I was still moping about when my mom called me to dinner that evening. I sat looking at my plate of lasagna. Normally I would have inhaled it, but tonight I just flicked my fork between the layers and pushed the ricotta cheese around the plate. “Are you feeling okay?” my mom asked.
“Yeah, I guess. Well, not really.” My mom put down her fork and felt my forehead. “I’m not sick, Mom. I just had a bad day. Can I go to private school?”
“No, too expensive,” my dad commented, his mouth half full. He broke off a piece of bread and wiped his plate clean. Sometimes he ate faster than a dog.
“What happened today?” my mom asked. My sister was watching me now and even my dad looked concerned . . . until I realized he was eyeing my lasagna.
“It’s a long story, but if I come home tomorrow missing a few teeth, don’t be surprised.” I felt my eyes start to get a little watery. It was both torturous and a relief to be talking about my problems with someone other than a weird old guy in a haunted house.
“I thought you took care of that problem,” my dad said.
“I guess my good luck ran out. I’m dead tomorrow.” I glanced around the table. My mom looked concerned, my dad scratched his chin thinking, and Penny was smiling widely.
“No, you’re not!” my mom insisted. “I’m calling the school first thing in the morning. Mrs. Lutzkraut will . . .”
“Hold on, there,” my dad chimed in. “That won’t solve anything. It’ll just make matters worse.”
“Donald, I’m not going to let some school ruffians hurt my darling angel. I . . .”
“Princess, will let me handle this. No boy wants his mom calling the school. Am I right, Rodney?”
“Uh, well . . .”
“You see, dear. Besides, Rodney has nothing to worry about. I have a surefire plan. Now, if you’re done,” he announced, reaching for my plate, “you can leave the table.”
“Donald Rathbone!” my mother snapped, grabbing the plate in midair and returning it to my place. “I hope your great scheme works better than your attempt to steal Rodney’s dinner.”
A little later I joined my dad in the den. My sister hovered by the door, eager to see what was going to happen. I was curious too. “Hit me in the stomach,” my dad began.
“What?”
“Hit me in the stomach. Throw your best punch.”
Great, I thought. Here comes that lasagna dinner he just wolfed down. I made a fist anyway.
“No, no. Let me see that hand.” My dad took my fist and examined it. “The only thing you’re going to break with that is your thumb. Keep your thumb on the outside of your knuckles.” As he spoke, he positioned my thumb where he wanted it. “There. That’s better.”
“Now, the next thing is knowing where to punch. You proved you know how to hit someone in the nose, but it’s not always easy to punch someone’s face, particularly if he’s bigger than you. It can be hard to reach. It’s better to hit the body. Do you know where to aim?”
“The stomach?”
“No, there’s somewhere better.”
“I thought you weren’t allowed to punch someone there. . . .”
“Not there,” my dad continued. “Look, see this doll?” He grabbed one of Penny’s dolls with his left hand and held it up by the neck. “See the middle of the chest? That’s the solar plexus. A good hit there will put anyone down. Knock the wind right out of them. Watch closely. Pow!” And with that he punched the doll in the gut, sending the body flying halfway across the room. The doll’s head, still in my dad’s grip, stared straight ahead.
“Kiiiiittttttttttt!” Penny shrieked. “Mommy, Mommy! Daddy killed my American Girl doll!” My father dropped Kit’s head as my mom entered the den.
“Sorry, dear, I got carried away,” he explained.
“I don’t like this whole thing. Teaching Rodney how to fight . . .”
“Sweetie, this is self-defense, it’s like that Pilates stuff you do down at the gym. . . .”
“Pilates has nothing to do with . . .”
“Honey, we’re almost done. Oh, and one more thing. Rodney and I are going to watch Rocky III tonight if you want to join us.” My mom just groaned as she grabbed my crying sister and left the room.
