Usually, Will took the bus to school so he could get an extra fifteen minutes of sleep, but today he rode in with Mom and Hollie. Simon went to school early for cribbage club, so he’d be there to give Will the lowdown before he had to deal with anyone else.
The ride in was dark and gray. Clouds hung so heavy, the sun would have a fight to rise. Diesel fumes tainted the air. Will told himself that that was why his stomach was queasy.
But walking into the redbrick blocks of school, he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t worried. The diesel should have ruined his nose for at least a few minutes, but he swore he still smelled stinkbug. Will stopped abruptly and turned around in front of Hollie, basically making her bump into him. “Do I smell?”
Hollie nudged him back with one fingertip on his chest. “Always.”
“Hollie,” Will groaned.
“You’re a boy. It’s basically your job to stink.”
“Yes, I am.” Hollie laughed.
Will stomped ahead, but they were going to the same place, and Hollie was taller, so she kept pace while hardly trying.
She caught Will’s arm and turned him around in front of her again. “Honestly. You’re fine. I wouldn’t let you come to school stinky.”
Will could tell she meant it, which helped a little, but then he faced the hallway again. The school colors of gray and maroon were great when facing an opponent, but right now he felt like the opponent. The floor was light gray, and the cinder-block walls were cream-colored. But beneath the fluorescent lights the glossy painted lockers gleamed bloodred like a fresh cut.
When Hollie patted his shoulder, he flinched.
“I won’t pretend today’s not going to be bad,” she said. “But eventually this will be a funny story you tell.”
Though she didn’t get that it was already a funny story for other people to tell, it was kind of nice of her to try to encourage him. Her sincerity triggered a knee-jerk reaction to make a joke at her expense so they could stop with all the feelings stuff, but he held it in, mumbling only, “Thanks.”
She grinned as if she knew exactly what was going on inside his head, and patted his cheek before he could duck away. “Good luck, baby brother.”
“Thanks, old lady.”
She flipped her shiny brown ponytail at him as she walked away. Even when she didn’t get the last word, it seemed as if she did.
Will took a deep breath, noticing he could because his chest wasn’t so tight. Until Simon crashed into the locker next to Will and gave him a heart attack.
“What the heck?”
“Your parents took your phone?” Simon panted.
“Yeah. I guess it’s really bad?” Simon’s dramatics were certainly not a good sign.
“Are you kidding? It’s awesome!” Simon slung an arm across Will’s shoulders the way wrestling coaches sometimes did when they discussed strategy before a match. “It’s like a fart. You can’t talk about it if you haven’t smelled it. Everyone went out of their way to smell it.”
“That’s not awesome,” Will groaned. He knew. He’d smelled like stinkbug all day and night.
“How can you be twelve and not understand how the social system works?” Simon asked with exaggerated despair.
He was so over the top, Will almost laughed. But people were beginning to trickle in and look at him funny. “I get that I’m going to be the stinky kid and a social outcast.”
Simon slapped his knee in exaggerated hilarity.
Seriously? He was supposed to be Will’s friend, but some-times he was so busy laughing, he forgot the friend part.
“Is Darryl ticked?” Will asked, partly to stop Simon’s laughter and mostly because Darryl’s bus would get there soon.
“I mean, yeah,” Simon admitted. “You kind of showed him up with the whole stinkbug thing, and everyone’s talking about it.”
Will sighed. He hadn’t meant to, like, embarrass Darryl. Darryl could be kind of tough sometimes, but that’s what made him a good friend. Simon was in cribbage club, for Pete’s sake. Darryl had a compound bow and had taught both Will and Simon how to use it, which was supercool for fun, but Darryl actually hunted with it and had shot a deer before. The three of them had always kind of balanced one another out.
“I said something to him, too,” Simon said.
“What do you mean?”
Simon shrugged. “About it not being cool. What he said to the new kid.”
Will’s eyebrows could have shot up off his head. It had never occurred to him to just say something to Darryl. He’d been so mad, and, come on, it wasn’t like they ever talked about feelings. But before Will could ask Simon how that went, someone cleared his throat. Will turned as Eloy said, “Hi.”
“What are you doing here?” Will didn’t mean it to sound mean. It was more that he was startled, since they’d practically just been talking about him. Though none of this would have happened if Eloy hadn’t talked to him in the library—or if Will had simply kept his mouth shut.
“His ears were buzzing.” Simon thumped Will’s arm. “Get it? I said ‘buzzing’ instead of ‘burning.’”
Will and Eloy rolled their eyes at the same time, almost as if they’d planned it. Or were friends.
Will sighed. “So, do I have to become an evil genius now?”
“Nope,” Simon said. “You’re Bug Boy.”
“What?!”
“I had to think on my feet!”
“I get the feeling that’s never a good idea,” Eloy said.
Will snorted before he caught himself. That was a decent burn.
“At one point I heard someone say ‘Stink Man,’” Eloy added. “Bug Boy’s probably better.”
“See?” Simon raised his arms in triumph. “My brains saved the day.”
“Your brilliance knows no bounds,” Eloy deadpanned.
Simon grinned and strutted in a circle.
Will was confused. Simon seemed to think being Bug Boy was a good thing, which Eloy seemed to confirm. And those people who were looking at him funny started to give him head nods and thumbs-up. Then someone yelled, “You having French flies for lunch?”
Without missing a beat, Simon called back, “Naw, Bug Boy’s having maggot-aroni and fleas.”
“No, he should have a bee-rito,” someone else said.
People laughed, and others shook their heads at the antics but smiled, too.
“Omigosh,” Will said. “Is this what people did all day yesterday?”
“Pretty much,” Eloy said.
“I spent all night thinking up bug-food names,” Simon said. “Fried lice, flea loaf, pot roach, wasples—”
“Wait, what?” Will said.
“Like waffles, but with wasps.”
That wasn’t actually what Will meant. His head felt floaty, and his ears rang.
He had been worried about getting teased and called names, and that was definitely happening, but not in the way he’d thought.
Will looked at Simon and Eloy, both telling him that things were all right.
He did the only thing he could: He grabbed Simon in a headlock and dragged him to the ground while Simon dramatically played the wounded hero.
Eloy watched them for a few seconds, then said, “You know, some men just hug each other.”
Both Will and Simon froze, blinking at him. “What, like, in Mexico?” Will asked.
Eloy rolled his eyes. “Anywhere, idiot.”
Will looked down at Simon’s head under his arm, then tightened his fake hold. “Well, this is Minnesota. You want to get in a few kicks or not?”
Eloy pretended to kick Simon a few times until Mrs. Olsen shouted at them to keep it down.
Then Darryl arrived.