“I did it for Helen. To keep her company,” Annie explains (again). Leaving out the other part (again). The part about whose idea it was to walk to town in the first place. “Her parents like James better,” she explains (again).
“Nonsense. Her parents do not like James better,” he says (again). “They were worried sick . . . just like me . . . and besides, a clever girl like you knows better than to go off like that, without a word to anyone.”
Annie nods. She is glad her father remembers she is clever.
“Running off like that is definitely against the rules. Now and forever,” he declares. “Do we understand each other, Annie?”
“Yes.” Annie bites into a corner of her perfect sandwich.
“Frankly, I think we’re not doing badly, you and I . . . considering . . . well, considering Mommy . . .”
“I wish Mommy could just be here,” Annie says. “We need Mommy.”
Something thumps outside on the porch. Professor Rossi opens the screen door and Al walks in. He shakes himself off.
“Hello, Al,” says Professor Rossi.
Al turns his head in surprise. He opens his mouth to bark at Annie’s father, but nothing comes out.
“He likes you,” Annie points out. She would like to say something else, of course. See, Daddy? I told you dogs are fun and brave. Look how SOME dogs even go out in a storm to find you! Perhaps this isn’t the day to say it, though. Tomorrow would be better — yes, tomorrow. They can walk to town, just Annie and her father. The letter from Miss Meadows will be waiting at the post office for sure, and Annie will read it out loud, and perhaps they’ll get some ice cream for the long walk home. And on the way home, she will say (in the sweetest possible way), If we get a dog, Daddy, how about calling her Miss Phoebe?
They have cookies on the couch for dessert, and the rain comes down over Pineapple Street. Thunder clouds roll in the skies over Pineapple Street, and Professor Rossi brings out his notebook and tells Annie something that sounds to her like a secret.
“I’ve been writing some things about Mommy in here.”
“A book! Are you writing a whole book about Mommy?” Annie jumps off the couch. Now there will be two books about her mother!
“Well . . .” Clearing his throat. “I hardly think we can call this a book . . .”
“I hope the chapters are short,” Annie says. “I like short chapters best, with medium print . . . and what about pictures? You have to have pictures of Mommy,” she goes on. “And me. A picture of me with Mommy, you could put that on the cover!”
“Slow down, Miss Boss.” Professor Rossi whistles. “A book is a pretty tall order,” he says. “Right now, I’m going word by word . . . day by day, trying my best to keep Mommy close . . . and let her go . . . and keep her close again . . .”
“Maybe you want someone to help you. I could help you. Because I know everything about Mommy and I know how to be an author.”
“Interesting idea.” Professor Rossi rubs his chin thoughtfully, and the sides of his face. “Of course, we’d have to keep an eye on that bossy streak of yours”— teasing —“but all things considered, Annie, I’d be honored to have your help.”
“Really?” Breathless.
“Really.”
“Good,” Annie says, “and now I won’t be mad at you.”
“You’re mad at me?”
“Yes. Because you always forget to pay attention to me, and that really hurts my feelings.”
“Always?” Eyebrows up.
“Okay, sometimes.”
“Fair enough. I will work on paying more attention to you,” promises Professor Rossi. “Now, are you ready to read a few things I wrote about Mommy?”
“Wait!” Annie bolts across the room, to her pink-flowered bedroom on Pineapple Street. “I have to get something.”
Remembering Mrs. Rossi is just where she’d left it this morning, under her pillow on the bed with the blue summer quilt. Annie comes back and sits right up close to her father. He reads first. Word by word from his brown notebook, and Annie loves every single word he reads about her mother. “Word by word . . . day by day,” her father had said, “trying my best to keep Mommy close . . . and let her go . . . and keep her close again.” Afterward, slowly and together, they turn the pages of Remembering Mrs. Rossi . . . keeping her close . . . When they get to the end, they go back to page one and start again.
Where are you, Mrs. Rossi?
Did you forget to come to school?
Where are you, Mrs. Rossi?
Don’t you like us anymore?
Hey, Mrs. Rossi! I saw you
That time at the market
Yikes! Teacher in the market!
