Everybody got out a dictionary. Allison found a dictionary in her desk, too.
“What are we supposed to do with it?” she asked.
“Memorize it,” said Nick.
“But that’s impossible!” said Allison.
“No, it’s easy,” Virginia assured her. “You memorize one word at a time, until you get a whole page. Then you go on to the next page.”
“How many words have you memorized?” asked Allison.
“I’m almost finished with the B’s,” Virginia said proudly. “And I’ve only been doing it for thirty-two years!”
Allison opened her dictionary. Mrs. Jewls’s class! she suddenly remembered. She sighed with relief. For the last six days she’d been trying to remember where she came from.
In her mind she went through everybody in her former class. She didn’t want to forget again. As she thought about each person, tears filled her eyes. She missed them very much. Even Jason. They were all so wonderful in their own special ways.
When the two-minute break came, she talked to Mark again. He was the only person in the class who still seemed to have a brain.
“How did we get here?” she asked.
“Maybe we’re dead,” said Mark. “Maybe we died and went to—”
“This isn’t Heaven!” said Allison.
“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” said Mark.
Allison felt a chill run up her spine. She looked at Miss Zarves. Miss Zarves smiled back at her.
“But she seems so nice,” said Allison. “Could someone as nice as her really be the devil?”
“I don’t know,” said Mark. “She always gives good grades.”
“What would happen if we didn’t do our work?” asked Allison.
“We have to do our work,” said Mark.
“Why?” asked Allison. “What’s Miss Zarves going to do to us—keep us after school?”
“I don’t know,” said Mark. “Teachers can always find new ways to punish you. They’re experts at it.”
“Your two minutes are up, boys and girls,” announced Miss Zarves. “Everyone back to work.”
Allison returned to her seat. She tried to figure it all out, but she had so much busy work to do, she didn’t have time to think.
That’s her plan! Allison suddenly realized. She shivered as it all came together for her. Miss Zarves assigns us lots of busy work so we don’t have time to think. She makes us memorize stupid things so that we don’t think about the important things. And then she gives us good grades to keep us happy.
Miss Zarves walked around the room. “Very good, Virginia,” she said. “You are doing so well. Excellent, Ray! Good job, Nick.” She stopped when she got to Allison. “Allison, why aren’t you working?”
Allison looked at her. She knew Mark was right. Teachers are experts at finding ways to punish you. And if Miss Zarves was the devil, who knew what she might have up her sleeve? Still, Allison had to take a chance. If she wanted to get back to Mrs. Jewls’s class, she had to act as if she were in Mrs. Jewls’s class.
She took off her shoes and socks, sat on the floor, and sucked her toes.
“Allison, what are you doing?” asked Miss Zarves.
Allison took her toe out of her mouth. “Get off my case, Buzzard Face,” she said.
Miss Zarves was furious. “Return to your desk, young lady!” she ordered.
Allison returned to her desk. But instead of sitting at it, she climbed on top of it and sang a song.
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“I got one sock!
Lookin’ for the other.
One sock!
Lookin’ for its brother.
When I find that sock!
I’ll tell you what I’ll do.
I’ll put it on my foot,
and I’ll stick it in my shoe!”
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Mark Miller smiled at her and silently clapped his hands. Everyone else looked at her like she was crazy.
“Your socks are on the floor, next to your shoes,” Miss Zarves said coldly. “I’ll give you ten seconds to put them on your feet. Ten … nine … eight … seven …”
Allison climbed down from her desk. She picked up her socks and put them on her ears. “How’s this?” she asked.
“Six … five … four …”
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“Albert Einstein didn’t wear socks,” said Allison. “Why should I?”
“Three … two …”
Allison closed her eyes.
“One!”
She felt something slam down on her foot. Something else jammed into her stomach. “Umph!” she grunted as she fell and rolled down three steps.
“Are you all right?” asked Deedee.
