Public School Superhero

by James Patterson

  MY NEW REP

  I know I should stop. But I don’t.

  That week we have a field trip to the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum. I get on the bus with Ray-Ray and Preemie, partly because they ask me to, and partly because I want to.

  Arthur looks at me funny when I say I’ll catch up with him later. He watches me move on back, and then I don’t know what he does, because I’m not paying attention to him anymore. I’m noticing how Dwayne and Kwame are looking at me.

  Before this, they always looked at me like I was a cockroach they couldn’t wait to stomp. But ever since they saw me rolling out with Nicky Powell, it’s more like I’m some kind of puzzle they can’t figure out.

  And do I like it? You know it! As far as they know, I’m one of Nicky’s boys. Yeah, right.

  “Did you check Dwayne and Kwame back there?” Ray-Ray asks me when I sit down.

  “Actually, yeah,” I say. I look over again, and this time Kwame looks away first. That never happens. Up to now, the only people who looked away from me first were pretty girls. Well, not all of them. I catch a few cute ones giving me “the eye.” Okay… maybe one or two. But I haven’t developed my mack, my conversation with girls, just yet, so I look away. I know—weak!

  Back to Kwame. Dude actually looked away.

  Crazy, right?

  “Now we’ve got to keep it going,” Ray-Ray says.

  “What’s that mean?” I say.

  “You’ve got the new rep, but it’s not worth much if you can’t back it up. People need to see you standing up for yourself once in a while,” Ray-Ray says. “Even if it’s not for real.”

  “Huh?” I say, but he and Preemie are just cheesing at each other like they’ve got some kind of secret plan. Which I guess they do. You never know what Ray-Ray’s up to.

  “It’ll be like one of those pop quizzes,” Preemie says to me. “So just be ready.”

  And I’m thinking, Since when is Preemie in on this?

  And then I’m thinking, What does she mean? Be ready for WHAT?

  But mostly, I’m thinking about how Kwame looked away first, and how much I like not being a cockroach.

  So I don’t ask any more questions. I just keep my mouth shut and go with the flow.

  Which turns out to be a huge mistake.

  AIN’T NO FUTURE IN YOUR FRONTIN’

  The front of the Air and Space Museum is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. They have all kinds of aircraft hanging over the lobby like huge models. Except these are the real deal. I’m looking up at an old fighter jet, and a space capsule, and a hang glider, and I’m wishing I could just take one of them out for a test flight. Like maybe now, because Ray-Ray and Preemie have me feeling just a little bit nervous.

  You know, like the way the ocean is just a little bit watery.

  Dr. Yetty’s already been working with us on a unit from the museum. It’s called “Black Wings,” all about African American pioneers in aviation. So when we pass by a picture of Bernard Harris, you know she points it right out.

  “There he is, boys and girls. The first African American to walk in space. And there’s one of my personal heroes, Bessie Coleman. She was the first licensed black pilot, all the way back in 1921. Who can tell me how many years ago that was?”

  That’s Dr. Yetty for real—’cause why just do history when you can do math at the same time? No wonder G-ma’s totally in love with her.

  Meanwhile, we’re all headed toward the planetarium, and everyone’s pushing and jostling, trying to get there first for the good seats. Ray-Ray’s right in front of me now, but I’m not sure what happened to Preemie. She was here a second ago.

  And then I hear her voice.

  “Ready?” she whispers behind me.

  Before I can say Yes, No, or Ready for what?, she puts her hands on my back and gives me a push.

  I stumble right into Ray-Ray. He stumbles, too, and then whips around, giving me this evil eye I’ve never seen on him before.

  “What’s wrong with you, Grandma’s Boy?” he says.

  I know it’s not for real. Lots of other kids are around, including Dwayne and Tiny, which I guess is the whole point. This is my chance to fake-show what I’m fake-made-of. But that doesn’t stop my heart from running like one of those jet engines.

  Then Ray-Ray steps up on me, even closer.

  “I said… what’s wrong with you, Grandma’s Boy?” he says again. He keeps his voice low, so none of the teachers notice—but everyone else does.

