The Waffler (7 page)

W
hen Monty's class
got to the satellite classroom the next morning he saw that Mrs. Calhoun had already changed the
TODAY IS
sign. Veterans Day had come and gone. Now the sign said
THE NEXT HOLIDAY IS: THANKSGIVING
. What Monty didn't see was Leo.

“I'm sorry, Monty,” said Mrs. Calhoun. “Leo is absent today.”

Leo being absent meant that Reading Buddies was pretty boring. But Monty was psyched for circle time. Wednesday afternoon circle was for talking about the Hidden Treasures Expedition, and Monty figured he had discovered a pretty big piece of treasure: his Buddy was a Scout! How cool was that?

“One two three,” sang Mrs. Tuttle after lunch as she clapped her hands three times, “eyes on me! Please come and sit criss-cross applesauce in our meeting circle.”

Monty sat down cross-legged on the carpet between Lagu Luka and Devin Hightower, wondering if he could somehow get extra credit for his treasure.

“Hi, Waffles,” said Devin.

“Hi, Waffles!” echoed Lagu.

Monty pasted a smile on his face. The smile was supposed to say,
Ha-ha, no big deal
. Except the smile was a total lie. He hated being called Waffles. Tristan Thompson-Brown had started it, and now everybody did it. The only person who didn't was Jasmine. Maybe he'd go sit next to her. He started to get up and by mistake stepped on Lagu's hand.

“Ouch!” yelped Lagu.

Monty got off Lagu's hand quick as he could, but by mistake he bumped into Devin on the other side. That should have been no big deal except Devin made a big joke by shouting, “Get off me, Greene!” and scrambling away, bumping into Emma Robinson. Emma pulled away from Devin and knocked heads with Ella Bakunda. And Emma and Ella both shouted, “Monty, stop!”

“Sorry,” said Monty, before he scooted around the circle and plopped down next to Jasmine.

“Monty!” said Mrs. Tuttle. “What do you think you're doing?”

Monty couldn't tell the whole truth—that he was getting away from kids calling him Waffles. He told half the truth. “I wanted to sit somewhere else.”

“You mean you picked a spot, and then changed your mind?”

“I guess,” said Monty.

“And do you see what happened?”

“I moved?” he asked.

“You hurt your classmates,” said Mrs. Tuttle.

Monty thought that was taking it a little far. Yes, he'd stepped on Lagu's hand, and he was sorry for that. But Devin had just been kidding around. And even though Emma and Ella hadn't liked getting bumped into, he didn't think they'd actually gotten hurt.

“Monty, come here, please,” said Mrs. Tuttle, and off came decision-aid number one: Monty shouldn't have changed his mind about where he was sitting.

Sometimes Monty couldn't believe grown-ups. How come they blamed you for something that wasn't your fault? He wouldn't have stepped on Lagu's hand in the first place if Lagu and Devin hadn't called him Waffles. And they wouldn't have called him Waffles if Principal Edwards hadn't called him a waffler. And Principal Edwards would never have called him a waffler if Mrs. Tuttle hadn't made Monty go to the office just because he threw a pencil. It was so messed up!

It was so messed up that Monty decided to make an even bigger mess. When Mrs. Tuttle asked if anybody had anything to share about their Buddy, he raised his hand. “I saw my Buddy march in the parade yesterday. And I have three more Buddies,” he announced.

Mrs. Tuttle gave him a funny look. “Everyone has one Buddy,” she corrected.

“Yeah but I'm, like, really popular,” said Monty. “All the kindergartners want to be my Buddy.”

The other kids laughed, and Mrs. Tuttle put her hand to her mouth and turned an imaginary key, which meant everybody was supposed to keep their mouths closed with their words inside. Nobody was supposed to talk except her.

“Monty, your Little Buddy is Leo Schwarz. You can't decide to change Buddies. That's not your decision to make.”

“I didn't change,” he said. “He's still my Buddy. I just added more Buddies.”

“Monty,” said Mrs. Tuttle. She paused, so he would know that what she was about to say was extra important. “We need cooperators in our classroom. Can you be a cooperator?”

“I am!” said Monty. “This is like being extra cooperative! Because the name of the Expedition is Hidden
Treasures
, not Hidden Treasure, right? So the more Little Buddies I have the more I'm finding Hidden Treasures!”

Jasmine spoke up, “It wasn't really fair, 'cause some of the kids didn't get Big Buddies, and they really wanted one!”

Then Tristan Thompson-Brown said that it wasn't fair for some kids to have more than one Buddy, so he wanted another one, too. Then more kids started talking out of turn. Mrs. Tuttle raised her hand in the air to signal for silence. She didn't get silence, so she rose and walked to her desk and rang her special mallet on her special xylophone.

A chime sounded through the room.
Gong
. A few kids quieted down. She rang it again—
gong
—and a few more kids stopped talking. After the third
gong
, the room was silent. So everybody heard when Mrs. Tuttle asked Monty to come to her desk and plucked off the second Band-Aid for changing his mind about his Kindergarten Buddy. Monty was about to point out that that wasn't fair—he hadn't changed his mind about Leo—when Mrs. Tuttle did something even more unfair. She yanked off the third Band-Aid for changing his mind about being a cooperator.

