Carter averys tricky fou.., p.2
Carter Avery's Tricky Fourth-Grade Year, page 2
Boy, did that make me grin. But then Ms. Krane turned her pointy glasses on me and I shrank in her teacher chair. “It’s yours as long as you can handle sitting in it properly,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” I hollered, and saluted, sitting up tall again.
“I’m your teacher, not your drill sergeant, so please don’t salute me. And I’m much too young to be called ma’am, so please don’t do that again either.”
“But you’re old,” I countered, unable to stop myself.
“Old enough to know better, but definitely not old,” she said.
That made my forehead wrinkle again and Missy Gerber snickered. I wanted to tell Missy to shut up, but I did a smart thing and slapped my hand over my mouth before those words jumped out. If Ms. Krane was getting mad at me for saluting her and calling her ma’am, we were in for a long year together.
3
TWO TRUTHS AND ONE LIE
The Owl began swooping around the classroom, passing out paper and pencils. I stuck both hands in my pockets and played with my marbles. What I really wanted to do was spin in Ms. Krane’s chair but then I’d probly lose my seat. Fidgeting with things sometimes helped me sit still—sorta. Sitting still was really hard for me. Even harder than keeping quiet. Maybe.
“What’re we supposed to do with this?” I blurted after Ms. Krane dropped a piece of blank computer paper in front of me. My hands were too busy with my marbles to cover my mouth and stop those words.
“For starters, I’d like you to print your name at the top,” Ms. Krane answered. “And please make it legible.”
“What’s that mean?” I bellowed, letting more words jump free. At least I wasn’t spinning.
“Legible means make it neat so that we can read it,” Ms. Krane explained.
“Nothing about Carter is neat,” Missy Gerber groaned.
You know something, that girl hadn’t been in my class since first grade and I didn’t miss her. Even if she wasn’t trying to be funny, she got laughs.
“Missy, if you don’t have something kind to say, then please keep your comments to yourself,” Ms. Krane scolded.
Boy, that made me sit still—and I didn’t even need my marbles. I’d never had a teacher stick up for me—and Ms. Krane had done it twice already. Yup, she was mean. Real mean. But since she was being mean to Missy Gerber, I liked it.
“Now for the fun part,” Ms. Krane continued, confusing me again. There wasn’t supposed to be any fun in her room. “I’d like each of you to write down three things about yourself. But…listen carefully. Two of your statements must be true, and one must be a lie. You can list them in any order you’d like, the lie first, second, or third, but you must have two truths and one lie. Once you’ve finished, we’ll begin sharing and try to guess which are the truths and which is the lie about our classmates.”
Yes, I blurted out stuff I probly shouldn’t say sometimes, but it was always the truth. I never lied. Never. But Ms. Krane was giving us permission to lie now. She was asking us to do it. This was gonna be fun. I had my three things right away, but getting them written down was gonna take me a while ’cause I wasn’t very good at writing. It was hard for me to make the letters. And doing it that legerble way that the Owl wanted made it even harder.
“Do I have any volunteers to share first?” Ms. Krane asked.
“Me!” I shouted, remembering to raise my hand. I waved my arm in the air, but Ms. Krane said I needed to have my statements written down before I could go. Told you she was mean. So annoying Missy Gerber went instead ’cause she was a fast writer and a know-it-all.
This is what she said:
I’ve had perfect attendance my whole life. (I knew that was true ’cause she bragged about it every chance she got.)
I’ve never received a grade below an A. (I also knew that was true ’cause she bragged about it every time we got report cards.)
I’ve read the Mr. Terupt series six times.
“No, you haven’t!” I yelled. “That’s a lie.”
“You’re right,” Missy giggled. “I’ve only read it five times. But I’m on number six now.”
If I had to write my truth about that girl, I woulda said Missy Gerber is annoying—with all capital letters.
Kyle Pattie was the next to go. We guessed his lie too. He loved sports and tried saying he’d met Tom Brady. He only wished that was true. Mary Fergus went after that and we guessed that she hadn’t been to all fifty states, but she had been to thirty-one. And Vanessa Tucker didn’t own a horse.
One of the coolest parts of Ms. Krane’s game was how I learned something new about my classmates—even from their lies. I learned Kyle’s favorite football player was Tom Brady, and Mary liked traveling, and Vanessa, besides wanting a horse, loved animals, same as me. And Missy Gerber was super annoying—but I already knew that.
“Carter, would you like to share yours next?” Ms. Krane asked.
I sighed. “I can’t. I still don’t have mine written down.”
“Let me help you.” Ms. Krane came over and had me whisper my three things in her ear. She gave a little laugh when she heard them and then she wrote my two truths and one lie down real quick. That was the opposite of mean. That was nice of her.
“Okay,” she said. “Now you can share.”
4
MY THREE THINGS
I hopped out of Ms. Krane’s chair and held my paper in front of me with both hands. These were my three things. But I’m not going to tell you which was my lie.
One time I ate a worm.
One time I ate a worm with ketchup.
I have a sister.
