Revenge of the Teacher's Pets

by Jennifer Ziegler

“Sure.”

  As we headed out of the yard, I noticed a gray, square-shaped bag hanging across her body. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing.

  “It’s my camera. I take it pretty much everywhere with me.”

  “Why?”

  “To keep a record of the Now.”

  “The Now?”

  Wanda laughed nervously. “Yeah. It’s kind of hard to explain. You’ll think I’m weird.”

  “I promise I won’t.”

  She unzipped her bag, pulled out a camera, and hooked the strap around her neck. “It’s like … most people are in a different time,” she said, taking off the lens cap. “They’re either worrying about the future or mulling over something that happened in the past. But when I take a photo” — she lifted the camera and clicked a picture of me — “I’m right here, right now. It helps me appreciate things better.” She paused while I considered. “See? Told you it would sound silly.”

  “But it doesn’t.” I shook my head. “It sounds wise. Come on. Let me show you some more Now.”

  Wanda followed me down Nugent Avenue, past Mr. Neighbor who was watering his crepe myrtles and shouted, “Make way for ducklings!” at us, and on toward the center of town. Occasionally she’d stop, lift her camera, and take a picture of a lizard on a fence post or a dried-up creek bed, but mainly she just walked beside me, looking intently at everything around us. I enjoyed the silence. After a while, though, I got curious and started up more conversation.

  “So where did you move from?” I asked.

  “San Antonio.”

  “Were you sad to leave?”

  She shrugged. “A little. But my mom really needed a job and it was stressful not having enough money. She was so happy when she got the job at the bank here. She’s happier, so I’m happier. Besides, my dad is still in San Antonio, so I get to visit there a lot.”

  “Your parents are divorced?”

  She nodded. “Since I was three.”

  “Mine are divorced, too. Since I was nine. Do you have brothers or sisters?”

  “Nope, it’s just me and my mom. When I visit my dad, it’s just me and my dad.”

  “Wow, your houses must be nice and quiet.”

  Wanda smiled. “I guess they are. I usually think it’s boring, though.”

  I shook my head in wonder. I couldn’t imagine a house with just two people living in it. When you had to make a decision, there would just be one person you had to agree with. When you had to share, there would just be one person to share with. If something ended up missing, and you know you didn’t take it, you’d automatically know who did.

  “I have three sisters,” I said as Wanda stopped to take a picture of an old faded sign for a winery. “One is a lot older, Lily — she’s twenty-three. Another is older than me by seven minutes. That’s Dawn. Delaney is the youngest. She was born ten minutes after I was.”

  “One of your sisters is in my math class,” she said. “I thought she was you at first.”

  “Does she get up to sharpen her pencil a lot?”

  “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  “That’s how you can tell it’s Delaney.”

  “I wondered why you were so shy in history class but talked all the time in math.” Wanda stopped walking and looked at me. “I’m sorry. Was that a rude thing to say? I imagine people get you guys mixed up a lot. I bet that’s annoying.”

  I shrugged. “Only sometimes. People who really know us can tell us apart. I’m sure you’ll be able to soon.”

  Her grin came back.

  We were now heading into the main part of town. The workday was ending, so there was more traffic than usual and we had to be extra careful crossing the streets.

  “That’s the library,” I said, pointing. “And see this oak tree? Delaney got stuck up on that limb when she was six. She pitched a real racket, too. Screamed so loud, she woke up Reverend Hoffmeyer, who was napping in his office.” I nodded toward our church down the road. “He was the one who ran over and helped talk her down. I remember there was a big crowd of people watching, and Dawn and I were standing over there, bawling. A man even took a picture and put it in the paper. We have a clipping of it back home. We wanted Mom to frame it and hang it on the wall, but she said no. She said it wasn’t our finest moment.”

  Wanda walked all around the tree, her head tilted to the side. Eventually she stopped, raised her camera, and took a couple of pictures.

  “What’s that over there?” She pointed down the street to a pretty clapboard building with a long porch.

