Nikki and Deja Read online

  Deja found her in a stall with wet clothes. Poor Beverly had to be escorted (with Deja’s jacket tied around her waist) to the nurse’s office, where her mother had to be called to bring dry clothes. It was a secret between Deja and Ms. Shelby-Ortiz and Beverly. Deja felt special having that secret. Of course, she eventually broke down and told Nikki, but only after swearing her to secrecy.

  “I don’t like the way the class is acting,” Deja says to Nikki as they leave the lunch table to walk toward the tetherball courts—Room Ten’s area for the week.

  “Me, neither,” Nikki agrees. “They would never do that kind of stuff if Ms. Shelby-Ortiz was here.”

  “I’m going to tell her,” Deja says. “I’m going to tell her about all the kids who were acting bad and all the things they did while she was gone.” She looks over at Nikki. “Let’s keep a record. We can use our morning journals, since we have to write in them every morning.”

  Suddenly, Nikki gasps and puts her hand over her mouth. “We didn’t do our morning journals!”

  “We’ll have to remind Mr. Willow about our morning journals tomorrow,” Deja says.

  The afternoon is worse than the morning. During silent reading, Carlos throws a spitball at the back of Beverly’s head. It lands on her desk.

  “Yuck!” Beverly screams, and jumps up out of her chair.

  Mr. Willow, who’s writing something on the board, turns quickly. His eyes dart around, but Carlos is back to looking innocent, staring down at his open book.

  “Someone threw a spitball at me!” Beverly cries. She glares down at it as if it’s the grossest thing she’s ever seen.

  “Who did that?” Mr. Willow asks. Deja hears a bit of a shaky tone in his voice.

  No one speaks. Mr. Willow looks around the room. Finally, he goes back to putting sentences on the board.

  Then, as Deja knew he would, Richard works on his own spitball and shoots it at Beverly. It lands in her hair.

  She grabs the back of her head, pulls out the spitball, then screams as she throws it down.

  “Ewww,” she yells. “Eww, eww, eww!” She looks as if she’s going to cry.

  The whole class begins to laugh loudly.

  Deja suppresses her own laughter. It is funny watching Beverly jump around.

  “Class!” Mr. Willow says, his face growing red and his voice only slightly raised. “If this doesn’t stop, we . . . I . . . I . . . we might not be able to have Physical Education, P.E., today!”

  Only a few kids calm down. The Knucklehead Club ignores him. They keep up the loud laughter.

  “Whoever threw that . . . that spitball . . .”

  More laughter starts up.

  “I want them to stop and—and put that thing in the trash!”

  “I have to wash my hands!” Beverly cries. “I have to wash my hands!”

  “Yes, go,” Mr. Willow says. “You have my permission.” He looks around the class. “I want no more of that spitball throwing.”

  The laughter gets louder and Mr. Willow gets redder. “Or there’ll be no—no P.E.”

  Again the laughter dies down a little bit, but some kids keep it going.

  If only Ms. Shelby-Ortiz could see them now, Deja thinks.

  The horsing around never completely stops. A coughing chorus starts up after P.E., led by Richard. He coughs, and when he stops, another kid takes it up, and then another kid and another, until finally Mr. Willow looks up suspiciously from correcting papers. The kickball game during P.E. is a fiasco too. There is lots of arguing over who’s going to roll the ball for the kicker and over whether someone is out or not. It is a mess.

  Dismissal is horrible. The bell rings and there’s a rush to the door. Mr. Willow looks at the crush helplessly and seems to throw up his hands. He walks over, opens the door, and lets everyone out.

  “Ms. Shelby-Ortiz would never have let the class out,” Deja complains to Nikki as they walk home from school. “She would have made everyone go back to their seats and then she’d have someone recite the rules about dismissal and then let us go one at a time.”

  “Yeah,” Nikki says sadly.

  “We should write Mr. Willow a note about how things are supposed to be.”

  Nikki seems to be thinking about this for a moment. “Kids are going to get mad at us for being goody-goods.”

  Deja rolls her eyes. “So?” Then she says, “We can do it anon . . . anon . . .” Deja can’t remember the word exactly.

