Cheating for the Chicken Man (6 page)

NO BIG DEAL

A
re you okay?” Kate asked breathlessly. She used a Kleenex to dab at some of the milk on her brother's shirt.

J.T. brushed her hand away. “Yeah, yeah. I'm okay. Just go on to class, Kate. It's not your problem.”

“It is my problem. You're my brother!”

“Yeah, well, if I were you, right now I'd pretend we weren't related.”

“Stop it!”

“I'm
serious
. Just go!” J.T. said, wiping his pants with an already saturated napkin.

Kate glanced around, incredulous, as kids rushed past right and left to get to class. Like nothing had happened! Why wasn't a teacher coming to help? Didn't anybody see what had just happened?

“Are you going to the office?” Kate asked.

“What for?” J.T. snapped the question as he threw the wadded napkin on the table.

“What for? What do you mean
what for
? To report those guys! You know who threw it, don't you?”

J.T. glared at her. “No. Who was it?”

“Curtis!” Kate exclaimed. “Jess and I saw him laughing. Curtis and that boy who hung out with him in middle school.”

“Hooper Delaney?”

Kate nodded.

“Did you actually
see
one of them throw it?”

Kate still held the soggy tissue. “No.”

“Then how are you going to prove it?”

“Tons of people saw!” Kate said. “Jess was sitting across from me. She saw the whole thing!”

J.T. shook his head as he lifted his backpack.

“What are you going to do?” Kate pressed.

“I'm going to the bathroom to clean up.” J.T. paused and looked his sister in the eye. “Kate, please, just leave it, okay? It's
my
business, not yours.”

Kate felt sick to her stomach as she watched J.T. walk away. She looked to see if Jess had waited for her, but her friend was nowhere to be seen. The cafeteria was practically empty. The buzzer rang again. She would be late for a class on the first day of school.

*

Fortunately, Kate's next class wasn't too far down the hall from the cafeteria. And, as it turned out, her teacher was late, too. Kate took the first open seat she found, at the front of the room, before Mr. Ellison walked in. After pulling a pen from her purse, she sat back in the chair, still trying to catch her breath.

When Mr. Ellison closed the door, chitchat in the room stopped. He was incredibly tall. Young, too, and good-looking, Kate thought. Wow. Her most anticipated class was about to begin with a really cool teacher, and she felt like crying because of her brother. Quickly, she glanced around the room, knowing that she would see a mix of upperclassmen. She was one of two freshmen taking Creative Writing. Another syllabus was
dropped on her desk. As Mr. Ellison discussed what they would cover—essays, profiles, scene writing—Kate began to relax a little and tune in.

“Later on, we're going to try some vignettes that include plot, setting, and dialogue,” Mr. Ellison said, his deep voice upbeat, enthusiastic. He didn't refer to notes as he spoke. “You're also going to keep journals.”

This class would be amazing, Kate thought. She had read on the school website that Mr. Ellison was new to Corsica High School. Previously, he'd been a middle school English teacher in Montana. Kate had never been farther west than Toledo, Ohio, where her grandparents once lived. Reading Mr. Ellison's bio on the website, she had pictured snowcapped mountains with snarling cougars and open plains with wild horses running.

“Every day we will begin this class with fifteen minutes of freewriting,” Mr. Ellison announced. “I'll give you a prompt. I may write a word on the board or put an object on my desk, and you'll respond by writing continuously for fifteen minutes. The whole idea is to move that pen in your hands and see where you end up.”

He pushed aside some papers and sat on the corner of his desk. Kate was surprised, but she liked his informality.

“This will help you get in the habit of writing every day,” he said. “Second, it will help you get in the writing
mood
.”

Honors English and Creative Writing were going to be her two favorite classes; she could feel it already.

“Let's start right now,” Mr. Ellison said. “Take out your journals. If you don't have one, raise your hand, and I'll give you
a piece of paper. Write about what you're thinking right now. What do you expect from this class?”

Kate rummaged through her backpack and took out the notebook she had carefully chosen as her journal for Creative Writing class. It was identical to the one in which she'd written all summer. She liked that notebook. It had a dark blue cover, narrow lines on the pages, and three cardboard inserts that divided the notebook into sections. Each insert had a pocket that Kate imagined using for ideas she had jotted down on colored index cards.

“Everyone—
p
lease
—begin,” Mr. Ellison said. “I'm not going to collect and read these journals. Just relax and write whatever comes into your head.”

