Flower Power (3 page)

That was why Katie didn’t make wishes anymore. They caused too many problems if they came true.

Of course, Katie couldn’t tell her friends about her switcheroos. They wouldn’t believe her even if she did. Katie wouldn’t believe it either—if it didn’t keep happening to her.

Right now all of her friends were looking at her as though she were nuts. Not that she blamed them. She had gone a little crazy when Suzanne made that wish.

“I…uh…I just meant that I would be really sad if you went to a different school,” Katie told Suzanne.

“Of course you would,” Suzanne said. “But don’t worry. I’ll be going to school with you for a long, long time.”

“Oh, man,” George moaned. He poured more fruit punch into the yucky mixture on his tray. “I’ve definitely lost my appetite.”

Okay, so if my flower is used to color butter, it must be yellow
, Katie thought to herself as she sat in the school library later that afternoon.

“How’s it going, Katie?” Ms. Folio, the school librarian, asked.

“I’m trying to guess what my mystery flower is,” Katie told her. “So far, all I know is it’s a yellow flower that the Aztecs thought had magic power.”

“The ancient Aztecs lived in Mexico,” Ms. Folio told Katie. “Let’s find a book about the history of Mexico. Maybe your flower is mentioned.”

“I got it!” George shouted suddenly from his seat at one of the library computers. “My flower is a sunflower!”

“Good detective work, George,” Mr. G. congratulated him. “Now see if you can find some more interesting facts about sunflowers.”

“It says here they grow eight to twelve feet tall,” George replied.

Now that George knew what flower he had, Katie was even more excited to discover what kind of seeds where in
her
packet. She searched through a book on the Aztecs for some clue about what her flower might be. At last she spotted something in a chapter called “Magic and Medicine.” The answer was right there!
The yellow marigold was once believed to contain magic pain-relieving powers
.
Today the flower is used to calm the pain and swelling of bee stings
.

“My mystery flower is a marigold!” she exclaimed. “Is that right, Mr. G.?”

Mr. G. grinned. “Good for you, Katie Kazoo,” he rhymed. “You’ve solved the mystery.”

Katie smiled proudly back at him. She felt like a real detective who had just solved a big case.

Soon all of the detectives in class 4A had solved their mysteries. Everyone knew just what flowers would be popping their heads out of the dirt. Katie couldn’t wait to see all the flowers—especially her marigolds.

But she would have to wait. According to a book on flowers Ms. Folio had found for her, marigold sprouts didn’t pop up until a week after the seeds were planted. It would be eight whole weeks before the yellow flowers bloomed.

Brrriiiinnnng!

Just then, the school bell rang. It was the end of the day.

“Okay, detective dudes, pack up. It’s time to go home!” Mr. G. told them.

Katie grinned. Mr. G. had them bring their
backpacks and coats to the library. Now they could leave school without stopping back in the classroom. In a flash, the kids in class 4A were heading outside.

“That was so much fun!” Katie exclaimed happily as she and Emma W. walked down the hallway together.

“I can’t wait to read more about daisies,” Emma W. replied. “They’re my mystery flower.”

“And I am going to learn more about marigo—” Katie stopped midsentence. “Oops. I left one of my books in the library.”

“Go back and get it,” Emma said. “I’ll wait for you.”

Katie ran back to the library. When she got there, it was completely empty—except for Mr. G. and Ms. Folio. They were by Ms. Folio’s desk in back. Whatever they were talking about must have been very important. They didn’t even notice that Katie had come in.

Katie knew it was wrong to eavesdrop. But
she couldn’t help herself. She’d always wondered what teachers talked about when kids weren’t around.

“So when are you going to do it?” Katie heard Ms. Folio ask.

“In about an hour,” Mr. G. replied. “It’s sure going to feel weird having short hair. I’ve had this ponytail since college.”

“Change is good,” Ms. Folio told him.

