The Waffler (5 page)

Monty's mom stared at him, thinking. Trying to make up her mind.

Monty knew that now was the moment. His big chance. He added his best impression of Leo's pleading puppy-dog eyes. “Please?”

“
D
id you get
your five facts?” asked Jasmine the next day at the nut-free table. Today the hundred barrettes holding her hair in place were white kitty cats.

“Not exactly,” said Monty, unzipping his lunch box.

That morning, Mrs. Tuttle said she hoped they had all done some good “digging for treasure.” She hoped they had each gotten at least five facts about their Kindergarten Buddy, because soon they would begin writing their first draft—their sloppy copy—all about their Buddy.

“How many did you get?”

Monty had been so busy telling Leo all about his rat that he hadn't found out if Leo had a pet. He'd been so busy telling Leo about his own sisters that all he knew about Leo's sister was she had lice last year. The only solid fact he knew about Leo was that his whole name was Leonard Schwarz the third.

Monty opened up his milk carton and stuck in a straw. “One, basically,” he admitted.

“How are you going to write your sloppy copy?”

Monty figured he could get his facts on Saturday, when Leo came over. Because his mom had said yes to the rat! Bob said he knew a guy who would probably have an extra cage, so last night he and Monty went and picked up the cage and then the rat. The one bad thing was the lid didn't have any clips to keep it on tight. Bob helped him weigh it down with a couple of dictionaries at the corners.

Monty didn't want to explain all this to Jasmine. He wouldn't lie about hanging out with Leo, but he wasn't going to brag about it either. And telling Jasmine, the Town Crier, meant the whole school would know. He just shrugged, as if he didn't know and didn't care.

“Wow,” said Jasmine, a big-eyes, big-mouth expression of shock on her face. “You are in so much trouble!”

“Maybe,” said Monty, and he turned away, scanning the cafetorium. Right away he saw the guys from his class. Ethan Ho. Lagu Luka, the new kid who laughed at his jokes. Monty's old friend and partner in crime, Devin Hightower, glasses strapped around his head so he wouldn't lose them. And orange-haired Tristan Thompson-Brown, who somehow never got in trouble. How long till Monty could sit with them instead of here at the nut-free table? Monty wanted to be at that other table so bad, he broke a rule. The no shouting from table to table rule.

Waving, he called, “Hey, you guys!”

Tristan must have heard him because he looked Monty's way. “Hey,” he shouted, and waved, too. “Hey, Waffles!”

Then Ethan and Lagu and Devin all echoed Tristan.

“Hi, Waffles!”

“Waffles!”

“Waffles, did you have waffles for breakfast?”

“I said, so what are you going to do?” came a voice beside him. “About your five facts?”

Monty didn't answer. He felt all hot and cold at the same time: frozen cold, like he couldn't move; and boiling hot, 'cause he was so mad. Tristan Thompson-Brown was making fun of him, and the other guys were going along. Like it was funny. But it wasn't funny. Not to Monty. He knew what Tristan would say if he asked him not to call him Waffles, though. He'd say,
I was just kidding. Can't you take a joke?
Monty knew that saying something would make it a hundred times worse.

Jasmine kept pestering. “Are you going to tell Mrs. Tuttle?”

“No!” said Monty. “And you better not run and tattle like you always do!”

“I do not!” protested Jasmine.

“You do so!” argued Monty. “You ratted me out—” he started, and then stopped. As he said it, he realized that was being totally rude to his rat. Why did people use the word rat like an insult, anyway? He knew about how some rats were bad—how back in the Middle Ages they had fleas and then the fleas spread diseases—but that didn't mean that all rats were bad. Maybe some were but some—like his—were good.

“You tell on me
all the time
,” said Monty.

“Like when?”

“Like when I wrote
poop
on the school! Like when my pencil hit you
by mistake
! Like when Mrs. Tuttle asked who said we were going to the sewage-treatment plant, and you said Monty!”

