EllRay Jakes Is Not a Chicken (9 page)

He's very sensitive about stuff like that.

“No, nothing,” I mumble. “It's okay.”

“Speak up, son,” my dad reminds me. “Be proud of what you have to say.”

“I
am
proud,” I tell him, even though my heart is thudding so hard you can almost see my T-shirt jump. “But Jared tripped me by accident, Dad. Accidents happen, right? That's where the expression comes from.”

Sure, I could get Jared in trouble right now by telling on him.

Sure, I could even say he's picking on me because I'm black.

But it's not that!
Jared would have said something if it was. He is not the type of kid to keep things to himself. That much is obvious.

Anyway, there are plenty of other things that could be make him want to pick on me. Like, I'm the shortest kid in class, so I'm the easiest to pick on.

And I get all the laughs, so maybe he's jealous.

In fact, I'm better at just about everything at school—except being big—than Jared is.

Or, like I said before, there could be no reason at all. Just him being bored because Christmas is over.

“And you're really all right?” my dad asks, looking me up and down—which doesn't take very much time at all, for obvious reasons.

I nod my head.

“But—why didn't you mention it to your mom or me, EllRay?” Dad asks. “I just don't understand. I certainly think falling flat on your face in class is a worse thing than dropping your sandwich at lunch.”

“But dropping my sandwich meant I was hungry all afternoon,” I explain, still lying my head off. “And you're not supposed to argue about another person's good or bad,” I remind him, even though I probably shouldn't.

Dad sighs. “Well, you have a point there,” he finally admits. “But I want you to promise that you'll tell your mother or me if this problem with Jared continues, okay? Because we want to nip this sort of thing in the bud.”

I'm not exactly sure what that expression means, but I get the general idea. “I promise,” I tell him, crossing my fingers behind my back.

I don't like lying to my dad, but in this case, it's for his own good.

Also, it's for the good of Disneyland.

“Can I leave now?” I ask. “Because I have homework to do, and I don't want to get behind.”

My father looks at me for one long minute. Behind his glasses, his brown eyes still look troubled. “All right, son,” he says slowly. “If you're sure everything is really okay at school.”

“It is,” I tell him. But I pause with my hand on the doorknob and look back. “Thanks, Dad,” I say, because all of a sudden, for the very first time, it occurs to me that it is probably hard for him to be him, just the way it's hard for me to be me. He's so prickly and proud, and then he's got all those rocks to lug around.

Maybe
it's hard for him, anyway.

It's
FRIDAY
, and as I walk to school, I realize that I am just about worn out from behaving so well.

I can last one more day, however. And then—
YA-HOO!

But it takes me only a few minutes at school to realize that all the grown-ups at Oak Glen are now on the alert for trouble between Jared and me. I guess word gets around. Ms. Sanchez's word, anyway—or maybe my dad's. Who knows?

Our principal is greeting kids on the front steps of the school, as usual. He is very tall, and he has a beard, and you can see him from far away—so it is usually easy to avoid him.

But not today.

“Morning, EllRay,” he calls out in a booming voice over the heads of the hurrying kids, and I freeze on the second step from the top. He wades through the kids until he reaches my side. “How's every little thing?” he asks me.

Little.
Is he making fun of me because I'm so short? I don't think so, but I'm not really sure.

“Every little thing is fine,” I say, looking w-a-a-a-y up at him.

I am never growing a beard, that's for sure. He probably has to shampoo it, and then maybe even use a hair dryer on it. And what about when he eats? Do potato chip crumbs get caught in all that hair?

“Well, I'm just checking in,” the principal says, scanning me up and down again with his eyes to make sure I'm really okay.

“Okay. Bye,” I say.

The principal narrows his eyes, gives me a searching look, and then turns to say, “Morning!” to some other lucky kid.

And I climb the last step and prepare to get fwacked on Friday.

But maybe I won't get fwacked, I think, allowing myself to hope. Maybe grown-ups being on the alert will save me—for this one last day, at least.

And after today, who cares?