  “Oh, that’s Ever’s — only we always call it Forever’s on account of how old it is and how it never changes. It has the best pies in town — all kinds, like pecan, blueberry, lemon chiffon …”

  “Which one’s your favorite?”

  “Well …” I looked down and lifted one shoulder. “I usually get the one that hasn’t been ordered as much. Because …” I broke off, suddenly feeling foolish.

  “Because you feel sorry for it?” Wanda asked. I glanced up, my eyes probably as big as pie pans. As I studied her face, I realized she wasn’t making fun of me. “Yeah,” I said. “How did you know?”

  She shrugged. “I guess because I do things like that, too.”

  Wanda and I were sharing secrets. I’d never revealed things like that to someone outside of my family. I wasn’t sure if it should make me feel guilty or not — but it didn’t. It actually felt great. Amazing, even.

  “You know,” Wanda began as she raised her camera and focused on Ever’s, “when we were adopting our cat at the shelter, everyone wanted the cute kittens. But I picked Mariposa, a grown-up cat that no one was looking at. On her card it said that she’d belonged to this man who was very old and died. I felt bad for her. We took her home, and you know what? She’s been the best. We didn’t have to litter box train her or teach her not to scratch. And when she comes to sit on my lap, she first touches her nose to mine. I think it’s her way of saying thank you for getting her out of that sad place.”

  “That’s so sweet.”

  I couldn’t believe someone felt the same way I did. It was like finding another sister — one who wasn’t like me on the outside, but was an exact duplicate on the inside.

  We turned a corner and went down another street, one close to the town square. The sun was hiding behind trees and buildings, making colors darker and shadows longer. There was even a nice breeze. It seemed like our little town was trying to present itself at its best for Wanda’s sake, and I said a silent thank you to it.

  “Do you want to try?” Wanda said, holding the camera out to me.

  I lifted one of my shoulders in a shy shrug. I did want to, but I was afraid. “What if I mess it up?”

  “What’s to mess up? You just look through there and press this button. Just like on your cell phone.”

  “I don’t have a cell phone.”

  “But you do know how to press buttons, right?”

  “Yes. But … what do I take pictures of?”

  “Anything.” She opened her arms and gestured all about. “It’s up to you. That’s what’s cool about photography. You can put a bunch of photographers in the same place, but they’ll focus on different things. I guess because we’re all different and see the world in different ways.”

  At first I was afraid I might accidentally drop the camera or do something wrong. But after a while I really enjoyed it. It made me notice things I hadn’t seen before — like the birds nesting in the blocky U-shape of the Union Motors sign, and a pretty stained-glass window in an old building. I even noticed a cloud shaped like a lobster.

  “Ooh, donuts,” Wanda said. We were coming up on another old building, with the words DAISY’S DONUTS over the door.

  “Oh yeah. Hey! I think I know someone here,” I said, spotting a familiar face behind the counter. “Let’s go inside.”

  “Hi, Bree!” I greeted. Her blue eyes were lined in dark black, and her lips were painted a burgundy color.

  “Hi yoursel
f. Who’s this?”

  “This is Wanda. She’s new.”

  “Nice to meet you, Wanda. I like your hair.”

  “Thanks. I like yours, too.”

  Bree usually dyes her hair crazy colors. Most of it was pulled back in a bun and she had on a light brown visor, but the bangs that hung down her forehead were bright purple.

  “So are you back at school?” Bree asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Did Lily and Alex finally tie the knot this summer?”

  “No, there was too much going on. But they’re probably going to get married this fall.” We sat at a table near the counter and I explained to Wanda about my older sister and her fiancé, and how Bree and I met when she was a bridesmaid at Lily’s Almost Wedding to a guy named Burton. Meanwhile Bree gave us a box of different-flavored donut holes that she refused to let us pay for, saying they were one day old and supposed to be thrown away — even if they were still really good.

  “So where are the other triplets?” Bree asked me.

  I shrugged. “Doing other stuff. We’re supposed to meet up later and … Wait. What time is it?”

  “Seven fifteen.”

  I stood up from the table, gasping loudly. “Oh no. I’m late!”

