The Friendship Matchmaker Goes Undercover

by Randa Abdel-Fattah

  “He can play soccer!” I cried, and then quickly silenced myself, realizing what a freak I must have looked like.

  Anyway, nobody seemed to have heard me. The boys had not missed Majur’s moves with the ball and immediately made a beeline to him. Then, in that typical grunt/mumble style boys use to communicate, Majur was invited to join the game.

  And just like that my job was done.

  That Majur was a soccer star meant he was in with the sporty kids, and if you’re in with the sporty kids in our school, you’ve pretty much made it. That didn’t make him Mr. Popularity in class, though. Off the field, he was still awkward, quiet, and unapproachable. The same kids who played soccer with him during recess and lunch didn’t pay much attention to him during class. But when the bell rang, they’d all automatically head to the grassy area and seem to forget they’d snickered at the way he’d read aloud in English, or laughed when he didn’t know where Seattle was during geography.

  There was nothing I could do about the situation, so I decided to turn my FMM skills to another cause. I was going to put the unofficial word out that my FMS (Friendship Mediation Sessions) would be starting up again.

  There was a lot of work to be done repairing all the friendship problems that had blown up during my time off.

  Chris Martin didn’t seem to have learned his lesson because he returned to school looking as menacing as ever. He swaggered through the halls like he owned the place, pushing kids out of the way, “accidentally” stepping on their feet or causing their bags to drop from their shoulders. Maybe he thought acting like even more of a pig than usual would put his reputation back together.

  But it was no use.

  When he walked into class, Majur, who was sitting in the back row in the seat Chris had first denied him, locked eyes with him, grinned to himself, and then went back to doodling in his notebook. Chris must have thought twice about telling Majur to get out of the chair because he stormed over to another back-row seat.

  He’d lost.

  And everybody, including Majur and Chris, knew it.

  When the bell rang for recess, Chris jumped up and headed toward Ty and A. J.

  “Come on,” he ordered. “Soccer time!”

  “Yeah, okay,” Ty said cheerfully. “I’ll get my ball from my locker.” Ty turned to Majur. “Come on, hurry up!”

  Chris balked. “What? He’s coming, too?”

  Majur stood up tall. “Yes.”

  Chris looked furious. “You had time to learn how to kick a ball between the bombs and stuff?” He laughed. “Fine, let’s see how you play, then.”

  I had to watch. But Tanya was tugging at my sleeve. “Come on! I’ve got to buy a snack from the cafeteria today. Let’s go.”

  “Um . . . okay . . . how about we meet at the grassy area?”

  Tanya looked shocked. “The grassy area? You mean where they play sports? Since when?” She shuddered. “You know what I’m like around the grass. Isn’t it bad enough I get picked last in PE? Now I have to go to the scene of my pain in my free time?” She tugged my sleeve again and tried to pull me along. “Come on, let’s sit near the fountain today.”

  I was stuck. I was dying to see what would happen out there on the field. Suddenly I felt angry. There was so much at stake here. Majur was a refugee! He needed our protection and support, and he needed me. Okay, so it was hot, and Tanya and playing sports, or even watching, were not a good mix. But I had a job to do and that meant sacrifices. Look up my name in the dictionary and that’s what you see.

  “Okay, Tanya,” I said cheerfully. “You’re right. Meeting at the fountain sounds like a great idea. But let’s save time. You go to the cafeteria while I go to my locker to get my apple, and then we’ll meet at the fountain.” And because I knew I’d be ditching her, and I wasn’t the inconsiderate type, I grabbed Emily’s arm as she was walking out the door.

  “Emily, we’re going to hang out at the fountain!” I said enthusiastically. “Come with us. I’ll meet you both there.”

  Emily shrugged. “Okay.” She turned to Stephanie, who she’d been listening to. “Stephanie, want to come, too?”

  Perfect! I thought to myself. Stephanie will go on and on, and they won’t even notice that I’ll be gone for most of recess.