“Ew!” Missy Gerber whined. “You ate a worm? Disgusting!”
“Ew!” the rest of the class joined in.
“Nuh-uh!” I exclaimed. “I ate a worm with ketchup!”
Missy and everyone else stuck their tongues out and gagged, but Ms. Krane was smiling. I was the only one to fool the class with my lie.
I laughed and jumped back in my chair. I was so excited I accidentally spun around a few times, but Ms. Krane didn’t yell.
“Would you like to hear my list next?” she asked us.
“Yeah!” everyone cheered.
I stopped spinning. I didn’t know she’d made a list too. Teachers usually want to make sure you’re doing your work, not do it with you.
Here’s what Ms. Krane said:
I love books.
I’m pregnant.
“You’re not pregnant!” I yelled. I didn’t even let her finish.
“Really? How can you be so sure?”
“ ’Cause you don’t look fat!”
There was lots of giggling after I said that—but it was the truth.
“Suppose I’m just early in my pregnancy,” Ms. Krane wondered aloud. “A pregnant woman isn’t big and round from the very beginning. It takes time to grow a belly like that, you know.”
My forehead wrinkled. She had a good point, but I still didn’t think she was pregnant. “Yeah, but if you were pregnant, you wouldn’t be our teacher next year.”
“Carter, a pregnant woman can work,” Missy Gerber groaned.
Ms. Krane nodded.
Missy Gerber was such a know-it-all.
“You can’t be pregnant,” I argued. “You don’t even like kids.” That was something else I’d heard.
The room fell silent.
“Funny you should say that,” Ms. Krane replied, “because the last statement on my list says, I don’t like kids.”
“Told you,” I bragged.
“Yes, but if you’re convinced I love books, then that means only one of my last two statements can be true,” Ms. Krane said, reminding me how the game worked.
She had to love books. You couldn’t be a teacher if you didn’t love books. That’s a rule. But could you be a teacher if you didn’t like kids? My head was starting to hurt.
“Does that mean you’re having a baby?” I shouted. I wanted to know and I didn’t want Missy Gerber to be right.
“When you see me after summer, you’ll know for sure.”
I didn’t have enough patience for that. “Why can’t you just tell us now?”
The PA system crackled from above and Ms. Krane pointed at the ceiling. “Because we’re out of time.”
Principal Ryan’s voice came over the loudspeaker. Normally, I liked it when that happened ’cause it meant I was done with sitting still for the day, but I was mad this time ’cause I wanted Ms. Krane to tell us the answer, so I spun in her chair.
Principal Ryan did her job and wished us all a safe and happy summer with lots of reading. All the stuff a principal was supposed to say. And then she started calling buses. Mine was number nine. Mr. Wilson was my driver. He was always the last to arrive ’cause his first run with the middle schoolers took him the longest.
Ms. Krane walked around collecting our papers and saying goodbye to everyone as they left. I wheeled her chair over to the window so that I could watch for Mr. Wilson and the big yellow taxi. That was what he called our bus. When he pulled into the pickup circle, I jumped out of Ms. Krane’s chair and made a beeline for the door, but the Owl was ready and stopped me before I got there.
“We do not run in our classroom,” she said. Then she wrapped her wing around my shoulder and walked with me the rest of the way. “Have a good summer, Carter Avery,” she added, releasing me.
“You too,” I yelled back, and ’cause her rule was only about the classroom, I was already running down the hall.
5
MR. WILSON
I burst outside and bounded up the bus steps and slid into my seat behind Mr. Wilson. He had me sit in the front ’cause that way I steered clear of any trouble, and also ’cause we liked to talk on our rides. He said I kept him young even though I didn’t know how.
“Mr. Wilson, have you ever heard stories about someone and then after you meet them you find out the stories maybe were wrong?”
He glanced at me in his rearview mirror and smirked. “Yeah, now that you mention it, I can think of a time that’s happened before.”
Hmm. So it was possible.
“Mr. Wilson, are owls sneaky tricksters?”
“I don’t know about tricksters, but folks say they’re full of wisdom. And they can be good at hiding too.”
Hmm. So maybe Ms. Krane was hiding her pregnant belly. And maybe she was trying to trick us into thinking she could be nice.
“Mr. Wilson, do teachers have to like kids?”
“You’re sure doing a lot of thinking for a boy that just finished his last day of school. But your mind is always busy, isn’t it?”
“Grams says I never slow down.”
Mr. Wilson laughed. “She’s right about that.”
“But do you know if teachers need to like kids? Is that a rule?”
“I suppose they don’t have to like all the kids all the time, but they always love them.”
Mr. Wilson was being tricky now ’cause that was really confusing. I’d have to ask Grams about owls. She’d know because old people had lots of wisdom too. Plus, we were at my stop, so I couldn’t ask Mr. Wilson any more questions. He opened the bus door and I hopped up from my seat.
“Have a great summer, young man. I’ll be eager to hear what you find out about owls.”
“See you later,” I yelled as I jumped over the last step and hit the ground running.
“Thanks for the warning!” Mr. Wilson hollered, which was his favorite joke.
