Joshua T. Bates Takes Charge

by Susan Shreve

  “So what’s up?” Jell-O Hayes asked, slamming the door of his locker.

  “Not much,” Joshua said.

  “Did you finish your science report?” Jell-O asked.

  Joshua shrugged.

  “I heard Mr. Kirby say it was late.”

  “Well, I didn’t hear him,” Joshua said. He put his book bag over his shoulder.

  “Did Tommy get in touch with you?”

  “Nope,” Joshua said.

  “I thought he called you,” Jell-O said. “He told me he was going to call you last night.”

  “Maybe he did,” Joshua said. “I was sick.”

  “Yeah? What with?” Jell-O asked.

  “Scurvy,” Joshua said.

  “No kidding? Where did you get it?” Jell-O said.

  “India. I went to India for Christmas vacation to see friends.”

  “That’s funny. I didn’t think you had friends.” Jell-O began to laugh so hard his belly rumbled.

  Joshua rolled his eyes and followed Andrew down the corridor to their classroom.

  “I can’t stand him,” Joshua said.

  “But I wouldn’t want to cross him,” Andrew said.

  “Or have him sit on me.” Joshua and Andrew laughed.

  “Do you think he’s a member of the NOs too?” Joshua asked.

  “Maybe,” Andrew said. “Probably.”

  THE FIRST BELL rang just as Andrew and Joshua walked into the classroom. Joshua slipped into his seat. He hadn’t seen the red-haired midget before class and hadn’t noticed him when he and Andrew walked in.

  Maybe he’d moved again, Joshua thought happily. Maybe moving vans arrived at the O’Malley house in the middle of the night. Maybe Sean had moved to California to be with his mother in a house filled with red-haired nerds.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad day after all, Joshua thought. He was still flunking math. Tommy Wilhelm hated him, or maybe he didn’t. Joshua wasn’t sure. But at least he seemed to be free of the red-haired midget.

  Then he felt a few tugs on the back of his shirt and a tiny whisper of a voice.

  “Hi, Sean,” Joshua said wearily. “What’s up?” The light sensation Joshua had begun to feel turned heavy as lead.

  “Someone stole my lunchbox,” Sean said.

  For a terrible moment Joshua thought the red-haired midget was going to start crying again.

  “I was standing at my locker just a minute ago and it was on the floor, and I was putting my things away and when I looked down it was gone,” he said. But Sean didn’t cry. He just looked small. Even smaller than normal.

  “What’s the big deal, Sean? You can have some of my lunch.” Joshua was practically whispering so as not to be overheard talking with the red-haired midget. “I have tunafish. You like tunafish?”

  “Yeah,” Sean said, and shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  “Great,” Joshua said. “We’ll split my sandwich.”

  “It’s not just the lunehbox,” Sean said. “My dad gave me a bunch of money to buy school supplies and stuff, and now—” Sean’s voice seemed to flutter and tears welled up in his eyes.

  “Class is about to start,” Joshua said. “We’ll talk later. Okay?”

  AFTER CLASS, Joshua left with Andrew.

  “You know about Sean’s lunchbox?”

  “I heard about it,” Andrew said.

  “The NOs?”

  “Who else?”

  Joshua sighed. He could see it as plain as day. This was going to be a very long week. A very, very long week.

  chapter six

  IN THE CORRIDOR on the way to math, Tommy Wilhelm pulled Joshua aside. “I’ve got to talk to you at recess.”

  “Maybe,” Joshua said. “I may be on the playground.”

  “Just be at the equipment shed at recess, Bates. I mean it.”

  “I’ll try,” Joshua said.

  But the wet snow had turned to a steady rain, so recess was indoors—in the library or the lunchroom or the gym. Joshua decided to do his math homework in the library during recess, so he had an excuse to avoid the red-haired midget and he didn’t have to have a conversation with Tommy Wilhelm, who, after all, wouldn’t be caught dead in the library. Joshua either, for that matter.

  During art W.V. had gotten up to sharpen his pencil. The sharpener was in the back of the room, behind the table where the nerds sat. On his way back, W.V. locked his foot around a leg of Sean’s stool and pulled, and Sean crashed to the floor.

  The whole class burst into laughter. W.V. even made a big show of pretending to apologize.

