Freaky Monday (4 page)

“We have definitely entered an unsafe zone,” observed Nan.

Just then, there was a knock at the door and Kaya Tisch appeared dressed as a giant heart. Yup…exactly what we needed right about now.

“It's Student Council's Candy-Grams delivery time!” Kaya chirped.

“Candy-Grams are beyond pointless,” I muttered. That's why I hadn't bought any last week when they were selling them. Plus, I knew I wouldn't get one from anybody, so why bother. Hadley lightly punched me in the arm in protest, and Kaya turned in mock horror, reacting as if I had just run over a box of puppies. I guess it was sorta strange for Ms. Pitt to object to Candy-Grams. She lives for these “student-directed interchanges.”

“Why would you say that, Ms. Pitt? You
chair
Student Council, remember?!” Kaya asked incredulously.

Oh. Right. “Yeah. That's cool,” I offered weakly, which clearly did little to convince anyone of Ms. Pitt's sanity. “Let's just get this over with, then.”

Kaya gulped and tried to put on her best happy-time face. She pulled out construction-paper hearts from a bag.

“So these Candy-Grams are the kickoff for our I Hate Mondays Dance, which will be totally awesome!” I gestured a mini “woo-hoo” and twirled my fingers.

Of course Hadley wasn't having any of that and swiped my hand down.

“Pat Offenbacher!” Kaya delivered Pat a Candy-Gram heart and he treated it with complete indifference.

“Renee Loomis!” Renee seemed way more excited about her heart.

“Ms. Pitt!”

With the announcement of Ms. Pitt getting a Candy-Gram, the whole class burst into a suggestive
WOOOO
!

I turned to Hadley. “Okay, who sent YOU a Candy-Gram?”

Hadley's eyes said it all. “Uh, don't you mean YOUR Candy-Gram, Ms. Pitt?”

“Oh. Right. My Candy-Gram! Let me see that!” I
snagged the Candy-Gram and dug into it. I read aloud, “‘Be Mine! XO, Mr. H.'” I thought about it for a beat. “No way, Mr. Hudson?! Nice, he's quasi-adorable!”

Hadley covered her mouth with her hand, clearly pondering this delivery.

“Okay, cue the theme to
Twilight Zone
,” Soup joked. The class burst into uncomfortable laughter.

Just then Kaya came back into the classroom. “Sorry, I almost forgot one. It's for Hadley Fox from a Secret Admirer.”

I jumped into the air. I GOT A CANDY-GRAM?

Except the class—whose collective heads were going to explode from confusion anyway—wasn't exactly expecting Ms. Pitt to leap for joy. I looked at Soup and Nan with a big dorky smile and they just cringed back.

But seriously, who could this be from? I was also for the record a bit horrified that despite the fact I seemed to have, oh, you know, SWITCHED BODIES WITH MY TEACHER, I was still capable of obsessing about a secret admirer Candy-Gram.

Mr. Wells peered into the classroom, double-checking to see if the prior weirdness was continuing. And was it ever.

Instinctively, Ms. Pitt waved—and never before had Mr. Wells seen Hadley Fox so excited to see him. She
flopped her hand around until she realized Hadley probably wouldn't respond that way, and then she awkwardly put her hand down. This only confirmed his internal
Hmmm
, I'm sure.

“So, Zane. I guess you better get into your newly formed group, huh?” I said. As Hadley begrudgingly walked toward him, I whispered, “Be cool.”

I leaned over to Zane and kindly offered, “And if you ever need an English tutor or anything like that, Zane, I am SO at your service….”

“Gross,” Soup whispered to himself.

I was smiling at Zane in a vaguely flirty, liberated way and realized it may have seemed just a wee bit predatory. Major creepy chills. So I dialed back the smile and moved on.

Zane's friend Blake witnessed this and leaned over. “Dude, Ms. Pitt is fine. She can totally tutor me anytime she wants….” Zane's only response was a weirded-out look.

Unbelievably, the school bell rang. Apparently body-switching is a time-consuming business and the whole forty-eight minutes had passed. Everyone got up in a daze to exit class. Hadley (and it is SO strange to stare at yourself, like it's a mirror, but there's no mirror there!) and I shared a look and realized she should leave the class and
follow the students. After all, Hadley's a student, right?

I leaned over and whispered to Hadley, “Locker combination is twenty-four, fourteen, twenty-four. Easy. And second period I have home ec with Mrs. Bird. We're making strudel. Don't ask.”

Before she could respond, Zane approached. As in approached me when I wasn't even me! Perfect!

“So, Hadley…”

I stood back and willed Ms. Pitt NOT to make me look, sound, or act like a freak. “Yes, Zane?” Oh, jeez, that sounded like I was forty-two years old! And even Ms. Pitt wasn't forty-two! It seemed that once she was in my body, Ms. Pitt decided to get in touch with her most matronly, stuffy-shirt self.

“So you, uh, going to the dance tonight?” Zane stammered.

Every hair on my body stood on end. Was I hearing this??

“Yes, I suppose I should,” Hadley said.

“Cool. See you there, then,” Zane offered, and darted off.

I swooped up to Hadley and repeated what I had just heard. “‘See you there, then'?” I whispered excitedly.

Hadley clearly was not grasping the all-consuming amazingness of this. “Yes, I've always suspected Zane
was interested in you.”

“Shut! Up!”
I squealed, and again, more students turned to stare. I guess teachers don't routinely talk like they're cast members on
The Real World
.

“He pretends to look at the posters on the wall, but I suspect he's looking at you.”

“No way! There is no possible way Zane Enter-Middle-Name-Here Henderson could possibly like me!” My wheels were spinning now. “I mean, he's probably in love with Tatum and only wants to get near her. Right?”

“We really have bigger—”

“BUT…even if he IS interested, which I'm suggesting he is because, after all, I am me, right? BUT even if he IS interested, of course this would have to happen on the day I'm in my TEACHER'S BODY!”

I glanced up and saw Nan and Soup approaching. I walked away, but only far enough to make it
look
like I couldn't hear.

“Okay, what is going on?” they asked the Hadley substitute.

“On? Nothing,” Hadley responded. Good so far.

“Yeah, what was that with Ms. Pitt? I know you've always thought she was lame, but—”

“Wait,
lame
?
I think Ms. Pitt is lame?
” Hadley's voice
was so hurt. Ooops. Ms. Pitt was going to be in for some surprises today.

“Duh. She's always going on about Tatum and you hate that. You are seriously wacked this morning. Did someone spike your OJ this morning or something?”

“No, I don't drink! Ever! Do I?”

“Caffeine's as dark as you get. Wait. Why am I telling
you
what
you
do again?” Nan turned to Soup. “Does this make any sense to you?”

“None,” Soup said, and took off.

As I eavesdropped on this exchange I realized it was going to be a seriously long haul and increasingly difficult to make people believe we were each other. I mean, I have ZERO in common with koo-koo-ca-chew Ms. Pitt. The jig would be up, pronto.

Then I noticed Mr. Hudson approaching. Lately, Mr. Hudson was a familiar face in the halls of Burroughs Junior High. He was a substitute and I guess a lot of teachers had been out lately. And while his tie selection was nearly always unfortunate, his warm eyes overrode his taste in neckwear.

He had a little shy smile, and I knew exactly what that meant—it meant he must have a crush on Ms. Pitt. It was kind of crazy to think that teachers could have crushes like teenagers (and let's be honest, to have
lives
at all). I
couldn't believe any man would be pining for Ms. Pitt, but then again, different strokes for different folks. I reached out and stopped him from passing.

“I had no idea you had such a crush!” I said it before I could stop myself.

Mr. Hudson looked down and muttered, getting a bit red in the face, “Well…”

It also became apparent that the Ms. Pitt–Mr. Hudson romance might need a little nudge. I always wanted to play matchmaker, something right out of
Fiddler on the Roof
or something, so I figured this was my shot. “And I have NEVER seen a teacher send anyone a Candy-Gram like that before. Very gutsy move. Very P.D.A.”

