Boy Trouble Page 6

  “I’m organizing them into categories,” Emma explained. “So I can answer two or three at a time. Like these three are what I call ‘fashion freak-outs.’ These students don’t know what to wear or if they should dress to impress at the dance. I’m going to give them some style advice.”

  “I see,” Mr. Goddard commented. “And what about this one?”

  Emma read the question over carefully. “Oh, that’s an easy one. This girl needs a quiet spot to ask a boy to the dance without all his buddies hanging around and listening in. I’m going to tell her to sit under the big oak tree at the edge of the soccer field—that’s a nice, quiet, little spot that not a lot of people know about.”

  “You certainly seem to have things under control,” Mr. Goddard said, impressed. “I’m sure your fellow students are very grateful.”

  “Well, now that you mention it, there is one question that has me a little stumped,” Emma said, pulling a piece of paper out of her backpack. “I printed it out to show you. Maybe you have some ideas?”

  She handed Mr. Goddard an Ask Emma letter she had typed herself—pretending to be in Principal Bates’s shoes:

  Dear Emma,

  I always seem to have so much work to do! I never have time to look for love, because I am up to my ears with my responsibilities. I wish I knew where I could find someone who likes the same things I do: tea, glazed donuts, Shakespeare’s sonnets. Do you think there is someone out there looking for love himself?

  Signed,

  Busy Bee

  Emma watched as Mr. Goddard read the note. “So what should I write?” She opened her laptop. “Dear Bee . . .”

  “Emma, I don’t think this note is from a fellow seventh grader,” Mr. Goddard said, slowly. “I think it might be from an adult.”

  “Really?” Emma pretended to be shocked. “Do you know of an adult who works all the time and likes to drink tea and eat glazed donuts at her desk while reciting Shakespeare?”

  Mr. Goddard cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I don’t.” Emma suspected her advisor knew exactly who fit this description but wasn’t about to admit it.

  “Well, whoever it is seems very interesting,” Emma added. “I think I’ll go look up some Shakespeare quotes for my response.”

  She left the computer lab and hid behind the door to the storage closet, waiting to see what Mr. Goddard would do next. Sure enough, he walked out of the room, slicked his hair back with his hand, and headed down the stairs, straight for Ms. Bates’s office.

  “It’s working!” Emma squealed. She ran down the stairs and straight into Jax, who was checking the track-meet schedule on the bulletin board outside of the main office. Great, the last thing she needed was for him to distract her!

  “Did Mr. Goddard just go in there?” she asked him.

  “Um, yeah, I think so. Why?”

  “No reason,” Emma fibbed.

  Jax watched as she paced back and forth outside the office. “I know there’s a reason,” he said. “When you’re this anxious, there’s always a reason.”

  Emma ignored him and tried to stand still—but her feet had a mind of their own.

  “Are you in trouble? Is that why Mr. Goddard went in to talk to Principal Bates?”

  Emma scowled. “Seriously? Why do you always assume the worst, Jackson? Why do you always think I’m up to something that will get me in trouble?”

  “Um, because I know you, Emma,” he replied. “When you have your mind set on how to help someone, you go for it, no matter what the consequences will be.”

  Emma finally stopped pacing. That sounded strangely like a compliment.

  “I’m not in any trouble—not that I know of,” she said. “But thanks for worrying about me.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” Jax said. “I have other things to do with my time.”

  Now that sounded like a brush-off!

  She had no time to give Jax a piece of her mind—she had to hear what was going on inside Ms. Bates’s office. She stood at the door with her ear pressed against it, trying not to look too obvious.

  “Is there something you need?” the school receptionist, Ms. Iyala, asked her.

  “Nope. Just hangin’ out, waiting to ask Mr. Goddard a question. I saw him go in.”

  She handed Emma a yellow Post-it Note. “I can take a message for you and give it to him.”

  “It’s okay,” Emma said. “I don’t mind waiting.”

  Ms. Iyala frowned. “Well, I mind you waiting, Emma. Shouldn’t you be in class?”

