by Jenny Lee
Travis blushed. I knew he regretted ever coming over to the table. I hoped he wouldn’t take his humiliation out on me in the future, when Billy wasn’t around. The last thing I needed was a new bully on my roster.
“Shut up, Billy. We’re out of here. I’ve got a kickball game to get to.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you.”
Travis and his boys walked off, which left me with Billy Thompson and his own gang of thugs, who were now all grinning and high-fiving one another. I guess in the battle of the bullies, their leader had just won. I didn’t know what to say. I found the whole thing pretty odd. Billy was being territorial over me, like I was his prize punching bag and Travis couldn’t have me.
“What are you staring at?” he asked, glaring at me this time.
“M-m-me? Nothing. I, uh, nothing. Sorry?”
“You should be!”
He slammed his fist so hard on the table, my chicken-fried steak patty flew up an inch off my tray into the air. It caught me off guard, and I think I actually squeaked. Elvis moved into the space between Billy and me. They had a major bully versus dog stare-down contest. This time Billy didn’t win. I wouldn’t say Elvis won, either. It was more like a draw. Billy just walked away. I breathed a sigh of relief. I guess Elvis was right: Billy wasn’t bright, but he wasn’t dumb enough to go after me and a giant dog.
Of course, just when I thought I was safe, Billy turned around and left me with some parting words. “So did you hear about the new nerd in school? He’s got brain issues just like you. Maybe you two can be weirdo BFFs,” he said, laughing.
“Thanks, but I’ve already got enough friends.”
“Really? Is that why you’re sitting here eating lunch with your fat dog?”
“Look, pick on me all you want, but don’t call my dog fat. He’s not fat. He’s big boned.”
“Whatever, dude.” He laughed again. “How come you’re not hiding out in the library eating lunch with your girlfriend the librarian?”
For some reason this comment hit me hard. I was surprised Billy knew about the library. I had always assumed no one even thought about me, so they’d never notice if I ate in the library. The next thing I knew, the boys behind Billy slowly backed up, and I had no idea why. I guess I was so distracted by Billy glaring down at me, I didn’t hear what was happening. Then I heard it, a low buzzing like a giant swarm of bees in this movie I once saw or the low-octave hum of a motorcycle gang riding down the highway in the distance. Then I realized it was coming from Elvis. He looked completely normal. His mouth was closed. But it was an unmistakable sound, the low growl of a dog. He stared at the boys intently.
“Anyway, Billy, my chicken-fried steak is getting cold, so unless there was something you wanted to talk to me about specifically, I’m just going to eat my lunch. Okay?”
“Okay, lamebrain Benji, you do that. Come on, guys, let’s bail. It smells over here.”
And just like that they walked off. The whole thing probably only lasted five minutes, but it felt like an eternity. I was so stressed, I actually forgot to faint. I turned to Elvis.
“Eating in the library doesn’t look so bad anymore, does it? Hey, was that you growling?”
“No.”
“It was too! That’s cool how you can do that without opening your mouth.”
There were only ten more minutes left until the bell rang. Then I had art class, then PE (which I got to sit out of because of my wrist), then back to Ms. Blaine’s class and then the day was over. I looked over at Elvis. He had licked his plate clean. Literally.
“Hey do you want the rest of my—”
“—lunch?” he said, finishing my sentence.
Elvis cocked his head to the side, and I turned to see what he looking at.
I heard chanting, low and rhythmic. It took me a second to figure out what everyone was saying. “New kid! New kid! New kid!” they chanted. Coach Connor stood up from the teachers’ table and blew his whistle, and the chanting stopped. That man doesn’t go anywhere without wearing his whistle. Like, I bet he wears it in the shower and sleeps with it.
Then I saw him, the new kid everyone was talking about. He was standing by the cafeteria cashier, scanning the room for a safe place to sit. I recognized his expression immediately. It was terror. Just looking at his face made my stomach hurt, so I looked away.
“Hey, you should wave him over here,” Elvis suggested.
