BenBee and the Teacher Griefer Read online

  0BenwhY: It’s just a bad day for me.

  0BenwhY: A really, really bad day.

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: Same.

  BenBee: Yikes. Well, I hope you both feel better soon.

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: Me too.

  0BenwhY: Me too.

  jajajavier:) ENTERS GAME

  jajajavier:): hey everyone

  jajajavier:): do you think ms. j will find us?

  jajajavier:): here, I mean? tonight?

  jajajavier:): tell us what happened?

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: she found me before, after my Terrible Spartacus Idea

  BenBee: she might. cause she’s not like a regular teacher

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: definitely not a teacher griefer

  BenBee: she’s like a friend teacher or a teacher friend

  BenBee: kind of

  BenBee: i don’t know

  BenBee: there isn’t a word for what she is

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: yes there is

  BenBee: what

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: divergent

  BenBee: haha

  jajajavier:): haha

  0BenwhY: omg

  BenBee: you’re right, though

  BenBee: she’s a divergent teacher

  BenBee: she teaches differently

  BenBee: she, like, listens to us.

  0BenwhY: she listens to you

  0BenwhY: i don’t know if she ever listened to ME. i don’t know if she actually saw ME. It was always Benita th—

  CHAT INFRACTION

  0BenwhY: GAH! it’s like she seemed maybe soft and nice and cool and different, but was she?

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: wait. she’s not DEAD, is she?

  0BenwhY: omg Jordan j, no she’s not dead, she’s like, a real-life griefer.

  0BenwhY: extra annoying, tho there *was* that nice part trying to emerge, just . . . can you be nice AND clueles—

  CHAT INFRACTION

  BenBee: Ben Y! You’re about to get ejected.

  jajajavier:): You can totally be nice and clueless. Like Jordan J.

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: Hey!

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: I resemble that remark.

  BenBee: seriously tho, you guys

  BenBee: I mean, you y’alls, why didn’t Ms. J come back to class today?

  0BenwhY: we can ask her tomorrow

  0BenwhY: she’ll tell us if she wants to

  0BenwhY: or if she thinks it will make Javier read out loud finally

  0BenwhY:

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!:

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: I’m really sorry, btw

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: about the reading thing

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: I just wanted to help

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: you’re definitely right that people can be nice AND clueless

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: I will work very hard to have a clue now

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: and still be nice

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: sorrysorrysorrysorry

  jajajavier:): eventually, i figured out you y’alls weren’t making fun of me.

  jajajavier:): but it still felt like it, with the finishing of my words and yelling my name

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: i’m really ten times sorry.

  0BenwhY: we all are.

  BenBee: infinity sorry.

  jajajavier:): fine. I guess I forgive you, nerds. You all get an extra life as my friend.

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: do you think Ms. J will get an extra life?

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: for the teacher FART that we probably made her fail?

  BenBee: dunno. for some reason this kind of feels like it WAS her extra life.

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!: uh oh

  jajajavier:): uh oh

  BenBee: uh oh

  0BenwhY: uh oh

  BEN B

 

  Mr. Maillot greets us,

  from behind Ms. J’s desk.

  She is definitely not here.

  He is definitely not smiling.

  The bandage on his nose

  is so white,

  it glows

  under the buzzing lights.

  Black half circles

  spread under his eyes

  like he’s the one, when

  after a fight,

  someone says,

  You should see the other guy.

  Those are

  definitely

  other guy

  eyes.

  BEN Y

  <0BenwhY>

  He puts a copy of Oliver Twist

  on every desk

  and says,

  Your reading assignment has changed.

  Please turn to the preface so that we can begin.

  We have some catching up to do,

  if we’re to finish the book before

  you retake the assessment.

  He looks down at a sheet of paper on the desk,

  looks up,

  says,

  Benita Ybarra,

  please begin reading.

  And, yeah,

  his brain?

  It’s full of shiitake mushrooms,

  if he thinks

  for one second

  I’m reading this

  instead of

  the end of

  Save Ur Server, Save Urself.

  I mean,

  we’re almost done!

  Are we going to save the server

  and ourselves

  or what?!

  I’m pretty sure Oliver Twist

  can’t answer that question.

  Only we can.

  And it’s Ben Y,

  you dink.

