Freaky Monday

by Mary Rodgers

  “You didn’t discuss using visual aids….”

  Zane pulled a DVD out of his bag. “I thought you’d be okay with it. My mom says it’s a classic. Is that cool?”

  “Well, what is it?” Ms. Pitt was more exasperated than usual. That made two of us.

  “In Cold Blood. And don’t worry, Ms. Pitt. Because in this scene no one dies or swears or is naked or anything.” The class twittered at that one.

  Ms. Pitt sat down at her desk and gestured to go on. I wouldn’t have allowed A/V equipment in my classroom, even if it had been requested by Zane Henderson.

  “Okay. So,” Zane started with his trademark understated grace. “This movie’s about this sick murder that really took place in Kansas in nineteen fifty-nine. Here, let me show ya.”

  Zane hit PLAY and a grim scene played out in which two guys shot an entire family. It was horrible even though you didn’t see that much actual gore. My mind was reeling:

  1.My oral presentation is going to tank. Crash and burn. Fiery death. Plagues and locusts and famine.

  2.What in the world does this violent scene have to do with To Kill a Mockingbird again?

  3.Why is Ms. Pitt so oblivious to positively everything exactly?

  But more important:

  4. Then again, who cared? This oral presentation gave me an excuse to stare at Zane Henderson without any risk of looking like a stalker. At least I had that going for me.

  Zane hit STOP and pivoted toward the class. His face got a bit red and you could tell he was shy. It was painfully endearing, like he was my own little secret. “So, uh…you’re probably wondering what, uh, this movie has to do with To Kill a Mockingbird.”

  Sally Kirk raised her hand. “I know! I know!”

  Zane paused, unsure how to respond.

  “Both movies are in black-and-white?” She waited expectantly with moon eyes.

  “Uh, what?” responded Zane. In his defense, her answer was lame.

  “To Kill a Mockingbird? We watched it in class? And it was in black-and-white, too?” Sally spoke in perpetual question marks.

  “Oh, yeah. But no. See, this movie is based on the book In Cold Blood, which is by Truman Capote. That famous author, I think he’s dead, and he was like four feet tall.”

  Blank stares. Maybe my presentation couldn’t be too much worse than this….

  “Anyway, In Cold Blood was written by Truman Capote and he was the best friend of Harper Lee, who wrote To Kill a Mockingbird. They grew up in the South together and supposedly the character of Dill is based on Truman.”

  He pulled out a picture of Truman Capote and displayed it for the class. Unfortunately, the picture was practically postage-stamp minuscule and even when straining, you could barely see him. Teddy Hasert (who had the largest head on the planet, though it contained a rather tiny brain), sat in the front row, and apparently he could see the picture: “Oh yeah. I know that dude.”

  “Harper Lee went to Kansas with Truman to do research for the book and stayed there for, like, years. Or a really long time at least, you know, interviewing people and stuff. They say he couldn’t have written it without her.” Zane paused, and Ms. Pitt finally jumped in.

  “How many people knew this before Zane’s presentation, the connection between Harper Lee and Truman Capote?”

  One hand went up. Sally Kirk. Of course. Actually I knew, too, but I didn’t want to be in the Sally Kirk smarty-pants world.

  Ms. Pitt smiled at Sally. “So most of us have learned something today. Zane, why is the book In Cold Blood so important?”

  Crickets were chirping somewhere. “Uh…because…”

  Ms. Pitt tried to help him along. “Because it was a revolutionary event of literature—”

  “—that blurred the line between, you know…reality and fiction,” Zane blurted, almost stunning himself. “When Truman Capote wrote it, he used, like, newspaper writing and then he combined it with creative writing, basically.”

  Ms. Pitt raised her eyebrows. “Very good. And how did his writing change because of Harper Lee?”

  “Well, we’ll never know. I wasn’t there. Just as Capote wasn’t there the night Perry and Smith killed that family in Holcomb, Kansas.” He sort of smiled, maybe a bit proud. That was it. I was officially in love. I knew he was the sort who had to be coaxed and once they were on a roll, they’d be unstoppable. “But I can imagine that Truman as a…well, let’s just say not a lot of dudes like Truman were showing up much in Kansas. He was pretty flamboyant and I bet having Harper with him made the townspeople open up and trust him more. I bet he got a better story because of her.”