“What? No way,” I said.
“Benjamin, he’s new. He doesn’t know anyone. We have room at our table.”
“You mean the table no one is sitting at because I don’t have any friends? So now you want me to risk falling even lower on the scale of nobodies in this place by inviting the new kid to sit with us? Didn’t you see what just happened a minute ago? I had two of the meanest bullies in the entire school fighting over me. I’m already a target, and now you want me to basically shoot off a flare gun so we can have a second go-around? Forget it. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to make it to art class today. There’s a Popsicle-stick log cabin project I’m trying to finish.”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. And you of all people should be empathetic to his plight. He’s new, and alone. You can add him to your pack.”
“Shut up about my pack. I’m not a dog. I’m a kid. If you want to add him to your pack, you go over and sit with him.”
Elvis let out a short, sharp bark. Everyone turned to look at us, including the new kid. This was a disaster. A new emotion flashed over the kid’s face. It was just a split second, but I caught it and recognized it immediately. It was hope. Now I really had no choice, so I waved him to come over to my table. He smiled and headed our way. I turned to Elvis.
“Happy? I’m basically a sitting duck now.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you have no right to boss me around like this. You’re new, and you don’t understand how elementary school works.”
“It was the right thing to do,” Elvis insisted.
“So what? Don’t you get it? You’re the dog and I’m the master. I’m supposed to tell you what to do, not the other way around.”
“First off, I’m not your dog. And second, in this pack, I’m clearly the alpha, which means I’m in charge of you.”
“Oh, here we go, how could I possibly forget? All you do is remind me. You’re the president’s dog. I get it. So go be the president’s dog then! I’ll wear my stupid helmet tomorrow if it means you’ll stop meddling in my life. You do realize you’re only making my life harder for me, right? And don’t forget, you threw me out of a window!”
“I did it to save you!”
“You did it to show off! I thought you were here to help me, to protect me, but no, what you’re doing is making me an even bigger target than I used to be.”
“Benjamin, calm down. I didn’t mean to make you so upset. I just wanted you to do the right thing and—”
Just then the new kid put his tray down on the table. He looked at me and then at Elvis, realizing we were in the middle of something serious.
“I forgot my milk. I’m going to go get it. May I get you or your dog something while I’m up there?” he asked.
“No, thanks.” The new kid walked off, and we went back to our fight.
“I know it’s the right thing to do. I’m not stupid. But it’s easy for you to be all high and mighty about doing the right thing when you’re big and strong and smarter than everyone else. But it’s not so easy for the rest of us. You just don’t understand what it’s like to be me.”
“Don’t tell me I don’t understand. I understand plenty. I’ll have you know I was born the runt of my litter. And in the dog world, that means I was born a nobody. A lot of times the runt doesn’t even survive. You know why? Sometimes the mother rejects the runt and doesn’t feed it enough because she wants to save her milk for the other puppies, the stronger ones.”
“Are you g
oing to tell me you were kicked out of your litter and raised by wolves? Or a duck? Or better yet, you went out into the woods and built yourself a doghouse out of twigs and survived on berries?” I asked.
“Don’t be a smart aleck. No, my mom didn’t do that, but it could have happened. And I will tell you one thing. My littermates shunned me. They never let me hang out with them, because I was scrawny and small. When I went to get water, they flipped me into the water bowl. They called me Puny Pembroke. Or Tiny Whiney Woofy. But you know what I did? I’ll tell you. I ate a lot, I slept a lot, and I studied a lot. I trained four times longer and harder than every other dog there. I asked a lot of questions. I observed the world around me. And though everyone said there was no way I would ever get picked to be anyone’s dog, I never believed it. I knew I was special, and I knew I worked harder than every other dog. And two years ago, when word on the farm was that the president of the United States was coming to select a dog for himself, I was prepared. Lola Beth was so excited about him visiting that she read everything about him she could get her hands on. I knew his favorite color. I knew he had a good sense of humor. I knew he had a childhood dog that played dead when he pointed a finger gun at him and went bang-bang. So when he pointed that finger gun at me, like I hoped he would, I staggered around and flopped over and played dead better than any other dog in the history of the world. And he picked me. So don’t tell me I don’t know what it’s like to be the underdog. I know plenty. Don’t let anyone tell you who you are, Benjamin, especially when they don’t even know you. Be who you want to be.”