Grams called it sarcasm. I called it funny—and special, ’cause he only used it with me. I liked Mr. Wilson a lot.
6
BRYNN AND TORRIE
I ran into the house and kicked my sneakers off and threw my bag in the corner. Something smelled really good.
“Yum!” I yelled, sliding across the kitchen floor in my socks. “Cookies!”
“There he is,” Grams cheered. “Happy summer.”
I spun past Grams and twirled around my sister before grabbing a warm snickerdoodle from the plate on the counter. I bent down and shared a piece with Shelby, our basset hound. She usually greeted me at the door when I got home even though she was getting old and moving from one room to the next took lots of energy, but snickerdoodles were her favorite too. She had a belly that hung close to the floor to prove it.
“Grams, are owls tricksters?” I asked after swallowing my half and standing back up.
“Oh boy. You got Ms. Krane for your teacher, didn’t you?” Brynn said, pulling a fresh batch of cookies out of the oven. I’d made the mistake of telling my sister about Ms. Krane’s nickname.
Brynn was going into eleventh grade. Shelby was her dog first. Brynn was a good sister but she always thought she knew everything and had to know everything, which could get annoying, but she was nowhere near as annoying as Missy Gerber.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” I groaned.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” she mimicked.
“Brynn, that’s enough,” Grams scolded.
Grams could see I was getting upset and didn’t want us arguing, but it’s really hard for me to stop once Brynn starts in. “You don’t know everything,” I shot back at my sister. “You’ve never even seen my teacher.”
Brynn shrugged. “So. I’ve heard all about her.”
“Yeah, did you know she’s got a giant mark on her face?”
“Pfft. Everyone knows that,” she scoffed.
“It’s not a scar,” I said, which was probly what she’d heard. “It’s a part-jelly stain.”
“What?!” Grams and Brynn both howled.
“A part-jelly stain,” I said again. “She was born with it.”
They laughed. “A port-wine stain,” Grams said, correcting me. “That’s a birthmark.”
Brynn laughed more, so I stuck my tongue out at her and grabbed another one of her cookies.
“Are owls tricksters?” I asked again, going back to my first question.
“I don’t know,” Grams said. “And why the sudden interest in owls?”
“ ’Cause Ms. Krane is the Owl,” I explained, which made Brynn smirk ’cause she thought she was so smart. “Her real name is Olivia,” I continued, “but all the kids call her Owl-ivia ’cause she can twist her head all the way around.”
Grams made a face. “Sounds like we better make a trip to the library. I’m no expert on owls, but if you’ve got one for your teacher, then we should probably read up on them.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
Going to the library would make Principal Ryan happy, plus I liked it there. Grams had been taking me and Brynn to the library since we were little. They had this really cool jungle gym area for a reading nook. You could crawl inside a tunnel or sit in a wagon or climb into a tree fort to look at your books. Reading was one of the few things that could get me to sit still—not for super long, and only if I was interested, but it was way better than dumb writing or boring math—especially if there was something I needed to research.
Brynn didn’t go with us to the library much anymore ’cause she and her bestie, Torrie, had jobs and were on the swim team and were real busy with high school. Torrie was Brynn’s best friend since forever. They were always together. So much so that sometimes it felt like I had two sisters.
“Hi!” a voice called from the front door. “Something sure smells good.”
Speak of the devil. It was Torrie. She came inside and joined us in the kitchen, snatching one of my cookies. She was here so often that she didn’t even need to knock or ring the doorbell anymore. She just let herself in.
“Guess what?” Brynn said. “CJ’s got Ms. Krane for his teacher next year.”
“Huh,” Torrie gasped. “The Owl,” she teased.
“CJ was just telling us about the giant birthmark Ms. Krane has on her face,” Brynn said.
“You don’t say,” Torrie replied.
“Yup. And Ms. Krane is either pregnant or she doesn’t like kids, but I don’t know which yet,” I added.
Brynn and Torrie shared a look, then glanced at Grams.
“That does sound tricky,” Grams said.
Brynn pulled out the last batch of snickerdoodles and turned the oven off. She slid the cookies onto the cooling rack and then she and Torrie went to get ready for work.
I should’ve been wondering about that look Brynn and Torrie shared, and the way they quick glanced at Grams like there was some big secret I didn’t know about—’cause there was. But me and Shelby were too busy licking our chops. Brynn’s cookies were the best.
Part II
SUMMER
7
SUMMER READING
So my summer vacation started with me and Grams making a trip to the library, but even I knew not to go telling everybody that ’cause it wasn’t gonna sound real cool compared to Mary Fergus going to Disney or wherever. I liked visiting the library, but that was something I only told Grams—and Brynn when she tagged along.
When we got there, Mr. Todd helped me and Grams track down books about owls. Mr. Todd was the youth librarian. I’d known him for a bunch of years now. He was really nice and smart—but even he couldn’t tell me if owls were tricksters.
“Maybe you’ll find the answer to your question here,” he said, pointing to the shelf with owl books.
“Thanks, Mr. Todd.”