  I pretended to head in the direction of my locker but then dashed over to the grassy area. The soccer game had already begun. Majur and Chris were on the field and playing hard.

  Chris had the ball and was shifting it to the inside of his ankle, back and forth. Then he flicked the ball to his knee. He bounced it high and kicked it in A. J.’s direction. But Majur was too quick and scooted past, running in and taking the ball. He glided across the field, dodging the others. Chris ran at him, but Majur was like a flash fire. Chris stood panting in the smoke and embers Majur left behind.

  “Take the shot!” Ty cried.

  Majur and the ball were one. He headed into the corner, kicked the ball. And scored.

  His team let out a roar, and some of the kids on the sideline cheered.

  One thing was for sure. Majur was born to play soccer.

  When the bell rang, the guys high-fived Majur, ignoring Chris. They started walking back to class, patting Majur on the back and cheering him along.

  Chris was left alone. He dropped down to tie his shoelaces. The oldest trick in the book.

  “What happened to you?” Tanya demanded to know as we walked into class.

  I rolled my eyes and sighed dramatically. “Mr. Smith. Honestly, that man does not shut up. He kept going on and on about this and that, and before I could get away the bell rang.”

  “Oh, you poor thing,” Tanya said sympathetically. “Well, you missed out. We had such a laugh. Emily was doing all these impersonations. She’s hilarious!”

  “Nice,” I said stiffly.

  Tanya burst out laughing. “Oh, Lara, you should have been there. I’ve never laughed so hard in my life.”

  Chapter 10

  For the rest of the week Chris kept to himself and didn’t join the others on the soccer field again. Sure he’d push kids around in line, pinch them when the teacher wasn’t looking, or copy their work. But he didn’t look like he had his heart in it. His usual in-your-face enthusiasm for bullying was missing.

  I almost forgot he was around, that’s how quiet he’d become.

  Until I found a note addressed to me in class first thing the following Monday morning.

  Meet me behind the cafeteria when the lunch bell rings.

  Chris

  The thing is this: it’s important to me that my head and body remain one unit. Chris and “behind the cafeteria” was a recipe for physical pain, possible limb ripping and blood shedding. I winced just thinking about the kids who had emerged bloodied and bruised from “behind the cafeteria” after getting on Chris’s wrong side, which was pretty much every side of him.

  What the heck did Chris want with me?

  In the past, I’d been granted a kind of immunity with Chris. I rescued his victims but didn’t tell on him, and in return he left me alone. I’m not scared of him and have no problem standing up to him. But, I suddenly realized, that was because I’d always been defending somebody else. I’d never actually been in a situation where I had to defend my own self. I was kind of like a lawyer who has to take the witness stand. I knew I could handle Chris. Experience had taught me that. But I just didn’t like how the tables seemed to have turned on me.

  Ms. Pria had given us a task for creative writing, which she did once a week. I think it was so she could pretend to flick through the curriculum or correct our work when she was really writing her own book. Emily saw it one time when she happened to be looking over Ms. Pria’s shoulder when she was absorbed in writing a scene in which “Chantelle batted her eyelashes, overcome by Paulo’s husky voice.”

  We had half an hour to write down every thought and memory that entered our minds. I started, jotting down my thoughts and memories as they came to me. They were coming in faster
and faster, and my hand couldn’t keep up.

  • I remember the time I rescued Bethany’s schoolbag from Chris Martin just as he was about to pour glue into it.

  • I remember the time Chris Martin stole the preserved dead frog from the science lab and stuffed it in Claudia’s bag.

  • I remember the time Kobe shaved his eyebrows because Chris Martin threatened to shave Kobe’s hair off if he didn’t.

  • I remember rescuing Jack from behind the cafeteria.

  • I remember rescuing Suzannah from behind the cafeteria.

  • I remember rescuing Josh from behind the cafeteria.

  Oh boy.

  I looked up from my paper.

  Ms. Pria’s head was practically buried in her laptop. Most kids were hunched over their desks writing furiously. Tanya and Emily were sitting next to me just as absorbed in their tasks. Emily was even chuckling quietly to herself as she wrote.