  And here’s the part I don’t expect. Even though it’s fake, I still hate that name. All of a sudden, I’m thinking about everyone who ever called me that. Everyone who tripped me in the hall, or stuck me in a locker, or pounded me like Bryce Harper does to every ball pitched his way.

  And that’s when I start to get mad. For real.

  “Check yourself, Ray-Ray,” I say.

  “Check myself? You better get back in your lane, before I put you there,” he says. I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. He looks over at Jerome Cleary, standing there watching us. Tiny, too. “And what’re you gonna do about it, Grandma’s B—”

  Before I know what’s what, I reach out and give Ray-Ray a shove. It’s nothing I was planning on. It just kind of happens. I don’t think Ray-Ray was expecting it, either. He looks pretty surprised when I do it.

  Then he looks even more surprised when he falls over one of those fancy ropes they use to keep us in line.

  The security guard looks surprised, too. Especially when Ray-Ray falls right into her.

  And she drops her walkie-talkie.

  And it makes this huge SQUAWK sound when it hits the ground.

  And a bunch of other guards come running to see what’s going on.

  The good news is, I just passed Ray-Ray’s pop quiz. But that’s the only good news. Next thing I know, Dr. Yetty’s putting a death grip on my arm and dragging me away.

  “What kind of display was that?” she says. “I’m shocked, Kenny. Shocked! I think your grandmother will be, too.”

  My heart never even slows down. That fight may have been fake, but the trouble I’m about to get into is one hundred percent real.

  Plus, G-ma’s going to be two hundred percent disappointed. I can just see her face now. Letting her down kills me. I’m supposed to be some type of student ambassador dude. You think Frederick Douglass got into fake fights?

  No way.

  That little silver-haired lady is gonna let me have it.

  She’s like a living, breathing, pint-sized civil rights movement.

  G-MA GOES OFF

  WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”

  That’s one of G-ma’s favorite things to say. But I’ve never heard it quite like this. She already got the scoop from Dr. Yetty. But now that I’m home, she wants to hear it from me.

  And she’s not just kind of mad. She’s not even really mad. This time, G-ma’s got it turned all the way up. That’s the kind of power that can be used for good and evil. You haven’t seen angry until you’ve seen my grandma heated.

  “Since when does my grandson get into fights?” G-ma says. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

  “Well—” I say.

  “And at the Smithsonian Museum, of all places? Honestly, Kenneth!”

  I’m trying to think of a way to explain this that won’t make G-ma madder—like that’s even possible.

  Not to mention, she’s still talking.

  “This is about your future,” she says. “That doesn’t start tomorrow, or next year. It starts today, Kenneth. Every day. If you wanted a shot at a perfect record, it’s gone now. Do you hear what I’m saying?”

  And that’s the part that makes it even worse. G-ma thinks this is my first detention. She thinks this is the first time I’ve gotten in trouble, period.

  She even thinks the only reason I’m teaching chess to Ray-Ray is because I’m some kind of good person.

  Wrong. Wronger. Wrongest.

  I can’t keep holding it
all in. I’ve got to tell her at least a little bit of the truth, or my brain’s going to explode right here and now.

  “G-ma, can I say something?” I ask her.

  She bunches up her mouth and squints at me, so I can see she’s taking her time to think about it.

  “You may,” she says then. “Help me understand this, Kenneth.”

  “The truth is, I thought if some of the guys saw me cutting up, they might not think I was such a… um… you know…”

  I freeze, because I was about to say Grandma’s Boy. That would be like pouring gasoline on a fire. And then jumping into the fire.

  “Such a what?” she asks me.

  “Um… a poot-butt.” G-ma gives me a look. “I mean, an easy mark, G-ma,” I say. “It wasn’t even a real fight. We were just messing around, and I guess it got out of hand.”

  It feels good to tell her all that instead of another lie. But it doesn’t get me very far. She’s already pacing around the kitchen again.

  “Well, until you can learn not to let things get out of hand, you’re grounded, mister,” she says.

