The Fabled Fifth Graders of Aesop Elementary School (3 page)

Bernadette shrugged. “What’s to know? You investigate, and then you report. Easy peasy.”

Miss Turner fell silent, considering. Finally she said, “All right, Bernadette. I’ll give you a chance. You are now a WUSS investigative reporter.”

“Does that mean I get to read the announcements?” asked Melvin.

*   *   *

Two weeks later, the fifth graders went on the air.

Melvin straightened his crocheted vest (blue worsted wool using the half-double stitch), cleared his throat, and looked into the camera.

“In three … two …,” whispered Calvin and raised his finger, “ … one.”

The camera’s green On light blinked on.

“I’m Melvin Moody and you are watching WUSS.”

Lenny and Bruce snickered.

“And here are your week’s announcements.” Melvin shuffled through a handful of index cards and read the first one: “Mrs. Bunz is offering a reward for information leading to the return of her megaphone.”

He read the second card: “Mr. Halfnote is now holding tryouts for the Aesop Elementary Harmonica, Washboard, and Armpit Band. Anyone interested should meet in the music room after school today. Harmonicas and washboards will be provided. Bring your own armpits.”

He read the last card: “Nurse Betadine would like to remind all first graders that boogers are not one of the four basic food groups. Use a tissue.”

He laid the cards on the desk. “And now over to Ham Samitch for a look at this week’s menu.”

Calvin angled the camera to the right.

“Bon appétit
, lunch lovers,” said Ham with a big smile. “It’s going to be a dee-licious week here at Aesop Elementary. Monday’s entrée is a delightful tofurky surprise, followed by tasty meat nuggets
al forno
(that means baked) on Tuesday; a traditional favorite, yak and cheese, on Wednesday; and on Thursday, an inspired selection of various bratwursts and wieners. On Friday Cook gives us a real treat by serving her famous three-bean sandwich accompanied by lime Jell-O embedded with baloney slices. Mmm-mmm, good!”

The camera moved to Jackie. “In football last night the Bears mauled the Rams, the Lions roared ahead to beat the Chiefs, the Vikings sacked the Cowboys, and the Ravens lost to the lowly Dolphins. After the game, the Ravens’ coach quit, saying, ‘Nevermore!’”

The camera zoomed in on Stanford.

“In more serious news,” droned Stanford, “scientists have discovered the genome that may unravel the mystery of why zebras have stripes and leopards have spots and not the other way around.”

“But can scientists unravel the secret of beautiful hair?” interrupted Victoria. “I can. Here’s beauty tip number one for all you wanna-be-mes out there. Beautiful hair begins with—”

“Lemon juice and kitty litter,” said Lenny.

“That explains why she’s such a sourpuss,” added Bruce.

The boys grinned into the camera. “And that’s your joke of the day,” they giggled together.

Victoria’s manicured hand could just be seen smacking the back of Lenny’s head as the camera angled back to Melvin.

He cleared his throat again. “And now, a hard-hitting report from investigative reporter Bernadette Braggadocio.”

The camera panned again.

“Thank you, uh … uh …”

“Melvin,” whispered Melvin.

Bernadette ignored him.

Instead, she pulled out a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, perched them on the end of her nose, and looked deep into the camera. “Students of Aesop Elementary,” she said in a very serious voice. “This reporter has uncovered evidence that Cook does not use
real cheese in her yak and cheese recipe. Yes, the yak is real. But what is that yellow stuff you’ve been eating?” Bernadette paused for effect, then declared, “It is processed cheese food, aka fake cheese. And fake cheese just doesn’t cut it.” She paused again. “This reporter, for one, is shocked. Aren’t you?”

The red Off light on top of the camera blinked on.

And Ham hurried over to Bernadette. “Is that true?” he asked. “Is it really fake cheese?”

“Well,” said Bernadette, “I heard it from a kid whose brother knows another kid whose mom used to work in the school lunchroom.”

“Isn’t that called a rumor?” asked Ham.

“They’re called sources,” corrected Bernadette. “But I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

For the rest of the week, Bernadette kept her eyes and ears open for more scoops and sources, but she didn’t uncover anything hard-hitting until—

“Have any of you seen the crazy new art teacher yet?” Missy asked during Friday free time.

