The Game Master: Summer Schooled

The Voice on the Loudspeaker

Becca

Don’t end up in summer school at Hidden Vista Middle School. Why? Because it stinks. Becca Zamolo had learned that the hard way. One broken leg and an entire quarter of sixth grade missed got her a one-way ticket to humid classrooms and sticky seats and having to do homework instead of gymnastics camp.

Such terrible . . . awful . . . horrendous bad luck.

Instead of doing somersaults, Becca spent four mornings a week back in school, melting from heat and boredom. And today was the ultimate worst. They had to redo math class because Matt Darey, Becca’s pesky next-door neighbor, got them all in trouble yesterday. He thought he was so funny programming his robot to make jokes during independent work time and they were all being punished for laughing. The whole class was told to come back on the one off-day they had. Unlike regular school, summer school wasn’t supposed to meet on Fridays, but this week, because they’d been busted for not listening, Mrs. Gupta insisted that it would. You waste my time, I waste yours, Mrs. Gupta had said.

But even still, on this particular Friday, the classroom was weirdly almost empty. Only six of them were sitting and waiting for school to begin. Were the other kids skipping? Becca wished she was the type of kid who could do that. She was just too nervous to break the rules. Besides, she had to present for their big school project, and she was excited to show off her nana’s heirloom zoetrope. An animation reel from when animation wasn’t even invented. That was the only bright spot.

Everyone had to bring an object that showcased something mathematical and she bet that no one had anything like it. Becca set it down carefully on her desk, inspecting every part, making sure she’d loaded the animation reel into the barrel correctly. Just like she’d seen her nana do when she first showed Becca how it worked. It was the first stop motion animation, her nana had explained. When you look through the slits, you’ll see the images moving from the motion. Like a tiny cartoon.

Her nana had let her borrow it under the strictest of rules.

No fiddling with the parts.

No touching the reel strip.

No liquids or food of any sort near it.

No fooling around with it.

Bring it straight back home right after school.

Becca was determined to make sure she got her nana’s prized possession back safely.

She started to practice her speech: The zoetrope was invented by mathematicians in the eighteen hundreds and it—

Where’s Mrs. Gupta? Matt asked as he stood up and gazed around the room. He clutched that stupid robot, Ralphie, that had gotten them in trouble to begin with. He’d been talking nonstop about it all summer. It even had big round blue eyes and spiky golden hair, just like his. This morning, Matt had already been annoying everyone by teaching it to sing songs like Happy Birthday. On repeat.

Why would you bring that again? Becca said, pinching the bridge of her nose in anger.

"It’s for my project," he replied as the robot waved in her direction.

You’re going to get us in trouble. Again. Becca rolled her eyes.

The bell’s about to ring, Matt announced.

The bell . . . the bell . . . the bell, the robot repeated.

No one answered. Becca surveyed the room. Hiding behind a camera, Danny Watson was too busy videoing Miguel Córdova’s pet snake, Nacho, trying to get it to hiss on cue. Miguel hammed it up as the snake slithered its way up and around his arm, settling in on his shoulder. Miguel had spent all of summer school so far complaining that he was missing baseball camp. But everyone here was missing something.

I taught it Spanish, he said. "You have to say siseo."

How does a snake teach you about math, anyway? Becca asked.

Miguel flashed her with a gap-toothed grin. I brought these cool walkie-talkies that my mom got for me and my sister. People used to use these. They’re two-way radios. So, like, radio waves. He clipped both to his pants. But Nacho is extra credit. Symmetry and shapes. Come see her skin—unless you’re afraid.

I’m not afraid of anything. Becca bluffed a little.

Snakes carry disease, came Kylie Dao’s voice. Her long jet-black hair framed her face like a curtain. She leaned forward on her desk, busy drawing a map from one of her travels. She was the only kid Becca liked in summer school. Kylie usually flew off to visit family in Vietnam as soon as school let out. But summer school had ruined those plans, too.

Miguel brought Nacho around from desk to desk, basking in everyone’s squirms and squeals.

It’d better not eat my cheese. I need it for my project. Frankie DiMarco, rocking their ever-present skinny jeans despite the heat, had arranged five different snack containers on the desk: Gouda, Parmesan, mozzarella, cheddar, and was that blue cheese? Whatever it was, it stank.

Becca stared at the clock on the wall, watching the seconds tick by slower than a turtle. It was nearly eight now, and Mrs. Gupta was never late. Any minute now, she’d come rushing in, bells jingling on the beautiful silver sandals she always wore. Same basic outfit all summer. Those silver sandals and a long flowy skirt. She also rocked a pair of perfectly round glasses that accented her perfectly round face. Becca thought she looked like a tawny owl. She was a good teacher, though. Summer school was a tough assignment for anyone, and Mrs. Gupta did her best to make it not horrible. But where was she?

The bell rang, a warning, and Becca pulled out her notebook, ready to write down any announcements before math started.

Matt peered out of the classroom and into the hallway, then turned back around. His pale cheeks reddened. "Where is everyone?"

Becca looked up. Matt was right. Their classroom was still super empty. Kids should’ve flooded in by now. Every seat was usually taken. But it was just the six of them.

Matt got up.

You’re going to get a demerit for being out of your seat, Becca warned.

He ignored her, peeking his head out of the classroom. No one is in the hall, Matt reported, frowning. "No one’s anywhere."

So what? Frankie replied while admiring their tower of snacks, scrawling proportions and ingredients into their recipe notebook. "Gives me more time to perfect this Leaning Tower of Cheese-a. Get it? Mrs. Gupta’s gonna love it. A-plus for me. She can whip out her protractor. So many angles. See? SEE? Also, maybe it’ll count as a recipe for when I enter the Kids’ Cook-off across America. Could be in my back pocket for one of their challenges. Frankie chuckled to themself, then nibbled on the block of cheddar from their stack. I could make a tower as high as the ceiling or something."

The late bell rang, echoing through the empty halls, signaling the start of class. Mrs. Gupta would keep them as punishment since no other students were here.

Becca was worried now. Mrs. Gupta should have been up at the front of the room, going through announcements for next week. Usually, there weren’t that many. Noon dismissal reminder. Homework folders. Parent info fliers. The daily letter from Principal Collins.

And today there shouldn’t really be any since they weren’t supposed to be here.

Matt paced the room, then took his seat.

They all sat at their desks.

Becca stared at the clock.

8:00 a.m.

8:01 a.m.

8:02 a.m.

Mrs. Gupta was never late. She would make you stay after dismissal for every minute of hers that you wasted.

8:03 a.m.

If no one comes after five minutes, we can leave, Matt proclaimed. He’d barely been in his seat a minute, and already he was itching to move again.

How do you know that? Becca challenged.

It’s a rule. Matt walked to the front of the classroom.

Says who? Kylie said, finally looking up from her map.

My older brother, Matt said, nosing around Mrs. Gupta’s desk.

Becca stood and walked toward him. He was always causing trouble. What are you doing?

Miguel let his snake coil around his arm while Danny ducked and weaved between the classroom desks, capturing every moment on video. What should we do if no one comes? How does that make you feel? Danny asked. Tell the camera.

Matt looked under Mrs. Gupta’s desk and then in her closet.

She probably isn’t hiding in there, Becca said.

Her briefcase isn’t here. Also, her running shoes. She always puts on those ugly sneakers after school. Matt scratched his head, ruffling his dirty-blond hair.

Danny went into the hallway, filming the empty halls like he was collecting evidence. No one is in the other classrooms. I’ll use my camera’s motion sensor to see if it picks up on anything.

They all followed him and looked around. Becca darted to the other sixth-grade summer school homeroom, overseen by