How to Beat the Bully Without Really Trying Page 8

  Jessica dodged a Happy Marshmallow. “What do you mean? And why are you so red?”

  “You know, your big practice sessions. What are you doing at his house?”

  “Well, he actually came over to my house, and he only came over once.”

  That made me feel a little better, but not much. One question still burned in my brain. I wanted to play it cool but couldn’t. “What exactly did you practice?”

  Jessica smiled and asked, “Why should it matter to you?”

  She had me there. I tried to decide if I should tell her that I liked her. I began to open my mouth but she spoke first.

  “He wanted to practice the kiss scene but my dad saw him and sent him home.”

  Greatly relieved, I told her the truth. “Your dad sounds like a great guy.”

  Jessica laughed. “He is. It looks like I’ll only be kissing Greg during the dress rehearsal.”

  Just as my brain wrestled with that one, a Happy Marshmallow smashed me right in the face.

  Chapter 15

  SWEET REVENGE

  The day of the play was Friday, February 14. Not only was it Valentine’s Day, it was the day before Presidents’ Week. Normally it’s a pretty darn good time because we get off from school to celebrate Washington and Lincoln. There was nothing good about it this year. With all my various problems weighing on me, I grew more and more depressed as the day got closer. Not only was I worried about wearing tights and afraid I would lose Jessica to Greg, but I had found out that Rocco and his family were arriving any day.

  On Thursday, February 13, we had a dress rehearsal. It was awful. The tights looked more ridiculous in person than they had in the pictures. Friar Tuck thought it was hysterical, and throughout the action we heard him snickering to himself. We were without hope, and though Mrs. Lutzkraut criticized our acting, she thought the tights looked great.

  Toby wasn’t alone in his enjoyment. Greg strutted around in his green outfit, and Kayla—dressed like an evil witch—chased Will Scarlet between scenes trying to pinch his legs. I felt like running offstage. The one bright spot was that Greg had to leave early to go to the dentist, sparing me from witnessing two days of him kissing Jessica.

  Upon arriving home that day I was met by the whirlwind otherwise known as my great-aunt Evelyn. I didn’t know she was coming. In fact, none of us did. That’s what she did. She’d whisk into town on a whim and everything instantly revolved around her. She was a lot of fun, but in my funk, she really had to work to get me going.

  “There’s my darling nephew!” she exclaimed as I opened the front door.

  “Aunt Evelyn, what are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I hear you are now a big actor, and I came to see the performance tomorrow.” I looked over at my mom, who smiled at her aunt and me. I frowned.

  “I really don’t want to be in the play. We have to wear these awful tights and everyone will make fun of us,” I complained. My aunt smiled and turned to me.

  “Errol Flynn wore tights, you know. Ah, Rodney, you’ll be great, and I have something for you.” She swooped into the dining room and I stumbled behind, wondering who Errol Flynn was. She pulled out a big red, heart-shaped box.

  “You got me chocolates?” I asked.

  “Rodney, this box of chocolates comes all the way from Brussels where I was visiting the prince. Brussels is the capital of Belgium, by the way, and Rodney, you may not know this, but they make some of the best chocolate in the world there. This box in particular has the finest, richest chocolate money can buy. It will make any girl faint from happiness when it touches her lips. So I brought it for you to give. Your mom let me know there’s a little girl that you fancy.” I reddened and glanced back at my mom, who looked away.

  “I can’t bring that to school. The other . . .”

  “Hush,” my great-aunt said, gently putting her finger on my lips. “Rodney, you can bring it. Trust your auntie, she knows what’s good for you.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Evelyn, but I think she might like another boy.”

  “All the more reason to give it to her, then. One bite and she’ll melt. Now, enough talk. Let’s mambo!”

  “Huh?” I asked.

  “Rodney, it’s time I teach you one of the world’s best dances,” she said, grabbing me by the shoulders, pressing PLAY on the stereo, and dragging me to the center of the living room. “Now we mambo!” And we did. And it was fun. And for a little while I forgot about Rocco, Jessica, tights, Greg, and YouTube.

