The unique lou fox, p.2
The Unique Lou Fox, page 2
I flipped over my test. Four out of ten. Not the worst I’ve done. Everyone was busily printing out the words they’d missed. I glanced out the window. Puffy, whipped-cream clouds floated across the blue sky. Our oak tree swayed in the breeze. I closed my eyes. I swear I felt that breeze on my face.
My eyes popped open to glance up at the clock. Six minutes until the recess bell. Forever. I doodled my name all over my paper.
Louisa Elizabeth
Fitzhenry-O’Shaughnessy
A thirty-six-letter name is a curse for someone who can’t spell and finds reading next to impossible. Being dyslexic is no joke. Nor is the word dyslexic for someone who is.
I looked back at our oak tree. I should not have done that. That was the day’s first mistake. I should have kept my eyes firmly on my paper, but when I begin to wonder about something, it’s almost impossible to stop my brain from drifting away. And when I stared at our tree, I began to wonder if I could climb it to the very top. Even though I’m exceedingly athletic, I’d still need help. Nakessa’s way taller than me. She could boost me up, lickety-split. I smiled as I drifted into my imagination. I could see Nakessa swooping her thick braids up into a floppy bun. Imaginary me stepped into her cupped hands. We wobbled around a bunch, laughing. Imaginary Lexie marched over and made us take deep breaths and focus. Once Nakessa and I were steady, I leapt into the air, backflipping—
“Louisa, can you hear me?” Mrs. Snyder’s nasally voice interrupted my backflip. Instead of grabbing the next tree limb, imaginary me landed in a heap. Then in a poof, the three imaginary Bendables disappeared.
I blinked and blinked again. Mrs. Snyder was right in front of my desk. Even by Shadow Phantom standards, she was impressively stealthy.
“Yes, Mrs. Snyder,” I replied. “I can hear you.” Heat rushed up my neck. It wasn’t a lie—technically. I could hear her, but I knew that’s not what she meant. This wasn’t the first time I’d daydreamed in class. If being dyslexic was my superpower, having ADHD on top of that made me a mega-superhero.
“What did I just say?” Mrs. Snyder crossed her arms and peered at me over her glasses again. She didn’t blink, which was unnerving. Probably part of her Shadow Phantom training.
“Uhm…” I glanced over at Lexie.
Lexie’s gaze flashed to my paper and back up.
“My test,” I said. “You want me to…look…at it?”
Mrs. Snyder sighed. “Yes, Louisa. In fact, I’d like you to look at it during recess.”
“Wh-what?” I dragged my eyeballs away from Mrs. Snyder and over to Lexie. “Not recess.”
Lexie’s brown eyes locked on me.
“But-but Lexie and Nakessa…we’re working on our new play, The Haunting at Lakeside School. It’s going to be—”
Brrrriiinng!
Saved by the bell! I pushed away from my desk.
“No, Louisa. Sit back down.” Shadow Phantom turned her back to me and faced the rest of the class. “All right, grade five. Before you race outside, I need to remind you of the upcoming talent show. It’s in less than two weeks. The sign-up sheets are still on the bulletin board outside the gym. Spots are filling fast, so if you want to take part, don’t leave it any longer.” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her forehead. “Okay! Time for recess. Please remember only grades three and four on the play structure today.”
Like a plucked dandelion, I wilted onto my desk. My cheek pressed onto the cool wood. Through sandy-brown strands of hair I watched everyone race from the room. Lexie slowed at the doorway. She waved her homemade Harry Potter wand at me and gave me a small smile before Nakessa appeared behind her and tugged on her arm.
“Louisa,” Mrs. Snyder said, drawing my attention to her. “Your test.”
I glanced at the doorway. My friends had left. Soon they’d be acting out the play and eating English candy. Without me.
Mrs. Snyder tapped my test with a red ballpoint pen. “I’ve put the correct spelling by each misspelled word to help you out. Write each one three times. Lock it in your brain.” She put her fingers to the side of her head. She pretended to turn a key while making a clicking sound. “Then use the word in a sentence.”
If only it were that easy. “That’s exactly what I did with my mom. All weekend.”
