"I thought you would ask me that someday. I guess you're ready for the truth."
I rolled my eyes.
"My parents and the principal decided that I should skip second grade because they thought it would be too boring for me."
"Second grade was boring for me, and I didn't get to skip it."
"Yeah, but my boredom is on account of my superior brain."
I was about to tell Weirdo that that must be the reason why his head is so huge, but I was interrupted by an ugly, freckled face.
"I knew that's why you can't do any pull-ups in PE."
It was Mike, the bus bully.
"You're such a dweeb that nobody even knows your real name... Weirdo!"
"That's because you can't handle my real name."
"What? That's stupid. I bet it's a girl's name. C'mon, tell it to me."
"Fine. What's your name."
"You know my name, doofus. What's your name?"
"I told you. What's your name."
"I'm asking you!"
"And I'm telling you. What's your name."
"What's your name?"
"No, that's my name."
"Quit being weird or I'll give you a Charlie horse."
There are five ways of hurting another kid that don't count as picking a fight. They are: the Charlie Horse, the Noogie, the Wedgie, the Indian Rug Burn and the Corkscrew. You can use them on another kid, and the worst that will happen is they will use one back on you. But an actual fight never results until someone gets shoved.
Facing a possible charlie horse, and the litany of torture that could follow, Weirdo bravely spoke in a funny accent.
"My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father. Prepare to die."
Mike scratched his head and looked out the corner of his eye. Then he shook his head and punched Weirdo hard in the shoulder. I winced and Weirdo cowered. Mike was looking proud of his achievement when we heard a strange, high voice nobody had ever heard before. I thought for a moment it could have been Mickey Mouse.
"Leave him alone!"
We all turned around to find the fattest kid on the bus (and in the school) had spoken for the first time that anybody could remember. We stared with wide eyes at the kid who was so fat that one butt cheek touched the side wall of the bus, and the other hung over into the aisle.
"You are a big bully and you should not pick on other kids."
Not only was he speaking, but his first words were used to stand up to a bully, something most of us wouldn't even do with our last words. Mike was delighted. He stood up and moved into the aisle.
"Ha, not only are you fat, but you have an old lady's voice too!"
Fatso crossed his chubby arms over his large stomach and squinted his eyes at Mike.
"Do you want a Noogie."
Fatso pursed his lips and said, "You can't keep picking on us like this."
He was inspiring us all, despite that Mike was already in position and rubbing his knuckles hard into Fatso's skull. Even though I was not involved yet, I knew that I was next in line simply because I was nearby, which meant that I would be getting either the Wedgie, the Indian Rug Burn or the Corkscrew. I decided to attack first.
While Mike was busy with the Noogie I stepped into the aisle and kicked him hard in the shin. He fell to his knees holding his leg and whimpered. I had not used one of the fair implements of torture. A kick was a fight starter. I just picked a fight with the bus bully! My face got hot and I felt real dizzy. I told myself, whatever happens try not to cry.
Suddenly the bus stopped and the driver called out, "Mike, your stop."
Mike glared at me and pushed by to exit the bus. I sat down among Weirdo and Fatso's congratulations for picking a fight with a bully and walking away unharmed.
Weirdo turned to Fatso and studied him. He said jokingly, "You have some explaining to do."
Fatso was happy to speak.
"I've decided to turn over a new leaf. My dad is reading a book on assertiveness training and he's teaching me what he learns. He and I are going to help each other lose weight and start making friends. So he said that I have to start getting out of the house and make friends at school to help divert my attention from food and tv."
Weirdo and I agreed that he could be our friend.
"And my dad is trying to teach me how to be funny. Watch this and tell me if it's funny."
Fatso pretended to take his nose off and eat it. Then he pretended to spit it back out and put it back on his face.
"Was that funny?"
We shook our heads no, then asked Fatso if he wanted to come over to Weirdo's house after school and play basketball. It turned out that he did not live far from us and he could walk over without getting too out of breath.
* * * * *
That afternoon Weirdo and I waited for Fatso to come over. We saw his huge figure waddling down the street. He was wearing red, white and blue sweatbands around his head and wrists, but he still had on the button-up shirt and jeans he wore to school that day. Fatso never played basketball before, so we told him the rules and said that he could just stand by the basket and try to stop us from doing layups.
Weirdo and I dribbled the ball around him while Fatso kept trying to tell jokes. He could never get it right though.
"There was this guy who needed a job, so he got one at the zoo pretending to be a lion. But when the gorilla got in his cage... wait a second, the guy was pretending to be a gorilla and the lion got in his cage... no, wait. He accidentally got in the lion's cage and... ummm."
We kept telling him that he wasn't funny yet, but encouraged him to keep trying.
After a few minutes we noticed Mike riding his bike down the street towards us. When he came closer we saw he had a sandwich bag filled with gravel. As he passed by the driveway he flung the bag open and sprayed us with the rocks.
We tried to act like we didn't notice, but Weirdo had a rock stuck in his ear that I had to help him get out. Mike came riding back up the street again and whipped another bag of gravel at us. One rock hit me in the teeth and Fatso got hit in the forehead with a couple. Weirdo didn't get hit that time because he hid behind Fatso.