  She did have a point; at this rate, she was going to be super late to English. Luckily, the phone rang and Ms. Iyala was distracted—leaving Emma just enough time to eavesdrop.

  “That’s very interesting, Judith,” she heard Mr. Goddard say. “I had no idea.”

  Ooh! Maybe Ms. Bates had asked him to the dance! It sounded like he was about to say yes!

  “I’ll definitely consider it.”

  Consider what? Was he crazy? He had to think about it? Suddenly, she heard the knob on the door turning. She raced outside and hid behind Jax.

  “Emma, what are you doing?” Jax said, trying to step aside.

  “Just cover me, will ya?” she said, grabbing his soccer jacket out of his hands and tossing it over her head so Mr. Goddard wouldn’t see her as he walked by.

  When the coast was clear, she handed him back his bomber. “Not what you had hoped for?” he asked, noting the disappointment on her face.

  “No, not exactly,” Emma said. But she wasn’t about to give up yet. Maybe Ms. Bates and Mr. Goddard didn’t know they were perfect for each other. She’d have to give them a nudge.

  Emma searched the library bookshelves until she found a single leather-bound volume entitled Shakespeare’s Love Sonnets. She pulled the book down and cracked it open, searching for just the right poem to make her point perfectly. If Ms. Bates loves Shakespeare, then her suitor would have to speak the language.

  Finally, her eyes landed on a phrase: “So are you to my thoughts as food to life. . . .” She wasn’t quite sure what it meant—but it would be the perfect note to accompany a dozen Yummee Cream Donuts left for Ms. Bates on her desk. How could she resist both Shakespeare and donuts?

  All she had to do was get to school early, get Ms. Bates out of her office, and sneak in and place the treats where her principal was sure to see them.

  “You want us to do what?” Harriet put her hands over her ears as Emma explained her plan on the school steps. “No way, Emma. Marty and I are not getting involved in your matchmaking between Mr. Goddard and Ms. Bates!”

  “Do I have to remind you that you and Marty are going to the dance together—and that I had something to do with that?”

  “Um, you almost broke my nose,” Marty chimed in. “I’m not sure I owe you a favor for that.”

  Harriet patted him on the back. “You tell her, Marty. If Ms. Bates ever catches us breaking into her office, we’ll be in deep, deep trouble.”

  Emma knew she had to appeal to Harriet’s love of love. Her BFF was a real softie when it came to romance—she cried every time she watched the Troy and Gabriella karaoke scene in High School Musical. “But just picture Ms. Bates’s face when she sees this thoughtful, sweet gift on her desk! She’ll fall head over heels for Mr. Goddard.”

  Harriet hesitated; Emma sensed she was about to cave. “Just think of how happy they’ll be—just like you and Marty!” she urged her. “Come on, Harriet. How can you say no to love?”

  Harriet looked at Emma, then at Marty, then back at Emma. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  “Great! We’ll do it tomorrow morning. Marty, you tell Ms. Bates you smelled something burning in the school cafeteria and she has to come quick. Harriet, you keep watch while I sneak in and put the donuts on her desk.”

  “What happens when there’s no fire?” Marty asked. “Then what?”

  “Then you say, ‘Oops! Sorry, I must have been wrong,’ and she’ll go right back to her office and find a lovely token of affection
from her secret admirer.”

  “Wait, you’re not telling her it’s from Mr. Goddard?” Harriet asked. “How will she know then?”

  “An air of mystery will only add to the romance,” Emma explained. “She’ll figure it out.”

  “Or not,” Marty said, chuckling. “But at least she’ll have a dozen donuts.”

  They agreed they would get to school at seven sharp—just before Ms. Bates would be arriving and keying into her office.

  “As long as everyone sticks to their job, nothing can go wrong,” Emma told her BFF and her BFF’s BF. Then she thought to herself, I hope.

  Principal Bates was always extremely punctual. She marched into the office at 7:30 a.m. and out at 6 p.m. every single day. Emma, Harriet, and Marty watched and waited for her to walk through the doors of the school lobby, flip on the lights to the main office, and unlock her own inner office. Most of the teachers and staff wouldn’t be arriving till eight and that gave them plenty of time to sneak in and out.

