Will graduated from Bug Boy to Bug King.
Just like the last time, almost everyone thought he was cool and funny and awesome, and like the last time, Will tried to enjoy it. But the few people who were not everyone and who did not think he was cool and funny and awesome bugged him. He wondered if Eloy and Darryl even noticed they were on the same side now.
Practice was awkward, too. With Eloy mad and Will distracted, Eloy scored his first pin.
Will sprawled like a chalk-outline corpse. The mat reeked with new sweat, old sweat, feet, and yesterday’s disinfectant.
The team cheered.
Eloy’s first pin was a worthy accomplishment that deserved congratulations. Will just wished it hadn’t been at his expense—or feel so much that the guys being for Eloy meant they were against Will.
Things weren’t any better at home, either.
“Why the heck didn’t you tell us what you were up to?” Mom asked.
“I’m sure you and Eloy had fun cooking up this idea,” Dad said, “but the last time you two played with bugs, you closed down the library.”
“Did it ever occur to you that parents might be upset that you fed bugs to their kids?” Mom asked.
“And some of them are blaming Mr. Herrera,” Dad added, then winced, exchanging a look with Mom as if he hadn’t meant to let that part slip.
“Huh? Blaming him for what?” Will asked.
“He didn’t follow the school’s food policy,” Mom said.
Sometimes Will couldn’t stand how small their living room was. He looked out the front window, but the gray day turned it into another wall. He stood looking at it anyway, with his limbs dangling at weird angles, wondering how arms ever made sense just hanging off his body the way they did.
“Mr. Herrera did ask about that,” Will mumbled. “I might have told Eloy it was taken care of.”
Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “Might have?”
“You mean you lied,” Mom said.
Will slumped onto the couch. “I don’t get why anyone’s mad. They all wanted to try them. I didn’t force anybody.” What got to Will was that the presentation had been great. Not only did it go as planned, but also everyone loved it and had tried bugs, which was a good thing! No, he hadn’t spelled out every little thing to every single person he probably should have, but he’d gotten people to try something new, something that was genuinely good for the planet.
What was he was supposed to do, apologize for helping to save the world?
Mom and Dad weren’t sure what the school would do about the whole thing, but Mom said Principal Raymond would handle it. He was a pretty even-tempered guy. No one stayed mad around him for long.
The problem for Will was that Mr. Raymond didn’t do detention or suspensions unless there was serious fighting. He said that those punishments didn’t “get” him anything, preferring consequences that could provide “teachable moments.” Making students spell out exactly what they had done wrong had never seemed like a big deal—until Will had to do it. Hearing his own voice detailing his bad decisions generally made them seem even stupider.
This time, though, Will didn’t think he’d made any bad decisions except for lying about having gotten permission to bring food to class. He called Mr. Herrera to apologize for that, which was terrible, because, though Mr. Herrera was upset, it was more that he was disappointed. So Will felt extra crappy when he wrote the letter Mr. Raymond e-mailed to parents, explaining what he’d done so no one would blame Mr. Herrera, and he listed the real benefits of entomophagy, too, for the ones who were grossed out by the bug business.
Then he had to read an apology to Mr. Taylor and the class.
Darryl smirked the entire time and slow clapped afterward. He’d taken a seat in the back, by Devontae and Adam, and the claps vibrated over everyone’s heads until Mr. Taylor made him stop.
Eloy frowned but watched Will as if he were listening hard, the way he did in wrestling when he was trying to get the particulars of a rule or move. Will stopped looking at that side of the room halfway through his reading.
Eloy wasn’t right about what he’d said. Will knew how he’d meant his science presentation, and it hadn’t been to make anyone a joke or seem abnormal. The high fives he got after class as he walked down the hall proved it, didn’t they?
Back at their lockers, Simon only laughed about the whole thing and said it was worth it, not that he had to deal with any of “it.”
Will tried to get back into the zone—people still hollered “Bug Boy!” when they saw him and offered him lice cakes and sluggy joes during lunch. But it was as if his life had taken a step to the left. Instead of Will, Darryl, and Simon sitting together, it was Will, Simon, and Joshua, who asked a thousand questions about entomophagy as if he were serious about trying it. Spotting Eloy, Joshua called him over to answer more questions. Eloy sat at the farthest corner from Will and didn’t really talk to him, but they were all at the same table like they were friends. Then Megan and Mackala sat by Eloy, and even though the seats were individual stools, it felt like the girls took up more space and squished the boys together.
So he was out of it when Hollie found him later and dragged him away, startling him enough that he let her.
It was only after she hauled him around a corner that his brain caught up with events. Not only had Hollie treated him like a little kid, but she’d done it in front of his friends. And he easily could have broken her hold!
“I so want to smack you upside the head right now,” she said.
“Like that scares me. I get thrown to the mat all the time.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t if you were a better wrestler.”
He huffed, brain scrambling for a retort, but her talking now made him realize she hadn’t said anything to him yesterday or this morning. Had she been giving him the silent treatment? Remembering the cricket guts in her ponytail last week gave him his answer and reminded him of the grasshopper guts on the floor the day before.
She was all clenched up—teeth, jaw, fists, muscles. She was a little scary. Her lip gloss and pink accessories kept tricking Will into forgetting she could kick butt. The fact that she hadn’t when she clearly wanted to was probably because of the school’s strict no-fighting policy, though he wondered if it applied to brothers and sisters.
“Uh, did something happen?”
“Uh, yeah,” Hollie snapped. “You keep ruining my life.”
“Jeezitwasonlyafewbugs.” Nobody cared except the people Will cared about, which didn’t make sense at all. They were supposed to be on his side.
Hollie slumped back against the wall. “The team doesn’t want me to bake for the refreshments stand anymore.”
Like most of the sports teams, the volleyball team had a booster club that sold refreshments during home games to raise money for uniforms, equipment, and whatever. School policies about prepackaged food only applied during school hours, and home-baked goods sold better than candy and chips—and Hollie’s butterbeer cookies sold out no matter how many she made.
“I bet it was Amy.” Will gave the wall a little kick, remembering how she’d acted when Hollie had the cricket in her hair. “Why are you even friends with her?”
“This isn’t Mean Girls. She was creeped out. So were a lot of us.”
“Us?”
“I don’t even know how many times I wake up every night thinking something’s crawling on me.”
Will hadn’t known that part. He leaned against the wall next to her, wondering if he was supposed to pat her arm or something. It wasn’t like he could hug her or anything—they were at school.
“Whatever,” Hollie said, straightening. “It’s just until I can be sure the crickets are all gone and this bug stuff blows over. Kathryn’s baking the cookies until then.”
“You can’t give her the recipe!” It was like an evil volleyball plot to steal Hollie’s famous cookies.
She rolled her eyes. “I found it online. I don’t want the team to suffer because of my idiot brother.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Just tell your idiot friends not to send any more bugs to the house.”
Will huffed again, trying to think of a good comeback, but he was too slow, because for all her tough words, she walked away with her shoulders slumped—and he knew the extra weight on them was from him.