“I know it isn’t easy for you, Louisa.”
Rub it in, why don’t you! “It’s impossible,” I muttered.
“Pardon me?”
“Nothing.” I glared at my paper.
“Just take your time. No need to rush—and no replacing the spelling words this time when you write your sentences. Stick to the words on the list. You have a vast spoken vocabulary, Louisa. I’d like to see those big words on the written page.”
I peered up through my eyelashes. Shadow Phantom glided across the room and sat at her desk. A cough rumbled in her chest. She glanced at me. “Go on. Get started.”
I really had studied all weekend. Every time Mom tested me, I got four words wrong, which was frustrating enough, but they were never the same four words. I gritted my teeth. It was more than frustrating. It made me so, so…angry!
Hot fury bubbled in my chest. It expanded, oozing throughout my entire body. I felt like I might explode. In fact, I wanted to. I pressed down on my pencil. The lead snapped.
“Good,” I murmured, as the flames of fury flickered out. I stared at the first word I had missed. I couldn’t believe it. Frustrating. I had misspelled frustrating. That was literally ironic.
I grabbed two new pencils from my desk, just in case I rage-broke another. I printed each letter in the word frustrating, then checked and double checked that I’d put them in the right order.
Being hopeless at spelling words is totally frustrating because I am really good at knowing what they mean. Mom says ever since I could talk, I’ve been a collector of words. She says I’m a wordsmith. I can talk the talk, but no way can I spell the spell.
The point is, the most frustrating thing about frustrating is that I know the dictionary definition by heart: causing annoyance or upset because of an inability to change or achieve something.
And I really, really know about being unable to achieve something. Like a lot.
Chapter 4
Five-dollar Words
When I had to write out sentences on my test, I ditched the word frustrating, which is a five-dollar word. That’s what Mom calls big words. She says they’re worth more in a sentence. She says a lot of weird stuff like that. On my test, I had replaced those ginormous words and filled the paper with ten-cent words. Grade two words. Words I could mostly spell.
I glanced at what I had written.
Speling is buging ME.
I had drawn myself being attacked by the alphabet. Letter s had wrapped itself around my legs. O circled my head and covered my eyes, while u and v clamped onto my hands. Cartoon me was a pretty close likeness to real me. Drawing. Another thing I’m good at that Shadow Phantom doesn’t appreciate.
Mrs. Snyder had written in large red letters, Not funny. Oh. And she had corrected my spelling with that same annoying red pen.
Who wouldn’t want to scream? Giving up, however, is much easier. My inner scream melted, like ice cream on a scorching July day. July. My favorite month when I can spend every single day outside….
My gaze drifted to the window. It skipped over the kids playing on the tarmac, to the play structure behind, finally resting on our tall oak tree. My friends were sitting beneath its branches. Lexie gathered up a heaping armful of fall leaves and threw them in the air over Nakessa’s head. An ache deep in my chest thrummed to life. They were having sooooo much fun. If only I—
“Louisa!” The Shadow Phantom snapped. “Stay on task.”
Caught daydreaming. For the million-zillionth time. My eyes returned to my test. Maybe I shouldn’t have doodled my name all over the paper. A thirty-six-letter name sure didn’t leave much room for corrections. Mom should have named me something simple, like Lou Fox, which is my dream name. I’m ditching my thirty-six letters for those easy six letters as soon as I turn eighteen.
Until then, I’m stuck with being named after my great-grandma, Louisa, who Mom thinks I look like. This is pre-pos-ter-ous, a five-dollar word meaning absolutely absurd. In this case it’s also laughable, since the only picture we have of her is an old black-and-white photo of the back of her head. Apparently, Mom can sense our spiritual connection.
Weird. My mother has alternative views about everything. But she might be right about me and Great-grandma Louisa. Apparently, ancient Louisa had as much use for school as me, but back in her day it was okay to quit in sixth grade. Which means, if I’d lived in the olden times, I’d only have had to slog through one more year of torture. Then I would have been free to do whatever I wanted: write plays imagining brand-new worlds, or join a traveling Cirque du Soleil troupe—my backup plan in case my plays flop on Broadway. Cirque du Soleil is always looking for extra-bendy people like me. I made this observation to my parents over the summer holidays. They both laughed, and Dad tousled my hair, calling me his number one comedian.