  Where is she?” Dawn asked for the forty-seventh time.

  I shrugged for the forty-seventh time.

  “This is a disgrace. A total fiasco! Blowing off your comrades is rude and unprofessional. If Darby were a member of my cabinet, she’d be booted for this.”

  “I thought for sure she’d already be here, waiting for us,” I said. “Maybe she’s just running a little late? You know we can rely on her.” It occurred to me that in Darby’s absence, I was taking on her role of keeping things positive.

  “Well, no matter what, we go ahead with the plan,” Dawn said. “We’re here for a reason. These people need us.”

  The cafeteria was about half full. Chessboards were set out, two on each long table. At the front of the room was a big whiteboard on a stand with a list of last names paired up with each other. I recognized a few of the kids, and Mr. Langerham, my math teacher from last year, was standing out in the hallway talking with another grown-up. There was a buzzy sense of anticipation in the air, just like at the pep rally and before the cross-country races. It reminded me of the countdown on New Year’s Eve, only I wasn’t sleepy — in fact, I felt just the opposite.

  “Hey, guys!” Lucas walked toward us, all smiles. He looked happy to see us.

  I thought Dawn would be happy to see him, too, but as he came near, she just looked down at her shoes.

  “I didn’t know you were coming,” he said. “Did you want to play chess?”

  “Even better — we’re here to cheer on all the players!” I said, hopping on my toes.

  “It’s not fair that football and basketball are the only sports that get rallies and cheers and other spirit boosts,” Dawn explained. “You all are also competitors, so you deserve people making a big fuss, too.”

  “So we’re here to make a big fuss!” I raised my arms and shook the silver pom-poms.

  “Not yet, Delaney,” Dawn said, pulling down my left arm.

  “Um … Okay,” Lucas said.

  “Aren’t you glad?” Dawn asked, lifting her head to look at him. He didn’t seem all that excited, but then, I’ve never seen Lucas super excited. It’s like he’s always on a low setting.

  “Yeah. Thanks, I guess,” he said. “Excuse me. We’re about to start and I need to find my opponent.”

  People were taking their seats in front of the chessboards, their faces getting all serious, just like Lucas’s. He was now sitting across from Fiona McCorkle, who’s super smart and always wears her hair in a long, tight braid. I watched as they shook each other’s hands.

  “Where should we stand to do the cheering?” I asked Dawn.

  She glanced around the room. “You know, there really isn’t a spot where everyone can see and hear us,” she said. “So why don’t we start cheering for Lucas and Fiona and then move from table to table?”

  “That’s a great idea!” I said, raising my pom-poms in the air.

  “No need to cheer for me, Delaney,” Dawn said. “Come on. They’re starting.”

  We stood in the aisle between the end of their table and the big window. There were already a couple of pieces in the middle of the game board, which made me feel like we were late. If only they had a starting pistol, like at cross-country.

  Dawn nodded at me — her signal for me to start us off.

  “Go, Lucas. Go! Go, Lucas. Go!” I chanted, Dawn joining in after a while.

  Lucas looked over at us. “But I don’t want to go yet. I want to take my time and figure out the next step carefully.”

  I paused for a moment, thinking up a new cheer. “Take your time! Take your time!”

  Eventually Lucas slid a pawn to one of the middle squares. Fiona seemed ready because she quickly moved a white piece shaped like a horse head.

  “Go, horsey, go!”

  “That’s a knight,” Fiona said. “Get it right.”

  “Hey, that rhymes! That’s a knight! Get it right!” I chanted, swishing around the pom-poms. “Thanks, Fiona.”

  “We should do a more general chant,” Dawn whispered in my ear. “The game goes too fast or slow for us to concentrate on individual moves.”

  “Right,” I whispered back. Luckily I had come up with a good cheer while I was practicing in the living room. I stood at attention, just as we had learned to do in Cheer Squad, and started it off. “Ready? Okay! C! H! E-S-S! Chess players are the best!”

  “That doesn’t quite rhyme, you know,” Dawn said.

  I thought for a moment. “C! H! E-S-S! Chess doesn’t make a mess!”