  JORDAN J

 

  First of all, we are so close to being finished with Save Ur Server, Save Urself by Tennessee Williamson, there is no way in a million years I’m going to start reading a new book. I mean come on I have never finished reading a book ever and now that we’re at the end he’s going to take it away and make us start over again on some old book with 9893673547 pages and words that are so tiny they dance like fleas???? That is just more nopes than I can nope right now and I have been noping A LOT lately.

  Second of all, where in the world is Ms. J (no relation, but exact same name!). Maybe she’s mad at us for messing up her teacher FART or maybe she’s sad that she probably failed it or maybe she has the stomach flu which can really knock you out trust me I know, or duh duh duh duh, of course! She’s probably watching back-to-back episodes of Fierce Across America and eating ice cream until she feels better because that is what I do when I’m sad or mad and of course that’s what she’s doing because we are both Jordan Js which makes us the same even though there’s no relation.

  I wish I was eating ice cream and watching Fierce Across America right now.

  [fart noise]

  JAVIER

 

  BEN B

 

  She’s not in class.

  Again.

  It’s been days.

  And days.

  And days.

  No typing.

  No Sandbox.

  No Save Ur Server, Save Urself.

  Only stupid Oliver Twist

  and stupid

  Mr. Maillot

  and everything is stupid

  and UGH.

  It’s not possible that we got her fired,

  right?

  It’s not possible that she’s never coming back,

  right?

  It’s not possible that Mr. Maillot just said the FART retake is

  on MONDAY,

  right?

  BEN Y

  <0BenwhY>

  My book flushing,

  my book choice,

  the two of us taking the

  computers,

  my yelling at her,

  my crashing through the door,

  my smashing Maillot’s nose,

  my tripping her

  as I collapsed,

  crying with Jordan J . . .


  Is Ms. J gone

  because she finally had enough?

  Is all of this

  Oliver Twist torture,

  and no Sandbox,

  and Maillot’s

  blah blah blah-ing

  about the FART retake being on MONDAY

  (arrrgh!)

  technically

  and

  officially

  my fault?

  Did Ms. J get fired?

  Because of me?

  Or worse,

  did she quit?

  Because of me?

  JORDAN J

 

  I’m just saying, if Ms. J (same name, no relation) is still eating ice cream and watching Fierce Across America we might need to have an intervention or something because it has been a lot of days and my mom always says you can’t just sit in front of the TV, Jordan, you have to feel the sunshine on your face, and where is Ms. J’s face in relation to the sunshine today, that’s what I’m wondering while I’m trying not to wonder if we got her fired and might never see her again.

  I’m also wondering if Mr. Maillot could make this class any more boring not that that’s a challenge it’s just that Ms. J managed to teach us all the same things in a non-boring way so now we know that it’s possible and knowing that it’s possible to learn things in fun and divergent ways makes Mr. Maillot’s boringness even worse, you know, like he’s trying on purpose to make everything terrible or maybe he’s just clueless like I was which I guess is fine because it can be fixed but also he just said the FART retake is next Monday and I’m not super great at math but even I know that if you add being terrible plus being mostly clueless plus the FART retake next Monday, then that equals please please Ms. J get back here as fast as you can.

  JAVIER

 

  BEN B

 

  She said it was okay.

  She said the accommodation is in my file.

  She said there’s a FART retake

  designed for the computer,

  for kids like me,

  to type our answers,

  to make things more equal. . . .

  My voice wobbles

  more than I want it to,

  but I don’t move

  from this spot,

  from my computer.

  I keep standing,

  just like Spartacus did

  in the movie Jordan J made us watch,

  and he was right,

  it was pretty good,

  and Spartacus was pretty brave,

  and maybe I can be brave, too.

  Mr. Maillot points to my desk.

  My old desk.

  The one he’s made me sit in

  since Ms. J disappeared.

  Ms. Jackson was unable to arrange the

  teacher discretion accommodation

  before . . . before I arrived.

  And if you are not in the 504 system,

  I am unable to help you.

  Please take your seat.

  I hear the words

  coming out of his mouth,

  my stomach flip-flops.

  Then I hear the words

  coming out of my mouth:

  Ms. J . . .

  she would never, ever

  not have arranged the accommodations

  unless . . .

  unless . . .

  I glance at Ben Y,

  at Jordan J,

  at Javier,

  their faces look scrambled,

  like my flip-flopping guts.

  Unless . . .

  Is she in trouble?

  She didn’t . . .

  she didn’t get fired did she?

  I mean, we had a deal,

  Ms. J and I.