“I was just
saying
,” Jasmine defended herself.

“Well, you should stop saying things that get me in trouble!”

Monty could not believe anyone could be so stupid. Jasmine must be pretending she didn't know that saying certain things to certain grown-ups was going to mean certain trouble for the kid she was
just saying
things about! It was the exact same excuse Sierra used yesterday after she blabbed everything to their mom. I was
just saying
. In the end, things hadn't turned out too badly. His mom had said yes to the rat. But Monty was still mad at Sierra. Maybe they
should
do that flip-flop thing.

“I'm sorry!” said Jasmine. “I didn't know! Mrs. Tuttle asked a question and I answered, but I wasn't trying to get you in trouble!” She looked like she was about to cry. “I swear!”

When Sierra
just said
things about him, she was definitely trying to get him in trouble. But maybe Jasmine wasn't. She looked so upset that Monty wondered if he should believe her. Believe her or not, he knew what would happen if Jasmine actually did cry. More trouble for him.

“I'm really sorry,” she said again.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “Chill. You can owe me, all right?” He picked his tuna roll-up from his lunch box. “What you got?”

Jasmine smiled and held up a rolled-up sandwich. “Turkey tortilla!” she said, which seemed to be a signal for all the other kids at the nut-free table to start sharing the contents of their lunches.

“I've got yogurt,” announced Katy.

“Me, too,” said Kelsey. She turned to Kieran and commanded, “Don't say it!”

Kieran said it anyway. “Me, three!” she announced, giggling and spooning up a big gloppy spoonful of yogurt.

“You're not three,” contradicted Kelsey. “You're five. Five years old.”

Kieran's laughing face crumpled, as if she was about to cry. “But I have yo-gurt! And one and two and three!”

Kieran and Kelsey and Katy were like the nut-free family. Katy was a fifth-grader in Sierra's four-five class, Kelsey was in third grade, and Kieran was in Mrs. Calhoun's kindergarten. The two older girls had long ponytails of light brown hair, and Kieran had two light brown pigtails. The other nut-free kid was Sam, who said, “We get it, Kieran. You're the third person who has yogurt. You, three! We get it!”

Sam was in third grade, a year behind Monty. He played soccer, so Monty had seen him around at the tournaments his dad made him go to sometimes, to show support for Sierra. Monty figured he better show some support now for Sam's anti-crying effort. There was way too much almost-crying going on here at the nut-free table.

“We get it, Kieran!” he echoed. “You have yogurt. That's cool.” Hoping to get her off the yogurt subject, he asked, “So, who did you get for a Big Buddy?”

Monty's words did the exact opposite of what he wanted. Tears started streaming from Kieran's blue eyes.

“Good one,” said Katy, the oldest sister.

“What?” demanded Monty. “I was just trying to be nice!”

“She didn't get a Big Buddy,” said Kelsey, the middle sister.

“And she's bummed,” said Katy, which Monty thought was pretty obvious. Kieran's tiny kindergarten face was sopping wet.

Jasmine explained. She had tried to get Kieran for a Little Buddy, but Mrs. Tuttle said no, because the Hidden Treasures Reading Buddy Expedition took place on Wednesday mornings. And Mrs. Calhoun said that on Wednesday mornings Kieran met with the speech therapist. The therapist's schedule was completely full so there was no changing Kieran's time. And it was too important to miss.

Sometimes Monty could not believe how unfair teachers could be. “More important than Reading Buddies?” he demanded. “No way!”

“Way,” contradicted Jasmine, shaking her white kitty-cat head. “That's what Mrs. Tuttle said Mrs. Calhoun said.”

“So she doesn't get a Big Buddy at all?” asked Monty. “That's so stupid! That was, like, the best part of kindergarten!”

Kieran tried to say something, but she couldn't get out more than “I—I—I.” Her little kindergarten chest was heaving up and down with her sobs. Monty didn't blame Kieran for crying, but if she got any louder, he knew what would happen: the teacher's aide would hurry over. And he knew exactly who she would blame: him.

