But was this terrible?
Really terrible?
I don’t think so.
Here are two reasons why:
TWO REASONS WHY THIS WAS NOT TERRIBLE
Ruining lipstick (or eyeliner) isn’t life-threatening. Wearing that stuff is probably bad for you anyway.
Sometimes when people lose their minds, they do way worse things than Iggy did. Like for instance, they write with lipstick on the walls. You know who I’m talking about. At least Iggy didn’t do that.
Unfortunately, neither of these is an extenuating circumstance.
CHAPTER 11
PUTTZI
Yes. You’re right. We’re here. This is the chapter about Number 3.
Remember Number 3? The thing we really, completely wish we hadn’t done.
The thing we feel really bad about. The thing we wish we had never thought of.
Why is this chapter called Puttzi?
Because I’m the author, that’s why.
What is Puttzi?
Puttzi is Iggy’s fourth-grade teacher. Of course, he didn’t call her Puttzi. Not to her face, anyway. He called her Ms. Schulberger. She was his favorite teacher ever. She was young and pretty and nice. She wore necklaces with different funny things on them, like a tiny hammer or fractions. She didn’t call Sharing Sharing; she called it Gossip, and you could tell stuff you weren’t supposed to know as long as it didn’t hurt anyone’s feelings. Instead of one class pet, her class had three, four if you counted crickets. For Global Studies, she spun the globe and wherever your finger stopped, that was where you were going to live when you grew up, so you had to learn three words in its language, and she didn’t get mad if two of them were Bathroom! Quick!
Ms. Schulberger never got mad. All of Iggy’s other teachers had gotten mad. His secondgrade teacher, Ms. Dixson, had been mad most of the year. She had sent Iggy to the principal so many times that the principal got mad too. “Not again, Iggy!” she’d yelled. Even the school secretary got mad. “I am tired of seeing your face, Iggy Frangi,” she’d said. It had hurt Iggy’s feelings.
Ms. Schulberger never hurt his feelings. Every morning, she said “Iggy!” like she was happy to see him. When he painted his buttons during art, she didn’t get mad. She said they looked nice. The closest she ever got to being mad was when he licked the fish. And even then, she said, “If you’re hungry, tell me, and I’ll give you a snack.”
Iggy loved Ms. Schulberger. He never would have said it out loud, but he did. Out loud he said “She’s pretty nice.” If he was with Arch or Owen or Skyler, he said “Puttzi’s a nutzi.” As long as she didn’t hear it, it wasn’t bad.
Ms. Schulberger was called Puttzi because of her car. She had the tiniest car in the world, a putt-putt car. It looked like an oven with tires. It was so tiny that one time, he and Arch and Owen had almost picked it up. They couldn’t quite, but almost. If Skyler had been there, they would have.
Secretly Iggy was glad Skyler wasn’t there. Skyler was mean. He might have helped them pick it up, but he also would have made them do something else to it, like drop it on its side. Iggy didn’t want to do that to Ms. Schulberger or her tiny putt-putt car.
But one Monday—
One Monday—
Can we take a break here?
Thank you.
CHAPTER 12
CLOUDS
CHAPTER 13
THE NEW OLD DESKS
Okay. Let’s do it.
One Monday, the fourth graders came in to find Ms. Schulberger’s classroom had changed. Over the weekend, their two-kid tables had been replaced with separate desks for each kid. And these weren’t just any desks. These were special big-kid desks with the chair part connected to the table part. And a lift-up top, so you could put your stuff inside and keep it secret. The new desks were arranged around the classroom in two U-shaped rows.
Ms. Schulberger explained that their tables had been needed at another school. Their new desks, she said, were actually very old. They would be getting brand-new ones very soon. In the meantime, they would have to make do with these old desks. “I’m sorry about that, kids,” said Ms. Schulberger.
Iggy and Arch exchanged looks. What was she talking about? These desks were fantastic. They were the best desks Iggy had ever seen.
