Chapter 8

GARRETTSVILLE IDOL

“Rodney, get up!” my dad yelled, pushing open my door. “It’s a wonderful morning!”

“Huh?” I yawned.

“Hurry! Get dressed and come down to breakfast.”

I hadn’t seen him this excited since he found out Garrettsville had a Dairy Queen. “What’s the rush?” I asked.

“Rush?” he echoed back. “I’ve been waiting all morning for you to get up.”

I was about to ask why but he was gone in a flash. I pulled on my jeans and a T-shirt and shuffled down the stairs. Penny pushed her way past me going up the stairs. She looked glum.

“Rodney, Rodney, Rodney. It’s all I hear.” She turned at the top of the stairs. “We both know this popularity stuff isn’t going to last.”

She seemed even more annoyed at me than usual. What had set her off? I rounded into the kitchen and found the answer. My mom and dad were staring at a newspaper on the kitchen table. “Isn’t this exciting?” my mom gushed without taking her eyes from the paper.

“Isn’t what exciting?” I started to ask but my dad interrupted me.

“Put on some shoes. We’ve got to head down to the newsstand before they’re all gone!”

“Before what’s all gone?”

“This!”

He held up the back page of the newspaper. A familiar-looking kid in a black-and-gold football uniform stared back at me. I took a step closer and saw there was a reason the kid’s face looked familiar. It was me! Taking up almost the whole page! In the picture I held my helmet in the crook of my arm. Several of my teammates were small and out of focus in the background but I was as large and sharp as could be. My hair was wet with sweat and I was staring off, looking serious and confident. Storm clouds hung dramatically low over the horizon. I definitely looked the part of football hero . . . I’d give Rishi that.

My mom was smiling proudly. “You look so handsome and grown up. And look, the caption says, ‘Rodney Rathbone, G-Men Football Star.’ I want to mail a copy to Aunt Evelyn. Go with your dad and get some more. Hurry!”

Sunday mornings are usually a quiet time at my house but today everyone was telling me to hurry. I ran down the driveway after my father. He was almost pulling away as I jumped in. “Be sure to get plenty of copies!” my mom called after us.

As my dad and I drove downtown I kept thinking about the full-page ad in my hands. What would this mean for me? Yes, it was pretty cool to see myself occupying the back page of the newspaper, but what would happen in school? What would the rest of the team think of me being singled out? I knew that Trevor wouldn’t appreciate it. Just last night I had come to the conclusion that I needed Trevor more than ever if we were going to win the next few games.

Win the next few games. I was so caught up in the picture of me that I had forgotten about the Boss. My stomach tightened into a knot. For the first time I let my eyes drift down to the writing below the photo:

WE GUARANTEE THAT G-MEN FOOTBALL WINS EVERY GAME BETWEEN NOW AND THE GRAND OPENING . . . OR DINNER’S ON US!

It was signed, THE GANG AT MAMA’S RESTAURANT.

I gulped as my dad pulled into a spot. He was in a rush to get out of the car but I lingered, thinking that my sister had been right earlier. Thanks to Rishi’s dumb ad, everything would be coming to an end real soon for me.

Unless, of course, no one paid attention to it! A wave of relief suddenly washed over me. How silly I had been. The rest of Garrettsville probably wouldn’t even notice the ad.

“There he is!” someone screamed. “It’s Rodney Rathbone!”

“I saw him first,” another voice chimed in. They were all holding newspapers.

My dad stood outside the car and held up his hands to the gathering crowd. “People, people, calm down. There’s plenty of Rodney for everyone.”

What? As I slid down in the seat I heard him continue, “I just spoke to Rodney’s agent this morning and there will be a formal autograph session this afternoon. In the meantime, the father of the football star would be very happy to sign your newspapers!”

His smile stretched from ear to ear. At least one Rathbone was enjoying himself.

Any hopes that the advertisement would go unnoticed in school the next day were dashed before I even had a chance to walk through the front doors. Standing on the steps, quite near where my horrible, hated football career had begun, I was met by Rishi handing out newspapers to a throng of students.

