David Fleming - The Saturday Boy

“So you understand, right?” she said.

“Understand what?”

“That because of yesterday the TV is going to have to stay off for a while.”

“What? For how long?”

“Two weeks.”

“But what about the Zeroman special episode?”

“I’m sorry, Derek, but you should’ve thought of that before doing what you did.”

“Nobody does that!” I blurted.

“Derek, stop. You’re making it worse. Stop and think.”

“No! It’s not fair! It’s Budgie’s fault! It’s always Budgie’s fault!” I could feel myself getting angry. I couldn’t stop.

“Then why isn’t he the one staying after school for a week? Think about it.”

“ Stop telling me to think about it! ”

Mom’s mouth dropped open and her face went white. I don’t think I’d ever yelled at her like that before. It was like I had slapped her. Then I noticed something else—the book I’d been putting in my backpack was no longer in my hand. It was lying on the counter where it had hit the drying rack with enough force to scatter silverware across the countertop and onto the floor. Mom stood up and went past me, her footsteps getting faster as she left the kitchen. They got even quicker as she went up the stairs and by the time I heard her bedroom door close she was practically running.

I didn’t want anyone to sit next to me on the bus that morning. I didn’t want to have to look at anyone or hear or smell them so it figured that as the bus filled up, who should sit next to me but Edwina Stubbs—the biggest, loudest, smelliest girl in school.

“Move in,” she said.

I pulled my book bag onto my lap and moved over until I was smashed up against the wall. Our arms were touching.

“I said move over!”

“I did!” I said. “There’s no room left!”

She made a harrumphing sound that reminded me of farm animals, then she wiggled around in the seat and started talking real loud to someone who was at least two rows back. Somehow her book bag ended up in my lap, so not only was I totally squashed but now I was buried as well.

I tried to get comfortable but couldn’t. It seemed like every time I moved—even a little—more of Edwina Stubbs would fill the space like she were a puddle. I closed my eyes and imagined her as a boneless, flesh-colored blob. In my mind, the Edwina puddle oozed down the fifth-grade hallway, absorbing the slower kids while the others ran screaming. By the time we got to school I imagined she’d absorbed the whole town and everyone in it.

“Hey! Quit trying to steal my bag!” she said, snatching it from my lap.

“But you’re the one who put—”

“If anything is missing,” she said, making a fist and holding it up to my face, “you’ll get this. Got it?”

“We’re gonna be late.”

“Got it?”

“Just get off the bus.”

“I’m watching you,” Edwina said.

With that she oozed into the aisle with the other kids and stood in line waiting, tossing an occasional nasty look back my way. I sat with my book bag in my lap and planned to stay there until the driver kicked me off, suddenly feeling that being threatened by Edwina Stubbs was going to be the best thing that was going to happen to me today.

I wasn’t wrong.

Ms. Dickson gave us a pop quiz I wasn’t prepared for. At lunchtime I realized I’d forgotten to bring mine. Then at afternoon recess I got hit in the face with a kickball during a game I wasn’t even in. The nurse said she hadn’t seen a nose bleed like that in a long time like it was some big accomplishment but when I asked if I’d get an award or a plaque or something she just laughed.

That was Tuesday.

Wednesday wasn’t much better.

And all I’m going to say about Thursday is that I was nowhere near Barely O’Donahue when the hamster bit him.

It didn’t matter to me that Friday was rainy and cold. It didn’t matter to me that Budgie took my hat on the bus, and the fact that I thought Montevideo was a movie rental place and not the capital of Uruguay only seemed to matter to Ms. Dickson. As far as I was concerned, all that mattered was that it was Friday and the school week was finally over.

When I got off the bus it wasn’t really raining that hard anymore and by the time I got home it had stopped completely. Water filled the holes in the empty driveway. I let myself into the house and hung up my jacket and kicked off my shoes and dropped my book bag in the corner.

“Aunt Josie? Hello?”

I went to the pantry and got a Chocolate Ka-Blam. Then I went to the fridge and took out the milk and sat down at the table. I unwrapped the Ka-Blam, took a bite, and washed it down with a swig of milk from the jug. They tasted best that way. It was a scientific fact.

When I was done licking the last of the crumbs out of the wrapper and had taken a final gulp of milk, I put the cap back on the jug and put it back in the fridge. I saw the note when the door shut. It was stuck there with a magnet that looked like a baloney sandwich.

Derek—

Aunt Josie’s car is finally fixed. I took her to pick it up. Be back soon. If you’re going to have milk pls use a glass ok? And remember—no TV.

Love you—

I looked into the living room and could see part of the television. I looked out the kitchen window and could see part of the driveway. I wondered how soon “be back soon” was. I took a couple of steps toward the living room, stopped, and looked back. The driveway was still empty. I took a few more steps. Pretty soon I couldn’t see the kitchen window anymore. Pretty soon after that I was sitting on the couch.

I stared at the television. I rubbed my hands on my pants and swallowed. My heart was beating so fast I thought it would explode out of my chest. I squinted my ears and listened for Mom’s car in the driveway or the banging of the storm door but didn’t hear either of them.

I picked up the remote and pointed it at the television. Was I really going to do this? My thumb hovered over the red power button for a second or two like I was giving someone or something a last chance to stop me. I listened for Mom’s car again and didn’t hear it. I closed my eyes and slowly pressed the button.

Mom must have been watching the news before because when I opened my eyes I wasn’t looking at Zeroman or A Dog Named Cat or even Jenny Rainbow and the Starlight Pony Squad . Instead I was looking at two people behind a desk and a lot of numbers and little symbols moving across the bottom of the screen. The volume was also turned way down. I flipped to a cartoon channel but Mom had blocked it. I flipped to another cartoon channel but she’d blocked that one also. I tried all the channels I could think of that might be showing something I’d want to watch but I was locked out of all of them. She’d even blocked the Adventure Kids channel and that one was educational.

I slumped back into the couch and sat there staring at the screen. Fine. I might not have been able to watch TV but if Mom thought that would get me to do homework instead, she was crazy. I switched back over to the news channel. The last thing I needed was for her to turn on the TV and have it be on one of the channels she’d blocked. I’d learned that one the hard way.

I wasn’t sure it was the same channel Mom had been watching because all those news people look the same to me. The same numbers and little symbols moved across the bottom of the screen. The only thing different from before was that there was a picture of a soldier in the corner.

He was wearing desert camo and looking at the camera with a serious expression on his face. I bet he had a code name. I bet it was Sandstorm or something cool and desert related like that. The soldier looked kinda familiar, too, but I couldn’t place him.