Saturday Boy (2 page)

THAT DAY AFTER SCHOOL
I went to my hideout. But not right away. I went home first and had a snack but I was still angry so I didn't really like it as much as I could have even if it
was
a Chocolate Ka-Blam and Chocolate Ka-Blams were usually my favorite.

My hideout was in the loft in the garage. I'd stacked up a bunch of boxes so you couldn't see me from below, and if I pulled the ladder up, then there was no getting to me at all. I was totally safe. Except for the time I saw a fiddleback spider. That time I didn't really feel safe at all. That time freaked me out and I didn't go back for a month.

I had a milk crate to sit on and an old coat that I could put on in case I got cold. There was a skylight pretty much right over my head so I could read the comics that I kept in a plastic box. They were all alphabetized and individually wrapped. Sometimes instead of taking them out of the box I'd just run my fingertips along the top of them and listen to them rustle together.

They were treasures. Mine and my dad's and even some of
his
dad's—
Red Vengeance
number one, for example. Also
Gumshoe Comics
number fourteen featuring the first appearance of Guttersnipe, and issue twenty-three of
The Marvelous Magpie
where her secret identity is revealed. These weren't just classic issues. They were frickin'
epic.

I opened the box and got out a comic and tried to read but couldn't even though it was my favorite issue of
The Exilers
. Instead I sat on the milk crate and felt mad about things. I felt mad that Ms. Dickson had put my sentence about Violet's girly pencil on the board where everyone could see it and I felt mad that everyone saw it. I felt especially mad at Budgie because whenever he got the chance after that he'd put on this high, girly voice and ask to borrow my pencil. Then when we were playing dodgeball during gym class he asked me if I had hearts on my panties and when I told him I didn't wear panties he pulled my pants down.

Mom said I should turn the other cheek and be the bigger person and that Budgie only acts that way because there's sadness in his life that makes him scared and insecure. I didn't know if that was true and even if it was that still didn't make it okay. So I sat there for a long time not reading comics and just being mad. Then I remembered I had some paper and a pen in the box and I got them out and started writing.

Dear Dad,

How are you?

Today was really good.

Ms. Dickson put my sentance on the board because she thought it was the best one. In gym class we played dogeball and I didn't get out once. I even caught the ball when Budgie tried to get me out and everybody cheered. They carried me around on their sholders and everything. It was cool. Coach even said I could be a pro so you don't have to worry about me. I'm doing fine. I can take care of mom with dogeball money.

Love,

Derek

I was in my hideout for so long that when Mom finally called me in for dinner the sky had started to change colors. It wasn't really daytime anymore. But it wasn't really nighttime, either. It was that weird, quiet place in between.

Me and Mom had spaghetti for dinner and by the time I was done eating and had gotten ready for bed and watched the new episode of
Zeroman
I'd pretty much forgotten all about Budgie and Violet's girly pencil and the underwear incident. But once I got in bed and turned out the light I wound up staring at the Apache helicopter for what seemed like forever.

* * *

Me and Dad are buzzing over the desert with two Spitfires hot on our tail. Their machine guns are blazing.
RAT-A-TATTA-TAT! RAT-A-TATTA-TAT!
I weave in and out and in between the bullets as they streak past, barely missing us. My code name is Stingray. I'm wearing pilot sunglasses and chewing on a toothpick. Dad is in front of me in the gunner's seat, his head moving back and forth as he looks for targets.

“These bogies're getting close, Stingray!” Dad shouts, his voice crackling in my headset. “We can't outrun them much longer!”

“Time to go upstairs!” I shout back.

“What? You're crazy!”

“Hang on!”

I pull back on the stick as far as she'll go and the chopper starts to climb into the air as the g-force pushes us down into our seats. The stick's wobbling like mad. I grit my teeth and hold on, biting the toothpick in half. The chopper climbs, climbs, goes upside down and starts to descend. Bright lights flash in my field of vision and as I start to slip into the black I hear a voice—Dad's voice.

“Dammit, Stingray, hang on! I can't do this by myself!”

Amazingly, I snap out of it. The Spitfires are ahead of us now. I can picture the pilots looking around, wondering where we went. Dad's finger slips around the trigger of the Apache's thirty-millimeter chain gun.
RAT-A-TATTA-TATTA-TAT-BOOM! RAT-A-TATTA-TATTA-TAT-BOOM!
The chopper slices through the cloud of smoke, leaving the Spitfires' pilots behind, parachuting down and shaking their fists at us.

“HEY, SATURDAY BOY,”
Budgie said the next morning at the bus stop. “What's on your panties today? Unicorns?”

I wanted to tell him shut up and that I wasn't wearing unicorn underwear. I wanted to tell him that I didn't even
have
unicorn underwear. I wanted to tell him that my underwear was better than his because mine had robots and his probably just had skid marks, but I didn't. I was going to be the bigger person instead. And being the bigger person I decided to help because I figured that's what bigger people did.

“You're only acting like that because there's pain in your life,” I told him.

“What? No there's not!”

“Yes there is. And you're scared and insecure and that's why you're such a fudgebag.”

