NUMB

This story is inspired by Dana’s troubles in the eleventh chapter of Louis Sachar’s Sideways Stories from Wayside School. Before we dive into the fan‑fiction, let’s take a look at Chapter 11, “Dana.”

CHAPTER 11. DANA — SUMMARY

One day, Mrs. Jewls is teaching arithmetic, but Dana complains that she can’t concentrate because of her mosquito bites. Mrs. Jewls insists on continuing the lesson, claiming that arithmetic is the best cure for an itch. She keeps giving the students arithmetic problems to solve, and when Dana finally adds up all her mosquito bites, she’s surprised to discover that they’ve magically stopped itching.

Louis was the first teacher to arrive at school. He strolled around the building, checking that no stray balls or hula-hoops had been left on the field or forgotten in the bushes. The morning sun warmed his face, and the birds in the treetops chirped as if greeting him personally.

Just as he headed toward the entrance, a sharp sting jabbed his elbow. He slapped his arm and found a mosquito flattened in a tiny smear of blood.

“Small but painful,” Louis muttered. “I hate vampires.”

He cleaned the spot carefully. He knew better than to scratch. Scratching only made things worse.

A sudden uproar rose from the front of the school. A long line of students spilled out of the bus, racing up the stairs toward their classrooms. Long after the last one had disappeared inside, Dana appeared, panting and crawling forward at the speed of a tired snail. Her enormous backpack made her look even smaller.

“Did you pack your whole room in there?” Louis joked.

Dana shook her head silently and trudged up the steps like an underwater crab moving in slow motion.

At recess, the students burst out of the building again, filling the playground with shouts and wild energy. Louis’s multicolored balls were tossed, bounced, and kicked until every one of them turned the same dusty brown. When the bell rang, the children vanished back inside, leaving Louis alone with the mess, and wondering how he could gather the balls without ruining his brand-new training suit.

While hauling an armful of basketballs toward the underground bathroom, he nearly bumped into Dana, who was climbing the stairs from the basement.

“Dana!” Louis exclaimed. “What are you doing down here?”

Dana shrugged. “Emergency,” she said with a little laugh. “You know. I had to go.”

Then she darted up the stairs toward Mrs. Jewls’s classroom.

Louis shook his head, smiling.

At lunchtime, he spotted Dana again, this time sitting alone at a narrow table in the far corner of the cafeteria, right next to the big refrigerator. She looked small and miserable, hunched over her tray and nibbling at a tiny sandwich.

Louis sat beside her. “What are you doing here?”

Dana frowned. “What do you mean? I’m having lunch.”

“Far from everyone else, in the corner of the room?” he asked. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on,” she muttered. “This is my favorite table.”

Louis studied her. She was leaning against the refrigerator door, one leg pressed firmly against the cold metal.

“Something’s going on,” he said. “And I’m pretty sure it has to do with this fridge.”

“What fridge?” Dana asked, feigning surprise.

“The fridge you’re glued to,” Louis laughed. “You look like you’re trying to take all the cold out of it. Are you hot or something?”

Dana sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll tell you.”

She stuffed the last bit of sandwich into her mouth, drained her Capri Sun, and then held out her arms.

“Mosquito bites,” she whispered.

Louis nodded. “I hate mosquitoes too.”

“I mean I’m covered in mosquito bites,” she moaned. “They itch all the time.”

“Don’t scratch them,” Louis warned. “Scratching makes them worse.”

“Too late!” Dana cried. “My whole body itches so much I could scream.”

“Did you try calamine lotion?” Louis asked. “It helps with itching.”

“I know,” Dana said. “But I can’t use it at school, can I?”

“No, I guess not,” Louis admitted. “So, what are you going to do?”

Dana leaned closer. “The best way to fight an itch is to make your skin feel nothing. When does your body feel numb?”

“In winter, when it’s cold?” Louis guessed.

“Exactly!” Dana said. She tapped the refrigerator. “That’s why I’m sitting here. In class, I press my legs against the metal frame of my desk.”

Louis blinked. “Wait. I think I know what you were doing at recess.”

Dana grinned. “I was charging up more numbness. There’s a big pipe down there with super-cold water. If I lean on it for a minute, my mosquito bites go numb for almost an hour.”

“And your backpack?” Louis asked. “You looked like the world’s largest snail this morning.”

Dana pointed at her empty juice pouch. “My backpack is full of half-frozen Capri Sun bags. I need them whenever I feel like I’m about to scratch again.”