  “And I bet you’re right. Great work, Zane. Okay, Hadley. You’re up next.”

  Soup and Nan spun in their seats and shot daggers my way. I froze in my chair.

  “Hadley? I said you’re up.” I had no choice. I felt myself walk to the front of the classroom, empty-handed. No oral presentation to cling to and read from. My heart thump-thumped, thump-thumped in my chest.

  “Whenever you’re ready…” Ms. Pitt offered.

  Except I wasn’t ready. I was dying! Couldn’t she see that?

  Ms. Pitt cleared her throat as if to say “begin already.”

  I cleared my throat in response. And gulped. I had to begin. “So, uh…To Kill a Mockingbird. Great book. Harper Lee knows how to write a book. And she did write one. Which is the one we read.” I just knew it, I couldn’t put any thoughts together. My head was swirling.

  Nan and Soup shared a look and I knew this was going to be as bad as I thought. Ms. Pitt leaned in, concerned.

  “So the book…the book was,” I heard myself say. Was that even a sentence? “To Kill a Mockingbird. I mentioned that…is about this girl. I mean it is and it isn’t. There’s also a trial, so…” The room was getting fuzzy.

  “Hadley, isn’t your topic about how race impacts justice?” Ms. Pitt said.

  I just nodded vaguely.

  “Would you like to talk about that, then?”

  Zane was wincing while he watched me, as if he was sucking on lemons. Focus, focus, focus, you idiot! Think of something!

  “Um…yeah. So O. J. Simpson…?”

  “What about him?”

  “He, uh…well, you know…I have no idea,” I mumbled. This was more pronounced than any other panic attack I’d ever had. I was defenseless and mute.

  “Hadley, I need to speak to you in the hallway.” Ms. Pitt trotted out of the class into the hall and I had no choice but to follow.

  I had never hated a Monday more in my entire life.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Hadley. This is so unlike you,” Ms. Pitt stated the obvious.

  All I could do was look down, humiliated. I had never ever in my life been called into the hall by a teacher.

  “I know it’s unlike me. I tried to tell you before!” was my only defense.

  “Okay, so tell me now. I’m listening.” Ms. Pitt gave me her best “I-really-get-you” eyes. Which only made me know how much she didn’t get me.

  “I switched to this Super Student Planner Plus organizer thing and I guess I spaced on writing down the date. I’m so, so sorry, but I forgot.”

  Ms. Pitt’s eyes grew like saucers. “You forgot?”

  All I could do was nod yes. “Maybe I could have an extension? I’ll skip the dance and cram tonight and—”

  “I’m sorry, Hadley, but absolutely not. Forgetting is not a justifiable reason, I’m afraid. If I gave a free pass to everyone who forgot, where would we be?” Ms. Pitt gave a tough-love smile as my head figuratively exploded.

  Come on, haven’t I proven worthy of just one little tiny exception? My mind scrambled—without my oral presentation, an A in English would be virtually impossible. This was the beginning of the end. I wouldn’t get into Stanford. I wouldn’t even get into Chico State. I’d end up folding sweaters at the Gap or…worse!—panhandling in the streets of LA or…

  Ms. Pitt’s voice interrupted my increasingly paranoid thoughts. “I re
member once when Tatum came in unprepared—”

  When I heard Tatum, a fuse blew in my head. The rip cord was pulled and this crazy monster of emotions opened up its mouth and swallowed me whole.

  “AGAIN WITH TATUM! Why is everyone talking about Tatum? She’s awesome, I get it!” I couldn’t believe how loud that came out, but it was almost like an out-of-body experience. I had no control.

  Ms. Pitt stepped back, shocked apparently by my outburst. But there was no stopping me now…. Everything was boiling over and I kept going. “I can’t believe you chair up the committee on self-esteem! Rule number one—don’t compare the geeky sister to her gorgeous older sister! EVER!”

