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Chapter Text

               The Teacher has a cold, again. You hate when this happens. Third grade is hard enough with all its numbers and spelling and dates (and what is a date, really, if not a string of numbers putting on airs?). How can you possibly be expected to memorize fractions, adverbs, and the ever-shifting impermanence of time when right in front of your eyes The Teacher has a cold again?

                Her left cheek is already skinless—you hope it flaked off in the shower instead of falling into her cereal this morning or dropping onto the sidewalk where your dog might eat it. Most of the fat has already dribbled out in greasy smears down her jaw and the front of her shirt, but soft yellow tissue still sticks out from the jagged edges of her remaining face-skin. The exposed muscles glisten in hues of dark reds and pale pinks that undulate impatiently while she lectures on… on…

                “Wah-wah-wahwah-wah.”

                She’s asking you a question. You don’t even know what subject she’s talking about. You’ve been watching her nose slowly detach all morning and now her septum is bouncing on her upper lip. You look at your notes—maybe your hand took some good ones while your ears weren’t paying attention—but all that’s there is sketches of baseballs and airplanes.

                The Teacher is waiting for an answer—what do you do?

• Ask her to repeat the question (Go to 1A)
• It was probably a math question—guess a number (Go to 1B)

Chapter Text

1A

                “I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t quite catch that.” You admit, “can you repeat the question?”

                “Wahwah,” The Teacher asks you again to answer what’s two squared. That one’s easy. That one’s just two times two, which is just two plus two.

                “Four,” you tell her.

                “Wahwah.” The Teacher praises you.

                Math ends. The Teacher’s nose falls off her face and onto the floor. Everyone politely looks away to let her kneel down and put the nostrils in her skirt pocket. Her upper lip, the philtrum you remember it’s called from early anatomy classes, flakes off and drifts off lazily into the sunny day.

Her face is now just the impression of looming interest, a mandible, and two full sets of teeth. One set of teeth is smiling. The other set slowly undulates. The last time The Teacher had a cold, she used this feature to model the Milky Way for an impromptu astronomy lesson. Now she says, “Wah wah-wahwah wah.”

                A project? You groan. This is so sudden. You’re not ready for this. She hasn’t even told you which subject it’s for!

                The Teacher begins calling kids to her desk with her first set of teeth spread uncomfortably wide. One by one, they reach inside her face and pull out an egg. You wonder if she stores dairy there to free up space in the refrigerator. Boy, your mom would sure be happy to find any trick to free up space in the refrigerator. You wish there was a polite way to ask The Teacher how she does it.

                You’re ready when she calls your name this time, you walk to the front and reach inside.

- Reach with your left hand (2C)

- Reach with your right hand (2D)

Chapter Text

1B

1B

“Uh…” What were you learning right now? Math? You bet it’s math. You’re terrible at math even when you’re paying attention. Yeah. It has to be a math question. Now, all you need to do is pick a number and hope for the best. You clear your throat and say, louder, “Four.”

                Everyone laughs at you. The Teacher’s wahwah guffaws make her nose jiggle like a frightened marionette.

The blood rushes to your cheeks (but not—and this is important—through the pores of your cheeks which is more than you can say for The Teacher) and you try to will your body to collapse quickly and quietly into itself to end your humiliation. But you’re only in third grade and you won’t be capable of that kind of concentrated density until at least seventh or eighth. So, instead, you slouch lower and lower into your seat until your eyes can barely see above your desk.

                “Wah wahwah.” The Teacher repeats. Her nose dives into her coffee mug with a sound like the whispered oath. The hole where her face is nose’nt is dark and muddied with the color of infinity.

Good grief. You forgot about the spelling test today.

“Sorry, ma’am.” You put everything away except for a pencil and a piece of paper. It doesn’t seem very fair to have a spelling test the same day that The Teacher’s nose has fallen off. That’s one of her noise-modulating organs, you learned that at the beginning of the year. How are you supposed to know what word she wants you to spell when she’s missing one of her noise-modulating organs? Should you say something?

- Raise your hand—someone needs to say something! (2A)

- Keep your hand down—you’ve already suffered enough humiliation. (2B)

Chapter Text

2A

               You look around and no one’s hand is in the air. It’s up to you, you realize. The whole class is counting on you, and you won’t let them down. You put your hand up.

                “Wahwah?” The Teacher calls on you. You clear your throat and prepare to say what you have to say. It’s only…

                You look down at the paper on your desk. Numbers and symbols look back at you with obvious disdain. Why did you think The Teacher needs her nose to give you a math test? Good grief.

