I tapped my finger against my chin, considering our options. I soon realized there weren’t any. Still I sat there, feeling Delaney’s eyes on me as she waited for me to speak on our behalf. I hoped a brilliant idea would pop into my head. But nothing did. Finally I said, “I believe we can abide by that.”
“Good,” Mr. Plunkett said. “I’m glad you understand.” He looked up at Mr. Langerham and Coach Manbeck, standing on either side of him. “Is there anything else you all would like to add?”
They shook their heads.
“Thank you for coming. I’m glad we were able to resolve this,” Mr. Plunkett said.
As everyone started heading out the door, Mr. Plunkett called to Delaney and me. “I want to remind you that my door is always open.”
“Oh, okay,” Delaney said. “We won’t close it on the way out.”
“No, I mean that you are always welcome to stop by and talk to me,” Mr. Plunkett said. He put his glasses back on and smiled at us.
“Okay. Good-bye, Mr. Plunkett,” Delaney said as she headed out.
“You know”—I paused in the doorway and glanced back at our counselor—“if we were in Color Guard, we probably would have been too busy to go to the chess match. Just saying.”
He just smiled that barely-there smile at me and then turned toward his computer.
Darby was standing in the hallway waiting for us, her eyes wide and worried. “Are you guys in trouble?”
I let her stew for a while and walked a few yards away from Mr. Plunkett’s open door toward the noise and bustle of the cafeteria. I hate to admit it, but I was still sore at Darby, and the fear in her eyes made me feel good. I waited several long seconds and then shook my head. “No, of course we aren’t in trouble. We didn’t do anything wrong. Delaney just got klutzy.”
“But we agreed not to cheer anymore for competitions beyond football and basketball,” Delaney added.
“Really?” Darby looked at me. “I’m sorry, Dawn. This was your big plan, and it must have been hard for you to give it up.”
“Yeah, well, if you had been there, things would have gone differently,” I said. “It would have been a stronger showing of support, for one thing. Plus, maybe you could have anticipated Delaney’s mishap before it happened.”
Darby hung her head. “I’m real sorry I let you guys down.”
“It’s okay, isn’t it, Dawn?” Delaney said. “Darby’s apologized, like, sixty-two times already.”
“I’m real sorry I missed it,” Darby said.
“Sixty-three!” Delaney said.
Darby walked over to me and looked me right in the eye. “We’re still all for one and one for all. I promise.”
Of all us triplets, Darby’s probably the gentlest and the sweetest, so it’s tough to stay cross with her. But I wasn’t just angry. There were other things I was feeling — things I didn’t tell my sisters. For example, I didn’t tell them that I was scared. When the three of us aren’t all united on something, it feels wrong and I don’t know what to do. I couldn’t fire Darby. But even if I could, who would I put in her place? It wasn’t like I could go out and find another sister.
Nope. I had to be magnanimous and mature and forgive her — even if I didn’t want to and she didn’t deserve it.
“It’s okay,” I said, patting her shoulder. “I know you didn’t mean to betray us.”
Darby blew out her breath. “Thanks,” she said, smiling.
“Alrighty,” I said, “let’s put this behind us and take a solemn pledge.” I held my hand out flat in the air, waiting for them to add their left ones; then I would put on my right one, followed by their right ones, thereby making a tower of hands. It’s our most weighty and dignified oath.
Only neither of them put their hand on top of mine. They just stood there, Darby with her bowed head and Delaney glancing all around while hopping on her toes.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I just … I mean … do we have to do it here?” Darby asked.
“Yeah. There are so many people around,” Delaney said. “And I’ve suffered enough humiliation these past couple of days.”
“But … it’s our solemn oath.” It was kind of an obvious thing to say, but it was all I could think of at the time.
“Couldn’t we just do the pledge with words?” Darby asked, lifting one shoulder in that shy way of hers.