The bell rang, and the students hurried back to class, including Dana.

Louis looked at the mosquito bite on his arm and pressed his elbow against the fridge door. He yelped and jumped back.

“Too cold for me,” he groaned.

PIG TAILS

This story explores Paul’s urge to pull Leslie’s pigtails in the tenth chapter of Louis Sachar’s Sideways Stories from Wayside School. Before we dive into the fan‑fiction, let’s take a look at Chapter 10, “Paul.”

CHAPTER 10. PAUL — SUMMARY

Sitting at the back of the classroom, Paul can’t focus on Mrs. Jewls’s lesson because Leslie’s pigtails keep dangling right in front of him. He tries to resist the temptation to pull one, but he fails. First he pulls Leslie’s right pigtail, and Mrs. Jewls writes his name on the blackboard. Then he pulls the left one, and she adds a checkmark. At this point, Paul thinks he can get away with pulling Leslie’s pigtails twice every day. However, Leslie suddenly screams again, even though he hasn’t touched her a third time. Mrs. Jewls circles his name and sends him home early on the kindergarten bus.

On Sunday, Peter woke Paul up at dawn. Paul squinted at the clock on his bedroom wall.

“But it’s Sunday,” he groaned. “Why are we waking up at seven?”

“Do you want to go to Cousin Jim’s birthday party or not?” his older brother asked.

Paul was in no mood for a two hour ride to the middle of the countryside, but he had no choice.

“Man, I forgot all about it,” he mumbled. “It feels like his last birthday was only two months ago.”

He tried to sleep in the car, but Peter played a very loud game of I Spy with their parents. They burst into laughter every time they spotted a cattle crossing sign, a scarecrow, or even a red barn.

“Could you please play the Quiet Game?” Paul begged. “I’m trying to catch up on my sleep.”

Peter pulled off Paul’s cap and ruffled his hair. “The Quiet Game is only for little brothers,” he chuckled.

When they arrived at Uncle Red’s farm, Paul was both sleepy and starving. Peter and his parents had eaten breakfast in the car, but he had been too tired to chew.

“Happy birthday to your son, Redford,” Paul’s mom said. “Where’s Jim?”

“Jim and his sister are feeding the animals out back,” Uncle Red replied. “Do you kids want to see the horses?”

“Sure!” Peter exclaimed, sprinting toward the stables.

Paul sighed and followed, but not all the way. Instead, he slipped into a quiet shed and collapsed onto a hay bale behind the door.

He had just closed his eyes when someone shoved him off the bale.

“Wake up, City Boy!” a voice boomed. “You can sleep when you go back to that boring school of yours.”

It was Bouncing Betty, Cousin Jim’s sister. Everyone called her that because she hopped everywhere she went and had enough energy to power an entire farm.

Paul stood up and pushed her back. Then he brushed straw off his T shirt. “Nobody sleeps at my school,” he muttered.

Betty snorted. “That’s not what I heard.”

Cousin Jim and Betty were homeschooled, and she never missed a chance to tease Paul about it.

“Oh, here you are!” Cousin Jim shouted as he burst into the shed with Peter behind him. “We’ve been looking everywhere.”

“I’ve been here for less than thirty seconds,” Paul protested.

“No excuses,” Jim snapped. “Last year you pretended to be sick. This year you’re playing Barnyard Blitz with us or else.”

“Or else what?” Paul blurted. “Can’t we have cake first and play games after?”

Jim wagged his finger. “You’re not fooling me again, Buster. It’s Team Brother vs. Team Farm. Winners get double cake. Losers get regular cake. And if you don’t play, you get zero cake.”

Paul’s stomach growled louder than an angry pig. He followed Jim outside and nearly bumped into Uncle Red, who was holding a book so thick it could stop a tractor.

“Not so fast, partner,” Uncle Red chuckled. “Before a single boot hits the dirt, we follow the rules in The Official Barnyard Blitz Rule Book.”

Paul’s eyes widened. “How many rules are there?”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Uncle Red said. “Right now, we focus on Rule One: The Farmer’s Handshake.”

The children shook hands. Betty squeezed Paul’s so hard his eyes watered.

The first challenge was the Chicken Coop Scramble. They were supposed to reach into a giant nest, which was a kiddie pool filled with straw. There, they had to find three wooden eggs and carry them in a tiny plastic bucket without dropping any.