Hide! Duck! Spy!
Spy on Mrs. Rossi
Shopping with her girl
Shopping with her Annie
The way my mom shops with me
Where are you, Mrs. Rossi?
Nobody’s mom should die
There are things you should know about Mrs. Rossi. Like the color of her hair. Brown! And guess what she eats for lunch every day? A bagel with cream cheese and tomatoes! And guess what’s on her desk? Pictures of her family, and when you look at the pictures, you feel like you know her whole family! Mrs. Rossi is always losing her DAILY LESSON PLANNER (10 times a day) and guess who always finds it? ME! I wish I could look inside. Just one little second, pleeeeease, but no one’s allowed, not even me. Mrs. Rossi writes top-secret stuff in there, and I bet there’s good stuff about me in there.
This is true. One time my head hurts a little, so I get to have lunch in the classroom. Just me and Mrs. Rossi. Then I do something. (Shhh.) I look inside the DAILY LESSON PLANNER. Just for a second, but she sees. I hate how she says, “I’m surprised at you, Carrie.” It’s the second worst day of my life.
Here’s the last thing you should know about Mrs. Rossi and me and how Mrs. Owens called my parents that day. She told my parents and then my parents told me, and everyone cried. Because Mrs. Rossi died. It was the worst day ever.
One time I forgot my house key. I hate when I forget my house key because they don’t let you go home after school. Which isn’t fair. They make you go to the principal’s office. Mrs. Owens always says the same thing. Which is this: I’m afraid we’ll have to call your mother at work, Alex.
I hate calling my mom at work because her boss is mean and she has to talk in a whisper to her own kid. When she hears I forgot my house key again, she gets mad because I’m never responsible enough to suit her. Now bad news. She can’t leave work or pick me up for a whole hour. Which isn’t fair. I’m hungry (starving) and I hate being the last kid in school.
I sit all by myself on that hard bench in the office and no one even talks to me. I look in my book bag for something to eat and there’s nothing to eat, not even gum, and if you think I’m doing homework, forget it. Even the teachers are going home. They’re all punching out and you never saw so many happy teachers in your life. I say hi to Mrs. Rossi even though I’m in a bad mood. I tell her my mom is always late; she needs to be more responsible. Mrs. Rossi laughs. Which is nice because people don’t usually think I’m that funny. Then she starts digging around in her big bag: Cards! A box of animal crackers, the kind little kids eat!
We play gin rummy and eat all the crackers and I win three times. Mrs. Rossi wins five. Then my mom comes and I go home.
Dear Mrs. Rossi,
I’m still pretty mad at you. I don’t think you should have called my parents that time. Plus I wish you didn’t call in the middle of dinner. Grownups always forget about dessert when your teacher’s on the phone. Plus I wish you didn’t say, LEO IS NEGLECTING HIS HOMEWORK.
Because now I’m not allowed to watch TV for the rest of my life. Plus now I have to do my homework in public every day, at the kitchen table while my mom is making dinner. Poor old Leo — work, work, work. When my dad comes home from his job at the shoe store, the whole family sits around looking at my homework. Even my little brother Herbie looks, a
nd he can’t even read! I like when my mom says, I knew you could do it, Leo. I like when my dad says, Go get ’em, Leo. He always says that if you do a good job.
Your student forever,
Leo
It is raining cats and dogs! We can’t go out for recess! Everyone’s mad! Then Mr. Rossi knocks on the door and Mrs. Rossi jumps in the air because here is her husband!! He has cupcakes!! Hey, it’s Mrs. Rossi’s birthday!! We all sing happy birthday but she won’t tell how old she is!! I love cupcakes so much!
Mrs. Rossi was a spy. She had to be. She’s the only one who figured out where I was going all those times after school. Not even Joe figured it out, and he’s my best friend. Not even my mom figured it out, and she’s my mom. I’m supposed to go straight home after school. I always used to. Then I found the firehouse. It’s over on 113th Street and I started going there. I liked having a secret. I liked sitting on the curb across the street from the firehouse. I liked waiting for something to happen. Mostly nothing happened but that’s okay. I liked watching the guys over there when the big red door was open. They looked nice. I didn’t say anything or wave, no baby stuff. Sometimes I drew stuff. I’m not a great artist or anything but I like to draw. I guess if I keep practicing, I’ll get really good.