“Yeah, that should work,” Delaney said. “It would still be binding without the hand stuff. Right, Dawn?”
Suddenly I realized what was going on. They were all embarrassed about being seen. It was worse than insubordination — they were ashamed of our proud Brewster triplet tradition. I felt a stinging sensation and my eyes filled with tears.
I hate it when I cry. It ruins everything — my voice, my vision, my thoughts. If I had my way, I’d never cry. Ever.
“Forget it,” I said, sounding a little hoarse. “No need to pledge. Let’s just get to class.”
I turned and headed in the direction of my fourth period before they could notice my tears. On the way, I went into the bathroom and hid in a stall until I calmed down.
Things were so different lately. The kind of different that means bad things are going to happen — like the low, ominous music that starts playing in a movie before the monster jumps out. I recognized these not-right feelings. I felt them a long time ago, right before Dad moved out.
Nothing really bad was happening … yet. But it could. Maybe it had already started.
I’d said it wasn’t a big deal that my sisters didn’t want to do the oath, but it was. And that was another terrible sign: I’d lied to my sisters.
The next day in Mrs. Champion’s class I let my guard down. I’d been trying to concentrate on the discussion, listening for when I needed to hide, but then I saw that colorful map of the United States on the wall and started daydreaming. I looked at the big peach-colored shape of Alaska and thought it looked like the profile of a bearded man — like Santa Claus without his hat. Then I heard someone call my name.
“Darby? Darby Brewster?”
It was Mrs. Champion. She was leaning against her desk and looking right at me. So was everyone else.
I gulped so loud, I bet people in Alaska could hear it.
Why didn’t I listen more closely? This was what I got for being so daydreamy. I could have bent over to tie my shoe while she was looking for someone to call on. Or, like last Tuesday, I could have asked to go to the bathroom when it seemed like she was ready to move on to someone else.
But I didn’t do any of those things. And now everyone was waiting for my answer. Only I couldn’t talk — all I could do was sit there and swallow.
“Darby?” Mrs. Champion said again. “We were talking about how the people of the Indigenous Nations in what became Texas started making stone tools around 1500 BC. Can you talk about how technology has changed your life in some way?”
This time I opened my mouth to reply, but all that came out was a high-pitched noise. I sounded like those squeaky toys Quincy likes to play with.
“Mrs. Champion?” Wanda was waving her arm.
“Yes, Wanda?”
“Darby lost her voice.”
Mrs. Champion frowned. “She did?”
“Yep. She’s not sick anymore or anything, she just can’t talk. It comes out all squeaky, like you heard.”
“Oh. I see.” Mrs. Champion looked at me again, her head tilted sideways as if I were a painting in a museum. “Is this an aftereffect of your sickness last week?”
I nodded. I figured it wasn’t too much of a lie since the two incidents actually were kind of related.
“All right, let’s move on.” Mrs. Champion called on Elroy Littlefield instead. Elroy started talking about how a new app on his phone lets him take care of a cartoon dog named Peewee and so he’s learning to be more responsible. I couldn’t imagine that taking care of a cartoon dog would be anything like taking care of a real live dog like Quincy. But of course I didn’t say anyt
hing.
When everyone seemed to be listening to Elroy, I wrote Thank You on the margin of my paper and turned it so that Wanda could see it. She put her hands in her lap and made them into thumbs-up.
It felt good to have a friend who was looking out for me — just like my sisters do. At the same time, though, I felt ashamed about all the lying. Dawn says that politicians have to twist the truth a little sometimes when they are trying to get elected, but I don’t think Supreme Court justices do that. They’re all about doing what’s right. I bet Ruth Bader Ginsburg never told a fib to her teacher.
When the bell rang, I jumped up and started to follow Wanda out of the room, but Mrs. Champion waved to me.
“Darby, can I talk with you for a moment?” she said.
A cold, tingly feeling swept over my face, as if I were suddenly in Alaska. In winter.
