The unique lou fox, p.8
The Unique Lou Fox, page 8
Slowly, I calmed down. We snuggled past the morning bell at school. We snuggled until my jealous rage wore itself out. Jealousy, that’s the feeling I couldn’t name. I despised it as much as I despised English class. Maybe more.
Mom and Dad walked me to school. It was like being little again. I loved it.
“Louisa, remember. We could have two hundred babies, and we’d still love you.” Mom squeezed my hand.
“Although we’d need a much bigger house for that many kids,” Dad said.
“Oh, Paul.” She shook her head. “Louisa, what Dad and I are trying to say is that as parents we have endless love. It’s just how we’re made.”
“I know.” I stared at the pavement. “I just felt…you know…jealous.”
Being jealous is not a wonderful feeling. It’s mis-er-a-ble, in fact. A five-dollar-word for sure, and miserable is sad times a million, and jealousy churns in your tummy making you feel sick. Apparently it can send a person into an angry rage. I wanted nothing more to do with jealousy.
“We know.” Dad kissed the top of my head. “Anything else you want to talk about before we go inside?”
I hesitated. I really hoped they hadn’t heard me say that stuff about the babies—about wishing Mom had never gotten pregnant. If they had, surely they would have mentioned it. And what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. Or me. “No, I’m good.”
We entered the school and went straight to the office. Mrs. Muswagam stood behind the counter talking to the secretary. The moment she saw us, she smiled right up to her eyes. “Louisa, we were getting worried about you. You’re never late.”
“Our fault,” Dad said. “Cross my heart, we’ll unlock her cage earlier tomorrow.”
“Dad!” Sometimes he was silly at the wrong times.
Mrs. Muswagam laughed. “I see where Louisa gets her sense of humor.”
Dad and Mom each gave me a hug. “I’ll see you after school,” Mom whispered in my ear. “Remember what we said. We’ve enough love for two hundred babies.”
“See you tonight, Louisa.” Dad put his arm around Mom’s waist, guiding her out of the office.
“Louisa,” Mrs. Muswagam said. “Before you head to class, I need to talk to you.”
“Oh, okay.” I followed her into her office.
“It’s about something Mrs. Snyder shared with me.”
My shoulders slumped. I hadn’t even seen my teacher yet, and I was already in trouble. Mrs. Snyder was the sneakiest of Shadow Phantoms. I sat completely still on the swivel chair and waited, my lips clamped shut.
“Mrs. Snyder wanted to talk to you herself, but she’s away sick today and will likely be gone for the rest of the week. Fingers crossed she’ll be back next week.”
My head popped up. Two days Shadow Phantom free—and possibly a week! I’d wished her away and poof! Gone.
Poof.
That meant that I wouldn’t have to concentrate on not getting in trouble all day long until my brain felt like it would explode.
“Mrs. Snyder organized the next professional development day for all the teachers,” Mrs. Muswagam said.
I tried hard to keep listening, but all I could think about was how awesome the rest of the week would be. I knew Mr. Diaz couldn’t be our substitute teacher, but maybe it would be someone like him—someone who wouldn’t make me miss recess. Someone who wasn’t watching my every move. Someone who wasn’t a Shadow Phantom with evil wrinkly winks—
“Louisa?” Mrs. Muswagam broke through my thoughts of a Mr. Diaz-style teacher. “Did you hear anything I just said?”
I shook my head. I’d drifted bigger than big.
“Mrs. Snyder is quite ill, but even so, she wanted you—”
The door pushed open. It was the secretary. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but it’s a parent, and it’s urgent.”
“All right, we’ll talk later, Louisa. The substitute teacher will be waiting for you.”
I couldn’t help myself. I smiled.
Mrs. Muswagam tilted her head. “Something funny?”
“Nope. Not a thing.” Which was not a lie. I was ec-stat-ic—the perfect five-dollar-word for extreme joy. For all it mattered to me, Mrs. Snyder could stay away forever.
Chapter 21
Freckle Dipper
As soon as I was out of sight of the office, I raced down the hallway and whizzed by the fourth-grade class. The teacher shouted after me, “Walking! No running!”
