Mrs. Roopy Is Loopy! Read online

  “Roopy?” the guy said in a funny voice. “You young ’uns must be confusin’ me with some other feller. My name is Johnny Appleseed. It’s the year 1800. I travel from town to town plantin’ apple trees most everywhere I wander.”

  “You are not Johnny Appleseed!” Andrea called out. “You’re Mrs. Roopy!”

  “Ain’t never heard of no Roopy,” the guy said, making his forehead all wrinkly. “Appleseed’s the name. Plantin’ apple trees is my game. This here’s a darn big country, and I reckon folks are gonna need a heap of apples.”

  No matter what we said, we couldn’t convince the bearded guy with the pot on his head that he wasn’t Johnny Appleseed. He read us a story about Johnny Appleseed and told us lots of stuff about apples.

  “Did you know that folks have been eatin’ apples for thousands of years?” Johnny Appleseed told us.

  “They should chew faster,” I said, and everybody laughed.

  Then Johnny Appleseed took us outside and helped us plant a real apple tree near the playground. Before we went back into school, we had apples for snack.

  I can understand why he planted all those apple trees. I can understand why he was dressed funny. But what I don’t understand is why he wore a pot on his head. That Johnny Applesauce guy was weird.

  When we got back to class, I told Miss Daisy all about what happened during library period.

  “Do you still think books are boring, A.J.?” she asked me.

  “Yes,” I said.

  7

  One Small Step for Man

  By this time, we weren’t sure if Johnny Appleseed and George Washington had been to our school, or if it was just Mrs. Roopy dressed up in funny costumes. But we were sure of one thing.

  Mrs. Roopy is loopy!

  “We have to have proof,” Michael said. “My father is a policeman, and he said that if you want to be sure of something, you have to have proof. He always says the proof is in the pudding.”

  “What does pudding have to do with it?” I asked.

  “Beats me,” said Michael.

  “Your dad is weird,” I said.

  “How are we going to prove that Mrs. Roopy is dressing up in funny costumes?” Ryan asked.

  “We’ll get her fingerprints!” Michael said, all excited. “That’s what my dad does. Everybody in the whole world has different fingerprints. If we get Johnny Appleseed’s fingerprints and then we get Mrs. Roopy’s fingerprints, I can have my dad test them. If they are the same fingerprints, then that will be proof that Mrs. Roopy was just pretending to be Johnny Appleseed!”

  Me and Ryan agreed that Michael was a genius. The next time we had library, we brought a juice box with us, so we could get Mrs. Roopy’s fingerprints.

  But when we came into the library, all the lights were out and the shades were down. It was really dark. At first we thought the library was closed. Then we heard a noise. It came from the top of the tree house. We all looked up.

  Somebody was coming down the ladder. Whoever it was had on a spacesuit and was moving in slow motion.

  Some music began playing over the loudspeaker. “The Eagle…has landed,” the astronaut said. Finally the astronaut reached the bottom rung of the ladder. It was hard to see a face through the space helmet.

  “It’s got to be Mrs. Roopy!” Andrea said.

  “I’m not Mrs. Roopy,” the astronaut said. “My name is Neil Armstrong. It is 1969. I am about to become the first human being to set foot on the moon.”

  Slowly Neil Armstrong put one foot on the floor of the library.

  “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,” he said.

  We tried to convince Neil Armstrong that he was really Mrs. Roopy dressed in a spacesuit, but he kept saying he had never heard of anyone named Roopy. Neil Armstrong spent the rest of the period showing us books about the moon and the sun and the stars and outer space. It was almost not boring, but not quite.

  “Would you like some juice, Mr. Armstrong?” Michael asked, holding out the juice box.

  “No thank you,” Neil Armstrong said. “I’ve got to be getting back to Earth now. And I believe you have to go back to Miss Daisy’s class.”

  Then he climbed up the ladder and into the tree house. Michael was disappointed that he didn’t get Neil Armstrong’s fingerprints.

  When we got back to class, I told Miss Daisy all about Neil Armstrong stepping on the surface of the moon for the first time.