                Everyone is staring at you. The Teacher’s eyes have gone milky, but there is a soft blue light fixed on you from the abyss where her nose used to be. You need to think of something to say quickly before everyone laughs at you again. What do you say?

- “Ma’am, your nose has fallen off and inside of you I see a thousand potential futures, each one more horrific than the last.” Tell it like it is! (3C)

- “Ma’am your throat sounds scratchy, would you like a cough drop?” It’s always best to be polite. (3D)

Chapter Text

2B

2B

               You look around the room, no one else seems worried. Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe you didn’t pay attention to the anatomy lesson. Maybe you’ve been so busy trying to think of the best strategy to get your team ready for the new baseball season that you haven’t been paying attention.

               That’s still not good. If you haven’t been paying attention, then you probably still aren’t going to do that good on this spelling test regardless of if the teacher’s words can fit inside your head or not. Oh, why didn’t you pay attention? You haven’t even come up with a single good strategy, yet. You promised the team that last year was the last time Peppermint Patty took home the pennant. You are going to fail the spelling test and you don’t have one new idea on how to whip your team into shape. If you had studied, you still wouldn’t have any new ideas but you might have a fighting chance at passing the spelling test.

                “Wahwah wah wah,” The Teacher says, and that’s exactly what you hear. Oh no. You had paid attention during the anatomy lesson. The Teacher did use the nose as a noise-modulating organ. Now all you have is swimmer’s ear and the strong impression of cowering in the corner, watching your closet door slowly creak open to let the shadows pour in.

                How do you spell this concept?

- Bedtime (3A)

- Bedthyme (3B)

Chapter Text

2C

                You pull out a rock.

                The whole class laughs at you. You think about asking to pick a different egg, preferably one that’s an egg this time, but she’s already calling up Linus.

                “I guess it’s just you and me, little rock-egg.” You try to say it in a paternal tone. At least as paternal as your vocal cords can get. You sit back down in your seat and place your rock-egg on your desk. You sure hope the assignment isn’t to incubate the egg until it hatches. If it is, you’re going to have to smash the rock open and then find some pebbles and hope the teacher believes they’re newborn chicks. You hope not. You’re not sure that you’ll have the heart to smash your rock after spending a whole week with it.

                “Wahwah wah wah wahwah.”

                The Teacher tells you all to take out your markers and draw a face on your egg before taking notes. This will be your baby for the next seven days. You will keep a journal of everything you did with the baby that day, including what you did to feed and care for it. Over the weekend, you will take your baby out for at least one activity and write about it in detail.

                “I don’t know if I’m ready for this kind of responsibility.” You tell Linus on the bus ride home.

                “I think that’s the point, Charlie Brown.” His egg is cushioned by his blanket. Your rock is inside your backpack. It stared at you with accusing googly eyes as you zipped it up into darkness, but you don’t want him to get lost. “I don’t think anyone is ever really ready for this kind of responsibility.

                “Now, Schroeder, it’s important that the twins see us spending as much time together as possible.” Lucy is in the seat in front of you. She has Schroeder trapped in the window seat. “I think we should do dinner at your house tonight, and the girls will stay with you. Then, tomorrow, we’ll do dinner at my house and—”

                “Ludwig isn’t a girl.” Schroeder replies firmly.

                “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to feed a rock.” You say, miserable.

                You ask Snoopy what he thinks about it once you get home. He thinks about it, then gestures for you to show him your rock-baby. You pull Coalette out, his googled eyes are spinning. Snoopy takes him from you and examines him closely before nodding to himself and gesturing for you to follow him into the kitchen.

                You go inside. Snoopy sets Coalette on a clean dish towel on the counter. He pulls grape jelly out of the refrigerator and places it next to Coalette. Then, he takes out peanut butter and sandwich bread from the pantry. He combines the three ingredients with quick slashes of a butter-knife before tossing the sandwich high into the air. With one more slash, the crust flies free before the sandwich lands back on the place. He holds it to Coalette’s black-marker smile. Your rock takes one small bite and chews carefully. You hold your breath, then release it when the rock takes another and another. Snoopy yelps when Coalette accidentally bites his finger. Coalette laughs at him, then yelps when Snoopy bites him back.

                Coalette starts crying. You pick up the rock and cradle him in your arms, making shushing and glaring sternly at your beagle, “bad dog!”

                He yells back at you, indignant. Woodstock flies in threw the window and starts shaking his fist and yelling in perfect sync. You roll your eyes. Good grief, why can’t you have a normal dog like everybody else?

                “I know he bit you first.” You say, “but you could see it was an accident. He was just hungry. He’s just a baby. You have to be nice to him.”

