Jake Drake Teacher's Pet Read online

  I looked up, and over by the door I saw Willie standing there—Willie the bad citizen. He made this scared face at me, like maybe he thought I was going to point at him and say, There he is! He’s the table trasher! But I would never do that.

  Mrs. Karp had something in her hand. It was one of those patrol belts, the kind crossing guards wear. She leaned over toward me, and before I could do anything, she looped the strap over my head, pulled the belt around my waist, and hooked it together. It was way too big for me, so it sagged all over. Then she smiled and said, “See this patrol belt?” Which was a stupid question, because the thing is bright orange. It’s impossible not to see it. “This week we’re all going to make a special effort to keep our lunch-room clean. Jake Drake is going to wear this belt during lunch for the rest of the week. That will help to remind all of us not to leave any trash on our tables. And I want everyone to give Jake a nice round of applause for being such a fine lunchroom citizen. Jake, you’ve set a good example for everyone!”

  And then Mrs. Karp started clapping and looking around the cafeteria, so everyone else had to clap too. And I saw Willie, over in the doorway, clapping like mad and grinning at me.

  And once everyone was clapping, what did Mrs. Karp do? She stopped clapping, she reached over, and with all the kids in the third, fourth, and fifth grades watching, she patted me on the head.

  The clapping ended, and after she smiled at me once more, Mrs. Karp walked away. I finished cleaning up the lunch table, and tried not to feel like everyone was looking at me. Which is not easy when you’re wearing a big, floppy, orange patrol belt. I got out of the cafeteria fast.

  Willie was waiting for me in the hallway. He pointed at the orange belt and pretended like it was something amazing. He opened his eyes up real wide and said, “Gee! Can I touch that?”

  I didn’t smile. I walked past him because I had to get back to Mrs. Snavin’s room fast so I could take off the stupid thing and stick it inside my desk.

  Willie caught up and said, “Don’t get mad, Jake. I’m just kidding.”

  “Well, it’s not funny,” I said. I didn’t like what was happening.

  When lunch period was over, all the kids in my class went back to our room and we sat down and got out our math workbooks. Mrs. Snavin waited until all the kids got quiet and sat in their seats. Then she said, “Before we start on math, I need someone to take this note down to the office for me.”

  Right away, about six kids put up their hands, because some kids love to do that kind of stuff. Mrs. Snavin looked right past all those waving hands. She looked right at me and she smiled and said, “I think I’ll have Jake take it.” She held out the note toward me, so I had to get up from my seat, walk to the front of the room, and get it from her. Then Mrs. Snavin said, “But be sure to hurry right back, Jake, because we’re going to work on our number-line project, and you have to be my special computer helper, okay?” And I could feel every kid in the class looking at me. They weren’t saying anything. They weren’t even whispering. But right then, I heard what they were thinking anyway. They were thinking, teacher’s pet.

  And Mrs. Snavin didn’t help. All during the last two hours of the day, she kept asking me to remind her how to do different things on the computer or to go over and help this kid and then help that kid. And the worst part was that nobody really needed help and they didn’t want help, especially from the teacher’s pet. And Mrs. Snavin came and watched me when it was my turn to use the computer, and she said, “It’s so wonderful to see a real expert use this math program!” I thought the day would never end.

  But it did. When I finally ran outside to wait for my bus, I was in a pretty bad mood. And when I was standing in line, a fifth-grade boy went by and said, “Hey, Garbage Guy! I think Mrs. Karp is in love with you!”

  And then all his friends laughed and another kid said, “Yeah—Garbage Guy! Maybe you can clean up my lunch table tomorrow. And do a good job, because you don’t want to make the principal unhappy!”

  Bus number three came and I got on. I sat on the outside edge of a seat so no one could sit with me. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just sat there, staring at the dirty black floor. All around me kids were talking and joking, yelling and laughing. Not me.

  I felt terrible. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t want to be a teacher’s pet. I didn’t try to get anybody’s attention. It wasn’t my fault. I felt like I was trapped.

