Carter averys tricky fou.., p.1
Carter Avery's Tricky Fourth-Grade Year, page 1
ALSO BY ROB BUYEA
The Daredevils
What Comes Next
THE MR. TERUPT SERIES
Because of Mr. Terupt
Mr. Terupt Falls Again
Saving Mr. Terupt
Goodbye, Mr. Terupt
THE PERFECT SCORE SERIES
The Perfect Score
The Perfect Secret
The Perfect Star
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2024 by Rob Buyea
Cover art, hand-lettering, and interior illustrations copyright © 2024 by Alexandra Bye
Owl ornaments and jelly roll art used under license from stock.adobe.com
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
Trade ISBN 9780593376188
Library Binding ISBN 9780593376195
Ebook ISBN 9780593376201
Editor: Beverly Horowitz
Cover Designer: Jade Rector
Interior Designer: Cathy Bobak, adapted for ebook
Copy Editor: Colleen Fellingham
Managing Editor: Tamar Schwartz
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CONTENTS
Dedication
Prologue: The Truth
Part I: End of Third Grade
Chapter 1: Meet Your Teacher Day
Chapter 2: Scarface
Chapter 3: Two Truths and One Lie
Chapter 4: My Three Things
Chapter 5: Mr. Wilson
Chapter 6: Brynn and Torrie
Part II: Summer
Chapter 7: Summer Reading
Chapter 8: Farmer Don’s
Chapter 9: Collecting Eggs with My Teacher
Chapter 10: Brynn’s Up Early
Chapter 11: Library Trip
Chapter 12: Swim Lessons
Chapter 13: End of Summer Reading Celebration
Chapter 14: Now You See It, Now You Don’t
Part III: Fall: The Start of Fourth Grade
Chapter 15: The Bulletin Board Warning
Chapter 16: The Real Ms. Krane
Chapter 17: A High-five Kick
Chapter 18: The Secret
Chapter 19: My Seat Gets Even Better
Chapter 20: “Artificial” Research
Chapter 21: Big Chickens
Chapter 22: If I Was in Charge
Chapter 23: Field Trip
Chapter 24: Cows and Heifers
Chapter 25: Scrambled Eggs and Baby Chicks
Chapter 26: The Red Chair
Chapter 27: Word Boy
Chapter 28: I Need Answers
Chapter 29: The Artificial Truth
Chapter 30: The Proof Is in the Pudding
Chapter 31: Making Our Play Yard
Chapter 32: Dragon Slayer
Chapter 33: Thinkers, Not Simon Saysers
Chapter 34: Fly High!
Chapter 35: Trick-or-Treating
Chapter 36: My Wish Comes True
Chapter 37: Something to Think About
Chapter 38: The Crow
Chapter 39: A Good Friend
Chapter 40: Surprises
Chapter 41: We Have Visitors
Chapter 42: Pipping
Chapter 43: Pit Stop
Chapter 44: No Romance
Chapter 45: Little Chick’s Big Trip
Chapter 46: Invitations
Chapter 47: Thanksgiving
Chapter 48: Good Goes to Bad
Part IV: Winter: Shape Up or Ship Out
Chapter 49: Lieutenant Boss
Chapter 50: Nobody Knows Nothing
Chapter 51: Nail in the Coffin
Chapter 52: The Ship Goes Down
Chapter 53: Something Was Wrong
Chapter 54: Striking a Deal
Chapter 55: Swim Scrimmage
Chapter 56: Kritz’s Tree Farm
Chapter 57: Near Collision
Chapter 58: Timber!
Chapter 59: Keeping Busy
Chapter 60: Heavenly Diner
Chapter 61: We’ll See
Chapter 62: Detour
Chapter 63: Mail Delivery
Chapter 64: Told You So
Chapter 65: School Gets Better
Chapter 66: Egg-Stronauts
Chapter 67: Sometimes Simpler Is Better
Chapter 68: Egg Drops
Chapter 69: Letting Off Steam
Chapter 70: Christmas
Part V: A New Year, a New Project
Chapter 71: An Unexpected Note
Chapter 72: The Rest of the Story
Chapter 73: The New Project
Chapter 74: Pass the Brainstorm
Chapter 75: January Lessons: Dos and Don’ts in the Kitchen
Chapter 76: Me and Grams Get Tricky
Chapter 77: Grams Is the Person
Chapter 78: Gerber’s Gourmet Gifts
Chapter 79: Party!
