Revenge of the Teacher's Pets

by Jennifer Ziegler

  “This might be an obvious question, but how come you don’t just speak up?” Dawn asked.

  I lifted my shoulder. “It’s difficult. You know how I am.”

  “You’ve spoken up before,” Delaney said. “You gave a speech at the Almost Wedding.”

  “That was different. I was surrounded by friends and family there. Here it’s with a bunch of kids and a teacher I don’t know very well.”

  “But how can you say you don’t know anyone in your class? This is a small town. We knew a lot of them before we were potty trained,” Delaney said.

  I drooped even more. “I mean … I know who they are. I just don’t know them like I know you guys, or Alex, or the Neighbors, or …”

  “I get it,” Dawn said. “So what are you afraid might happen if you try to speak up?”

  “Let’s see …” Delaney started counting on her fingers. “She could faint or throw up, or remember that time in third grade when she hid behind the big potted plant all day?”

  It was nice that Delaney appeared to be on my side, but hearing her rattle off all those times I was shy made me feel even more ashamed.

  “Hmm.” Dawn tapped her chin with her finger. “I hate to say it, but you’re right. This could get worse and end up being a far bigger problem. We have to do something — something drastic. And I think you two already know what that is.”

  At school the next day, Darby and I wore the same shirt and the same type of jeans. The only thing different was our shoes and our hair clips. Dawn reviewed our grand plan as we stood in the foyer before the bell rang.

  “All right then. Darby, you will be Delaney and go to her Spanish class in room … what is it again, Delaney?”

  “Room 203.”

  “Right. And Delaney, today you’ll go to Mrs. Champion’s room and be Darby, and I’ll be her the next day. Remember — participate in the discussion, but don’t babble. Just talk a little and act shy, otherwise you might give yourself away.”

  “Got it,” I said, hopping on the toes of my sneakers.

  “Also don’t hop like that.”

  “Right.” I made my feet stop. It worked, but then the wiggles moved to my knees.

  Being Darby is hardest for me. When I’m Dawn, I just make my eyebrows frown a lot, like I’m thinking up strategies all the time. Plus, she does this thing where she taps her index finger against her chin.

  But Darby is the quietest of the triplets — the one who can sit still and do nothing. And both of those things are difficult for me. So whenever I’m Darby, I try to put on a daydreamy expression and look a little bit timid. I also try to say the word mirror in a sentence because Darby pronounces it differently from Dawn or me. She makes it one syllable — meer — instead of two.

  People might think that my sisters and I trade places a lot, but really we’ve only done this a few times in our whole triplet history. We can never fool our family or people really close to the family, like Alex, so that limits us. But mainly we don’t try it more often because it’s tough to pull off. So we have to have a really good reason for it — like today.

  “Delaney, you’re bouncing again,” Dawn said.

  “Sorry, I’m just nervous. Darby, what do you do when you’re nervous?”

  She looked up toward the ceiling for a moment, a sign that she’s thinking hard. “I climb a tree,” she said.

  “I mean, what do you do at school?”

  “Sometimes I bend down behind my desk so no one can see me.”

  “I can do that!”

  “All right. Bending, no bouncing,” Dawn said. “After class, you guys will meet in the girls’ room by the library, and switch out your shoes and change hairstyles. Then you can be yourselves again.”

  “Thank you, Delaney.” Darby put her hand on my arm and gave it a little squeeze. “And you, too, Dawn. I’m sorry I’m so shy.”

  Dawn shook her head. “I blame myself that we’re in this situation. We should have started your speaking-to-strangers practice earlier in the summer. I failed you as a leader.”

  Just then the bell rang and students started scurrying everywhere. I automatically headed for the middle hallway, toward my Spanish class, and then heard Dawn shout something. That’s when I realized I was going the wrong way. I quickly turned and zoomed the other direction, almost knocking down a couple of sixth graders. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dawn slap her hand to her brow and shake her head.