“Crazy new art teacher?” said Bernadette. She flipped open her black spiral notebook—the one she’d been carrying ever since she’d become an investigative reporter. “Tell me more.”

“Her name’s Ms. Bozzetto, and she just moved into that creepy old Victorian over on Vesta Street,” said Missy. “At least, that’s what my neighbor told me.”

“She carries around dozens of cat pictures in her purse,” said Jackie. “At least, that’s what I overheard a fourth grader say.”

“And she purrs and mews to herself,” said Ashlee A. “At least, I bet she does.”

“Her clothes are covered with cat hair,” added Victoria with a shudder. “I saw that for myself.”

Humphrey leaned into their conversation. “Cat hair? That’s because Ms. Bozzetto has hundreds of cats living in her house.”

“How would you know?” asked Victoria.

“I heard it from a first grader, who heard it from his babysitter, who heard it from her boyfriend, who heard it from his baseball coach, who probably heard it from his wife, who heard it from their first grader,” explained Humphrey.

“Oh,” said the girls. They nodded their understanding.

And Bernadette wrote furiously in her notebook, her pencil trying to keep pace with the hard-hitting
investigative report that was forming in her mind. Within minutes she had it all down on paper:

Bernadette put down her pencil and grinned. It was the best investigative report ever!

ZZZZ-CRACK!

The loudspeaker buzzed and crackled. Then the voice of Mrs. Shorthand—who had been an air traffic controller before becoming the school’s secretary—filled the room. “Mr. Jupiter? Come in, Mr. Jupiter.”

“I read you loud and clear. Go ahead,” Mr. Jupiter replied.

“Please send Bernadette Braggadocio to the office,” said Mrs. Shorthand. “Do you roger that?”

“I roger that,” replied Mr. Jupiter. “Bernadette is on her way.”

ZZZZ-CRACK!

The loudspeaker buzzed and crackled off.

Bernadette frowned. “I wonder what they want me for?” she asked.

Mr. Jupiter pointed to the door. “I suggest you go and find out.”

Picking up her notebook, Bernadette headed to the office.

When she arrived, Mrs. Shorthand pointed to an orange plastic chair outside the principal’s door. “Have a seat,” she said. “Mrs. Struggles will be with you in a few minutes.”

“Have I done something wrong?” Bernadette asked.

Mrs. Shorthand eyed her as if she were a criminal. “Sit,” she said. She turned away to answer the phone.

Bernadette settled into the chair, then opened her notebook. She reread her report about Mrs. Bozzetto.

Mrs. Shorthand whispered something into the phone’s receiver.

Bernadette looked up from her notebook.

Stop the presses!

Had she just heard Mrs. Shorthand say the two most terrifying words that could ever be uttered in a school … 
head lice
?

Bernadette’s investigative heart leaped with joy.

Head lice were an even bigger scoop than crazy cat ladies!

Turning to a clean page in her notebook, she started writing.

But she’d only scrawled a few sentences when Mrs. Struggles opened her office door. She crooked her finger at Bernadette. “You and I need to have a little chat about cheese and truth, young lady.”

Bernadette gulped and closed her notebook. Her report would have to wait until
after
detention.

   The following Monday, the fifth graders were on the air again.

Melvin gave the announcements.

Ham read the menu.

Jackie reported on sports.

And Stanford droned on.

Then the camera panned to Bernadette. (Both the beauty and the joke segments had been canceled due to what Miss Turner called “the violent content of last week’s reports.”)

“Students of Aesop Elementary,” said Bernadette gravely. “Last week, while in the office, I uncovered a disturbing revelation.” She adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses, letting the suspense build, then said, “Our school is in the throes of a medical catastrophe—an outbreak of head lice.” She paused, then concluded, “This reporter, for one, is grossed out. Aren’t you?”

“Is it true?” gasped Missy as soon as the camera’s Off light blinked red. “Is the school full of head lice?”

Bernadette shrugged. “Well, I think I overheard Mrs. Shorthand say it.”

“You
think
?” repeated Humphrey.

“That’s hearsay,” said Amisha. “I know because my dad’s an attorney.”