Epilogue: End of Fourth Grade
God’s Country
Acknowledgments
About the Author
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FOR FRANÇOISE, BECAUSE ONLY MENTIONING YOU IN THE ACKNOWLEDGMENTS IS NEVER ENOUGH
Prologue
THE TRUTH
When I first heard the rumor that Ms. Krane was pregnant, I immediately felt sorry for that baby. I was dreading being stuck with her as my fourth-grade teacher for one year; I couldn’t imagine being stuck with her as my mother for the rest of eternity. That kid might as well not even be born, ’cause when it got here, its life was gonna be awful.
Part I
END OF THIRD GRADE
1
MEET YOUR TEACHER DAY
We had this big thing at Bates Elementary called Meet Your Teacher Day. It happened at the end of the year, with everyone gathered outside on the blacktop behind the school. I had my fingers crossed, hoping not to see Ms. Krane, ’cause if she really was pregnant, then she wouldn’t be teaching come September and I could stop worrying. I don’t think a pregnant lady can teach fourth grade.
I should’ve crossed my toes too. She was there—and she sure didn’t look like she had a baby on the way. Stupid rumor. I bet Missy Gerber started it. I kicked the ground. Then I quick double crossed all my fingers on both hands ’cause I needed all the luck I could get so that I didn’t get stuck with Ms. Krane.
Every class from kindergarten all the way to fifth grade had a designated area where we sat and hung out while the teachers huddled in the middle—all except for Ms. Krane. She stood by herself, kinda like me whenever we had to choose partners for anything. Me and Ms. Krane weren’t the same, though. No way.
Ms. Krane stood by herself ’cause she was mean. She was the meanest and nastiest teacher to ever step foot in a classroom. She was pretty old, I think like thirty-five or forty. She taught somewhere else before coming to Bates last month. Everyone said she got fired from her old school for being so mean.
She’d been hiding in the library ever since getting here, working as Ms. Beecher’s assistant. Ms. Krane was rarely spotted, but now she was coming out of hiding ’cause next year she was getting her own classroom—and I wanted no part of it. No one did, ’cause not only was she mean, she was scary-looking. And that was the truth.
Ms. Krane had this giant reddish-p urple mark that covered the left side of her face, all the way from her chin up past her eye. She reminded me of a raccoon, except her first name was Olivia and all the kids called her Owl-ivia—or the Owl, for short—’cause she could twist her head all the way around like an owl, which meant you could never do anything sneaky behind her back and get away with it. If you tried, she’d see you and then you were a goner.
I was sitting by myself at my lunch table when I overheard Kyle Pattie telling his buddies what happened after he tried shoving a book back on the shelf in the library where it didn’t belong—which was Ms. Beecher’s big no-no, but everyone did it.
“ ‘That’s not how we do things here,’ a voice behind me whispered all creepy. I could feel her hot breath on the back of my neck!” Kyle exclaimed. “I spun around and there she was, looming over me. I swear, she came out of nowhere, and when I looked up at her face, she made her purple eye narrow. Then she pulled my book out of the wrong spot and said, ‘I’ll take care of it this time—but not the next.’ And she made that sound like a warning,” Kyle finished.
His wasn’t the only story I heard. There were others. If Ms. Krane could make the library scary, her classroom was gonna be the worst. I crossed my fingers super tight.
Here’s how this meet-your-teacher thing worked: Starting with first grade, each teacher stepped forward and read off the student names on their new roster. When your name was called, you got up and went and stood in line with your new teacher. Then you walked to your next year’s classroom with your next year’s class and spent the last half hour of the day meeting your new teacher and classmates. The kindergarten teachers stayed behind with the fifth graders on the blacktop ’cause the preschoolers weren’t here yet and the fifth graders were moving on to the middle school. So fourth grade was second to last—and that stunk ’cause I wasn’t very good at waiting.
When it was finally our turn, Ms. Krane was the first teacher to step forward, and all of third grade got real quiet. I held my breath and crossed my arms and legs and eyes. I had to do everything I could for extra good luck.