  I looked up and my stop was next. When the bus stopped, I jumped up and got to the front of the bus. I wanted to be the first one off. I was ready for this day to be over.

  It was real noisy, and the lady driving the bus turned around in her seat and shouted, “Quiet!”

  When everybody stopped yelling and talking, the driver looked around and said, “You kids have got to settle down! It’s not safe to drive when it gets so loud and crazy. You should all be sitting still in your seats, and if you talk at all, you talk quietly, understand? On this whole bus, only one kid has been a good bus rider today—and that’s this kid right here.”

  And with all the kids on the bus watching her, the bus driver reached over and patted me on the head.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Special Treatment

  When I got home that afternoon, I walked right up to my room. I didn’t even get a snack.

  That’s how come my mom followed me. She came into my room and said, “Jake, is everything all right?”

  I didn’t know how to explain. Because if I said to her, “All of my teachers, and even the principal, all think I’m wonderful,” then my mom would say something like, “Well, you are wonderful, Jake!” Because that’s what moms do.

  So I said, “I’m okay, Mom. I just got kind of tired at school today.” Which was true. Having every kid in the school think you’re trying to be the teacher’s pet makes you tired. And being whomped six or seven times by a dodgeball doesn’t help either.

  But after dinner we got to watch this really good TV show about the Coast Guard, and so I stopped thinking about school and I felt better.

  After Dad read a chapter of our book at bedtime, and after he tucked me in and kissed me good night and turned out my light, I couldn’t help thinking about school again. The way I finally got to sleep was by telling myself it was probably just a bad Monday. I told myself that tomorrow, everything would go back to normal. Tomorrow, I would just be a regular kid again. That’s what I told myself, and I hoped it would be true. I wanted it to be true. I needed it to be true. And I went to sleep believing it.

  • • •

  Tuesday’s bus ride to school was great. I was just a kid. Not too loud, not too quiet. The bus driver didn’t even notice I was there, and no one said a word about anything that had happened on Monday. And I said to myself, See? Nothing to worry about.

  But I spoke too soon. The second I walked into her room, Mrs. Snavin said, “Oh, good! You’re here, Jake. I don’t know how I’ll ever survive another day without my special computer helper!” Then she pointed at her computer screen and said, “I’ve got that math program open, and I’m afraid it’s all muddled again. Would you come over here and see if I’ve done this right?” She hadn’t done it right, so I had to fix it for her. And when I was done, Mrs. Snavin said, “Jake, you’ve saved my life again!”

  By that time, almost all the other kids were in the classroom. I could feel them looking at me, and I could tell they were thinking, There’s the teacher’s pet, already hard at work.

  And it really looked that way. Because who did Mrs. Snavin pick to take the attendance sheet down to the office? Me. And during reading period, who did Mrs. Snavin call on first to read out loud? Me. And who did Mrs. Snavin choose to be first in line to go to an assembly in the auditorium? Me.

  Everyone had been looking forward to that assembly for a while. It was this lady who called herself Miss Thumbelina the Storyteller. She had performed at our school before, and she was great. She told stories, but she didn’t just read them. She acted out all the parts all
by herself. She had a bunch of different costumes and hats and beards and wigs, and huge baskets full of things like swords and ropes and lanterns. If there was a castle in a story, then she’d pull a chunk of a castle wall out of a basket and make you believe the whole castle was right there.

  I was glad Miss Thumbelina was performing that Tuesday. It was only ten-thirty, but already I needed a break. I wanted to sit in a huge room in the middle of all the kids from grades three, four, and five. Then the auditorium would get dark, and I could disappear into the crowd and enjoy the show.

  Miss Thumbelina came onto the stage and we all started clapping. She had on this wig with long red hair. She made a low bow, and then she said, “Good morning! I’m going to start our program today with an old, old story. To help me tell this story, I need a helper, someone who’s loyal and true and honest and good, a real knight in shining armor.” And then she held one hand up to her forehead to shade her eyes from the bright lights, and with her other hand she pointed out into the audience.