Apparently, it’s illegal these days to be an elementary school dropout. In the meantime, I’ll just have to keep working on my plays and cartwheels...and putting up with Mrs. Snyder.
Chapter 5
Mistakes.
So Many Mistakes.
Laughter echoed from the hallway and tore me from my work. Okay, that is a huge exaggeration. A tiny ant whispering “Hey, Lou. Drop your pencil!” could have torn my attention away from spelling.
Oh. Speaking of baby ants, maybe we could work those into our play!
Within seconds of the baby-ant distraction the recess bell rang, and Lexie and Nakessa sped into the classroom seconds ahead of the others.
“Lou!” Lexie called, as she raced around the desks. “We missed you!”
“Lou, Lou, we missed you,” sang Nakessa. “There’s no one in the world like…youuuu!” If it was up to her, all our plays would be musicals. Even our current ghost story.
Whoever heard of singing ghosts? Although singing ants might work. “Aw, you guys.” I laughed. Then I remembered the English candy. My laughter stopped. “Did you eat all the candy?”
Lexie plunked a smallish, pink-and-white striped paper bag on her desk. “No way. We didn’t have one single piece. Candy can wait until lunch.”
All my jealousy slipped away. I might be academically challenged, but when it came to friends, I was gifted.
“There’s no way Mrs. Snyder will keep you over lunch too,” Nakessa whispered. “She’s not actually mean. She just wants you to do well.”
I wish I had Nakessa’s positive attitude about our teacher, but I wasn’t one of Grammers’ hound dogs wishing to be an eagle. “I dunno,” I said. “I’m pretty sure Mrs. Snyder hates me to my bones.”
“Aw, she doesn’t hate you, Lou-ba-doo.” Lexie sank into her chair. “Nobody could hate you.”
Nakessa grabbed my pencils and began to rap a funky rhythm on my desk.
“All right, class. Take your seats,” called Mrs. Snyder. She glared at me, her eyeballs burning a hole in my forehead. “Louisa, are you distracting your friends?”
“Wh-who? Me?” I looked up at Nakessa.
Nakessa’s cheeks flushed pink. She waved the pencils in the air. “It was m—”
“I’m sure you don’t want to spend lunch with me, do you Louisa?” Mrs. Snyder said, as if Nakessa had turned invisible.
No way was I going to miss lunch with my friends. I stood up. “I didn’t do any—”
“Lou,” Lexie whispered, cutting me off. “Don’t argue. You’ll make it worse.” She tugged on her ear. She only did that when she was nervous or worried.
I plunked onto my chair.
“Well, Louisa?” Mrs. Snyder coughed into a tissue. “Are we spending lunchtime together?
“No, Mrs. Snyder.” My voice trembled. Not only did I not want to spend lunch with her, I wished I never, ever had to spend another second with her. I wished she would just disappear. Poof! Like one of my daydreams that she kept ruining.
“I didn’t think so. It’s too nice a day to be inside,” Mrs. Snyder said with a self-satisfied smirk. “Now class, let’s move on to math.”
Math. I groaned. Great. This was the worst day ever.
“Missing lunch.” I muttered so quietly even teensy singing ants wouldn’t have heard me. Wasn’t that some sort of human rights violation? I mean, how could anyone go all day without eating? Thinking about missing a meal made my stomach growl in protest.
I sighed and stared out the window again, which I now know I should not have done. That was my second mistake of the day. Charcoal-gray clouds had begun to glide across the sky. A gust of wind whipped the branches of our oak tree, scattering leaves. Another gust, far stronger, rattled the window. Huh. The sunny fall day had vanished. “A storm’s coming!” Uh-oh. I turned to Lexie. “Did I just say that out loud?” I whispered.
“Very loud,” she whispered back.
“Louisa!” Mrs. Snyder snapped. “I think it’s time you took a walk to the principal’s office. I’ll buzz down.”