  “Anonymously,” Nikki says easily.

  Deja’s not surprised. Nikki plans to be a journalist when she grows up. She knows a lot of words that Deja doesn’t. Words are very important to Nikki.

  Deja has three things to do when she gets home: Feed Ms. Precious Penelope (or, as Deja’s Auntie has begun to call the dog, Ms. P.), walk Ms. Precious Penelope, and do her homework. It was Auntie Dee who saved Ms. P. from getting run over by a car. She’d seen the small brown dog with the long thin legs and pointy little face trapped on the median on Crocker Boulevard, a super-busy street. She’d parked her car, and when it was safe, she had run across the street to where Ms. P. was stuck, grabbed her, and carried her back to the car. She went straight to the pound, where the pound lady said if no one claimed the dog in seven days, Auntie Dee could keep her.

  “I didn’t even know I wanted a dog,” Auntie Dee told her best friend, Phoebe, on the phone, “until I saw this poor little helpless thing—all scared and shivering and not able to go forward or backward.” Auntie told Phoebe that she suddenly wanted to take the dog home. She just didn’t know what had come over her.

  They waited the seven days and no one claimed Ms. Penelope. Auntie Dee thought someone had abandoned her. Anyway, Ms. P. is a nice addition to their home, and so easy. If you don’t count the occasional accidents in the house, that is. Deja loves Ms. Penelope as much as she once loved Bear, her favorite stuffed animal that she’s recently outgrown. Where is Bear, anyway? she thinks.

  “When do you want to work on the anonymous letter to poor Mr. Willow?” Nikki asks.

  “I have to walk Ms. Precious Penelope first and feed her and do my homework. I’ll come over after that.”

  Auntie Dee is doing freelance work at home until she can go back to her very fun job at the theater company. The company ran out of money— for now—so they had to “let Auntie Dee go.” Deja’s happy that Auntie Dee has enough work that things haven’t changed too much. There’s no money for “extras,” but Deja hasn’t had much need for extras. Maybe extras will be more important later. And when they become important, the theater company will call Auntie Dee back to work.

  Auntie Dee is in front of her computer when Deja comes through the front door.

  “Hi, honey,” she calls out. “I already walked Ms. P. for you, and she’s been fed.”

  “Can I take her over to Nikki’s for a little bit and do my homework over there?”

  “I guess so,” Auntie Dee says, and then squints at the computer screen.

  3

  Dear Mr. Willow

  Nikki loves Ms. P. almost as much as Deja does. And Ms. P. loves anyone who will stroke her under the chin. So while they sit on Nikki’s porch thinking of the perfect anonymous letter, they take turns petting Ms. P., who seems to be drifting off to sleep.

  “How should we start?” Deja asks Nikki, who has her special pad on her lap and her pencil poised over it.

  “Hmm,” Nikki says, thinking. “I know. When my mother has me write letters to my great-aunt Nora, she tells me to start with, ‘I hope this letter finds you well. . . . ’”

  Deja thinks about this. “But would we be wanting to find him . . . well? That sounds funny. He might wonder what we mean by that.”

  “No,” says Nikki. “He’ll probably be grateful that someone hopes he’s well.”

  Deja shakes her head impatiently. “What next?”

  “We just tell him why we are writing to him.”

  “Like . . . ?” Deja needs specifics.

  “Hold on,” Nikki sa
ys. She’s busy writing something. Deja waits. Tiny little Ms. P. yawns wide in her sleep.

  “Okay, how does this sound?” Nikki begins to read:

  “Dear Mr. Willow,

  We hope this letter finds you well. There is some stuff that went on today in our class that you probably don’t know about. There’s some bad kids in our class who haven’t been doing what they’re supposed to do. And they’ve been telling you the wrong stuff a lot. Like Richard and Carlos was reading the wrong paragraphs on purpose and we really did have to read Three Frogs and Carlos wasn’t in the right seat and kids know they weren’t supposed to be sharpening their pencils like they were. We think you should tell Ms. Shelby-Ortiz all this stuff when she gets back. And you should probably bench the bad kids or tell them you’re going to bench them to make them act good. Because we know they can act good because they act good when Ms. Shelby-Ortiz is here. And Carlos and Richard were the ones who threw those spitballs.