“That's not fair!” he objected. “You're taking two Band-Aids for the same thing, and it isn't even wrong!”

Mrs. Tuttle shook her head, as if she was truly sad that Monty was such an uncooperative, indecisive kid. “Monty, I do not have time for this. You may go down to the office and tell Mrs. Tracy that you need to speak with the social worker.” She pointed to the door.

Monty stepped out of the classroom and into the hallway. Before and after school the hall was jammed with kids and their backpacks, but not now. Now it was empty. It felt strange, being in the hallway all by himself. Walking slowly—because the last thing he wanted to do was talk with the social worker—he passed the fifth graders' yellow lockers and the fourth graders' green lockers and the third graders' orange lockers. At the top of the stairs he stopped by the big window that overlooked the playground. The rain yesterday had ripped the last leaves from the branches, and all the trees stood bare and brown, like stick figures in a drawing. This is a tree. This is a person. This is a house.

Some kids got to say, “Let's play at my house,” and it meant only one thing. They had one house. One home. One family. They didn't know how good they had it! Home used to be the house where Monty lived with his mom and his dad and Sierra. Then there were two different houses. Mom's house and dad's house. There were two different families. The Mom-Bob-Aisha-Sierra family and the Dad-Beth-Audrey-Sierra family. The only thing that stayed the same was Sierra. Who didn't even care about keeping things the same!

“Monty! Hey, wait up!”

It was Lagu, holding a block of wood painted blue—the hallway bathroom pass.

“What do you want
?
” demanded Monty. “To make fun of me some more?”

“I didn't know!” said Lagu.

“Know what?”

“I didn't know you didn't like Waffles,” said Lagu. “I thought it was okay 'cause those guys are your friends.”

“That's pretty stupid,” said Monty. “How would you like it if I called you Pancake?” he demanded. “Or French Toast?”

Lagu made a serious face, as if he was seriously trying to think about how being called Pancake would make him feel. He held it until suddenly Monty burst out laughing, and then Lagu began laughing, and for a minute they both had a wicked bad fit of the giggles. Then, quickly, before somebody heard and came to investigate, they both pulled it together. They were alone in the hallway, which they shouldn't be. Lagu was supposed to be in the bathroom, and Monty was supposed to be in the office.

Except Monty suddenly decided he wasn't going to the office. He didn't want to find out what happened after the third Band-Aid came off. He wasn't going to talk to the social worker. He had somewhere else to go.

“Hey, Lagu,” he said. “Want to do me a favor?”

“Sure!” agreed Lagu. “Like what?”

Monty told Lagu his idea. They would go downstairs. Lagu would go into the office and get Mrs. Tracy's attention so she would have her eye on Lagu, not on the window that overlooked the lobby. Not on Monty, sneaking out.

“You're
leaving
?” asked Lagu, a note of awe in his voice. Kids never left school during the day. Not by themselves.

“I'm leaving,” said Monty.

“Wow,” said Lagu. “You're going to be in so much trouble!”

“I'm already in trouble,” said Monty. “You in?”

Nodding, Lagu whispered, “I'm in.”

They tiptoed down the big stairwell to the front lobby, which was empty. Lagu hurried into the office and started waving his arms around, getting Mrs. Tracy's attention so her back was to the big glass window.
Now!

Monty pushed against the big, heavy doors, feeling every second as if a troll was going to come rushing out and shout, “You can't cross over my bridge!”

But no shout came.

O
utside, the air
felt washed clean after yesterday's rain. The sky was bright blue, as if it had been scrubbed. Monty started walking away. He couldn't believe how easy it was to leave! How come kids didn't walk out all the time? He kept going, past the playground, past the weedy, jungly place between where the playground ended and the houses began, and on down North Street. He was home free!

He wasn't home free.

Or, he was home free for about an hour.

“Monty,” said Mrs. Schwarz when she answered his knock on the door. “Is school out already? Down, Noodle!” she said, holding onto the golden retriever's collar so it wouldn't jump on Monty. She had the same golden red hair as the dog. “Come on in. Leo will be so happy to see you.”

“Is he sick?”

“Not exactly.” Lowering her voice, she started to explain, “We just got some big news this morning, and Leo was kind of upset—” when Leo's voice drowned out his mom's.

“You saw me!” Leo came bounding down the stairs and wrapped his arms around Monty's waist. “You saw me! You saw me! You saw me!”

“I saw you, Scout guy.”

“I'm a Lion Cub!”

“Totally,” agreed Monty. “I totally saw you being a Lion Cub Scout.”

“That was so sweet of you, Monty,” said Mrs. Schwarz with a big smile. Still smiling, she looked down at the watch on her wrist. When she looked up again, she wasn't smiling anymore, but all she said was, “Why don't you two play while I make you a snack? Nachos sound good?”

Monty checked out Leo's room and read Leo a story, and then the nachos were ready. Monty had just put the last cheesy chip in his mouth when there was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Schwarz went to answer it. Monty's hour of freedom was over.