“It’s all right,” Mrs. Champion said. “I’ll do all the talking.”
I stood silently beside her and waited as all of the students filed out of the room. She then shut the door and turned toward me.
“I’m sorry to hear you lost your voice,” she said. “You’ve had a lot of bad luck lately and haven’t been able to participate in our discussions.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. And anyway, I supposedly had no voice, so I just shrugged.
“I have to remind you that progress reports go out in two weeks. If you don’t speak up in class by then, you’ll have a zero for participation. That will bring down your grade considerably, and a note will be mailed home informing your parents.”
My shame felt extra heavy, as if I were wearing a big metal coat. I couldn’t lift my head and look her in the eyes.
“Do you understand, Darby?”
I nodded, still focusing on the carpet.
“All right then. You’re excused. I hope you feel better soon.”
Mustering up my energy, I made myself look at her and smile a little. Then I quickly turned and sped out the door.
Wanda was waiting for me in the hall.
“Are you in trouble?” she asked. Behind her bangs, her eyes were big and worried.
“Not yet,” I said. “But I will be soon if I don’t figure something out. I … I …” I swallowed hard and made myself say the rest of the sentence. “I’m probably going to get a bad grade.”
“Oh no! Just because you won’t talk?”
I nodded.
“That class is all wrong for you,” she said, shaking her head. “Could you maybe get a different one?”
A thought popped into my mind so fast and so big, I stopped walking. Wanda had to double back to where I was standing.
“You know …” I said, “there might be someone I can talk to about this.”
“Really? Who?”
There were only a few minutes left before I had to get to my next class. I didn’t have time to explain. “I’ll tell you later, okay? Thanks again for your help. Bye!”
Quickly as I could without getting in trouble for running, I trotted around a corner and headed down the corridor where the administrative offices were.
Mr. Plunkett’s door was wide open, just as he says it always is.
“Excuse me, Mr. Plunkett?” I said, poking just my head inside his office.
He looked up at me and took off his glasses. “Yes, Dawn?”
“It’s Darby, actually.”
“I’m sorry. Please come in, Darby. How can I help you?”
“Well … it’s not for me, really. I’m asking for a friend.” Another lie. But I figured I had already told so many on this topic, maybe one more little one wouldn’t matter as much.
“I see. Go on.” He motioned toward a chair and I sat down.
“So my friend, she’s in this class and it’s not going really well,” I said, staring at the spot where the leg of his desk mashed down into the carpet. It was easier to not tell the truth when I wasn’t looking at him. “In fact … my friend … she might not make a good grade.”
“And your friend — she usually does well in class?”
“Oh yes. She always does. But this teacher has a different way of doing things, and it’s really hard for her. Should I — I mean, should she ask for a schedule change?”
“Hmm.” Mr. Plunkett grabbed a tissue from a box on his desk and started cleaning his glasses. “Let me ask this. Are there any things that your friend likes about the class?”
I thought for a moment. Wanda was in the class; that was the best thing. But also, I liked that Mrs. Champion tied history to our everyday lives, showing how it affects us even if it happened a long time ago. The discussions were interesting — even if I found it difficult to take part in them. Plus, she had cool posters on her walls.
“Yes. Lots of things, actually.”
“Well, Darby, I would tell your friend that she should figure out another solution to her problem. Changing classes should be a last resort. And, as you and your sisters already know, it isn’t always an easy thing to do.”
I nodded slowly. He was right. Maybe there were other options I could try first, before asking for a change.
“And if she wants, your friend should come in to talk to me about it,” he added. “I’m glad she has someone like you looking out for her.”
My throat felt tight. Before I realized what I was doing, I said, “Mr. Plunkett? I’m the friend. It’s me.”
“You’re the one having problems in a class?”
“Yeah.” I stared down at my lap. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”
“I appreciate your telling me the truth now. Why do you think you lied?”
I thought for a moment. “Because I was ashamed.”