                Snoopy argues more, waving his arms and pointing.

                “Alright, that’s a fair point.” You look at the rock and tell him, “Coalette, you shouldn’t laugh when you see someone get hurt. It’s not a very nice thing to do, understand?”

                Coalette stares at you with unblinking googled eyes.

                “There.” You look back to Snoopy, “and you need to be more gentle around Coalette. He’s very small, and you could hurt him easily. And I don’t want to get a bad grade.”

                Snoopy grumbles more, but he doesn’t seem to want to continue to fight. He walks back outside with his little bird friend just behind. You think that’s the end of it, but then he walks back inside with his dog bowl, demanding to be fed.

                It’s surprisingly easy to take care of Coalette. You find out in the morning that he likes the same kind of cereal as you. And at school, he has no problem sitting on your desk. He gets along very nicely with the other eggs at lunch and recess, when The Teacher allows you all to leave your babies to go eat and play.

                “That egg is a model citizen, Charlie Brown.” Linus says.

                Finally, it’s Saturday morning. You wake up and your mother has made bacon and toast for you and Coalette. You spoke with her earlier to ensure there would be no eggs while you did your assignment. Now it’s time to choose your and Coalette’s big weekend activity. What will you two do?

Fly a kite! (3F)

Play ball! (3E)

Chapter Text

2D

                The eternally gaping abyss is dry and cold, so cold that you can barely feel your fingers already. You hope you don’t become too numb and accidentally crush your egg. You pull your hand out and, to your relief, your egg is unharmed. The Teacher calls up the next student.

                “I wonder what I’m supposed to do with you.” You tell your egg when you sit back down. The egg rests in the middle of your desk, revealing nothing. There’s several more rows of kids to go through, and you’re growing impatient wondering what the project will be. You pull out some markers and start drawing on your egg until you’ve given her a crooked smile, a big nose, and two black-dot eyes with circles drawn around them to be her glasses. Her name, you decide, is Egg-selsior. You wonder if she likes baseball. You wonder if she’d be a better right fielder than Lucy. You wonder if she could possibly be a worse right fielder than Lucy.

                “Wahwah wahwahwah.”

                Good grief. Your class is doing an egg-drop. Egg-selsior is going to die.

                How will you stop Egg-selsior from breaking on impact?

-              Build a stick-cage with Egg-selsior secured in the middle! (3G)

-              Wrap Egg-selsior in a blanket! (3H)

Chapter Text

3A

                B-E-D you chew on your pencil thoughtfully. You’re feeling confident on the first part of the word. Bed is a baby word. Bed is for your kid sister to struggle through and figure out. But bedtime? The size of it has you a little worried. You think of the lovely quilt your grandmother made for you that protects you from the crackling dark even when your lazy dog forgets to. In her sewing room, your grandmother has a pillow embroidered with the words “a stitch in time, saves nine.” Soon, the week will be over and you’ll go over to her house on Saturday for lunch. Cheered up by this thought, you finish

                BEDTIME.

                There. That makes you feel a little better. Your certain that’s correct. You wished you had looked at your spelling list after it was handed out on Monday. Interpreting The Teacher would be a lot easier if you could remember any of the words. You suppose, though, if you remembered the words, you would remember them on the page and therefor remember how to spell them.

                “Wahwah Wah wah wah.” The sharp sting of saltwater down the back of your throat and a melancholy song for a crew of the damned.

                SHIPPREKKEDE

                You’re not certain about the number of Es you put down, but you vaguely remember that there’s a hidden letter somewhere in the word. At least you put down something.

                The next eight words leave your ears ringing and a pulsing ache in your forehead, but that always happens on test days.

                Finally, blessedly, the test is over. By now, The Teacher’s philtrum has curled up and flaked away out the window. Her face is just the impression of disinterested purpose, a mandible, and a full set of teeth. The teeth are smiling. She knows you are all destined for great things.

                Well.

                At least most of them are.

                You can’t even come up with a new idea to get your team in shape to win this season’s baseball pennant. And now you probably failed the spelling test.

                “Wahwah.” The Teacher tells you to all swap your papers for grading. Her voice doesn’t hurt now that it’s not trying to fit into such minute shapes as words. She holds a piece of chalk with the thumb and only remaining finger of her right hand to spell the words out on the board. First she writes

                B-E-D-T-I-M-E

                You stare in shock. You can’t believe it! You got it right! You got the first one right! This has to be a sign! Everyone knows a good start indicates a strong finish.

                The Teacher writes the next word

                H-A-R-M-O-N-Y

                And you groan. Good grief. You weren’t even close with that one.