“Huh?” said Allison. She was on the stairs, somewhere between the eighteenth and twentieth stories.
“Sorry,” said Ron. “I didn’t see you. Deedee and I were racing up the stairs, and then you suddenly appeared.”
“You knocked off her shoes and socks!” exclaimed Deedee.
“Oh, I ripped your windbreaker, too,” said Ron. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” said Allison. She picked up her shoes and socks. “Race you up the stairs!”
All three ran up to Mrs. Jewls’s room. When they got there, they were so pooped, they sat with their heads flat on their desks and their tongues hanging out.
“Hi, Allison,” said Rondi.
Allison raised her head. “Hi, Rondi,” she said happily. “What did I miss while I was absent?”
“When were you absent?” asked Rondi. “Hey, how come you’re not wearing your shoes and socks?”
Allison hung her socks from her ears. “What do you think?” she asked. “It’s the new look!”
Rondi laughed.
“Allison,” said Mrs. Jewls, “you seem to have a bad case of the sillies this morning.”
Allison giggled.
Jason entered the room carrying a glass bowl with a goldfish swimming inside it. “Look what I brought!” he said.
“What’s the name of your goldfish?” asked Mrs. Jewls.
“Shark!” said Jason.
Everyone laughed.
“It makes him feel important,” Jason explained. “Where should I put him?”
“How about on top of the coat closet?” suggested Mrs. Jewls.
Jason had to stand on a chair on his tiptoes. He held the bowl at the very bottom as he tried to nudge it over the edge of the closet.
Allison turned around to watch. She didn’t want to miss this!
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Chapter 20, 21 & 22
Eric, Eric, and Eric
Mr. Kidswatter’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker. “MRS. JEWLS, SEND ERIC TO MY OFFICE, AT ONCE!” He sounded mad.
Mrs. Jewls was confused. “When did we get a loudspeaker?” she asked.
“Louis put it in yesterday,” said Jenny.
Mrs. Jewls was still confused. There were three Erics in her class. She didn’t know which one Mr. Kidswatter meant.
Eric Fry was fat, but not short.
Eric Bacon was short, but not fat.
Eric Ovens was short and fat.
Mrs. Jewls chose the biggest Eric. “Eric Fry, Mr. Kidswatter wants to see you.”
Eric Fry trembled as he slowly stood up.
The other two Erics smiled.
The principal’s office was on the first floor. It’s not fair, Eric thought as he headed down to his doom. Anytime any Eric does something wrong, I’m the one who gets in trouble.
He stood in front of the principal’s door. His heart beat very fast. He took a couple of breaths, then knocked lightly.
“Enter!” boomed M
r. Kidswatter.
Eric turned the doorknob. He took one step inside, then stood with his back against the wall, as far away from Mr. Kidswatter as he could get.
Mr. Kidswatter sat behind an enormous desk. He wore mirrored sunglasses so Eric couldn’t tell where he was looking. “Sit down, Eric,” he said.
Eric moved to the small metal chair in front of the desk. A bare light bulb hung above his head.
Mr. Kidswatter cracked his knuckles. “We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way,” he said. “It’s your choice.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Eric. “I didn’t do anything.”
“So it’s the hard way, is it?” asked Mr. Kidswatter. “Very well. You’ll talk. One way or another, you’ll tell me everything I want to know.”
“But—”
Mr. Kidswatter pounded his fist on his desk. “When was the last time you sharpened your pencil?”
Eric tried to remember, but he was too nervous to think. “Um, wait, let me think,” he stammered. “We had a spelling test on Friday, but I borrowed—”
“Where were you yesterday afternoon, at a quarter past twelve?” asked Mr. Kidswatter.
“Yesterday?” asked Eric. “I was here, at Wayside School. I remember I ate lunch and then I played kickball.”
Mr. Kidswatter smiled. “Do you kick with your left foot?” he asked.
“No, I’m right-footed,” said Eric Fry.