  I stole a glance behind me. Chris Martin was staring at me.

  “Don’t forget,” he mouthed silently. “Or else . . .” He drew his finger across his throat.

  I made a face at him and he looked surprised (he probably expected me to vomit or faint) and backed off.

  So this is what Chris did to kids. Fed on their fear. Put on a macho act. Well, it wasn’t going to work on me.

  I was curious about what Chris wanted, but when the bell rang for lunchtime Ms. Pria asked me to help her set up the classroom for art. I walked over to Chris and told him I’d have to talk to him later. He seemed surprised. I doubt he was used to his intimidation tactics not working. Then he made an annoyed face, but by the time he could say anything I’d walked away.

  One time I saw Chris’s dad yelling at him outside the school grounds. Chris had burst into tears. Another time, at an interschool soccer match, Chris’s dad had called Chris a wimp and yelled at him from the stands to run faster.

  If you’ve seen a bully being bullied, it’s hard to stay scared of them. I was pretty sure there was more to Chris than he let on at school. So even though I wasn’t racing to meet him behind the cafeteria, I wasn’t scared or nervous. Not like his other victims must have been.

  After dinner that night when I logged on I found Chris had sent me an instant message.

  The Terminator Hey! You’re not off the hook. Meet me same place and time tomorrow. And come ALONE. PS your profile pic is a shocker.

  Chapter 11

  When I arrived at school I hovered around the front gates and walked up to Chris as soon as I spotted him getting out of his parents’ car.

  “Hey!” I said. “Let’s get this over and done with. What do you want to talk about?”

  Chris looked at me warily.

  “Not here,” he said, nervously looking around him. “Behind the cafeteria.”

  “Don’t think I’m scared of you,” I said. “Maybe this works with other kids, but not me.”

  He grinned but then quickly wiped the grin off his face, trying his best to look serious and menacing.

  “It’s okay,” I teased. “You can drop the tough-guy act with me. Save it for lunchtime. That’s when you work best, isn’t it?”

  “You talk too much,” he said gruffly.

  “So what’s this all about?” I asked, once we were tucked behind the cafeteria out of sight of the rest of the school population. I leaned against the brick wall and Chris sat down on the retaining wall, in front of me.

  “If you tell anyone what I’m going to tell you now you’re dead meat,” he started.

  “Great opening line,” I said, grinning at him. “So what’s the big secret?”

  “I want to hire you to find me a best friend,” he said slowly.

  I shouldn’t have. But I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing.

  “That wasn’t supposed to be a joke,” he said crossly.

  “I’m sorry,” I spluttered, trying to compose myself. “It’s just that out of every kid in the school, you seem the least likely to ask me for help. Since when do you want friends?”

  He looked up sharply. “Need,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “I need a friend. There’s a difference.”

  “What do you mean need? Like a sidekick?”

  “You trying to be funny?” he said angrily.

  “No!” Suddenly, I felt guilty. Friendship matchmakers—even former ones—had to be there for everybody, not just the nice people. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”

  He seemed to calm down. “You still doing the friendship matching stuff?”

  I shook my head. Outrage flashed in his eyes. “What?” he said hysterically. “You just quit?”

  “Something like that,” I muttered.

  “Well, tough luck. I need your help. I need a friend. And I need one now. Find me one or I’ll make your life miserable. Got it?”

  “Okay, fine,” I said, with a casual shrug. “One best friend coming up.”

  “Hey! This isn’t a joke!” he said defensively. “In case you haven’t noticed, Majur has come here and replaced me out there on the soccer field.” Chris paced angrily in front of me, throwing his hands in the air. “He’s changed everything. Nothing’s like it used to be! I was the star player. I get back to school after what he did to me, and there’s not a single person who missed—” He cut himself off. “Just find me a friend,” he said quietly.

  There were so many ways I could have responded. Instead the most unlikely word came out.

  “Okay,” I said.