My eyes jerked to the front of the room. Mrs. Snyder shook her head at me, frowning her face into a spider web of wrinkles. She had warped herself into a human storm in no time flat. As she moved toward the intercom, the unfairness of being sent to the office, swept over me. “A storm is coming.”
I shouldn’t have uttered one word. Lexie had already warned me not to argue with Mrs. Snyder. That was my third mistake of the day.
Mrs. Snyder put her hands on her hips. “Louisa—”
“You’ll be thanking me if my warning saves you all from being ripped apart in a tornado.” Go big or go home. That’s what Grammers always says. I chose big.
Bad choice. And my fourth mistake of the day.
“Do those look like tornado clouds to you?” she shouted.
Whispers filled the room.
“Maybe,” I said. Which wasn’t a total lie, since I had no clue what tornado clouds looked like.
“Louisa!” Mrs. Snyder’s voice rose even higher. “Those are not tornado clouds.” She coughed, grabbed her water bottle from her desk, and took a long sip. “Children, they are just—” Her voice cracked. She took another sip. “—regular rain clouds.”
“Are you sure?” Big Jack asked, standing. He glanced over to the door. “A twister ripped the roof off my cousin’s barn last summer.”
Mrs. Snyder cleared her throat. “Jack, we’re not on a farm in the open prairie. Very few tornados have hit Winnipeg.”
“Very few?” Sophia Wabash cupped her hands above her eyes and pressed her face against the glass.
“Does that mean some have?” asked Little Jack.
“How many are very few, do you think?” Big Jack’s face paled. “Five or six…or more?”
“Class. That’s enough,” Mrs. Snyder said, her voice now very calm and very low—all serious-teacher-business sounding. “Louisa. To. The. Office.”
I got up from my chair and slunk to the door.
“Ooooh. She’s in trouble,” somebody whispered.
A few kids started laughing. Quickly the giggles turned to a chorus that filled the classroom. They were laughing at me. Heat rushed up my neck. When my hand touched the cool metal doorknob it was like a match igniting. The embers of fury that had raged against my spelling test flared.
“That’s quite enough class,” Mrs. Snyder said. “Now off you go, Louisa. To the office. Principal Muswagam will be waiting for you.”
“Ooooh. The principal,” someone taunted.
This time I was pretty sure the voice belonged to Big Jack, but I couldn’t think straight, because that fury in my chest exploded in a huge ball of flames. That’s the exact moment I made the fifth and worst mistake of the day. I spun to face Mrs. Snyder.
“I hate you!” My throat tightened. Tears gushed from my eyes like water from a faucet. “I wish—I wish you were dead!”
Mrs. Snyder’s eyes widened. A cough, long and dry, erupted from her chest.
A sob tumbled from my mouth. I swallowed the next one as I yanked the door open.
“Louisa!” Mrs. Snyder cried out after me.
I tore down the hallway and raced past the library, skidding around the corner. Beyond the school office. Out the front door.
Chapter 6
U-nique
As I raced down the steps a gust of wind whipped my hair across my face. I swiped it away with my arm and stumbled to a stop. Tears cooled on my cheeks. I didn’t know where to go. If I went around the building to the playground, everyone would see me. No way.
I needed a moment to clear my head—to calm down. I considered the clump of nearly bare trees that surrounded the teachers’ picnic tables. That would have to do. I dried my face with my shirtsleeve as I stomped across the grass. I slid to the ground, resting my back against the largest of the three trees. It wasn’t big like our oak tree out back, but it would do. Mean Mrs. Snyder would never let me go out for recess again. Not after—
I cringed. I’d told her I wished she were dead! I was in big, big trouble. Again. I hugged my legs tight to my chest, rested my head on my knees, and closed my eyes. If only Mrs. Snyder wasn’t so horrible. Who wouldn’t blow their top if they were tormented by a teacher? If only she’d listened to me…or Nakessa!
“Louisa?”
I knew that voice well. Principal Muswagam. We’d spent a lot of time together this year. A teensy, tiny groan passed my lips. What can I say? I’m a professional groaner. “Yes, it’s me,” I replied, keeping my eyes closed. “The one and only.” If only I had Lexie’s homemade wand, I could magically zap myself into another universe.
