Mitch and Amy (12 page)

“You stop that!” Amy yelled across the playground, as she ran toward Alan. She stopped in front of him, planted her hands on her hips, and said fiercely, “You can't eat my cupcakes.
I need them for Scouts this afternoon.”

Alan popped the last bite of cupcake into his mouth and licked a bit of frosting from his fingers before he said, “Hm-m. Not bad.”

Amy was almost but not quite speechless with rage. “Didn't you hear me? I said
you can't eat my cupcakes
.”

“And who is going to stop me?” asked Alan. “Your brother?”

Amy was outraged by Alan's sneering manner, but Marla shouted, “He wasn't afraid to fight you once.”

Amy glanced around the playground and caught a glimpse of Mitchell's back at the other end of the school yard, where he was playing fielder in a kickball game. She did not want him to get into another fight.

“Next time sprinkle some nuts on the frosting,” said Alan. “It needs that little touch.”

“You—you're
despicable
,” Amy sputtered, and wished Mr. Greer or the yard teacher
would appear. The temporary buildings made the crowded playground difficult to supervise.

Alan laughed, calmly leaned over, and helped himself to another cupcake from Amy's shoe box. This sight was too much for Amy, who darted over and tried to snatch the cupcake from his hand, only to have it crumble and leave her fingers sticky with frosting.

“Oh!”
—Now Amy was really speechless.

Alan leaned against the fence and laughed.

Amy almost wished Mitchell were there. Maybe between them they could…

“Is that old bully eating our cupcakes?” Bernadette had appeared beside Amy with her own shoe box in her hands.

Amy nodded, tears of rage in her eyes.

“You big bully!” yelled Bernadette. “Just because your father is so famous you think you can get away with anything!”

Alan stopped laughing. “You leave my father out of this!” he yelled back, every bit
as angry as the girls.

“Well, it's true!” taunted Bernadette. “Just because he gets his picture in
Life
magazine you think you can do anything you want!”

“You sure do!” shouted Marla.

Alan's face turned red as he faced the three angry girls, who were now joined by others. A ball came bouncing across the playground, and Amy automatically stuck her foot out to stop it.

“You must think you're smart because your father is,” shouted Marla. “Well, you're not. You're just a big bully!”

Mitchell came running to retrieve the ball and stopped short when he saw what was happening.

“Hey, Huff! Bring the ball back!” called someone from the kickball game. When Mitchell did not move, there was nothing for the players to do but join him to see what was going on.

Alan looked angry enough to explode.
“You shut up!” he yelled at the girls. “I'm sick of hearing about my father!”

“Alan Hibbler's father! Alan Hibbler's father! Yah! Yah!” Marla yelled.

Bernadette joined in. “Judson Hibbler! Yah! Yah! Judson Hibbler!”

“You shut up, or I'll wreck the whole box of cupcakes!”

“Alan Hibbler's father! Alan Hibbler's father,” chanted Marla and Bonnie.

“No, you won't wreck my box of cupcakes!” said Amy ferociously. She was so mad at Alan she wanted to pound him as hard as she could with both her fists.

“Yes, I will!” shouted Alan. “I'll wreck your whole box. H-o-w-l.
Whole
box!”

“Go on, let's see you!” yelled some of the boys.

But h-o-w-l spells howl, not whole, thought Amy, startled. The same thought must have been going through the minds of her friends, because they all began to
laugh at the same time.

“He's going to wreck the howl box,” shrieked Bernadette and doubled up with laughter. “The h-o-w-l box,
howl
box!”

The sudden laughter took Alan by surprise. He hesitated, and then looked even redder and angrier than before. Amy stopped laughing. She was still furious with Alan, more furious than she had ever been with Mitchell, but she could not laugh at him because she suddenly understood that he had the same trouble with words as Mitchell. What if Mitchell were standing there with half the school laughing at him? And the situation must be a lot worse for Alan, having a famous father the way he did. Maybe his father was the reason he picked on people and tried to act big all the time.

Angry as she was, Amy began to feel sorry for Alan. She glanced at Mitchell and saw that he was not laughing either. He was standing there with the ball in his hands and a funny
look on his face. She wondered if Alan had to read aloud to his mother the way Mitchell did before he started reading for himself, and she thought how embarrassed he must be to stumble over baby words while such a famous and distinguished father listened.

