Lump (2 page)

 

*****

Buzz
'
s next stop was a yellow house on Lime Street, three blocks up and two blocks over. He felt funny coasting up to it in broad daylight; most of his previous visits had been in the darkest depths of night.

Before he
'
d even stopped his bike at the curb, the white front door swung open
and
crashed
against the siding
. What he saw next almost made him turn around and leave.

Mrs. Clementine, his
math teacher
from school
, barged out of the house with a cell phone in one hand...and a double-
barreled
shotgun in the other. Her
bright green
eyes were wide,
her mou
n
tain of red hair twitching,
her features twisted i
n a look of pure
murderous
rage.
She slammed the door shut behind her like she was trying to smash the frame into matchsticks.

Buzz had never seen her so angry, and that was really saying something.
After all, h
e
'
d made it his personal mission in the fifth grade to get a rise out of her
as often as possible
.

Buzz stopped h
is bike at the end of the walk and swallowed hard. The sight of Mrs. Clementine charging forward with her shotgun
at the ready
kicked up two
conflicting
feelings
: on the one hand, Buzz thought maybe it wasn
'
t such a good idea to try to talk to her;
then again
,
if he was looking for proof of his lack of niceness, he figured he
'
d come to the right place.

"
Keep moving!
"
Mrs. Clementine got to within ten feet of Buzz, then stopped.
"
You
'
re not welcome here!
"

"
Hello, Mrs. Clementine.
"
Buzz had to work a little to keep his voice and smile steady. That big gun of hers was making him nervous.

"
Don
'
t you
'
hello
'
me.
"
She held up the phone.
"
I
'
ve got the cops on speed-dial. So help me God, I
'
ll hit that button if you
'
re not
gone
in thirty seconds.
"

"
I
'
m just here to talk, Mrs. Clementine.
"
Buzz nodded with priestly sincerity.
"
Scout
'
s honor.
"

"
You
'
re no scout.
"
Mrs. Clementine narrowed her eyes.
"
Unless the
antichrist
has started up a troop.
"

Buzz was half-scared, half-proud of himself. Her crazed anger was all his doing. She
'
d started out the school year as sweet and level-headed
as an angel in the classroom...an angel he
'
d put through a shredder, then a chipper,
then a blender,
then a nuclear
bomb
.

Now was
that
the work of a kid who didn
'
t deserve a lump of
coal
?

"
Please
, Mrs
. Clementine.
"
Buzz tried
harder to look and sound sincere.
"
I just want to ask you a question.
"

"
How about if
I
ask the questions?
"
snapped Mrs. Clementine.
"
Like, how many more times do you think you can
vandalize
my
ho
m
e
and get away with it?
"

Buzz shrugged.
"
I don
'
t know what you
'
re talking about,
"
he said, though of course he knew
exactly
what she was talking about.

"
Oh, of
course
you don
'
t.
"
Mrs. Clementine sneered.
"
I can
'
t
imagine
what gave me
that
idea.
"

"
That makes two of us
.
"

"
It couldn
'
t
possibly
have anything to do with the fact that you
'
re the
wickedest
student in the fifth grade?
"
Mrs. Clementine tossed her head,
making her mountain of hair jiggle like a
Jell-O
mold.
"
In
any
grade, for that matter.
"

Buzz felt a rush of pride but kept it to himself.
"
You really think so?
"
He frowned as if she
'
d hurt his tender feelings.

"
It couldn
'
t have anything to do with the veiled
threats
you
'
ve made, could it?
"
Mrs. Clementine snorted.
"
All the things you
'
ve said might
'
accidentally happen
'
if I don
'
t give you passing grades?
"

"
Threats?
"
Buzz raised his eyebrows, looking innocent
as a lamb
denying a fart
.
"
Are you sure you
'
re not thinking of some other kid?
"

Mrs. Clementine
'
s top lip curled up in disgust.
"
Fourteen
incidents in less than
four months
.
That
'
s
what I
'
ve had to
deal
with.
Garbage
dumped in my pool...
eggs
pitched at my siding...
garden gnomes
smashed to pieces...
lawn furniture
set on fire...
M-80s
blowing up my downspouts...
vulgarities
spray-painted on my car
...
mud pies
splattered on my windows...
"

Buzz grinned inside.
Those pies weren
'
t mud...

"
And after every
incident
, there you were, sitting in class
with a look on your face like the
cat
who
'
d swallowed the
canary.
"
Mrs. Clementine
'
s face was as red as her mountain of hair
by now, flushed from her breathless
rant.
"
And
every single time
, whenever my back was turned, I
'
d hear you
say
it...I
'
d hear you say the
word
.
"

"
What word was that?
"
said Buzz.

"
You know what word,
"
hissed Mrs. Clementine.
"
I
knew
it was you, though I could never
prove
it. I
'
d hear it in
class
, in the
hall
, over and over. Just that one word.
"
Quivering with rage, she took a step toward him.
"
Vandalism
.
"

For a moment, Buzz thought about denying it. But honestly, he wasn
'
t sure he could keep a straight face
.

A confession was out of the question, too. Not with that shotgun
staring him in the guilty-as-sin kisser.

Better maybe to try his favorite tactic when it came to the ugly truth
: skate around i
t. Use it to get what he wanted
.
"
So you really think I
'
m the one who
'
s doing the vandalism? You really think I
'
m that bad?
"

"
You
'
re t
he worst student I
'
ve ever taught.
"
A look of undisguised hatred coiled onto
Mrs. Clementine
'
s
face.
"
You
'
ve only been in my class for three and a half months, and already I can tell.
"

Mrs. Clementine hated him. She thought he was the scum of the Earth. It was enough to make a kid feel ashamed and take a hard look at the way he was living. It was enough to make a kid want to turn over a new leaf.

But that kid was nowhere to be found, and if he had been, Buzz would have beat
en
the crap out of him.

As for Buzz, he just reveled in the trash talk and kept digging for answers.
"
Do you mean to tell me you
'
ve never seen me do
anything
nice?
"

Mrs. Clementine sneered.
"
Are you
joking
?
"

"
Not even
once
?
"
Buzz stuck up an index finger.
"
In all the time you
'
ve known me?
"

"
I
'
ve
never
seen you do a
single
nice thing. I don
'
t think you
'
re
capable
of it.
"
Suddenly,
her eyes narrowed.
"
Why do
you
care?
What difference does it make
?
"

Buzz shrugged.
"
I
'
m j
ust curious.
"

Just then, a knowing smirk curled over Mrs. Clementine
'
s face like an oil slick seeping over a blue sea.
"
You
'
re worried about
Santa Claus
, aren
'
t you? You
'
re worried he
'
ll leave a lump of
coal
in your stocking.
"

She couldn
'
t have been more wrong, but Buzz had no interest in setting her straight.
"
I
'
ve gotta go
now.
"
He hopped up on the pedals of his bike and rode in a circle on the street.
"
See you in school, Roberta.
"

He knew she hated it when he called her by her first name...but this time, she didn
'
t mention it.
"
You know what
I
want for Christmas this year, Buzz?
"

Buzz rode another circle on the street.
"
What
'
s that, Roberta?
"
"
For you to set
one foot
on my property, so I can give you the
lumps
you
deserve
.
"
She shook the shotgun in the air.
"
Lumps of
lead
.
"