“Boy, how did we ever manage to get a teacher like Miss Blossom?” Creampuff said.
“You’d think this being our last year at Pepperdine, they’d have given us someone decent,” Banana said, and gave a big groan.
“Yeah, like Miss Switch,” said Peatmouse.
“Yeah,” we all agreed.
You can imagine that it was all I could do to keep my mouth shut further on that one. It was also all I could do not to catch Miss Blossom’s eye as we filed past her desk to drop off our math homework en route to our own desks.
My homework, of course, had a copy of Saturna’s report clipped to the back of it. Miss Blossom gave us all such a big, vacant smile, I couldn’t help wondering if she had remembered her request. But I had no sooner dropped into my desk when I saw her draw out my sheet from the pile of homework papers and slide it into a drawer.
No one else noticed this, naturally. It was good old Miss Switch at work, and she had always been very good at doing a lot of things no one in the class noticed. Well, excepting myself. Which is why I saw one of Billy Swanson’s spitballs come flying back at him like a pebble from a slingshot and zap him on the cheek. And Melvin Bothwick get his neck frozen sideways when he was trying to stick his nosy nose into someone else’s book bag.
“Oh, you poor thing!” Miss Blossom purred to Billy.
“Would you like me to rub your neck for you, dear?” she said to Melvin.
Being called a “poor thing” nearly ruined Billy for the day. And Melvin looked as if he wished himself on another planet at the thought of Miss Blossom massaging his neck in front of the whole sixth grade. Miss Switch was back in the saddle again, and no one (but me) even knew it!
In the meantime, though, I was going batty wondering when I’d be able to consult with her about Saturna’s report. Miss Blossom had barely glanced at the paper I’d attached to my math homework before she slid it into her desk drawer. Was I just going to have to make it back to Pepperdine at midnight again?
The day dragged on, with no sign from Miss Blossom. But something else interesting finally did happen in the afternoon. Mr. Dorking showed up in the classroom, along with Miss Tuna and her big notebook. The female population instantly swooned, including Miss Blossom! I nearly fell right out of my desk when I saw her batting her crazy eyelashes at him. For a split second I actually believed her. Then I began thinking of the scene of Miss Switch and Bathsheba howling with laughter in this very room just a few hours earlier. I had to conclude that Miss Switch was not only a witch and a great teacher, but a very clever actress as well. She was batting away at such a rate, I was afraid her fake eyelashes might fall right off!
Mr. Dorking was a man of very few words, probably because he didn’t know very many, or how to use what he had, but he hardly needed any. All he had to do was cast his eyes around the room. When he finally did speak, out came golden tones that sent the girls into even further swoons.
His purpose in visiting the sixth-grade classroom, it turned out, was to announce that the first PTA meeting was to be held the following week, and the sixth grade was being invited to put on a scene from a play. He said he had always liked the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet, personally More swoons from the girls at this, of course. However, he seemed to have difficulty in even getting this small announcement out, and had to refer to Miss Tuna both for the day and the time when the scene was to be performed. I couldn’t help wondering how he would manage if the school hadn’t had the foresight to get Miss Tuna as his assistant. Anyway, he flashed his big smile at us and left, with Miss Tuna scurrying after him. This was all so fascinating that it wasn’t until they had left that I thought of something.
Wham!
Bang!
The words materialized in my head:
The play’s the thing
Revenge to bring!
I quickly looked at Miss Blossom. Though it was hard to tell what was going on behind those eyelashes, I was pretty positive that her eyes were narrowed almost to slits as she looked at the disappearing back of Mr. Dorking. That told me she had definitely been in touch with my computowitch.com report, and zeroed in on the same words I had. Saturna had something unpleasant in mind by way of revenge for the sixth grade! The question was what? Miss Blossom and I had to talk!
“Well, class,” said Miss Blossom, beaming at us, “isn’t this going to be fun? Tomorrow we shall begin at once to plan our scene. But our lessons do come first, you know, and I must speak to a few of you about your math homework. Wayne Partlow, Harvey Fanna, and Rupert Brown, will you please stay in the classroom after the closing bell rings? I would like to talk to each of you for just a few minutes.”
Now I knew that neither Peatmouse nor Banana exactly sparkled when it came to math, but although