  “Here,” W.V. said, holding out his hand, “let me help you up.” Sean reached for his hand, but W.V. pushed Sean down again.

  “Oops,” W.V. said.

  By this time Mr. Webb was standing over Sean. He helped Sean up and ordered W.V. back to his seat.

  “And be more careful next time,” he told W.V.

  “Gee, Mr. Webb,” W.V. pleaded innocently, “he was so small I didn’t even see him sitting there.” W.V. winked at Tommy as he went by, and they exchanged low-fives. “Good job, W.V.,” Tommy said.

  Sean was silent all through art, even when the class broke up into partners and he and Joshua were standing side by side nailing together the sides of their bird feeder.

  Joshua kept his eye on the clock. He didn’t want the bell for recess to ring while he was with Sean. Then he would probably get stuck with him on the way out. As soon as the bell rang, Joshua gathered together his books and things and rushed away. As he left, however, he noticed Tommy and a few other boys hanging around just outside the classroom door. Sean walked out, his head down. Tommy stuck out his leg while another boy pushed Sean from behind. Sean stumbled and fell. His books went flying across the hallway. One of the boys walked over to Sean, who was sprawled on his stomach, and pushed his foot into Sean’s back, pinning him.

  “He’s as tiny as a bug.”

  The boys laughed hysterically.

  “A jerk bug,” another boy said.

  Tommy noticed Joshua standing off to the side. Sean was struggling to get up, but the more he wiggled, the harder the boy pushed his foot down. Tommy jerked his chin toward Joshua.

  “You got a problem with this, Bates?”

  “Maybe he wants to come to his girlfriend’s rescue,” W.V. said.

  “No way,” Tommy kidded W.V. “Even Bates isn’t that stupid.” Tommy turned to Joshua. “Are you, Bates?”

  Joshua was already gone.

  AT LUNCH Sean was sitting alone at a table when Joshua and Andrew came into the lunchroom.

  “I guess we should sit with him,” Andrew said.

  “We have to,” Joshua said. “I told him I’d share my tunafish sandwich.”

  “Okay,” Andrew said.

  “But we won’t make a habit of it or anything,” Joshua said. Andrew agreed.

  They sat down next to Sean and Joshua opened his lunchbox, unwrapped his sandwich, and gave Sean half, plus some carrots and a pear.

  “Thanks,” Sean said.

  “ ’S okay,” Joshua said. The lunchroom was getting crowded. Joshua couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as if everyone was staring at him. Even the little kids Joshua remembered from when he flunked and who looked up to him for the most part were staring. And probably thinking, “Joshua T. Bates … the nerd.”

  Joshua slid down in his chair. Andrew and Sean were talking about museums.

  “There aren’t many museums in New Jersey,” Sean said.

  Andrew was munching on his sandwich.

  “Washington has tons of museums,” Andrew said. “But I think the National Air and Space Museum is my favorite. It’s really neat. You should go.”

  There was a commotion at a table at the back of the room. It was Tommy and Billy and some other boys. Oh, no, Joshua thought. W.V. was headed right toward them. He was carrying his tray, and a couple of times he looked back at Tommy, grinning.

  Joshua tried to slide even farther down in his chair. He would have liked to sli
de right through the floor, through the center of the earth, and on to China.

  Andrew was just telling Sean about his plans to visit Mount Vernon when the tray that W.V. was carrying tipped and spilled on Sean O’Malley’s head. Two orange juices and a glass of chocolate milk dripped down his shoulders. Tomato sauce and lasagna plastered his red hair. Com drizzled down the back of his neck.

  “I’m sorry,” W.V. said. “Jeez. I thought I had it balanced. I’m reaaally sorry, Sean. I’m just sooo clumsy.”

  Andrew and Joshua looked over and exchanged embarrassed glances.

  Sean reached up to his head and ran his hand through the lasagna. “ ’S okay,” Sean whispered.

  “Here,” W.V. offered, “I’ll get you a napkin.”

  W.V. picked up a paper napkin from Andrew’s tray and roughly rubbed the lasagna and tomato sauce all over Sean’s head and down the back of his neck.

  Joshua could hear Tommy and Billy Nickel laughing. He shot up from his seat.