  Aunt Evelyn did a good job of keeping my mind from the approaching fiasco, but morning eventually came, and with it, dread. I set out for school with a heavy heart and backpack full of chocolates. In the back of Mrs. Lutzkraut’s class, while taking out our books, Aunt Evelyn’s box of chocolates caught Slim’s eye.

  “What’s that, Rodney?” he asked, pointing at the box. It was large and took up most of the room in my pack. I was still debating if I was really going to give it to Jessica, but now it was noticed, and Toby was always around to jump on a situation.

  “Ooooh, who’s your valentine, Rodney?” he said, grabbing it and holding it to his chest. “Is it Rishi?”

  I snatched it back and felt my cheeks reddening. I met Jessica’s eyes. She looked down at the box. Other students had gathered and were looking at me holding the box. My mouth felt dry and my knees started to shake slightly. I had to make a decision. I decided to . . .

  “What’s all this commotion?” Mrs. Lutzkraut snapped, eyeing the box in my hands. I thought I saw her lick her lips for a second as she held out her hand. “This is causing quite a disruption. I’ll hold on to it for safekeeping.” I didn’t know what to say as she snatched Aunt Evelyn’s chocolates from me. I was confused, embarrassed, and mad. An already bad day had just gotten worse . . . and the play wasn’t even scheduled until 2:00 p.m.

  At lunch, everyone started panicking, beginning with Dave. “What are we going to do?” he screamed. “I can’t handle another day of wearing tights around Kayla.”

  “We’ve got to do something,” Rishi shouted. “Rodney, you must have an idea!”

  Toby interrupted us with, “He’s got nothing. You boys are going to be the joke of the school. It’s going to be . . .” He continued on and on, but I stopped listening. Instead I was thinking that we had to make one last appeal to Mrs. Lutzkraut. If I explained our position, maybe, just maybe, she might listen. I doubted I would succeed, but I also figured that if I annoyed her enough she might kick me out of the performance.

  I stood up. Everyone at the lunch table stopped what they were doing and looked in my direction. “I think I know how to save us.” They were all silent as I headed out of the cafeteria. The aides, as usual, were too busy talking to even notice me.

  I trudged up the stairs and down the silent, empty hall to my class. I peered in. Mrs. Lutzkraut was there at her desk all right, but the sight shocked me. She was holding her stomach and moaning. Empty chocolate wrappers littered her desk and covered the floor. It seemed as if she had brown lipstick smeared crazily all around her mouth. Her eyes fluttered, and with a shudder and a gurgle her head fell forward and came to rest on top of a big red, very familiar-looking heart-shaped chocolate box.

  I was about to approach her to make sure she was all right, but then she rubbed her stomach and moaned. I ran to get Mr. Feebletop. I found him in his office busy counting baseball cards. After explaining what I had just witnessed, he thanked me for getting him. Before heading off with the nurse, he turned back and looked like he was struggling to find the right words. “This could be very embarrassing for Mrs. Lutzkraut—” he began.

  Before he could go on, I said, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

  He was greatly relieved. “Thanks, Rodney,” he said with a smile. “I owe you one.”

  “Well, Mr. Feebletop, if that’s how you feel, there is something you can do.”

  “Oh. What’s that, Rodney?”

  “Well you see, Mr. Feebletop . . .”

  W
hen I got back to recess, the aides were still too busy talking to notice me, and I soon found my friends. They immediately gathered around me and demanded to know what had happened. Before I could tell them, Long Nose blew the whistle and we lined up. We stood there silently, forbidden to talk, and we—well, not really me—were surprised after a while to see Mr. Feebletop come to pick us up.

  We trailed him in the hall and some of the boys looked at me curiously. No one knew what was going on as we entered our classroom and sat down. Mr. Feebletop waited for everyone to settle, glanced at the custodian who was busy sweeping something up, and cleared his throat.

  “Mrs. Lutzkraut had to leave school for the day. It’s rather sad, being that today is the day of the big performance, but she should be all right.”

  “What happened, Mr. Feebletop?” Jessica asked.

