Free The Best Man by Richard Peck Page B

Russell said.

13
    T hen the four of us were barreling through school. Past our fifth-grade door, where the troops were clapping for jumping jacks. It was kind of a long-ago sound for some reason. We stopped outside the sixth-grade door.
    I thought we might bust in. I planned to go last. But Mr. McLeod said, “Archer, go get Mrs. Dempsey. Raymond, go tell Mrs. Stanley where we are. I shouldn’t be keeping you guys out of class, but this will be short and sweet.”
    I wasn’t sure how to get Mrs. Dempsey. But in her outer office the secretary was playing video pokeron her phone, so I just strolled past her. I opened a door, and Mrs. Dempsey was looking up at me from her desk.
    â€œWhat is it, Archer Magill?”
    â€œMr. McLeod would like you to come down to the sixth grade. He can’t go in there because he’s not a real teacher yet. But a bunch of them tied Russell Beale to a faucet and wrote a word on his forehead.”
    I thought that covered it. I added “ma’am” because Mr. McLeod would. Mrs. Dempsey stared. Then she sort of erupted out of her chair and charged out the door and down the hall. I could just about keep even with her.
    â€¢ • •
    Leaving me and Raymond and Russell by the door, Mrs. Dempsey and Mr. McLeod walked down the hall for a little conference. He may have told her the word on Russell’s forehead. When they came back, Mrs. Dempsey barged into the sixth-grade room.
    The sixth graders were all over the place. The girls were in clumps of desks. The guys were up on the window ledges. Their party was to be in the afternoon. They were hanging out, waiting for that. They weren’t doing anything, but you couldn’t hear yourself think.
    The sight of Mrs. Dempsey silenced them, but it didn’t last. When Mr. McLeod walked in behind her, every girl in the room screamed. My ears rang all day. This was as close to him as they’d been. Out came the phones they weren’t supposed to have. Selfie sticks—everything. The room was a zoo, a mosh pit probably.
    Raymond and Russell and I came in last. They couldn’t have told one fifth grader from another, except the ones who’d recognize Russell.
    â€œInto your seats at once!” Mrs. Dempsey barked.
    The guys took their time, cool and barely moving. The girls were dressed for junior high already. They were showing some skin, and you wondered about tattoos.
    Their teacher, Mrs. Bickle, was older than the school. She was at her desk. A sudoku book was open in front of her.
    In a doomish voice Mrs. Dempsey said, “Mrs. Bickle, kindly step next door and ask Mrs. Stanley to join us. Then will you stay with her class in her absence?”
    Mrs. Bickle looked up. “I’ll get right on that, Velma.” She was so old, she called Mrs. Dempsey Velma. She shuffled out the door.
    Then here came Mrs. Stanley, a little beaded up along the hairline from working out. She looked for Russell. When she saw him, she reached out. “Here’s my lost sheep,” she said.
    â€œI wasn’t lost,” Russell said. “They came up behind me.”
    Mrs. Dempsey drew herself up. The sixth graders were waiting to find out what this was about.
    â€œChildren,” she began, “as this is your last day at Westside School and Mr. McLeod’s too, I’m sure you’ll be glad to meet him. After all, he’s put our school on the map.” She looked around. No maps here.
    â€œI know you envied the fifth graders their opportunity to learn from Mr. McLeod in Mrs. Stanley’s class. Now this is an opportunity of your own to ask him anything you’d like to know.”
    She was setting them up for something, but they didn’t suspect. We’re all Gifted, of course, but they were borderline.
    Mr. McLeod stepped forward. You never saw posture like that. He waited. Whimpering came from some of the girls. Finally a guy raised a casual hand. “Dude, you ever