And still, more Brandon...

CHAPTER 2

Open House

Time passed extremely slowly for Brandon that evening. He pulled on some fancier clothes and tidied his room and then they finally left for the Open House at a quarter past seven—just late enough to miss the PTA meeting where brownies were voted back into the school lunch plan.

As they walked up, Brandon thought it was rather creepy seeing the school at night. The bright light shone from out of every classroom window. The halls were filled with movement; noisy children leading their somewhat befuddled parents in and out of classrooms.

Just out of the corner of his eye he saw a little boy, who couldn’t have been older than four shouting, “Look mommy ‘dis is gonna be my a-new a-school-a!” The mother looked up at the room labeled “K-1” with a wide smile on her face.

Brandon shook his head at the soon to be Kindergartener and the boy’s mother. Kids are always excited to start, but Brandon knew better. Once a kid spent a year or two in the school he’d wish he were home again, watching cartoons and playing with action figures.

“Alright, Sweetie,” Brandon’s mom said patting him on the back, “Should we go to your room first?”

“Yeah.” Brandon smiled as he thought about his picture of the Amazon.

The two walked up the crowded hallway and soon approached Room 9. The door was wide open and bore a sign stating “Welcome to Mr. Davenport’s Third Grade Class: Make Yourself at Home!” Brandon guided his mom through the classroom and highlighted some of the more interesting things on the walls including the African mask he had made out of plaster, a multiplication test on which he earned one hundred percent, and the painted map of South America and the Amazon that sat upon his desk.

“You really did an excellent job on this.” His mother told him holding up his map examining it more closely.

“Thanks, Argentina is a little too big. But I--” But Brandon was cut off by Mr. Davenport who approached his mother.

“Why hello there, Brandon!” Mr. Davenport greeted, “Thanks for coming out here tonight.”

“So good to see you again, Mr. Davenport.” Brandon’s mom replied shaking Mr. Davenport’s hand. Brandon smiled at his teacher. It was funny seeing Mr. Davenport in a suit and tie; normally he wore Hawaiian shirts and his hair was all shaggy. Tonight his salt and pepper hair was combed and he looked more like a news reporter than the teacher Brandon knew during the day.

“Brandon really worked hard on that South American map, I’d say it is one of the best in the class.” Mr. Davenport commented giving Brandon a thumbs up.

“I was just commenting on that as well. Say, Mr. Davenport I was wondering about next…” But Brandon’s mom’s voice trailed off. “Brandon, could you…?” his mother said in a voice, which only meant it was time for Brandon to step away so his mom could talk about him.

“OK. I’ll go get a drink from the drinking fountain.” Brandon said without needing a prompt. Mr. Davenport smiled at Brandon but quickly fixed his attention on Brandon’s mom.

Brandon stepped over to the drinking fountain but made sure to keep an eye on his mother and teacher. He watched as Mr. Davenport folded his arms. Mr. Davenport always did this when he was trying to think of a difficult math problem to write on the board.

His mother waved her hands in the air and gestured toward the windows. Brandon looked toward the windows. He saw the last three Spelling Tests plastered against the windows. He recounted the tests in his head. Each was well over 85%. Why would they be talking about those?

Brandon looked back at Mr. Davenport and his mother. Mr. Davenport scratched his chin. Mr. Davenport only did this in class when a he misplaced his glasses or a white board marker. Next, Mr. Davenport pointed toward the back door. Brandon looked toward the door. There was a large display of the solar system tacked above the door. Brandon had done the artwork on the asteroid belt next to Mars. He knew he did a good job on that project as well.

Brandon looked back toward his mother and teacher. Mr. Davenport pointed toward the same window this time and nodded his head. Brandon recognized this look on his teacher’s face as the one Mr. Davenport had made when Principal Hotchskins gave him a note telling him he would have to supervise Detention after school.

Just at that moment Brandon thought he saw his mother frown but it was hard to discern as a family blocked his view. A fat boy who Brandon recognized as a second grader accompanied by his parents waddled into the classroom. The boy’s mother brushed passed Brandon and pointed toward the back table where Mr. Davenport had placed the pink and yellow sheet earlier that day.

The mother shook her head as she lifted the sheet up, “See, Clark I told you. This will never work for Eustace. He’s trying to cover up his clutter.”

The man nodded back at her and the three walked out of Room 9 muttering something about cleanliness being next to godliness.

Brandon saw his mother coming toward him. Mr. Davenport had wandered into the sea of visitors.

“Well, are you ready?” she asked closing the clasp on her purse.

“What did you just talk to Mr. Davenport about?” Brandon questioned.

“Oh, don’t you worry about it. We just talked about how wonderful you are.”

Brandon knew when adults were covering up the truth, just like Mr. Davenport’s attempt to hide his mess under the sheets. There must have been more to the conversation than just how great he was. Besides, if they were talking about how great he was he could have stuck around to hear that.

“What were you really talking about?” Brandon started in.

“Never mind, Brandon.” His mother quickly silenced him. Brandon knew not to bring it up again, well, at least for a few hours. “Now let’s go check out your… options for next year.”

Brandon didn’t like the pause his mother took in the middle of her sentence. But worse than that he heard the two words he didn’t want to hear. The two words that would ruin an entire summer: next year.

Brandon felt a funny rumbling in his stomach. Brandon, like any average kid did not like meeting new teachers. And besides that Brandon had only twice set foot on upper grade territory. At Brandon’s school there were strict rules for primary students to stay on their side of the campus. But there was the day when Mr. Davenport had Brandon deliver a message to a sixth grade teacher and the other time when his four square ball bounced across the blacktop onto the older kid’s part of the playground. Both times his stomach gave that same rumble.

“Do we have to, mom?” Brandon whined.

“No whining. We always do, sweetie.”

“But—I mean—” Brandon couldn’t think of a single excuse not to, other than the funny feeling inside of his stomach, which had now grown and moved to be a heavy thumping in his chest.

“Come on, we’ll start over there in Room 12.” His mom motioned just outside the door of his classroom. “Then we’ll go to Room 13.” She motioned out the window.

The window and the door! That’s what Mr. Davenport was pointing toward. That’s what they were talking about. The most horrible thing a parent and a teacher could ever discuss: NEXT YEAR! And more horrible, was what was awaited Brandon.