Freaked Out (2 page)

I
t was only third period. But Maeve could tell that her least favorite person in the whole world, Mr. Sherman, was about to ruin a perfectly good day. It all began with his snarky, “Good morning, class. I hope you had a fun weekend, since you will surely want to spend this week studying.” Maeve was convinced that the teacher everyone secretly called “the Crow” was looking directly at her when he made the announcement.

“Why would we want to do that?” Dillon Johnson whispered to Maeve. Neither she nor Dillon was the greatest math student in the world. Dillon would totally rather have fun than study, and Maeve had decided a long time ago that math was just about the hardest thing in the world to figure out. Whoever invented the stuff anyway? she wondered as she twirled a stray red curl that refused to stay behind her ear no matter how many times she placed it there.

“Mr. S, I can't study this week. It would interfere with
my chess playing,” Pete Wexler announced, sitting up straight at his desk (something he never did). Everyone knew he was faking it. Pete Wexler had never even seen a chessboard. He spent all his time on the soccer field or the basketball court. Chess was for nerds, according to Pete.

“Be quiet, Pete, I want…” Before Lisa Chen, the best math student in level C, could finish her sentence, the door opened and in skidded Henry Yurt, late pass in hand. The Yurtmeister was sporting an enormous green Dr. Seuss hat. Everyone snickered as Mr. Sherman raced to snatch the hat off the Yurtmeister's head. But Henry, too nimble for the Crow, ducked, slipped, and tumbled down the aisle, arms and legs akimbo.

The class erupted in raucous laughter. Mr. Sherman rapped on the desk with his ruler, but no one was listening. The Yurtmeister was the star of the show.
Maybe
, Maeve thought,
I should tell Henry to take acting with me. He's such a scene stealer
.

“Yurtster, you are one brave man,” Pete Wexler said in admiration as he watched Henry Yurt jump to his feet.

“Thank you, thank you.” The Yurtmeister bowed.

“Mr. Yurt, or should I say,
Thing One
, please take your seat. I have had enough of your antics for today.” Mr. Sherman's reference to Thing One from
The Cat in the Hat
and Henry's solemn face broke everyone up all over again. Even Maeve, who was still waiting anxiously for the rest of Mr. Sherman's announcement, chuckled.

Maeve nibbled on her fingernail. A whole week of studying could potentially ruin her plans. Plus, it meant
the unthinkable was coming. The thing that made Maeve chew her nails and want to curl up on her bed with her comforter covering everything but the tip of her nose. The nightmare on Beacon Street…MATH TEST!

She glanced over at Isabel, who was still smiling at the Yurtmeister's antics, which included twirling his Seuss hat on his arm. Suddenly, true to his name, the Crow swooped in and snatched the ridiculous green monstrosity out of the air before the Yurtmeister could grab it.

“Playtime is over, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Sherman smirked, obviously pleased with his capture.

“Do you think Mr. Sherman is immature or something?” Maeve whispered to Avery, who was sitting behind her.

“Duh, do you think?” Avery responded. “Look at him. He thinks he just won the state b-ball championship.”

Maeve turned and gave her friend a quick smile. Everything was sports with Avery.

“Eyes front, Ms. Taylor-Kaplan.”

Maeve blushed. The Crow loved to embarrass kids, but did he have to get her name wrong?

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. The head of the math department waved at Mr. Sherman to step outside. The Crow warned the class to stay focused. On what, Maeve wasn't quite sure.

Two seats away, Joline Kaminsky, chief whisperer and assistant to the chief Queen of Mean, Anna McMasters, turned to give Maeve her perfected you-are-so-uncool-and-dweebish look.

When Joline turned her back on Maeve, Dillon blew a
spitball at the back of her head. Joline spun around so fast that she looked like an alien out of a
Star Wars
movie.

“Wow, Joline,” goofed Josh Trentini. “Can you do that maneuver again? My uncle is in special effects in Hollywood. I bet he could use you as a model.”

“Oh, your uncle must be George Lucas 'cause you look just like Chewbacca,” Joline shot back. Avery had to laugh. Joline was so quick with her comebacks. But as Avery gave a sidelong glance at Josh, she realized he really did kind of look like Chewbacca. He was tall for his age and big, plus his hair was long and bushy. Josh looked angry, but Avery knew from years of teasing from her two big brothers that you better not dish it out if you can't take getting something back. Josh would have to learn that. But she did feel sorry for him. His cheeks were bright red.