  “Wow, that sounds exciting!” Miss Daisy said. “Do you still think books are boring, A.J.?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  8

  Nursery Rhyme Week

  The only way to prove that Mrs. Roopy was dressing up in silly costumes and pretending to be other people would be to get her fingerprints. Me and Ryan and Michael were determined to get them the next time we had library.

  “When do we have library this week?” we asked Miss Daisy.

  “Oh, there is no library this week,” she said. “The whole school is celebrating Nursery Rhyme Week in our classrooms.”

  “Oh man!” I said. “We wanted to go to the library.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Michael and Ryan.

  Miss Daisy looked all surprised. She put her hand on my forehead the way my mom does when she thinks I have a fever.

  “Are you sick, A.J.?” Miss Daisy said. “There must be something wrong with you if you want to go to the library. Didn’t you say all books are boring?”

  “They are,” I said. “I just want proof that Mrs. Roopy was pretending to be George Washington, Johnny Appleseed, and Neil Armstrong. We have to get her fingerprints.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” Miss Daisy said. “Mrs. Roopy is a perfectly normal lady.”

  Miss Daisy took out a big fat Mother Goose book. She opened it and was about to start reading when this weird-looking girl skipped into the classroom. She was all dressed up in a puffy dress and she was holding a big cane.

  “It’s Mrs. Roopy!” we all shouted.

  “I’m not Mrs. Roopy,” the girl said. “My name is Little Bo Peep. I seem to have lost my sheep. Do you know where I can find them?”

  “Nope,” everybody said.

  “Maybe they’re in the dungeon on the third floor,” I said.

  Michael tried to get her fingerprints, but Little Bo Peep went skipping out of the classroom before he could get a juice box.

  “That was weird,” Emily said.

  “What kind of a name is Peep, anyway?” I asked.

  Miss Daisy read us some nursery rhymes from the Mother Goose book. What kind of a name is Goose, anyway?

  After a while, this other girl came running into our classroom. She was holding a bucket in her hand.

  “It’s Mrs. Roopy again!” we all shouted.

  “Who are you now, Mrs. Roopy?” Emily asked.

  “I’m not Mrs. Roopy,” the girl said. “My name is Jill. I ran up a hill with my friend Jack to fetch a pail of water. But Jack fell down and broke his crown. I went running after him, but now I have no idea where he is. Have you seen him?”

  “Nope,” everybody said.

  “Try the dungeon on the third floor,” I said.

  “You must be thirsty from all that running,” Michael said. “Have some juice.”

  “No time for that,” Jill said. “I’ve got to find Jack.” And then she ran out of the classroom.

  After lunch we were at recess out in the playground when we noticed somebody sitting at the edge of the grass under a tree. We all ran over to investigate. It was Mrs. Roopy, of course, dressed up in another silly costume.

  “Are you Little Bo Peep again?” Emily asked.

  “Heavens, no!” said Mrs. Roopy. “My name is Little Miss Muffet. It’s a lovely day, so I thought I’d just sit on this tuffet and eat some curds and whey.”

  “What’s a tuffet?” I asked, trying to peek under Miss Muffet.

  “What’s a curd?” asked Ryan.

  “Yuck,” Michael said. “Curds sound disgusting!”
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  “I’m going to throw up,” Ryan said. “That’s even worse than what they serve in the cafeteria!”

  “Wouldn’t you rather have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” I asked.

  Andrea and Emily came over while we were talking with Little Miss Muffet. Andrea started to tell us what curds and whey and tuffets were, but she never got to finish. This obviously fake spider came down from the tree over Miss Muffet’s head. She took one look at it and ran back to school. Michael didn’t even have the chance to get her fingerprints.

  That lady is weird.

  It went on like that for the rest of the week. All these nursery rhyme characters kept popping up with no warning all over the school.

  “Who are you now?” we would ask.

  “I’m an old woman in a shoe. I have so many children I don’t know what to do.”

  “Maybe you should put some of them in the dungeon on the third floor,” I said.

