Following Presidents’ break, Mrs. Lutzkraut never mentioned the chocolates or the fact that we wore jeans under our robes. All she said was that the faculty had complimented the show, and then she dropped the subject. I figured she was embarrassed about her feeding frenzy and wanted to move on.
And we did. In no time at all we were right back to our normal, boring classroom routine. It gave me plenty of time to worry about the Ronbonis’ trip, but at least everything in Ohio was pretty much business as usual for the next few weeks—until I began to notice little things that bothered me.
For instance, there was one day in early March when it was warm enough for us to go outside for recess. I was playing basketball and chased down a loose ball. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Josh shoving some kid around on the field. I pretended not to notice. Later that week everyone was talking about Josh cornering a kid in the hallway and demanding his lunch money. Suddenly my chicken sense kicked in. Things were changing. Josh was back to his bullying self. Not when I was around, but he was starting to feel comfortable, and that could only spell trouble for me.
Trouble came knocking two days later. I was home lying on the couch. That morning I had woken up with a stomachache—after worrying about Josh and Rocco all night—and convinced my mom to let me stay home. Besides, a day on the couch was a lot better than even a few minutes with Mrs. Lutzkraut. That is, until there was a knock on the door at around four thirty. My mom answered it.
“Hi, Mrs. Rathbone. Can we see Rodney?” It was Rishi’s voice.
“Rishi, Rodney’s been sick, maybe tomor—”
“Mrs. Rathbone, thanks for letting us in. It’s really important.” My mom just sighed and walked away as my three friends barged into the living room. “You feeling better, Rodney?”
“A little.” The truth is that my stomachache had disappeared as soon as my mom had said I could stay home.
“That’s good, ’cause we need you back at school,” Rishi went on.
“Why, does Mrs. Lutzkraut miss me?” I joked.
“No, Josh is acting up really bad,” Rishi answered seriously.
Just then my father came in from work. “Who’s acting up?” he asked, taking off his coat.
“This bully, Josh. Today he even took our back seats on the bus.”
“Yeah, and he called me Flabio,” Slim whined.
My father asked, “Rodney, isn’t Josh the kid you knocked out on the first day of school?”
“That’s the one,” Rishi answered for me. My stomachache was returning.
“So, you coming back tomorrow?” Rishi continued.
“Well, this stomach of mine is . . .”
“Better,” my dad interrupted. “He’ll be on the bus tomorrow. If there’s one thing my son isn’t, it’s a coward.”
“You got that right, Mr. Rathbone,” Dave agreed. “I don’t know where we’d be without him.”
I just groaned and rolled over.
The next day my friends made me join them in the back of the bus. When Josh climbed aboard, Rishi was waiting for him. “Where you sitting today?”
Josh glared back at him, but he noticed me sitting there, and while I tried hard not to pull the emergency latch and jump out the back door, he eventually sat down in the middle.
“That’s what I thought!” Rishi yelled.
Great. Josh was already getting itchy. The last thing I needed was Rishi egging him on. My brain was entering crisis mode and it wasn’t long before the rest of my body followed.
By the time I got into class, my stomach was rumbling pretty bad. Cramps tightened my lower stomach. I could feel gurgling and pressure building. It was all I could do to keep from farting. I sat there sweating and clenching and praying nothing sneaked out. To fart in class would lead to weeks, no months, maybe even years of jokes. The one math equation I did understand was that
a fart = funny
but not for the person who lets one slip.
With each passing thought of Josh beating my face to a pulp, the chance of me passing gas increased.
Mrs. Lutzkraut didn’t let us use the restroom. She told us that there was time before school, during lunch, and after school. Emergencies, according to her, were the result of bad planning, and therefore didn’t really exist in her mind. Art was coming up, so I bit down on my pencil eraser and held on.
The walk to art was difficult. Rishi whispered, “What’s the matter with your legs?” I must have been walking funny.
“Nothing,” I muttered through clenched teeth.
We filed into art class and while everyone else went to sit down, I went straight up to Mr. Borus. “Can I go to the bathroom?”
“May I go to the bathroom?” I said correctly.
“Yes, you may,” he answered. I zoomed out of the room and did some sort of speed duckwalk to the bathroom. I passed the sinks and urinals, went to the last of the three stalls, locked the door, and was about to unbutton my pants when I heard the boys’ room door smash open. Two voices made me temporarily forget my bathroom woes. Toby was speaking and Josh was grunting.