  And I know now,

  she doesn’t go back

  on her deals.

  She would never do that.

  Unless . . .

  BEN Y

  <0BenwhY>

  I watch Ben B,

  refusing to move,

  standing his ground,

  just like Spartacus

  in the movie Jordan J made us watch,

  in his living room,

  eating cheese puffs,

  like we were all

  friends friends

  and not just friends

  with an asterisk.

  Ben B is calm,

  he’s telling the truth,

  he wants answers.

  I do, too.

  We all do.

  I look down at the sheet

  on my desk,

  all the bubbles,

  all the answers

  empty,

  unguessed.

  Florida Rigorous Academic Assessment Test

  We all worked so hard

  preparing for this day.

  And Ms. J,

  maybe she worked the hardest

  of us all

  and no way

  no way

  would she miss this day,

  unless . . .

  Where is Ms. J?

  Like, actually?

  Where?

  Why isn’t she here?

  My voice echoes Ben B’s questions,

  and it’s loud,

  louder than I expected.

  Almost as loud

  as when I yelled at Ms. J,

  when I was burning,

  flaming mad at her,

  and it doesn’t even matter

  if I’m still mad at her

  because everything that’s happening

  today,

  yesterday,

  all these days with Maillot . . .

  something isn’t right.

  Something is definitely,

  definitely

  wrong.

  She’s not at school.

  She’s not in chat.

  Oh no—

  My brain turns cold.

  Could all this be

  because she’s mad?

  At me?

  I refuse to believe it,

  even if the wonder seeps in,

  even if, ugh, it almost makes sense.

  My voice gets even louder:

  Did she really get fired?

  For what?

  I stand up.

  I shake the test at him.

  You don’t get answers,

  until we get answers.

  Mr. Maillot scrunches his face,

  folding his lips and nose

  into such a sharp point

  he could maybe use it

  to dig a tunnel

  through the wall,

  escaping all of us

  and our questions.

  Sit down.

  His voice is loud, too.

  His pointy face narrows even more.

  SIT DOWN.

  And that’s when everyone else

  stands up.

  JORDAN J

 

  I feel like I might have to make a not-good choice in a minute because this Maillot guy is telling Ben B to move away from the computers and sit at his desk so we can start the testing on time and Ben Y is asking where the heck Ms. J (same name!) (no relation!) is because it has been a LOT of days since we saw her and she would have to be melted by a ghost or abducted by aliens to miss the actual FART retake day that we’ve all been planning for for a million weeks, except Ben Y doesn’t say melted by a ghost or abducted by aliens, she says fired and that fills my brain with more wrinkles than a dress shirt you find wadded up and lost under the reusable grocery bags in the trunk of your mom’s car. Fired? Oh man, oh man.

  Now we’re all standing because mean-voiced Maillot shouted at Ben Y and Ben B to sit down and then Javier says out loud in his own deep voice B-B-B-Ben B already has acc-acco-mo-mo-modations and th-th-that’s as g-g-good as a 504 unless y-y-you wa-wa-want to be a di-di-dink about it and the guy says QUIET and I bet that’s the first time ever in the history of everything that anyone has ever told Javier to be
quiet.

  Everyone is standing and I think maybe we are Spartacusing without even realizing we’re doing it!

  Javier yanks his answer sheet off of his desk and holds it up so we can all see it and what there is no way he could be finished by now because we don’t even have the question booklet yet and I squint so I can see Javier’s amazing ESP answers and WAIT ONE SECOND, I just noticed that Florida Rigorous Academic Assessment Test does not spell FART, it spells FRAAT, and I am going to have to think about that a lot later because even though that is a major discovery an even bigger major discovery is that we are totally Spartacusing in sync and I knew they were going to like that movie and oh man Javier is going to fail the FART but it will be so worth it. He grabs his stuff, drops the answer sheet on Mr. Maillot’s desk that is really Ms. J’s desk that is really a table, and he walks out of the classroom.

  It doesn’t take long for the rest of us to follow Javier’s lead and drop our answer sheets on Mr. Maillot’s desk that is really Ms. J’s desk that is really a table, and I know that this whole thing that is happening right now is probably medium important to the whole big world, but it feels very, very important to our world under the stairs, and I hope our parents realize that when we all fail the FART (FRAAT!) retake with, like, big goose egg zeroes.

  [fraat noise]

  BEN B

 

  Dad’s mouth hangs open.

  I can see the bite of chicken