I slowed to an incredibly speedy fast-walk, eager to get to class. Eager. Me! Louisa Elizabeth Fitzhenry-O’Shaughnessy couldn’t wait to get to class. I’m not going to lie. Eager felt amazing—as amazing as when you’ve finished a floor routine in gymnastics. You’ve landed your last front flip—your arms up are up high, and your face is one gi-nor-mous smile. Eager for me felt a whole lot like that. Only better. I couldn’t help myself. I entered the classroom and drawled, cowboy-style, “Howdy pardners.”
A woman stopped writing on the whiteboard and turned to me.
“Sorry, to be tardy, Ma’am.” I tipped an imaginary hat at the substitute teacher.
“You must be Louisa Elizabeth,” she replied.
“The one and only, but you can call me Lou.” I did a fancy bow like actors do at the end of a play.
Everyone giggled.
“And I’m the one and only Miss Tesoro.” She slid her navy-blue blazer off and draped it across the back of Mrs. Snyder’s chair. “You’re just as I expected.”
“Oh.” Just as she expected? I didn’t have a clue what that meant.
“Please take your seat. Lateness is no excuse for falling behind your classmates.” She smiled again. Her white teeth glistened. That’s when
I noticed something that made my stomach lurch. Even though her cheeks dimpled, her smile did not reach her eyes.
With my head down, I scurried to my seat.
“Louisa Elizabeth, the class is journaling until morning recess. I’ve written today’s topic on the board.”
“It’s Lou,” I mumbled, glancing at the whiteboard. Black printing covered nearly every square inch. Only a tiny white border remained. “That’s the whole topic? It’s so long.”
“Yes. It is,” replied Miss Tesoro. She raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrows, tapping the whiteboard marker on her hand. “Time to get started.”
I reached into my desk and grabbed my journal.
“Psst. Lou,” Nakessa tapped me on the shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I turned in my seat. “Yeah.”
Nakessa frowned at me “You’re late. You’re never late,” she whispered. You could’ve fit a second Nakessa in her dad’s massive Jets hockey hoody. She’d rolled the sleeves up so many times, the cuffs looked like wrist bands.
“I had a bumpy morning. I—”
“Girls, talking is not working. Louisa Elizabeth, get to work. Keep your eyes on your own journal. Focus, Louisa Elizabeth.”
Louisa Elizabeth. Louisa Elizabeth. Louisa Elizabeth.
Was Miss Tesoro a Shadow Phantom in training? I paged through my journal to the farm scene. Dad looked happy sitting on the tractor. He’d probably just tooted. I giggled and glanced up at Miss Tesoro, Trainee Shadow Phantom. She tucked a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear, then pushed her glasses farther up her nose. Thankfully, she seemed too busy reading a sheet of paper at Mrs. Snyder’s desk for my giggle to catch her attention.
I pulled out a black marker and outlined the tractor wheels. Then something Mrs. Snyder had said the other day popped right into my mind. It was from the day when I put my More-Lexie-Less-Lou plan into action.
Start the day as you mean to carry on. Put your best foot forward.
I looked at Lexie. She was deep in journal mode. She wasn’t outlining a sketch that she wasn’t supposed to have drawn in the first place. Sighing, I put the marker down and flipped the page. Squinting at the board, I began reading the first line under my breath, “In your own words, de..scribe…” Then the words squiggled. I tried to keep reading, but the sentence made zero sense. I would’ve just asked Miss Tesoro, but her eyes didn’t smile, which made her sort of scary and made me too nervous to raise my hand.
My left arm rested across one side of the journal. I stared at the freckles on it. Most were a pale ginger brown, but a few were milk chocolatey-colored. I tilted my head. It was as if—
There was a pattern in my freckles!
If I only looked at the darker ones, I could totally see the Big Dipper. Just like on my bedroom ceiling. Who knew my arm held a secret map of the cosmos? I grabbed my black pen. Carefully, so I didn’t smudge, I pressed down on the darker freckles. Now it was easier to see the gentle slope of the handle, right into the Big Dipper’s scoop at the end.
