SOMETIMES, LIFE HAS A WAY OF WAYLAYING THINGS. I WAS SITTING there under the picnic table, waiting for my name to be called, about to eat the last, best sprinkly cookie, when suddenly two sets of feet were scratching at the dust and life went from perfect to perfectly rotten in thirty seconds flat.
“If it ain’t little Gabriel King.”
It was Duke Evans, the biggest, meanest, most rotten fifth-grader ever. Only he was about to become a sixth-grader with a certificate to prove it, and as Frita said, that made him certifiably worse.
“What grade you going into next year? Kindergarten?” That was Frankie Carmen—Duke’s best buddy.
“Nah,” Duke said. “He’s going to be with us next year. Ain’t that right, Gabe?”
I started to sweat and it wasn’t ’cause of the heat. I looked for the perfect hole to slip through so I could run and get Frita or my pop, but Duke stuck his head under the table and smiled at me upside down. He had hair like yellow straw, beady brown eyes, and two missing front teeth from fighting. When he smiled, it was like being smiled at by a crazy scarecrow on Halloween.
“Lisa Lawrence, Ann Marie Kudrow, Gabriel King…”
In the distance I heard Ms. Murray calling my name so I tried to crawl out, but I didn’t get very far.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Nowhere,” I said, but my voice cracked.
“Did we tell you to talk?”
“No. I mean, yes. I mean…I got to line up. Maybe we better get back.”
“Did you just tell us what to do?” Duke snarled.
I answered so quick, I choked on my spit. “No. Nope.”
“Seems to me,” Duke said, “you used to carry our lunch trays…”
“And clean up our stuff after gym class…”
“And don’t forget how much you loved giving us those snacks your momma packed for you. In fact, I think you want to give me that snack right there.”
Duke grabbed the sprinkly cookie from my hand. I’d forgotten I was holding it, and it was all smooshed up from me clutching it so tight, but Duke chomped it down quicker than a hungry mutt with a steak. Duke was always hungry.
“You can have all my snacks,” I said, real quick. “I’ll get you more after the ceremony too. Promise. Only I better go because they’re playing the starting music and my momma and pop will be waiting. I’ve got to clap for Frita, and…”
Soon as those words were out of my mouth, I wished I could stuff ’em back in. Right away Duke got that look in his eye. He stuck one finger into my chest real hard.
“You can go when I say so,” he growled. “And I don’t say so, because no one’s going to clap for Frita Wilson if I can help it.”
If Frita were here, Duke wouldn’t have had the guts to say that. I should have made a run for it only I was too scared, and before I knew it, Frankie grabbed my arms and Duke grabbed my feet. Then Frankie pulled my arms out of my shirtsleeves, yanked the sleeves behind me, and tied them in a knot so tight I couldn’t move a muscle.
“Let’s see you try to clap for your girlfriend now,” he said, leaning in until his face was right next to mine. He laughed like that was sooo funny and shoved me to the ground.
I landed on my butt in a puff of red dust.
“See you next year,” Duke said, syrupy sweet.
I sat there watching their feet get smaller and smaller.
There’s nothing worse than watching someone else’s feet run to where you ought to be.
I pulled hard at my shirtsleeves, but that knot wouldn’t budge. I thought about getting up and running over to the crowd, but the idea of it made my cheeks turn bright red with embarrassment. Plus what if Duke and Frankie were waiting for me?
I could hear the ceremony starting and everyone clapping. The principal was making his speech about what a fine year it had been at Hollowell Elementary. He called out the names for everyone to get their certificates. First the kindergarteners, then the first-, second-, and third-graders, and then he was calling out the names for my class.
“Miranda Tuttle, Frita Wilson…”
The principal called Frita’s name in the distance and I whistled and hollered loud as I could, just like I’d promised, but I knew no one could hear me.
That’s when I gave up and shuffled under the picnic table in shame. I thought of the imaginary list me and Frita had made, and in my mind I crossed off everything. This wasn’t a great day or a momentous occasion. It was the worst day. I’d broken my pinky swear to Frita. I’d never done that before. Not even once.
I thought about Duke and Frankie, and then I thought about my best friend walking across the stage, listening for my extra-loud whistle. That about killed me. If this was what the fifth grade had in store for me, I didn’t think I could stand it. There were some things in life a man could not be forced to endure, and it was looking like fifth grade was going to be one of them.