Mr. Terupt Falls Again (29 page)

I hoped something would happen in the book to fix everything once and for all. That was the only chance I saw for change. But Peter thought differently. He wasn’t waiting on the book. He decided to make a move, and once he did, it was easy for the rest of us to follow.

S
upposedly, I was a hero for helping Danielle’s grandma at the carnival. Usually I want to be recognized as the best, but not this time. Lots of people helped. I just did what I’d learned to do. What Peter did during Mr. Terupt’s
Whipping Boy
project was a lot more courageous.

It was Field Day. We came to school that morning with half our class still deemed royalty and the other half peasants. There wasn’t much of the story left for us to read, so Mr. Terupt had us finish it before Field Day got started. This was where Peter stepped in. We were all seated and ready to start reading when he stood up.

“I’d like to say something,” he said. “Last year I spent a chunk of time alone and feeling helpless. I remember what that was like—it stunk! And now a bunch of you are stuck as peasants and there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re
helpless. I don’t like it and I don’t feel good about it. I don’t care if I’m supposed to be royalty. I’m not going out to Field Day if you can’t come with us.”

Peter sat down. His voice was shaking and beginning to crack by the time he finished.

“Peter’s right,” Jeffrey said, standing up. “I’m not going out unless everyone comes either.” He sat back down.

Wendy was next. She stood up and did the same. Then Marty. Then Nick. By the time the protesting stopped, all the royalty had joined Peter.

Now you know why I said Peter was the hero.

We waited for Mr. Terupt’s response.

“Can any of you tell me what lessons I was hoping you’d get out of this book and our class law?”

“Yeah,” Jeffrey said. “Life isn’t fair.”

“That’s right,” Mr. Terupt said. “We’ve had plenty of experience with that truth already, but let this be a final reminder. You need to keep working hard and stick together. Your hard work and friendships will help you through good and bad. The exchange program provided you with opportunities to abandon each other, but you didn’t. Next year and beyond will provide the same opportunities, and I hope you remain together then. Now, what’s the last lesson learned that Peter just showed us?”

Jessica spoke up. “That when we see unfair situations or injustices in our world, it’s up to us to do something about them. Remaining silent when we don’t agree with what’s happening does no good. That only allows the unfair situation to continue.”

“Spoken beautifully, Jessica. I couldn’t have said it any better myself. And I definitely couldn’t have showed you what to do any better than Peter did. Thank you, Peter.”

We finished the book after that. Mr. Terupt actually read it aloud and we followed along. It has a great ending because the two boys become best friends and both enjoy being free—there is no more whipping boy! That meant there were no longer peasants in our classroom, and we were all allowed to attend Field Day! It was a moment of celebration.

To be honest, I really don’t remember much from this year’s Field Day. But I’ll always remember Mr. Terupt’s
Whipping Boy
twist leading up to the day. And I’ll always remember Peter’s heroic stand.

J
effrey and I got to wrestle at Field Day, and we were easily the best. It was fun to show off our stuff. Everyone thought we were amazing. Jeffrey’s new little brother, Asher, sat by the side of the mat bouncing up and down and clapping the whole time.

I could tell you all about the moves I hit and how nasty I looked doing them, but there was something else more important than that. Our guest referee was a high school kid volunteering his time—Middle-Finger Boy. I remembered him well. Lexie filled me in on Brandon being a wrestler and how he missed competing this past season because of an injury. Coach Terupt knew the story and wanted to help the kid, despite his middle finger. No surprise there.

Brandon turned out to be pretty cool. He showed me and Jeffrey a couple of nice moves at the end of the day. Something told me I’d be seeing more of him at my wrestling practices, and I was good with that.

I
sat on that stage at graduation looking out at all the people. I had a family sitting down in the audience. It’s hard to explain how much that meant to me. Last year, I wouldn’t have been able to say that. I spent time in a silent house with a mom and dad who barely spoke to each other or to me. I know what I’ve got now, and I don’t ever want to lose it.

Asher is already ten months old. He’s crawling all over the place, and he can stand up when he has something to grab on to. I’ve been teaching him a wrestling stance. He’s got a good one.

Dad and I had such a good time building the bookcase that we’ve decided to tackle another project together. This one is a little bigger.

After Michael passed away Mom couldn’t stand to see
his empty bedroom. Closing the door didn’t help. His room was still there, haunting her. I don’t think Dad and I liked it any better. So we moved to a house with one less bedroom, but now we have a need of another—Asher’s. Dad and I are going to build it. We’re making our house a home.

S
ome people say that when you have a brush with death, or if someone you care for deeply has a brush with death, then that can lead you to finding God. I’d known God for a long time, but I won’t deny that Grandma’s close call brought me even closer to Him. Everything around me took on a religious feel.

Take Peter, for example. He was Moses. Moses was royalty and chose to join the slaves. Didn’t Peter do that when we read
The Whipping Boy
? Yes. He was one of our angels. And so was Luke, for helping my grandmother. And Mr. Terupt. And Anna, for also helping Grandma—in many ways. And Jeffrey, for saving Asher. Angels were all around us and among us. Jessica was the next one I spotted.

She stood at the podium as our class orator. Every year, at graduation ceremonies across the land, select students
gave talks about their memories and words of encouragement for the future. Each of the sixth-grade classes at Snow Hill School chose such a speaker. We couldn’t have picked a better person from our class than Jessica.

“I titled my speech
Time with Mr. Terupt
,” she said.

But what I heard was, “A reading from the Gospel according to Mr. Terupt.” That was how special I knew her words were going to be, and everyone else in the audience knew it too.

Dear God
,

Thank you! I’m praying just to give thanks—for surrounding me with such wonderful people. I can see all the angels now. Also for giving me Grandma back. But you’ve done more than that. I can see now that one of my longtime prayers is being answered. Graduation is sort of a big deal—even for sixth graders, so that means dressing up. When I went to put on my favorite pair of dress pants I couldn’t believe it. Another pair of high-waters. Once dress pants, now capris. And they were loose around my waist! “You’ll thin out,” Mom has always told me. I guess it’s time. Maybe this period thing isn’t all bad after all. Thank you. Amen
.

F
ADE IN: SIXTH-GRADE GRADUATION. Rows of chairs line the gymnasium floor, none empty. People stand against the padded walls along the sides and back of the room. Large industrial-sized fans are stationed by the doors and help circulate air through the crowd on this hot and sticky afternoon. All sixth graders sit in folding chairs on the stage, arranged in alphabetical order by last name. MRS. WILLIAMS sits with the graduates, and the teachers sit off to the side. There is a podium for each speaker to use and there are balloons tied in various locations all around the room. Parents, relatives, and friends are in attendance, many of them with bunches of flowers to give to their special student
.

CUT TO: JESSICA standing at the podium. She opens her speech and presses it flat, running her hand over the crease. Her eyes survey the audience
.