  “Well, young lady, let’s just say she had to leave for the day.” Now all the boys were looking at me. A couple of them actually looked scared. Rishi’s eyes were bugging out of his head, and Toby looked at me dumbstruck, his ugly mouth hanging open even wider than usual. Mr. Feebletop continued, “We cannot postpone the play, since all your parents have already begun to arrive. I’ll be helping out in Mrs. Lutzkraut’s absence. The show must go on, without her.”

  I coughed.

  “Oh yes. One more thing. I’ve been thinking about the final scene with Maid Marian and Robin Hood. I think kissing at a school performance is inappropriate. I think it would be better, if after rescuing Maid Marian, Robin Hood gives her a nice handshake.”

  “But Mr. Feebletop,” Greg blurted.

  “I’ve made my decision, young man. A handshake, and that’s it.”

  I coughed again.

  “Oh, and it seems the play is running a bit long, so I have decided to eliminate the speech by Clark Griswold at the end.”

  “Uh, that’s Guy of Gisborne,” I corrected him.

  “Yes, okay. Anyway, I hope that’s fine with you, Rodney.”

  I flashed a brief look of disappointment but told him I understood. When it looked as though he was finished talking I caught his eye and coughed one last time, even louder than before.

  “Oh yes. It has come to my attention that there is a problem with some of the team uniforms. . . .”

  “Costumes.”

  “Thank you, Rodney. Yes, costumes. It seems the tights that you are supposed to wear are a bit too small. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m suggesting that you wear your jeans instead.”

  The boys in the class broke into a cheer and jumped up—except, of course, for Toby. Mr. Feebletop then led us down to the stage, where the other boys gathered around me.

  “I knew you’d do it,” Rishi spoke for them all. “But how did you do it?”

  “You know, Rishi,” I answered, “let’s just say I have my ways,” and I didn’t elaborate. This time none of them created stories to explain what had happened. Whatever I had done was beyond their imaginations.

  The performance turned out to be a hit, and most of my male classmates were forever grateful to me. One who wasn’t happy was a very grumpy Friar Tuck, who did a lousy job of living up to the title of Merry Man.

  I was ecstatic. Especially as I watched a gloomy Robin Hood give Maid Marian a dejected handshake.

  Afterward, Jessica came over to me. “Well, it’s over. Funny how things turned out.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “A handshake? You’re really something, Rodney Rathbone.” She laughed and reached out and gave me a handshake.

  “Save me, Rodney!” Dave ran by with his witch hot in pursuit, looking for a Valentine’s Day handshake of her own.

  Later that night, Aunt Evelyn insisted on taking our family out for a big dinner to celebrate. She kept saying that the performance rivaled anything she had seen in all the great theaters of Europe. At one point, while waiting for our appetizers, she leaned over to me and asked, “So, were the chocolates a hit?”

  I smiled and answered, “Yes, Aunt Evelyn, they certainly were. I guess you could say they stole the show.”

  She smiled back and I felt great. It had been some day. I was even acting nice to Penny. We were all having a good time, except my mother, who looked like she had something bad to say. As soon as our waitress cleared the dinner plates, I wasn’t surprised to hear my mom announce, “I’m afraid I have some disappointing news.”

  “There’s no dessert?” my father asked, looking alarmed.

  My mother continued. “Rodney, this concerns you.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I got a call today from Mrs. Ronboni.”

  My stomach tightened. “Yeah?”

  “The Ronbonis won’t be coming out this week. It seems they’ve all come down with the hyena flu. It’s worse than either the swine flu or bird flu. Poor Rocco is real sick.”

  “How awful,” I said, putting on a fake sad voice. I did my best to fight off the smile that threatened to crack the sides of my lips.

  My mom nodded her head slightly and said, “I can see this has really upset you, Rodney. Don’t worry, though. Mrs. Ronboni said they’d reschedule the trip. And do you know what else?”

  I shook my head, fearing what she’d say next.

  “Rocco wanted his mom to give you a special message. He said he can’t wait to come for you. That he’s looking forward to making up for lost time. He said you’d understand.”