Kate began:

I'm going to
love this class, be
cause I hope to be a
writer. I mean, fir
st of all I want to
work with animals so
mehow, like maybe sa
ving endangered anim
als. But I want to b
e a writer, too. I l
ove finding the righ
t word to describe s
omething. Like
stoic
for my father durin
g his years of kidne
y dialysis. And
indefatigable
for my gra
ndmother, who is sev
enty and never seems
to run out of energ
y.
Kate paused.

“Be honest!” Mr. Ellison encouraged them.

It
's my brother
, Kate began slowly.
It's l
ike a nightmare comi
ng true. At lunch to
day someone threw a
carton of milk
 . . .

*

After school, Kate met up with Jess for junior varsity field hockey practice and was relieved to hear Olivia didn't want to join the team after all. She felt a little guilty thinking this, but now, she figured, she could totally focus on the game. All of the
eighth-grade season she'd been the goalie, and she was excited that the high school coach was letting her try out for a different position. Halfback, maybe, where she could actually run and drive the ball. Their first game was coming up in a couple weeks, and Kate hoped she'd be one of the starters in a new position. For nearly two hours, Kate focused only on the drills, driving the ball up the field and whacking it into the goal. Afterward, Jess's mother gave Kate a ride home.

As she walked toward the house, Kate could hear Kerry's singsong voice from inside the house. Her little sister had been so excited about second grade. Was it all she expected? Kate was eager to find out what was for dinner, too, and hoped it was her grandmother's spicy stuffed peppers she smelled.

J.T. sat on the front steps, but stood up when Kate approached. “Don't say anything about what happened today,” he told her.

Kate stopped. She didn't want to promise him that she wouldn't tell. She let the backpack slip off her shoulder. Her eyes fell away from his.

“It's
my
business, Kate. It's my thing that I have to sort out.”

He was right about that, Kate thought. She locked eyes with her brother. “What are you going to do?”

“I don't know. Hopefully, it's over,” he said. Then he emphasized, “I don't want to make a big deal out of it.”

Kate hesitated.

“I'm not one of your injured animals, Kate. I can take care of myself.”

“All right,” she agreed. “I won't say anything. But if it
happens again, J.T., will you report it? You can't let him start this in high school.”

“I know,” he said. “Look, I've got to do the culling before dinner.”

Kate watched him walk off, Tucker trotting alongside. He would spend part of the next hour doing the job she hated most.

Just then, Kerry burst through the front door. “Kate! I have homework!”

Kate dropped her things and opened her arms for a hug. “No way!” she said, beaming and kneeling to give her little sister a hug.

*

The next morning, Kate chose her clothes more carefully. She wore a denim skirt, a striped top, and sandals. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and made a peanut butter sandwich so she didn't have to depend on the hot lunch. On the bus, she sat in the seat Jess saved for her and listened to her friend talk up a storm about how she was going to propose a “Quote of the Day” idea to the first meeting of those interested in working for the in-school TV station.

“I've already got twelve ideas,” Jess said.

Kate scanned the quotes in Jess's notebook. “You're going to read these on the morning news?”

Jess arched her eyebrows and nodded enthusiastically.

Kate craned her neck to see if anyone had sat with her brother up front.

“Kate, if you need to sit with him, go ahead,” Jess said.

“Actually, I think someone just sat down with him.”

“Good! I feel so bad for J.T. 'cause of what happened yesterday in the cafeteria,” Jess said. “I prayed about it last night. You know what my first quote on the air will be?”

Warily, Kate shook her head.

“Ephesians 4:32. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other—”

“Jess!” Kate interrupted, “You're not going to quote the Bible on the morning announcements, are you?”

“Yes!” she said, eagerly nodding. “Why not?”

“Are you kidding me? They'll tease you for that! You'll be committing social suicide!”

Jess smiled back with self-assurance. “It doesn't matter. I've thought about this, Kate. I want to make a difference.”

“Are all your quotes going to come from the Bible?”

Jess started to shrug. “Maybe not all of them.”

Kate rolled her eyes. How could Jess be so naïve? “I don't even think you can do this in public school!” she warned.

“Okay, okay. I kind of figured that. But if they say yes, then I will. I mean, why not?”

Kate had to look away. Why indeed? If Jess wanted to quote from the Bible, then she should do it, right? It was who she was, a religious person who had no problem with people knowing it. Kate didn't feel the same, but she hadn't allowed this difference to come between them.

“Look, I just don't want to see you get teased,” Kate said. “They'll call you a Jesus freak or something.”

“I can't help what they think. It's who I am, Kate.”

Kate didn't say anymore. She didn't think the school would allow Bible quotes on the morning news anyway, so it probably
wouldn't be an issue.