As we sat there watching the movie, my dad and I practiced sparring. He had me throwing punch combinations while repeating different fight-inspired expressions. “Pop, pop, bang. No pain, no gain. ‘Eye of the Tiger’!” By the time Rocky and Apollo Creed were training to beat ‘Clubber’ Lang, I almost felt ready to fight Josh. The movie ended and my dad said, “In the first movie, Rocky had to chase a chicken around. I wonder where I could get a live chicken. . . .”
Even though I was tired from staying up late, I couldn’t sleep that night. I kept making a fist and throwing jabs at the ceiling, wondering if I really had what it takes.
I awoke in a somber mood that didn’t fade as the day wore on. I didn’t laugh at my friends’ jokes on the bus, and when Josh climbed aboard and started to make a face at me, I didn’t flinch. I was ready. I kept my eyes locked on his and for a fleeting second his face looked a little less confident. Then his eyes hardened again. We both knew it was on.
I didn’t say a word in class. I squeezed my fists, visualizing the upcoming showdown. Not once did I look at Jessica. I didn’t eat my ham sandwich at lunch. I looked ahead, concentrating on uppercuts and jabs. If Rishi, Slim, and Dave noticed my mood they didn’t say anything; or maybe they did and I didn’t notice.
Eventually the whistle blew and we stood to go outside. Almost through a fog, I could hear Long Nose screaming at some kids to clean up their table. I shuffled along with the rest of the students toward the door and before I knew it I was out in the fresh air. I breathed in deeply. My head seemed to clear. I noticed all my surroundings and the faces of other students. My awareness was heightened and everything became sharpened. And more than anything else, my brain screamed, Get the heck out of here!
The old panic was setting in. “Eye of the Tiger”? All I wanted to do was run like a chicken. I kept my head down and moved closer toward the aides, where Long Nose stood ranting about student behavior. I figured maybe I’d be safe near them. Seeing me, she snapped, “What do you want?”
“I, uh, I was just, uh . . .” I stammered.
“Well you can just ‘uh’ somewhere else. Go on, get going.” She stared at me until I moved away. No help from the adults. I headed toward some trees where I could possibly hide for a while. As I crossed the basketball court, my friends caught up with me. “Where you going?” Slim asked. “We’ve been looking all over for you. Do you want to play basketball or kickball?”
“Looks like he wants to play Hide-and-Seek.”
Too late. I was found. Toby stood there smiling as Josh approached from the far end of the court like a shark that smelled blood. My blood.
I didn’t run. My dad’s boxing quotes from last night raced through my mind: No pain, no gain. Stay off the ropes. Stick and move. Duck and weave. Float like a butterfly and sting like a bee. I realized I had no clue what any of them meant, and my knees started to wobble. Toby was smiling, anticipating the moment he’d been dreaming about the whole school year. Josh, on the other hand, didn’t smile. He looked perfectly evil. His eyes were dark and determined, his fists ready to pulverize some meat.
My friends shifted behind me. Rishi nodded and said, “Looks like it’s time you gave those two punks another lesson.”
Yes, on how to run, I thought.
“All right, Rathbone, time for you to taste my knuckles.” Josh loomed right before me, glaring.
“Yeah and . . .” Toby began to chime in, but Josh interrupted him.
“No more talk, Toby! Time to die, Rathbone.” At that, his body charged, meeting mine. I would have been knocked down like a palm tree in a hurricane but I fell back into Slim’s belly and bounced forward into Josh’s chest, my clenched fist connecting with his solar panel, or whatever my dad had called it. I could hear a hollow thud and Josh wheezed, startled. My friends erupted into howls, until a piercing scream rang out louder than all of them. Louder than anything I’d ever heard before. We all turned and saw it was coming from Long Nose, who was clutching her head as a basketball slowly bounced to a stop in back of her.
The entire playground was silent, except for Long Nose. Josh had lowered his fists and was watching the scene like the rest of us. Long Nose held the back of her head in her hands, moaning and cursing. Her eyes were teary and red. The other aides huddled around, touching her shoulders and hair. Suddenly she flung their hands off and stormed toward the court.