                M-O-U-N-T-A-I-N

                Another miss! You can’t stand it. You’re doomed.

                C-R-I-E-S

                You perk up. A hit! That one’s a hit! Now you’ve reached a blessed equilibrium. A precious balancing act that holds you suspended between failure and victory. There’s hope! There’s still hope!

                The teacher writes

                L-Y-R-I-C

                When you get your paper back, it has 2/10 written on the top. Inside the 0 is a frowny face. Next to the numbers is written

                BETTER STUDY NEXT TIME, CHARLIE BROWN.

Chapter Text

3B

                B-E-D you chew on your pencil thoughtfully. You’re feeling confident on the first part of the word. Bed is a baby word. Bed is for your kid sister to struggle through and figure out. But bedtime? The size of it has you a little worried. You think of Mom cooking in the kitchen stretching her arm out further and further and further to grab the seasoning across the room. You can picture the spice rack so clearly your stomach starts rumbling. Soon, the day will be over and you can go home for dinner. Cheered up by this thought, you finish

                BEDTHYME.

                There. You remember, now, this word was on your spelling list this week. You remember most of the words on your spelling list, even if you don’t remember how to spell them. That makes you feel a little better. Even if the teacher has a cold, most of the words should be distinct enough to know which one to write down. The next nine words leave your ears ringing and a pulsing ache in your forehead, but that always happens on test days.

                Finally, blessedly, the test is over. By now, The Teacher’s philtrum has curled up and flaked away out the window. Her face is just the impression of disinterested purpose, a mandible, and a full set of teeth. The teeth are smiling. She knows you are all destined for great things.

                Well.

                At least most of them are.

                You can’t even come up with a new idea to get your team in shape to win this season’s baseball pennant. And now you probably failed the spelling test.

                “Wahwah.” The Teacher tells you to all swap your papers for grading. Her voice doesn’t hurt now that it’s not trying to fit into such minute shapes as words. She holds a piece of chalk with the thumb and only remaining finger of her right hand to spell the words out on the board. First she writes

                B-E-D-T-I-M-E

                You groan. Good grief. This was going to be a massacre on your progress report card.

                Next, she writes

                H-A-R-M-O-N-Y

                And you perk up. That’s what you wrote! You got at least one word right!

                After that is,

                M-O-U-N-T-A-I-N

                And now you’re smiling a little. That’s two. So far you’ve missed one but got two. You’re winning. You almost don’t want her to go on. What if you got the next word wrong, and your victory or failure became suspended in eternal balance? What if you had to wait until the end of time for it to tip one way or the other?

                C-R-I-E-S

                Oh no, you jinxed yourself. You got too confident and you jinxed yourself. You thought this word was easy. You thought it was just cry with an ‘s’.

                L-Y-R-I-C

                The balance has tipped back towards victory! Your faith in the letter Y is restored!

                Your good mood lasts the rest of the review. You only missed two words! You got an 80%! That was a B, a solid B! You must have been so focused on coming up with ideas for the new baseball season that you focused on your studies without realizing it! This is a sign! This has to be a good sign!

                “Linus,” you say, filing out the door when the day ends. It ended a little early for your class once The Teacher lost the necessary rigidity to hold form, “I think we’re going to have a new pennant this year.”

Chapter Text

3C

There are some things of which we must not speak, Charlie Brown.

Chapter Text

3D

                “Wahwah.” She accepts your offer, sounding slightly touched. You rummage quickly through your backpack and find one of the many paper-wrapped monstrosities your mom always makes sure you pack during winter. The Teacher stretches her arm out further and further to you. You place the cough drop carefully between her thumb and pinky—the only currently-fleshed parts of her hand. She places gently between her full sets of teeth, still wrapped.

                “Wah-wah-wahwah.” She says without disturbing her prize. Head down, you start the test.

                10/2=

                You groan. How in the world are you supposed to know the answer to that? How have you already started on division, when you were still getting to know multiplication? How have you already started to division, when you still aren’t all that sure about subtraction? Well, what is ten minus two? Eight. You’re pretty sure about that much. And this is division, the number definitely has to be less than eight. The number has to be more than two, because two times two is four. You’re really sure about that one. And four is an awfully far away number from ten, so it probably isn’t five. Maybe six? Six is a good amount lower than eight and higher than four. It seems the most logical answer. You hope your logic is sound. You finish the equation

                10/2= 6.

before moving on.

                The next day when The Teacher hands your tests back, she is wearing a witch mask and robes that cover her entire formless form. You can’t stand to look, but you have to. A big fat 5/30. Next to your score, written in The Teacher’s same red pen, is a +1 accompanied by a smiley face and the words ‘thank you for the cough drop.’

