stomped on it over and over again, then dropped to my knees and ripped it into a million pieces and threw them into the air. The next thing I knew, Aunt Josie was holding me. There were pieces of the torn drawing in her hair that reminded me of snowflakes. I heard someone sobbing. It was me.
11
MY EYES OPENED in the morning before the alarm went off and I lay there looking up at the Apache helicopter. I took a deep breath and counted seventy-six Mississippis before letting it out. I wasn’t looking forward to today. Not one bit.
Mom was in the kitchen when I got downstairs. She put frozen waffles in the toaster oven and we talked a little while waiting for it to ding. She didn’t say anything about yesterday, though, and if she wasn’t going to bring it up, then neither was I.
When the waffles were ready, Mom got the peanut butter and Marshmallow Fluff out of the cabinet and brought them to the table. Then she filled her mug with coffee and sat across from me, blowing on it a little before taking a sip.
“What happened yesterday?”
“What do you mean?”
“Derek.”
“I got in trouble.”
“I know that,” she said. “What happened?”
I took a knife and spread peanut butter on one waffle and Fluff on the other and then pressed them together like a sandwich. I took a bite and chewed slowly. I didn’t want to tell her it was all Budgie’s fault because she was probably sick of hearing about him but I wasn’t going to lie to her, either.
“Budgie called me a loser and said our castle was stupid,” I said. I expected her to sigh or roll her eyes when she heard Budgie’s name but she didn’t. She looked troubled instead.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. He shouldn’t have said those things,” she said. “You know your castle’s not stupid, right?”
“I guess.”
“What do you mean, you guess?”
I shrugged and stared at the waffle sandwich on my plate. I could feel Mom looking at me, waiting for me to say something.
“I guess it’s not stupid.”
“It’s
She smiled. I smiled, too. Then she frowned.
“But what I’m not proud of is what you did yesterday. Writing on the walls is called vandalism. People can go to jail for that.”
“But Budgie—”
“But nothing,” she said. “Look, Derek, I hate to say it but Budgie is going to keep on being Budgie. If you want to be his friend, then you need to figure out a way to not let him get to you.”
“You mean be the bigger person, right?”
“I just mean you should find a way to live in the same world as Budgie that works for you—preferably one that doesn’t land you in the principal’s office.”
Mom was still talking while I got my book bag and put on my sneakers but my mind was spinning so I wasn’t really listening. Had she really said I didn’t have to be the bigger person anymore?
“So you understand, right?” she said.
“Understand what?”
“That because of yesterday the TV is going to have to stay off for a while.”
“What? For how long?”
“Two weeks.”
“But what about the
“I’m sorry, Derek, but you should’ve thought of that before doing what you did.”
“Nobody does that!” I blurted.
“Derek, stop. You’re making it worse. Stop and think.”
“No! It’s not fair! It’s Budgie’s fault! It’s
“Then why isn’t
“
Mom’s mouth dropped open and her face went white. I don’t think I’d ever yelled at her like that before. It was like I had slapped her. Then I noticed something else—the book I’d been putting in my backpack was no longer in my hand. It was lying on the counter where it had hit the drying rack with enough force to scatter silverware across the countertop and onto the floor. Mom stood up and went past me, her footsteps getting faster as she left the kitchen. They got even quicker as she went up the stairs and by the time I heard her bedroom door close she was practically running.
I didn’t want anyone to sit next to me on the bus that morning. I didn’t want to have to look at anyone or hear or smell them so it figured that as the bus filled up, who should sit next to me but Edwina Stubbs—the biggest, loudest, smelliest girl in school.
“Move in,” she said.
I pulled my book bag onto my lap and moved over until I was smashed up against the wall. Our arms were touching.
“I said move over!”
“I did!” I said. “There’s no room left!”
She made a harrumphing sound that reminded me of farm animals, then she wiggled around in the seat and started talking real loud to someone who was at least two rows back. Somehow her book bag ended up in my lap, so not only was I totally squashed but now I was buried as well.
I tried to get comfortable but couldn’t. It seemed like every time I moved—even a little—more of Edwina Stubbs would fill the space like she were a puddle. I closed my eyes and imagined her as a boneless, flesh-colored blob. In my mind, the Edwina puddle oozed down the fifth-grade hallway, absorbing the slower kids while the others ran screaming. By the time we got to school I imagined she’d absorbed the whole town and everyone in it.
“Hey! Quit trying to steal my bag!” she said, snatching it from my lap.
“But you’re the one who put—”
“If anything is missing,” she said, making a fist and holding it up to my face, “you’ll get this. Got it?”
“We’re gonna be late.”
“Got it?”
“Just get off the bus.”
“I’m watching you,” Edwina said.
With that she oozed into the aisle with the other kids and stood in line waiting, tossing an occasional nasty look back my way. I sat with my book bag in my lap and planned to stay there until the driver kicked me off, suddenly feeling that being threatened by Edwina Stubbs was going to be the best thing that was going to happen to me today.
I wasn’t wrong.
Ms. Dickson gave us a pop quiz I wasn’t prepared for. At lunchtime I realized I’d forgotten to bring mine. Then at afternoon recess I got hit in the face with a kickball during a game I wasn’t even in. The nurse said she hadn’t seen a nose bleed like that in a long time like it was some big accomplishment but when I asked if I’d get an