“Don’t forget the pig tails,” Peter said, pushing Paul toward the pool. “I’ll handle the next challenge because I don’t want you ruining our chances.”

Paul dove into the straw and found the eggs faster than Jim. But as he sprinted toward the finish line, his shaking hand betrayed him and one egg hit the dirt.

Uncle Red blew his whistle. “Egg Rule! Return to the nest and find another egg. But first, give me five chicken flaps.”

“I’m not doing that,” Paul snapped. “I want to make an official complaint. My egg dropped because Betty crushed my fingers before the race. That’s cheating.”

Uncle Red pointed to a jar filled with corn kernels perched on the fence post. “That’s the Complaint Jar. You must count one hundred kernels before I listen to anything.”

“One hundred kernels?” Paul gasped. “That’ll take all day!”

“And that’s exactly the point,” Uncle Red said. “By the time you reach ninety nine, you’ll forget why you were grumpy.”

Paul groaned, returned to the nest, and finished the task.

“The tails!” Peter shouted.

“What tails?” Paul panted.

Peter pointed to the Pig Pen, where three curly pink rubber bands dangled from a post.

“You must pull the tails to signal the end of the challenge.”

“Why?”

“Because pig tails are meant to be pulled!” Jim roared, laughing so hard he nearly fell over.

The rest of the race was a blur. Peter tackled the Muddy Marsh like a pro athlete. Paul hauled sandbag “potatoes” in the Vegetable Patch. They hurdled hay bales, milked a wooden cow, and pulled more pig tails than they could count.

By the final challenge, Paul collapsed on the ground.

“I don’t care if it’s double or regular,” he groaned. “Just bring the cake.”

In the end, Uncle Red gave everyone as much cake as they wanted.

“If you’d paid attention to the rules, you would’ve won,” he told Paul. “Next time, remember: don’t forget to pull the pig tails.”

“But why?” Jim and Betty mimicked Paul.

“Because pig tails are meant to be pulled!” Uncle Red laughed.

On Monday morning, the first thing Paul noticed at school was Leslie’s long pigtails dangling right in front of him.

“Pigtails are meant to be pulled,” Paul whispered to himself. 

DISNEY PARK

This story is inspired by Sharie’s constant sleepiness in the fourth of Louis Sachar’s Sideways Stories from Wayside School. Before we dive into the fan‑fiction, let’s take a look at Chapter 4, “Sharie.”

CHAPTER 4. SHARIE — SUMMARY

Sharie sleeps through most of Mrs. Jewls’s lessons. Paradoxically, the teacher considers her the best student in the class. One hot afternoon, with all the windows open, Sharie dozes off and falls right out the window. Fortunately, Louis, the yard teacher, sees her just in time and manages to catch her in his arms before she hits the ground.

People didn’t know, but Sharie had a serious problem: she was sick. She suffered from narcolepsy.

Narcolepsy is a disease that makes you fall asleep in the middle of the day. One moment you are wide awake, answering questions in class, and the next moment you are sleeping like a log, dreaming of sheep hopping over fences.

Falling asleep is caused by strong feelings and emotions. Sharie usually fell asleep when she was too bored or very excited.

Last summer, Sharie went to spend her vacation with her grandparents. They had no idea about her problem. Whenever she fell asleep in the middle of the day, they thought she was tired and tucked her into bed for “a little extra rest.”

Sharie loved staying with them. They let her do almost anything she wanted. She woke up late, played games on her phone all day, and walked to the corner store by herself. She especially loved buying milk and cereal without anyone’s help.

One afternoon, she noticed a huge poster in the store window: 

DISNEY PARK

CHEAP TICKETS FOR STUDENTS!

Sharie had always dreamed of going to Disney Park and riding the biggest roller coaster. And the park wasn’t far from her grandparents’ town.

“Grandpa, can I go to Disney Park?” she asked. “They’re offering cheap tickets to students!” 

Her grandfather shook his head. “We’re too old for that kind of trip,” he answered. “We can’t go with you.”

“It’s okay,” Grandpa,” Sharie said. “I can find the way all by myself.”

“But you’re just a child,” her grandmother protested. “You can’t go alone.”

“Yes, I can,” Sharie insisted. “I go shopping by myself every day. And I’m very good at bargains!”

“Going to Disney Park is not the same as going to the corner store,” her grandfather said. “We need to know where you are at all times.”

