No Talking (2 page)

Because Dave really did love to talk. He could talk and talk and talk about almost anything—baseball, cars, dinosaurs, rock hunting, soccer, snowboarding, waterskiing, favorite books, best football players, camping, canoeing, PlayStation, Nintendo, Xbox, comic books, TV shows, movies—you name it. Dave had a long, long list of
interests, and he had plenty of opinions.

Plus, talking always made Dave feel like he was in charge. It was sort of like being a police officer out in the middle of traffic.As long as
he
did the talking, the traffic went the way
he
wanted it to. This was especially useful if insults started flying around. When it came to dishing out the put-downs, Dave was a pro.

But this lunchtime, all the
other
loudmouths were getting a chance to spout off.

So Dave had chewed his pizza, and sipped his milk, and listened. And after a minute or two he began listening to Lynsey Burgess. But only because he couldn't help it.

Even though she was sitting behind him at the next table, and even though the cafeteria was almost bursting with noise, Lynsey had a sharp voice, the kind that cuts like a hacksaw.

“. . . so I said, ‘Are you serious?' and she said, ‘What's wrong with you?' and I said,‘Because I saw it first,' and I did, and it was a great color for me, because my hair's brown, and her hair's that mousy blond color, but her mom was right there in the store, so she picked it up and took it over to her, and her mom bought it! Can you
believe
that? She
knew
I wanted that sweater more than anything, and she bought it anyway. And then? After school on Friday at soccer
practice? She
smiled
at me, like she wanted to be friends or something—as
if
! Can you
believe
that?”

No, Dave couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that anyone could flap and yap her mouth so fast, and say so many words, and be so boring and stupid-sounding, all at the same time. He took another bite of pizza and tried to stop listening, but Lynsey was just getting warmed up.

“...because then,she comes over
after
practice? And she says, ‘Here, this is for you,' and she tries to
give
me the sweater. So I pull my hands away like she's holding a dead skunk or something, and I say, ‘You think I want
that
? That thing is so ugly, I would
never
wear that!' And she says, ‘Oh'—just like that—just, ‘Oh'—and she walks away with the sweater. Except now, I wish I hadn't said that, because it really is the
best
color, and it's really soft. . . .”

By this point, Dave was wishing he had an iPod. Because if he had one, and if it hadn't been against school rules, he could have plugged up both his ears and cranked the volume.Anything to get away from the sound of Lynsey's voice.

“. . . because once I tried wearing this sweater that was made of wool? And it made my neck itch
so
much, like, I couldn't even wear it for two minutes, but it was okay, because then my mom found this
turtleneck way down in the bottom of my dresser, and I'd forgotten I even had it, and it was pink, so then I put that on first, and then the sweater was fine, because, really, it was like the two colors went together
perfectly
, almost like a picture in a magazine. Because last week in
Teen People
? Jenna and Lori and Keith were at this party, like, in Hollywood or somewhere? And Jenna had on a sweater that was almost like that wool one I have, and she was wearing these . . .”

And that was the moment when Dave completely forgot about keeping silent, and he turned around and almost shouted, “If you had to shut up for five minutes, I bet the whole top of your head would explode!”

And Dave was glad he'd said it, even if it wasn't nice, and even though it ended his experiment. Because after he said it, Lynsey stopped talking.

But the quiet only lasted about three seconds. Lynsey said, “Is your
cough
all better? Because I thought I just heard a whiny little voice.” She and her friends stared at Dave.“Did you say something?”

“Yeah, I did,” he said. “I
said
, I bet if you had to shut up for five minutes, the top of your head would explode. Like a volcano. From all the hot gas that usually comes out of your mouth. When you talk
and talk and talk and never stop talking.Yeah.That's what I said.To you.”

Lynsey tilted her head and looked at Dave, sort of the way a bird looks at a bug it's about to eat.

“Oh, like there's something
wrong
with talking? You never have any trouble with
yourself
blabbing and blabbing every day.We've all
heard
you.”And the other girls nodded and made faces.

“Well,” Dave said, “talking's okay, when there's stuff worth saying.”

Lynsey said, “
Ohhh
—so
boys
can say things like, ‘Hey, did you hear this guy got traded to that team, and that guy got traded to this team, and, hey, he hit real good last year, and, ooh yeah, he can really catch!' Boys can talk and talk like that, but girls can't talk about clothes sometimes? Is
that
it?”

Dave said, “No ...but I don't talk the way you talk, like, for a million minutes in a row without stopping. And ...and ...”

Dave was hunting for something strong to say, a real punch line, something that would shut Lynsey up and end this conversation. So he said, “. . . and anyway, boys
never
talk as much as girls do, ever!”

Please take a careful look at that last thing Dave just said.

Because with this particular group of fifth

graders,
that
was a dangerous thing to say.

And now is a good time to tell a little more about the fifth-grade boys and the fifth-grade girls at Laketon Elementary School—to explain why it was a bad idea for Dave to say what he just said.

Because Dave should have kept his mouth shut. He really should have.

W
hen little Dave Packer and all the other kids his age first showed up to begin kindergarten together, it was sort of like they were new recruits joining the army.

And kindergarten was sort of like basic training camp, except the teachers were a lot nicer than army drill instructors.

After nine long months together in kindergarten, Dave and the other new recruits were allowed to quit the army—but only for the summer. Because in September they all had to re-enlist for first grade.