  Ms. Pitt’s eyes were filled with instant recognition. “Hadley, you are far from geeky. But I realize how someone’s self-image can be completely divorced from all reality whatsoever. You feel inadequate. I understand. And I know that must be hard for you. It’s clear your sense of self is contorted, much like a psychological fun-house mirror in which—”

  “‘Psychological fun-house mirror’? What?” I had to catch my breath.

  “I am merely trying to understand how you feel here!”

  “Then maybe you should stop trying!”

  Ms. Pitt was exasperated. “Can we continue this discussion after school and come up with an adequate solution?”

  I nodded hotly yes.

  “And I vow to never mention Tatum again, as I realize having a sister so dynamic must be—”

  I stormed away, before I did Ms. Pitt bodily harm. If it wasn’t completely clear, I didn’t want to talk about Tatum’s “dynamism,” either. Ms. Pitt was so dense! And she was the worst kind of dense—the sort of dense who thinks they’ve got it all figured out and are totally plugged in, but it turns out they’re as clueless as the day is long.

  Before I entered class, I felt Ms. Pitt touch my shoulder. I spun around and glared. I have never lost my cool so much in front of a teacher in my life. “What?”

  “I assume you’ve read the book.”

  “Of course,” I said, adding defensively: “I wrote down all the vocab words I didn’t know and everything!”

  Ms. Pitt shook her head, disappointed. “Oh, Hadley. To Kill a Mockingbird is not about vocab words…. It’s about life….” She looked me in the eyes. “Do you know what it’s about? I mean, really about?”

  I was tired of being so defensive and was already emotionally raw. “Look, I read it, okay?! I did the assignment!”

  Ms. Pitt cut me off, frayed herself. “So you said, so you said.” She took a big breath. “How about you give a more general presentation on the book itself and we’ll reassess after we’ve both cooled down.”

  “Fine.” Things can’t stink any more, so why not? My life was over, anyway. Any drop of prior confidence I ever possessed leaked out of my body. I was a shell.

  I stood in front of the class and looked out, the whole class staring with disbelief. Nan and Soup were shell-shocked, and worse, Zane could barely make eye contact.

  Ms. Pitt handed me her copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. I flipped open the book and it almost magically—and I don’t use terms like “magically” unless I mean it—stopped on page 138. At least it seriously felt like the book willed itself to stop in a certain spot. My eyes found a passage that seemed to leap off the page. You know in movies when the camera wants to direct your attention to something in particular, so there’s almost like a little spotlight on the item in question? Well, it was sort of like that. Not that I saw an actual light from Moses on the hill or anything, it was more like it was a…feeling. Or something.

  “This quote is from Atticus, the father.” I cleared my throat. “‘You, uh, never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view—’” Deep breath.

  “I wanna understand your sister’s point of view!” some meathead moron blurted from the back of the room. “Tatum Fox is HOT!”

  Someone howled.

  With that, I dropped my book. It was all too much. Why oh why couldn’t a hole appear in the floor and I could just dive right in and disappear forever?

  I tried to finish the quote and look strong. “‘Until you…until…’”

  Ms. Pitt did try to come to my aid and help me along. She bent down, picked up my dropped book, and said, “‘—until you climb into—’”

  And together, Ms. Pitt and I finished the quote aloud: “‘…his skin and walk around in it.’”

  What happened next sounds made up but I swear it is completely true.

  The clock minute hand snapped back one minute.

  The lights flickered.

  I felt a jolt.

  It seemed as if the world had been tipped off its axis and was settling back into its usual holding pattern.

  Ms. Pitt and I just stood there, uncertain what had just happened. And what had happened again exactly?

  “No way! Did the clock totally just snap back and the lights go postal or am I completely hallucinating here?” I exclaimed.

  And then everything gets even weirder. Because while I, Hadley Fox, had asked that question, what I heard was Ms. Pitt’s voice!

  When I turned around, trying to gain just a smidge of clarity or sanity or anything to cling to, I realized I was standing next to—get this—me! NEXT TO HADLEY! Panicked, I looked down at myself, and that was a shock, let me tell you. Because I would NEVER, EVER dress like a wannabe earth mother, but it seemed I was wearing a flowy peasant skirt. I would never own a flowy peasant skirt, let alone wear one to school!