Mr. Hudson's face clouded over. It was obvious he didn't follow that last part. Maybe this meddling wasn't such a keen idea—I did have bigger fish to fry. Like SWITCHING MY BODY BACK WITH MY TEACHER, for instance.

It took a minute to figure out what Ms. Pitt would say to him. “Well, I'd better ingest some healthful nutrients, Mr. H!” I
knew
that was wrong, so I blazed out of there just as I thought I heard Mr. Hudson say, “See you tonight…then.” But I didn't even stop to think what that might mean.

I Scotch-taped my
class schedule to the inside of my locker so Ms. Pitt would know where to go. I mean, it was the least I could do—I wasn't about to have my grades slide any more by this body-switching business.

And I admit—and I am surprised to say this—it was a little satisfying.

Now Ms. Pitt would REALLY see firsthand how mindless and antiquated home ec was (it was required, don't ask), how dull earth science was, and also how Mr. Rendell blinked unnaturally while teaching social studies. It was as if he was constantly blinking dust out of his eyes and it was completely distracting. Who could focus on how the legislative branch works with that going on?

I was glad it was finally lunch and I could refuel—seriously, this whole switching bodies thing was beyond draining and I needed some nourishment. I looked out at the lunchroom cafeteria, scanning for Hadley or Soup
or Nan. I couldn't spot them. Instead I saw Zane silently munching on a sandwich and I sighed longingly. Even the sight of him reaching for a Frito was intoxicating. But when the science teacher Ms. Kenkel heard this audible sigh, she shot Ms. Pitt a puzzled look.

“Headed into the teachers' lounge, then?” Ms. Kenkel asked in a suspicious tone.

“Oh. Yeah. Teachers' lounge, right. The fortress,” I joked. Ms. Kenkel held the door open for me and I crept inside.

I had always wondered what lay behind these doors. What were the teachers talking about in here? Major school secrets? Lurid gossip? I wouldn't be surprised if there was a shrine to Tatum up on the walls.

Instead, I was amazed to see a TV blaring
Days of Our Lives
. Two of the teachers were riveted to the TV.

“Whoever gave her that medication wanted her to lose her mind,”
a very earnest handsome soapy star on TV said to a woman lying in a hospital bed.

I burst into laughter—somehow a soap opera seemed strangely removed from the intention of higher learning. (And I use the term “higher learning” loosely.) “Soap operas? Seriously?”

The only response to this was the volume being turned up.

I walked to the refrigerator and opened it up. I found several cans of Slim Fast and brown paper bags. There was also an environmentally friendly recyclable lunch box that had clearly been marked with a Sharpie:
MS
.
PITT
. Of course. I reached for it and sat down…all this body-switching had made me ravenous.

I was horrified (and not surprised) to see Ms. Pitt had packed a weird organic vegan mush thing. I didn't even know what it was. All I knew was that it was very suspicious-looking lying there in the Tupperware bowl.

“Gross!” I said aloud, and Ms. Kenkel shot me another worried look.

“Well…that's what I've been saying for years. I've never known how you do it,” Ms. Kenkel said. “With all the organic this and organic that, that is.”

“Me neither.” I got up and tossed the food into the garbage. Ms. Kenkel let out a shocked gasp but was clearly amused. Then I went straight to the vending machine. I dumped a few quarters in and whammo, a yummy Dolly Madison fruit pie fell at my feet. I decided to top it off with a little Mountain Dew. That was more like it.

Several teachers looked at me like I had just tossed a box full of kittens out of the window or something.

“What?” I addressed their collective disbelief through a big mouthful of cherry pie. I then noticed the shop
teacher, Mr. Krupp, asleep on the couch, snoring away. It also seemed Mrs. Silsand—who clearly was entirely too focused on
Days of Our Lives
—was GRADING English papers! Just blithely half reading papers and marking them up with a red A+ or B-or D+. The whole situation seemed profoundly half-baked.

“So guess how many hours it took to grade my papers last night,” Ms. Kenkel asked with an air of familiarity as she chewed into her icky-looking tuna salad sandwich. I was clueless.

