Smashie McPerter and the Mystery of Room 11 by N. Griffin

Author:N. Griffin [Griffin, N.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-7636-7017-7
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2015-04-03T16:00:00+00:00

“Well,” said Smashie, looking at her feet, “it is kind of a complicated suit. To help me think.”

“I see,” said Ms. Early. She raised her eyebrows slightly but said nothing more.

“I feel terrible,” Smashie whispered to Dontel. “I feel like I am fibbing! And I think Ms. Early might be onto us.”

“I don’t think she is,” said Dontel. “But I think she is worried that you might have plans.”

“Well, I do,” said Smashie.

Alonso came by their table with the box of oatmeal cartons. “Thanks, Alonso,” said Dontel. He took the containers with his and Smashie’s names as them.

“No, thank you for helping me get unstuck yesterday,” said Alonso earnestly. His hand, recovered from the gluing and Smashie’s and Dontel’s arduous ministrations, still looked a little raw. “That Billy!”

It was clear that despite Ms. Early’s words, many still shared Alonso’s sentiments. Over at his table, the kids were all paired up for work except Billy, who sat alone, twirling his pencil unhappily over his page of instructions.

“He looks like he feels pretty bad,” said Dontel.

“Well, I haven’t heard him say sorry,” said Alonso grimly. “He’s got to learn when he’s taken his pranks too far!”

“Yes,” said Dontel, “but I kind of think he’s telling the truth when he says it wasn’t him.”

“Tchah,” said Alonso.

The door to the classroom swung open.

“Hello, kids.” It was Miss Dismont. She smiled across the room at Ms. Early. “Glad to see you’re back on your feet,” she said.

“Thanks.” Ms. Early smiled. “Me too.”

“Are your students in gym, Miss Dismont?” Smashie asked.

“They certainly are,” said Miss Dismont. “I’m getting the room ready for our math explorations. And after that we’re starting our unit on cartography! I’m very excited.”

“I’ll bet,” said Cyrus.

“Aren’t you going to wear your kangaroo brooch for math, Miss Dismont?” asked Smashie. “You always do.”

“Well, I want to, Smashie,” said Miss Dismont. “That’s why I’m here. Ms. Early, you haven’t seen my brooch, have you? I’ve looked all over this morning and can’t put my hands on it. I’m heartbroken. My brother gave that to me for Christmas years ago.”

“I haven’t seen it,” said Ms. Early. “But don’t worry. It’ll turn up. Things always do.”

“That’s true, Miss Dismont,” said Smashie fervently. “I lose things most every day and I almost always find them again.”

“Thanks, Smashie,” said Miss Dismont. “I’ll hold out hope. I’m sure it got into one of my schoolbags. Well, I’d better be off to pick up my class. And I’ll be by after lunch to borrow that map, Ms. Early, if that’s all right.”

“Of course,” said Ms. Early.

“Thank you. Good-bye, Room 11!”

“Good-bye, Miss Dismont!”

“Ms. Early!” said Jacinda. “It’s just like Joyce said! Now Miss Dismont’s brooch has been stolen!”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah!”

“Children!” Mrs. Early’s voice was sharp. “You are jumping to silly conclusions and I will not have it. What happened to using your heads? Are you going to think there is a thief in our midst every time a pencil goes missing?”

“No, Ms. Early.”

“No, Ms. Early.”

“Then settle back to work. My heavens.”

The children cut and measured and snipped, but some of them were still muttering.

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