“You told,” Jared whispers, jamming me up against the BEE CAREFUL! WALK, DON'T RUN! poster with bumblebees on it in the hallway.

“Did not,” I tell him, even though his chunky arm with orange freckles on it is pressing hard against my chest.

“Did too,” Jared mutters, scowling. “The principal said ‘Hi' to me this morning in a weird way.”

“I didn't tell,” I say again. “Ms. Sanchez guessed, I guess. But I didn't say anything to her, or to my parents, either.”

“Hello, boys,” the office lady says as she walks by holding a mug of steaming hot coffee. She pauses. “Is everything okay?” she asks, looking at me, not Jared.

“Everything's fine,” I tell her. “See?” I whisper to Jared when she finally walks away. “I never told
anyone
that you're mad at me for no reason.”

“I do too have a reason, and you know it,” Jared tells me.

“I do not know it,” I say as the kids bounce around us like bumper cars at the county fair. “I never did anything bad to you. In fact, I try to ignore you every chance I get. I'd be doing it now, if I could.”

Jared leans in, his green eyes shining. “Well, what about that time you made me look stupid in front of Heather Patton?” he asks, as if this will prove once and for all how right he is to keep going after me.

“
What
time I made you look stupid?” I ask.

What I am really thinking is that he doesn't need any help from me to look stupid in front of
anyone
. But I decide not to say this, because I'm pretty sure it would only make our troubles worse.

“Right before Christmas,” he says, getting mad all over again just thinking about it. “You drew that stupid picture of me and then passed it around. And she saw it. And it was right before my birthday, too, and it kinda hurt my feelings.”

This last part about the hurt feelings comes out in a mumble.

Okay.

1. First, I barely even remember drawing that picture, it was so long ago.

2. And second, it was a joke.

3. And third, how was I supposed to know it was almost Jared's birthday? It's not like he invited me to his party or anything!

4. And fourth, I am not a very good artist, so it probably didn't even look like Jared.

5. And fifth, what does Jared care what Heather thinks?

And most important of all,
who knew Jared Matthews had feelings
?

Heather Patton is that girl with the too-tight ponytail, in case you forgot. The girl who hangs around with Cynthia, that clean girl I was telling you about.

“I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings,” I tell him, actually meaning it—but only a little.

“Shut up about my feelings, dude!” he bellows, forgetting for a second to be quiet, he is so mad.

“What else can I say?” I ask him, shrugging, even though my heart is pounding.

“Nothing,” he says, easing off a little as he sees the principal coming toward us down the hall in that fast walk grown-ups do when they don't want to look silly by running.

“Okay, then,” I say in a hurry.

“I won't touch you during school today,
tattletale EllRay
,” Jared whispers, “but you better meet me in Pennypacker Park right after school, if you know what's good for you. So I can beat you up.”

Only Jared could say something like this and think it makes sense, because why would someone know what's good for them
and
want to get beat up?

But you know what? I think I'm going to do it.

I'll go.

And I'm going to
FIGHT BACK!

Because then, the whole trouble between Jared Matthews and me will be over with once and for all, and we can start living our normal lives again—whatever those lives were like. I can barely remember.

And even if someone catches us fighting, my dad can't yank Disneyland away from me, because
the fight won't be in school.

It's going to be
after
school

I will have kept my part of the bargain.

I don't know who Eustace B. Pennypacker is, or was, but he has a terrible park. It's mostly just boring green grass with clover and bees, and a bunch of trees.

You'd think he could have thrown in a playground while he was at it, but
NO
.

That is why, even though this park is only a block away from our school, kids hardly ever hang out there.

It is probably also why Jared chose the park for our final fight.

No one will see us, and no one will ever find out what happened the afternoon before EllRay Jakes went to Disneyland, sore—but
happy
.

No one except Jared's loyal friend and robot Stanley Washington.

Oops. I forgot about him.

That's okay, though, because even if Stanley takes a swing at me too, I'll be getting whomped so hard by Jared that I probably won't even notice.