Mike threw several more bags of rocks at us in the same way. We decided that he wasn't going to stop any time soon, so we needed to do something. We discussed things we could do to make him stop. Weirdo said we could build a giant shield out of old milk jugs, and Fatso suggested that we use our positive thoughts to guard us from the rocks. We hadn't finalized our plan when Mike returned again.
I quickly picked up a rock the size of a Silly Putty egg and threw it at Mike as he rode by. The rock hit him directly at the top of his forehead. The blow stunned him and the handlebars on his bike wobbled crazily. His balance was lost and he crashed into the muddy ditch on the other side of the street.
Mike slowly got to his feet. He was covered in mud, which we laughed at hysterically. Then we saw a stream of dark, red blood running down his face. We stopped laughing and watched silently as Mike felt at his bloody forehead and started balling. He got on his bike and rode home, leaving dots of blood and mud on the road behind him.
We didn't know whether to be proud and happy, or terrified. I was feeling sick to my stomach, but felt better when when Weirdo patted my shoulder and told me I had incredible aim.
* * * * *
We played basketball for about ten more minutes. Fatso kept us from the basket every time. He was so big that we couldn't get near the hoop, and every time he knocked the ball away from us he called out in his high voice, "Not on my turf!" We decided to play something else.
"Weirdo, I hope you didn't mind me calling this my turf. I know it's your driveway."
"Hey, no problem. Whatever keeps you out of the cupboard is cool with me."
We were making our way to Weirdo's front door when a car screeched into the driveway. First we saw a lady in a bathrobe jump out of the car, then we saw Mike sitting in the passenger seat with a bloody rag on his head and looking as sad as could be.
"Go get your parents, you rotten bullies!"
We all looked at each other, not sure what to do. Weirdo's dad must have heard the car pull up, because he came outside asked the lady what was wrong.
"These kids are wrong, that's what! And your parenting skills are probably all wrong too! Who taught these kids to throw rocks at innocent children riding their bicycles?"
Weirdo's dad looked us over. He took a long time looking Fatso over.
"Is this true, kids? Did you throw a rock at that poor boy?"
"Why are you asking them? Isn't the evidence sitting right there in my car? Look at my poor son. Who's going to pay the doctor to stitch up that gash?"
I must have been looking the guiltiest. After all, I felt like I was about to pass out or throw up. Weirdo's dad wrinkled his forehead and put his hand firm on my shoulder.
"You have some explaining to do."
Weirdo and his dad were always saying the same things.
I didn't know what to say. I had thrown a rock that hit Mike in the head. I couldn't deny it. I was looking to Weirdo and Fatso for help, but they looked as sick to the stomach as I did.
I decided to just open up my mouth to see what came out first, a horrible excuse or a load of puke. Before I could let anything out, we heard loud footsteps walking up the driveway from the street.
A huge man, with arms the size of Weirdo's entire dad, was walking straight at me with a mean stare. Oh no, I thought, is this Mike's dad? I thought about telling Weirdo that he could have my boombox if I died.
The man walked right up to me and demanded, "Are you the one who threw that rock?"
My head nodded up and down a little. This was surely the end of my life. Then the man walked behind Fatso and put his hands on his shoulders.
"Do you think you can teach my son to throw like that?"
Everybody's eyes popped wide open and stared at the man, except for Fatso who patted the man's hand and said to him, "I learned how to play basketball today, dad."
Mike's mom threw her arms into the air.
"Somebody had better start writing me a check for my son's poor head. And I'll get the police involved if you keep condoning this kid's behavior."
Fatso's dad stepped forward and looked down his big belly at her. His voice boomed.
"Woman, you get in that car of yours and drive that no good excuse of a son home. I saw the whole thing from my front porch and was about to take care of that jerk myself until this fine young man," he patted my head, "exercised his precision aim in a brave act of self defense."
Mike's mom turned bright red in the face. She walked backwards to her car waving her finger at Fatso's dad.
"Nobody calls my son a jerk but me!"
She got into the car and slammed the door shut. She whacked Mike on the arm and said stuff we couldn't hear as she pulled away. Mike wouldn't look at us the entire time.
Fatso tried another joke, but gave up before the punchline.
* * * * *
The next day on the bus ride home Mike sat by his self at the front of the bus with a bandage on his forehead. Everybody kept asking him what happened. Each time he acted real cool and said that he went hunting with his cousin and a stray bullet grazed him. When Weirdo bravely asked him what happened he just turned away and frowned.
We sat several seats behind Mike, and Fatso sat behind us. Almost the whole bus ride we discussed what happened the day before. We decided that we wouldn't tell anybody else the truth about Mike's head, but we weren't sure if we should still be afraid of him anymore.
We pulled up to Mike's stop, and Fatso decided to test the waters. As Mike was exiting the bus, Fatso called out to him in his cartoon voice and to the tune of nanny nanny boo boo.
"My dad yelled at your mom."
Mike stopped for a moment, but didn't look back at us. He just scrunched his face up and got off the bus.
Weirdo and I looked at each other, then at Fatso as we both said, "Now that's funny."
No comments:
Post a Comment