  “See you in a minute,” he called to Andrew, and ran out the back door of the lunchroom, up the stairs, and down the corridor, and burst into the boys’ bathroom next to the principal’s office. He was either laughing or crying, he couldn’t tell which.

  Andrew had followed. Joshua heard the door open, and there was Andrew in the mirror over the sinks where Joshua was rinsing his face.

  “Poor Sean,” Andrew said. “I wish I had the guts to tell.”

  “You saw W.V. tip his tray?”

  “Sure,” Andrew said. “Didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t need to see it happen,” Joshua said.

  Just then Sean O’Malley flew into the boys’ room, covered with juice and chocolate milk and lasagna.

  “I guess you saw what happened,” he said, his voice shaky.

  “Yeah,” Joshua said. “Maybe you could wash most of that gunk out.”

  “And I have some extra clothes in my locker. You know, if you’d like to borrow them,” Andrew said.

  “Maybe.” Sean took off his shirt and put it under the faucet.

  Andrew left and came back with a flannel shirt and sweater. “I don’t know what you can do about the stuff in your hair,” he said.

  “It’s probably going to stick and be there all day,” Sean said, putting his head under the faucet. Then he put on Andrew’s shirt, which was huge on him.

  The boys’ room filled up quickly then—Tommy Wilhelm and W.V. and Billy Nickel and Jell-O Hayes came in from the lunchroom and stood around trading baseball cards, talking about their plans after school, pretending that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Sean started toward the door.

  “See you later, Sean,” Tommy said ominously.

  Then Tommy said, “Listen, Josh, why don’t you come over after school today?”

  “Can’t,” Joshua said, thinking quickly. “I’ve got a dentist’s appointment.”

  “After the dentist’s appointment,” Tommy said. “Do you know where I live?”

  “Nope,” Joshua lied. He knew exactly where Tommy Wilhelm lived, but he had never been invited to Tommy’s and he certainly didn’t want Tommy Wilhelm to think he had any interest in where he lived.

  “My address is 4256 Chesapeake,” Tommy said. “Some of the guys are coming over to play Nintendo.”

  “Maybe,” Joshua said, and he left the boys’ bathroom as the bell for fifth period was ringing.

  Sean was sitting on the floor in front of his locker.

  “Hi,” Joshua said, pretending it was a perfectly ordinary day.

  Sean had a piece of paper in his lap. “Look what I got,” he said, and handed the paper to Joshua. On the paper was a crude drawing of a ballet dancer and a note: DEAR SEANY, I JUST LOVE TO WATCH YOU DO BALLET. LOVE FOREVER, MILDRED SHOETREE.

  “They hate me,” Sean said.

  Joshua had a sinking feeling in his stomach. “You’ve been kind of unlucky, that’s all,” he said.

  “It’s more than bad luck,” Sean said. He stood up, opened his locker, and began pulling books out. Just then the door to the boys’ room opened and Tommy Wilhelm walked out with Jell-O Hayes and Billy Nickel and W. V. Wood.

  “Yeah. Well, see you,” Joshua said, heading down the corridor in a hurry. And when Sean called “Wait for me,” he pretended not to hear.

  chapter seven

  MIRCH ELEMENTARY SCHOOL was a rectangular brick building with green doors and a chain-link fence around the playground, similar in look to most public grammar schools everywhere. Except on the roof of Mirch, just above the center doors and reachable by the window in the main hall, was a modern sculpture in bright yellows and blues and reds done by one of the parents. At three o’clock on Tuesday afternoon, even though the rain was falling in a steady sheet and the sky was gray, the children just dismissed for the day could easily see that in the long red arm of the sculpture on the roof was a Mickey Mouse lunchbox.

  Tommy Wilhelm was sitting on the top cement step with Billy Nickel and Jell-O Hayes in their yellow slickers when Joshua ran out the front door of the school in a particular hurry.

  “Did you see the new decoration?” Tommy asked as Joshua passed by. He pointed to the sculpture on the roof.

  “You know whose that is?”

  “Sure,” Joshua said, trying to be very casual about it. “Sean’s.”

  “Maybe he had plans to eat lunch on the roof,” Jell-O said.

  “You bet,” Joshua said.

  “Did you see Sean?” Tommy asked Joshua. “He’ll be very glad to know we’ve located his lunchbox.”