Most of the kids slunk away, except for Jessica and Greg, who stood there in shock. One of them had thrown the ball, I realized. Long Nose must have assumed the same thing, for she headed their way. I also paid attention to Josh. He was still absorbed in the drama.
“Who threw the basketball?” Long Nose demanded. Greg was closest to her and tried to back away. “You, tan boy. Did you throw it at me?”
“No,” Greg nervously squeaked.
He was stumbling, beginning to panic. I knew all the signs intimately.
“Tell me who?” Long Nose screamed at him. He jerked his head at Jessica.
Long Nose swung toward her with a face contorted by rage. It looked like she might grab Jessica and shake her. “So it was you, my little pretty! You threw it at me?” Jessica’s lips were quivering and she was unable to utter a sound.
“Speak up!” Long Nose screamed into Jessica’s face.
“I threw it!” I shouted, seeing a way to escape Josh’s beating.
“Now you’re going to get it,” Rishi whispered.
Long Nose wheeled my way. “Rodney! I should have known. You are nothing but trouble. With a capital T! You are going to wish you never came to this school. We’re going straight to Mr. Feebletop and I’ll make sure you never see recess again. Expulsion is too good for you. I will personally see that your time at Baber is a living . . .”
Still ranting like a lunatic, she gave my shoulder a not-so-tender squeeze and off we went. She continued ranting through all the halls until we arrived at Mr. Feebletop’s office, where she barged right in, me in tow.
Mr. Feebletop looked up from his turkey sandwich. He reached back, turned off what sounded like sports talk radio, chewed the bite in his mouth, and looked questioningly at Long Nose. She exhaled and in an upset tone asked, “Mr. Feebletop, do you know what this boy did today at recess?”
Mr. Feebletop glanced at me for the first time. He practically spit out his bite. “Rodney, did you hear who the Mets got?” Before I could answer, I felt Long Nose’s fingertips dig deeper into my shoulder. Mr. Feebletop must have also felt her silent, annoyed presence, for he collected himself and asked, “Mrs. Whiner, please explain to me what happened.”
Mrs. Whiner? It had never occurred to me that Long Nose had a real name.
She let go of my shoulder and brought her hand to her chest. “Well, this boy threw a basketball and it hit me in the back of the head. It almost knocked me out. I have quite a headache.” She was laying it on thick.
Mr. Feebletop grunted, then looked at me. “Rodney, you know a basketball is a very heavy ball. Did you mean to throw it?”
“No, Mr. Feebletop. I think I was fouled as I took a shot.” I had expected him to ask this.
“Did you, or any of the other aides, see the shot?” Mr. Feebletop asked Long Nose.
“Well, no, but, well, it sure hurt.”
Mr. Feebletop looked down at his sandwich and thought for a moment. I wasn’t sure if he was thinking about what to do with me or whether to take another bite. Finally he leaned back. “It certainly sounds like an accident, so I think what we’ll do is . . . hmm . . . yes, I know. Rodney, no basketball for a week.”
Long Nose looked like a kettle about to blow. I cringed in anticipation. “Mr. Feebletop! This boy assaulted me. I don’t think you understand the pain he caused me. I think his punishment should be significant. He’s a danger to everyone.”
Mr. Feebletop looked back at his sandwich. It didn’t seem to provide him much comfort, for he sighed and replied, “I understand that you are in pain. Go see the nurse right after you leave. I’ll tell you what. I’ll have Rodney spend recess tomorrow here in the office, but Thursday he can go back outside, and no basketball for the month, Rodney. I think that’s a logical and fair solu—”
Long Nose interrupted. “I don’t think you understand. Either he receives a punishment that befits such a horrid act, or I quit!” She swept her hand across her body in a dramatic gesture of good-bye. It was her greatest mistake. Her hand clipped the top of Mr. Feebletop’s prize Tom Seaver baseball, causing it to shoot past the principal’s grasp and bounce once on his desk before landing in the garbage pail. Mr. Feebletop jumped up and peered in. “Tom!”