Budgie's face went blank and I continued to be the bigger person by ignoring him. The bus came and we got on and he still hadn't said anything. He just looked confused. On the way to school this little kid called Ellory barfed up his pancakes all over the place so Budgie spent most of the time making fun of him and by the time we got to school he'd completely forgotten about me.

Ms. Dickson was sitting at her desk when we got to the classroom and after everybody had taken their seats she did roll call. I remembered this one time Ms. Dickson said it was time to call the roll and Budgie said, “Here, roll! Come here, boy! Good roll!”

Even Ms. Dickson had laughed and that never happened. I tried it the next day and got in trouble. Nobody laughed, either. Maybe I said it wrong.

When Ms. Dickson had finished she picked Missy Sprout to take the attendance sheet to the office. She always picked Missy Sprout to do stuff like that but I couldn't figure out why. It's not like she was fast or anything. I bet I could take the attendance sheet to the office and be back a lot faster than Missy Sprout ever could. I wouldn't stop for anything or anyone—not even the hall monitor. Missy Sprout takes so long I bet she stops for tea and crumpets with everyone she sees.

“Now,” said Ms. Dickson, “do any of you know who Charles Dickens is?”

“Your husband!”

“No, Budgie.”

“Your brother!”

Ms. Dickson pinched the top of her nose and closed her eyes. Then she took a deep breath and let it out.

“Let's try this another way,” she said. “Do any of you know
A Christmas Carol
?”

“‘Jingle Bells'!”

“Somebody other than Budgie, maybe?” said Ms. Dickson. “Somebody with their hand up? Violet?”

“Charles Dickens was an author,” Violet said.

“That is correct,” said Ms. Dickson.

Then she asked Violet if she knew what
A Christmas Carol
was about and Violet said she did, so Ms. Dickson asked her to share with the class and she did.

I liked the sound of Violet's voice and the way she said things. I listened to her tell about this mean, old miserly guy called Scrooge and how he had this guy who worked for him named Cratchit and how Scrooge wanted him to work all night but the guy didn't want to because he had a son named Tiny Tim who was really sick and it was Christmas Eve outside. Then she told about how when Scrooge got home he was visited by the ghost of Bob Marley who said there were going to be three more ghosts and they were all going to show him different stuff and they did and in the morning it was Christmas and Scrooge bought a turkey.

“That was very good, Violet,” said Ms. Dickson. “Now, at the end of next month Mr. Putnam and the middle school drama club will be putting on a play of
A Christmas Carol
and he told me he needs two volunteers, one boy and one girl, to be in it.”

I knew what a play was. My mom and dad took me to one once. I don't really remember the name of it but everyone was dressed up like cats. The Christmas carol play sounded good, though. It had ghosts. Maybe I could be one of them. Being a ghost would be cool. Violet's hand was already up. She'd raised it even before Ms. Dickson had finished talking. I put my hand up, too. Mostly so Violet's wouldn't be lonely.

I could feel everybody looking at me. They were probably looking at Violet, too. I looked down at my desk and felt my face get all warm. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Violet. She was smiling like she wasn't bothered by the stares and giggles. Maybe she wasn't. Then Violet was smiling at me and I was smiling back. It felt pretty good.

Later that day when we came in from recess there was a note on my desk from Budgie that said,

Derek loves Vilet.

He didn't sign it or anything but Budgie isn't very good at spelling so I knew it was probably him. I looked around to tell him he was wrong but he was talking with this kid named Barely O'Donahue. His real name was Barry but pretty much everybody called him Barely because he was so short. I crushed up Budgie's note and put it in my desk.

During the last period Sally, who sits behind me, passed me a note. It was from Budgie. Nobody good ever passed me notes
.
It said,

You

I looked over my shoulder at Budgie but he had his head down and he was working. Was that it? Where was the rest of it? That was the worst note ever. I put it in my desk and went back to drawing superheroes in the margins of my math book. About a minute later Sally passed me another note. This one said,

You love

My face started to feel hot all of a sudden. I shoved the note into my desk before anyone could see. I drew Budgie as a big, fat, marshmallow thing with legs and I drew Bonfyre roasting it with her fire bolts. I also added a couple of Boy Scouts who were waiting around to make s'mores out of him. They had a box of graham crackers and everything. Then Sally passed me another note. I should have just put it in my desk without looking at it. I should have eaten it or burned it or done anything but open it but I opened it. In Budgie's big, stupid handwriting it read,

You love her!!!!!!

I crumpled up the note, spun around in my seat, and whipped it at Budgie.

“
Eat it,
fat boy!”

Everything stopped. Ms. Dickson stopped writing on the whiteboard. Everyone stopped working. I think even the clock stopped ticking. Budgie held his hand over his eye like he was hurt even though I could tell he was totally faking. I knew it was wrong but I kinda wished he was hurt for real. Turning the other cheek all the time was hard work. What did they think? That I was made of them?

“Derek! Office! Now!”

Of course. Because it was
my
fault.

