Hyde and Shriek (2 page)

I lit the paper fuse. The flame crept toward the orange crystals. In a moment, the fire ignited the chemical and the show began. Bright yellow sparks flew up in a shower and green ashes overflowed the crater at the top of the volcano, running down the sides like streams of lava.

I smiled and leaned over the volcano, being careful not to get too close to the sparks. Then I glanced toward the children, eager to see the look of awe and excitement in their bright, happy faces.

There's nothing so wonderful as a simple science experiment. And this one always pleased the kids.

When I looked out at them, they started to scream. First one, then two, then almost all of them screamed, their little voices filling the air with a sound like a thousand whistling teakettles. As I stood there, frozen, most of the children leaped from their seats and rushed down the hall, still screaming.

 

Three

SOMETHING ISN'T RIGHT

I stood there, not knowing what to do. The kids were supposed to go
Oooooohhhh
or
Cool
or
Wow.
They weren't supposed to run screaming in terror. Across the room, Mrs. Rubric flipped on the lights. I looked at her.

“What's going on?” I asked.

She shrugged and smiled nervously. “I'd better go round them up,” she said. She dashed off. In my mind, I could almost see her riding a horse and whirling a lasso over her head as she herded the kindergartners back to the corral.
Round them up.
What a phrase.

The few kids who were still in their seats stared at me with fear-filled eyes. As I took a step toward them, a girl leaped up and screamed, “Wait for me!” She went tearing down the hall after her teacher.

One boy looked calmer than the rest. He also looked familiar. “You're Sebastian's brother, aren't you?” I asked.

He nodded.

Sebastian was in my sixth-grade class. He was a bit of a clown and a show-off, but he had a good heart. “What's your name?” I asked him.

“Rory,” he said.

“Well, Rory, do you have any idea why all those boys and girls left the room?”

He nodded.

“That's great. Do you think you could tell me?”

He nodded again.

“Do you think you could tell me now?”

Another nod. “Promise not to get mad?” he asked.

“I promise.”

He looked around the room. I waited as patiently as I could, wondering if he was going to run off, too. Finally, he spoke. “You looked real scary.”

“What?”

“Leaning over the volcano. Dad does that on Halloween. He puts a flashlight under his chin. The light makes him look spooky. I don't get too scared, since I know it's Dad. But I get a little bit scared.”

I realized that, with the orange glow of the volcano shining up at my face in the dark room, I might have looked the same way. “So I was spooky, Rory? Is that it?”

“Sorta…,” he said. “But … don't get mad … okay? You looked bad spooky. Not fun spooky.” He paused and stared up at me, then asked, “You mad?”

I shook my head and smiled. Young children have such a wonderful way with words.
Bad spooky.
My smile grew wider. Then I laughed. Rory closed his eyes when I did that. In my ears, I heard the echo of my laugh. It wasn't a chuckle or a giggle. It was a spooky laugh.
Bad spooky.

“Maybe you'd better go join your class,” I said.

Rory nodded and got up. The other kids who were still in the room dashed off after him.

This was terrible. How could I teach children if I scared them? Teaching was my life. But it was ridiculous to worry about something that had never happened before and would probably never happen again. I was sure it was just an odd accident of the lighting in the room. At worst, I'd have to make sure I didn't stand over the volcano the next time. I certainly didn't want to scare more children. But when I thought about them running and screaming in fear, something made me grin.

I put those thoughts aside, realizing that I was still a little dizzy from my breakfast drink. It would pass.

The rest of the morning went normally. I didn't terrify anyone else. Of course, I had mostly sixth-graders, and just about nothing terrifies them.

Then, right before lunch, my normal world was torn apart. And so was I.

 

Four

JACKIE

As I was getting ready for lunch, Mr. Rubinitski stuck his head in my room and said, “Hi. Got a second?”

“Sure,” I said, waving him in.

He came over to my desk and put something down. “I was out of town this weekend, and I saw this in a museum shop. I figured you'd like it.”

“Thanks. I love fossils.” I picked it up and examined it. “You shouldn't have.”

“My pleasure,” he said. “Well, I'd better get going.” He smiled and walked off.

I held the fossil for a moment, then put it down and dropped back into my chair as another wave of dizziness washed over me. It was much worse than before. But then, just as suddenly, I felt fine.

Goodness.

“It's gone,” I said to myself. The dizziness was completely gone. I stood up cautiously, but everything was fine. Better than fine. I felt great—just in time for lunch. As I walked through the empty classroom, I noticed something else. The room was different. It had grown bigger. No, not bigger. Taller. Everything was taller. Not by much. But enough for me to notice.

Something weird was going on.

But I didn't care. I felt fabulous. I walked out to the hall. Wait. I wasn't walking. Goodness. I was skipping. I hadn't done that in years. When I realized what I was doing, I giggled. My word—I couldn't remember the last time I'd giggled, either. What next? I wondered.

“Hi.”

I turned toward the voice. It was Dawn, a sixth-grader. One of my favorite students. She was always so nice and cheerful. What a lovely girl.

“Hi,” I said back. I was about to ask her if she was ready for the science fair when she spoke again.

“You must be new,” she said, staring at me. “My name's Dawn.”

I didn't answer. It wasn't just her words that froze me. It was her eyes. They were level with mine. I glanced down at my feet. I still had my shoes, though they looked a bit large. I checked Dawn's feet. Sneakers. Dawn was tall for a sixth-grader, but I'd always been taller. Until now. Somehow, I'd lost two or three inches. I checked the hem of my skirt. It was definitely lower than before. Goodness gracious.