I craned my neck to see around the side of the desk as he retrieved it. Coffee and coffee grinds covered the baseball. He tried frantically to blot it with a napkin, but it was too late. The signature was already smeared. For a few seconds he looked at it with a forlorn expression. Then the sadness in his face left and was replaced by a quiet seriousness I’d never seen in him before. He looked at me and said, “Rodney, you can return to recess. We will finish discussing this later.”
I got up out of my chair and left his office. I saw that the secretaries weren’t there, and my curiosity got the better of me. Acting like my little snoop of a sister, I lingered by the door and listened in.
Mr. Feebletop cleared his throat. “I accept your resignation.”
“What?” she screamed.
“A moment ago you said you were planning to quit, so you can go now,” he added. I was in shock.
Long Nose sounded like she was hyperventilating. She seemed on the verge of screaming or crying and wound up doing both. I figured it was time to leave before she stormed out of the office. The last thing I heard was Mr. Feebletop mutter, “He signed it on my birthday, too.”
The other aides were lining up the students to go back in when I returned to recess. My smiling face brought a lot of attention and excitement. It was as if a wave swept through the grade. I saw right away that Rishi, Slim, Dave, Jessica, Kayla, Josh, Toby, and maybe thirty others were waiting to see what had happened. They started to approach me.
My return, however, was immediately interrupted and overshadowed by Long Nose, who burst through the door and came running outside with her arms swinging over her head. She was still teary and frantic. Seeing me, she flinched and uttered a strange, crazy sound like a cat whose tail has just gotten crunched by a rocking chair. “Ohaahaaaahah! I will get you for this, Rodney!” Still yelling and waving her hands around, she ran to the parking lot and stumbled. One of her high heels fell off and for a second she tried to put it back on but was too hysterical. Instead she threw it at us, screaming, “Rotten kids!” She jumped into her red car, gunned it, and with tires screeching zoomed out of our lives.
The whole crowd stood in astonishment, students and aides alike. Josh was staring at me with a questioning look on his face. That’s when I saw Toby shove him in the shoulder and say, “Get him.” Josh whirled around, flattened Toby with a hard shove, and stomped off to his teacher’s line. Apparently, the Long Nose mystery was enough to convince Josh that my powers weren’t something to mess with. I wasn’t sure how long Josh would be off my back, but for now I had escaped! Again!
Rishi was the first to come up to me. “I don’t know how you do it, but you’re brilliant. Jessica’s been crying for you for twenty minutes, plus you got rid of Long Nose. Are you like some superhero or something? Do you have mind-control powers? Hey, if you do, can you get Lutzkraut to give me an A in math?” I laughed and he was already pretending to be a version of me with superpowers. “Slim, with my mind-control powers, I demand you kiss Mrs. Lutzkraut.”
He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers at Slim, who scrunched up his lips and said, “Mmmm, Lutzkraut, pretty.” He did his best zombie imitation.
I may have joined in the goofing around, but through the crowd I noticed someone looking at me with full interest. As students wandered over to listen to Rishi’s goofs, Jessica came up to me and asked, “Rodney, how could you be so noble?” I think she wanted to say a lot more, but Greg had come over to join us.
“Uh, Jessica,” he began. Before he could say another word Kayla was all over him.
“Way to go, Robin Hood. Nice way to protect your princess!” She continued hammering Greg, who eventually muttered something about needing to get back in line. Jessica looked at me and was about to open her mouth when we were interrupted again. Mrs. Lutzkraut had appeared to take us back to class.
“Jessica and Rodney, in line. Rishi and Kayla, zip it. Toby, brush off your pants. And Timothy, stop scrunching your lips at me.” Recess was definitely over, but I didn’t care. I was floating the rest of the day.