And after first grade, they marched through second grade together, then third, and so on, right through the grades. Together. A few kids moved away, and a couple of new kids arrived, but Dave and those original kindergarten recruits stayed together, year after year.And they began to grow up.Together.

At most elementary schools, by the time a group gets to fifth grade, the boys have stopped thinking that all the girls have cooties, and the girls have stopped thinking that all the boys have cooties. And that's the way it should be—to outgrow that stuff.

For some groups, it's easy.The kids grow up a little bit, and they all learn that everyone's a real person, and some of those persons are boys and some are girls, and suddenly everyone gets along just fine, person to person. No more cooties.

However, some groups of kids cling to those cooties a little too long.The boys avoid the girls, and the girls avoid the boys, and everyone keeps seeing cooties everywhere. And, sadly, that's the way it was with most of the fifth-grade kids at Laketon Elementary School.

Of course, the fifth graders didn't actually use the word “cooties” anymore—that would have sounded like baby talk. They used words like “dumb” or “gross” or “immature” or “annoying.” But a cootie by any other name is still a cootie.

And even worse, Dave and Lynsey were the king and queen of the fifth-grade cootie-clingers. Dave had zero tolerance for girls, and Lynsey had less-than-zero tolerance for boys.

And
that's
why Dave should have kept his mouth shut.

Now it's time to get back to the action in the lunchroom, because when Lynsey heard Dave say “boys never talk as much as girls do,” she felt like all girls everywhere had been insulted, slapped in the face by a dumb, gross, immature, annoying boy. And she hadn't forgotten what Dave had already said, about the top of her head blowing off. Because of hot gas.

Lynsey wasn't the kind of person who forgives and forgets an insult. She was the kind of person who remembers. And then gets even.

L
ynsey narrowed her eyes and hissed, “You take that back!”

Dave shrugged. “Take what back? That girls are big blabberheads all the time? No way—because they
are
! Everybody knows that.”

It's a shame to have to report this, but Dave actually believed what he was saying.And in his ignorant but creative young mind, an idea sparked to life.

Before Lynsey or any of her friends could say something back, Dave said,“And there's a way to
prove
that girls talk way more than boys. Unless you're afraid of some competition, you and your noisy friends.”

“Afraid?” Lynsey said, looking around at the girls. “We're not afraid of anything—except catching whatever made
you
so stupid.”

The girls giggled, but Dave ignored the insult, completely caught up by his new idea. He waved his

hands to quiet them down. “Okay, here's the deal: a whole day of no talking at school. Not in class, not in the halls, not on the playground, nowhere. No talking at all. And it's a contest—boys against girls. Whichever side talks less, wins.”

Lynsey made a face. “No talking? At school? That's impossible.”

Dave had an advantage here. He had just spent almost four hours without saying a word. At school. So he had some experience, and he felt like he knew what he was talking about.

He grinned and said,“Maybe it's impossible for a
girl
to be quiet. But I bet the boys can do it. Or at least, we can do it better than the girls.”

Lynsey said, “But, like, what if a teacher looked right at you and asked a question, then what?”

Dave grinned and said, “You could always . . . cough.”

Lynsey's mouth dropped open, and then she glared at him.“You did that coughing in social studies
on purpose
? You are
so
immature!”

Dave shrugged.“It was sort of a test.And it worked. But if every kid in fifth grade coughed every time a teacher asked a question?
That
would
not
work.”

Lynsey sniffed. “Well,
I
say that this whole idea is ...childish.Silly and childish.”

“It's okay if you don't want to,” Dave said. “It was just an idea. I mean, I can see why you'd be afraid, since you're a girl and all.And since you
have
to talk every other second. No problem. Sorry I interrupted you. Just keep talking to your friends there.You were talking about something important, weren't you? That special sweater, right? Go ahead, talk.You girls go on and talk and talk and talk all you want to.”

Lynsey pressed her lips together and glared at Dave, her eyes narrowed to slits. “You are the most annoying little—” She stopped mid-insult and folded her arms. “All right,” she said. “Let's work out the rules. Right now. If a teacher talks to you, what then?”

“You answer,” Dave said. “How many words can you use?” she asked. Dave smiled.“Let's make it . . . ten words—in case you and your friends need to tell a teacher about some new clothes you got.”

“Stop trying to be funny. Because you're
not
,” Lynsey said.“Make the limit four words. If you answer with more than four words in a row, the extras count.”

Dave shook his head. “Four's still too easy. Let's make it a three-word limit.And every illegal word is one point—
against
your team.”

“Duh,” said Lynsey. “Like I needed you to explain that!”

“So it's a three-word limit?” Dave said. “Three,” said Lynsey,“and you can answer teachers, or the principal . . .”

“. . . or any grown-up at school,” said Dave.“Like the custodian.”

“Or the nurse,” added Lynsey. Because she wasn't about to let Dave Packer have the last word about anything.

“What about contractions?” she asked. “What about 'em?” Dave said. “Does a contraction count as one word or two?” Dave didn't let it show in his face, but he was impressed by Lynsey's question—that she was able to think so far ahead and figure out that words like “won't” or “isn't” could cause a scorekeeping problem. And right away, Dave was just as impressed with himself, because he understood how to answer her question with a question of his own.