“Thank you so much for calling,” said his dad in a grim voice.

“Monty!” said his mom.

And the policewoman got on her radio. “Dispatch? This is twenty-five sixteen. My forty is 267 North Street. I've got the missing boy.”

“Monty,” said his mom, “what are you
doing
here?”

“I”—began Monty, but couldn't finish his answer because his parents kept lobbing questions at him.

“What made you think you could just walk out of school?” demanded his dad. “Do you know how much trouble you caused?”

“Do you know how worried we were about you?” asked his mom.

The policewoman said, “The law says you need to stay in school.”

Monty suddenly recognized her. She was Officer Friendly! She was the one who spoke at school assemblies about things like safety. And graffiti.

“You know what happens to kids who start breaking the law
now
?” asked Officer Friendly. She shook her head, as if she didn't want to describe the path Monty was on—one day you leave school to go see your Reading Buddy, and the next thing you know you're a hardened criminal.

All the answers to all the questions Monty had been asked bounced around in his head. He was here because he couldn't take kids calling him Waffles anymore. Or Mrs. Tuttle ripping Band-Aids off his bare skin.

“I'm on a field trip,” he finally said. “There's nothing to worry about and I'm totally safe.”

“Well, the field trip is
off
,” said Officer Friendly.

“Don't!” shouted Leo, lunging for the policewoman. “Don't yell at him!”

Mrs. Schwarz grabbed Leo and pulled him back, wrapping her arms around him. “I'm sorry, officer,” she said.

“It's all right,” said the policewoman. She stowed her radio in a little pocket on her belt and said that since the parents were here and Monty was safe, she would be on her way.

When she had gone Mrs. Schwarz loosened her grip on Leo and turned to Monty's parents. “I just want to say what an incredible kid you have. Leo talks about him all the time, how he has the best Big Buddy of anybody. We don't have any family around here, so it's extra special for Leo to have an older boy to spend time with.”

Monty didn't know that. Sometimes he felt like he had too
much
family. But he couldn't imagine not having any family at all. That sounded lonely. Nobody had asked a question, but suddenly Monty got the same feeling as when he had the right answer to a question. He knew what to do next! Because he knew the next holiday!

“Mom—Dad! What house am I at for Thanksgiving this year?” he asked. “Can Leo come?” He worked up his best version of puppy-dog eyes. “Please?”

Monty's mom and dad gave each other a should-we-tell-him-about-that-thing? glance, and his dad gave a quick nod.

“We're doing something a little different this year,” said Monty's mom. “We're celebrating together.” She turned to Mrs. Schwarz, “And we'd love to have you join us, if you don't have other plans.”

Leo barked and tucked his hands under his chin.

“I think that means we'd love to,” said Leo's mom.

“Great,” said Monty's dad. Then he turned back to Monty. “Which doesn't mean you're not in trouble.”

Late that afternoon Monty and his parents went back to Casco Elementary for a meeting with Principal Edwards and Mrs. Tuttle to work out exactly how much trouble he was in. Everybody sat around a table in a little room Monty had never been in before. His feet dangled from the grown-up-size chair, not quite reaching the floor. All the kids had gone home, and the building was quiet. Behind the empty bus circle the sun was the color of an orange Creamsicle.

“I'm very upset,” began Monty's mom.

“I understand,” said Principal Edwards, “and I am, too.” Her yellow glasses bobbed up and down on the tip of her nose as she nodded, explaining that this had never happened before and she would make sure it never happened again. She had already scheduled an all-staff meeting about safety protocols.

“That's not what I meant,” said Monty's mom. “Yes—we're all upset that Monty was able to walk out of school. But what I'm really upset about is
why
he wanted to walk out. Those Band-Aids.”

Monty's dad chimed in. “Those are kind of over-the-top,” he agreed. “I'm not saying there's not a problem with Monty making up his mind. But it seems like the Band-Aids aren't much of a solution.”

Monty's mom was sticking up for him—no surprise—she'd wanted to talk to Mrs. Tuttle from the first minute she knew about the decision-aids. But—big surprise—so was his dad! Now, what would the principal say?

Principal Edwards took off her yellow glasses and polished the lenses with a tissue, then mounted them on her nose again. “I agree,” she said. “That strategy hasn't been effective. I think we should discontinue the decision-aids. What do you think, Mrs. Tuttle?”

Monty held his breath, waiting to hear what his teacher would say. Behind her, through the window, he could see the Creamsicle sun melting, turning the whole sky orange.

Mrs. Tuttle swept her long black hair over her shoulder. “I agree, too.”

Monty was so surprised he hardly listened to what his parents and the principal were saying now, but he could hear the cheerful notes of their voices.

Monty knew better than to feel cheerful. He knew that Mrs. Tuttle had just gone along because the principal was making her. And that even if his teacher was smiling and nodding now, during the meeting, she wasn't going to give up that easily. She might have to stop sticking actual Band-Aids on him, but there was no way she wouldn't stick to her goal. It was only November. If it took Mrs. Tuttle all year, she was going to turn Monty into a mind-maker-upper.