Goodbye, Mr. Terupt - Softcover

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ROB BUYEA taught third and fourth graders for six years; then he taught high school biology and coached wrestling for seven years. Currently, he is a full-time writer and lives in Massachusetts with his wife and daughters. His first novel in the MR. TERUPT series, Because of Mr. Terupt, was selected as an E. B. White Read Aloud Honor Book and a Cybils Honor Book. It has also won several state awards and was named to numerous state reading lists. Other books in the series include Mr. Terupt Falls Again and Saving Mr. Terupt. Buyea also wrote THE PERFECT SCORE trilogy, composed of The Perfect Score, The Perfect Secret, and The Perfect Star. Visit him online at robbuyea.com and on Facebook, and follow @RobBuyea on Twitter.

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Peter 

When it came to the gang, we were in the business of making memories. Whether pulling killer pranks or attempting unbelievable stunts--my specialty--or tackling over-the-top projects together, we had a way of doing things that people would talk about for a long time. The kind of stuff that inspired. And this year was no different. This year we needed memories that would last us a lifetime--because after saying goodbye, that’s all you have left to hold on to.  

I kicked things off for us at the Summer Sound Festival, which was this huge weekend party held outdoors on the Long Island Sound. There were tons of food trucks and vendors, live music and entertainment, and people. It was the place to be. All of our parents went, but we ditched them and met up with each other as soon as we got there. 

For all the hype, the festival really wasn’t anything that great. The music lineup was just a bunch of local nobodies, and the vendor stuff was even lamer, but Lexie dragged us through tent after tent because no way could she miss out on any shopping. 

“Do we really need to walk through all this?” I complained. 

“Don’t be a sourpuss,” Jessica replied. “Look at it this way: maybe you can find some pretty jewelry to buy for Lexie.” 

“Yeah, that’s the attitude,” Lexie said, batting her eyelashes at me. 

She loved me now, but before long she’d be ready to kill me. That was our relationship--hot and cold. 

It was borderline torture, but I tagged along like her lost puppy (her real foo-foo ankle-biter, Margo, was at home because of a strict festival policy--no dogs allowed). I got why Danielle liked the artist booths with the paintings and drawings, and why Anna liked the photography stuff. What killed me was the way Luke was all into the vendors displaying their inventions. He was fascinated by their creativity. Even Jeffrey seemed interested. Maybe not at the booths selling handmade doll clothes or quilts, but he was down with the metal and woodworking stuff. He got excited when he found a small toy wooden train that he was able to buy for his little brother, Asher. I got excited when I found a concession stand in the back of the fourth tent. I was starving, but Lexie wasn’t about to stop shopping, so I grabbed a super chili dog for the road. They piled the cheese and onions on top of that thing. The bigger the mess, the tastier the food. I stuffed it in my mouth and chomped down. 

“Mmm,” I moaned. Mustard spurted out the back end and landed on my shirt. 

“Ugh, Peter. Are you serious? I can’t take you anywhere,” Lexie said, groaning. 

“It’s just mustard,” I said. I swiped the blob off my shirt with my finger and stuck it in her mouth. 

Lexie made an awful face and jerked away. “You’re disgusting!” she screeched. “I hate you!” She hauled off and punched me in the chest. 

“Yeah, but you love me,” I teased, and laughed. 

Lexie huffed and stomped off, but she didn’t really hate me. Consider this a warm-up, because she was nowhere near as mad as she would get. The mustard-finger trick was a good one, but my best idea was yet to come. I stuffed the rest of the dog in my mouth and followed her. 

After what felt like an eternity, Lexie finally found something she liked: a toe ring with a sea-glass jewel. It was cool and, surprisingly, it wasn’t the most expensive thing there. But she wouldn’t let me buy it because she was still playing mad. 

“You’re being stubborn,” I said. 

“I don’t care,” she snapped. 

I tried, but whatever. When she finished paying, I took the lead and found the nearest exit. It was a beautiful day, and the last thing I wanted was to spend every minute of it under cover. Enough was enough. 

The one cool thing about the festival was all the outdoor games the organizers had put out for people to use. There were volleyball nets, bocce ball sets, and Can Jam courts spread out along the beach. Most everything was being used, but I spotted a free Spikeball kit. 

“C’mon, let’s try it,” I urged. 

We kicked our shoes and socks into a pile and ran over to play. Basically, Spikeball is what the name implies. Players stand, surrounding a small circular trampoline-style net, and take turns spiking a rubber ball onto it. If you miss on your turn, the other team scores. There might be some other rules involved, but that’s how we did it. We played guys against girls. That might sound unfair, but there were four of them and only three of us, and Luke was definitely the worst, so it was actually pretty even. It was fun, but after a while I had to make it more exciting. I wound up and whaled the ball into the air instead of onto the net. 

“Peter!” everyone cried. 

The ball sailed into the Sound. Anna was the first to run after it, and then Jeffrey took off, determined to beat her. Next thing I knew, we were all racing across the sand. We had shorts and T-shirts on, but no one was wearing a swimsuit. Didn’t matter. I sent Lukester swimming. His arms and legs flailed every which way after I shoved him. Poor kid didn’t stand a chance. He belly-flopped into the waves, and the best part was that his crash-landing splashed water all over Lexie too. 

“Peter!” she screeched. She kicked and slapped at the water, trying to get me wet, but she wasn’t even close. I laughed at her, but then Jessica soaked me with a sneak attack from the side. It was game on. 

We must’ve looked like we were straight out of one of those ridiculous Disney Channel summer beach movies. The bunch of us goofing around, jumping and splashing and having fun in the water. It was great--until Lexie started screaming. And I mean screaming. 

“Lexie, are you okay?” Jessica asked. 

She didn’t respond. Or couldn’t. 

“Lexie,” Anna tried. 

“Lexie,” Danielle repeated. 

Still nothing. 

“Lexie, tell me what’s wrong,” I demanded, hoping my forceful tone would get her to talk. 

But she just continued screaming. When I saw the way she was hobbling out of the water, I figured she had stepped on a sharp shell and had cut her foot, or maybe she’d been bitten by a crab. Both of those things can hurt--not as much as her carrying-on would indicate, but this was Lexie we were talking about. She’d scream if a butterfly landed on her. I was kind of hoping for some blood, because with a little blood in the water we could get lucky and maybe attract a shark, which would’ve been totally awesome--but she wasn’t bleeding. All this drama-queen stuff and no blood. Classic Lexie. I was ready to tell her to suck it up and stop being a baby, but then she plopped down in the sand, clutching her leg. She was crying for real. 

“It’s a jellyfish sting,” Luke said, pointing to the red welt that wrapped around her calf and shin. 

“I don’t wanna die,” Lexie whined. 

“You’re not going to die,” Luke assured her. “Lie back and try to relax.” 

The girls kneeled by her side, doing whatever they could to comfort her. 

“Try not to rub or itch it. That’ll only make it worse,” Luke told her. 

“Ow,” she whimpered. 

“I didn’t see any jellyfish,” I said. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Luke replied....