I was about to yell at him when my worries were replaced by an unexpectedly pleasant surprise. Fifteen or so girls stood clearly waiting for me. “I like your picture, Rodney,” said one girl who I didn’t even know. I think she was blushing. My pulse quickened. My mom had said I looked handsome, but moms always say that.

“Errr, thanks,” I replied.

“Can you sign mine?” asked another girl.

I liked the attention, but then I saw Jessica among the group and my knees buckled. A number of hands helped prop me back up. I regained my composure as our eyes met. My face got hot and I smiled at her.

Kayla stepped between us. My smile sagged. “Don’t think some fancy camera work and media attention is going to get you anywhere,” she scolded. “We know what you’re all about. Don’t we, Jessica. Jessica?”

Jessica stepped around her and returned my smile. “I don’t want to be late for class. We’ll be at your next game, Rodney.”

What? Really? Wow! I love football! I felt dizzy. The day was actually turning out really good.

For some of us. Kayla, on the other hand, stamped her foot and I noticed her face redden. She turned to follow Jessica but Rishi sprang up in her way. “So you think my camera work is fancy?”

“Grrrrrrgghhhhhhhh!” She roughly pushed past him.

“Yup, she likes me,” he said to me. “Maybe I’ll ask her out to Mama’s. With all the great PR work I’ve done for him, I bet the Boss would let us eat for free.”

“For free?” I shouted. “You and everyone else in Ohio will be eating for free! There’s no way the G-Men can win a football game, and besides, what ‘great PR’? He hates both of us right now. Remember that little meeting in the locker room on Saturday?”

“Rodney, he’s just excitable. Everything’s going perfectly.”

“Perfectly?”

“Yeah, perfectly. He just offered us another twenty dollars each to put up more flyers around town. Where else can we make that kind of money?”

I had to admit he had a point, but there was a problem. I knew my mom and dad wouldn’t want me hanging around someone like the Boss, and they definitely wouldn’t want me taking money from him. I had decided not to tell them . . . for now.

Suddenly Rishi uttered words I never thought I’d hear leave his mouth. “Anyway, Rodney, money isn’t everything.” I realized he wasn’t joking when he added, “Just look around you.”

I did. Everyone was happy and smiling. A couple of students were still waiting patiently for my autograph. Maybe Rishi was right. Maybe he did know what he was doing.

“And don’t forget,” he added, “I’m the one doing the heavy lifting around here. You have it easy. I even let you skip yesterday’s autograph session. All you have to do is win a few football games. Now, which way did Kayla go?”

I didn’t notice. For a split second I had locked eyes with Trevor—the one person who had me worried. And judging from the look on his face I had every reason to be concerned. “Talk to you later, Rishi,” I said. If he replied I didn’t hear him. I had to take care of something important.

Trevor never walked straight to class in the morning. He would visit his office first, otherwise known as the second-floor bathroom. Today was no different. I followed him up there and watched the door close behind him with a heavy thud.

I’d never been in the second-floor bathroom. Of all the bathrooms in the school, this one had the toughest reputation. I’d heard tales whispered on the bus of the things that had gone down in there over the years. Horrible stories. Stories that convinced me to make the nurse’s bathroom my toilet of choice.

But Trevor was in there and I figured Trevor, our best football player, was the one guy who had a slight chance of saving me from the Boss. I hesitated before going in. What if he picked a fight because of all the attention I was getting? After a few minutes I decided it was a chance I’d have to take. I gulped, said a prayer, pushed open the door—and was immediately struck in the face.

Only not by Trevor’s fist. It was worse. Perhaps the most awful smell I’d ever inhaled choked me and made my eyes water. Trevor, who was washing his hands, saw me in the mirror. “Like that, Rathbone?” he laughed. “Onion rings. I love ’em, but whooooooo-eeee!”

I pulled my shirt up over my nose. “Good game yesterday. The defense played great.”

“What?” Trevor asked. “I can’t hear you through your shirt.”

It was clearly a trick. Without lowering my shirt I repeated what I had said. This time he just shrugged and added more soap to his hands. “I didn’t see myself in the paper after the game,” he finally answered. “I saw this other guy. Then I saw all these girls lined up to see this other guy. And then, then I got mad, but I remembered what the school psychologist is always telling me, so I didn’t punch the other guy. Plus there were some teachers walking around. I figured maybe one day I’d get this other guy alone. And look—what do you know? The other guy is standing right in front of me.”

“Where?” I almost shouted, but Trevor didn’t look like he would appreciate that. He had finished washing his hands and was now drying them by making fists. I considered bolting. Then I remembered a trick I had used on bullies in the past. Sometimes the smartest thing is to just pretend you didn’t hear their threats. “I think we’re playing Mantua next week,” I said, lowering my shirt from my nose. “Think we can win?”

“Rathbone, we never win.”

“But maybe we could start winning.” Wow, my trick had worked. Just for good measure I threw in a compliment. “You’re our best player, Trevor. You could really get the team going.”

“I’m quitting.”

The shock made me inhale sharply. After spluttering and wiping my watering eyes, I managed, “What? You can’t quit. You’re too good.” What I wanted to say was, “You can’t quit or the Boss will make Beet Parmesan out of me!”

“Rodney, I played football to impress the girls. Josie won’t even speak to me. My heart’s not into playing anymore. You know how it is . . .” He looked more depressed than fearsome. “I’m done with football,” he continued. “You even said you’d get me a date. How’s that going? Not too good, I bet.”

This was horrible. Every time I mentioned Trevor to Josie she’d go, “Ewww, he’s gross,” and start in about the demolition derby date. There was no way I could get her to go out with him.

Trevor stared at himself in the mirror for a few long seconds. Then he turned to me and took a step closer. The mean, scary look was back in his eyes. “Yeah, Rathbone, there’s not much point to playing anymore, is there? Looks like there’s only one thing left to make me happy.” He cracked his knuckles and stepped closer still.

I’m not sure if it was the threat of Trevor’s fist or picturing Cheese lurking outside my bedroom window but my mouth took over. “Trevor, guess what I came in here to tell you?”

He paused.

My mouth continued, “I got you a date with Josie next Saturday night.”

“Rodney, that’s the best thing anyone’s ever told me. I owe you! I’ll do you any favor.” He grabbed my hand and started pumping it up and down. Good thing I’d seen him wash so thoroughly.

“Any favor?” I repeated. “Just try to win next week. Josie said she’d love to see the G-Men win at least one time while she’s head cheerleader.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to make sure we win. Hey, you’re not lying to me now, are you?” His grip tightened.

“I never lie,” I lied. “No, Josie said she couldn’t wait.”

His hand released mine and he actually tousled my hair. “Rodney, you’re the best.” He turned back to the mirror. “Do you think I need a haircut?” He smiled at himself then made his hand look like a gun and fired it at his reflection. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I look good either way. See you at practice, Rathbone.”

He walked out. As the door clicked shut, reality kicked in. What had I just gotten myself into? There was no way Josie was going out with Trevor on Saturday.

My life was beginning to stink worse than this bathroom!

That afternoon I sat staring out my bedroom window. How was I going to set up a date between Josie and Trevor? I kept trying to come up with a plan but it was no good . . . I was drawing a blank. I knew deep down that this problem was way beyond anything my brain could figure out. It called for someone so shrewd, so devious, so manipulative that even the C.I.A. would fear him.

“Rishi,” I said into the phone, “I need your help.”

“That’s what I’m here for. What can I do? Contact the papers for interviews? Speak to the Boss about expanding our role?”

“No, not that. Just listen for a second. I have to get a date with Josie next Sat—”

“Holy smokes! Josie? The cheerleader? I thought you still liked Jessica . . .”

“Rishi, I—”

“Oh, I get it, you’re trying to make Jessica jealous. Sneaky, Rodney, sneaky, but I like it. I could make a video of the date and e-mail it to her.”

“Rishi, you’re not listening to—”

“I’ll get the Boss to hold a private dinner for the two of you. Lots of candles. You should order Josie strawberries. No, lobster. Hmmm, I got it—chocolate-dipped strawberries! No, chocolate-dipped lobster.”

