Wednesday came. Prunella's condition remained unchanged, and she stayed home from school, sparing Alan the sight of her bitterness and tears. What to do about her situation became a topic of deliberation between her parents, Mr. Boughton, Principal Haney, and the school board. The mood in her sixth-grade classroom was so glum, she might as well have died.
Somewhat more removed from the tragedy was Mrs. Krantz' fifth-grade class, which was more occupied with the news that Arthur had declared himself a candidate for student body president. Binky, for one, had already taken steps to ensure his friend's victory.
"Hey, Arthur," he said, holding up a placard, "I made a campaign poster. What do you think?"
The aardvark boy curiously regarded the poster, on which was written, in crude letters, VOTE 4 ARTHUR R ELSE.
"Hmm...it's a good start, but I think you should add a picture. You know, like those Spongebrain Smartypants cartoons you used to draw. Something clever and catchy, yet simple."
"Gotcha," said Binky. Whipping out a pencil, he quickly doodled a vivid cartoon image of a big kid punching a smaller kid.
"Um...uh..." Arthur stammered when he beheld the boy's handiwork.
"Not simple enough?" Binky asked him.
As Mrs. Krantz began the roll call, the speaker crackled and Mr. Haney's voice was heard. "Attention all students. We have three candidates for the position of student body president. Arthur Read, fifth grade."
"Go, Arthur!" Francine cheered. "You rock!"
"Arthur! Arthur!" Buster chanted.
"Michaela Chanel, sixth grade," the principal continued.
"Nice knowing you, Arthur," said Muffy ominously.
"Matt Blomdahl, fifth grade."
"Who's that?" Binky wondered.
"The kid with the big neck," Fern informed him.
"A big thank you to the candidates," Mr. Haney concluded, "and to all the new student council members. Learning may now commence."
When the lesson was over, Binky approached Arthur with his latest concept. This drawing was one of a caped superhero with bulging muscles, an aardvark head, and round glasses. The caption read, BE A HERO--VOTE 4 ARTHUR.
"Don't tell me you spent the whole period coming up with that," said Arthur disappointedly.
"Yes," admitted Binky, shaking his head miserably.
Morning recess rolled along, and Matt Blomdahl was practicing his shots at the outdoor basketball court. He missed one throw after another, as coordination was made difficult by the fact that his head was a foot and a half higher than his shoulders.
While he struggled single-mindedly, the finely dressed aardvark girl Mickie Chanel approached him, wearing a devious smile. "Hi, Mickie," the giraffe boy greeted her.
Mickie didn't talk to him until her face was three inches away from his, and she got straight to the point. "I'll give you one hundred dollars if you withdraw from the presidential race."
Matt was floored. One hundred dollars? It was more money than he had ever carried with him. He could buy a truckload of comic books...a lifetime supply of bubble gum...
"You got a deal," he said with a toothy grin.
Meanwhile, Arthur was pushing D.W. on a swing when Binky hurried up to the pair, clutching another placard. "I've got it!" he trumpeted. "The kids won't be able to resist this one."
Arthur halted his sister, and looked at the new poster Binky had made. It featured a drawing of a comely young aardvark with round glasses, long hair, and a dress, along with the caption, DON'T BE A GIRLIE MAN--VOTE 4 ARTHUR.
D.W. exploded into laughter. Arthur groaned, certain he would bear the psychological scars for the rest of his life.
At that inopportune moment Mickie strolled up to the group, determined to bribe Arthur into non-participation. When she saw Binky's masterpiece, she was struck with a better idea.
"I love it," she said dotingly. Snatching the poster from the bulldog boy's hands, she placed it under her arm and skipped away, whistling a classical tune.
----
Arthur didn't recognize the true horror of what had happened until the next morning. As he arrived at Lakewood Elementary with his sister, they found campaign posters adorning every wall throughout the building. Each poster featured a brightly colored character who uncannily resembled Arthur, but wore a dress, a hair ribbon, and high-heeled shoes. Around the girlish image were written in a blocky font the words, DON'T BE A GIRLIE MAN--VOTE FOR ARTHUR READ, STUDENT BODY PRESIDENT.
D.W. shook her head disapprovingly. "Pink isn't your color," she remarked.
The pain was unimaginable. Arthur knew he had lost not only the election, but his good standing among his friends.
"Yo, girlie man!" Rattles taunted him as he shuffled toward Mrs. Krantz' room. Even Van Cooper could be seen laughing uncontrollably at the sight of the posters.
An indignant Beat confronted him as he entered the classroom. "Arthur Read," she scolded him, "you should be ashamed."
"I didn't..." Arthur tried to defend himself.
"In case you didn't know," Beat went on, "women have had the right to vote in your country for more than eighty years now. You just alienated the female half of the student body."
"It wasn't..."