  Signed,

  Anonymous

  “So, what do you think?” Nikki asks, looking at her letter as if she’s really proud of it.

  “It’s good,” Deja says. “Do you want to do our homework out here with Ms. P.?”

  “Sure,” Nikki says. She goes into the house to get her books and a notebook.

  Deja looks over at Ms. P., who seems to be twitching through a dream.

  On the way to school the next morning, Deja thinks of something. “Nikki, if this is supposed to be anon . . . anon . . .”

  “Anonymous,” Nikki says.

  “Yes, anonymous . . . Then how do we get it to Mr. Willow?”

  “Hmm,” Nikki says. “We can put it on his desk—”

  “Ms. Shelby-Ortiz’s desk.”

  “Right. Ms. Shelby-Ortiz’s desk. When he’s not looking.”

  “You think we can get away with that?”

  Nikki shrugs.

  Deja sighs. Since Nikki wrote the letter, it’s Deja’s job to deliver it. It’s going to be tricky.

  Mr. Willow is standing at the head of the line when Deja and Nikki walk onto the schoolyard. He has a clipboard in his hand. He uses it to see if everyone is where he or she should be. But already Carlos and Ralph and Richard and Keisha are in the wrong places and laughing to themselves. The sight of them makes Deja angry. She and Nikki quietly get in their places and wait for the bell to ring, the one that tells everyone it’s time to go to class. Mr. Willow walks behind the students as they file into the building. Ms. Shelby-Ortiz always leads them. At certain spots, she stops to see if everyone is lined up correctly and walking in an orderly fashion.

  As soon as the class enters Room Ten, they scatter. Everyone knows the morning routine, but some hang out at the cubbies, taking their time and socializing. Some gather around each other’s desks. Mr. Willow gave a little bit of homework the day before, but the homework basket is only half full. Deja looks around and her anger grows. Nikki looks like she’s not liking what she’s seeing, either.

  Mr. Willow goes to the light switch and turns it on and off and on and off. Most of the students stop then and look at him to see what that’s about.

  “Uh, class, can we put our homework in the basket and get in our seats?”

  Deja wonders why he is talking like that. He shouldn’t ask and he shouldn’t include himself. He should just tell the class what to do and follow that up with threats. She’s tempted to yell out, “Everybody, get in your SEATS!” But she doesn’t.

  Eventually the people who are fooling around drift toward their desks and sit down. Ms. Shelby-Ortiz had gotten rid of their rows and now has them sitting in cooperative groups of four desks facing each other. Mr. Willow stands at the front of the room and asks the students to state their names. Carlos says his name is Ralph and Ralph says his name is Carlos, then everyone bursts into laughter and Mr. Willow looks flustered.

  Richard gets up to sharpen his pencil, and when Mr. Willow says, “You in the blue shirt, please get back in your—” Richard interrupts him.

  “My name is not ‘You in the blue shirt.’ It’s Richard.”

  Everyone freezes in place. The room falls silent. This is one of those moments Auntie Dee talks about—when you can hear a pin drop. Richard has just talked back to a grownup, a teacher. Never in a thousand years would he have said that to Ms. Shelby-Ortiz. Never.

  “Richard, please return to your seat.”

  Deja thinks Ms. Shelby-Ortiz would have said, “Richard, either get back in your seat or stay in for recess. The choice is yours.” Then she would have stared him down until he obeyed.

  But Mr. Willow doesn’t even look like he means what he says.

  The morning doesn’t go well. Mr. Willow has them take out their morning journals and write about a favorite item they have in their bedroom. Half of the class is talking and breaking their pencil leads on purpose and generally wasting time.

  Next, Mr. Willow puts sentences on the board with mistakes for them to correct. When he turns around to look at the class, Deja raises her hand.

  “Yes?” he says.

  “May I sharpen my pencil, Mr. Willow?” She said may instead of can, and she hopes he notices.