Ms. Schulberger read them the schedule, and they began the regular Monday-morning things, including Weekend Reports by Sarah and Arden. Girls’ weekends were so boring Iggy wondered how they could stand it. He couldn’t even stand hearing about it. He lifted up his lift-up top; he could probably fit the class snake in there. He looked at Arch. Arch was putting his head inside his desk. That was good. Iggy put his head inside his desk too.
“Iggy and Arch. Please listen to Arden!” said Ms. Schulberger.
Okay. Iggy listened. Arden was going to be a flower girl at her cousin’s wedding. Molly had been a flower girl a few months ago. “Aren’t you too old to be flower girl?” yelled Iggy. “Aren’t you supposed to be, like, three?”
“Iggy! Do I need to move your name?” said Ms. Schulberger.
Iggy was surprised. Moving his name meant taking his name tag off Yellow, where everyone was at the beginning of the day, and putting it down to Orange or—no!—even Red. It meant he had done something bad. But what? Was it the yelling?
“Sorry!” he yelled.
Ms. Schulberger sighed.
Okay, if she didn’t want him to talk, he wouldn’t. Arden’s dress had ribbons on it. Big whoop. He looked over at Arch and rolled his eyes. Arch rolled his eyes back. Iggy slumped (quietly!) in his chair and grabbed his throat. Arch hung his tongue out of his mouth. Iggy went stiff, like he had been electrocuted. Arch pretended to fall out of his chair. Then he almost fell out of his chair for real.
But Iggy didn’t notice that last bit, because he had just noticed something else.
When Iggy went stiff and pushed his back against his desk chair with all his weight, the front of the desk rose off the floor.
Huh.
Interesting.
What would happen if . . .
Iggy put his arms under the desk. Okay, good. He could reach. He cradled the bottom of the desk in his arms, kind of like he was holding a baby. Then, slowly, he leaned back. The desk lifted up, so that the only thing touching the floor was the chair-leg part. And of course his feet.
He walked forward, driving the desk.
Arch burst out laughing, and Ms. Schulberger looked up.
“Iggy!” she snapped. Ms. Schulberger, who never snapped. “Come and sit in front where I can see you! Right now. You too, Arch. I can’t believe it’s only nine twelve and I’m moving your names to Orange. Honestly!”
Iggy blushed. He had to sit in front? Like Skyler? Skyler had to sit in front because he had cut off part of Anaya’s dress. That was really bad. Iggy hadn’t done anything like that. How unfair.
He and Arch exchanged looks. He could see that Arch thought it was unfair too.
Skyler laughed.
CHAPTER 14
A LUNCH MEETING
Diego was Iggy’s best friend. After kindergarten, the school had made a rule that Iggy and Diego could never be in the same class again. The school couldn’t stop them from hanging together at lunch, though.
At lunch, Iggy told Diego all about the new old desks, particularly about the way you could drive them if you wanted to. Diego said that was hecka cool and wished he had them in his class.
Arch was sitting nearby. So was Skyler. So was Owen, who was also in Iggy’s class.
Iggy and Arch and Owen and Diego and—sort of—Skyler were famous. They were not famous for being good. Or for being helpful and polite. Or for playing the cello or reading or painting watercolors.
To be honest, they were famous for getting in trouble.
Of course, they were famous for
other things too. Arch was famous for an unbelievably terrible thing that had once happened to him when he went camping. I can’t tell you what it was. Owen was famous for drawing. Iggy was famous for being a fast runner and really good at soccer and for almost falling into a baboon pit. Diego was famous for being really good at soccer and for building things like go-karts with his dad. Skyler wasn’t famous, or if he was, it was for all the stuff that he was probably going to do when he was older, like go to jail.
“Ig and Arch got in trouble for it,” said Owen. (Remember? They were talking about desk driving.) “Puttzi got mad and moved them to Orange.”
Iggy felt this was an unnecessary piece of information to give Diego. “Puttzi’s jealous,” he said. “’Cause her car’s smaller than my desk.” He nodded to himself. “If we raced, I’d win.”
