Here Comes Mr. Trouble

7

It didn’t dawn on Eric until he woke Friday morning that he’d forgotten to fix his bicycle, so he would have to walk to school. To make matters worse, he’d overslept, meaning his walk would have to be more like a run if he didn’t want to be late again. That’s what he got for staying up late reading the pamphlet from Mr. Trouble.

At least he remembered to stick the tracking discs in his backpack and his pants pocket. The unicorn necklace was another matter. Mr. Trouble had neglected to mention that the unicorn’s eyes were pink rhinestones and that its horn was covered in glitter. He weighed the possibilities of complete embarrassment if one of his friends spotted the necklace in his bag against that of him being in a situation where he needed the Troubles’ help right away. The first seemed more likely so the unicorn stayed home.

He alternated between running fast and running faster as he tried to avoid another tardy. He was a block away when he heard the warning bell. With only two minutes left to get to class, he put his head down and sprinted the rest of the way.

Stopping by his locker to pick up his math book was out of the question. He’d just have to wing it. He hoped he’d be in less trouble for not bringing it than he would be for being late.

The tardy bell started ringing as he opened his classroom door, and ended just after he plopped down at his desk.

He smiled to himself. He’d actually made it. Maybe…maybe things were getting better. He sneaked a peek at Maggie. Her desk was across the aisle and one row back.

“Thought I was going to be late,” he whispered, smiling. “Can’t believe I made it.”

But there was no smile on Maggie’s face. Instead, her lips were pressed tightly together in a straight line. Apparently she was still mad at him. But then she nodded toward the front of the class.

Eric felt a sudden dread that Ms. Lindgren, their homeroom and first-period math teacher, was standing a few feet away, looking down at him. He turned around slowly, hoping she wasn’t going to give him a tardy anyway. But Ms. Lindgren was clear on the other side of the room, going through her briefcase at her desk.

He glanced back at Maggie, holding up his hands and silently asking her “what?” She nodded toward the front again. He turned and looked once more. Nothing there.

She is mad at me, he realized. She just doesn’t want me looking at her. Fine. Whatever.

Another moment later, Ms. Lindgren closed her briefcase and walked over to the lectern.

“Good morning, class,” she said.

There was a chorus of “good morning, Ms. Lindgren.”

“Before I take roll, I have some introductions to make. We have two new students starting with us today.” She smiled at someone sitting up front.

Eric, whose desk was in the third row back, barely paid attention.

“They’re sisters,” Ms. Lindgren said. “Twins, I’m told. Though not identical, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” someone in the front row said.

Eric sat up. The voice sounded very familiar.

“Ladies, do you mind standing up so everyone can see you? Class, these are the Leatherwood sisters.”

A chair scraped back on the tile floor, and a moment later a second chair did the same. The two new girls stood up and turned to the class.

They weren’t Leatherwoods, and they weren’t twins, either.

They were the Trouble sisters.

“This is Fiona,” Ms. Lindgren said. “And this is Keira.”

Both girls gave unenthusiastic waves and sat back down, neither having made eye contact with Eric or Maggie.

Someone tapped Eric on the arm. He looked down and saw a folded piece of paper being held out to him by Jerome Usher, the guy who sat behind him. He took the note and unfolded it in his lap as Ms. Lindgren took roll.

What are they doing here?

The handwriting was Maggie’s.

Eric gave her a quick look over his shoulder, shrugged, then turned back so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

But trouble seemed to be something he wasn’t going to be able to avoid.

“Nancy Long?” Ms. Lindgren said.

“Here.”

“Henry Miner?”

“Here.”

“Eric Morrison?”

“Here,” Eric said.

Ms. Lindgren paused. “Eric, it’s nice of you to actually make it on time today. I assume you’ve actually done your homework, too.”

“Yes…”—oh, no—“…ma’am.”

His math homework. He had done it. In fact, he’d done it during lunch the day before and stuck it in his math book so he wouldn’t forget it. His math book that was still in his locker.

He was able to get through the class by sharing Jerome’s textbook. As soon as the bell rang, he headed quickly for the door so he could catch up to the Trouble sisters.

“Eric?” Ms. Lindgren said.

Eric stopped in his tracks. “Yes, Ms. Lindgren?”

“I did a quick look through the homework stack and didn’t see any with your name on it.”

His shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I did do it. I just forgot it in my locker.”

She held up a finger, indicating he shouldn’t move. Then, once the other students had all left, she said, “I know you’re a good student, Eric. You’ve been doing great so far this year. But the past couple weeks you’ve just fallen apart. Is something going on? Is everything all right at home?”

Not even close. “Everything’s fine at home.”

“Then why the tardies? Why the missing homework?”

“I did do my homework. It’s in my locker. I swear!”

She was silent for a moment. “All right. You go get it and bring it back to me now. If you do that, I’ll mark you as turning it in on time.”

“But…”

“But what? You did do it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I did it.”

“If you’re worried about being late to your next class, I’ll write you a pass.”

He took a breath then nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

He exited the classroom and looked around. As he’d feared, neither Fiona nor Keira was around. But Maggie was.

“What took you so long?” she asked.

“I left my homework in my locker. Ms. Lindgren wants me to go get it.”

“You want me to come with you?”

Eric shook his head. “She said she’d write me a pass if I’m late, but I don’t think she’d write one for you, too. I’ll just meet you in Spanish.”

She gave him a smile. “At least you’ll get credit for your homework this time.”

He walked toward his locker, his head down, his mind on his problems. There had to be a cause for all this, something he must have done. But he had no idea what it could have been. Distracted by trying to figure out what it could possibly be, he turned the corner into the hallway where his locker was located.

“Hey!”

With a stutter step, he came to an abrupt halt. Standing less than a foot in front of him was Peter Garr.

“Sorry,” Eric said, trying to move around the other boy.

But Peter stepped in front of him. For a split second, Eric wondered if the bigger boy was going to start sniffing the air again.

“You need to watch where you’re going,” Peter said. Unlike at the library two days ago and last night in Maggie’s front yard, he was talking like he normally did.

“You’re right,” Eric replied. “I should have been paying attention. I’m sorry.”

As Peter grunted, Eric tensed, preparing himself to be pushed to the ground. But the bully surprised him. “Next time, I won’t be as nice.”

He knocked shoulders with Eric as he walked off, but that was as bad as it got.

The sense of relief Eric felt was intense. Maybe my luck is turning.

He had a smile on his face as he walked the rest of the way to his locker, but as soon as he saw what was waiting for him, it disappeared.

If his luck was turning, it was only going from bad to worse.