  I needed to start acting more Darby-like. First off, even though it was hard, I made myself slow down. I knew most people didn’t move as fast as I did. But how could they stand it? I felt like a snail on crutches.

  After what felt like six months, I finally reached the classroom. Last night, Darby had drawn a map of the room and marked where her desk was. She’s good at drawing, so I found it easily. She’d even sketched in a cartoon girl with dark hair hanging in her eyes.

  Even after she’d told us about it and drawn the map, I was surprised to see the desks in an oval shape. It kind of made me want to turn a cartwheel in the middle, but I didn’t. Because Darby wouldn’t do that.

  I counted the desks from the teacher’s spot and noticed a girl whose hair was short in the back and long in front. I recognized her from the map and knew that the empty spot next to her was Darby’s usual seat. The map also said the girl’s name was Wanda.

  “Hi,” she said to me when I put down Darby’s backpack and settled into the chair beside her.

  “Hi,” I said. “Wow. You look just like your picture.”

  She seemed really confused and that’s when I realized my mistake. Also, I thought I recognized her from one of my other classes — only I wasn’t sure which one.

  Luckily, at that point the tardy bell rang and the teacher started calling out instructions. Everybody had to get their textbooks and read pages 33 to 35 until the morning announcements came on. Darby had already warned me about the flag being high on the wall behind her — she’d even drawn it carefully on the room map — so I was ready when it came time to do the Pledge of Allegiance.

  Saying the Pledge with my sisters is one of the things I miss most about not being in class with them. It’s the most dignified thing we do all day, and I loved hearing our voices blend together in unison. When we were all done and sitting back down, I noticed a few people staring at me. Then Mrs. Champion said, “My, Darby. That was well done. I’m glad your voice is feeling better.”

  I was so embarrassed that I had forgotten to say the Pledge like Darby that I blushed a little and ducked my head. Luckily, that’s a very Darby-like thing to do, so I was pretty sure I fixed everything.

  “All right, everyone, if you haven’t yet finished the reading, you can do so tonight as part of your homework,” Mrs. Champion said as she slowly paced around inside the oval. “Now let’s begin our class discussion.”

  I noticed that the girl next to me with the great haircut was watching me. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just smiled and waved to her, only because I thought Darby might have done that.

  “Turn to page thirty-seven,” Mrs. Champion said. There was a lot of shuffling as all the students followed directions. When it got quiet again, she said, “Now, the Caddo Nation was one of several tribes organized into a confederacy.” She held up the textbook and pointed to the graphic that illustrated how the society worked. On the screen behind her was a projection of the website for today’s Caddo Nation. “By ‘confederacy,’ I mean that each tribe in this alliance kept its own unique characteristics, but they all worked together as a unit when it came to major decisions. Do you think this was a good arrangement? If so, why?”

  A few students called out answers like “strength in numbers” and “I’ll scratch your back, you scratch mine.” I remembered this unit from my history class. Only my teacher didn’t really have us talk about it. Mainly we did worksheets.

  “Good answers,” Mrs. Champion said. “Can any of you share a time when you worked together with people to solve a problem?”

 
; I sat up super straight. This was my chance! Or Darby’s chance, actually.

  “Mrs. Champion?” I said, raising my hand.

  “Yes, Darby. I’m so happy you’d like to contribute. Go right ahead.”

  I realized I wasn’t sure if they stood up to share or not, but it seemed like the thing to do when speaking to a group. So I got out of my chair, opened my mouth, and then … I froze. Because I hadn’t actually thought about what I would say. When had I (or Darby) worked with people to solve a problem? That was difficult. Not because we’d never done anything like that. It was tough because we did that all the time. When you’re a triplet, you’re always consulting with your sisters, coming up with plans, and figuring things out together.

  Luckily, pausing like that made me seem shy, which is a very Darby way to be. Mrs. Champion walked a little closer and smiled at me. “It’s all right, Darby. Say whatever it is you want to say. There’s no right or wrong answer.”

  I nodded, took a deep breath, and shared the first thing to pop into my head.