“You’d kill,” said Arch. (By kill, he meant win. Of course.)
Iggy smiled now. “We should have a desk race. When she’s not looking.”
Skyler, who may or may not have had a toothpick in his mouth, said, “Puttzi can be the finish line.”
“Yeah!” Iggy said, laughing. “We can all charge her at once! Like she turns to do something on the board, and we all go right then. Bbrrrrrrmmmm!”
“She’d freak!” said Owen enthusiastically.
“We’d get moved to Red,” warned Arch.
“Who cares?” said Skyler. “It’ll be fun. Iggy and I’ll do it, at least. I’ll beat you, Ig.”
“No you won’t,” said Iggy. “You’ll probably wipe out, knowing you.”
“Psh. Bet I won’t,” said Skyler.
“Bet you will,” said Iggy.
(Did you notice what just happened? If you count up only thirteen lines, charging at Ms. Schulberger with their desks was a funny idea. Now it’s a plan.)
“I bet on Iggy,” said Diego, a loyal friend.
“I bet on me,” said Arch.
“Loser,” said Skyler. He leaned forward. “Okay, so here’s what we do . . .”
CHAPTER 15
BUNDLE UP
It was hard to concentrate that afternoon. Luckily, Iggy didn’t have to concentrate much in math. Math was pretty easy. Bundling, which Ms. Schulberger was teaching that afternoon, was especially easy. Ones, tens, hundreds. Ten ones is the same as one ten. Ten tens is the same as one hundred. What’s not to get?
Something, apparently. Because a lot of people didn’t get it. Some people (like Donal!) never got anything, but even people (like Anaya!) who normally got everything didn’t get bundling.
“Let’s think about money, people,” said Ms. Schulberger. She turned to the whiteboard.
Iggy tensed, but it was only the second time she’d turned. The third time was the starting flag.
Ms. Schulberger faced the class. “When we had ten pennies, we exchanged them for one dime. Right?” She nodded hopefully. “Now, looking at our place-value columns, if you have ten dimes, what can you exchange them for?”
“A hundred pennies!” said Anaya.
Which was true, but not what Ms. Schulberger wanted to hear. Iggy knew what she wanted to hear: Ten dimes are the same as one dollar. Normally, he would have raised his hand, but he couldn’t raise his hand because he had to keep his arms under his desk so he could start desk racing the instant she turned for the third time.
He glanced at Skyler, who was looking at him. Loser, mouthed Skyler.
He glanced at Owen, who was leaning back in his chair. Owen would never win. He was slow.
He glanced at Arch. Arch looked back at him and nodded like, I’m going to beat you.
“. . . also the same as one hundred,” Ms. Schulberger was saying. “So, look, if I bundle my tens into groups of ten, what do they become?” She whirled around to the whiteboard to draw bundles.
“Three!” said Skyler.
“PUTTZI!!” yelled Owen, Arch, and Iggy, zooming forward in their desks. Skyler didn’t yell. He just zoomed.
Ms. Schulberger turned around to see four desks blasting toward her at warp speed.
Iggy charged as fast as he could. He was laughing and driving and making car-squealing sounds. So he only glimpsed Ms. Schulberger’s face in the very last second before he reached her.
And in that very last second, Iggy thought . . .
This was a bad idea.
“AIIEEEEEE!” Ms. Schulberger screamed.
CHAPTER 16
BAD, BAD, BAD
“I’m sorry,” Iggy said for the fiftieth or sixtieth or ninetieth time. He swallowed. “I’m really, really sorry.”
He was saying it to the school secretary. Why the school secretary? Because the principal was in Ms. Schulberger’s class, teaching it. Because Ms. Schulberger had to go home. Because Iggy had (a) run into her knee and (b) scared her and (c) made her cry.
Iggy felt terrible. He had never felt as terrible as he did then. He cried, he felt so terrible. When Ms. Schulberger screamed and he bashed into her because he couldn’t stop and then Owen (who came in second, surprisingly) had crashed into him, making him bash into Ms. Schulberger again, and she had fallen over holding her knee, he had cried. He had started apologizing then, but no one could understand him because he was crying. Also because no one could hear him over all the yelling.