“Yeah, oh yeah? Well . . .” I didn’t really have a response, because that was a pretty awesome story. But I was mad, really mad, and so I sort of lost my temper.
“You know what, I think you’re lying. That’s it. You’re a liar. Liar, liar, furry butt on fire! I don’t believe any of it. I don’t believe you were the runt, and I don’t believe you’re the president’s dog. I think you’re making it all up so you can act superior to everyone you meet, and hog all the attention for yourself.”
Oh boy, I knew I’d crossed the line right at the exact moment the words came out of my mouth, but I couldn’t stop myself. Luckily, the new kid was back, standing next to me with two cartons of milk. He looked at me and then at Elvis, and then at me again.
“Did you just call your dog a liar?”
“I did.”
“Here, you look like you could use some milk.” He held out one of the red milk cartons toward me. I didn’t know what else to do, so I took it. He sat down and calmly ate his lunch.
“My name is Benji,” I said. “So I guess from all the chanting you’re the new kid?”
“Yes. I started school two weeks ago. I think my first day was the day you had your medical emergency in the hallway and went to the hospital. My name is Alexander Chang-Cohen, but I go by Alexander. I appreciate you inviting me to sit with you and your Newfie dog.”
“You know the breed?”
“I have total recall, which means I remember every single thing I see, hear, experience, everything. I think I saw a picture of a Newfoundland in a book once. Lewis and Clark had a Newfie. He’s very handsome, regal even.”
“Well, don’t get too used to him. He’s not even my dog. He’s a temp. I’m just waiting for my real dog.”
“Oh.”
This was when I noticed Alexander didn’t have a backpack but instead had parked his rolling laptop bag next to our table. Oh, now it made sense.
“Hey, now I remember seeing you that day. Actually, it was one of the last things I remember seeing before my episode.” I immediately pictured Alexander’s rolling laptop bag in my mind. “Wasn’t Billy Thompson giving you a hard time?”
“Yes, if by ‘hard time’ you mean he dumped all my stuff on my head and then proceeded to kick it all over the hallway. I’m still finding things with his sneaker prints on them. It probably would have gotten worse, but you had your . . .” He trailed off, suddenly realizing maybe it was a sensitive issue for me.
“You mean my seizure? Well, at least it was good timing for you. So you saw the whole thing?”
“I did.”
“And I guess you remember it pretty well, huh?”
“I remember it exactly. It was scary to see. Did you want to know something about—”
Alexander didn’t get to finish his sentence, because a carton of milk sailed across the cafeteria and hit our table like a bomb, sending milk everywhere. I was stunned. Before I could react, another one came straight toward my head. Elvis leaped into the air, and it hit him instead of me. I couldn’t believe he took a milk carton in the chest for me just like that. I guess he wasn’t kidding when he said he’d take a bullet for the president. Next thing I knew, Elvis grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me under the table for cover. He was already going after Alexander when the third milk carton hit. There was total chaos in the lunchroom. Kids screamed, teachers shouted, and Elvis barked a totally different bark than I had ever heard before. This bark was deep and scary and very serious.
I wiped my face off on my T-shirt. I looked over at Alexander, sitting calmly under the table with me.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Me? Oh, sure. Do you regret asking me to sit with you now?”
“No,” I said, but I didn’t know if I meant it.
“I’m not sure if I would have done the same if our roles were reversed. I like to believe I would have, but I can be a big chicken sometimes. Anyway, you were really brave to put yourself out there for me, especially knowing there would be consequences if you did. I’m just happy it wasn’t a milk carton full of ketchup and peas.”
