by David Lubar
“Where are you from?” Dawn asked as we got into the lunch line.
“I grew up in Denver,” I said. That was certainly true. I’d grown up there, and now I’d grown down.
“I’ve never been to Denver,” Dawn said. “I’d like to go someday. There are lots of places I’d like to see.”
I got my burger—no goo—and paid with the money I had in my skirt pocket. Then I followed Dawn to a table where we joined four other girls.
“This is Jackie,” Dawn said. “From Denver.” She pointed around the table and named her friends, “Kim, Nicole, Rose, and Brittany.”
We all said hi to one another. I waited for one of the girls to recognize me.
“You look familiar,” Kim said.
“A lot of people say that to me,” I told her. And that was as far as it went. At the next table, I noticed Norman and Sebastian. Norman was reading a chemistry book and writing notes on a piece of paper. Sebastian was sticking straws in his nose and humming.
“Ignore him,” Dawn said. “He’s trying to impress us. If you pay any attention, he’ll start getting real silly.”
I looked away from Sebastian, though I was tempted to find out how silly he could become.
Maybe I should have been worried about the change that had just happened to me, but that didn’t seem important right now. I figured I’d change back eventually. For the moment, I wasn’t concerned. It didn’t do any good to worry.
Besides—lunch was fascinating. It turned out that one of the students’ favorite subject was teachers. At first, they talked about the ones they liked. It was wonderful to hear them say nice things about my fellow teachers. I tried not to listen when they said nice things about Miss Clevis—I mean, about me. It felt too much like I was spying. Still, it was good to hear that they liked science. But then, things turned nasty.
“I hate Mr. Brickner,” Nicole said.
“Yeah.” Rose nodded. “He’s so mean.”
That shocked me. How could they think sweet old Mr. Brickner, who was ancient enough to remember most of the history he was teaching, could be mean? He always looked so gentle, walking down the hall in his faded tan suit and brown tie, clutching the handle of the battered old cane he carried everywhere. I thought he was very charming. Instead of joining the conversation, I took a bite of my burger and chewed it slowly.
Goodness. The meat tasted wonderful. I took a gulp of cold milk. That tasted great, too. Kim passed me one of the cookies her mother had baked. What a perfect way to end my meal.
A bell rang. Around me, everyone stood up and started to leave the cafeteria.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Dawn asked. “I can help you find your next class.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks for being so nice.”
She smiled. “Okay, see you later.”
I felt too good to move just yet. Lunch had really been just about perfect. The taste of the cookie lingered in my mouth. I sighed, closed my eyes, and sat back in my seat.
Whack!
I jumped.
“Get moving!”
I turned toward the shout.
Whack!
Mr. Brickner’s cane rose and fell as he smacked the table after each sentence. “Don’t dillydally, young lady. This is not a resort hotel. This is a school. S-c-h-o-o-l. Get moving. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, scrambling away from the table and hurrying into the hall.
Where all my goodness left me.
Five
MS. HYDE
Curses!
The stupid dizziness made me stumble, but just for a step or two. Then my head cleared. Where was I? I looked around. The hall was lined with pictures drawn by children. Crayon pictures of animals. How disgusting. Didn’t children have anything better to do than draw? What a waste of time.
“Can I help you?”
I spun toward the voice. It was Mr. Rubinitski. How nice. He wanted to help me. Well, I didn’t need anybody’s help. I didn’t want anybody’s help. But if I didn’t explain who I was, I knew there could be trouble. And I didn’t want trouble, unless I was the one who made it. Obviously, he didn’t recognize me. I’d changed, somehow. It didn’t matter how or why I’d changed. I could tell from the way I felt that I’d changed for the better. I felt powerful and in control.
I looked past his shoulder, trying to spot something that would show my reflection. Nothing. That could wait. Right now, I had a nosy person to deal with. I looked straight into his eyes and he backed away. Good. “Miss Clevis had to leave suddenly,” I told him. “She was called away.”
“Oh dear. I hope she’s okay,” he said. “I was just speaking with her before lunch.”
“She’ll be fine. But I was brought in to substitute.” I smiled and he took another step back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a class waiting.”
I walked away from him. He didn’t say anything else. I had the feeling he wanted to hide from me. Good. Fear meant power.
I climbed the steps and headed toward the science class. A whole room full of students were chatting and babbling.
“Silence!” I shouted as I walked in through the door.
Every head turned toward me. Good. Fear was in their eyes. I stormed over to the chalkboard and wrote MS. HYDE. “I’m your substitute,” I told them.
In the back of the room, a large boy laughed.
“You!” I shouted, pointing at him. “There’s nothing funny going on. There will be no laughing in this class. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
I stared one by one at the students. Each one looked away. None could meet my gaze. Except Dawn. She smiled at me with kindness. How disgusting. I’d have to find a way to remove that smile. She needed to be punished for her cheerfulness.
A hand shot up.
“What?” I asked. It was Norman. But I couldn’t call on him by name. I was supposed to be a stranger.
“How long will Miss Clevis be absent?” he asked.