“Howl box! H-o-w-l spells whole!” Everyone thought Alan's mistake was funny except Alan and Amy and Mitchell. Alan raised his foot and was about to bring it down on the lid of Amy's shoe box full of cupcakes when Bernadette thrust her own box of cupcakes into Amy's hands, rushed at Alan, expertly hooked her toe behind the ankle of the foot he was standing on, and, with a good hard shove, pushed him to the ground. Obviously Bernadette was used to handling bigger boys. With one knee on Alan's chest and her fist raised, she said, “Whose box of cupcakes are you going to wreck?”

Alan said nothing while Marla darted in and rescued Amy's cupcakes, which were
dangerously close to Alan's feet.

“Go on, Bernadette. Sock him!” yelled some of the boys, but most of the boys in the crowd were laughing.

Amy looked at Mitchell and saw that he was thinking the same thing she was, almost as if the two of them were sharing a secret without having to use words. Poor Alan. How shameful to let a girl get him down.

“Aw, come on, get up for Pete's sake.” Alan was painfully embarrassed, too embarrassed even to struggle.

“Whose box of cupcakes are you going to wreck?” repeated Bernadette. The bell rang, but no one moved.

Amy forgot about Mitchell's skateboard and the time Alan leaned over the railing to spit in her hair. She only knew she could stand Alan's shame no longer. What if Mitchell were down there on that asphalt? “Let him up, Bernadette,” she pleaded. “It's all right. Let him up.”

Reluctantly Bernadette took her knee off Alan's chest. Trying to avoid the eyes of the crowd, Alan got to his feet just as Mr. Greer made his way through the boys and girls
who had witnessed Alan's defeat.

“What's going on?” demanded the principal.

Amy made up her mind right then she was not going to tell.

“Nothing,” muttered Alan, unable to raise his eyes above Mr. Greer's shoelaces.

“Alan was wrecking the cupcakes Amy baked for Scouts,” explained Marla.

“Is that right?” Mr. Greer asked of Amy.

Amy felt shy and embarrassed to have the principal speak to her in front of everyone, but she spoke up. “Sort of,” she had to admit. But she added, “It's all right, Mr. Greer. He just ate one. We have enough cupcakes.” And perhaps they did, because one or two girls were nearly always absent from Scouts.

“Are you sure of that?” asked Mr. Greer.

“Yes, Mr. Greer,” answered Amy, and was aware that Alan managed to lift his eyes from Mr. Greer's shoelaces long enough to give her a look that, although it could not be
called grateful, was one of surprise and not of anger.

“All right, Amy, if you say so,” said Mr. Greer, and then he turned to Alan. “Just the same, you had better come along to my office. I think it's time we had a talk.”

“Yes, sir.” Alan, who looked smaller than usual beside the principal, followed Mr. Greer toward the main building of the school while the rest of the crowd started toward their classrooms.

Now the girls turned on Amy. “What did you do that for?” demanded Marla.

“You know he's just a big bully,” said Bonnie.

“I know he is but…oh, I don't know. Thanks anyway for rescuing the cupcakes.” Amy took the box from Marla. She could not explain to her friends why she had behaved as she did. None of her friends had a twin brother who made embarrassing mistakes in reading
and spelling. Her friends were all in fast reading groups and never spelled
they
with an
a
instead of an
e
, because the word sounded as if it should have an
a
in it. Her friends thought Alan was funny when he spelled
whole
as if it were
howl
, but
whole
really did sound as if it should be spelled h-o-w-l. Alan wasn't stupid. He had made a natural mistake. Couldn't they see?

Amy let her friends go on ahead and walked beside Mitchell. “Bernadette sure took care of Alan,” he remarked, but he was not gloating, just stating a fact.

“I guess she's had a lot of practice with all those brothers,” said Amy.

“Old Alan won't dare bully me or anyone else after letting a girl get him down,” said Mitchell. “He was pretty embarrassed, poor guy.”

Amy agreed. “After that he won't even dare pick on a Brownie and throw her beanie
into the boys' bathroom,” but before she had finished the sentence, Mitchell was gone, bounding across the asphalt as if he had springs in his sneakers and not a care in the world. Amy watched him and as he took the steps to his temporary classroom in one leap, she thought, I'm glad there are two of us, one me and one Mitchell.