"I can't help you when you undercut yourself like this, Arthur. I'm sorry."
"I didn't make the posters!" Arthur bellowed. "It was Mickie!"
The boy's outburst silenced Beat, who started to gape as the magnitude of Mickie's treachery dawned upon her.
"That devil," she muttered angrily. "This calls for a more aggressive strategy."
"Like what?" asked Arthur.
By lunchtime, Beat had made copies of a questionnaire and was circulating it among the students:
"My gender is: male/female"
"My reaction to the 'girlie man' posters is: indifference/hysterical laughter/more likely to vote for Arthur Read/less likely to vote for Arthur Read"
As the break neared its close, she returned to the classroom with a pile of completed surveys in her hand. The room was unusually crowded, as Principal Haney was present along with Zoe Belnap and her three daughters, Amy, Becky, and Cally.
Triplets, thought Beat. I won't ask them. They might skewer the results.
She perked up her super-sensitive rabbit ears as she sat down, hoping to catch a hint of the conversation.
"We want to go to this class, Mother," said Amy.
"It has the cutest boys," Becky added.
"Keep your voice down when you say that," Zoe cautioned her. "You don't want to swell their heads."
"If you want to attend this class, you're welcome to," said Mr. Haney. "But remember, you're here to learn, not to check out boys."
From the corner of her eye Beat noticed that Buster, in the desk next to hers, appeared to also be straining his ears to listen. She grinned knowingly at him.
Buster leaned toward her and spoke in a whisper. "It's like they've never seen a boy before," he remarked.
After Zoe and the principal had left, Mrs. Krantz invited the triplets to stand at the front. The three girls made a formation, all hiding their hands behind their backs and tilting their heads at the same angle, like a robotic chorus line.
"My name is Amy Belnap," said the girl with the A on her forehead.
"My name is Becky Belnap," said the next girl in line.
"My name is Cally Belnap," said the last girl.
"Thank you, girls," said Mrs. Krantz. "Please sit down."
The triplets promptly obeyed. Amy chose a desk next to Buster's, Becky seated herself by George, and Cally joined Zeke at the back of the room.
In Mr. Haney's office, the principal was holding an audience with Zoe. "I'm sure my daughters will be happy at your school," the cat woman said contendedly.
"We do our best to please," Haney responded.
Curious, Zoe turned around the framed portrait on the principal's desk. "Who is this?" she wondered.
"My wife," Haney answered. "My late wife."
"That's so sad," said Zoe with sympathy. "But you're not alone in your grief. My husband died when the girls were babies."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said the principal. "Tell me more."
----
The history lecture was full of words Prunella hadn't learned, and questions she had no idea how to answer. Even worse, she was a year older than the other students, which meant she should have attended a class of juniors.
Sue noticed her despondent expression as they left the classroom, and it seemed to touch her, albeit slightly. "I hope I didn't hurt your feelings. You see, most of us gave up on you a long time ago. It was no fun, hanging out with a girl who never remembered anything."
"I understand," said Prunella glumly.
Students were filling the hallways, and one in particular caught the rat girl's attention. A short, skinny moose boy with broad antlers and a stoic expression was walking in her direction, his hands buried in his pockets. Could it be...?
Before Prunella could work up the courage to greet him, Sue deftly stuck out her foot and caught the boy, tripping him. Most of the surrounding kids laughed derisively as he landed squarely on his nose.
"Careful, Nerdgren," Sue mocked him.
Bruised and humiliated, the moose boy started to pat the floor frantically. "My contact!" he wailed.
Prunella watched as one high-schooler after another walked past the unfortunate boy without helping. Leaving Sue's side, she bent down and joined the search for the missing lens. She needed only a second to locate the gleaming object.
"Prunella?" said the surprised moose boy as she handed the contact lens to him.
"Is that you, George?" asked the rat girl, rising from her knees.
"Yeah," the boy replied. "Still having memory problems, I take it."
"Not anymore," said Prunella cheerfully. "Augusta found a cure."
"That's nice," said George with a hint of incredulity. He started to walk away, but Prunella followed him.
"I can remember everything that happened during the last two days," she boasted.
"Uh-huh," George muttered.
"The kids still pick on you," Prunella observed. "I guess that hasn't changed."
"They're just jealous because I have something they don't have. A future."
She accompanied him as far as the door to the men's washroom. "I need to clean my contact," George told her. "It was nice to meet you again."
Once inside, the moose boy laid his soiled lens in front of the mirror, pulled off his backpack, zipped it open, and extracted an object that was dear to his heart--a wooden giraffe dummy. Turning it to face him, he started to manipulate its mouth with his fingers.
"Why do you put up with it?" the dummy asked impatiently. "Why don't you just kill them all?"
"No way, Wally," George retorted. "I've worked hard for my perfect academic record, and I'm not about to throw it away."
----
to be continued