I felt uneasy, to say the least. Despite his leaving me alone, Josh was still big and seemed to hate me with his whole heart. Hearing Toby spitting out my name made a scary situation considerably worse.
“I’m telling you, Josh, Rodney’s nothing.” I caught my breath. I probably could have walked out past them, given them a mean look, and been out of there, but I froze and stood quiet.
“You keep saying that, but I don’t seeing you doing anything,” Josh bitterly reminded Toby.
“I’ve tried everything! I got him to go into the McThuggs’ yard, I got . . .”
Josh interrupted him. “Yeah, Tobe, I was there for most of it. How did all those things turn out? I seem to remember the McThuggs running away from him. He hung out in Old Man Johnson’s for like an hour and who knows what he did to Mrs. Lutzkraut that day of the play! You said you had him with those dumb tights. . . .”
Toby responded, “I did. It was all set. Yellow tights, my dad recording it, how was I . . .”
“If he’s nothing, then how’s he doing all this stuff?” Josh finally asked. I was curious too. All my attention was on their words and I had forgotten about my other issues.
Toby said, “I mean, he’s not tough. He’s smart. He seems to be able . . .”
“Not tough! Are you saying I’m not tough?” I heard some shuffling and what sounded like a choking sound.
“Nouunnnnnhh no yaaaarr,” Toby tried to speak, but something, or someone, was making it difficult. Finally after some coughs and sniffs he wheezed, “Man, you didn’t have to do that. You’re the toughest here. That’s my point! Gosh!”
Josh grunted and said, “For not being tough, he managed to break my nose and knock me out, remember?” As he said “remember” it sounded like he shoved Toby into the wall. “I had a headache for a month,” he continued. “I’m not getting hit like that again. Maybe you should try to fight him if you’re so confident.” There was a long silence. “That’s what I thought.”
In listening to their conversation I had forgotten that another part of me had something big to say, and when it came out it would be no silent squeaker. It would be a big blast. I knew I was caught but jumped up onto the toilet to hide my legs.
“Who’s in here?” Josh screamed. I didn’t say anything, convinced that I was finally done for. When they caught me in the stall hiding, they’d know Toby had been right, that I wasn’t a tough guy. What tough guy hid in a bathroom stall?
“Who’s in here?” Josh demanded a second time. “Toby, look under there!” Fear had me like a vise. Almost in a trance I stopped breathing and looked at the graffiti and boogers on the back of the door and held my breath.
“There’s no legs,” Toby told Josh.
“Kick the doors open!” Josh yelled. Toby must have paused, for Josh continued, “Out of my way. I’ll do it!” Just then I heard the first of the three stalls slam open hard. The whole frame seemed to shake and some plaster fell from the ceiling onto my hair.
“I’ll do the next one!” Toby sniped. They were at the second stall. Soon they’d be up to mine, and I’d be done for. I heard the kick but it seemed as if the door hadn’t opened at all.
“Nice kick, girly.”
“Well,” Toby whined defensively, “I think it’s locked.”
“Oh, is it? Then I’ll kick that lock right off.” A deafening explosion shook the bathroom. The door of the stall next to mine practically flew off its hinges. “Looky, looky. Well it seems this little kid’s been listening to us. You been listenin’?”
“Ahh,” a little scared voice squeaked.
“That’s what I thought. What should we do with this little spy, Toby?”
“The toilet’s right there,” Toby suggested.
“You know, Tobe, I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Josh answered.
At this point the kid, whoever he was, started crying and made a break for it. I heard him trip and fall flat to the floor but he was up in an instant and out the door. Josh and Toby were cracking up.
“Hey look!” Toby laughed. “Diarrhea of a wimpy kid.” That got them laughing even harder.
“Just like old times,” Toby said as the laughs dwindled.
“Good times,” Josh answered.
“Times that could come again, if only someone was taken care of,” Toby said, getting more serious.
“You’re back to that now, Toby?”
“Josh, if I can prove that Rodney isn’t all that tough, will you pound him? Just think about how good we had it before.”
There was a long pause, but finally Josh replied, “Toby, if you can somehow prove that, well, there’s no one I’d rather hurt than Rodney Rathbone. It’d be a dream come true.” They were both quiet for a minute. Then Josh added, “I’d better get back to class.”
“Oh man, Mr. Borus is waitin’ for me, too. Let’s go.” After a minute the door slammed shut, leaving me in silence. It wasn’t silent for long, however. With an explosion that almost shook the tiles off the walls, I finally did what I had come in there for.