  “One time our mom was going to make a peach cobbler and she got out a big bag of flour from the pantry and set it on the floor. Then the phone rang and when she came back, she found that Quincy — our dog — had gotten into the bag and there was white all over the place. Like snow! It was kind of déjà vu because of what happened last Christmas — but that’s another story. Anyway, Quincy looked like a ghost dog because he was covered in flour. We had to put him in his crate in the backyard so we could clean. Mom was so mad, every time she scooped up some flour with the dustpan, she would go outside and dump it on his head. So then, once we got the kitchen clean, my sisters and I had to give Quincy a bath. But when we sprayed water on him, the flour got all sticky and he looked like a dog made out of clay. It took a lot of washings and rinsings, but finally we got him clean. And for dessert, Mom gave us peaches and ice cream — which is good, but not as good as cobbler.” I paused for a second. “The end.”

  It was real quiet as I sat back down.

  “Okay,” Mrs. Champion said. “Thank you, Darby. Anyone else want to share?”

  I clapped my hands together under the desk to give myself a high five (which I guess is actually a low five). It felt good to help out my sister.

  Once Mrs. Champion had walked to the other end of the oval, the girl with the cool hair leaned sideways, toward me. “So where’s Darby today?” she whispered.

  “She’s in Span —” I stopped whispering and my face went tingly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  The girl’s eyebrows went up — at least I think they did because her bangs seemed to go even lower. “Why didn’t she come today?” she went on. “Is it because she’s too shy to talk?”

  I glanced all around to make sure no one was listening or watching. Then I nodded.

  Wanda shook her head. “Too bad. I brought something I wanted to give her.”

  “What is it?”

  “No offense, but I don’t want to say. I’d rather it be a surprise.”

  “You aren’t going to tell Mrs. Champion that we did a switcheroo, are you?’

  One side of her mouth smiled. “No,” she said. “And you won’t tell Darby I have something for her? So it can be a total surprise?”

  “Sure thing.” And we shook hands on it.

  Everything had gone okay with Delaney posing as Darby. And we were all set to meet up at the 4-H Club show later. That left one thing on my to-do list for the day.

  Mr. Plunkett was typing on his computer keyboard when I showed up at his office after school. In fact, he was typing so fast and loud, it took him a long time to notice me. Eventually he glanced up.

  “Hello, Dawn. Come on in and sit down.” He took his hands off of the keyboard and gestured toward one of the chairs across from him. “It is Dawn, right?” I nodded.

  “I won’t be long,” I said, leaning against one of the chairs instead of sitting. “I have to be somewhere soon. I just came by to see if there have been any additional openings in Color Guard.”

  “I’m afraid not. I’m sorry.” And he did look a little sorry.

  “Could you just check anyway?” I smiled sweetly. “In case there were some changes, but you were so busy you forgot?”

  “Sure. But I need a minute to finish this up. Have a seat while you wait.”

  I checked the clock on his wall. “I guess that would be all right,” I said, plopping into the chair I’d been leaning on. Darby and Delaney and I didn’t have to be at the goat show for a little while, and I’d already told them during Cheer Squad that I’d meet them there. I wanted to make sure Mr. Plunkett hadn’t forgotten about us and our situation.

  As he typed, I glanced around his office and spotted a couple of things I hadn’t noticed before. Like a framed photo of a boy that looked like Mr. Plunkett if he had been shrunk down in size and splattered with freckles. I also noticed a small framed poster on the wall to the left. It showed a person in one of those big rubber unicorn-head masks who seemed to be dancing with maracas. Below in colorful text was the quote “Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.” The last thing I noticed was a tall spiky plant in a green pot. The tips of the leaves were turning brown and seemed more raggedy than they should be. I felt sorry for it.

  “This year hasn’t started off the way you’d hoped, has it?”

  “Huh?” I was so lost in thought, it took me a while to realize Mr. Plunkett had said something to me. “Oh. Yeah. I mean, no, it hasn’t.”