Sharie held up her phone. “You can track me with this,” she said. “And I’ll call you all the time.”

The next morning, Sharie woke up early and hurried to the railway station. The train was already waiting.

“Where do I buy a ticket?” she asked the station manager.

“Hop on quick!” the man said. “You can buy one from the ticket collector.”

Sharie climbed aboard and sat by the window. The train rolled past blue skies and endless fields. Soon she got bored and fell asleep.

That was when the ticket collector arrived. He tried to wake her, but she snored louder with every nudge. Eventually, he gave up and moved on.

When the train finally reached Disney Park, Sharie woke up. “Wow,” she laughed. “The ticket collector never checked my ticket. Now I have more money for rides!”

Disney Park looked more magical than a fairy tale castle. But while Sharie was standing in line to buy her ticket, she became so excited that she fell asleep and fell on the ground.

People rushed to help, thinking she was sick. Two nurses carried her to the small clinic inside the park. They waved bottles with special flavors under her nose until she woke up.

“Where are your parents?” the park manager asked.

Sharie held up her phone. “My grandparents are following me through this,” she said.

“Well, we’re glad you’re feeling better,” the manager said. “We would like to offer you a free ride on our biggest roller coaster.”

Sharie was very happy. She didn’t have to pay for the park ticket or the ride. After she rode the roller coaster, she hurried back to the train station.

On the way home, she thought about her amazing adventure. But while she was waiting for the ticket collector, two strange men entered the train car, wearing masks and holding guns.

“Give us all your money!” they shouted.

Sharie was so scared that she fell asleep.

“What’s wrong with her?” one robber whispered. “Is she dead?”

“I don’t know,” the other muttered. He pulled the emergency cord, and both men jumped off the train.

Once again, no one checked Sharie’s ticket. When she arrived home, she still had all her money.

“Did you have a good time?” her grandmother asked.

“How come you didn’t spend a dime?” her grandfather added.

Sharie shrugged. “I told you, grandpa! I’m very good at bargains!"

INVISIBLE

This story is inspired by the ice‑cream flavors Mrs. Jewls creates in the ninth chapter of Louis Sachar’s Sideways Stories from Wayside School. Before we dive into the fan‑fiction, let’s take a quick look at what Chapter 9, “Maurecia,” is all about.

CHAPTER 9. MAURECIA — SUMMARY

At first, Maurecia is wild about ice cream and brings a cone to school every day. But after a while, she grows tired of her favorite flavor. Even though she tries many others, she eventually loses interest in ice cream altogether. To solve this problem, Mrs. Jewls invents a brand‑new flavor: Maurecia‑flavored ice cream. Unfortunately, Maurecia can’t taste her own flavor, so Mrs. Jewls creates a unique flavor for every student in the class. Maurecia loves them all, but Todd‑flavored ice cream becomes her favorite.

Louis was excited. He had heard about Mrs. Jewls’s ice cream experiment, and he couldn’t wait to taste a Louis flavored cone.

“I’m sorry, Louis,” Mrs. Jewls said. “I can’t continue this. I need to focus on what I do best: teaching. I’m not a professional chef.”

Louis’s face drooped like a melting scoop. He couldn’t believe he was going to miss such a great opportunity.

“But Mrs. Jewls,” he sighed, “the children loved your ice cream. Why don’t you write down the recipe, and we’ll ask Miss Mush to create new flavors in her kitchen? The whole school will be thrilled.”

“I don’t know about this,” Mrs. Jewls muttered. “My recipe was just a personal experiment. Using it in the cafeteria might be dangerous.”

“Nonsense!” Louis exclaimed. “Miss Mush is the best chef I’ve ever met. She’ll make the best ice cream in the world.”

Louis was right. As soon as Miss Mush heard about the project, she got straight to work. She used Mrs. Jewls’s recipe, but she added her own creativity.

By Monday, Miss Mush was ready.

The first kid to enter the cafeteria was Calvin. He had forgotten his lunch at home. Again.

He spotted a giant sign: ICE CREAM MAGIC. But the display underneath was filled with empty bowls.

“Where’s the ice cream?” Calvin asked.

Miss Mush leaned in. “Right there,” she whispered, pointing at the emptiness. “It’s invisible.”

Calvin frowned. “I’m not very hungry today,” he said, backing away.

“Wait,” Miss Mush said.

She switched off the lights. Suddenly the empty bowls glowed in the dark: pink, silver, green, and colors no one had invented names for yet.

