The Beast in Ms. Rooney's Room

The nine o'clock bell rang.

Richard Best pounded down the hall of the Polk Street School.

He burst into Room 113.

Ms. Rooney was telling everyone where to sit.

She smiled at Richard and pointed. “Right there behind Matthew Jackson” she said.

Richard slid into the seat behind Matthew. Matthew had stick-out ears and a wet-the-bed smell.

It was September. The first day of school.

Everything was just the same.

The same old classroom, painted up a little.

The same old Ms. Rooney with her puffy brown hair and a lot of orange lip stuff.

There was something different though. The rest of the kids.

Last year they were babies in Mrs. White's class.

Now they were in Ms. Rooney's class.

And so was he. Again.

A left-back.

The kids probably thought he was huge. Gigantic. He slid down in his seat. He pulled his head into his neck a little.

A girl sat across from him. She was wearing a pink party dress and dirty red sneakers. Her legs looked like Popsicle sticks.

She had a little white rubber horse on her desk. The kind with a horn on its head. Richard forgot what it was called.

The girl looked over at him and smiled. Maybe she thought he was the one with the wet smell.

He frowned at her. Then he pulled in his breath. Sniffing loudly, he stuck the eraser end of his new pencil up his nose.

He shook his head. The pencil swung back and forth gently.

The girl looked as if she were going to throw up.

Good.

Ms. Rooney began to call the roll.

“Emily Arrow,” she said.

“Here,” said the girl in the party dress and the red sneakers.

Richard tore a piece of paper out of his new notebook. He started to draw a picture of a ship. Then a plane with bombs coming down. Then lots of bullets.

“Timothy Barbiero,” Ms. Rooney said.

Richard drew a shark with lots of pointed teeth.

Ms. Rooney said some more names.

Richard put in a sailor jumping over the side of the ship, right into the shark's mouth, “Yee-ouch,” he said under his breath.

“Richard Best” Ms. Rooney said.

“Beast,” Richard said.

Ms. Rooney looked up. She shook her head.

Matthew turned around. He grinned at Richard.

His teeth were big and curled on the ends.

Richard ran his tongue over his teeth. Little bitty stumpy things.

He pressed on them hard to see if they would wiggle.

They didn't.

He was probably the only kid his age in the whole world who still had baby top teeth, Richard thought.

He closed his mouth and clamped his teeth together. He'd have to talk with his mouth almost closed so no one would notice.

He tried to practice under his breath. “I am from outer space,” he said without moving his lips.

Ms. Rooney stopped calling the names and looked in his direction.

Richard ducked his head.

“Alex Walker,” said Ms. Rooney.

Richard folded his shark picture and put it inside his desk.

He looked out the window while Ms. Rooney called the rest of the names. He wondered what the kids in his old class were doing. His real class.

Maybe he could see them at lunchtime. He'd stay away from these babies. He wouldn't even eat at their table.

He'd tell the old kids he was left back because …

Because what?

Ms. Rooney was tapping on her desk with her ruler.

“Til bet,” she said, “we're going to have the banner in Room 113 every week.”

The blue banner, Richard thought. Shiny and beautiful. It had a million silky yellow strings hanging down from the bottom.

“Remember,” Ms. Rooney said. “You have to be the best class to have the banner.”

That's what the banner said in big white letters.

BEST
.

“The best,” Ms. Rooney said again.

Ms. Rooney had said the same things last year, he remembered. He began to dust the top of his table with the little brush on the end of his eraser.

Richard was hot lunch.

It was Monday. The worst day.

He looked down at his tray: slippery gray chow mein, a dusty kind of peanut butter sandwich, and a paper cup of vanilla ice cream.

He dumped everything off the tray into the garbage pail while the monitor was looking the other way.

Then he changed his mind. He fished around for the ice cream. It had a tan noodle stuck to the top.

He picked the noodle off, licked the top of the ice cream, and ducked out the side door of the cafeteria.

The hall was empty.

No, it wasn't.

At the other end Ms. Rooney was coming around the corner. She had a bunch of yellow and brown
paper leaves in her hand. They were probably for the hall bulletin board.

Richard was just passing the boys' room. Quickly he slid inside.

A first-grade boy was washing his hands at the sink.

He looked like a midget, Richard thought.

“Hi,” Richard said.

The boy looked as if he were ready to cry.

“Don't cry,” Richard said.

The boy didn't answer. He rubbed his wet hands on the sides of his pants.

“I used to be afraid too,” Richard said. “When I was in first grade.” He glanced out the window to see if any of the kids in his old class were outside yet. “That was a long time ago,” he added.

The boy nodded. “What grade are you in?”

“Uh … fourth,” Richard said, lying.

“Wow,” the kid said. He circled around Richard and started for the hall.

“Hey. Wait a minute. What's your name?” Richard called after him.