Read Online Brass Monkeys by Terry Caszatt - Free Book Online Page A

looked away. I couldn’t stand the tension. I heard Mrs. Mingley striding toward Harriet. This was followed by the awful crackle of paper as the page was snatched from Harriet’s hand.
    “That’s enough from you, Miss Grove!” Mingley ground out the words as she wadded up the paper. “Such a stubborn girl! Is this the correct vision, class?”
    “No!” shouted almost everyone in the room. Even I formed the word.
    “No, it is not,” Mingley continued. “And this brings me to one of the saddest moments of my career. We are poised here, on the edge of an abyss. The wrong decision can plunge us into one of life’s tragic mistakes. What are we to do, students?” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you trust me to know what’s right?”
    “Yes!” cried the class.
    “Very well,” said Mrs. Mingley. “We must return to our true vision as quickly as we can. We must stamp out the effect of this last horrible poem, and the only way to do that is to hear words from a better, truer poem.” She paused dramatically. “Who in here has a poem that will carry us back to where we belong? If you do, you will not only save this class, but also Miss Grove who may fail the entire marking period!”
    The class gasped, and I saw Harriet falter under the blow and start to sit down.
    “No, stand up, Grove!” cried Mingley. “I want you to face the seriousness of this.” Her eyes swept over the class. “Unless there’s a young scholar in here willing to help, you are in very grave trouble.”
    The room was deadly quiet. Harriet glanced up then and gave me a small pleading look. And that’s when I did the most foolish thing in my life. I suddenly raised my hand.
    When I looked back on it later, I realized how easily I had fallen into the trap. Part of my weakness was my desire to be the big hero and save Harriet, but I had an even greater crack in my armor, which Ming the Merciless must have sensed.
    “Well, look at this,” said Mrs. Mingley. “What have we here? Our new student wishes to step in and rescue Harriet? Stand up, Eugene. What do you have?”
    “It’s a po-em,” I stammered, “called ‘Toad Man.’ Uh, Mr. Heilbart, my English teacher from my old school, used to write it on the board … and we had to memorize it. I think he actually wrote the poem.”
    Mingley’s bulging eyes studied me intently. “Well, this should be interesting. And it had better be good, Mr. Wise.”
    I suddenly sensed my idea might be a huge mistake, but I was in too deep now.
    I caught a glimpse of Alvin and Weeser watching me in awe. But Harriet’s face made the greatest impression: her eyes glowed with such hope. She thought I was riding to the rescue. And I thought I was, too.
    I began to recite in a stammering voice old Heilbart’s poem:
    I am the Toad Man at the end of days
The moon is dead, the sun is dying;
I have them in my bag
.
The toad days are upon us, endless and dark …
    As I spoke, Harriet’s hopeful look began to die. Weeser and Alvin looked baffled, then shocked. I knew they had expected me to go bravely against the “dark and bleak” vision. Instead, I was convinced the only way to save Harriet was to read a poem that Mrs. Mingley would like.
    Harriet suddenly put a hand over her eyes and sat down, and I could tell she was crying. I knew right then that I had made one of the great blunders of my life. Mrs. Mingley didn’t seem to care that Harriet had disobeyed her by sitting down; she was beaming happily at me as I mumbled on:
    Yesterday is dust, tomorrow is gone;
Welcome to the night
.
    For a moment there was dead silence in the room. Mrs. Mingley was nodding and smiling like crazy at me. Finally she said, “Magnificent, Mr. Wise! Nothing could sum up better what I have been trying to say in here. You have not only saved Miss Grove and her grade, but you have saved us. So let’s show Eugene how much we appreciate his effort!”
    She began applauding and the class, except for Harriet, Weeser, and Alvin, began