“What’s your favorite flavor?” she asked.

“Wow, invisible ice cream,” Calvin muttered. “Do you have anything with peanuts?” He loved peanuts.

Nobody else in Mrs. Jewls’s class wanted to try Miss Mush’s ICE CREAM MAGIC. Nobody except Kathy and Maurecia. Kathy chose lemon, of course. She always had a sour attitude. Maurecia wanted Todd flavored ice cream. Surprisingly, Miss Mush had made that flavor too.

The next morning, Calvin forgot his lunch again. At lunchtime, Todd waved him over.

“Why are you so forgetful these days?” Todd laughed. He opened his lunch bag. “Take anything you want. I packed too much.”

“Thanks,” Calvin said, picking up a banana. He peeled it carefully and took a bite.

Todd stared. Then he hurried over to Louis.

“Did you see that?” Todd whispered. “Calvin picked a banana. It was right next to a bag of peanuts.”

“So?” Louis said.

“Calvin is crazy about peanuts!” Todd cried. “Something’s wrong with his memory.”

Across the room, Kathy approached Miss Mush for a glass of milk.

“There’s no milk today,” Miss Mush said. “But we have fresh lemonade.”

Kathy scowled. “Lemonade? What’s that?”

Miss Mush blinked. “You don’t know what lemonade is? It’s juice made from lemons.”

Kathy threw up her hands. “What are lemons?!”

The cafeteria gasped. Lemons were Kathy’s favorite fruit.

Just then, Maurecia walked in.

“Maurecia,” Todd warned, “don’t eat Miss Mush’s ice cream again. There’s something weird about it.”

“Stand aside, little tyke, or you’ll be sorry,” Maurecia snapped. She could beat any boy in Mrs. Jewls’s class.

“Little tyke?” Louis laughed. “This is Todd, Maurecia!”

“Who’s Todd?” she asked.

Louis and Todd exchanged a worried look. The yard teacher sighed.

“Miss Mush,” he said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to stop serving ICE CREAM MAGIC. Starting now.”

Miss Mush was shocked. “Why?”

Louis squinted at the ceiling. “I can’t remember why. But it’s important. Nobody should eat that ice cream anymore.”

Miss Mush removed every glowing bowl and tossed them in the dumpster. Later that day Mrs. Jewls asked her who else had eaten ICE CREAM MAGIC, but Miss Mush couldn’t remember.

And so, strange things continued to happen at Wayside School. But maybe that was just because everyone’s memory was working in new and unusual ways now.

JUST A GAME

This story is inspired by Myron’s experience as class president in Chapter 8 of Sideways Stories from Wayside School. Before we dive into the fan‑fiction, let’s take a brief look at what the eighth chapter is about.

CHAPTER 8. MYRON — SUMMARY

Myron becomes class president and is disappointed to learn that his only responsibility is turning the lights on in the morning and off at the end of the school day. That afternoon, after classes, Myron saves Dana’s dog by rushing the injured puppy to the vet after it’s hit by a car. The next morning, he visits the dog before school, which makes him a little late. As soon as he arrives, Mrs. Jewls informs him that he will be replaced by Stephen for failing to turn on the lights that morning.

At lunch, Myron walked to the far corner of the playground and sat on a bench in the shade of a tall tree. He had just bitten into his sandwich when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Do you mind if we join you?” a voice called.

Myron turned and saw Arlo and Silas. He knew them well: excellent basketball players, great guys, and always laughing about something.

“Sure,” Myron said, scooting over to make room.

They unwrapped their sandwiches. Arlo gulped noisily and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “We know what happened,” he said.

Myron blinked. “What do you mean?”

Silas pointed toward the school building with his giant sandwich. “We know Mrs. Jewls replaced you with Stephen,” he said, shaking his head. “Totally unfair.”

“But how did you hear that?” Myron asked.

Arlo grinned. “News travels fast at Wayside School. Faster than the elevator, even.”

They both laughed.

“But it’s actually good news,” Arlo continued. “Because we’re looking for someone like you. We think you’d make a great class president.”

Myron started coughing and nearly choked on his sandwich.

Silas immediately pulled a bottle of water from his pocket (Myron didn’t even want to know how it fit in there) and handed it to him. “Here.”

After a few gulps, Myron croaked, “Say that again?”

“We’d like you to be our class president,” Arlo repeated. “We need someone mindful and dedicated. Someone like you.”

