WHO’S THE SNITCH?
Kelly had used her finger to write the words on the back window. It had been pouring all day. The inside of the bus felt muggy, and the windows were misted over.
I headed to the middle. The guys at the back were ignoring me—and I’d turned down Sandeep’s offer to sit with him. He didn’t understand that just because I’d stood up for him didn’t mean I wanted to be his best friend.
But when Valerie patted the empty spot next to her, I’d taken it. As I peeled off my windbreaker, I caught a whiff of her shampoo. It smelled like apples. There might be some advantages, I thought, to standing up for what you believed in.
It was the same seat I’d taken when I first rode the 121 Express. Of course, a lot had changed since then. For one thing, I’d made friends—and for another, I’d lost them.
Kelly was still busy writing on the window. She was working on a list of suspects. Jewel’s name was first; Sandeep’s was second.
Jewel threw her hands up in the air. “Why do I get blamed for everything?” The funny thing was she didn’t sound upset. Maybe Jewel was the snitch—or maybe she just liked the attention.
Sandeep didn’t lift his eyes from his physics textbook.
“Put Lucas’s name up there too!” Pierre called out.
I felt my heart bump in my chest. I didn’t like how Pierre and the others were ignoring me, but accusing me of being the snitch was worse. Way worse.
Kelly didn’t turn around. Her fingertip was pressed against the glass—poised to write. “Lucas can’t be the snitch,” she said. “He’s one of the guys who got turned in. Remember?”
“You never know...” When Pierre raised his voice I knew he wanted me to hear him. “Maybe he had it all planned out. Maybe Lucas isn’t as dumb as he looks. what was it Mr. Adams called him?”
“Brainiac!” Jake shouted.
“Yeah, Brainiac might have masterminded the whole thing.”
I thought about taking out a textbook and hiding behind it—like Sandeep. My cover was blown. Now everyone would know about the Brainiac thing.
In the end, it was Valerie who rescued me. “Take a look at this picture I found of Mahatma Gandhi,” she said. When she leaned in to show me the picture, the top of her head touched the side of my arm. There was something about the color of her hair that made me forget—for a few seconds, anyhow—how lousy I was feeling.
But then Pierre’s soccer ball came flying through the air and hit the side of my head. Instead of complaining, I used my palm to send the ball back to Pierre.
“Are those Mentos?” I heard Georgie call out.
“You hate Mentos, Georgie,” Kelly said.
“I need them for a...a science experiment is all.”
Jake laughed. “A science experiment? Who do you think you are? Raghead? Or the Brainiac?”
Everyone turned to see what Georgie was up to—even Sandeep put down his book. I turned to look too.
Georgie had a small bottle of Diet Coke in his hands. He opened it up and handed Jake the plastic bottle cap. “Hey, do me a favor and make a hole in the cap. Now, okay?”
“Hey, do I look like your lab assistant?” Jake said, but he used his pen to puncture the cap and gave it back to Georgie.
Georgie slid something inside the bottle— it must have been one of those Mentos—and screwed the cap back on. He put his thumb over the hole in the cap, and then he shook the bottle up and down—hard. He made a hooting sound when he released his thumb.
Pow! The bottle flew out of Georgie’s hands like a rocket and zoomed across the aisle. It hit a window, ricocheted off of it, and then crashed to the floor. There was Diet Coke everywhere—on the windows, on kids’ clothes and backpacks and even dribbling down Georgie’s face.
“Gross! It’s so sticky!” voices screamed.
Everyone was laughing, especially Georgie.
I tried not to laugh, but it was hard.
“Hey, Georgie, you should be a science teacher!” Kelly called out.
Georgie was laughing so hard that he started to cough. He covered his mouth and tried taking a few breaths, but the coughing wouldn’t stop.
“Hey, raghead!” Jake called out. “Have you got a paper bag we can borrow?”
That made everyone laugh all over again.
When I turned to look at Sandeep, I expected him to be hiding behind his book, but he wasn’t. He was watching Georgie.
Georgie’s cheeks were apple red. When he started to wheeze, Sandeep sprang up from his seat and pushed his way over to the back of the bus.
“Open the windows!” he shouted.
Maybe because no one was used to seeing Sandeep like this—rushing around and telling other people what to do—they opened the windows.
“His lips are turning blue!” Kelly sounded as if she was about to cry.
Sandeep was hunched over Georgie. “I think his bronchial tubes are blocked with mucus. Here,” he said, reaching behind Georgie’s back, “try to sit up straight.”
Then Sandeep lifted his head. “Has anyone here got a puffer?” he shouted.
“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to share medications?” Jewel said.
You’d think that with fifty kids on the121 Express, someone would have asthma medication. But no one did. I bit my lip.
“Georgie doesn’t have asthma,” Kelly told Sandeep.
“I’m pretty sure he does. And it’s getting worse.”
Georgie was having trouble sitting up, and when he tried to say something, he nearly gagged.
“What do we do?” Kelly shouted.
“Lucas,” Sandeep said, “talk to the bus driver. Tell him he’s got to take us to the hospital—now!”
I bolted over to the driver. “You have to take us to the hospital. This guy at the back’s having an asthma attack,” I told him.
“This is another one of your games, right?” the driver muttered.
“This isn’t a game. It’s an emergency. And you’ve got to help us. Please.”
When the driver took his first left instead of driving straight along Côte-Vertu Boulevard, I made a loud sigh. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath.