Elvis and the Underdogs (5 page)

“I'm not weak. I'm sickly, and that's not totally my fault. But being a jerk is definitely . . .”

Billy got up on his feet and stood over me. I shut my mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut and prepared for the pummeling I was probably about to receive. Note to self: trying to reason with a jerk can actually make the jerk jerkier. Luckily, someone came into the bathroom before Billy could prove my new theory.

Apparently, Grady the janitor had volunteered to check for alien monsters in the boys' bathroom to calm everyone down. He found Billy standing over me.

“What's going on in here?” Grady asked.

Billy answered before I could. “This helmet head freaked out and fell on his face. I was just about to help him up.”

I just stared up at Billy. How could he lie so easily? Grady was no fool, and he knew better than to trust anything coming out of Billy's mouth, so he looked down at me for confirmation.

Suddenly I was faced with one of those moments of truth you come up against as a kid. I could either tell the truth and hope for justice, or I could keep my mouth shut and hope that if I didn't poke the bear and make it even angrier, I'd get out of fourth grade at some point. Alive.

“I g-guess I-I-I fell down. Somehow . . .,” I stammered.

You know that expression you hear about how the truth hurts? Well, I figured maybe it wasn't the best day to get hurt any more than I already was.

“Well, don't just stand there, help the kid up,” Grady said.

“You help him up. I'm late for class.”

Billy turned and walked out of the bathroom. Grady watched him go, shaking his head and muttering something that I didn't catch, but I'm sure it was something you're not supposed to say about a kid. I held up my one good hand.

“Hey, Grady. Do you think you can help me up? I hurt my arm.”

“Did Billy do this to you? That kid is no good with a capital
N
and a capital
G
.” He grabbed my good hand and pulled me up on my feet.

“Kinda. It was partly an accident, because Billy freaked out when he saw my helmet. But then he kicked me afterward. So much for the saying, Don't kick a man when he's down.”

“Yup, that sounds about right.”

“I just don't understand why he's so mean.”

Grady patted my shoulder. “There are always a few really mean kids out there. So what's up with that helmet thing you're wearing? Is it to protect you from Billy?”

That was actually a pretty funny idea. Maybe I should start a business selling antibully helmets. “No, it's a long story.”

“We've all got one.” Grady nodded.

By then Principal Kriesky had been alerted, and I heard someone outside in the hallway yell out, “Principal Kriesky, over here!” Two seconds later he walked into the bathroom. Taking one look at my arm, which was already swelling up around the wrist, he made a face and shook his head. I knew exactly what he was feeling: complete and utter dread. Now he had to call my mom and tell her to meet us at the emergency room.

Grady volunteered to drive me, but Principal Kriesky said he thought it would be better if he did it, mainly because Grady has a pacemaker. I think he was nervous my mom's reaction would be the end of him. I'd never been in Principal Kriesky's car before. I was pretty excited and asked to ride in the front seat.

“Benji, I'm going to try to get you back into your mother's care without further incident, so let's err on the side of safety, shall we?” he answered.

We pulled into the emergency room parking lot, and as we approached, I saw my mom's car parked right in front.

“Hey, that looks like my mom's car. I wonder if she's . . .”

I wasn't able to finish my sentence, because suddenly she was running alongside the car.

“What happened? What about our talk this morning? You assured me Benji would be fine, and less than a half hour later I get a call from the helmet people saying that the helmet has been activated? Did he have another seizure? What are you doing just sitting there? Answer me. Is my baby okay?”

I couldn't help myself. I knew she wasn't talking to me, but I had to speak up. “Mom, stop calling me a baby!”

My mom all but dragged Principal Kriesky out of his car and pulled the seat forward so I could get out. When I didn't appear right away, my mom came in after me. Suddenly the whole backseat was filled with her big blond hair.

“Benji? Benji! What is—OH MY GOD! LOOK AT YOUR ARM! MY POOR BABY. ARE YOU OKAY? WHY AREN'T YOU MOVING? WHAT HAPPENED? SAY SOMETHING? TALK TO ME! WHAT HAPPENED? WHO DID THIS TO YOU? SAY SOMETHING!”

“Mom! How can I say anything if you don't give me a chance? Stop screaming in my face. Please. I'm fine. I just need help unbuckling my seat belt and getting out of the car. Isn't this the coolest car you've ever seen? When I grow up, this is the exact car I want.”

My mom unbuckled me and pulled me out of the backseat, and pretty soon I was standing outside in the bright morning sunlight.

“Mom, it wasn't his fault. In fact, it wasn't even Billy Thompson's fault. I mean what happened to my arm. He didn't even know it was me in the bathroom. I was hiding in the bathroom, and he didn't know I was in the stall when he kicked it open. I guess maybe you should talk to him about the proper way human beings open a bathroom stall, which is with their hands and not their feet. But maybe he's a germophobe. But then later he spit on me, and then he kicked me. That part was his fault.”

“Why were you hiding in the bathroom? Billy Thompson did this? I swear I'm going to go over to his house to talk to his parents so this . . .”

I should never have brought up his name in front of my mother! Normally I'd know better, but I think I was light-headed from the pain in my wrist. It was throbbing so hard I could feel it in my ears. My mom hasn't been a fan of Billy Thompson ever since he wrote on me with the Magic Marker. The day she saw it, he'd written
DUMY
on my neck. But he'd spelled it wrong, with only one
m
, which really made me question how he managed to make it to the third grade with such terrible spelling skills.

“Mom, my wrist really hurts. Can we just go inside, please?”

“Of course, baby.”

“
Mom
.” I sighed.