“But I’m not in your class!” Myron exclaimed. “I’m in Mrs. Jewls’s class on the thirtieth floor.”

Silas patted him on the back. “We don’t need a classroom president. We need a recess president. Someone who can help us organize games so we don’t waste half of recess finding balls or arguing about turns.”

Myron frowned. “Is that what a class president is supposed to do?”

“For us, yes,” Arlo said. “So, what do you say? Do you want to give it a try?”

Myron’s eyebrows shot up. “Right now?”

“Sure,” Silas said, pointing across the field. “Everyone’s waiting.”

Myron squinted. A group of kids from Mr. King’s class were jumping and waving at him.

“Okay,” he muttered, standing. “I guess I can try.”

It turned out to be the best recess ever. Mr. King’s class had only managed to secure two balls, but Myron organized basketball teams, kickball teams, and a rotation for tetherball, hopscotch, and tag. By the end of recess, everyone had played at least two games and had the time of their lives.

Myron couldn’t wait for the next recess.

“I told you you’re the best class president in the history of Wayside School,” Arlo said, high fiving him.

“You didn’t actually say that,” Myron laughed. “But thanks. And thank you for the opportunity.”

“We thank you,” Silas said, patting him on the back. “See you in an hour.”

The next class was a blur. Myron checked the clock every thirty seconds. He couldn’t even remember what Mrs. Jewls was teaching.

When the bell rang, he dashed out the door and down the stairs. Outside, he scanned the playground for Mr. King’s students.

“Over here, Myron!” someone called.

It was Todd, holding a red ball Louis had just given him.

“Oh, hi Todd,” Myron said. “Do you need extra players?”

Todd shook his head. “We’ve got enough. But you can cheer for us until someone gets tired.”

Myron hesitated. “Sure. But I need to check something first.”

He ran after Louis, who was carrying jump ropes and hula hoops back to the sports gear room.

“Louis! Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Louis said. “Hold these first.”

He dumped the ropes and hoops into Myron’s arms, then picked up the yellow ball and a stack of frisbees.

“Walk with me,” Louis said. “Tell me everything.”

Myron explained it all, from Mrs. Jewls appointing him class president, to being replaced, to organizing recess for Mr. King’s class.

They dropped the equipment onto the racks and stepped outside again. Louis watched the children running and laughing across the yard.

“I like Arlo and Silas,” he said. “And I’m sure their class had a wonderful time with you.”

“Yes, but now Todd expects me to spend time with his team,” Myron said. “If I keep helping Mr. King’s class, I feel like I’m betraying my own classmates.”

Louis chuckled. “But you’re not really their class president, are you?”

“What do you mean? You saw me organizing everything, didn’t you?”

“This is the playground, Myron,” Louis said, spreading his arms wide. “If you lead Mr. King’s students only at recess, you’re just pretending to be their class president.”

Myron’s face lit up. “So, I’m not betraying anyone because it’s just a game.”

“Exactly.”

“Smart,” Myron said. “But why does it feel like you just proved that white is black?”

Louis smiled. “Because you care, Myron. That’s why. Now go do what feels right.”

Myron ran toward Arlo and Silas, who were waiting for him on the field. The students in Mr. King’s class cheered as he approached.

MISS ZARVES

This story explores the possibility that Calvin might meet Miss Zarves, who supposedly teaches the class on the nineteenth story. Before we dive into the fan‑fiction, let’s take a look at what Chapter 7 in Sideways Stories from Wayside School is all about.

CHAPTER 7. CALVIN — SUMMARY

Mrs. Jewls asks Calvin to deliver a note to Miss Zarves, who teaches the class on the nineteenth story. The strange thing is that the nineteenth story doesn’t exist. The builder accidentally skipped that floor, which means Miss Zarves has no classroom. Calvin wanders around Wayside School searching for a nonexistent teacher, only to return to the thirtieth story and discover that Mrs. Jewls never intended to meet Miss Zarves in the first place.

When school finally ended that day, Calvin felt worn out. He had spent hours looking for Miss Zarves, even though he knew she didn’t exist. His legs were tired, his head was tired, and even his tired was tired.

He stood in line for the school bus with the other kids. They were laughing and telling jokes, but Calvin didn’t feel like laughing. He just wanted to go home and rest his fried up brain.

The bus always surprised everyone because it came from behind the building. You couldn’t see it until it was already there. There was a traffic mirror across the street that showed the road around the corner, but everything in it looked a little strange, like the world was pretending to be itself.