  “Certainly,” he says. He turns back to the board.

  Deja gets up to go to the pencil sharpener. On her way there, she glances around to make sure no one is watching, then puts the folded letter on Ms. Shelby-Ortiz’s desk. Right in the center. Right where Mr. Willow will be sure to see it.

  Dismissal for morning recess is extra disorderly. When the bell rings, Keisha and Rosario jump up out of their seats and run to the door that lets out onto the yard. Of course, all the copycats jump up out of their seats to do the same, until there’s a big rush at the door. Only the good kids stay in their seats: Gavin and Erik and Nikki and Deja and Beverly and a few others. Mr. Willow is so caught off-guard and flustered, he can barely get his words out.

  “Uh . . . Hey, wait a minute. I haven’t dismissed anyone. Everyone has to line up first. I need this class lined up. . . .” The kids at the door push it open and run out as if they haven’t even heard him. Deja and Nikki, at Table Three, get out of their seats and line up at the door along with all those who’ve chosen to follow Mr. Willow’s instructions. Instead of calling the errant kids back, which is what Ms. Shelby-Ortiz would do (boy, would those kids get it!), he just follows them outside and stands there a moment watching after them and looking helpless.

  Deja is totally disgusted. She wishes she could just call up Ms. Shelby-Ortiz and tell her all about what’s happening in her class during her absence, but she doesn’t have her telephone number.

  “Maybe he’ll do something when he reads our anonymous note,” Nikki says. They’re headed for the jump-rope area. Keisha and Ayanna are already there in line, waiting their turns.

  “Why are you guys being bad with Mr. Willow?” Deja asks as soon as she takes her place behind them.

  “What?” Ayanna asks in an innocent voice.

  “You know what,” Nikki says, joining in. “You’d never do all that bad stuff if Ms. Shelby-Ortiz was here.”

  Ayanna rolls her eyes and turns back around.

  “I think Mr. Willow should write Ms. Shelby-Ortiz a report and tell her everything you guys have been doing,” Deja says.

  Ayanna just shrugs, then jumps into the turning ropes and begins chanting, “All last night and the night before, twenty-four robbers came knocking at the door. . . .”

  4

  Kick Me!

  Later, before the class drifts into Room Ten—the line has completely fallen apart—Deja overhears something horrid. She hears Carlos tell Richard he’s going to sneak a Post-it onto Mr. Willow’s jacket. And it’s going to say “Kick Me.”

  As soon as Deja enters the classroom, she looks at the teacher closely. She wishes she knew what to do. Then she remembers their anonymous letter. She looks over at Mr. Willow to see if he seems to have read it. She can’t tell. He’s standing by the whiteboard with Ms. Shelby-Ortiz’s teacher’s edition
, looking like he’s waiting for everyone to settle down so that he can explain their workbook assignment.

  The class makes him wait a long time. Not Deja and Nikki and Gavin and Erik and Beverly and Antonia, though. They all sit with their hands folded on their desks. Deja looks over at Richard. He has sneaked a Post-it off the pad on Ms. Shelby-Ortiz’s desk and has written “Kick Me!” on it in red marker. He’s holding it up so Carlos can see.

  Quickly, Deja scribbles a note to Nikki, then coughs to get her attention. It’s the signal they sometimes use when passing notes to each other. Nikki looks over at Deja and sees her putting the folded paper in the box of markers and colored pencils and crayons that sits in the middle of Table Three. Each group of four desks has a box of shared art supplies in the center. Nikki takes the note out and opens it on her lap. It reads:

  Carlos and Richard are going to put a sticky note on the back of Mr. Willow’s jacket and it’s going to say Kick Me.

  Nikki’s mouth drops open. She refolds the paper and puts it in her desk.

  “All right, class,” Mr. Willow begins. “Let’s take our Language Arts workbooks out, and can we turn to page forty-two?” He goes on to explain the assignment and then makes the mistake of asking if there are any questions. Ralph’s hand shoots up.

  “Yes, uh . . . Ralph.” He’s been making an effort to learn everyone’s name, at least.