  He spun around in his chair so that he was facing me instead of the computer. “Well, I’m afraid there’s still just one opening in Color Guard. Would you like me to transfer you into the class?”

  I let out a long sigh, slowly slumping like a punctured balloon. “No. Thank you, though. We’re all for one and one for all — so it has to be three openings.”

  Mr. Plunkett tilted his head as he looked at me. “Why is it so important for you three to remain together?”

  “Because,” I said with a shrug. “Because we’ve always done almost everything together. It’s who we are.”

  “I see. But who are you? Do you know what you want?”

  “Of course I do. I’m going to be president someday.” I lifted my chin proudly.

  “Do Darby and Delaney want to be president, too?”

  I laughed at that. “No way. They aren’t interested in the job. But they want me to have it.”

  “I see.” He nodded slowly and tapped his fingertips together. “So you three do have some different interests.”

  “Well … yeah. But we’re still a team,” I said. “I’m going to be president, Darby is going to be chief justice of the Supreme Court, and Delaney is going to be Speaker of the House. It’s like … baseball. Different positions, same team.”

  Mr. Plunkett smiled that little smile of his. “Good analogy,” he said. “What if you were to end up separated? On different teams? What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “That’s the craziest notion I ever heard,” I said with a chuckle. “You clearly don’t realize how much my sisters need me. Without me, they’d be like … ice cream without the cone. Pancakes without syrup. Chips without salsa.” Since he liked analogies so much, I figured I’d keep using them. And obviously I was hungry.

  “And you need your sisters, too?”

  “Sure I do. Not all the time, though. Some days I need them a lot, and some days I need them a little. Some days not at all.”

  “What about today?”

  “Today … remains to be seen.” I frowned down at my lap. “They’ve been kind of unreliable lately.”

  “How so?”

  “At meetings they show up late or leave early. Even when they’re present, they seem distracted. And Darby completely forgot an important meet-up.” The more I talked, the more I could feel hurt and anger bubble up inside me — as if I’d packed up all those bad feelings into a soda can and just now popped the lid. “Anyway, I really think this might be your fault. This whole separated s
chedule thing is messing up everyone.”

  Mr. Plunkett looked surprised. “Is that so? You think things would be better if you had classes together?”

  “Yep. I mean, I’m all right. I’m mainly concerned for the well-being of my sisters.”

  “That’s good of you.”

  “Yep. The thing is, you’re robbing them of my guidance. They feel lost.”

  “Hmm.” He nodded and leaned across his desk, resting his chin on his hand. “And what are you being robbed of?”

  “Well … my guidance. It’s what I do.”

  I could tell Mr. Plunkett still didn’t get how it was for me and my sisters. Of course, no one did. The plain truth was that we weren’t as effective when we weren’t together — and I wasn’t as effective, either. United, we were the Brewster Triplets. By myself, I was Just Dawn. And Just Dawn, brilliant leader that she was, didn’t have the same power as Dawn with her sisters. I was a different me, a not-as-good me. But this was hard to explain to someone who wasn’t one of us.

  “I’m sorry to hear you feel this way,” Mr. Plunkett said, and again, he did look a little sorry. It helped settle down those feelings slow-boiling inside me. “But I do appreciate your giving this a chance. Keep trying it for a couple more months and we can check in again near the end of the semester. Okay?”

  “Okay. But, you know, getting into Color Guard would sure help in the meantime.”

  “I understand.”

  “Well, I should go meet my sisters,” I said, standing. “I’ll be back tomorrow to have you check the class again.”

  “There’s no need. If Color Guard gets two more openings, I’ll let you know. You can trust me.” He smiled that itty-bitty smile again.

  I thought for a moment. “Yeah, but you’re pretty busy and might accidentally overlook something. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather come here in person.”

  “That’s fine. But you might end up waiting, like today.”

  “That would be all right. We could chat some more. Not that I need counseling or anything — I’d just be making polite conversation.”