Then one day Mrs. Rossi the spy showed up . . . and there goes my secret, right out the window. Mrs. Rossi sat on the curb. We watched the firehouse and you could tell she liked my firehouse. I said, My father used to be a fire-fighter, but I think the spy already knew. I said, He died when I was a baby. I think she knew that, too. Then we crossed the street. Mrs. Rossi knocked on the big red door. We went in. Seven is my lucky number and seven firefighters shook my hand, and also Mrs. Rossi’s! It was the greatest day of my life! Now when I sit on my curb, my friends at the firehouse wave to me. Sometimes they come over to see what I’m drawing.
Mrs. Rossi always wore plain blue shoes. One day she wore ooh-la-laaaaa fancy red shoes to school! And I saw them first, because I was the first one in school!
Me: I like your red shoes, Mrs. Rossi.
Mrs. Rossi: Thank you, Tess.
Me: Where are your regular shoes, the old blue ones?
Mrs. Rossi: Under my bed, I suppose.
Me: My mother has purple shoes. But only for special occasions. I love special occasions, Mrs. Rossi.
Mrs. Rossi: Well, then, I’ll tell you a little secret. Today is a special occasion. My anniversary!
Me: Is there a party? I love parties, Mrs. Rossi.
Mrs. Rossi: Actually, my husband is taking me to lunch today!
Me: To a restaurant????
Mrs. Rossi: To my favorite restaurant. I think I’ll have spaghetti.
Me: Could I come, too, Mrs. Rossi? Pleeeease! The food in this school is really bad.
This is a picture of Mrs. Rossi and the red shoes. She looks pretty. Her sweater is red, too.
Give me an M
M!
Give me an R
R!
Give me an S
S!
Give me an R
R!
Give me an O
O!
Give me an SSI
SSI!
Who d’ya love?
Mrs. Rossi!!
Who?
Mrs. Rossi!!
One more time!
Yaaaaay, Mrs. Rossi!!
My name is Frankie and I feel sorry for Mrs. Rossi. Only old people are supposed to die. And bad guys on TV. A lot of teachers get a headache or a cold. Mr. Lubner the gym teacher in my old school broke his leg that time. I signed Frankie on his cast. I never heard about a teacher who died. Not even on TV. And that’s why I feel sorry for Mrs. Rossi.
I never heard of a Complaint Box until the first day of sixth grade and Mrs. Rossi was telling us all about sixth grade and Matthew said, Homework on the weekend?? No fair!! Mrs. Rossi usually gets mad when you call out, but that time she said, File your complaint in the Complaint Box, Matthew. And there really was a box! And you’re honestly allowed to write your complaint on a green card and drop it in the box and you don’t even have to sign your name! I know a fancy way to say you don’t sign your name. ANONYMOUS. Sometimes Mrs. Rossi uses big words so we all know a few big words before the end of sixth grade and she wrote ANONYMOUS on the board one time and we had to write it in our notebooks. It’s my favorite big word. Once I was mad because I wanted to go to the park for recess and it wasn’t even raining that hard and we had to stay in. I filed an ANONYMOUS complaint. Once my dog stole my assignment pad so I didn’t do my social studies homework and Mrs. Rossi said, Under the circumstances, Lola, you should have called a friend. She said it in front of the whole class and I turned red. I filed an ANONYMOUS complaint.
Every Friday Mrs. Rossi put the Complaint Box on her desk so she could read all the things we wrote on green cards. She said maybe those cards would make her a better teacher . . . but I think she already was the best teacher in the world.
ANONYMOUS COMPLAINT
Mrs. Rossi forgot to say goodbye. I really wish I could see her again.