Monty held out his paper napkin. “Kieran, tell you what,” he said. “I have an idea. But you gotta stop crying so you can hear me, right?”

Kieran took the napkin. Smearing her tears all over her face, she sniffed a giant sniff. Smiled a tiny smile. “What?” she asked.

“I'll be your Buddy.”

It felt like when Mr. Milkovich made the red lights flash and the stop signs pull out on the sides of the bus.
In the name of the king, halt!
Everything stopped. Everyone was looking at him, like he was king of the nut-free table. Jasmine and Sam. Katy and Kelsey. And tiny Kieran with a huge smile on her face.

“You're my Buddy?”

“Leo's my official Buddy, but you can be my
unofficial
Buddy,” he explained, trying to say “unofficial” as if it was something special. “Just for fun, okay? Not for real.”

Still sniffling, Kieran gave him back the tear-smeared napkin. “When?” she asked.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “Recess.”

“Promise?” she asked.

“Promise,” he said.

Jasmine tried to say, “But Mrs. Tuttle said we weren't allowed”— but Monty cut her off.

“That's not fair and you know it!” he hissed. “And you owe me, so you better not tell!”

“I won't!” protested Jasmine. “I would never do that!”

Monty stuck the crumpled napkin in his lunch box. He didn't feel too good about a promise from Jasmine Raines, the Town Crier, insisting that she would never tell something. He felt more like . . . doomed.

T
he next day
at recess Monty leaned against the chain-link fence, bouncing—
boing, boing, boing
—with a tiny book in his back pocket. Overhead, the wind was pushing big white clouds across the blue sky. Across the playground Jasmine Raines was marching toward him, holding the hand of a little girl with light brown pigtails. Kieran. Beside them came Lagu, leading a little girl who looked a lot like him, with black hair in braided pigtails. Who was that?

The two big kids and two little kids reached the fence.

“This is my sister, Winnie,” Lagu said to Monty. To the little girl he said, “This is my friend, Monty. He can be your Buddy!”

“I can
what
?” demanded Monty.

Jasmine's head today was dotted with the smiley-face barrettes, and she had a big, proud smile on her face, too, as if she'd done something really great. “I told him you were going to be Kieran's unofficial Buddy,” she explained. “And he said his sister was in Mrs. Calhoun's class, too. And she needed a Buddy, too, because she has English Language Learners help during Reading Buddies.”

“I told you not to tell anybody!” said Monty.

“I thought you meant teachers!” said Jasmine.

“I meant anybody!” shouted Monty. “You didn't tell anybody else, did you?”

“Hardly anybody,” cried Jasmine, with a scared look on her face. “Just one other kid.”

“Who?” demanded Monty, but the answer was galloping toward him, kicking a soccer ball on the way: Sierra.

His sister came to a stop, panting for breath. “Is it true?” she asked.

“Is what true?”

“About all the Buddies?”

“No!” blurted Monty.

Kieran wailed, “But you
promised
!”

“I know,” Monty assured her. “I will.”

He
had
promised Kieran, but he hadn't promised this Winnie kid. He turned to Lagu. “Why can't you be her Buddy?”

“She doesn't want me,” said Lagu, shaking his head. “I'm her brother.”

Monty turned to Jasmine. “Why can't you be her Buddy?”

Jasmine just shook her head, with the same frightened look on her face. Monty couldn't believe this! Jasmine wanted him to do something she was too afraid to do!

Monty was feeling about ten different kinds of mad. He felt mad at Jasmine for blabbing, and for not being willing to be an unofficial Buddy herself. He felt mad at Lagu for going around calling him Waffles, and then asking for a big favor. How unfair was that? And he felt mad at the teachers for thinking that some kids had more important things to do than Reading Buddies. The only people Monty wasn't mad at were the kindergartners. Kieran, the littlest nut-free sister. And Winnie Luka, who had just moved here from across the world, and who asked him, plainly, “Will you be my Buddy?”