  In the next few days we were visited by Wee Willie Winkie, Georgie Porgie, Tommy Tucker, Simple Simon, Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater, and some guy named Jack who kept jumping over a candlestick for no reason at all. I guess it was the same Jack that girl Jill was looking for.

  It was nonstop all week! I can’t say for sure, but I’m pretty sure at least some of those nursery-rhyme characters were actually Mrs. Roopy.

  9

  Mrs. Roopy’s Problem

  Something was wrong with Andrea. She wasn’t raising her hand in class every second. She wasn’t bragging to everybody how much she knew about everything. She wasn’t pestering me like she usually did. It was like she was sick or something.

  “What’s the matter, Andrea?” Emily asked her during recess.

  “I’m worried about Mrs. Roopy,” Andrea said. “I’m afraid she might have a serious personal problem.”

  “You’re the one with the serious personal problem,” I said. “Mrs. Roopy is like the coolest lady in the history of the world. Would you rather have some boring librarian who didn’t dress up in costumes or anything and all she did was read boring books to us?”

  “No, but my mother is a psychologist,” Andrea said. “She told me that some sick people have more than one personality. Like one minute they think they are one person, and a minute later they actually think they are somebody completely different. The whole time they actually think they are all these people. I’m afraid that Mrs. Roopy might have this problem. She can’t tell the difference between the real world and fantasy.”

  “Wow,” Michael said. “That sounds pretty serious.”

  “We’ve got to help her!” Emily said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “A librarian who doesn’t know the difference between fiction and nonfiction is in big trouble.”

  “But what can we do?” Ryan asked.

  We all put on our thinking caps. Well, not really. There’s no such thing as a thinking cap. But you know what I mean.

  After a good long think, I came up with a great plan.

  10

  The Evidence

  There were five minutes left in recess. Ryan, Michael, Andrea, Emily, and I sneaked in from the playground through the door to the library.

  “Shhhhh!” I said as we tiptoed into the library. “Follow me.”

  Lucky for us, the library was empty. Mrs. Roopy was probably eating lunch in the teachers’ room.

  On our hands and knees, we made our way past the nonfiction books to Mrs. Roopy’s office. The door was unlocked. I opened it.

  “We’re going to get caught,” Emily said. “We’re going to be kicked out of school and thrown in jail for the rest of our lives.”

  “In here,” I said, ignoring Emily. “This is where we’ll find the evidence.”

  We were inside Mrs. Roopy’s office. I wanted to turn the light on, but Michael told me that when his father is doing a secret investigation, he never turns the lights on. We tried to see the best we could with the light that came in through the window.

  “Do you see any evidence?” Michael said.

  “Not yet.”

  It was just a bunch of boring stuff. Pictures of Mrs. Roopy’s daughter. Papers. Videos. Junk. No evidence at all.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Emily said. “I’m scared.”

  “Not yet,” I said.

  There was a closet by the corner. I pulled the handle. It wasn’t locked.

  And there, inside the closet, was all the evidence we would ever need. George Washington’s uniform. Little Bo Peep’s dress. Johnny Appleseed’s overalls. Neil Armstrong’s spacesuit. Every single costume Mrs. Roopy had been wearing was hanging right there in the closet.

  “This is the proof!” Michael said. “All those people were just Mrs. Roopy dressed up in costumes.”

  “I told you so,” said Andrea.

  “You did not!” I said.

  “Did too!” she said.

  “Oh, you think you know everything!” I said. “Well, you’re not so smart!”

  That’s when the light flicked on. It was Mrs. Roopy, standing in the doorway looking at us.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” she asked. She had her hands on her hips, so we knew she was mad. For some reason, grown-ups always put their hands on their hips when they are mad.

  “I had nothing to do with it!” Andrea said. “It was all A.J.’s idea!”

  Everybody was looking at me. I had to think fast. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in jail.

  I grabbed George Washington’s uniform out of the closet.

  “What’s the meaning of…this?” I said, holding up the costume. “You told us you were home sick in bed and George Washington was here instead of you. How do you explain the fact that George Washington’s uniform is in your closet? Huh?”