“What's your name?” Dawn asked.

“Jackie,” I said.

“You look familiar,” Dawn told me. “Come on—I'll show you where the cafeteria is.”

“Thanks.” I followed Dawn downstairs. We went to the end of the hall and around the corner. As we walked past the auditorium, I caught sight of my reflection in the glass front of a display case. Oh my goodness. I couldn't help gasping. This was wonderful. I looked like I was eleven again. I felt great, too.

“Come on,” Dawn urged. “It's burger day. If we're late, we'll get the burgers from the bottom of the pan. You know—the ones that have meat goo around the edges.”

“Can't risk meat goo,” I said, hurrying after Dawn. Sure, I had things to figure out, like why I'd turned into a kid. But right now, I just wanted to enjoy lunch. People spent too much time worrying. And too little time enjoying the pleasures of life. Too much meat goo, not enough meat.

“Where are you from?” Dawn asked as we got into the lunch line.

“I grew up in Denver,” I said. That was certainly true. I'd grown up there, and now I'd grown down.

“I've never been to Denver,” Dawn said. “I'd like to go someday. There are lots of places I'd like to see.”

I got my burger—no goo—and paid with the money I had in my skirt pocket. Then I followed Dawn to a table where we joined four other girls.

“This is Jackie,” Dawn said. “From Denver.” She pointed around the table and named her friends, “Kim, Nicole, Rose, and Brittany.”

We all said hi to one another. I waited for one of the girls to recognize me.

“You look familiar,” Kim said.

“A lot of people say that to me,” I told her. And that was as far as it went. At the next table, I noticed Norman and Sebastian. Norman was reading a chemistry book and writing notes on a piece of paper. Sebastian was sticking straws in his nose and humming.

“Ignore him,” Dawn said. “He's trying to impress us. If you pay any attention, he'll start getting real silly.”

I looked away from Sebastian, though I was tempted to find out how silly he could become.

Maybe I should have been worried about the change that had just happened to me, but that didn't seem important right now. I figured I'd change back eventually. For the moment, I wasn't concerned. It didn't do any good to worry.

Besides—lunch was fascinating. It turned out that one of the students' favorite subject was teachers. At first, they talked about the ones they liked. It was wonderful to hear them say nice things about my fellow teachers. I tried not to listen when they said nice things about Miss Clevis—I mean, about me. It felt too much like I was spying. Still, it was good to hear that they liked science. But then, things turned nasty.

“I hate Mr. Brickner,” Nicole said.

“Yeah.” Rose nodded. “He's so mean.”

That shocked me. How could they think sweet old Mr. Brickner, who was ancient enough to remember most of the history he was teaching, could be mean? He always looked so gentle, walking down the hall in his faded tan suit and brown tie, clutching the handle of the battered old cane he carried everywhere. I thought he was very charming. Instead of joining the conversation, I took a bite of my burger and chewed it slowly.

Goodness. The meat tasted wonderful. I took a gulp of cold milk. That tasted great, too. Kim passed me one of the cookies her mother had baked. What a perfect way to end my meal.

A bell rang. Around me, everyone stood up and started to leave the cafeteria.

“Do you know where you're going?” Dawn asked. “I can help you find your next class.”

“I'm fine,” I said. “Thanks for being so nice.”

She smiled. “Okay, see you later.”

I felt too good to move just yet. Lunch had really been just about perfect. The taste of the cookie lingered in my mouth. I sighed, closed my eyes, and sat back in my seat.

Whack!

I jumped.

“Get moving!”

I turned toward the shout.

Whack!

Mr. Brickner's cane rose and fell as he smacked the table after each sentence. “Don't dillydally, young lady. This is not a resort hotel. This is a school.
S-c-h-o-o-l.
Get moving. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, scrambling away from the table and hurrying into the hall.

Where all my goodness left me.

 

Five

MS. HYDE

Curses!

The stupid dizziness made me stumble, but just for a step or two. Then my head cleared. Where was I? I looked around. The hall was lined with pictures drawn by children. Crayon pictures of animals. How disgusting. Didn't children have anything better to do than draw? What a waste of time.

“Can I help you?”

I spun toward the voice. It was Mr. Rubinitski. How nice. He wanted to help me. Well, I didn't need anybody's help. I didn't want anybody's help. But if I didn't explain who I was, I knew there could be trouble. And I didn't want trouble, unless I was the one who made it. Obviously, he didn't recognize me. I'd changed, somehow. It didn't matter how or why I'd changed. I could tell from the way I felt that I'd changed for the better. I felt powerful and in control.

I looked past his shoulder, trying to spot something that would show my reflection. Nothing. That could wait. Right now, I had a nosy person to deal with. I looked straight into his eyes and he backed away. Good. “Miss Clevis had to leave suddenly,” I told him. “She was called away.”

“Oh dear. I hope she's okay,” he said. “I was just speaking with her before lunch.”

“She'll be fine. But I was brought in to substitute.” I smiled and he took another step back. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a class waiting.”

I walked away from him. He didn't say anything else. I had the feeling he wanted to hide from me. Good. Fear meant power.

I climbed the steps and headed toward the science class. A whole room full of students were chatting and babbling.

“Silence!”
I shouted as I walked in through the door.

Every head turned toward me. Good. Fear was in their eyes. I stormed over to the chalkboard and wrote
MS. HYDE
. “I'm your substitute,” I told them.

In the back of the room, a large boy laughed.

“You!” I shouted, pointing at him. “There's nothing funny going on. There will be no laughing in this class. Do you understand?”