Jeffrey always liked to start off the day by asking a stupid question. Sometimes that irritated a teacher so much she wouldn’t call on Jeffrey for the rest of the day—which is exactly what he wanted.
However, Mrs. Merrin wasn’t that kind of teacher. In fact, Jeffrey couldn’t figure out what kind of teacher she was. All he knew was that she wasvery pretty. And she was very unpredictable.
“I’ll give you three guesses to tell me what we’re doing today, Jeffrey,” the teacher said, brushing the chalk dust off her hands.
“I’ll save my guesses for the quiz,” answered Jeffrey.
“I was afraid of that,” Mrs. Merrin said. “Well, class—”
Suddenly, a window shade in the back of the classroom snapped up. Mrs. Merrin looked at the window and shrugged. “I wonder how that happened,” she said. She walked over and pulled the shade down again.
But Jeffrey knew what had happened. He knew that window shades don’t just roll themselves up—unless they’re helped by a
ghost!
There, near the windowsill, two hands appeared in midair. And then two arms appeared and then the feet and the legs. Right before Jeffrey’s eyes, Max, the third-grade ghost, was checking in. He looked so real that Jeffrey still couldn’t believe that he was the only person who could see the ghost.
Max dressed the way third-grade kids dressed in the 1950s—because that’s when he had lived. He always wore a long-sleeved flannel plaid shirt that was buttoned up to the collar. And he had baggy blue jeans rolled at the cuffs.
“What’s shaking, Daddy-o,” Max said as he floated toward the front of the room. Max had a funny way of talking, but Jeffrey was used to it. Max picked up a piece of chalk and looked at the chalkboard. Then he started filling in the blanks in Mrs. Merrin’s quiz.
Jeffrey shook his head and waved his arms to try to stop Max. But Max just smiled and said, “Stay cool, Daddy-o. Your teacher will love this. Trust me.” Then he went on writing on the board.
“Okay, gang,” said Mrs. Merrin. “I’d like you to take out a piece of paper and a pencil and—” She stopped in mid-sentence. Her eyes were staring at her quiz on the chalkboard. Each question had been filled in with Jeffrey’s name!
Mrs. Merrin put her hands on her hips. Then she began to read some of the questions aloud.
“The second president of the United States was
Jeffrey Becker Jeffrey Becker
made the famous horseback ride, shouting ‘The British are coming.’ The first flag of the United States was sewn by
Jeffrey Becker.”
Mrs. Merrin walked over to Jeffrey’s desk. “So far, you’ve got all of the answers wrong,” she said, “but maybe you can answer my next question.”
Everyone in the class listened quietly.
“Why did you do that, Jeffrey?” Mrs. Merrin asked.
Max sat on the edge of the teacher’s desk and winked at Jeffrey. “This is getting good, man,” Max said. “She thinks it’s a regular riot.”
Jeffrey didn’t know what to do. He
did
know it wouldn’t do any good to tell the truth. He imagined himself saying, “There’s an invisible ghost sitting on your desk and he’s the one who wrote on the board. Not me.” But Jeffrey knew he couldn’t say that. So instead Jeffrey said, “Well, I’ve always wanted a place in history. I was just trying out a few of them.”
“Jeffrey,” said Mrs. Merrin, brushing a strand of his hair out of his eyes, “I’m afraid your true place in history is with me—after school.”
“You mean I have a detention?” Jeffrey asked.
“Hey, that’s great, man,” Max said to Jeffrey. “You know what this means, don’t you? She digs you so much she wants you to spend more time with her. Just like all
my
teachers used to do.”
Jeffrey sat with his elbows on his desk and his chin on his palms. “Great,” he said glumly.
Later that day, when detention was over, Jeffrey found Max waiting outside the school.
“Hey, Jeffrey, I’ve got a really cool idea,”
Antony Beevor, Artemis Cooper