“Thirty minutes? An hour?” I asked.

Ms. Kenkel burst into hysterics. “Good one.”

I looked over again at Mrs. Silsand's checked-out grading. I gestured toward her and whispered, “It's not taking Mrs. Silsand long.”

“Maybe that's the secret…. I admit: Sometimes I wish I cared less. But I do care. And I know you get that more than anyone else.” She smiled at me and I gave a little understanding grin back. Ms. Pitt
was
dedicated, I couldn't deny that. “Three and a half hours.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. “No way!
Three and a half? HOURS?
At night? To grade papers?”

Ms. Kenkel's eyes grew quizzical. “Well, don't act so surprised.”

“EVERY NIGHT?” I still couldn't believe it—I never even considered the fact that it took any teacher any time at all to grade or correct papers or tests. I thought maybe it all happened magically…or through osmosis…or…

“I know. And meanwhile, we haven't gotten a pay raise in what…four years?”

“That is just so very, very wrong,” I stated.

“Tell me something I don't know. So. Did you hear about Ed?” Ms. Kenkel said conspiratorially, leaning in, as if sharing a juicy secret.

“Ed?”
Edward Scissorhands? Ed Norton? Ed who?

“Ed Wells, of course.”

“Principal Wells?!” Oh, this was going to be good.

“You feeling okay today?” Ms. Kenkel placed a clammy hand on my forehead, as if checking my temperature.

“Actually, I'm not feeling entirely like myself, no.” I smiled. It was the truth. “But I'm fine.”

“Well, I heard Judy—”

“Judy?” Again, I needed the CliffsNotes.

“Judy, Ed's
wife
?”

“Of course, right. His wife. Judy. Go on.”

“Well…Apparently she's been ‘on a trip.'” Ms. Kenkel
provided awkward and a bit too theatrical air quotes. “For about three months now. No one's seen her anywhere at school, in town, in church—she just has virtually ‘
disappeared
,'” she whispered, and again did some more air quotes. Who she was quoting, I wasn't sure. “Now, don't you just think that's the strangest thing?”

“Maybe she likes to travel,” I offered.

“Yes…to divorce court!” Ms. Kenkel clucked and laughed uproariously at her big joke. It was like she thought she was channeling Chris Rock. “You know I'm feeling just crazy enough today to admit something, Carol.”

“Carol?” Oh, right, Carol. I just gulped down my fruit pie and nodded as if to suggest “Go on, please.” This could be interesting.

“Well,” she started tentatively. “I have always been so jealous of you.”

“Jealous?” Of Ms. Pitt? I mean…of
me
? “Good grief, why?”

“Because you really seem to speak the kids' language.”

Chunks of my Dolly Madison cherry pie almost went everywhere. “Speak their language?! You've got to be kidding!”

“No…I'm not.” Ms. Kenkel seemed to be a wee bit irritated now.

“Why, because I use the term ‘jiggy'? Oh, please! P.S.: No one uses ‘jiggy' anymore.” I laughed.

Ms. Kenkel seemed a bit indignant and went to the refrigerator to snoop around. She leaned into it, inspecting the contents and displaying her rather rotund backside. I felt guilty about what I'd said about ‘jiggy'—it was really dismissive.

“But, uh…thanks,” I offered.

Her only response was a cluck. I realized I should use this lounge time to find out what teachers really think of me…but I didn't want to make them too suspicious.

“Say,” I ventured, trying to sound as breezy-casual as possible, “what do you think of Hadley and Tatum Fox?”

Ms. Kenkel stood up and turned, adjusting her shirt awkwardly. “You mean the former student Tatum Fox?”

I nodded. She turned around and went back to her fridge inspection. “Tatum Fox was a delight. A gem. A ray of sunshine, truly.”

I looked down at my Dolly Madison fruit pie wrapping, defeated.

“Few students radiate like that girl. Few people. In
fact, I've never known anyone quite like her. And gorgeous, good grief! You couldn't help but stare!” She paused reminiscing. “We sure do miss her.”

I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't even stay to hear what she thought of me. Who needed it? I bolted.