  Then I studied my hands…and they were so not my hands, they were ancient and covered with bizarre rings! Those dorky rings that are only sold in artisan shops where they sell a lot of ceramic bowls and wind chimes. There’s also almost always a cat named Sage or something ambling around the store.

  Anyway, they were Ms. Pitt’s hands! WHAT??

  Wait a second! I APPEARED TO BE—AND YOU KNOW I COULDN’T MAKE THIS UP IF I TRIED—MS. PITT! You probably think I’m crazy right about now, but don’t worry, I was thinking the same thing.

  “Maybe it was some sort of seismic shift…. I felt it, too,” I watched HADLEY say. Except I hadn’t said anything!

  But there “Hadley” was, wearing the same cargo pants and marginally cool T-shirt and striped hoodie I had put on this morning! Standing right there in class! It was me, but it wasn’t me. Was this some sort of molecular mix-up? Some glitch in the physics of the universe? What was happening?

  We turned to stare at each other, totally weirded out.

  “What’s going on?!” I whispered, panicky. Again, that was definitely Ms. Pitt’s voice coming out of my mouth, not mine.

  Let me say right here that from now on I’ll have to call Ms.-Pitt-inhabiting-my-body “Hadley.” And I’ll have to call myself “Ms. Pitt.” (Ugh!)

  “Class, did anyone feel anything?” Hadley asked. “Zane?”

  The class was silent, freaked, sharing stolen looks of complete worry. I know what they were thinking: Why was Hadley addressing the class this way?

  “Uh, no…I didn’t feel anything….” Zane responded uneasily.

  “Dude! This is so freakin’ weird!” another meathead (there are a lot of them at Burroughs Junior High) astutely observed from the back row.

  Both of our pairs of eyes were scared and wide, scanning each other and the room. “Hallway. Now,” Hadley said, and dragged me into the hallway. Or rather, the “me” in question was Ms. Pitt. Hadley closed the door to the classroom to give us some privacy in the hallway.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “No, what are YOU doing?” Hadley responded.

  “There is no possible way you could…be me…is there?” I squawked. “NO!!! No, no, no! This is not possible!” I practically screamed, and pulled at Ms. Pitt’s way-too-much hair.

  “I mean, did we fall into a portal or something? Because I so do not need my life to go all Matrix on me!” Except it wasn’t me at all. Again, my voice sounded entirely too much like
Ms. Pitt. To make matters worse, Mr. Wells appeared out of nowhere and stared at us incredulously.

  “Ah, Mr. Wells. Hello there,” Hadley said officiously with the distinct sound of near-panic creeping into her voice. “We were discussing…movie imagery.”

  “Movie imagery?” He didn’t buy it.

  “Right. From the movie The Matrix.” Oh, boy.

  “I see,” he said skeptically. “And where are your students, Ms. Pitt?”

  “They’re in there,” I said, gesturing to the classroom. Couldn’t he just get lost already?

  “In there, how comforting…” With that, Mr. Wells walked on but the disdain was heavy. He looked back suspiciously over his shoulder a few times.

  “In there? Okay, there is NO way you are going to MY English department chair interview today. Not talking like that, you’re not!” Hadley said.

  “Back up. English chair interviews are so not important right now,” I tried to say calmly. Focus, focus…. “Okay, it was the To Kill a Mockingbird quote that did this. We said the quote together and that’s when this…this…impossible weirdness happened, right?”

  Hadley nodded yes.

  “Then let’s say it again. Maybe we’ll switch back!” I cleared my throat, a little proud of myself—that would do it, very clever solution. See, I am an honor student, after all…. “‘You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view—’”

  I gave Hadley a look and she joined in: “‘—and climb into his skin and walk around in it.’”

  We both stared at each other, expecting another lights-flicker, body-switching moment.

  Nothing.

  Crap.

  I closed my eyes tightly, scrambling for an answer when I heard an—

  “Ohmmm…ohmmm…” Hadley also had her eyes closed, and her thumb and middle finger were touching as if in some prayer mode.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Releasing my need to the universe,” Hadley said with pseudo-calm.

  “I don’t release my need to the universe!”

  “You should,” Hadley said as if this was totally logical. “Obviously the universe is trying to tell us something.”