Chapter Text

3E

                Peppermint Patty’s Pelicans massacres your team right in front of Coalette’s unblinking googled eyes. At least this won’t be a complete loss, since you think you can pen down a very thrilling recount of the day. You write vivid details in your journal, trying not to cry as you form words around the surprisingly tender moments that happened during the game and the life-changing adventure you had with Coalette on your way home. You make no mention of the secret you and Coalette will now forever share. That is just between the two of you and Snoopy.

                The Teacher gives you a C-, admonishing you for egg-endangerment and suggests you won’t be ready for fatherhood for quite a long while yet.

Chapter Text

3F

                You’ve been saving the old red pajama shirt for a special kite occasion and this being Coalette’s only weekend with you seems to fit the bill. You cut it into fabric and secure it onto the frame. Finally, you tie it to your string and take the kite and the rock to the park.

                “I think we have a good chance of making it work,” you tell Coalette. He sits on your head, under your backwards baseball hat and peaking out from the gap. You put the kite on the grass and take a few steps back, letting out some string. “Ready? Okay!”

                You start running away with all your might. Please, you think, please let this be the day your kite flies. Please don’t embarrass yourself in front of Coalette. You hear other kids talking as you race past them, but the wind is too loud in your ears for the words to get through. You look back and see your kite rising into the air. You’re doing it! You’re doing it! You’re flying a kite! You look ahead and run even faster.

                This is it, you think. All you needed was for someone to believe in you, and you could do it. You just needed Coalette’s encouragement and now you can fly a kite. You’re flying a—

                CRASH!

                You hear something that sounds an awful lot like a terrible crash of wood and leaves. Then the string jerks taut and you instinctively tighten your grip to not lose it. Then you’re screaming! Pinwheeling high into the air as the kite-eating tree swings you into the air. You arc upside down over the evil being, reaching out your arms and begging “Nooooooo!” when both your hat and Coalette tumble off your head and into the hungry branches below.

                “You know, Linus,” you tell your best friend later at the wall, once you’ve had time to grieve and eat dinner, “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for fatherhood. There are too many things that can go wrong.”

                That same night, nestled deep in the hidden hollow of a kite-eating-tree, Coalette’s marker smile splits into fissures that crack his mouth wide open to let a string-eating-sapling sprout out. The tree coos happily and feeds him a bit of string. The little boy has always been so kind to her, always making sure she’s well-fed. And now he’s brought her this precious gift, she thinks, she will have to find a way to thank him.

Chapter Text

3G

                Foolish choices lead to a fool’s conclusion, Charlie Brown.

Chapter Text

3H

                You decide the best possible thing to do is wrap Egg-selsior in something soft and impenetrable. When you were still very little and could easily fit into the ravenous mouth of something nameless, your parents told you there was nothing on this plane that could provide more protection than a nice, soft blanket. You always felt safe armored in the quilt your grandmother gave you.

                The Teacher hands out the supplies and, occasionally, one of your classmates will wordlessly hand The Teacher her hand right back. You take fabric squares and a glue stick when they reach you and go about creating a colorful quilt to wrap Egg-selsior in. You finish before everyone else except for Linus, who has given his own precious blanket to his egg.

                The Teacher leads you all outside. Her cold seems to have gotten mildly better. You can almost see the tendons working through the clear gelatinous substance that will become her new skin.

                “You two blockheads are something else.” Lucy tells you and her brother when she sees what you both have done. She carries her egg on a fabric-square platform that has been glued on top of two mouth-blown balloons.

                “I’m afraid men of our genius are often ridiculed in their time,” Linus says to you. You nod, knowingly.

                “I bet your egg breaks before the first drop even begins.” Lucy rolls her eyes.

                “I’ll take that bet, Lucy.” You say. Being backed by Linus, the smartest boy in your class, is making you feel smart by association. You’re going to do something right today.

                The Teacher stops at the monkey-bars. She starts to speak, but stops when there’s a sudden loud CRACK from your hands. You pull the quilt back just enough to see that

                Oh no!

                Egg-selsior has somehow already cracked!

                Another loud crack startles you and you drop Egg-selsior on the ground. She shatters apart to reveal…

                One of Woodstock’s cousins, shaking his little head and squeaking angrily about being disturbed. From somewhere in the sky Woodstock himself teeters down with three other cousins in tow. They all hug and chitter happily with their newest member and brush the egg-dust off. Without a word of hello or goodbye to anyone else, they take back off towards the sky.

                “See, Charlie Brown?” Lucy elbows you in the stomach, “I was right.”