  I understood all right. I squirmed in my seat, dreading those wedgies that were heading my way.

  Chapter 16

  THE BATHROOM

  Following Presidents’ break, Mrs. Lutzkraut never mentioned the chocolates or the fact that we wore jeans under our robes. All she said was that the faculty had complimented the show, and then she dropped the subject. I figured she was embarrassed about her feeding frenzy and wanted to move on.

  And we did. In no time at all we were right back to our normal, boring classroom routine. It gave me plenty of time to worry about the Ronbonis’ trip, but at least everything in Ohio was pretty much business as usual for the next few weeks—until I began to notice little things that bothered me.

  For instance, there was one day in early March when it was warm enough for us to go outside for recess. I was playing basketball and chased down a loose ball. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Josh shoving some kid around on the field. I pretended not to notice. Later that week everyone was talking about Josh cornering a kid in the hallway and demanding his lunch money. Suddenly my chicken sense kicked in. Things were changing. Josh was back to his bullying self. Not when I was around, but he was starting to feel comfortable, and that could only spell trouble for me.

  Trouble came knocking two days later. I was home lying on the couch. That morning I had woken up with a stomachache—after worrying about Josh and Rocco all night—and convinced my mom to let me stay home. Besides, a day on the couch was a lot better than even a few minutes with Mrs. Lutzkraut. That is, until there was a knock on the door at around four thirty. My mom answered it.

  “Hi, Mrs. Rathbone. Can we see Rodney?” It was Rishi’s voice.

  “Rishi, Rodney’s been sick, maybe tomor—”

  “Mrs. Rathbone, thanks for letting us in. It’s really important.” My mom just sighed and walked away as my three friends barged into the living room. “You feeling better, Rodney?”

  “A little.” The truth is that my stomachache had disappeared as soon as my mom had said I could stay home.

  “That’s good, ’cause we need you back at school,” Rishi went on.

  “Why, does Mrs. Lutzkraut miss me?” I joked.

  “No, Josh is acting up really bad,” Rishi answered seriously.

  Just then my father came in from work. “Who’s acting up?” he asked, taking off his coat.

  “This bully, Josh. Today he even took our back seats on the bus.”

  “Yeah, and he called me Flabio,” Slim whined.

  My father asked, “Rodney, isn’t Josh the kid you knocked out on
the first day of school?”

  “That’s the one,” Rishi answered for me. My stomachache was returning.

  “So, you coming back tomorrow?” Rishi continued.

  “Well, this stomach of mine is . . .”

  “Better,” my dad interrupted. “He’ll be on the bus tomorrow. If there’s one thing my son isn’t, it’s a coward.”

  “You got that right, Mr. Rathbone,” Dave agreed. “I don’t know where we’d be without him.”

  I just groaned and rolled over.

  The next day my friends made me join them in the back of the bus. When Josh climbed aboard, Rishi was waiting for him. “Where you sitting today?”

  Josh glared back at him, but he noticed me sitting there, and while I tried hard not to pull the emergency latch and jump out the back door, he eventually sat down in the middle.

  “That’s what I thought!” Rishi yelled.

  Great. Josh was already getting itchy. The last thing I needed was Rishi egging him on. My brain was entering crisis mode and it wasn’t long before the rest of my body followed.

  By the time I got into class, my stomach was rumbling pretty bad. Cramps tightened my lower stomach. I could feel gurgling and pressure building. It was all I could do to keep from farting. I sat there sweating and clenching and praying nothing sneaked out. To fart in class would lead to weeks, no months, maybe even years of jokes. The one math equation I did understand was that

  a fart = funny

  but not for the person who lets one slip.

  With each passing thought of Josh beating my face to a pulp, the chance of me passing gas increased.

  Mrs. Lutzkraut didn’t let us use the restroom. She told us that there was time before school, during lunch, and after school. Emergencies, according to her, were the result of bad planning, and therefore didn’t really exist in her mind. Art was coming up, so I bit down on my pencil eraser and held on.