Mrs. Rossi used to get mad if you called out and she used to get mad if you didn’t raise your hand and if you forgot your homework and passed notes in school and talked under your breath and slouched. Mrs. Rossi used to get mad if you laughed when someone messed up and if you said something mean to a girl and threw food in the cafeteria and didn’t empty your tray. Mrs. Rossi used to get mad if you ran up the stairs or down the stairs and if you said yeah instead of yes. But watch out if you’re ever in a fight, because that’s when she got really mad. One time I got in this teeny little fight with Joe in the cafeteria (which he started) and he got a bloody nose. Mrs. Rossi was super-mad. Everyone went to the nurse’s office (me, Joe, Mrs. Rossi, Mrs. Owens). Joe got to lie down. I got to stand in a corner. Now they’re all looking at poor old Joe with this blue ice pack on his nose. I was hoping they’d forget about me but no luck. Mrs. Rossi made me call Joe’s parents to explain about the teeny little bump on his nose. She made me call my parents, too. It was exhausting. I was supposed to have gym but Mrs. Rossi would not let me go to gym. She made me stay there with Joe until he felt better. I was mad. Then we started fooling around. When the nurse wasn’t looking, we had a catch with the ice pack.
**This is Mrs. Rossi’s wagon. Every week she drags it all the way to the public library and all the way back, just so we can have a new supply of books in room 222. I really hate reading. I would rather watch a scary movie on TV. Or run around the basketball court — it’s a lot more fun than reading.
Chapter 1: My Father and I Walk to School
My father likes walking me to school. He says walking me to school always gets his day off to a good start. We’re supposed to leave the house promptly at 8. Sometimes we do. Sometimes we don’t. Then he’s late for work, I’m late for school, and no one’s day is off to a good start.
Chapter 2: Two Muffins
One day we leave at 8:15. Not my fault. Halfway there, uh-oh, it’s raining! No umbrella. Not my fault. We get a little wet . . . He says, Poor me, soaking wet! Passing Carmen’s Diner — mmnnn — steamy hot muffins in the window.
Pleeeeease, Daddy, please!! The lady puts two in a bag. One for me, one for Mrs. Rossi (That Olivia’s such a nice girl). I think I’ll eat mine now, walking in the rain. Father says, Bad idea, Olivia . . . but I open the bag and pull out my beautiful muffin. Then — nooooo!! — all the rain in the world falls right on my muffin. It breaks into millions of pieces on the sidewalk. I start to cry. Father doesn’t say, I told you so, but we both know what he’s thinking.
Chapter 3: One Muffin
He drops me off at school. I am sad. I walk sadly upstairs to room 222 and I can smell Mrs. Rossi’s muffin. I pick off a tiny little piece and stuff it in my mouth. I do it again . . . again . . . again . . . goodbye, muffin.
Chapter 4: Zero Muffins
Eating Mrs. Rossi’s muffin wasn’t the nicest thing I’ve ever done in the world. I wish I didn’t do i
t and I’m sorry, Mrs. Rossi. And that is my confession.
Dear Mr. Mayor (Sir):
Did you ever hear of Mrs. Rossi? Because she used to be my teacher and she died. She wasn’t even that old. Just medium old. Mrs. Rossi was extremely pretty, for a teacher. She always put on red lipstick right before lunch and she had this dressy red coat and once she let me try it on! But she didn’t like spiders and one time I saw her smash a big spider. Mrs. Rossi loved books and stories and reading and one time she invited a real Author to our class so he could tell us how to be a famous Author. He was very, very old and very, very kind. He even brought slides so we could see his house and his desk and you were allowed to ask a question and I asked, Do you like your job? Guess what Mrs. Rossi told the Author? She told him we were Authors, too!
I never met a famous Mayor before. Do you like your job? Do you want to come over to our school? Go to room 222. Drew’s mom made cupcakes when the Author came over. Do you like cupcakes? We have the best classroom. Mrs. Rossi said it’s our home away from home. There’s a science corner and library corner and a giant map of New York City. Mrs. Rossi made lots of red circles around her favorite places on the map of New York City. There’s a sign on our door. Mrs. Rossi’s Class. Nobody’s allowed to touch our sign. We’re keeping it there forever.
Remembering Mrs. Rossi (9780763670900) Page 6