Kieran tried helping her out. “Unofficially,” she said. “Not for real.”

“Okay, okay,” said Monty. He sat down cross-legged on the grass. “But remember, Leo's my official Buddy. Where is he, anyway?”

Kieran plunked herself down beside him. “He's not in school today.”

“Absent,” said Winnie, sitting down on his other side.

Jasmine and Lagu and Sierra sat down, too. Great, thought Monty. Everybody was waiting to hear a story—his sister, two unofficial kindergarten Buddies
,
and two—what? Monty didn't know what to call Jasmine and Lagu. Friends? Except friends didn't blab. Friends didn't call names.

“Read!” commanded Kieran.

“Read!” echoed Winnie.

From his back pocket Monty pulled out the book he had brought, but he didn't get any further than the title, “
Chicken Soup with Rice
,” when the fence he was leaning against started shaking. A kid was walking toward them, banging a stick against the fence. Step and
bang
. Step and
bang
. Step and
bang, bang,
bang
. It looked like he was walking all the way around the edge of the playground. In a few seconds he had reached the place where Monty was sitting, with Kieran and Winnie and Jasmine and Lagu and Sierra
in a semicircle around him. The kid had curly blond hair and a Band-Aid arching across his nose.

“Hi, Finn,” said Kieran.

“Hi, Finn,” said Winnie.

The curly-headed kid called Finn didn't answer. He just hit the fence with the stick again.

“Can you go around?” asked Monty. “Please?”

Finn didn't say yes and he didn't say no. Monty didn't know what to do. Maybe he should just move and let the kid go by?

“Finn's in our class,” said Kieran.

“He didn't get a Buddy, either,” said Winnie.

“How come?” asked Monty.

Nobody answered. The girls didn't know where Finn had been during Reading Buddies, and Finn wasn't saying. Monty figured that wherever Finn was being sent for extra help, it wasn't anywhere fun. Extra help usually wasn't. For a minute, Monty went back and forth, trying to decide what to do.

The last thing he needed was another Kindergarten Buddy.

But how much harder could it be, reading to three kids than two?

A lot harder, maybe. Finn didn't look like the kind of kid teachers called
cooperators
. He looked more like he was ready for a fight.

But it would be mean to leave him out, and Monty wasn't into being mean. He knew how that felt.

“Here's the deal,” he said. “Leo's my official Buddy, but these guys are my unofficial Buddies, and you can be, too. Want to?”

Silently, Finn dropped his stick and plopped down on the grass, and Monty began reading.

“‘In January it's so nice

While slipping on the sliding ice,

To sip hot chicken soup with rice.

Sipping once, sipping twice,

Sipping chicken soup with rice.'”

He knew the rhyme by heart, so while he read the words out loud he could think about other things. Like how he'd felt like such a bigshot king when he offered to be Kieran's Buddy. He wasn't feeling much like a king anymore, unless king of kindergartners counted. He was feeling more like a guy with three extra reasons why Mrs. Tuttle was going to be mad at him. And three reasons why Leo was going to be—what? Would Leo be mad, too? And what was Monty's mom going to say when she saw that his “buddy” was five years old? At least Monty didn't have long to wait. His playdate with Leo was tomorrow.

• • •

Saturday morning at his mom's house meant pancakes. Bob was making the pancakes. Monty's mom was putting plates and forks and a big jug of maple syrup on the table. Sierra was sitting on a blanket with Aisha, who was playing with her plastic rainbow cups. And Monty was hanging out with the rat perched on his shoulder, when there was a knock on the door.

Monty's mom said, “You get it, Monty. That must be your friend!” She said
friend
as if it was something wonderful. Like
sunshine
. Or
ice cream
.

Monty opened the door and Leo bounded in wearing light-up sneakers that flashed on and off with every step. From his flashing sneakers up to the top of his buzz-cut head, he was bouncing up and down. “Can I hold the rat? Can I hold the rat? Can I hold the rat?”