I wasn’t supposed to have to wait long to find out if I was doomed or not, but then the Owl started with the end of the alphabet first. By the time she got to the As, my face had gone from red to blue. But breathing too early would’ve been bad luck, like breathing when you drive by a graveyard. You should never do that.
Little twinkly stars began popping up in front of me. I got wobbly—but I didn’t breathe. And then Ms. Krane read the final name on her list.
“Carter Avery,” she hooted.
The kids in Ms. Krane’s line groaned and the ones still sitting near me on the blacktop sighed.
Normally I moved real fast. I was real good at running everywhere. The harder thing was sitting still. But I felt light-headed and dizzy.
“Carter Avery,” the Owl hooted again.
It wasn’t odd for teachers to call my name more than once, but I’d heard her the first time. I just needed a second to get air.
“Get in line, Carter,” Missy Gerber whined from her spot behind Ms. Krane.
With the Owl and Missy Gerber, I was getting a double dose of awful for fourth grade. “I’m coming!” I yelled. “And you’re not my boss.”
Controlling my outbursts was one of the things I was supposed to be working on. That and sitting still. I had a lot of improving left to do on both.
“Missy, would you please come to the front of the line,” Ms. Krane said.
I grinned. Now, that was unusual. Normally I was the one teachers called to the front. Missy glared at me and I stuck my tongue way out at her. That’s what she got for being a bossy pants.
I grabbed my bag and got in line. The kids ahead of me grumbled and complained, but I was used to hearing that stuff whenever I got stuck in a group.
So anyway, there we were, the teacher no kid wanted and the kid no teacher wanted. What a start.
2
SCARFACE
Ms. Krane puffed her chest and stood perfectly straight. Then she turned and marched us to her room. We walked single file and didn’t make a peep ’cause like I said, an owl can twist its head all the way around.
The fourth-grade classrooms were upstairs. They were the only ones there. You heard about them sometimes, but you never got to see them until you made it. Kinda like the Owl. I’d heard about her, but I’d never really seen her up close.
All that changed when she stopped outside our new room and spun around to stare at us. Ms. Krane was a taller, skinnier version of an owl with long hair. She wore these black pointy glasses that didn’t hide her purple scar, but they did give her scary triangle eyes, just like the great horned owl. She sized us up and got ready to give us our orders, but my words jumped out first.
“What happened to your face?” I blurted. Told you self-control was one of the things I was supposed to be working on. I was trying. Really. But I just couldn’t hold that in any longer.
Kids snickered. Missy Gerber gasped. “Carter!” she shrieked. “Ms. Krane, Carter doesn’t have a filter on his mouth. He’s sorry.”
“I appreciate your concern, Missy, but Carter can ask if he wants. I imagine he isn’t the only one wondering. He just happens to be the brave soul to speak it out loud.”
Ms. Krane zeroed her eyes back on me. “My face is covered by a birthmark called a port-wine stain,” she explained.
“I thought it was a scar,” I said, all confused. “That’s what I heard.”
“In many ways it is,” she replied.
That made my forehead wrinkle. “What do you mean?”
“My mark has made life challenging for me, Carter.”
“But what made it happen to you?”
“No rhyme, no reason. No one’s fault. I was just born with it.”
After she said that, I got quiet. I didn’t always understand everything teachers said, but I understood being born a certain way. Grams says I came out fidgety and full of life from the get-go. Only my mother could get me to settle down when I got upset. Grams says my mom had a way with me. But she’s gone now.
My parents died in a car crash when I was just a baby. Sometimes you’re born a certain way—and sometimes things just happen for no rhyme and no reason. I understood that too.
Since I finally stopped with my questions, Ms. Krane went ahead and gave us our orders. “When you enter, I’d like you to drop your bags by the door and take a seat. You may sit in any open chair.”
Teachers say I don’t do a good job of following directions, but if they did a better job of giving directions, then maybe I’d be better at doing exactly what they meant. I dropped my bag and raced to the chair I wanted.
“Carter, you can’t sit there!” Missy Gerber shouted.
I was ready to tell her to put a sock in it, ’cause I was still working on self-control, but the Owl beat me to it.
“Missy, I will be the teacher. You worry about you,” Ms. Krane scolded. “Mr. Avery has followed my directions to a T. He dropped his bag by the door and found an open seat. Perhaps you’re upset because he got that chair and not you?”