“I guess,” Mr. G. agreed. “Oh, wow. Look at the time. I’ve got to go. I need to pick up my suit before I go to the barber.”

And with that, Mr. G. turned and headed for the door. He stopped when he spotted Katie. “Hi, Katie,” he said cheerfully.

Did he know she’d been listening? “Uh…hi,” she answered. “I…um…forgot my book.”

“Ms. Folio’s still here. It was very responsible of you to come back and get it,” Mr. G. told her. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he added as he breezed past her and out the door, his long ponytail flopping up and down behind him.

Katie frowned. Mr. G. without a ponytail? How weird would that be?

“You guys are never gonna believe this!” Katie shouted as she raced over to where her friends were standing outside school.

“What?” Emma W. asked.

“Mr. G. is cutting off his ponytail!” Katie exclaimed.

That sure got everyone’s attention.

“No way!” George said.

“Way,” Katie assured him.

“How would
you
know something like that?” Suzanne demanded.

Katie sighed. Suzanne could sound so mean when someone else found out something before she did.

“I heard Mr. G. tell Ms. Folio that he was going to the barbershop,” she told Suzanne. “So I know it’s the truth.”

“Whoa, Mr. G. with short hair,” Kevin said. “That would make him look…”

“Like a normal teacher,” Suzanne finished his sentence.

“Mr. G. could never be normal,” George told Suzanne.

“Yeah, he’s special,” Emma W. agreed.

Suzanne rolled her eyes. “I don’t see what’s so special about your teacher. I like Ms. Sweet much better.”

“He would just have short hair,” Kevin insisted. “But he’d still be
Mr. G. He’d still be wearing the same clothes and…”

“No he won’t,” Katie interrupted him. “He said something about having to pick up a suit, too.”

“A suit?” Jeremy repeated. “But Mr. G. never wears a suit. Only people who work in offices wear those.”

Suddenly a smile appeared on Suzanne’s face. “Maybe that’s what Mr. G. is going to do,” she said.

“What?” Katie asked her.

“Work in an office,” Suzanne told her. “Maybe Mr. G. is looking for a new job.”

“Mr. G. would never do that,” George insisted.

Suzanne shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s possible. Maybe he’s got a job interview coming up and he wants to look all businesslike for it.”

“It is not possible!” George insisted. “Mr. G. isn’t going anywhere. He’s our teacher and he’s going to stay right here.”

Suddenly Katie felt horrible. Imagining fourth grade without Mr. G. was just too awful.

“Okay, dudes, follow the directions for planting your seeds carefully,” Mr. G. said as the kids in class 4A filled their flowerpots with dirt early the next morning.

Katie placed the seeds a few inches apart and covered them with a thin layer of soil just as the instructions in the packet told her to. She wanted to make sure her marigold seeds grew up to be big, beautiful, yellow flowers.

But it was hard to pay attention to what she was doing. Katie’s eyes kept drifting over to Mr. G. He seemed so different without his long ponytail. He looked so…so…
normal
.

“Don’t you like my new haircut?” was all he’d say.

“Okay, you guys,” Mr. G. said a moment later. “When everyone’s seeds are planted, we’re going to go outside and do some yoga. We can do poses that imitate the way seeds open up to the sun.”

Katie smiled. With or without his ponytail, Mr. G. was still Mr. G.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Mr. G. continued, “you are going to have a substitute teacher tomorrow. I have an appointment I have to keep.”

Katie, Emma W., George, and Kevin all looked at each other nervously. An appointment? Like an
interview
appointment for another job?

“I expect you all to be as well behaved for the new teacher as you are for me,” Mr. G. told the kids.

“New
teacher?” Katie asked him nervously.

“The substitute teacher,” Mr. G. explained.

“But the substitute’s only coming tomorrow?” Katie asked, making sure. “You’ll be back after that, right?”

“That’s the plan,” he said.

Katie frowned. That didn’t sound too convincing. She wanted Mr. G. to promise to come back to school the day after tomorrow and never leave again.