“Pssst. Lou,” Lexie whispered.
I jumped. My pen slid down my arm. “Geez, Lexie.” I whispered back. “You scared me to death.”
“What’re you doing?”
I twisted my forearm so she could see. “The constellations of course.” I pointed to the long dash. “And thanks to you, Halley's Comet.”
Lexie giggled. “Show Nakessa.”
I looked back at Nakessa, lifting my arm. Nakessa’s eyes got wide, she covered her mouth. It didn’t stop the deep rumble in her throat.
Oh. No.
Silence.
I counted. One, two, three—
“Haaack!”
She laugh-barked.
That’s when the Bendables got sent to the office.
Chapter 22
Note to Self:
Listen to Talking Eyeballs
“I miss Mrs. Snyder,” Lexie said as we slowly made our way to the office.
“Me too. Mrs. Snyder gives second chances.” Nakessa’s eyes were red. I could tell she was trying not to cry.
“Are you kidding?” I said. “My wish came true.”
“What do you mean?” Lexie asked.
“About Mrs. Snyder, not coming back to school.”
Nakessa stopped walking. “You wished she’d get sick?”
“No, not sick. I just wanted her to go away.”
“Wasn’t it your grandma who said to be careful what you wish for?” Lexie asked.
“Yeah, but it’s just wishing, it doesn’t mean anything. Grammers is superstitious.”
Lexie shrugged. “I guess, but don’t you think wishing bad things on other people will bring you bad luck?”
“Luck doesn’t exist. That’s another silly superstition. You aren’t superstitious are you, Nakessa?”
“I wouldn’t want to walk under a ladder or break a mirror—stuff like that.”
“What about wishes?”
“I’d listen to Lexie and your grandma. Be careful what you wish for.”
* * *
The secretary sent us straight into Mrs. Muswagam’s office, with me in the lead. I peeked back at Lexie and Nakessa who hovered by the door. Lexie tugged on her ear. Nakessa’s normally tawny face paled. She breathed so heavily she sounded like Darth Vader. I’d never heard her sound like that before. She stepped behind Lexie. I was about to say something about space movies, but at that very second Mrs. Muswagam raised her head. She didn’t look happy. She’d never looked so serious. Uh-oh.
“Girls.” Mrs. Muswagam’s voice was as soft and gentle as ever. “Tell me why you’re here.”
I shrugged. “I think—”
Nakessa jumped out from behind Lexie. Her eyes were huge. “We interrupted the class! We were wrong! Please don’t call our parents.”
“Do you all feel this way?”
“Yes.” Lexie nodded, her voice whisper-quiet.
Mrs. Muswagam turned her attention to me. “And Lou? What about you?”
“I ah…”
Lexie’s ear tugging stole my attention from the principal. I glanced over. If Nakessa’s eyes were huge, Lexie’s were moon-size. If her eyes could speak, they’d be shouting: “Don’t talk back. No sass!”
Unfortunately, I ignored their warning. “What happened to second chances?” The moment I spoke, I knew I should’ve listened to Lexie’s eyeballs and kept quiet.
Mrs. Muswagam sighed. “Okay.” She turned to my friends. “You two can head back to class. You owe Miss Tesoro an apology. She’s new to our school and disruptive behavior is not the first impression we should give her.”
Nakessa’s breath whooshed out. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Lexie nodded like a bobble-head doll. “We’ll apologize—we promise.”
As my friends left the room, Lexie looked back. She tugged her ear one final time, before disappearing from view.
“Now, Lou,” Mrs. Muswagam said. “Please sit.”
I slunk into my usual chair, no desire to spin. “Are you going to yell at me?”
She smiled. “Do I seem like a yelling sort of person?”
I tilted my head, thinking about all the times we’d talked. Well, not all the times because there were too many to count. And math and I are not great pals, so…
“Louisa?”
“No.”
“Good, because I try very hard not to yell at students. Now, please tell me what happened in class.”