  Chapter 12

  Majur, can I interview you for Potts County Middle School FM Radio? It won’t take long. Only recess. And probably lunchtime. Actually, how about you leave the next three days free so we can get up close and personal? I’ll do a special broadcast. My Life as a Refugee. Let’s start from the beginning. What’s your earliest memory? Actually, let’s talk about the important stuff first. What is your favorite food in the cafeteria?”

  Stephanie had cornered Majur in the locker area at recess. He smiled awkwardly, but the smile quickly turned into a frown and, as Stephanie kept blabbing on and on, he started shuffling his feet, looking desperately around for an exit sign. I saw that as my cue and pushed my way along the crowded corridor, stopping in front of them.

  “Hi, Stephanie!” I said. “How’s your special broadcast on Lila going?”

  She shrugged. “I quit. There wasn’t much of a story after all. She walks. And walks. And walks. And that’s about it. She doesn’t know why she wants to walk to China. She doesn’t have a special training regime or diet plan. I couldn’t drag a story out of her if my life depended on it. I can’t work a miracle!”

  My heart sank. My matchmaking efforts rarely failed. Stephanie and Lila would continue being loners in class, and there was nothing I could do about it. I was clearly out of practice.

  In the meantime Majur had backed away, escaping Stephanie. I raced after him. Just because I couldn’t help Stephanie and Lila didn’t mean I couldn’t help him.

  Okay, so he was a star on the soccer field at recess and lunchtime. But once the bell rang, he became a Total Loner. Yikes! That sounded so mean. My days of Total Loner lists were in the past. But there was no denying it. Majur had all the signs of Total Lonerdom. Everybody pretty much ignored him off the field, and the teachers had to pair him up whenever we had a class project. He was the odd one out. He never did his homework. He was always falling asleep in class. He didn’t talk much. He didn’t understand any of the work we did.

  Take yesterday for example. Ms. Pria had given us a math handout. Majur sat at his desk staring blankly at the sheet of paper. Ms. Pria went over to him and said that he didn’t have to do it, and she gave him something else to do. I could see Chris whispering and giggling with some of the guys. Then in English we had to hand in our homework, but Majur said he hadn’t done it. Ms. Pria said, “That’s okay, Majur, we can talk about it after class.”

  Chris’s hand immediately shot up and he yelled out, “Why does he always get a million chanc
es and we get into trouble?”

  Ms. Pria always told Chris off, but the damage was done. Majur’s face tensed up, and you could just feel him wishing he could disappear.

  Which is why I had to help him out.

  “Hey, Majur!” I called out, Stephanie safely out of sight.

  He stopped and turned around to face me.

  “Yes?”

  I glanced around, checking that I was out of earshot from the kids in the corridor. “I’m going to offer you some free and unofficial advice,” I said quietly.

  He raised an eyebrow. I had his full attention. “I noticed you never do your homework. Is it because it’s too hard for you? Or maybe in Sudan schools don’t have homework?” He frowned slightly but I kept going. “I can hook you up with a kid in the eighth grade,” I explained, lowering my voice even further. “He sells completed homework sheets. The best part about it is that you don’t have to pay with money. You just have to post something really cool on his online profile on the school intranet, like, ‘Jim is the best kid in school,’ or something corny like that.” I took a step closer toward Majur. “He’s got no friends so he’s in the business of buying himself popularity.”

  “And people don’t tease him for this?”

  I snorted. “He swears people to secrecy and threatens to rat on them for cheating if they tell. I know because once upon a time I was—oh, never mind. Just trust me on this. He’s your answer if you’re struggling with the homework.”

  “There is so much homework and rules!”

  “All the more reason for me to put you in touch with Jim! He can help you with your homework.”

  “Thanks,” he said, shaking his head. “But no.”

  I stared at him, confused.

  He scratched his head. “It is very difficult. I am not used to it.”

  “So tell the teachers. They’ll understand. Ms. Pria growls and roars a lot but underneath it all she’s nice.”

  He gave me a sad look. “What do I tell her? Everything is difficult.”