The Fabled Fifth Graders of Aesop Elementary School by Candace Fleming Page B

it.”
    Then, wiggling and giggling, they cha-cha-chaed their way down the sidewalk and into the jewelry shop.
    In the Yarn Barn, Ernest said, “I can’t wait to tell the guys about this.”
    On the corner, Rose said, “I can’t wait to tell the girls about this.”
    And they both shivered with anticipation.
    *   *   *
    On Monday morning, before the bell rang, Ernest raced to where the fifth-grade boys had gathered on the tetherball court.
    “Guys, you’ll never guess what I saw this weekend!” he cried.
    “A zebra wearing a mink?” asked Lenny.
    “Ze mink wearing ze bra?” asked Bruce.
    Ernest shook his head. “Mr. Jupiter and Miss Turner, and they were”—he lowered his voice—“wrestling.”
    “Wrestling?” repeated Humphrey. “Like arm wrestling?”
    Ernest shook his head again. “Like
wrestling
wrestling,” he whispered.
    He waved the boys closer, then glanced around to make sure no teachers were within earshot. “Miss Turner had Mr. Jupiter in a chin lock and wouldn’t let go.”
    “Get serious,” snorted Stanford. “There’s no such thing as a chin lock.”
    “There is too,” argued Ernest, “and Miss Turner can do one. I saw it with my own eyes.”
    Lenny spoke up. “I believe it. Miss Turner’s alibrarian, and librarians know lots of stuff that other people don’t.”
    “It’s all that book reading,” added Lenny.
    The others nodded.
    “Then what happened?” asked Emberly.
    Ernest lowered his voice again. “She pushed him, and shoved him, and kneed him in the chest.”
    “No!” gasped the boys.
    “Yes,” insisted Ernest. “And the whole time poor Mr. Jupiter’s head is snapping up and down and right and left. It was brutal.”
    Stanford snorted again. “Get serious. Miss Turner is too small to push Mr. Jupiter around.”
    “She did it, though,” argued Ernest. “I saw it.”
    Lenny spoke up again. “I believe it. Miss Turner may be small, but she’s strong.”
    “It’s all that book toting,” added Bruce.
    “Then what happened?” asked Emberly.
    Ernest waved the boys closer still. In the center of their huddle, he whispered, “Mr. Jupiter must have gotten dizzy from being knocked around so much, because he started to walk all wiggly and funny—like one of those guy contestants on
Dancing with the Sort-of-Celebrities.”
    “That’s embarrassing,” said Calvin. “Being beaten up by a librarian and dancing in public.”
    The others shuddered.
    “Then what happened?” asked Emberly.
    Ernest paused for effect before saying in an ominous voice, “She dragged him into the jewelry store.”
    “And?” prodded Emberly.
    “And I bought four skeins of recycled-silk yarn and went home,” said Ernest.
    “What?” cried Emberly. “You mean you didn’t shadow them? You didn’t tail them? You didn’t do any sleuthing?”
    “I had to be home by two,” said Ernest.
    “Argh!” wailed Emberly in frustration.
    “One doesn’t need to be a sleuth to figure out what happened,” said Stanford with a sniff of superiority. “It’s obvious that Miss Turner bullied Mr. Jupiter into buying her some jewelry.”
    Ham spoke up. “Poor Mr. Jupiter.”
    The others nodded in agreement.
    “Maybe we should send him an encouragement card,” Ham went on. “My mom always sends me encouragement cards whenever bad stuff happens. One time, I ate too many chocolate crullers and threw upand I got a card that read: ‘Things will get better, I have a hunch, even though you lost your lunch.’”
    Lenny snickered. “Yeah, our card could read: ‘Unlike Ham, you didn’t hurl. Instead, you got beaten up by a girl.’”
    “Get serious,” snorted Stanford. “Mr. Jupiter’s been through enough humiliation. He’s been degraded, discountenanced, and mortified. Do we really want to add to his discomfiture?”
    “Huh?” said Ham.
    “Quit using next week’s vocabulary words and speak English,” grumbled Calvin.
    Stanford translated. “I don’t think we should let on