EllRay Jakes The Recess King! (7 page)

12

HIGH PRESSURE SYSTEM

“Settle down, everyone,” Ms. Sanchez says after she has taken attendance and put on her science apron. It's the sight of that apron that got us excited, because she usually plans really fun experiments for us to do. And the ones that don't work out the exact way she planned can be even better. Messier, but better.

Which is why she wears the apron.

“Now, you may have noticed how windy it is outside,” Ms. Sanchez begins, perching on the front of her desk, as usual.

“Goo-goo, gah-gah,” Heather murmurs, swapping baby glances with Cynthia.

“Shh,” Annie Pat whispers, scowling. She and Emma want to be scientists when they grow up, and they probably think Heather and Cynthia are trying to mess with the lesson. Which they are.

“Shh, yourself,” Cynthia whispers back, shrugging to show how bored she is with Annie Pat—and with science, for that matter.

“So,” Ms. Sanchez continues, “does anyone know
why
it's windy outside?”

Wow, I think, and my eyes are big with surprise. That is just what I was asking my mom!

Stanley Washington's hand shoots up.

“Yes, Stanley?” Ms. Sanchez says.

“It's windy because the weather-guesser on TV
said
it would be windy,” he says.

“I think they prefer to be called
meteorologists
, not
weather-guessers
,” Ms. Sanchez says, laughing. “And before anyone asks, the term ‘meteorology' comes from an ancient Greek word that refers to any event taking place in the sky. That's how meteors got their name, I suppose, since they are one thing that can happen in the sky. But what
weather-related events
take place in our earth's atmosphere?”

Emma raises her hand. “Rain?” she says after Ms. Sanchez calls on her.

Emma can make things sound like questions even when they aren't.

“That's right,” Ms. Sanchez says. “And snow, and—”

“And UFOs,” Jared Matthews says, excited enough to interrupt.

“Like, with space aliens inside?” Heather asks, forgetting for a second to be a baby.

“Raise your hands, please,” Ms. Sanchez reminds them. “And let's leave UFOs and space aliens for another lesson. Probably not science,” she adds, laughing again. “We've got our hands full today with the weather. We were talking about— ”

“
The wind,
” a few kids say together, finishing her sentence the way she sometimes wants us to. We can always tell when.

“Right,” Ms. Sanchez says. “And it's windy today because the air pressure is trying to adjust itself after the rain. It likes to be nice and balanced. So the air pressure is trying to move from the
high pressure system
of the cold, heavy rainstorm we had last night to a lighter and and more normal
low pressure system
today. And that's what is making the wind blow.”

Annie Pat raises her hand. “But you can't really see air pressure, right?” she asks after Ms. Sanchez calls on her. “Except when the wind blows?”

“That's right, Annie Pat,” Ms. Sanchez says, smiling at her. “But you are seeing the
effects
of air pressure when the wind blows, not seeing the air pressure itself. Sometimes you can feel air pressure, though. Did any of you ever get to fly in an airplane when you were a baby?”

Lots of hands shoot up into the air. Even mine, because we flew to see my grandparents once. I don't remember it, but I've seen the pictures.

There still used to be paper photographs when I was a baby. Pictures weren't just on people's phones or cameras, like now.

“And did one or two of you get an earache in the plane?” Ms. Sanchez asks.

Corey raises his hand. “My mom said I did, once,” he reports, sounding proud. “She said I screamed and screamed when we were landing, and people gave her dirty looks. So she gave me a bottle.”

“Ooo,” a couple of the girls say. One of them pats Corey's back, as if his plane just now landed, and he might still need comforting.

Next, they'll probably want him to join their goo-goo, gah-gah baby club.

Good luck with
that.

“Your poor little ears hurt because of the air pressure change in the plane's cabin,” Ms. Sanchez tells Corey. “It's something babies grow out of, thank goodness. But that's what we'll be talking about this morning, people: air pressure. And we have three air pressure experiments to get through. So come on up here, Cynthia,” she says. “And Corey, too. And—how about EllRay? We need three students with good sets of lungs to blow up a few balloons.”

“Don't wanna,” Cynthia says, turning into a baby again. She sinks down in her chair like she's melting.
“Wah-h-h,”
she fake-cries, peeking around to see how we're taking it.