After a minute of everyone yelling, Arden and Cecily ran to get the principal and after that—Iggy couldn’t stand thinking about it—three firefighters came in with their big first aid cases and even—no!—even a stretcher, and then the biggest firefighter said, “How did this happen?” and Lainey, who was the nicest girl in the class, looked at Iggy with hatred and pointed her finger and said, “He did it.”
“I’m sorry!” Iggy cried.
“You should be,” said the biggest firefighter.
Iggy groaned, thinking about it.
And then Iggy was sent to the office, along with Arch and Owen, who were sort of crying, and Skyler, who had never cried in his entire life. Walking there, Iggy was embarrassed that he was crying so much, and a year later, he was more embarrassed about crying in front of everyone than he was about crashing into Puttzi. But ten years later, he thought that crying was probably the only reason he wasn’t expelled from fourth grade.
CHAPTER 17
WHAT HAPPENED TO IGGY ONCE HE GOT HOME
I don’t want to talk about it. All I’m going to say is this: It took a year.
CHAPTER 18
THE END
This is not the end of the book. It’s only the end of Number 3: The thing we wish we had not done at all.
Neither Ms. Schulberger nor Iggy went to school the next day. Ms. Schulberger, because she was resting her knee. Iggy, because he was suspended.
The day after that, Iggy went back. He wished he didn’t have to. He thought about running away to Ketchum, Idaho. Then he thought about his mom and decided not to. He went to school, and everyone looked at him hatingly except for Arch and Owen and Diego, who looked at him sympathetically. And Skyler, who looked at him the way he always did, like he’d never seen him before in his life.
But Ms. Schulberger wasn’t there. She was still resting her knee.
Iggy thought the worst was over.
Iggy was wrong.
The worst was the next day, when Ms. Schulberger came back. She came back with Mr. Schulberger, who was even bigger than the big firefighter and had a long blond ponytail and a beard. He helped Ms. Schulberger into a chair and squeezed her arm. Then he said, “Which one is he?” Ms. Schulberger smiled and shook her head at him.
“Which one of you is Iggy?” asked Mr. Schulberger.
Iggy didn’t raise his hand, but everyone else helpfully pointed at him.
Mr. Schulberger marched like a big blond giant across the classroom to Iggy. He leaned down and said, very softly, in Iggy’s ear, “Don’t ever do that again.”
“
I’m sorry!” said Iggy.
“You should be,” said Mr. Schulberger, just like the firefighter.
“Jack!” said Ms. Schulberger. “Good-bye.” She waved at him. He went away.
Iggy didn’t make a sound all morning. He kept his eyes down and his hands to himself. It almost killed him. When the recess bell went, he jumped to his feet, wanting like crazy to tear out of the room.
But he didn’t. He waited until all the other kids had gone out. Except Arden, who was a kiss-up and always stayed inside until Ms. Schulberger made her leave.
“Off you go, Arden,” said Ms. Schulberger. “Iggy and I are having a talk.”
Arden trailed away, looking hatingly over her shoulder at Iggy.
“I’m sorry,” said Iggy.
Ms. Schulberger nodded.
Iggy opened his lift-top desk and took out the things he had brought. The first was a drawing he had made. It was very embarrassing. It was a flower. Below the flower, it said “Get Well Soon” and “I’m sorry.” The second was a letter. In it, he had written “I’m sorry” a hundred times. Then an equal sign. Then “I’m sorry” in ten groups of ten. He had circled each group and written “bundling” on the side, in case she didn’t get it. The third thing was a bag containing two candy bars he had bought with his own money, plus some other candy left over from Halloween.
He gave all these things to Ms. Schulberger.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Why did you do it, Iggy?” she asked.
“What? The race? I don’t know.”
Ms. Schulberger said nothing, and Iggy thought maybe he should try to explain it better. “I thought it would be funny.”
The Best of Iggy Page 3
