat, who was more standoffish. Chasing her brought us to Mo, the calico kitty. Mo gave Asher a few seconds of contact and then he darted away, but that was okay because by then Asher had noticed the chickens and he took off after them. The little guy had us bouncing all over the place. After he had his fill with the chicks, I took his hand and guided him to the calf pen.