  I don’t even try to argue. There’s no such thing as winning an argument with G-ma. Talking about it just makes you lose slower.

  And then, just when I think it’s over, she says, “Except for the chess.”

  “Excuse me?” I say.

  “That’s the one thing you may continue to do,” G-ma says. “I’d hate to disappoint that nice young man. What was his name, Raymond?”

  “Ray-Ray,” I say.

  “Yes, well, there’s no reason he needs to suffer because you can’t behave,” G-ma says.

  “But—”

  “You’re going to see those lessons through, and that’s that!” G-ma says. Then she walks right out of the room.

  Just before my brain goes… BOOM!

  39

  SOME KIND OF MISTAKE

  40

  DOUBLE TROUBLE

  YOU TOO?

  The next day, I ask Arthur if he wants to play chess at lunch, and he’s like, “Whatever.”

  Arthur always wants to play. He’s crazier about chess than I am. So I know something’s up right away. And I’m pretty sure it’s about Ray-Ray.

  “What’s up with you, man? Is it about what went down at the museum?” I say. “Or is it because we haven’t had a good match in a minute?”

  He just shrugs, but at least he’s setting up the board. Dele and Vashon are there, too, and they’re both looking at me like I just stepped out of a flying saucer with three eyeballs plastered on my forehead, and a butt where my nose should be, plus… I stink. Real alien funk, man.

  “What?” I say. “Ray-Ray? It’s not like we’ve been hanging out a lot. I just told Dr. Yetty I’d teach—”

  “Ray-Ray, yeah. You already said,” Vashon tells me. “Don’t worry about it, Kenny. It’s a free world.”

  So I go with the same vibe they’re throwing. “Okay, whatever,” I say, and start setting up my pieces on the home row.

  “Why do you even want to hang with him, anyway?” Dele asks me after a couple of moves.

  I don’t know what to say to that. These guys know about why I’m teaching Ray-Ray, but I haven’t told them anything about what he’s teaching me. I mean, what am I going to say—that I’m getting anti-wimp lessons? He’s showing me how not to be a Grandma’s Boy?

  Yeah, that’s not too embarrassing.

  It’s like some other kind of chess, where the pieces are secrets and I’m playing as hard as I can to protect the most important ones. So far, though, all it’s gotten me is a bunch of ticked-off people. (And one exploded brain.)

  “Anyway,” I tell everyone, “Ray-Ray’s not so bad, once you get to know him. He’s not nearly as annoying as I thought.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Vashon says, and points to the other side of the cafeteria.

  When I turn around, Ray-Ray’s sliding this girl’s whole lunch tray off her table while she’s tying her shoe. He spots me watching him, gives me a nod, and disappears into the Sugar Shack crowd.

  “Seems pretty annoying to me,” Arthur says.

  “Well, we’re going to be done with the chess soon,” I say. “Promise.”

  Dele and Vashon aren’t even listening anymore, and Arthur just castles his king without saying anything.

  I’m starting to feel about as popular as day-old meat loaf around here. So I don’t stick around.

  “I’ll catch y’all later,” I say.

  “Whatever,” Arthur says.

  The one other thing I do before I leave the cafeteria is stop at that girl’s table.

  “Here,” I say. “You can have my sandwich.”

  I think her name’s Rosa. She looks up at me like she’s going to cry, and to tell you the truth, that’s the last thing I want to deal with right now. So I drop the sandwich on the table and keep going.

  By the time I leave the cafeteria, I feel like the scum that scum wipes off its own shoes at the end of the day. At least I know what my next move is.

  WHAT’S UP WITH THAT?

  Why’d you have to take that girl’s lunch?” I say when I hook up with Ray-Ray for chess that day.

  “I was hungry,” he says. Like that explains everything.

  “It wasn’t cool at all, man,” I say.

  “Why not? I did it to you,” he says.

  “Yeah, and look where it got me,” I say.

  Ray-Ray laughs like that’s a good one. Then he reaches over and breaks off half the brownie on my side of the table.

  “You know what, Ray-Ray?” I say. “I don’t want to do those other lessons anymore. I quit.”