“I didn't ask if you wanted to, Miss Harbison,” Ms. Sanchez says. She still sounds pretty cheerful, in spite of everything. “And remember,” our teacher adds. “This is a science class, not a drama class.”

She says that when someone—usually one of the girls—starts acting up.

Wait until Alfie is in her class!

“But I'm feepy,” Cynthia says in baby talk, cradling her arms on her desk and putting her head down for a pretend nap.

“Poor widdle baby,” Heather says, petting her arm. “So
cute.
”

“Not cute at all,” Ms. Sanchez says, snapping out the words. “And
right—now,
” she adds, clicking both fingers as she speaks. “Also, no more baby talk, if you please, ladies—or I'll send out for a few jars of strained lima beans, and we'll see how you like
that.
Hurry,” she adds, her usually warm voice turning cool. “Tick-tock.”

Uh-oh. There's a high pressure system building up.

Cynthia hurries.

And we begin our three air pressure experiments.

“I liked the trick where Jared and Emma jammed their straw into the potato,” Stanley says as we paw through our cubbies, getting out snacks for morning recess.

“We did it using air pressure,” Annie Pat points out, shrugging her arms into her jacket. “And it was an experiment, not a trick.”

“If you say so,” Stanley says, laughing.

“I
do
say so,” Annie Pat tells him.

“I liked the trick where Ms. Sanchez made the hard-boiled egg squeeze into the bottle,” Jared says. “Like magic.
Pop!
”

“Using air pressure,” Annie Pat says again.

Give it up, I think, hiding a smile. I zip up my dark blue San Diego Padres sweatshirt and give my backpack—and the hidden library book inside—a friendly pat. Ms. Sanchez says that the meteorological event happening outside now is that it's drizzling. I can't risk getting drizzle all over the book.

I'll wait until lunch to bring it outside, but it has to happen today.

Because I am running out of time.

Drizzly mornings are perfect for kickball and foursquare, though—and also for yelling and running around. My legs are itching to run, in fact.

“Did you eat your snack yet?” Marco asks, jamming a few little plastic bags into his sweatshirt pouch.

“Most of it,” I admit.

“EllRay likes to chow down before school even starts,” Corey tells Marco, laughing. “You know. Get it over with so he can play more. He even eats what he's gonna have for lunch, sometimes.”

“Hey. I eat half my lunch before school,” Major says to me, amazed at the coincidence.

“Huh,” I say, grinning at him. “I should try that, so I don't starve by the time school is out. Anyway, Corey should talk,” I tell Major and Marco, giving Corey a shove. “He's
always
eating. His mom packs him twice as much food as normal, that's the thing. And it's all healthy.”

“It's true,” Corey tells Marco and Major, a smile spreading across his friendly, freckled face. “I love to eat. And my mom says if you eat healthy, you can eat more.”

I look around to see where Diego is, but he's probably already outside, playing.

Your life is about to change for the better, Diego Romero. So get ready!

“I'll share,” Marco tells me, keeping his voice low.

“Huh?”

“I'll share my snack with you if you're hungry,” he says, repeating the offer. “I've got string cheese in one bag, and some mini muffins in the other bag. My mom made 'em. And I brought some of my knights to play with, too.”

“I like all that stuff,” I admit as we churn out the door.

Okay. My stomach is officially gurgling now.

“You even like the knights?” Marco shouts over the noise in the hall. “I've got a couple of dragons, too!”

“He does have dragons,” Major says. “He'll even share.”

“I
guess
I like them,” I say as we run outside. I scan the playground first for my future friend Diego, who is nowhere to be seen. Then I look for Mr. Havens. He is handing out kickballs slowly, like he's a Santa Claus who is running out of presents.

Are any kickballs going to be left?

And if there are, will Mr. Havens give me one—after what happened yesterday?

I don't think so.

“I'll take a muffin, I guess,” I tell Marco, shrugging. “If you really mean it.”

“Why wouldn't I mean it?” Marco asks, pulling a plastic bag from his sweatshirt pouch. He hands me not one but
two
little muffins. Yum! I peel the paper off one and cram it into my mouth.

“C'mon, you guys,” Corey yells. “It looks like there's only one kickball left—and we gotta score it!”

“Race ya,” Major shouts.

“Yeah. Race ya,” Marco says.

“Mmph,” I say, sputtering muffin crumbs.

And all four of us take off running across the wet playground, our sneakers flashing.