  “Yeah. I imagine he will,” Joshua said, ignoring Tommy’s question. “That was swell of you, Tommy,” he added sarcastically.

  He left quickly and walked over to the flagpole, where he met Andrew Porter every afternoon after school, which is where the principal found him.

  Mr. Barnes was young for a principal and good-humored. He played soccer with the fifth and sixth graders in the fall and baseball in the spring. He had a picnic at his house every June for the whole sixth grade, and once during the winter he rented a movie theater and asked all of Mirch Elementary to come to the movies. He had a reputation for being fair, and ever since Joshua’s troubles in third grade Mr. Barnes had shown a particular interest in him. This afternoon, however, Mr. Barnes was not in a good humor.

  “Joshua Bates!” he called.

  Joshua walked over, his heart in his feet.

  “I need to speak to you right away in my office.”

  “I have a dentist’s appointment,” Joshua said.

  “Your dentist’s appointment will have to wait,” Mr. Barnes said, going back inside.

  Billy Nickel whistled.

  “This sounds like a big deal,” Tommy Wilhelm said.

  “If you need any help, let us know,” Jell-O said.

  “I’ll punch him out if he gives you any trouble,” W.V. said.

  On his way to Mr. Barnes’s office Joshua passed Andrew.

  “I’m in big trouble,” Joshua said.

  “What’s up?”

  “Mr. Barnes wants to see me in his office pronto.”

  “You think it’s about Sean?” Andrew asked.

  “Of course it’s about Sean,” Joshua said. “Unless it’s about math, which I’m flunking.”

  “Well, someone stole his Yankees jacket.”

  “Great,” Joshua said. “And his Mickey Mouse lunchbox is on the roof of the building. Wait for me at the flagpole,” he added. “I’ve got to get over to the principal’s office before I’m in worse trouble.”

  MR. BARNES was waiting for Joshua in his office. He shut the door and told Joshua to take a seat in the chair across from his desk.

  “You know why you’re here?”

  “I’m flunking math.”

  “Maybe you are,” Mr. Barnes said. “But that’s not why you’re here.”

  Joshua knew without having to guess.

  “Sean O’Malley.”

  “Exactly.”

  Mr. Barnes had a large
desk with stacks of paper in rows, gold-framed color photographs of his children, a picture of himself standing on the bow of a sailboat, a statue of a dog done by a student in art class, and papers in a box that said IMPORTANT. From the top of that box he took a large folded note and gave it to Joshua.

  “As you may have noticed, a lunchbox is hanging on the sculpture on the roof of the building.”

  “I saw.”

  “Presumably it belongs to Sean O’Malley.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “I received this letter shortly after lunch,” Mr. Barnes said. “Why don’t you read it.”

  The note, which was printed in block letters, said: DEAR MR. BARNES, SEAN O’MALLEY, THE NEW BOY IN FIFTH GRADE, IS BEING PERSECUTED BY JOSHUA BATES. WE HAPPENED TO SEE JOSHUA STEAL SEAN’S LUNCHBOX AND HANG IT ON THE SCULPTURE ON THE ROOF. It was signed, FRIENDS OF SEAN O’MALLEY.

  “That’s a lie,” Joshua said. His heart was beating so hard it felt as if it had jumped into his mouth.

  “I understand Mrs. Wooden asked you to keep an eye out for Sean,” Mr. Barnes said.

  “She asked me to show him around, if that’s what you mean.”

  Mr. Barnes laced his fingers together and leaned across his desk.

  “Joshua, I want you to tell me what has been going on with Sean O’Malley.”

  “A lot has happened,” Joshua said. “He was tripped in the hall. Someone pulled his stool out from under him in art class.” Joshua was uncomfortable. He itched all over and tiny beads of sweat were rolling down his back.

  “And?” Mr. Barnes prompted.

  “I guess someone spilled a tray on him at lunch. And someone stole his jacket.”

  Mr. Barnes was not smiling.

  “But it wasn’t me,” Joshua said. “I promise it wasn’t me.”

  “Is that what you think I think?” Mr. Barnes asked.

  Joshua wasn’t exactly sure.

  “I guess not,” he said.

  Mr. Barnes sighed.

  “Joshua, you’re the only student who has been with Sean on a regular basis. If anybody might know what is going on, you would. Now I want you to tell me who you think is responsible for all this.”