When the bus stopped at school, Kate bid good-bye to Jess and rushed to catch up with her brother. “Hey!” she said, touching his elbow. “Someone sat with you this morning!”

J.T. kept walking. “Oh, wow.”

“Come on, you know what I mean. It's a start. I think things will be okay.”

“Yeah.”

Kate stayed by her brother's side until they were inside the front doors. J.T.'s locker was off to the right while Kate's was to the left.

“Good luck today,” she said softly before they separated.

“Thanks,” J.T. mumbled.

But both were stopped by a jarring sight: a banner made of loose-leaf notebook paper that had been taped over a long string hung across the hallway near J.T.'s locker. Large letters in thick black marker read:

THE CHICKEN MAN RETURNS

COWARDS

A
hush fell over the crowded hallway. The chatter, the stream of laughter, the slamming of locker doors—all of it stopped. Kids stepped back to clear a path and watched as Kate and J.T. slowly moved forward.

It was like falling into a trance, Kate thought, a trance of disbelief. She kept thinking that as she got closer, the individual letters would clarify and become something different, or else disappear. Only they didn't. Instead, the letters seemed to grow larger—and more menacing.

THE CHICKEN MAN RETURNS

Kate's mouth went dry. Her heart pounded.

J.T. stood silent beside her.

“Who did this?” Kate asked softly, even though she'd suspected right away it was Curtis. It wasn't like her to make a scene, but shock was quickly turning to anger. “Who did this?” she repeated, her trembling voice a little louder.

Looking around, Kate saw some of the kids shake their heads and shrug. She also heard some giggling and caught a few smirks. But no one said anything.

J.T. remained silent and seemed stunned.

“
Someb
ody
saw!” Kate declared, her voice so loud it surprised even herself. “Who was it?”

“Come on, Kate,” J.T. said, putting his hand on her arm.

But Kate pulled away and stared at the gawking students. And in that moment, she had a crystallized flashback to middle school, the day all of eighth grade sat in the library during Anti-Bullying Week watching the assistant principal draw a diagram on the board. In the middle, he drew a small circle and called it the Victim. In a semicircle around the Victim, other circles appeared: the Students Who Bullied, the Followers, the Passive Bullies, the Disengaged Onlookers, and the Possible Defenders. They were in that circle right now, weren't they? Everyone standing there knew it. How could they not care? Did they think it was
funny
?

Don't stand by—stand up
.

But not a single person did.

“You're all a bunch of cowards!” Kate blurted out, on the verge of tears.

“Kate, please.” J.T. grabbed her arm and tried to lead her away, but Kate wriggled out of his grasp.

“You're going to make it worse!” he whispered harshly.

Kate ignored the warning. She dropped her backpack on the floor and marched over to where the banner was attached at one end with adhesive tape to the wall. The crowd parted to let her through, and everyone watched as Kate reached up to rip off the tape. She walked to the other side of the hall, the banner trailing on the floor behind her, and ripped the other end off. Quickly, noisily, she gathered the papers in her arms, squashing them against her chest, and retrieved her backpack.
She looked for J.T., but he was gone.

People started moving. The show was over.

Or was it? Kate spotted Curtis Jenkins in the crowd. He was partially hidden, but stretching his neck to watch her. There was no question it had been him. Kate recognized the long dirty blond hair brushing his eyes, the ever-present camo shirt, the trademark smirk.

She walked up to him. “Was it you, Curtis?”

Kids began stopping to see what would happen next.

Curtis faked innocence and grinned. He pointed to himself. “Who? Me?”

Hooper Delaney called out, “Whoa, Curtis! Shame on you!” Then he bent over laughing.

Curtis threw up his hands. “I didn't have anything to do with it!”

“You're a liar, Curtis!” It was J.T.'s voice from behind Kate.

Curtis puffed up his chest. “Who's calling me a liar?”

“I am,” J.T. said without flinching. He was a little bit taller than Curtis, but he didn't have the bully's bulk or his muscular arms.

Curtis lifted a fist. “Nobody calls me a liar! Especially not you, Chicken Man.”

J.T. slipped off his backpack and curled his own two hands into fists.

Kate's mouth dropped. This was like a scene out of a movie! She had never seen J.T. curl his fists at anyone in his entire life! She didn't think he even knew how to fight! When Curtis pulled his arm back to throw a punch, Kate dropped the crumpled banner and jumped between the boys.

“Stop!” she screamed at Curtis before whirling around to face her brother. Lowering her voice, she warned, “J.T., if you fight and get in trouble, they'll send you back!”