13

KEEP-AWAY

“The sun is shining,” Kry says at lunchtime, as if we can't see out the window ourselves.

But we don't mind it when she tells us obvious stuff. Everyone likes Kry.

I turn my back to the other kids in the cubby area. I wiggle the foil-wrapped library book out of my backpack. The book is bigger than I remember. But it's flat—compared to yesterday's lumpy roll of toilet paper, anyway.

I slide the wrapped-up library book under my sweatshirt.

There. Do I look perfectly normal?

No, I do not. In fact, I look like I am wearing a bulletproof vest under my sweatshirt, like some guy on a TV show. Or maybe I look like I'm wearing a thin suit of armor. Marco will think I'm a secret knight—but a lot bigger than the plastic ones he sneaks to school.

It's cool being bigger than
something
.

But Diego is gonna think this book is great, so it's all worth it.

I'm just one small step away from having my plan come true. I
am
going to be the recess king! I will invite Diego to come to Alfie's show tomorrow night. Then we'll all go out for pizza—or ice cream. Whichever he likes best.

Especially if it's what Alfie likes best, too.

We'll be friends
for sure
. And then no matter how busy Corey is with swim practice, or how much fun Kevin is having with the neighbor kids, I'll always have a cool spare friend to hang with.

I can work on digging up a spare-spare friend after that, once I rest up from finding this one.

I don't want to brag, but I think I am turning into a good idea guy.

Outside, puffy white clouds are bouncing around the cold blue sky the same way that we kids are bouncing around the playground. “Hey EllRay. Over here,” Kevin says from one of the boys' picnic tables. And so I hold the library book in place and trot over, covering my chest the best I can with my lunch bag.

Most of the guys are already at the table. The ones who aren't eating in the cafeteria, anyway. But my theory is that you miss out on too much playground time when you eat in the cafeteria. It just doesn't make sense.

This is Oak Glen, California, after all. Not the North Pole.

Even Jason is sitting at the picnic table, but he's been pretty much ignoring me since yesterday. Oh, well.

“EllRay's running funny,” Jared calls out, laughing in his
haw-haw
way.

“Like a girl,” Stanley adds. But
he wishes
he could run like Kry Rodriguez does.

Well, he doesn't really wish that. But he is not as good a runner as Kry.

I'm just saying.

“I'm trying to stay warm,” I pretend-explain, still hugging my sweatshirt—and the book—to my chest. I squeeze in between Diego and Kevin. Diego is sitting at the end of the bench, which is perfect. I try to paw through my lunch bag with my right hand, while still holding the foil-wrapped library book to my chest with my left hand.

It's at a time like this when a person could use three hands, in my opinion.

All that's left of my lunch is a banana, some cheese squares, and three oatmeal cookies that are so small an elf could munch them down without any problem. That's Mom's latest thing, making food small, especially treats. So an actual person has to eat a ton of them for it to come out right.

Dang
, I'm hungry.

But I am also excited, because of my excellent plan.

I slide a miniature oatmeal cookie into my mouth, and the book under my sweatshirt slips a little.

“Watcha got there?” Jared asks, spying a triangle corner of the foil-wrapped book. “Treats?”

Jared is always hungry. Well, most of us guys are. We're like sharks, who are “eating machines,” Annie Pat tells us. She wants to be a fish scientist when she grows up, so she knows stuff like that.

As I said before, the best things to eat at Oak Glen Primary School—like leftover birthday cake—usually come wrapped in aluminum foil. So Jared thinks he's really onto something.

“It
is
treats,” he tells the whole table of boys. “And EllRay's hogging.”

“I am not hogging,” I say, my heart starting to thud.

This is not going the way I thought it would, that's for sure. Oh, it's not going
terrible
, because what do I care if the guys in my class discover I checked out a library book about cars? It's not like I sneaked in a Barbie encyclopedia or something.

Which Alfie would just love, by the way.

This was going to be a private thing between Diego and me, but I decide to get it over with. “Look. I'll show you,” I tell everyone at the table. I pull out the foil-wrapped book from under my sweatshirt. I start to unwrap a corner while I hold the book up for everyone to see. I sneak a look at Diego. “It's this really cool—”

“Gingerbread!” Jared says, reaching across the table like lightning, and grabbing the foil-wrapped package from my hands. “A whole slab of it! And EllRay wasn't even gonna share!”