Calvin peeked at the mirror and saw a tiny bus crawling along the road. But before he could blink, the real bus rolled up right in front of him. The doors whooshed open.

Calvin climbed on first, plopped into the seat behind the driver, and fell asleep right away. His mother always told him not to nap on the school bus, but today he felt like a wrung out sponge.

When Calvin got home, his mother noticed something was off. Usually, he was sharp and quick. On bad days he was cranky. But today he was slow and foggy, like a cloud that forgot how to float.

“Are you okay, Calvin?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. He didn’t like it when adults worried about him. He dropped his backpack in the hallway. “I think I’ll go to bed early.”

But going to bed early didn’t help. Calvin tossed, turned, flopped, rolled, and twisted. He woke up again and again. He barely slept at all.

Finally, just before morning, he drifted into a peaceful dream.

In the dream, he met Miss Zarves. She was very pretty and very nice, maybe even nicer than Mrs. Jewls, which was impossible, because Mrs. Jewls was the nicest teacher in the world.

Miss Zarves taught the class on the nineteenth story. And in Calvin’s dream, Wayside School was normal. The eighteenth story came first, then the nineteenth, then the twentieth. Everything was neat and modern. There were big elevators everywhere, so nobody had to climb stairs to go to recess.

Calvin stood inside one of the elevators while Miss Zarves waved goodbye. He felt sad. He didn’t want to leave.

“Calvin, are you okay?” His mother shook him awake. “You were moaning in your sleep.”

Calvin rubbed his eyes. He felt like he hadn’t slept at all. “What did I say?”

“You said you didn’t want to go,” she answered. She touched his forehead. “I think you have a fever. Maybe you should stay home today.”

“I’m fine,” Calvin said again. He really, really hated it when adults worried about him. “I’ll wash my face.”

But washing his face didn’t fix anything.

He took the first bus to school, so early that even the sun wasn’t sure it wanted to be awake yet. He tried to skip up the stairs but ran out of breath almost immediately. He stopped to rest beside a big round mirror on the wall. It was there so kids wouldn’t bump into each other on the narrow stairs.

Calvin stared into the mirror. It looked just like the traffic mirror outside. And just like that one, it made everything look a little unreal.

On the right side of the mirror was the normal staircase.

On the left side was something else.

“What if I take the stairs on the left?” Calvin wondered. “What will happen?”

He stepped onto the left staircase and climbed. At the top, he almost bumped into a pair of big double doors. A sign above them said 19.

Calvin squeezed through the doors and found a long hallway with elevators on both sides. At the very end was a classroom door.

He knocked.

“Come in,” said a warm voice.

Calvin stepped inside. Miss Zarves sat at her desk, writing in a little notebook. She looked just like the teacher from his dream.

“You’re early today,” she said. Then she looked up. “Oh! You’re not one of my students, are you?”

“My name is Calvin,” he said. “I’m in Mrs. Jewls’s class. She teaches the class on the thirtieth story.”

“The thirtieth story?” Miss Zarves gasped. “Everybody knows the thirtieth story was never built.”

“It wasn’t?” Calvin blinked.

“No,” she said. “The builder said he was very sorry.”

Calvin frowned. “Hold on. I come from the real Wayside School.”

“The real Wayside School?” Miss Zarves laughed.

“Yes! In the real Wayside School, the nineteenth story was never built, and you don’t exist. And Mrs. Jewls teaches the class on the thirtieth story.”

Miss Zarves squinted at him. “But that doesn’t make sense. If the nineteenth story was never built, then your school only has twenty-nine stories. Are you sure Mrs. Jewls is real?”

“Of course she’s real!” Calvin cried. “And so am I! I’ll prove it to you!”

He dashed out of the classroom and ran to the elevator. He was going to check Mrs. Jewls’s mailbox in the administration office.

He pressed the button. When he turned around, Miss Zarves was standing outside the elevator.

“I promise you this is the real Wayside School,” she said. “Maybe you should stay here.”

Calvin shook his head. “I have to go.”

Miss Zarves nodded and waved goodbye. Calvin didn’t wave back. He felt sad about leaving, but he didn’t have a choice.

The doors slid shut.

ISLAND

This story offers an explanation for why everyone in Mrs. Jewls’s class believes Bebe is such a talented artist. Before we dive into the fan‑fiction, let’s take a look at Chapter 6 in Sideways Stories from Wayside School.