“Do I look like a doctor?” I walked over to him and glared down at his pointy little head. “Do I look like I can predict the future? Is it even any of your business?”
He opened his mouth. I suspect he planned to launch an answer filled with those big words he so dearly loved, but his face grew pale as I glared at him, and nothing came out but a thin gasp that sounded like a tire slowly going flat.
“Now,” I said, picking up the book from my desk. “Read chapters eighteen and nineteen. Make sure you finish before the end of the class. You shouldn’t have any trouble. It’s only thirty pages.”
Several of them started to make sounds of protest.
“Silence!” I screamed.
They were silent. Good. I could fill up the whole period this way. It would be better—and more fun—to teach them something wrong or harmful, but for the moment this would do. They would get nothing of value from cramming two chapters into their minds. They’d probably start to hate science. Wonderful.
While they opened their books, I walked to the back of the room. There was a mirror inside the coatroom. I switched on the light and examined my reflection.
I was beautiful. All the softness, all the weak kindness that had marred the face of Miss Clevis was gone. I looked at a face filled with power and control. Marvelous.
Time passed. I could have looked at myself for hours, but there would be plenty of chances for that later. Right now, I had a whole classroom of students under my control, and I was ready to have some fun with the little darlings.
Six
BASHING SEBASTIAN
Where should I start? I wondered as I stormed out of the coatroom. I saw kids straightening up as I walked past. They were all trying so hard to avoid my attention that I could feel their efforts. Where to start?
“You!” I shouted, pointing at Sebastian. “Stop talking.”
He looked up from his book, a wonderfully shocked expression distorting his face. “I wasn’t talking,” he said.
“You’re talking now,” I said. “Ar
en’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re still talking,” I said. “Even though I asked you to stop.”
“But—”
“Stop talking!” I shouted.
His mouth dropped open. I could tell he was struggling to answer me without talking. Finally, he nodded.
I could have kept on tormenting him for a while longer, but it would be bad manners to ignore the rest of the class. There were so many victims who needed my attention. I spun toward the boy on Sebastian’s right. It was wonderful. I could feel the tension grow stronger on the side of the room I was facing. And I could feel the tension grow weaker behind my back. I could ride the stress in the room like an ocean current.
“What are you looking at?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Stop talking and get back to work.”
This was so much fun. I checked the clock. Just five minutes left. Perfect. “Close your books,” I told them.
The books snapped shut. “Take out your notebooks. Write everything you remember from the two chapters you just read.”
A couple of the braver ones groaned, but I quickly silenced them. They got to work, their faces etched with the wonderfully sad expressions of the doomed. It would be a splendidly hopeless exercise. I was sure most of them hadn’t paid much attention to what they were reading. They were all too worried about what I would do next. And they were all too worried about completing an impossible assignment.
What joy. Teaching was such a rewarding profession.
When the bell rang, they filed out, dropping their papers on my desk. They hurried from the room. Run, you cowards. None of them dared look me in the eyes. With one sickening exception. Dawn glanced at me. Her face was filled with an expression of pity. It made me want to throw up.
“What are you staring at?” I snapped. “Get out of here.”
She rushed from the room.
I sat down to grade the papers. That would be fun. I could just have marked them all with an F. But I wanted to give the grades a little more thought than that. Let’s see. Top of the pile—last paper handed in. Bud Mellon. The large boy in the back. He’d never gotten a good grade even once in his life. I decided to give him an A. That would shake him up. He wouldn’t have any idea why he’d done so well. Better yet, that would give him false hope so I could crush him even harder the next time.
Okay. Let’s just mark a couple with an F, then a couple with a D. I decided to throw in a few more A’s, just to get the others jealous. Jealousy is a wonderful way to make kids hate each other. Ah, I reached Norman’s paper. An F would kill him. But I smiled as I realized that a C would be even better. Norman almost always got an A-plus. He might have had a rare B or two. But never anything lower. An F was too big a jump. Yes. The C would be perfect.
“Ms. Hyde.”
I looked over toward the door. Curses. It was Dawn. “Why are you bothering me? Can’t you see I’m grading papers? Would you like to get detention?”
She shook her head. “I just wanted to welcome you to Washington Irving. I’d bet it’s hard being a substitute. I just wanted to let you know I’m glad you’re here.”
She smiled that sickeningly sweet smile of hers, gave a little wave, then raced away like some sort of innocent little forest creature.
Disgusting. I tried to get back to grading, but she’d ruined all the pleasure of that activity, at least for the moment.
I stood up.
Maybe I got up too fast. Another wave of dizziness washed over me, sweeping darkness into my mind.
Seven
TAKE A SEAT
Goodness.
I stood at the desk, puzzled and ashamed. I couldn’t believe I’d been so mean and rotten. How could I have treated those wonderful children so nastily? Wait. Who was I? I rushed back to the coatroom and checked the mirror.
I was Jackie. Thank goodness. I studied my face carefully. There was no sign of meanness in my expression. No trace of evil in my eyes. I guess I could even say I was pretty. It’s okay to say good things about yourself, if they’re true. That’s not really bragging. It’s just being honest.
But this wasn’t the time to think about faces or mirrors or honesty. I had to get out of the room before the next class came in.