  And she pointed at a fourth grader sitting right in front of me. “You there!” she said. “You look like a prince to me! Come on up onstage and help me tell this tale!” The kid started to shake his head no, and I felt sorry for him.

  Suddenly Mrs. Snavin was there next to me. She said, “Jake! You’re the perfect one to help her!” And she said it way too loud. She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up out of my seat. When Miss Thumbelina saw me standing up, she clapped her hands and said, “Great! Here comes our prince!”

  Fifteen seconds later I was walking across the stage, blinking like crazy and trying not to trip on the stuff that was everywhere.

  There’s no way to get ready for the worst ten minutes of your life. One minute I was sitting in the dark enjoying the show, and the next minute, I was the show, and this lady in a big wig was sticking a knight’s helmet on my head and strapping plastic armor around my chest. Then she handed me a long sword, which would have been fun to mess with if four hundred kids hadn’t been laughing at me.

  Then Miss Thumbelina put this thing around me that was supposed to be a horse. There was a horse’s head in front and a horse’s rump and tail in back, and there was a place for me in the middle. The whole thing hung from my shoulders by two straps. To make the horse go, I had to run like this: ba-da bum, ba-da bum, ba-da bum.

  As she hooked me into the horse, she said, “Now, here’s all you have to do: Wait behind the curtains, and whenever I say, ‘Someone will save me!’, you come galloping all the way across the stage, right past me. And you wave your sword and yell, ‘I’ll save you, Princess!’ Then you go behind the curtains on the far side and wait there. And when I say that line again, you run out and do the same thing, okay?”

  I nodded and said, “Okay,” because I was already strapped into the costume, and the lady was ready to start. What else could I do?

  I hid behind the curtain and Miss Thumbelina started telling her story. The way the story went, she said, “Someone will save me!” about twenty times. Then this dopey knight would gallop across the stage yelling, “I’ll save you, Princess!”—that was the big joke. That was me. I was the big dopey joke.

  Finally, the story was over. Miss Thumbelina made me and my horse come to the center of the stage. I had to hold her hand and take a bow. Then I galloped over behind the curtain and I got out of that costume in about three seconds.

  I think I set a new record for blushing that day. Even though there was a show up on the stage, every time I looked around, it felt like half the kids in the auditorium were looking at me. So I tried not to notice. And it worked, because after a while I forgot about my terrible time on the stage, and I just watched the rest of the stories like everyone else.

  At the end of the last story, everybody clapped like crazy. It really was a great assembly. All the teachers stood up, and Mrs. Karp walked onto the stage. She held up her hands and the clapping stopped.

  Mrs. Karp said, “I know I speak for everyone when I tell Miss Thumbelina how much we all enjoyed her performance today. Let’s all give her one last round of applause.”

  So we all started clapping and cheering again. Then Mrs. Karp held up her hands again, and the noise stopped, just like turning off a TV.

  Mrs. Karp said, “And before I forget, Jake, would you come back up onstage?”

  The whole auditorium got quiet except for some scattered giggling. I turned bright red and walked up onto the stage. Mrs. Karp motioned for me to come and stand beside her. Then she said, “I think we should also give a nice round of applause to our young man of many talents, our own Jake Drake!” And as she said my name, she reached down and patted me on the head.

  I’m not sure who started it, but I think it was Ben Grumson. Because when the kids started clapping, someone began saying, “Jake Drake, Jake Drake, Jake Drake,” and every kid in the room picked up on it. Four hundred kids started chanting my name.

  Then the strangest thing I’ve ever seen happened. Instead of frowning and stopping the chanting like she could have, Mrs. Karp smiled, and started clapping her hands, and she chanted along with the kids: “Jake Drake, Jake Drake, Jake Drake!”

  I couldn’t believe it. I felt like I was in a movie where aliens had taken over a school and made everyone act completely nuts.