In a flash, the Yurtmeister was on his feet.

“My fellow citizens. We must stop these ridiculous behaviors.” Leaning over, he grabbed his green hat off the desk, threw it into the air and bobbed and weaved so that he was able to catch it perfectly on his head. The boys in the back clapped and whistled, but Lisa Chen was annoyed.

“You want double homework, Henry?” she scolded. “You're going to get us all in trouble.”

Everyone quieted down. Double math homework was too awful to imagine. A sheepish Henry slunk back to his seat. Getting everyone in trouble wouldn't win the class president any votes in the next election.

Flipping her curls over her shoulder, Maeve gave Dillon her best red carpet smile. It was so awfully nice of him to blow a spitball at Joline in her defense. Dillon
could be so dashing sometimes. Perhaps, she fantasized, he really was a prince in disguise.

Unnerved by Maeve's megawatt smile, Dillon slumped back in his chair and promptly fell over onto the floor. Maeve shrugged. Perhaps dashing was not quite the right word to describe Dillon.

When he heard the crash, Mr. Sherman marched back into the room and began rapping on his desk with his ruler. “Order in the classroom,” he cawed.

Maeve glanced around to see if she could catch Isabel's eye. She wished that Isabel would look over and see that her desperate friend was in need of an Isabel smile.

Mr. Sherman raised his black brow and turned his dark eyes toward the class.
Something wicked this way comes
. Maeve shuddered, remembering a scary movie by that title that she had snuck into her dad's movie theater to watch. “Now that Mr. Yurt has finished his Oscar-worthy performance…”

Whistles arose from the class but they were immediately quelled by Mr. Sherman's dancing unibrow—the big black thing that really did make him look like a crow ready to swoop down on unsuspecting prey. “As I was saying,” he glanced around the class, making certain students, like Maeve, Isabel, and a short kid with freckles who always sat in the back, squirm in their seats. “You must plan your time carefully this week.”

This time Maeve was positive that he was specifically referring to her. After all, she reasoned, she was the worst math student in the class, maybe even the whole school. Perhaps they would put her in
People
magazine for being
the worst seventh-grade math student in the entire United States of America.

“Spill it, man,” a boy in the back suddenly hissed.

“Who said that?” The Crow spun around but no one would look at him or answer. Major unwritten rule at Abigail Adams Junior High: Never “rat” on a fellow student in class.

“Every one of you needs to pass the mid-term math test I'm giving you on Friday. The test will cover everything you've learned so far this year.” The Crow paused, wrinkled his brow, and for effect added, “Just think how much fun we're all going to have.” This time he looked directly at Maeve.

Everyone saw it. Isabel gave her a little half smile that said, “I feel your pain.”
There was something so comforting about hanging out with Isabel,
thought Maeve. She had a knack for making everyone feel like that just because they couldn't do something well didn't mean they were stupid or anything. Maeve was glad that Isabel had moved from Detroit and was now one of the Beacon Street Girls.

As the Crow paced back and forth spouting something about math being a thing of beauty, Maeve wondered whether all math teachers were this weird. She shivered even though the room was warm and she had on her favorite pink velvet hoodie—the one Ms. Razzberry Pink had told her was all the rage in New York City.

Out of the blue, Maeve's breath started to come in little spurts. It finally sank in. A test—a huge math test. The worst, evilest, nastiest, most stomachache-giving thing in the whole wide world was looming before her.

Well, what if she didn't pass the test? Maeve contemplated. Would that be so bad? After all, she was Maeve Kaplan-Taylor, nodding to her fans on the red carpet, Oscar in hand. Who needs mathematics? She raised her head imperiously. What twelve year old was supposed to remember what she'd learned a month ago or two weeks ago, anyway?

Maeve looked around the room. Everyone else was writing things down in their notebooks about what was going to be on the test. Gosh, what had she missed? She glanced over at the clock. Hopefully the bell would ring before the Crow could pounce and ask her a question. He was going row by row now, forcing kids to come to the board and solve a problem. Her absolute worst fear.

All of a sudden, Mr. Sherman appeared in front of her.

“Ms. Taylor-Kaplan…”

Maeve gulped. How did he get here that fast? Why did he always get her name wrong? He was two rows back the last time she looked. “If you feel you need extra help, see me after class. We'll talk it over.”