  “You see? Right on schedule!” Emma said, pushing Marty toward the cafeteria. “Breakfast is served to early-arrival students at seven forty-five, so you go hang out in there for fifteen minutes.”

  “I wonder if they have French toast,” Marty said, scurrying off.

  “What do I do?” Harriet asked anxiously.

  “You hold the donuts and wait for me to go see if she’s in her office,” Emma instructed. “I’ll signal for you when Marty gets her to leave. And don’t squish the donuts! They need to be perfect.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Harriet joked and saluted her. “I will guard these donuts with my life.”

  Emma tiptoed down the hall and poked her head inside the main office. Ms. Bates was in there, all right. Her light was on, and when she pressed her ear to the door, she could make out the clicking of her fingers typing on her keyboard. She ducked in the coat closet, waiting for Marty to come in and do his part.

  At exactly 7:45, he walked into the office and knocked on the principal’s door.

  “Yes?” Ms. Bates asked, opening it.

  “Um, come quick, Principal Bates. There’s a funny smell in the cafeteria.”

  Not a funny smell, a burning smell! Couldn’t he keep that straight?

  “What kind of a smell, Martin?” Ms. Bates asked. “Can you be a little more specific? It might be the egg frittata.”

  Marty panicked and froze. He couldn’t think of what he was supposed to say. Thankfully, Ms. Bates was curious.

  “Okay,” she told him, “let’s go check out this funny smell.”

  They left the office and Emma jumped into action. “Harriet!” she shouted for her friend down the hallway. “Hurry up!”

  Harriet raced down the hall carrying the donuts—then tripped over her shoelace and landed with a splat right on them.

  “Oh, no!” Emma cried, prying them out from under her. She opened the box to reveal twelve flattened pastries, and the frosting and sprinkles were all stuck to the lid. “They look like pancakes, not donuts!”

  “I’m sorry!” Harriet apologized. “It was an accident.”

  Emma had no choice but to put the slightly mangled box on Ms. Bates’s desk along with the note. She was making sure it was right in front of her computer, when she heard footsteps coming.

  Oh, no! She’s coming back! Emma looked for a place to hide, but there was no time. With nowhere else to go, Emma ducked under the principal’s desk. She heard someone enter the room. Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. What if she got caught? She held her breath as two large feet wearing black sneakers came into view. Emma’s brain snapped to attention. Those didn’t look like Ms. Bates’s feet! Emma had never seen her principal come to school in sneakers. But, before Emma could peek out, the mystery person walked up, dropped something on the desk, and hurried out.

  Just as she was pondering, she heard a second set of footsteps coming—this time high-heeled ones! Now those sounded like Ms. Bates’s!

  The principal walked into her office and stopped in her tracks. She hovered over her desk, and Emma heard her open the box and start munching on a donut.

  What if she was trapped here all morning? Where was Harriet when she needed her? She heard another knock on the door and a familiar voice.

  “Principal Bates, there’s a sink overflowing in the boys’ bathroom. You should go see, quick!”

  “What is going on in this school today?” Ms. Bates said, frustrated. Her mouth was full of cinnamon cruller. “I haven’t been able to sit down at my desk once without being dragged right back out of here!” Emma heard her heels march across the floor.

  “Coast is clear,” said the voice. “You can come out, now.” It was Jax!

  He held a hand out to help her up from under the desk.

  “Thanks,” she said, slightly annoyed that it was him—and not Harriet—who had come to her rescue. “How did you know I was in here?”

  “I saw Harriet wipe out on her way down the hall and you run into the office. I figured you were stuck in here, scheming again.”

  “Is there really a problem with the boys’ bathroom?” she asked him.

  “Yeah, the sink is running. I turned it on.”

  Emma laughed—then realized he might get in trouble. “But what if Ms. Bates gets mad that there’s no emergency?”

  “Well, I had to take that risk to help out a friend, right?”

  A friend. So they were back to being friends.

  “You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it,” Emma said—and she meant it.

  “So you left Ms. Bates flowers and donuts?” Jax said, checking out the desk.

