COOL KIDS’ TABLE
Hang on. The good parts of this story aren’t over yet. In fact, some of the best stuff is coming up. (And then some of the worst too. It’s kind of a roller-coaster ride from here to the end, so hold on tight.)
The next day at school, a lot of people were really nice to me. They were saying stuff like “What a touchdown!” and “Way to go, Khatchadorian.” Which was a weird feeling. Usually it was more like “What a dork!” and “Get out of the way, Khatchadorian.”
I put up some new art too. It was my drawing of The Thinker, but in honor of the Falcons, I added a little extra something this time.
That one went right on the trophy case. And here’s a shocker for you: Mrs. Stricker walked right by it and let it stay up for a while. Which made it a pretty good day for SAM and for Rafe.
In English, Quinn Richardson told me he was having a party that Saturday at his house. I was pretty sure that meant I was invited, but I wasn’t positive.
Then at lunch, I came into the cafeteria, and all the Falcons were eating at the same big table.
“Over here!” Flip said, and waved at me to come sit down.
You know when you think someone’s talking to the person behind you, but then you look and nobody’s there? It felt like that. Except this was Flip, so I figured it out pretty fast.
“I decided we’re going to call that crazy play of yours Khatch and Scatter,” Flip told me when I put my tray down. “Khatch, like Khatchadorian,” he said. “Get it?”
“Yeah, I get it,” I told him. “But I couldn’t run that play again if I tried.” I remembered Miller passing me the ball, and I remembered getting power-mugged in the end zone. But the rest was kind of a blur.
Still, once Flip made up his mind, that was it. So okay, Khatch and Scatter. I liked it, actually. I’d never had a football play named after me.
I’d never sat at a cool kids’ table either. It was like visiting a foreign country.
“Yo, Khatchadorian!” Jeremy yelled from the other end of the table. “We’ve got your MVP trophy over here. Stand by for delivery.”
I looked over, and Jeremy was opening a carton of chocolate milk. But he was also smiling in this way that said, I’m not JUST opening a chocolate milk, so pay attention. Everyone else was starting to watch too.
“What’s going on?” I asked Flip.
“You’ll see,” he said.
Jeremy opened the milk carton up wide and passed it to Richie Franklin. Richie dropped a Tater Tot inside and passed it on to Calvin Penn. Calvin added a couple spoonfuls of creamed corn and passed it over to Miller. Then Miller ripped open a packet of ketchup.
“Can’t have Tater Tots without ketchup,” he said, and squirted it in. Then he closed the carton, shook it up, and slid the whole thing over to me.
If Flip hadn’t been sitting there cheesing away, I would have thought this was Miller and the guys picking on me, all over again. But something about this felt different. This was more like a dare. The good kind.
“Drink, drink, drink, drink,” Flip said, right before the rest of the team started saying it too.
I mean, it’s not like I was excited about drinking that chocolate-corn-tater milk. But I did kind of like the way they were all looking at me, waiting to see what I’d do.
So you know I went for it, right?
The first swallow was the hardest. It tasted like… well, like chocolate, corn, potato, and ketchup. The guys all laughed like crazy when some of the milk spilled right out of the sides of my mouth.
Which made me laugh too.
Which made me spit.
Which made all of us laugh even harder—but not as hard as we did when some of that chocolate milk came dripping out of my nose. There might have been some creamed corn in there too. It was hard to tell. Meanwhile, the guys were yelling my name, and pounding their fists on the table, and it was completely amazing, and totally hilarious…
… right up until Mrs. Stonecase came swooping in for the kill.
“WHAT is the nature of this disturbance?” she said. “And WHO is responsible for this mess?”
Just like that, I knew I was busted. Stonecase looked ready to start slicing and dicing as soon as someone pled guilty, but I was still trying to swallow what was left in my mouth.
And here’s where things got even more interesting.
Before I could tell Mrs. Stonecase anything, Flip piped up. “I did it,” he said. “It’s my mess, Mrs. Stonecase.”
“No, it’s my mess,” Jeremy said.
“Actually, it’s mine,” I said. But everyone kept on going.
“Me too,” Miller said.
“Me three,” Quinn said.
Within a minute, every Falcon at that table took credit for the whole thing. Mrs. Stonecase thought it was hilarious too, and gave us all the rest of the day off from school.
Yeah, right after she quit her job, little green men landed on the lawn outside, and Jeanne Galletta decided to fall in love with me after all.
“Enough!” Mrs. Stonecase said. “Is there anyone at this table to whom this mess does not belong?”
Nobody made a move.
“Fine,” she said. Then she whipped out her phone and took a picture of all of us sitting at that table.
“I will see every one of you in detention, first thing after school on Friday,” Stonecase said, looking at the picture. “No getting out of it now.”
“Seriously?” Jeremy said.
“That was smooth,” Flip said. “Did you see how she did that?”
“And if this mess isn’t cleaned up in five minutes, you can make it three detentions. EACH!” Mrs. Stonecase told us. Then she put the phone back in her pocket like she was holstering a weapon. Which she kind of was.
Friday detention was the worst—as in, the most work. I figured the guys were going to quit fooling around now and throw me right under the bus.
But they didn’t. They all just shut up and took it. Even Miller! So now, maybe for the first time ever, the whole Hills Village Middle School football team was going to have one massive detention.
I’m not saying I was looking forward to it. And I’m not saying I was proud of myself. But… it was kind of awesome.
Just don’t tell my mom I said that.