“Rishi!” I snapped. “I don’t want to go on the date with her. I’m talking about Trevor.”

There was a pause. “You want to go on a date with Trevor?”

“No!” I tried again. “I want Josie to go on a date with Trevor.”

“Why would you possibly want that?” Poor Rishi was having a hard time following me. Finally he just said, “If you’re looking to hook someone up on a date, I can think of a guy with dark flowing hair, skin the color of the most delicious caramel, a legendary personality . . .”

“Listen, I kind of promised I’d help Trevor, that’s all. He was real upset about Josie. Plus it will make him play better. Remember, we need to start winning football games.”

“But you’re the star player!”

“Rishi, you’re beginning to believe your own publicity.”

“That’s true. See how good I am?”

“Anyway, football isn’t tennis. It’s a team sport and I need Trevor to get the defense going.”

“Okay, I get it. Do you still like my idea of holding the date at Mama’s Restaurant?”

“Yes, that’s great. I knew I could count on you to get this going.”

“All right, Rodney. I’ll call the Boss right now. Besides, I want to check with him to see if he has more work for us.”

“Has he paid you yet for all the flyers we hung?”

“Well, not yet, but I know he’s good for it. Anyway, like I was saying, by the time I get through with that place, Mama’s will be the most romantic spot east of the Mississippi. Talk to you later!”

Rishi was a good help but I was still in trouble. I had a place for a date but no way to get Josie interested in Trevor. None of my other friends would have a clue of what to do.

I glanced up at the bulletin board above my desk. I’d hung pictures there from my summer at Camp Wy-Mee. It was only about a month ago but it seemed a world away. There was a picture of Mr. Periwinkle and me sitting under his favorite beech tree. Next to it was a picture of our cabin, Loserville. I was standing in the middle surrounded by all my friends. As I looked at their faces I felt a little sad. I wondered if there was such a thing as camp-sickness. Besides Josh and me, Stinky was in the picture. I could see his wet armpit stains. Next to him, Thorin held an aluminum baseball bat high above his head pretending it was a sword named Orcrist. Next to him was my best friend in the bunch, Fernando. He was wearing a silk burgundy robe smirking at the camera. Next to him—

Fernando!!!

I fell out of my chair. Why hadn’t I thought of it sooner? Fernando was a world-class expert on romance and girls. He would know what to do about Josie! I pulled open my drawer and rustled through a bunch of papers looking for the Post-it with his number. Right before search-panic set in I found it stuck to a brochure from Camp Wy-Mee.

With sweaty fingers and a racing heart I hit the numbers. If there was anyone who would know what to do it was Fernando. It rang and rang. Eventually the message clicked on. “Hellooo. You’ve reached the voice mailbox of . . . Fernando. I am currently doing something exciting and romantic, but if you’d leave your name, number, and text me a picture, I’ll be sure to call you soon. Adios, for now.”

Beep. “Fernando, it’s Rodney . . .”

I launched into my problem, giving him all the major details. Five minutes later my phone rang. “Rodney, it was great to hear your voice, and even greater to hear that you are still searching high and low for adventures. You were right to call me. This sounds like a job for Fernando. I will be there Thursday evening.”

“Don’t you have school in Canton on Friday?” I asked.

“On Friday I will have school in Garrettsville.”

“How will you do that? You’re not enrolled here.”

“Leave that to Fernando. I need time in your school to get the feel. I want to meet this Josie and I’ll need to see Trevor. There is work to be done. You just get your parents ready for my visit. I’ll be arriving Thursday and leaving Sunday. This will be a weekend to remember. Now, I go!” Click.

I hoped it would be a weekend to remember for all the right reasons. Even so, I trusted Fernando and began to feel better about things. For the first time all day I actually relaxed and stretched out in the chair, letting my eyes wander back to the bulletin board. Next to the camp pictures was a big blank space where last year’s calendar had hung. “What the heck,” I thought, getting up and grabbing something off the bed. “It’s not every day you’re a football star.”

The picture of me on the back page of the paper took up half the bulletin board, but darn I looked good! In fact, I was so busy admiring myself that I barely noticed Penny burst out laughing when she walked by.