“Whatever,” replied Bernadette. She tucked her horn-rimmed glasses back into her pocket and headed to class.

That afternoon when the final bell rang, Mr.
Jupiter asked Bernadette to stay after school. “I want to talk to you about today’s investigative report,” he said.

“Hard-hitting, wasn’t it?” bragged Bernadette.

“It certainly was,” agreed Mr. Jupiter. “All afternoon, parents have flooded the office with calls demanding that action be taken. We’ve had exterminators in the basement, health inspectors in the lunchroom, and barbers calling in to offer their services.”

Bernadette shrugged. “I report what I hear.”

“And did you clearly hear Mrs. Shorthand say ‘head lice’?”

Bernadette squirmed for a moment. “Maybe not
crystal
clearly,” she finally admitted. “But I
think
that’s what I heard her say.”

Mr. Jupiter nodded. “Well, here are the facts as I know them. The school is implementing a new parking safety procedure. One suggestion was for teachers to drive off the lot with their
headlights
on.”

“Oh,” said Bernadette. “Oh … oh, no, I guess I’ll be back in the principal’s office tomorrow morning.”

Mr. Jupiter patted her shoulder. “You know, when I worked as a cub reporter for the
Klondike Courier
, my
editor was always shouting ‘Dagnabbit it, Jupiter, verify your sources.’”

“I don’t understand,” said Bernadette.

“All good reporters verify their stories,” explained Mr. Jupiter. “They don’t just make things up based on hearsay and rumor. They interview people, double-check their facts, see for themselves. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” said Bernadette.

“Good,” said Mr. Jupiter with a smile. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bernadette stuffed her notebook into her backpack and headed out to the bike ramp. But instead of pedaling straight home, she turned toward Vesta Street.

She braked in front of a gloomy old Victorian.

“It sure looks like the house of a crazy lady,” muttered Bernadette.

At that moment the front door opened. Ms. Bozzetto stepped onto the porch in a cloud of felines—big cats, little cats, old cats, young cats, one-eyed cats, three-legged cats, striped cats, bald cats. They wove in and out of the art teacher’s ankles, purring, mewing, and nipping.

“And that sure looks like a crazy cat lady.”

Ms. Bozzetto waved. “Hello!” she called to Bernadette. “Have you come to adopt a cat?”

“Huh?” said Bernadette.

Ms. Bozzetto stomped her foot. “Isn’t that a fine howdy-do—that blasted sign has fallen over again.” Followed by the cats, she bounded into the yard, picked up the sign, and staked it back into the ground. The sign read:

Then she peered at Bernadette. “I know you!” she exclaimed. “You’re that WUSS reporter.”

Bernadette nodded.

“Can I help you with something?” asked Ms. Bozzetto. She bent and tickled a calico cat at her feet.

Bernadette nodded again. “I … I … was wondering if I could ask you a few questions,” she stammered.

The art teacher beamed. “Sure,” she said, holding open the gate. “Come on in.”

The following Monday the fifth graders were on the air again—Melvin, Ham, Jackie, Stanford, and—

“Students of Aesop Elementary,” said Bernadette in her most serious voice. “This reporter has uncovered evidence that a crazy woman works in our school.”

Behind the camera, Ham groaned. “Not more rumors.”

On camera, Bernadette said, “Her name is Ms. Bozzetto, our new art teacher, and she is crazy …” Bernadette adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses and rearranged her notes. “Crazy … about cats.”

Behind Bernadette a picture appeared. It was of Ms. Bozzetto and Bernadette sitting on a hair-covered couch surrounded by a cloud of cats.

Bernadette smiled into the camera. “These are just a few of the forlorn and forgotten felines saved from the mean streets by Ms. Bozzetto’s kindness and generosity. She takes them in
—all
of them—loves them, and cares for them until they are adopted by families of their own.” Bernadette paused for effect. “This reporter, for one, is heart-warmed. Aren’t you?”

   
MORAL: Don’t believe everything you hear
.

“LOOK WHAT I CAN DO!” ERNEST
exclaimed during math. He cracked all ten of his knuckles.

“That’s nothing,” said Calvin. “Watch this!” He popped his thumbs out of joint.