“Hmph!” grumbled Mr. Kidswatter. “Have you ever gotten your hair cut at Charley’s Barber Shop?”
“Yes,” said Eric. “Two weeks ago.”
“Aha!” said Mr. Kidswatter. “So you admit it! Do you know what a Mugworm Griblick is?”
Eric Fry turned pale. “No, please!” he begged. “I didn’t do it! I’m innocent! You’ve got the wrong Eric. There are two other Erics in my class.”
Mr. Kidswatter scowled. “So that’s the way you’re going to play it, is it? Well, that’s fine with me. I’ve got all the time in the world.”
He flicked on the microphone. “MRS. JEWLS! SEND ME ANOTHER ERIC!”
Twenty-nine floors above them, Mrs. Jewls looked at the two remaining Erics.
“Okay, Eric Ovens,” she said.
Eric Ovens shivered. His eyes filled with tears.
Why me? he asked himself over and over again as he walked down the stairs. It’s my parents’ fault! Why did they have to name me Eric? Why couldn’t they name me Osgood?
He tapped on the door to the principal’s office.
“Come in!” bellowed Mr. Kidswatter.
Eric Ovens gulped, then walked inside. He sat in the little chair in front of Mr. Kidswatter’s enormous desk.
Eric Fry was nowhere to be seen.
“Wh-what ha-happened to Eric Fry?” he asked.
“I’ll ask the questions!” barked Mr. Kidswatter. “But don’t worry, Eric,” he said gently. “You have nothing to fear. So long as you tell the truth.” He cracked his knuckles.
Eric Ovens was very scared. Mrs. Jewls always said that there was more than one answer to every question. He hoped he gave Mr. Kidswatter the right ones.
“Did you have a spelling test last Friday?” Mr. Kidswatter asked.
“Yes,” said Eric Ovens. “How did you know that?”
“I have my ways,” Mr. Kidswatter said slyly, behind his mirrored glasses. “When was the last time you sharpened your pencil?”
“This morning,” said Eric Ovens. “Maurecia accidentally stepped on it and—”
“Did you play kickball yesterday at a quarter after twelve?”
“No, I played tetherball.”
“Right- or left-handed?”
“Right.”
Mr. Kidswatter tossed a stapler at him.
Eric caught it with his right hand.
Mr. Kidswatter scowled. “Okay, Eric, tell me this. Have you ever gotten your hair cut at Charley’s Barber Shop?”
“No, but I will. I’ll go right now if you want.”
“You’re not going anywhere!” shouted Mr. Kidswatter. “Have you ever heard of a Mugworm Griblick?”
Eric Ovens screamed.
Upstairs, Mrs. Jewls heard Mr. Kidswatter’s voice resound over the loudspeaker. “MRS. JEWLS, SEND ME THE LAST ERIC!”
“On my way!” said Eric Bacon. He hopped out of his chair and bounced down the stairs.
He didn’t bother knocking on Mr. Kidswatter’s door. He just walked right in. “What can I do for you?” he asked.
There was no sign of Eric Ovens.
“Have a seat,” said Mr. Kidswatter. “I just want to ask you a few questions.”
“Sure thing,” said Eric Bacon. He sat in the little chair. He leaned back with his hands behind his head and his feet up on Mr. Kidswatter’s desk.
He looked at himself in Mr. Kidswatter’s mirrored glasses, took a comb out of his back pocket, and combed his hair. His hair was very neat and trim. He had gotten it cut yesterday, at 12:15, at Charley’s Barber Shop.
Mr. Kidswatter cracked his knuckles. “When’s the last time you sharpened your pencil?” he asked.
“November eleventh,” Eric Bacon answered right away. “It was three minutes before five o’clock in the afternoon. I remember because my watch stopped.”
“Where were you yesterday at twelve-fifteen?”
“I was in the garden, having tea.”