CHAPTER 6. BEBE — SUMMARY

Calvin and Bebe sit next to each other. Since Calvin believes Bebe is far better at drawing than he is, he spends art class helping her create as many pictures as possible instead of drawing anything himself. By the end of the lesson, however, Mrs. Jewls explains that art isn’t measured by how many pictures you make, but by how beautiful they are. Hearing this, Bebe throws all her drawings into the trash and heads home, where she completely overhauls her style by practicing very slowly.

It was almost the end of recess when Louis burst out of the school building and hurried toward the kickball field.

“Todd!” he called. “I need a quick favor!”

Todd dropped the ball and jogged over. “Sure, Louis. Anything.”

“Miss Mush just got a giant delivery of vegetables,” Louis explained. “She wants me to help carry the crates upstairs. Could you guys gather all the balls and take them to the sports gear room for me?”

Todd nodded. “We can do that. But who’s going to lock the door after we’re done?”

“Don’t worry,” Louis said. “It closes automatically. Just put the balls on the racks and leave. And don’t play with the equipment.”

He thanked Todd and dashed back inside. The bell rang just as he disappeared up the stairs.

“Alright, everyone,” Todd said. “Let’s see if we can carry the balls without dropping any.”

Mrs. Jewls’s class worked together, wobbling up the stairs with armfuls of basketballs, soccer balls, and kickballs. Luckily, not a single one escaped.

Todd sighed with relief as he looked around the sports gear room. Everything was on the racks, and they still had time to get to class.

Then the door slammed shut with a loud bang.

“Oh no,” Todd groaned.

“What?” Calvin asked. “Did we lose a ball?”

“No,” Todd said. “The door locks automatically. We’re stuck until Louis comes back.”

“Maybe some of us are still outside,” Bebe suggested. “They can tell Mrs. Jewls.”

Todd counted. Twenty seven students. All inside.

“Nope,” he muttered. “Louis is the only one who knows where we are.”

Stephen immediately began pounding on the door. “HELLO? ANYBODY?”

“Nobody can hear you,” Todd said. “Everyone’s in class.”

“There has to be something we can do!” Stephen insisted.

“The best thing we can do is not panic,” Todd said. “So, stop pounding.”

“How can I not panic?” Stephen cried. “We’re twenty seven people crammed in a room!”

Todd shrugged. “It’s the same as being in Mrs. Jewls’s class. And the best cure for panic is a game.”

“Excellent!” Terrence shouted. “Let’s kick the balls around until the walls turn purple!”

“No,” Todd snapped. “Louis said no touching the equipment. We’ll play ISLAND.”

Terrence wrinkled his nose. “ISLAND? What’s that?”

“It’s a party game,” Todd explained. “We pretend we’re stranded on a desert island. Everyone has to add something to the escape plan. We can’t escape until everything we need is drawn or painted.”

“But we don’t have paper,” Bebe pointed out.

Todd gestured toward a cupboard. “Let’s check there.”

“Hey, you said we can’t touch anything,” Terrence warned.

“We can’t touch equipment,” Todd corrected. He opened the cupboard. The shelves were crammed with stacks of paper and piles of pencils. And there were enough sharpeners to supply an army.

“I’m drawing an airplane,” Calvin announced. “Fastest way off the island.”

“Good luck,” Bebe laughed. “First we need food.”

She quickly sketched bananas and handed one to everyone.

“These bananas look weird,” Stephen muttered.

“But they’re delicious, aren’t they?” Bebe teased. “Come on, Stephen. We have to move fast.”

“Relax,” Terrence said. “Calvin’s already drawing the airplane.”

“Drawing an airplane will take forever,” Bebe replied. “We should build a boat. I’ll draw axes so we can chop wood. Everyone else, palm trees!”

The class watched in awe as Bebe filled the pages with axes, palm trees, a sturdy boat, oars, and even a rescue flag. They were just being rescued by a coast guard ship when the door opened.

“There you are!” Louis exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”

“We were about to escape,” Todd said. “Thanks to Bebe’s amazing skills.”

“Calvin!” Louis called. “Aren’t you coming?”

Calvin was still hunched in a corner, scribbling furiously. “I can’t leave yet,” he mumbled. “My airplane isn’t finished.”

Todd helped him up and patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. Bebe already rescued us. She really is the best draw in the whole world.”