I waved to Principal Kriesky and watched him get back into his cool car. Then I followed my mother inside. For just a second I wondered, even with everything that had happened, if I'd rather be at school today than back at the hospital. I thought about it and decided I didn't really want to be at school or the hospital. But being only ten years old, I didn't have any other options. What I really longed for was something new and different. Like maybe a spaceship beaming me up to hang out with friendly, non-human-eating aliens who wanted me to give a talk about what it's like to be a human. Or at the very least, I just wanted something to look forward to, like maybe pancakes for dinner.

It's funny how life works out
. As much grief as Billy Thompson has given me, it turns out that on this particular occasion, Billy kicking open the bathroom stall door was one of the best things that ever happened to me. It was because of him, and my sprained wrist, that I got my therapy dog.

I remember the conversation so clearly. We were waiting in radiology so they could get X-rays of my arm, and my mom was trying to spoon-feed me some frozen yogurt from the cafeteria.

“Mom, I still have one good hand that can operate a spoon,” I said.

“Now, Benji, baby. I want you to start from the beginning and tell me everything that happened. Don't be afraid of what I might think, okay?”

I nodded and opened my mouth to speak, but she stuffed some more fro-yo in my mouth and just continued talking.

“Did this happen because of the helmet? It did, didn't it? I'm so sorry. Kids can be so mean sometimes. If I could get my hands on that Billy! I just don't understand why he constantly goes after you.”

“Mom, he goes after everyone, trust me. Though I do think I'm one of his favorites. He didn't even know I was in there. I swear.” Sure I wasn't a fan of Billy's, but there was no sense in getting the kid in trouble for a crime he didn't even commit. And case in point, my mom, like probably every other mom in the fourth grade, overreacted as soon as she even heard his name.

“Don't defend him, Benji. You said he kicked you and spit on you. And why were you hiding anyway? What I'm trying to say is perhaps you were right. Maybe this helmet thing is never going to work out. Maybe it's just like strapping a neon sign on you and sending you to the wolves. I'm going to talk to your dad and Dr. Helen about getting you a therapy dog.”

My mouth, which was open, shut very quickly. Interesting. I hadn't even told her what happened, and she'd assumed I got picked on because of the ugly helmet. That wasn't exactly true. Sure, the whole thing wouldn't have happened if I wasn't wearing the helmet, but it wasn't exactly because of the helmet in the way my mom thought it was. Probably not. Okay, definitely not. Now, here was my dilemma. I'm not big on lying. And I'm especially not big on lying to my mom, mainly because I know she knows when I am and she gets so disappointed in me, and she has to deal with so much because of me, I hate to make her any more disappointed than she already is. I'm also against lying to my dad, but not as much. I'm totally for lying to the twins, but that's only because I sometimes have no choice. It's for my own protection—basically my survival instinct kicking in.

“Mom, I think you're right. If I had a therapy dog, this definitely would not have happened.” There. That was definitely not a lie.

“I knew it. Oh, this is all my fault. If I hadn't been so stubborn. If I hadn't worried about your allergies, the money, and my living room rug, we wouldn't be here right now. I'm so sorry, baby. Can you ever forgive me?”

This is normally where I correct her from calling me “baby.” But I let this one go. Yikes, this wasn't the reaction I was hoping for. I assumed she'd be like “Great, we're getting a dog. What should we name him or her?” I didn't think she'd blame herself. I mean, in the grand scheme of all my ailments, a hurt arm is barely a blip on the radar. I probably have to wear it wrapped for only a few days, which I'm sure I could use to get me out of PE for at least a month.

“Mom, it's not your fault. None of this is your fault. You're the best mom in the whole world. I'd nominate you if I could, and you'd win, and then we could put your trophy on the mantel.”

“No, no, I'm not. You're the best son in the world. I'm a terrible mother. Well, that's not true, I'm an amazing mother, but sometimes even amazing mothers make mistakes. I should have gone with my gut. I knew the helmet was not going to end well, and I should have just listened to my inner voice.”

“So can we get a dog?”

“Well, I've got to talk to your father first.”

This is actually something my mom likes to say a lot, but in the whole history of my life on this planet, I have never once experienced my dad saying no to my mom about anything she wants. It's not that Dad's a big pushover. Well, he is, but he's not a wimp about it. He just thinks my mom is supersmart and capable, and he knows that if she thinks it's the right thing to do, then it probably is.

My mom went to find Dr. Helen, while I waited for my name to be called. She told me to think about what kind of banana split I wanted, because right after the hospital we were heading over to SuperDuperScooper.

“Can I have five cherries?”

“Don't push your luck. You can have two.”

“Three?”

“Two.”

“Okay, two it is. That's all I really wanted anyway, Mom.” I was fine with two. I could have pushed her to get three, but now that I was getting my dog, the number of cherries didn't matter so much.

About five minutes passed, and I was busy finding hidden objects in a picture in an old
Highlights
magazine. I found everything almost immediately, and I couldn't believe there was a time when I'd struggled to find everything. I heard him before I saw him. It was Dino's booming voice, but this wasn't the regular, happy Dino—this was something else entirely. I had never heard him talk like this before.

“I'm telling you this is a waste of time,” he said.

“She's
my
daughter, and I know what's good for her.”

“Yeah, well, she's my favorite niece, and I think I know a little more than you when it comes to this sort of thing.”

“You're not even a doctor. You're just a nurse.”

I hadn't looked up from my magazine, mainly because I was a chicken and there's nothing I hate more than people yelling, but curiosity finally won out. What I saw was surprising, because I'm always used to Dino being the biggest guy in every room. The man arguing with Dino was even taller and wider than Dino. They looked like they were related. I remembered Dino telling me that he had a much older half brother. Maybe this was him.