“Ooh, that’s disgusting. Did that happen to you before?”
“Yup, it happened at my last school, but lucky for me the kid had bad aim, so it missed me and hit our vice principal in the back.”
Alexander cracked up, and just the thought of a milk carton full of ketchup hitting Principal Kriesky made me crack up too. Pretty soon the two of us were hysterically laughing under the lunchroom table. Elvis finally stuck his head under to check on us.
“I gotta get you two out of here. How do you two feel about crawling through an air shaft?”
“Uh, I tend to get a little sweaty in small, confined spaces,” I said to Elvis. Alexander thought I was talking to him. He looked worried.
“Me too! And there’s always a rat up there, and I don’t like their beady eyes.”
“Me too!”
Wow, Alexander and I were so much alike. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to hang out with him.
“So, we’re just going to stand here and take this?” asked Elvis, who stuck his head under the table to talk to me.
“Elvis, it’s okay. The bell’s going to ring soon anyway. Sometimes it’s not about fighting back, it’s about waiting it out.”
Right then Elvis got hit with a carton of chocolate milk, which splashed all over his back and dripped down his furry face. He barely flinched, though he was about to lick his nose when I yelled at him to stop. “Nooooooooooo! That was chocolate milk! Don’t taste it. Chocolate is bad for dogs!” I started to climb out from under the table.
Elvis was surprised, but he didn’t say anything right away. He just wagged his tail a little bit, nudged me back under the table, and then proceeded to shake off all the excess milk.
After he finished shaking, he said, “Trust me, it’d take a lot more than chocolate milk to take me down.”
“Hey, Alexander, can I ask you something?” I asked.
“Certainly.”
“I have this thing, its kind of a lucky charm that my dad gave me, and well, the last time I had it was the day of my episode, and I’m wondering if maybe you happened to see it when you saw me go down. . . .”
“Was it a little shiny silver thing on a brown leather string?”
“Yes, it is. That’s unbelievable! You remember it?”
“Benji, it’s like my eyes are a video camera and I record everythin
g I see, and so I can go back and see it all again if I think about it. I didn’t know it was yours. I saw it on the floor, and for some reason I assumed it was Billy’s.”
“Billy’s? Why would you think that? Wait a second, are you saying Billy has it?”
“Uh, no, I’m not saying that. I’m saying I saw it, and I thought it was his and then . . .”
Suddenly I was hopeful. Maybe it wasn’t gone forever. Maybe I could get it back somehow. “I’m so relieved it’s not gone. It’s really important to me, and I thought it was lost forever. Do you think he still has it?”
“Uh, well . . . I don’t know about that. I’m not saying I know for sure he has it or anything.”
Just then I noticed a pair of pink Converse high-tops with yellow daisies next to me, and then a second later Taisy bent down and peered at us under the table.
“Hey, you guys okay?” she asked.
“Hey, Taisy. Yeah, we’re fine. But guess what—Alexander’s amazing brain has helped me find the good luck charm that I lost. Billy Thompson stole it.”
“What? He did?”
“Wait, I never said Billy stole it,” Alexander interjected.
Taisy interrupted, “Well it makes sense, because everyone knows Billy’s a thief and a liar. Ooh, there’s nothing I hate more than liars.”
I nodded my head in agreement. “Yeah, me too. What about you, Alexander, don’t you hate liars also?”
Alexander nodded, but he looked really stressed out, more stressed out now than when the milk bombs were flying. I wondered if he was shy around girls and Taisy was making him nervous.
“Hey, Taisy, this is my new friend, Alexander. He’s the new kid. And Alexander, this is Taisy, star athlete of our school.”
“Well, first off, I don’t think of myself as the star athlete of the school but as one of the star athletes of the school. And I want to be known for more than just that, so I’m also good at the flute, double Dutch jump rope, hair braiding, and super-swirly cursive writing. But I already know Alexander, because we have band together. He can play almost every single instrument. It’s pretty out-of-control cool.”
“Is the coast clear now?” I asked.