  “Serious?” he says. “What’s the deal? We still good, right? Me and you?” The way he talks and chews that brownie at the same time, it looks like he’s got a mouth full of mud.

  “It’s messing me up. I’m maaaaad grounded. And it’s, like, the opposite of good. Being cooped up in the house is a bad look. I can’t afford to keep getting in trouble.”

  “What about the trouble you’ve been getting out of?” he says. “When was the last time anyone stuck you in a locker?”

  “Well—” I say.

  “Or jabbed you in the kidneys? Tied your shoelaces together? Slapped a ‘kick me’ sign on your back?”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Or called you Grandma’s Boy? Or swiped your chair? Or knocked down your—”

  “Okay, okay,” I say. “I get it. I’m a walking target.”

  “Wrong,” Ray-Ray says. “You were a walking target.” Then he sits back and puts his hands behind his head like he’s Donald Trump, with chocolate-covered teeth, and minus the swamp-rat-looking hairpiece.

  “So maybe Ray-Ray knows what he’s doing,” he says.

  “Well, I hope so,” Dr. Yetty says. She just appeared out of nowhere. Maybe she’s a mutant or a magician or something. Dang!

  I just about jump out of my kicks. I’m wondering—how long has she been standing there in the door? How much did she hear? And also, what are the chances she’d let us put a bell on her expensive-looking shoes so we can hear her coming from now on?

  “Ray-Ray, are you ready for our first chess game?” she says.

  “You know it,” Ray-Ray says. “Don’t worry, Dr. Y. I got this.”

  He’s acting just as cool and confident as he tells me to be all the time. So maybe Ray-Ray’s a decent teacher after all.

  Because even I believe him.

  RAY-RAY VS. DR. Y.

  I shouldn’t have believed him. Ray-Ray and Dr. Yetty’s game lasts about forty-five seconds. That bamma didn’t stand a chance.

  He puts a pawn out. She puts a pawn out.

  Ray-Ray moves his knight. She moves her bishop.

  Then Ray-Ray stops and looks around. His knee is bouncing up and down, and I can tell he’s trying to figure something out.

  The rules are, he has to get through a game—win, lose, or draw, but without asking any questions or making any illegal moves.

 
And I can’t say a word. Dr. Yetty told me I could watch, but I have to sit behind Ray-Ray and keep my mouth shut. I’m keeping my fingers crossed, too. This is my chance to put all this Ray-Ray stuff behind me, once and for all.

  Then on his third move, Ray-Ray jumps his queen over some pawns and sets her down on the other side. In chess, that’s about as legal as setting the board on fire. And I’m like, Dude… really?

  “Are you sure about that?” Dr. Yetty asks him before he takes his hand off the queen.

  And now I’m like, Dude… what the…

  Ray-Ray looks at her. He smiles like she’s trying to psych him out. Then he takes his hand off the queen and sits back.

  “I’m sorry, Ray-Ray,” Dr. Yetty tells him. “That’s not right.”

  “Aw, man, I thought I had it,” Ray-Ray says.

  I thought he had it, too. But that wrong move came out of nowhere.

  “Let’s give it another week and try again,” Dr. Yetty tells us. “Kenny won’t let you down. Besides, I believe in second, third, and fourth chances, as long as you’re working to get better.”

  Some other grown-up might have cut us some slack during the match, but not her. She’s already standing up to leave. She turns to walk out and all we hear is the click-clack of her heels, and then nothing. She’s gone.

  With Dr. Yetty, the rules are the rules. A deal’s a deal.

  And that’s that.

  RAY-RAY’S CRIB

  Since I’m grounded, I’ve got to get straight home. Ray-Ray walks with me up Good Hope Road, like he’s got nowhere else to be. I’m thinking, Maybe he has homework to do. Then I start thinking, Maybe this fool has something else brewing in that whacked-out, crazy brain of his.

  “Yo, over here,” he says all of a sudden.

  He crosses the street and goes up to this door between two stores. There used to be an intercom and a lock, but they’re broken now. Inside, there’s some dusty old stairs and I don’t know what else.