David Fleming - The Saturday Boy

I could feel everybody looking at me. They were probably looking at Violet, too. I looked down at my desk and felt my face get all warm. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Violet. She was smiling like she wasn’t bothered by the stares and giggles. Maybe she wasn’t. Then Violet was smiling at me and I was smiling back. It felt pretty good.

Later that day when we came in from recess there was a note on my desk from Budgie that said,

Derek loves Vilet.

He didn’t sign it or anything but Budgie isn’t very good at spelling so I knew it was probably him. I looked around to tell him he was wrong but he was talking with this kid named Barely O’Donahue. His real name was Barry but pretty much everybody called him Barely because he was so short. I crushed up Budgie’s note and put it in my desk.

During the last period Sally, who sits behind me, passed me a note. It was from Budgie. Nobody good ever passed me notes . It said,

You

I looked over my shoulder at Budgie but he had his head down and he was working. Was that it? Where was the rest of it? That was the worst note ever. I put it in my desk and went back to drawing superheroes in the margins of my math book. About a minute later Sally passed me another note. This one said,

You love

My face started to feel hot all of a sudden. I shoved the note into my desk before anyone could see. I drew Budgie as a big, fat, marshmallow thing with legs and I drew Bonfyre roasting it with her fire bolts. I also added a couple of Boy Scouts who were waiting around to make s’mores out of him. They had a box of graham crackers and everything. Then Sally passed me another note. I should have just put it in my desk without looking at it. I should have eaten it or burned it or done anything but open it but I opened it. In Budgie’s big, stupid handwriting it read,

You love her!!!!!!

I crumpled up the note, spun around in my seat, and whipped it at Budgie.

“ Eat it, fat boy!”

Everything stopped. Ms. Dickson stopped writing on the whiteboard. Everyone stopped working. I think even the clock stopped ticking. Budgie held his hand over his eye like he was hurt even though I could tell he was totally faking. I knew it was wrong but I kinda wished he was hurt for real. Turning the other cheek all the time was hard work. What did they think? That I was made of them?

“Derek! Office! Now!”

Of course. Because it was my fault.

I stopped in the boys’ room on the way to the office to splash some cold water on my face because all the unfairness had gotten me all hot and mad. I plugged the drain with a paper towel and turned on the cold water in the sink. When it was full I turned the water off. I splashed some on my face and that helped a little but I was still thinking about Budgie sitting there holding his eye like he was hurt and I bet I didn’t even hit him. I bet everyone was paying attention to him and feeling bad for him and suddenly I was mad again so I took a deep breath and dunked my head in the sink as far as it would go.

When I pulled my head out of the sink cold water splashed down my neck and onto the front of my shirt and even though I didn’t really feel angry anymore, I was still in trouble and now I was wet. I got a paper towel and dried my face and threw it out. Then I got another one and dried my neck and threw that one out. Then I got another one and started drying my hair. Ms. Dickson would have said I was dawdling.

The way I saw it, I was just taking the time to do a good job.

I was doing such a good job, in fact, that when the end-of-the-day bell rang I was still standing there. I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like I’d been gutpunched.

I’d completely forgotten to go to the principal’s office.

I was toast. I was dead. I was worse than dead—I was doomed. Making a mess in the boys’ room and using all the paper towels was one thing, but disobeying a teacher when they’d told you to do something was another. Forget sitting next to the teacher’s desk or writing something over and over again on the whiteboard until you couldn’t feel your hand anymore, this time Ms. Dickson was going to kill me.

What was I going to do? I couldn’t get killed now. What would I say to my mom?

I opened the bathroom door and peeked into the hallway. The doors to the classrooms were open and kids were coming out to get their coats and get ready to go outside to catch the buses. Man, it would be good to be one of those kids right about now. I’d be putting my jacket on and be thinking about Chocolate Ka-Blams and Zeroman instead of hiding out in the boys’ room with damp hair and no more paper towels.

I had to think of something quick. Kids were starting to stream down the hall past the bathroom and it wasn’t like I could just step out and join them. I didn’t have my backpack or my jacket, and besides, if Budgie saw me he’d dime me out for sure. I’d have to wait. I couldn’t go home without my stuff and I couldn’t get my stuff until Ms. Dickson and the class had gone.

I really wanted to stick my head out to see where Ms. Dickson and the rest of the class were but I knew that would be a bad idea so I didn’t. Luckily I heard Budgie’s fat, dumb laugh coming from down the hall. Somebody must have told him the one about the chicken crossing the road because he’s the only one in the whole world who thinks it’s funny. I closed the door and waited until I couldn’t hear his laugh anymore and when I opened the door again the hallway was empty.

This was it.

I snuck down the hall and into the classroom. Through the windows I could see the turnaround where the buses were lining up with all the kids waiting to get on. I didn’t have much time. Soon the buses would be full and they’d drive away and I’d be stuck here. I grabbed all my stuff and was pulling on my jacket when I noticed that Budgie had left his math workbook on his desk.

Budgie. Budgie with the fat, dumb laugh. Budgie whose fault this all was.

I went over and picked up the book and flipped through it a little. We had math homework tonight and he couldn’t do it without the book. The nice thing to do would be to bring it to him. The right thing to do would be to bring it to him. He could get in trouble if he didn’t do his homework.

I looked out the window again. The buses were filling up. I thought about Budgie and what Mom had said about him having pain in his life. Then I thought about what a pain it was having him in my life. I thought about those two things for as long as I could without missing the bus.

Then I glued the book to his desk and ran.

Mom was waiting for me when I got home.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

I dropped my backpack on the floor and took off my jacket and hung it up and went into the pantry for a Chocolate Ka-Blam. When I turned around Mom was standing in the doorway. Her arms were crossed. She didn’t look happy. She looked disappointed and a little sad.

“Do you know who I just got off the phone with?”

“No.”

“Derek.”

“Ms. Dickson?”

“ And Mr. Howard,” said Mom. “Do you know why they called?”

I nodded and fiddled with the Chocolate Ka-Blam and then put it back on the shelf. I suddenly wasn’t very hungry anymore.

I remembered the last thing Mr. Howard had called about. It was easy to remember because Dad had just gotten home and I always remembered everything that happened when he was here.

It’d been late and I was supposed to be in bed but I’d had two sodas at the welcome home party and they’d had caffeine in them so I sat at the bottom of the stairs instead, listening to my daddy’s voice as he and Mom talked in the kitchen.

I didn’t know what they were talking about and it didn’t matter. I’d just missed the sound of my dad’s voice. My mom once said she thought Dad must be afraid of the quiet the way he was always talking to himself and singing but I didn’t agree. My dad’s not afraid of anything. But the quiet is awfully loud when he’s away.