Monty's mom made about three different faces in three seconds. First she looked surprised. Then confused. Then, shaking her head, she gave Monty a smile and an
Oh, well
shrug. “Hello, Leo,” she said. “Would you like some pancakes?”

“Sure!” said Leo, bouncing.

Monty grinned. His mom wasn't mad! Problem solved!

Except he still had an even bigger problem. He had to tell Leo about the extra Buddies.

“Buh!” crowed Aisha as she slid the orange cup into the yellow one.

“Good job!” said Sierra. Sierra, who had blabbed to their mom about the rat and the decision-aids. What if she told Leo? Monty couldn't let that happen. He had to be the one. But how? He was trying to figure out what to say and when to say it, when the rat decided to travel from one shoulder to the other. Monty loved how he could feel the rat's feet gripping him. The rat's feet sort of tickled, and sort of scratched, and somehow sort of made Monty feel better. Like he could say what he had to say.

“Let's go outside,” he said. “We can feed the rat some sunflower seeds.”

“Pancakes ready in five minutes,” said Bob.

“And no rat at the table,” said Monty's mom.

“We'll be right back,” promised Monty.

Outside, the sun was shining on the sunflowers. Gently, Monty pried the rat from his shoulder and placed it in Leo's hands. Then he dug a few seeds from the big face of a sunflower and handed one to the rat. As Leo held the rat in his cupped hands, the rat took the seed in his paws and started to nibble it.

“He likes it!” said Leo, a note of awe in his voice.

“Hey, Leo,” said Monty. “I gotta tell you something. Did you know not everybody in your class got a Reading Buddy?”

“They didn't?”

Monty shook his head. “No.”

“Who?”

“Winnie Luka. Her big brother is in my class. And Kieran. She sits at the nut-free table. And some kid named Finn.”

“Give him another seed!” commanded Leo.

Monty gave the rat a second seed. “And you know how you were absent yesterday?”

Leo nodded. “I threw up,” he explained.

“Well, I kind of read them a book during recess.”

“He wants another one,” said Leo.

Monty gave the rat a third sunflower seed. He wasn't sure if Leo understood what he was saying. This was like the slow pull or the fast pull on the Band-Aid. Maybe it was better to get it over with. “And I kind of told them that I could be, like, their unofficial Buddy,” he blurted.

“I'm your Buddy!” insisted Leo.

“You are totally my real, official Buddy,” said Monty, hoping Leo wasn't going to freak.

For a second, Leo studied Monty with his big brown eyes. Finally, he echoed, “Your
official
Buddy,” as if he liked the sound of it.

“Totally,” said Monty.

Leo thought for a while. “I'm the only one who can come to your house,” he bargained.

No problem. Monty could agree to that, if it would keep Leo from freaking. “Only you can come to my house,” vowed Monty. “You're the only one.”

Leo added a final rule. “Only I can hold the rat.”

“Right,” agreed Monty. “Because the rat's at my house.”

Leo nodded. They had a deal. And by the end of the morning, Monty had his five facts.

One (which he already knew): Leo's whole name was Leonard Schwarz the third. Two: Leo had one sister (who had lice last year) and her name was Harriet. Three: Leo and Harriet had a golden retriever named Noodle. Four: Leo's favorite food was pizza and his favorite dessert was apple pie. Five: Leo was a Little Lion Scout, and next month his Scout troop was marching in the parade. And he wanted Monty to come and watch.

“Sure,” said Monty.

“Promise?” asked Leo. “Definitely you promise?”

Why did kindergartners want to promise all the time? He had promised Kieran he'd be her Buddy, and then wound up with Winnie and Finn, too. Promises could be dangerous. But Leo had been a pretty good sport, and Monty figured he owed him.

“Definitely, absolutely, positively promise,” said Monty. “I'll be there.”