I stopped in the boys' room on the way to the office to splash some cold water on my face because all the unfairness had gotten me all hot and mad. I plugged the drain with a paper towel and turned on the cold water in the sink. When it was full I turned the water off. I splashed some on my face and that helped a little but I was still thinking about Budgie sitting there holding his eye like he was hurt and I bet I didn't even hit him. I bet everyone was paying attention to him and feeling bad for him and suddenly I was mad again so I took a deep breath and dunked my head in the sink as far as it would go.

When I pulled my head out of the sink cold water splashed down my neck and onto the front of my shirt and even though I didn't really feel angry anymore, I was still in trouble and now I was wet. I got a paper towel and dried my face and threw it out. Then I got another one and dried my neck and threw that one out. Then I got
another
one and started drying my hair. Ms. Dickson would have said I was dawdling.

The way I saw it, I was just taking the time to do a good job.

I was doing such a good job, in fact, that when the end-of-the-day bell rang I was still standing there. I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like I'd been gutpunched.

I'd completely forgotten to go to the principal's office.

I was toast. I was dead. I was worse than dead—I was doomed. Making a mess in the boys' room and using all the paper towels was one thing, but disobeying a teacher when they'd told you to do something was another. Forget sitting next to the teacher's desk or writing something over and over again on the whiteboard until you couldn't feel your hand anymore, this time Ms. Dickson was going to kill me.

What was I going to do? I couldn't get killed now. What would I say to my mom?

I opened the bathroom door and peeked into the hallway. The doors to the classrooms were open and kids were coming out to get their coats and get ready to go outside to catch the buses. Man, it would be good to be one of those kids right about now. I'd be putting my jacket on and be thinking about Chocolate Ka-Blams and
Zeroman
instead of hiding out in the boys' room with damp hair and no more paper towels.

I had to think of something quick. Kids were starting to stream down the hall past the bathroom and it wasn't like I could just step out and join them. I didn't have my backpack or my jacket, and besides, if Budgie saw me he'd dime me out for sure. I'd have to wait. I couldn't go home without my stuff and I couldn't get my stuff until Ms. Dickson and the class had gone.

I really wanted to stick my head out to see where Ms. Dickson and the rest of the class were but I knew that would be a bad idea so I didn't. Luckily I heard Budgie's fat, dumb laugh coming from down the hall. Somebody must have told him the one about the chicken crossing the road because he's the only one in the whole world who thinks it's funny. I closed the door and waited until I couldn't hear his laugh anymore and when I opened the door again the hallway was empty.

This was it.

I snuck down the hall and into the classroom. Through the windows I could see the turnaround where the buses were lining up with all the kids waiting to get on. I didn't have much time. Soon the buses would be full and they'd drive away and I'd be stuck here. I grabbed all my stuff and was pulling on my jacket when I noticed that Budgie had left his math workbook on his desk.

Budgie. Budgie with the fat, dumb laugh. Budgie whose fault this all was.

I went over and picked up the book and flipped through it a little. We had math homework tonight and he couldn't do it without the book. The nice thing to do would be to bring it to him. The right thing to do would be to bring it to him. He could get in trouble if he didn't do his homework.

I looked out the window again. The buses were filling up. I thought about Budgie and what Mom had said about him having pain in his life. Then I thought about what a pain it was having him in
my
life. I thought about those two things for as long as I could without missing the bus.

Then I glued the book to his desk and ran.

* * *

Mom was waiting for me when I got home.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

I dropped my backpack on the floor and took off my jacket and hung it up and went into the pantry for a Chocolate Ka-Blam. When I turned around Mom was standing in the doorway. Her arms were crossed. She didn't look happy. She looked disappointed and a little sad.

“Do you know who I just got off the phone with?”

“No.”

“Derek.”

“Ms. Dickson?”

“
And
Mr. Howard,” said Mom. “Do you know why they called?”

I nodded and fiddled with the Chocolate Ka-Blam and then put it back on the shelf. I suddenly wasn't very hungry anymore.

I remembered the last thing Mr. Howard had called about. It was easy to remember because Dad had just gotten home and I always remembered everything that happened when he was here.

It'd been late and I was supposed to be in bed but I'd had two sodas at the welcome home party and they'd had caffeine in them so I sat at the bottom of the stairs instead, listening to my daddy's voice as he and Mom talked in the kitchen.

I didn't know what they were talking about and it didn't matter. I'd just missed the sound of my dad's voice. My mom once said she thought Dad must be afraid of the quiet the way he was always talking to himself and singing but I didn't agree. My dad's not afraid of anything. But the quiet is awfully loud when he's away.

I didn't remember how long I'd been sitting there listening but at some point the tone of my dad's voice changed and I started to pay attention. He was angry. I hoped it wasn't because of me.

“What? No. No way. We've been through this once already.”

“We have, Jason, but—”

“Remember first grade? His teacher
decided
there was something wrong with him and wouldn't shut up about it until we agreed to have him tested?”

I didn't remember taking any tests or anything but first grade was ages ago.

“And even after everything came back negative she
still
wouldn't let it go?”

“I remember. I do. Just—”

“Annie, c'mon,” Dad said. “That's messed up.”

“Yes it is.”

“Why can't he just be a high-spirited kid? Why do people feel the need to put labels on everything?” Dad said. “You want a label for Derek? Awesome. There it is. There's your label.”