“Well, I…I…” What did happen? It was kind of a jumble. “First, I got to the room late. When I sat at my desk, I looked at the board and the assignment and…I didn’t really understand what we were supposed to do. I would’ve asked Miss Tesoro, but she made me nervous, so I started looking at my journal and then…” I held up my arm to show Mrs. Muswagam the Big Dipper and Halley's Comet. “…I got sidetracked by my freckles.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Muswagam covered her mouth and coughed. “I’ll talk to Miss Tesoro and let her know that you may need to ask for clarification with assignments. Next time, just ask for help.”
She made it sound so easy.
“I need to share something else with you,” Mrs. Muswagam said. She walked over to the meeting table. In her hand was a thick pink file folder. Along the side tab my name was written in thin black marker. She sat opposite me in one of the swivel chairs. “Of all the students in your class, Louisa, you’re the one Mrs. Snyder never tires of talking about.”
I bet. I slumped in the chair, groaning. “Great.”
“You’re correct. It is great. Really great.”
I shot upright.
“I thought that would get your attention.” Mrs. Muswagam pulled a page out of the file. She placed it on the table, turning it to face me.
“Hey, that’s my sketch of the schoolyard. I did that the first week of school.” I couldn’t believe Mrs. Snyder had kept it.
“I know. It’s breathtaking.”
Breathtaking? Only Mom talked about my drawings like that. I blushed. “I guess.”
“Mrs. Snyder says you’re the most creative student she’s ever taught. In fact, she said that if creativity had a middle name, it would be Louisa. I agree with her assessment of you. You simply ooze imagination.”
Ooze imagination? My jaw dropped. I bet at that moment I looked like a spitting image of Velma, the basset hound. Only a whole lot less slobbery.
“Does that surprise you?” Mrs. Muswagam’s dark eyes twinkled.
“Totally.”
Mrs. Muswagam’s face suddenly went serious. She didn’t frown exactly, but her smile flattened. “But she’s also really worried.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Snyder was still out to get me. It was impossible for her to say anything one hundred percent nice about me. Wishing for anything different was like a hound dog wishing to be—
“Yes, she’s worried that she’s failing you.” Mrs. Muswagam’s words karate chopped through my thoughts.
“What’s that now, Ma’am?” I was so shocked I slipped into Southern Carolina talk without thinking.
“Oh, Louisa you are too much.” She laughed. “Mrs. Snyder knew she didn’t understand dyslexia or ADHD enough to help you properly. That really bothered her, so she’s arranged for an educational psychologist to speak at the upcoming teachers’ professional development day.”
“She did that for me?”
“Yes. Mrs. Snyder takes her job very seriously.”
“Oh.”
“And even though she’s as sick as a dog, I know she’ll try hard to make it to the session on Friday. Helping you is all she’s talked about since September.”
“Really?”
Mrs. Muswagam nodded. She tilted her head, watching me. This was impossible. Mrs. Snyder hated me.
“I thought…I thought…” I shook my head, my brainpower slowing to molasses. Which is officially slower than a snail trudging through chunky peanut butter. How had I been so wrong about my teacher? For two months, I’d been all she talked about—in a good way.
Mrs. Muswagam’s gentle voice was even softer than usual. “Ahh. You thought she was being too hard on you.”
My head jerked. I examined Mrs. Muswagam. She said she wasn’t a mind reader, but I wasn’t so sure about that. “How did you know?”
“You’re a lot like me when I was in school. I had a teacher whom I thought was too hard—mean even. But she only wanted me to be a better student than I thought I was. It sure didn’t feel like it at the time, though.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, then looked back at Mrs. Muswagam. “Are you dyslexic, too? Do you have ADHD?” I wasn’t sure I was allowed to ask the principal that, but I needed to know how she understood me so well.
“No, I just didn’t have much self-confidence.
I didn’t think I was as smart as everyone else.”
“But you’re a principal.”
Mrs. Muswagam laughed. “I wasn’t always.”
“No, I guess not.” I smiled, then my smile turned into a giggle, and soon we were laughing together. A kid principal. The very idea was ri-dic-u-lous.
