My Life as a Cartoonist (21 page)

I watch him knead his leg the way my mom kneads dough when she bakes bread. “Does your leg hurt?”

“I've kind of gotten used to it but last night was bad.” He grabs the paper from my desk. “But not as bad as your lettering. Did you write this on a bus with no shock absorbers? While going down a hill?”

I grab the paper back and smooth it out on my desk. For a moment there I almost felt bad for Umberto. So much for being nice.

The two of us work on our strip, a story of two birds with nothing in common. When Ms. McCoddle comes over to check on our progress, she studies the panels carefully, then waits a few minutes before speaking.

“I'm not sure this is making any sense yet,” she says slowly. “And it seems a little negative. Then again, I'm not a cartoonist; you two are. I'm sure it'll come together in the end.”

I'm glad our teacher is confident in our collaboration because I'm sure not. I take the opportunity to ask for permission to use the bathroom.

“You have five minutes before I come looking for you,” Ms. McCoddle says.

The thought of Ms. McCoddle throwing open the door of the boys' room is enough for me to accelerate my pace down the hall. But I don't head toward the bathroom; I hurry to Mr. Owens's room to check on Matt's movie club.

I stand on my toes and sneak a peek into the window of the door. I'm crestfallen when I see Matt in the front of the room laughing. The other kids are laughing too. My worst fears have materialized: The rest of the world is having fun while I have detention.

As I'm about to head back to the classroom, I hear something and at first can't tell what it is. After a moment, I realize someone's crying. I look around the corner to find Carly leaning against her locker in tears. I look between Ms. McCoddle's classroom and Carly. Even with a five-minute deadline, I can't ignore one of my best friends.

“What's the matter?” I ask. “Are you okay?”

She cries harder when she sees me. “Crash just broke up with me.”

“What? Why?”

She shrugs and wipes her tears with the edge of her sleeve. “I asked him but he wouldn't tell me.”

From over my shoulder I hear Ms. McCoddle's voice. “Did I tell you I'd be looking for you, Derek?”

“I'll be right there.”

“I'm counting to three,” she says, as if I'm a baby who needs to be corralled back to his crib for naptime.

“I'm done at four if you can wait for me,” I tell Carly. “Okay?”

She shakes her head. “I just want to go home.”

“One … two…”

“I'm coming!” I race back to Ms. McCoddle's room.
Sheesh, get a life already.

I slide into my seat, but the last thing I'm thinking about is working with Umberto. I haven't heard Carly cry since last year when Ginger the class hedgehog died while Carly was watching her. And I can't get the image of her crying out of my mind; she looked so devastated.

I make it my mission to help Carly through this. As I put together a mental list of ways to take her mind off Crash, a tiny voice in my head becomes louder. And louder.

Carly's not going out with Crash anymore!

It may be bad news for Carly, but it's good news for me.

A Surprise from Umberto

When I ask Matt the next day about the comedy club, he insists it wasn't as much fun without me. “You should've seen Mr. Owens. He was furious when I told him we weren't doing romantic comedies. I think the guy had been prepping for weeks. He tried to shove his briefcase under his desk with his foot, but I know he brought in a pile of sappy DVDs.”

When I tell Matt about seeing Carly yesterday, he's not surprised. “Crash is a waterlogged moron,” he says. “It was only a matter of time before he blew it.”

I nod in agreement but inside I'm thinking:
Carly's already had a relationship begin and end
.
Matt and I have no idea what she's going through
.

I texted Carly last night to see if she wanted to come over after I got back from detention today. She said yes, so I'm hoping Umberto and I can get through this afternoon's session without a lot of drama.

I tried to talk Ms. McCoddle out of detention, not because of Carly, but so I could run my cartoon club. I pulled out all the stops, telling her I was the one in charge and we were covering a ton of new stuff this week. She let me finish, then told me someone else would have to run the club since I'd still be in detention. It made me wonder if she and my mom took how-to-be-firm lessons at the same school.

When I finally get to my desk, I'm surprised to see Umberto looking at my photos of Bodi and Frank stuck inside my folder. I seize them from him.

“I was just checking out your pets. Calm down.”

“Stop going through my stuff!”

“Must be easier drawing a monkey with a real one around,” Umberto continues. “You have a baby seal at home, too?”