I heard a crackle. Then a voice came from the loudspeaker. It was the school secretary, Mrs. Lake. “Attention, students. It’s time for the assembly. Fourth, fifth, and sixth grades are to report to the auditorium now.”
That was a break. I could slip out of the school. And do what? I didn’t know. But I needed time to think about what was happening to me and to figure out what to do about it.
I stepped into the hall, then went downstairs. As I walked toward the back door, I heard a slow, steady tapping sound from around the corner. It was Mr. Brickner. I didn’t want to run into him right now.
I ducked into the auditorium.
“Jackie, over here.”
I looked at the back row, where Dawn was waving to me. “Hi,” I said when I slipped into a seat. “Thanks.”
All around me, I could hear the kids, most of whom had just been in science, talking about the new substitute.
“Unbelievable,” Sebastian said. “Did you see what she did to me. She’s crazy.”
“Inconceivable,” Norman said. “Her actions moved beyond the abnormal into the pathological.”
“Give her a chance,” Dawn said.
They all stared at her.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Sebastian said. “I’d rather give her a bus ticket to some other planet.”
“Sebastian,” Norman said, “you know full well a bus is incapable of making an interplanetary journey. Nevertheless, I share your sentiment.”
“Maybe she had a reason for being mean,” Dawn said. “We don’t know where she came from or what’s happened to her.”
That’s for sure, I thought. I didn’t want to get involved, but I couldn’t help speaking up. “You shouldn’t be so hard on her,” I said.
Dawn smiled and nodded. Nobody else paid any attention to me. That was okay. I was a stranger. They didn’t have any reason to listen to me. I understood.
Sebastian shook his head and told Dawn, “You’re such a goody-goody, it makes me sick.” He stuck his finger in his mouth and made gagging sounds like he was going to throw up.
The assembly started. A man came up on the stage and talked about how we needed to make the right choices in life. And he did magic tricks. After each trick, he’d explain how it had something to do with an important part of being a good citizen.
“This is pathetic,” Sebastian said.
“I like magic,” Norman told him. “From a purely scientific standpoint, of course. It’s quite an enjoyable sociological phenomenon that merits a great degree of study.”
“You’re pathetic, too,” Sebastian said.
Dawn shushed them.
Sebastian was right, in a way. The magician wasn’t very good with his tricks. But he was trying hard to teach us a lesson, and it would have been wrong to criticize him. So I sat and enjoyed the show. There wasn’t much else I could do at the moment. I’d never really thought about it before, but kids in school were a captive audience. Whatever assembly the school wanted to have, the students didn’t get a choice. This wasn’t a bad thing, but it sure made the school’s decision an important one.
I realized it made every classroom lesson pretty important, too. If it was a bad or boring lesson, the students were still stuck there. As I watched the magician, I promised that I’d never teach a boring lesson. Then again, if I stayed the way I was, I wouldn’t be teaching any kind of lesson at all.
When the assembly ended, I slipped out of the building and went to the parking lot. My car keys were in my pocket. That was good. But as I reached for the car door, I realized I had a problem. I looked like a girl. If I tried to drive, there was a pretty good chance a policeman would stop me. Then what could I do? I don’t think any policeman would believe the truth.
Officer, pay no attention to my appearance. I’m really a science teacher who got turned into a girl. I opened my wallet and looked at my driver’s license.
It was an awful photo. But all drivers’ license photos are awful. Still, awful or good, it didn’t look like me. I studied the picture, then looked at myself in the car mirror. Goodness. I could be my own little sister.
No. I couldn’t drive home. I’d have to walk. At least it wasn’t all that far—just a mile and a half past the other side of town. That was fine. I liked walking. Behind me, I could hear the dismissal bell. School was getting out. I’d just be another kid in the crowd heading home.
At least, that’s what I thought I’d be.
Eight
A GOOD INFLUENCE
I headed toward the center of town. It was a wonderful day—the kind of perfect spring afternoon when the air is just warm enough and the breeze is just gentle enough and the sky is just cloudy enough to make the world seem bright and cheerful. Birds were chirping everywhere, making wonderful music. I stopped walking and closed my eyes, turning my face toward the sunshine.
As I stood there, I was startled by a cry of pain. “Hey, leave me alone.”
I opened my eyes and turned toward the shout. A group of sixth-graders was teasing a little kid. He looked like a second- or third-grader. They’d trapped him inside a circle and were blocking his attempts to break free. I could tell he was about to start crying. I couldn’t blame him. It was no fun being picked on or bullied. I ran over toward them.
“Leave him alone,” I said. As the words left my mouth, I realized I didn’t sound like an adult. My voice was the voice of an eleven-year-old girl. I didn’t look like an adult, either. There was no reason the boys would pay any attention to me. I didn’t have any authority. But what they were doing was mean and wrong, and I had to stop them. Nobody had the right to push anyone else around like that.
The boys looked at me. I knew them from school. They weren’t bad kids. They just got in trouble once in a while, probably mostly because they wanted attention. The leader, Joey Sternbacker, stared at me. “What did you say?”