“About not doing well in a class?”
I nodded.
“Darby, lots and lots of students end up not doing well in a class — for all kinds of reasons. That’s nothing to be ashamed about.”
“But also … we’re sort of used to solving problems on our own.”
“You and your sisters?”
I nodded again.
“There’s no shame in admitting a problem and asking for help. It’s why I’m here. To help people.”
I just kept on nodding. I was starting to feel like a bobblehead doll.
“Have you confided all this to your sisters yet?”
“No,” I said.
“Why not?”
I shrugged. “We’ve been focused on other things. And I only just found out about my grade a few minutes ago.”
“Well, I hope you find a way to work it out. Just remember, if you can’t solve things yourself, it’s okay to ask for help. Everyone has problems now and then.”
“Thanks, Mr. Plunkett.” And I grinned so big, I bet people in Alaska could see it.
I’d just hopped off the final step of the stairs and was heading down the hallway to the living room when I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. Lily was in her room, twirling and muttering to herself.
This was strange because normally I’m the one who twirls — not Lily. Wondering what was going on, I forgot where I was going and why, and stood in her doorway. That’s when I noticed something else strange: On Lily’s bed lay a suitcase, wide open like a yawning mouth.
“I’m going to be so late!” Lily said as she kept walking around her room, rummaging through things and peeking under furniture. “Where on earth did I put my blow dryer?”
“I know! I know!” I said, hopping up and down with my hand in the air. “I saw it in Mom’s bathroom earlier. Hang on. I’ll go check!” I was so happy to be able to help that I skipped all the way to the bathroom and back. “Here you go,” I said, holding out her small blue dryer.
Lily looked relieved. “Oh, thank you!” she said as she wrapped the cord around the dryer and tucked it into her suitcase. “Wow. That was brave of you. I know you and Dawn are scared of that bathroom.”
I blinked my eyes wide. “Right. The ghost.”
I used to not even want to go near that room. All the weird groaning sou
nds scared me, and Dawn, Darby, and I were convinced that a ghost lived in there. Darby wasn’t frightened. In fact, she thought it was neat and wanted to try and meet it. But Dawn and I felt we should stay far away. Only I hadn’t thought about the bathroom ghost in months and months. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been afraid to go in there.
“That’s so strange,” I said, plopping down on Lily’s bed, next to the suitcase.
“You okay, Delaney?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But … I just realized I forgot about the ghost. I wasn’t scared at all just now — not even a little bit. What do you think happened? Why am I not freaked out by it anymore?”
“You’re growing up,” Lily said as she put a few pieces of jewelry into a small leather case. “That’s kind of how it works. You just wake up one day and realize you’re different.”
She’d said different like it was a happy thing and I should be proud. But I wasn’t. To me, it felt like the wonky kind of different. Not bad or good, just weird. Like when Mom rearranges the living room furniture during one of our weekends with Dad. Or when my second-grade teacher got a haircut and looked like a whole new person. Or when I go to a Cheesy Weezy’s in another town and the counter is on the left instead of the right — and they don’t put as many pickle slices on their barbecue burger. The kind of different I’m not prepared for.
As I sat on Lily’s bed, still reeling a little from the different, I stared at the open suitcase and the engagement ring on her finger. And it made me realize that there were lots more differents to come.
“Why are you packing?” I asked.
“I got some time off, so I’m heading out of town for a few days. I’m going to meet Clare in New Orleans.”
“That sounds like fun.” Clare was Lily’s best friend all through middle school and high school. Clare went to a different college, though, and even studied overseas for a while, so now that they’ve graduated, they’re trying to spend time together.
“I like Clare,” I said, hopping off the bed and making faces at myself in Lily’s dresser mirror. “I really hope you make her your maid of honor at your wedding.”
Lily smiled at my reflection from behind me. “I’m sure she’ll play an important part.”
Revenge of the Teacher's Pets Page 10