Jared untangles himself from the picnic table bench and takes off with his prize,
my book
, shouting, “Gingerbread!” He is holding the library book over his head like a trophy as he runs. Stanley, Jason, and Kevin take off after him, laughing.

Gingerbread
? He
saw
part of the cover! And that book's as hard as a rock.

Well, as hard as a book, anyway.

A
library
book.

Taken out in
my name.

Dollar signs, and scoldings from my parents—
and the librarian—
pop into my head like cartoon thought-balloons. And before I know it, I'm chasing my book's kidnappers, even though chasing Jared is probably exactly what he wants me to do.

But I can't help it.

I don't even look to see if anyone's following me.

“Haw, haw, haw,”
Jared donkey-laughs again, seeing me come after him. He starts shedding pieces of aluminum foil as he runs. He doesn't even care about the litter lecture we're sure to get from Mr. Havens, who is still the substitute recess monitor. I think maybe the regular guy ran away from school.

Where is Mr. Havens, by the way?

“Hey,” Jared is shouting now, shaking the library book in his big pink hand as he runs. “What it this, anyway? A
book
?”

He sounds angry, like I really put one over on him.

“Yeah, it's a book,
Einstein
,” I yell, pounding after him. “A library book. You can't eat it. So give it here!”

Jared stops for a minute, waggling the book as he holds it out toward me. “Come and get it,” he says, in a mocking voice.

And then he hurls it through the air to Stanley, his personal assistant.

“Keep-away!” Jared cries.

“Keep-away,” Stanley echoes.

Okay, I think, crouching low like a ninja as I plan my attack. Keep-away is something that is supposed to be a game. Except really, it's usually just big kids being mean to smaller kids.

And unfortunately, today, I happen to be the smaller kid involved.

A really fair “game,” right?

Where's Merlyn when you need him? He could turn Jared into a bug!

The script for keep-away never changes. There are only three sure-fire lines.

1. There's
“Keep
-
away!”
and

2.
“Give it here,”
and

3. “Come and get it!”

That's about it.

Stanley tosses my library book to Jason, and its pages flutter as it flies through the air. “Come and get it,” Jason shouts, barely holding onto the book—even though the grassy hill is muddy from the rain.

As if he can read my mind, Jason opens up the book and puts it on his head like a funny hat. “
La-la-la-la-la,
” he chants, prancing around. “Look at me! I'm so
beautiful
. Hope I don't drop this thing. And thanks for gettin' me in trouble yesterday, dude,” he adds, being Jason again.

Jason Leffer, who was going to be my new spare friend.

“I didn't mean to,” I say, barely aware of the kids moving up behind me. “How did I know that little guy was gonna spring a leak and bring us all down? Come on, Jason. Give it here,” I say, holding out my puny Tyrannosaurus-rex hands.

“Keep-away,” Jason jeers, tossing the book back to Jared.

It cartwheels through the air in slow motion.

And that's when the kids behind me spring into action. “Get it,” Corey shouts, making a side run around Stanley and heading toward Jared. Jared is not a very fast thinker in situations like this.

He's big, but he is “definitely not quarterback material,” as my dad would probably put it. We watch a lot of football together.

And out from behind my other side sprint Nate, Major, Marco, Kevin, and Diego. That's a total of six kids on my side.
Six whole kids.

Seven, counting me. Seven against three!

I had no idea I had so many friends.

There's no time to feel happy about it, though. “Come and get it,” Jared shouts for the second time. But he is now keeping a wary eye on the line of fierce-faced kids heading his way.

Stanley looks like he has changed his mind about the whole keep-away thing, but Jason's still in.
Wow
, he must really be mad at me. “Throw it here,” Jason yells to Jared. He claps his hands a couple of times, to warm them up for the big catch, I guess.

So much for pizza and ice cream, dog. And for me teaching you the secrets to
Die, Creature, Die
.

“Don't come any closer,” Jared warns my friends, but they creep toward him anyway, like silent warriors. I'm heading his way, too.

We approach our enemy. Like I said, my loyal army consists of:

1. Corey Robinson.

2. Kevin McKinley.

3. Nate Marshall.

4. Major Donaldson.

5. Marco Adair.

6. Diego Romero, my maybe new spare friend.

7. And me, EllRay Jakes.

“Stop right there, or I'm gonna throw this dumb book on the ground,” Jared shouts. His eyes look a little wild.