  “Shhhh!” Fiona spun around in her seat so fast, her braid whirled around and whacked her on the collarbone. “Can you please be quiet?” The look on her face made me gulp.

  “Excuse me.”

  I looked up and saw Mr. Langerham standing on the other side of me. “Hi there, Mr. Langerham.” I waved a pom-pom at him.

  “Hello, Delaney. Can you please explain what’s going on here?”

  Dawn stepped forward. “Yes, sir. I can. We are here on behalf of the JCMS Cheer Squad to boost morale.”

  I raised my pom-poms. “We’re here to fire up the stands!”

  “What stands?” Mr. Langerham asked.

  “Right,” I said. “I keep forgetting to check for those.”

  “We just want to spread spirit,” Dawn explained. “You know, get everyone clapping and chanting and having a good time.”

  As she talked, Mr. Langerham started shaking his head over and over. “No, no,” he said, “that’s not going to work.”

  Mr. Langerham wasn’t exactly mad, but he wasn’t happy, either. He pointed out that he needed to maintain a low noise level. Together, the three of us decided that instead of chanting and yelling, Dawn and I would just whisper-cheer and shake our pom-poms anytime a chess team member made a move — a good one or a bad one, we could never tell the difference. It was much quieter, but also way more boring. But even though the pom-poms just made a swish noise, Lucas still said, “Can you please not do that? It’s distracting.”

  “But how are we supposed to encourage you and boost your spirit if you won’t let us, Lucas?” Dawn asked.

  Lucas let out a long, loud sigh. “Tell you what. As soon as one of us wins, you can do all the cheering you want — after the game. Okay?”

  “Deal.”

  So we stood and just watched. I wish I could say that I learned a lot and that it was interesting following the chess game. But it wasn’t. In fact, after a while, I got tired of standing still. I had to resort to Wiggling Toes and Drumming Fingers (on my jeans instead of a desktop), plus a new coping technique I came up with called Bending Hips.

  Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, Dawn elbowed me and waved a pom-pom at the board. Lucas was capturing Fiona’s king. He had won!r />
  “Hooray!” I cheered, jumping up and down. Only, on the up part of my jump, I accidentally hit a corner of the chessboard that was sticking out beyond the table a little bit. The next thing I knew, the board went flying. Chess pieces were flung up in the air and then started falling all around like rain. Oops.

  Nobody clapped and cheered and had fun; instead they all stared at me with big frowns. I even heard a couple of cries of “Ow!” so I guess a few pieces landed on people’s heads.

  “Huh. Well, what do you know?” I said, trying to smile. “Chess really can make a mess.”

  It’s not that we don’t appreciate your commitment to cheer on the chess players and other students who normally don’t get a lot of fanfare, it’s just that … well …” Mr. Plunkett took off his glasses and squinted at me. “Your efforts don’t seem to be helping.”

  Last period, Delaney and I both got official slips saying to go see Mr. Plunkett during our lunch break. I guess we should have anticipated what it would be about, but my first thought had been that we had gotten into Color Guard. Instead, here we were again, facing Mr. Plunkett, Coach Manbeck, and Mr. Langerham. It was the worst kind of déjà vu.

  “Rather than boosting morale,” Mr. Plunkett went on, “this experiment of yours seems to be creating bedlam.”

  “Delaney here just got carried away, is all,” I said.

  “I did. I’m sorry,” Delaney said. “I didn’t mean to flip over the board. I was just filled with the joy of triumph.”

  “The problem is that these people need to concentrate,” Mr. Langerham said. “They are competing, and that takes focus.”

  “We know you had only the best intentions,” Coach Manbeck said with a big, supportive smile. “Sports like football and basketball are inherently noisy, and cheering works in that environment. But when you bring loud cheers into other games, you end up being more of a distraction than a supporter.”

  I scowled. “So basically you’re saying we shouldn’t cheer at other competitions unless it’s football or basketball,” I said. “The way it’s always been.”

  “Well …” Mr. Plunkett glanced around at the other adults. “Yes, I suppose that’s what we’re saying.”