“Come on, Chicken Man, you gonna let your little sister save you? You a coward, too? A coward and a killer?”

J.T. lunged forward when he heard that, but Kate blocked him, then spun around and used both hands to knock Curtis back, a feat she accomplished only because she took him by surprise.

A teacher clapped loudly. “What's going on here?”

Curtis ducked and slid away into the crowd. Like a snake, Kate thought.

“Kate, do
not
say anything,” J.T. whispered urgently.

The teacher who had clapped stood watching for a few more seconds, then walked back into her classroom.

The crowd cleared out.

“Stay out of it,” J.T. warned Kate again as he gathered his stuff. “I can handle this myself.” He hoisted his backpack and stalked off.

But Kate was not going to stay out of it. After scooping up the crumpled banner, she grabbed her things and headed toward the school's main office.

*

When the buzzer sounded for first period, Kate was still standing at the front counter waiting to talk to the school secretary. Again, she would be late for class, this time her first biology class and lab. But what else could she do? Ignore what happened? If she did, it would continue. It would get worse.

There were at least four others waiting for help in front of her. How long would this take? Nervous, Kate bit her lip. She
hoped that J.T. had gone on to class so at least
he
wouldn't get into trouble.

Eager to get the report done and return to class, Kate tapped her sandaled foot nervously. While she waited, the girl beside her begged to see the school nurse; “Come on, I'm
dying
!” she moaned. Another boy slapped the counter angrily and declared that someone had stolen the hubcaps off his car.

Still Kate waited, clutching the crumpled banner.

“Can I help you?” a woman finally asked.

“I need to talk to the principal,” Kate said bravely.

“What's this about?” the secretary asked. She pushed a pencil into her hair, folded her hands on the counter, and tilted her head as she looked at Kate.

“I need to talk to Mrs. Larkin about a case of bullying,” Kate said. She set the crumpled banner on the counter and started to spread it out.

The secretary didn't even look at the banner. “Did someone get injured?” she asked.

“No,” Kate replied, but then changed her mind because J.T.'s feelings had surely been hurt. “I mean yes! My brother!”

“Where is he?”

Kate had no idea of J.T.'s schedule. “In class somewhere.”

“Does he need medical attention?”

It was Kate's turn to frown. “No . . .”

The secretary considered these answers. Then she walked to her desk, where she pulled out a drawer and returned to hand Kate a piece of paper.

Kate glanced at it: “Bullying, Cyberbullying, Harassment, or Intimidation Reporting Form.”

“Fill this out and bring it back to the office,” she said.

Kate hadn't realized she would have to fill out a form. She'd thought she could talk to someone. She
wanted
to talk to someone.

The form was two pages long and full of little boxes to check.

Name of Alleged Off
ender:

Is he/she a s
tudent? Yes / No

Pla
ce an x next to the
statement that best
describes what happe
ned:

Any bullying
, cyberbullying, har
assment, or intimida
tion that involves p
hysical aggression

Getting another perso
n to hit or harm the
student

Teasing,
name-calling, makin
g critical remarks,
or threatening, in p
erson or by other me
ans

That last one certainly fit, Kate thought. So did the next one.

Demeaning
and making the vict
im of jokes

She set her purse on the counter beside the crumpled banner and rummaged in a side pocket of her backpack for a pen so she could fill in the information.

“Wait a minute,” the secretary said, stopping her. “What's your name?”

“Kate Tyler.”

“Kate, listen to me, hon,” the secretary said. “Take the form with you. Fill it out. Then return it to the office.”

“But you have to do something
now
!”

The secretary held up both hands. “Take your time. Fill out the form and bring it back. That is the protocol. We need the form.”

Protocol. That word again:
the rules of appropr
iate behavior
. “But this boy—”

“Look,” the secretary's voice was firm when she cut Kate off. “Give us the information we need, and we'll follow up on it.”

“What about the banner?” Kate asked, gently lifting the pile of papers.

But the secretary had moved on down the counter to the next student, who couldn't get his locker open.

Kate was a mix of anger, frustration, and now, disappointment. Pressed together, her lips made a tight line. Quickly, she gathered up the banner and left. She would take the form home and fill it out. She would follow the rules, the
protocol
, and Curtis Jenkins would be punished. Maybe even suspended.

On her way out of the office, Kate angrily stuffed the banner into the wastebasket, then, three steps into the hall, changed her mind and returned to pull it out, even taking the time to sit for a minute, smoothing out the papers and folding them so they'd fit into her backpack.

When she finished, she realized she was twenty minutes late for class and, shoulders slumped, returned to the counter to wait for a late pass.