  After all the kids and teachers and Mrs. Karp had chanted my name about fifteen times, it was starting to feel like the roof might blow off the auditorium. Finally, Mrs. Karp held up her hands and right away the noise stopped. Because even in the middle of a riot, no one would ever mess around with Mrs. Karp.

  And then the principal dismissed us to go back to our classrooms and get ready for lunch, like nothing strange had happened at all.

  So I tried to act that way too. I kept my eyes on the floor and went back toward our classroom. And when some kid in the hallway started chanting, “Jake Drake, Jake Drake, Jake Drake,” I didn’t look up. I just kept walking.

  I was so glad to be back in my own classroom. It was going to be so good to go to lunch and sit down in a quiet corner with Willie.

  I opened my desk to get my lunch, and I gasped. A bunch of kids turned to look at me. I must have sounded like I had seen a ghost. Except it was scarier than that for me. Because I had forgotten. There, under my lunch bag, was the most horrible thing I’d ever seen—that bright orange patrol belt!

  I was not going to go have a quiet lunch with my best friend. For the second time in one hour, I was going to put on a costume and get on a stage. This time I wasn’t going to be a knight in shining armor. This time I had to put on a floppy, orange belt and walk into the cafeteria. Because every kid in grades three, four, and five was waiting for me. Everyone was waiting for Garbage Guy.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Dangerous

  I thought about just not wearing the orange patrol belt to lunch. I thought about it for three seconds or so. Then I remembered Mrs. Karp. She would be in the cafeteria too. And she had said I would wear the thing for the rest of the week. I guess she thought wearing the belt was supposed to be an honor. Maybe like having a black belt in karate. Except it wasn’t.

  So I pulled the thing out of my desk. I looped it over one shoulder, hooked it around my waist, grabbed my lunch, and went out into the hall. Right away a group of fourth-grade girls started to point at me and giggle. But I just held my head up high and walked toward the cafeteria. I kept walking, and I said to myself, I can live through this. I know I can. I can do this. And I just pretended that nothing was the matter.

  When I got to the cafeteria, I looked for Willie, but he wasn’t at our regular table. Then I saw him in the milk line. When I went over to say hi, Willie started talking to me like a spy. He kept looking straight ahead and he tried not to move his lips.

  He whispered, “I can’t eat with you today.”

  I whispered back, “How come?”

  He said, “Mrs. Karp. She’ll know it was me.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Willie sa
id, “Me. I left that big mess yesterday.”

  I said, “But I’ll tell her we played Rock, Paper, Scissors, and I lost.”

  Willie shook his head. “Uh-uh. Better not. See you at recess.”

  And maybe Willie was right, because Mrs. Karp was already prowling around the lunchroom. She was on the lookout for trashers.

  So I got some milk and went to find a place to sit. And as I looked around the cafeteria, it felt like there was a big sign at every table, and the sign said, “No Teacher’s Pets Allowed.”

  Even the table where I usually sat with Willie was filled up. There was only one empty table. And there was a reason it was empty: It was the one next to the teachers’ table. Because at our school the teachers get lunch for free. Except it’s not really free. To get a free lunch they have to eat in the cafeteria when their class eats. That was Mrs. Karp’s idea to help keep the lunchroom quieter.

  So I went to the empty table and sat down. Alone. Just me and my orange patrol belt. And I said to myself, I can live through this. I know I can. I can do this.

  I opened up my lunch bag, and that made me feel better right away. My mom had packed chocolate pudding plus Fig Newtons—two desserts! So I wanted to get the rest of my food out of the way fast. I had just taken a huge bite out of a bologna sandwich, when a voice behind me said, “Is this seat taken? The teachers’ table is too crowded today.”

  It was Miss Cott, my art teacher. And before I could chew or swallow or say a word, she sat down right next to me, ripped the lid off a Tupperware tub, and started eating a salad that smelled like rotten eggs and onions. And she sat there. Next to me. When she wasn’t jamming salad into her mouth, she was smiling at me and chatting away—like she was my best friend or something.