Whenever I’m nervous, I say the completely wrong thing. It’s an odd habit that’s gotten me into a ton of trouble over the years. It was about to happen again. I could feel it welling up inside me. My new classroom was totally gray and depressing—gray walls, gray trim, gray shades pulled down to block the sun. As Mrs. Lutzkraut approached her desk, my mouth suddenly spoke out, “I love what you’ve done with the place.” She stopped and spun in my direction, then stared down at me with a hideous scowl.
“What is your name?”
“Rodney Rathbone,” I replied. I heard Toby snicker.
“Well, Mr. Rat-bone . . .”
“Rathbone,” I corrected her. Everyone called me Rat-bone back in New York and I didn’t want it repeated here. Rat-bone. Rat-boy. I had heard it all.
She glared at me for a moment, then yelled, “Don’t interrupt me! I’ve known you for three minutes and you’re already one of the most irritating students I’ve ever had. Sit here.” Her hand slapped an empty desk right in front of hers. “This morning we’ll be discussing my rules and more importantly my punishments, two subjects to which you’d better pay close attention.”
Super, I thought.
As the morning wore on, I came to truly understand how boring boredom could be. The more Mrs. Lutzkraut lectured us, the slower time seemed to pass, leaving me plenty of time to think. My mind kept returning to one question: Could things get any worse? I had gotten the bad teacher and the school thugs were out for me. Even though I was bored in class, I was in no hurry to leave and go to lunch. I didn’t have any friends except Rishi and I wanted to hide from the two monsters I’d already met. My insides twisted when Mrs. Lutzkraut told us to line up and head down to the cafeteria.
A tall lunch aide with pulled-back hair and a nose that seemed to point all the way back to her forehead greeted me with, “Mrs. Lutzkraut’s boys sit at table four.” I noticed that Rishi had positioned himself as far from Toby as possible, so I sat down next to him.
“Who’s that lady with the long nose?” I asked.
“Her? That’s Long Nose. Hey, do you want to see a picture of my grandma’s foot?” Rishi pulled out his camera.
“Uh, not really,” I responded, wondering if my new friend had mental problems.
He laughed. “Hey, now let me introduce you to my buddies.” Motioning to a heavy boy across from me he said, “This is Tim, but we call him Slim. And that,” he pointed to a short, quiet-looking boy, “is Dave. We call him Dave.” Rishi laughed again, and Slim and Dave said hello. Pretty soon the four of us were joking around and my nervousness over Josh, Toby, and Mrs. Lutzkraut faded. Maybe things would be okay after all.
Slim was busy telling about the time he laughed and soda came shooting out his nose. We were all laughing when he suddenly turned white and quickly looked down at his lunch. Something had caused him to react, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what, or who, was standing in back of me.
I turned around. Josh was there, with Toby a little behind. The long-nosed lunch lady was far away talking to other aides and not paying attention to the students. I gulped. Josh reached down and picked up my ham sandwich. “Toby here says you’re a new kid. You lied to me on the bus.”
“No, no I didn’t. I thought you meant new to the United States. Like if I just moved here from Japan or Russia or something . . .”
“He’s definitely a liar,” Toby interrupted. “That’s not a very nice thing to do, Rodneeeey.”
“I agree completely,” I blubbered. “I was just saying to Rishi here how much I hate liars. . . .”
“Yeah, it isn’t very nice to lie to me. I guess you and me goin’ to have a little talk about manners at recess.” With that, Josh squeezed my sandwich in his fist. “Hey Toby,” he asked, “how about a game of ham-ball?” They both laughed as he threw my sandwich halfway across the cafeteria into the side of some kid’s face. The kid, who was drinking from a milk carton, had his head knocked back and milk went flying all over him and three of his friends. He whirled around and jumped up to see who had thrown it, ready for a fight. When he saw Josh and Toby laughing, he slowly turned back and started cleaning up the mess.
“I should be a pitcher. That was a perfect strike,” Josh said. He looked back down at me and sneered, “I’ll see you outside,” and walked off.
Rishi, who had said nothing the whole time, said, “Too bad, Rodney. We probably would have liked you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re dead; that’s what I mean.” That was the second time this morning I had heard those words, and the worst part was that now I believed it. A minute later when we lined up for recess, my three new friends wished me good luck but moved away, not wanting to be near the recess sacrifice.
We filed out through the doors in the back of the cafeteria. Some kids bolted for the soccer field, others for the swings. Being a professional coward, I tore off in search of a place to hide for thirty minutes. I ran and ducked behind a big bush twice my size. My heart was pounding. I tried to peer through the bush, but it was too thick. I didn’t want to stick my head out and get spotted, so I sat blindly, hiding, waiting.
I might have noticed them coming if I could see, but it was too late. The next thing I knew Toby walked around the corner and shouted, “Aha!” Panic gripped me and I took off in the other direction, running smack into Josh.
“Gotcha! Trying to hide? Well, you can’t escape our talk. I think you need a lesson in manners. Isn’t that right, Toby?”
Toby, who was behind me, answered with evil glee, “That’s right. He should know lying isn’t good manners.” Other students noticed the three of us and gathered around. I wondered if this was the kind of excitement my dad was talking about. I’d be sure to tell him all about it later on in the emergency room—if I could, that is.
The crowd encircled us. “That’s right!” Josh yelled, rolling his head back and forth. “Come see me learn the new kid some manners.” I looked for the aides. They were in the distance talking and laughing, completely unaware that I was about to get beaten to a pulp. Frantically, I looked for any other adults that might help me, but all I saw was the high school baseball team practicing on a field on the other side of the fence. I heard the crack of a bat hitting a ball in the distance. A hard shove from Josh knocked me back to reality. This was it.
“So what’ll it be, a black eye or a bloody nose?”
“What’s the third choice?” I asked.
He looked confused. “Enough talking,” he frowned. “Ready to die, new kid?” He pulled back his fist and took aim.
What a dumb question, I began to think, and then it happened . . . an event that was to change my life.
Some kid yelled, “Hey, look up there,” but he didn’t have to, because everyone was looking up anyway as five navy jets zoomed in low over our heads. Everyone looked up but me, that is. I was like a deer in the headlights, just staring straight ahead waiting for Josh’s punch. And that’s probably why I saw the ball—a mammoth home run from the high school team—coming straight our way, over the fence, flying like a bullet, sailing right toward us, and right at Josh!
It smashed him square in the nose with a loud crack and knocked him out before ricocheting away under the bush. With everyone looking up at the planes, no one but me—not even Josh—had seen the ball hit. As the jets sped away, the crowd’s attention returned to the big fight. What they saw was Josh knocked out cold, sprawled at my feet with a bloody nose. Suddenly all eyes were on me. Then someone yelled, “Wow, the new kid knocked out Josh! He did it. Someone finally decked Josh!”