  We all turned to look at Mrs. Roopy.

  She just stood there for a moment and then…she broke down crying. She was sobbing and big tears were running down her face. It was so sad that we all gathered around her and gave her a hug. Emily was crying too.

  “This is horrible!” Mrs. Roopy said, wiping her eyes with a tissue.

  “You’ll be okay, Mrs. Roopy,” Andrea said. “We’ll get you some help.”

  “No, it’s horrible!” Mrs. Roopy cried. “George Washington must have left his uniform in my closet when he was here. Do you know what this means?”

  “What?”

  “It means George Washington is running around somewhere with no clothes on!”

  11

  Just Admit It!

  It was no use. Even after we proved to Mrs. Roopy that she was dressing up as all these characters, she still wouldn’t admit it.

  “Mrs. Roopy is in denial,” Andrea said when we got back to the classroom. “I’ll bet you don’t know what that means, A.J.”

  “Sure I know what ‘denial’ means,” I said. “It’s that river in Africa.”

  “Not the Nile, dumbhead! Denial! It means she can’t admit to herself that she has a problem.”

  “So what are we supposed to do now?” Michael asked.

  “There’s only one thing we can do,” Andrea said. “We’ve got to tell Mr. Klutz.”

  Mr. Klutz is the principal, which means he is like the king of the school. One time I got into trouble and was sent to Mr. Klutz’s office. When I got there, he didn’t punish me. He gave me a candy bar. Mr. Klutz is nuts!

  We told Miss Daisy that we had to speak with Mr. Klutz and that it was a matter of life and death. She called the office and in a few minutes Mr. Klutz arrived.

  Mr. Klutz has no hair at all. We told him all about the crazy things Mrs. Roopy had been doing and how Andrea’s mother is a psychologist and she thinks Mrs. Roopy might have a big problem.

  “We’re really worried about her,” Emily said.

  “Hmmm, this sounds pretty serious,” Mr. Klutz said. “Maybe we’d better go have a little chat with Mrs. Roopy.”

  Mr. Klutz led us down the hall to the library. When we got there, Mrs. Roopy was lying on the floor under the tree house. S
he was holding her head like it had been hit. Not only that, but Mrs. Roopy was really fat. It looked like she had gained about a million hundred pounds!

  “What happened, Mrs. Roopy?” Michael asked. “Are you okay?”

  “Mrs. Roopy? Who’s that?” Mrs. Roopy said. “My name is Humpty Dumpty. I was sitting on that wall up there, and I had a great fall.”

  “Don’t tell me,” Andrea said. “All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put you back together again. Right?”

  “How did you know?” Mrs. Roopy asked.

  “You’re not Humpty Dumpty!” Andrea said. “You’re Mrs. Roopy, our librarian! Just admit it!”

  “It doesn’t matter who it is,” Mr. Klutz said. “There has been an injury. I need to write a report and give it to the Board of Education.”

  “You can give it to me,” I told Mr. Klutz. “I’m bored of education.”

  Everybody laughed even though I didn’t say anything funny. Mr. Klutz said he had to go call a doctor for Humpty Dumpty. Mrs. Roopy got up off the floor and dusted herself off.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “I have a question.”

  “Yes, A.J.?” asked Mrs. Roopy.

  “Your name is Humpty Dumpty, right?”

  “Right.”

  “What I want to know is, why did your parents name you Humpty? I mean, if their last name was already Dumpty, they could have named you John or Jim or Joe or something normal. But they had to go and name you Humpty?”

  “Well, actually, Humpty is just my nickname,” Mrs. Roopy said. “My real name is Lumpy.”

  “Lumpy Dumpty?” I said.

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Roopy. “So you can see why I’d rather be called Humpty.”

  Andrea was getting all angry now. Mrs. Roopy was simply not going to admit she wasn’t Humpty Dumpty.

  “Nursery Rhyme Week is over, Mrs. Roopy!” Andrea said. “You can be yourself. You can stop pretending to be other people.”