“Did Maurecia step on somebody’s pencil this morning?” asked Mr. Kidswatter.
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
“She stepped on everybody’s pencil,” said Eric Bacon.
“Are you left-handed or right-footed?” demanded Mr. Kidswatter.
“I write with my left foot, and I kick with my right hand,” replied Eric Bacon.
Mr. Kidswatter scowled. “Have you ever gotten your hair cut at Charley’s Barber Shop?”
“No, I never get my hair cut,” said Eric Bacon. “I’m bald. This is a wig.”
Mr. Kidswatter took off his glasses and glared at him. “Do the words ‘Mugworm Griblick’ mean anything to you?”
Eric Bacon shook his head. “I can look it up in the dictionary if you want.”
Mr. Kidswatter shook his head. “I tried that,” he said. “It’s not there.” He rubbed his chin. “Okay, boys, you can come out now.”
Eric Ovens and Eric Fry crawled out from under the desk.
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Mr. Kidswatter looked at each Eric. “One of you is lying,” he said. “I don’t know who it is, but I’ll find out. And when I do, whoever it is will be very sorry. Now I’ll give you one last chance to come clean.”
Eric Fry trembled.
Eric Ovens shivered.
“C’mon, let’s blow this Popsicle stand,” said Eric Bacon. He walked out of the room. The other two Erics followed.
Mr. Kidswatter rubbed the back of his neck. He looked at the white card on top of his desk. On one side it said:
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CHARLEY’S BARBER SHOP
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Under that, in blue ink, it said:
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Eric, Tuesday, 12:15
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He turned the card over. On the other side, a left-handed handed person had written with a sharp pencil:
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Chapter 23
Teeth
Something terrible happened. Rondi grew two new front teeth.
Rondi was afraid nobody would think she was cute anymore.
Mrs. Jewls was giving a health lesson. “Always brush your teeth,” she said, “and remember to scrub behind your ears.”
“But I’ll get toothpaste in my ear!” exclaimed Todd.
Everyone laughed. Except Rondi. She didn’t want anybody to see her teeth. She hadn’t smiled for a week.
Mrs. Jewls made Todd write his name on the board under the word DISCIPLINE.
At recess Rondi decided to tell Louis her problem.
Louis was talking to Deedee.
“Do you have any green balls left?” asked Deedee.
“I’m sorry, I’ve already given them all away,” said Louis.
“That’s not fair!” said Deedee. “Why don’t you ever save one for me?”
“You know I can’t do that,” said Louis. “If I save a ball for you, then all the other kids will want me to save balls for them, too.”
“Thanks for nothing, Louis!” said Deedee. She stormed away.
It was Rondi’s turn. She made sure nobody else was listening. “Louis, will you help me?” she whispered.
“Sure, Rondi, what’s the problem?” asked Louis. Rondi smiled, showing Louis her teeth.
“Very nice,” said Louis.
“And listen to this,” said Rondi. “She sells seashells by the seashore.”
“Very good,” said Louis.
“No it isn’t!” complained Rondi. “I used to whistle when I said words with s’s in them. Now nobody will think I’m cute.”
“I think you’re cute,” said Louis.
“You don’t count,” said Rondi.
“Well, thanks a lot,” said Louis.
“I didn’t mean it bad,” said Rondi. “You think everybody’s cute, even Miss Mush! That’s why I like you.”
“Thank you, Rondi. I like you, too.”
“Thank you,” said Rondi. “Will you please kick me in the teeth?”
“No,” said Louis.
“Why not?” asked Rondi. “You said you liked me. If you liked me, you’d kick me in the teeth.”
“You know I can’t,” said Louis. “If I kick you in the teeth, then all the other kids will want me to kick them in the teeth, too.”
Rondi scowled. “Thanks for nothing, Louis!” she said. She crawled into the bushes where nobody would be able to see her mouth.
“Louis! Louis!” shouted Stephen and Jason as they ran toward him.