  “Flowers? I didn’t leave her flowers.” But there they were, a dozen red roses in a vase with a note attached. It read, That which we call a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet, and had no signature.

  “I don’t believe it!” Emma exclaimed. “Ms. Bates has an actual secret admirer!”

  Emma thought back on the first set of feet she saw when she was hiding in the office. They must have belonged to the secret admirer, because there were no flowers on the desk before he entered the room. Emma only knew a few things about Ms. Bates’s potential suitor: He had big feet—about a size 13 like her brother, Luc—and wore black sneakers with bright yellow laces.

  “It shouldn’t be hard to find the guy,” Marty told her. “You just have to check out all the shoes of all the male teachers at Austen.”

  So that’s exactly what she, Harriet, Marty, and Jax did—all day long, they peeked under desks and snooped inside closets. A few had black sneakers, but none with those distinctive neon-yellow laces.

  “It’s like looking for the princess who fits the glass slipper,” Harriet reflected. “Although it’s a prince who fits the running shoe.”

  “It’s more like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Marty said. “We have nothing to go on.”

  But Emma had her hunch. She ran up to the third-floor computer lab—Mr. Goddard was the obvious choice for her principal’s secret admirer. She came in the room and saw he was wearing shiny black oxfords similar to the ones her dad wore to work—not running shoes. So it couldn’t be him.

  “Can I help you, Emma?” he asked.

  “I was just wondering how things went with Ms. Bates after our conversation.”

  Mr. Goddard seemed surprised. “How did you know I spoke with Ms. Bates?”

  “Um, just a guess,” Emma said, trying to cover. “It wasn’t like I saw you go in her office or anything.”

  Mr. Goddard smiled ever so slightly. “Our talk went just fine, thank you,” was all he would share with her. Ugh, fixing up grown-ups was a lot harder than she thought! Why wouldn’t they cooperate?

  Later in the day, she noticed Ms. Bates walking down the hall to the library with a smooshed chocolate sprinkle donut in her hand. She couldn’t help but stare.

  “Is there a problem, Emma?” the principal asked, dabbing at her lips with a napkin.

  “Nope, no problem.”
Emma tried to smile and look innocent. The last thing she needed was for Ms. Bates to suspect her of the donut delivery!

  At the end of the day, Emma had practically given up on finding the mystery man who had left flowers—until she saw Mr. Goddard leaving school in a running jacket and sweatpants. There, on his feet, were the black sneakers with neon-yellow laces!

  “You!” Emma couldn’t help blurting out. “Those are your sneakers!”

  Mr. Goddard looked down at his feet. “Yes, I power walk to and from work. It’s how I squeeze exercise into my workday.”

  Emma didn’t know what else to say—she couldn’t tell him she knew he was Ms. Bates’s secret admirer. She couldn’t admit that she had been hiding under the desk and saw him.

  “Well, they’re very nice sneakers,” she said, thinking quickly. “I might get my dad ones just like it for his birthday.”

  Mr. Goddard nodded. “Well, they’re quite comfortable—and they’re on sale at Sports-R-Us.” He took off down the street, leaving Emma standing outside the school.

  “Do I have you to thank for my flowers and donuts?” Ms. Bates said, sneaking up behind her.

  “What? Huh? N-n-n-no,” Emma stuttered.

  “Really?” Ms. Bates pressed her. “You didn’t put the idea into . . . anyone’s head?”

  Emma felt her face flush. “Well, I might have mentioned something. . . .”

  “I thought so,” Ms. Bates said. “Have a good evening, Emma.”

  Emma had to ask—she needed to know! “So do you know who your secret admirer is?”

  “I do. He told me just before he left. He didn’t want to keep me in suspense.”

  And?! Emma searched her principal’s face for a clue: Did this mean she and Mr. Goddard were now a couple?

  “If you’re wondering, Mr. Goddard will help me chaperone the Sadie Hawkins Dance. But it’s not a date—it’s two colleagues going together, just keeping each other company.”

  “That’s great, Ms. Bates!” Emma said. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “You know what, Emma? I’m happy, too. It will be nice to have someone to talk to.”