“I'll be glad to help her,” smirked Joline.

“Better get a backup, Maeve,” quipped Avery.

Maeve glared back at Joline. She might be horrible in math, but she wasn't going to let the likes of Joline Kaminsky get the better of her.

“Maeve.” Mr. Sherman was growing impatient.

Maeve raised her eyes and smiled sweetly at the Crow. Like she would ever ask a bird of prey for help.
Thank goodness for Matt
, she thought as she nodded at the teacher. The
tutor her parents had hired was really nice and worked hard to explain everything. She just wished she was better at math to begin with.

Clang
went the bell. She was saved. Maeve leapt out of her seat and bolted toward the door. She couldn't wait to get to the cafeteria.

“Maeve, you look funny. What's the matter?” asked Katani, who was waiting outside for her friends. Katani was a math whiz and in level A, which was right next door to C. Josh said the teachers didn't call them A or C levels because all the parents would get bent out of shape. Nobody wanted their kid in level C, like their child would have self-esteem problems or something. But the kids knew the real deal, and most of them didn't care, or like Maeve and Josh, pretended not to care.

“Mr. Sherman.” Avery jumped to answer for Maeve. “He announced the big, huge mid-term and made it sound like we were all gonna go back to kindergarten if we don't pass it. Maevey here is freaking out,” Avery teased.

As the girls started walking toward the cafeteria, the usually talkative Maeve remained quiet. Her stomach was going crazy and her palms were sweating. “Don't worry, Maeve. I'll help you. This stuff is pretty easy once you get the hang of it,” a confident Katani said. Maeve gave her a weak smile.
Easy for you to say
, she thought.
You've got a math brain and I don't.

“Maeve, don't get all tied up in knots about this,” Isabel interjected. “You only have to get a C to pass. You can do that,” she said, giving Maeve a friendly pat on the shoulder. Maeve felt a little better. Isabel was right. She
didn't have to be a superstar here. She just had to pass.

“Avery,” Ms. Rodriguez called, catching up to them. “I know you're starving but could I see you for a few minutes about your book report?”

Avery looked a little worried but turned and limped back to Ms. Rodriguez's classroom.

“Avery is lucky,” Charlotte said, joining the group.

“Yeah,” said Katani. “It's amazing that she didn't break her ankle or even pull any ligaments when she fell at Lake Rescue. The doctor said if Avery would keep it tightly wrapped for a week or two, it should be good as new.”

“I don't know what Avery would do if she couldn't play soccer or basketball, or whatever sport is coming up next. She'd probably explode,” Isabel added.

Isabel was wearing a new blouse her grandmother in Mexico had embroidered for her. Katani stopped to admire it as they got to their lockers. As she struggled to unload her English book and grab the one for social studies, Katani's books and papers slid. Everything dropped on the floor. It was such an an uncharacteristic move for the always in control Kgirl that both girls began to laugh.

Charlotte bent over to help scoop things up. “That's my trick, Katani. I hope clumsiness isn't catching.”

“I think she did that because she was watching Pete Wexler walk by,” Maeve teased.

“Oh, Maeve,” Katani protested. “Who has time to even think about anything this week, let alone boys?”

“Is everyone up for a sleepover in the Tower Friday night?” Charlotte continued. “We've missed so many lately.”

“Did you talk to Nick yesterday?” Maeve asked.

“I don't talk to Nick every day.” Charlotte sounded bothered. “Besides, I am all talked out. My dad wanted to hear every single detail about Lake Rescue. I think he misses going on adventures.”

“I can understand that,” Katani sympathized. “Your dad is used to traveling all over the world and now he doesn't really get to go anywhere anymore. He is probably bored.”

Charlotte felt a sudden stab of guilt. She was the one who had asked her dad to forego a job in England and stay here so she could go to Abigail Adams Junior High. She had always wanted a real home, a place to put down roots and have the same friends for a long time. Now she had the Beacon Street Girls—Maeve, Avery, Katani, and Isabel—as her best friends. They all lived near each other. They went to Montoya's for hot chocolate together. They had sleepovers. It was heaven, a dream come true for Charlotte. But what if it wasn't heaven for her dad? What if he was bored and wanted to go travel down the Amazon and she was stopping him?