Philip and the Loser (9781619501522)

by Paulits, John

  PHILIP AND THE LOSER

  by

  John Paulits

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © March 14, 2013, John Paulits

  Cover Art Copyright © 2013, Charlotte Holley

  Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

  Lockhart, TX

  www.gypsyshadow.com

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ISBN: 978-1-61950-152-2

  Published in the United States of America

  First eBook Edition: March, 2013

  DEDICATION

  Charlotte and Denise

  Chapter One

  Philip slumped at his desk. The teacher eyed him coldly, so he quickly sat up. When the teacher looked elsewhere, Philip slumped again. Will this class never be over? he wondered. Will lunch time never get here? Fourth grade had to be the most boring thing in the world, and September hadn’t even ended yet! The teacher looked his way a second time, so Philip took the trouble to wriggle upright again. Mr. Sagsman wasn’t their real teacher. He only came into the class twice a week to teach about feelings, conflict resolution, brotherhood, and stuff like that.

  “And so, kids, what I want you to do is find an example of brotherhood somewhere in your own lives,” Mr. Sagsman went on.

  Philip quietly moaned and glanced at his best friend Emery, who sat next to him. Brotherhood; oh, brother, Philip moaned inwardly. He had one baby sister, and Emery two baby sisters. Why didn’t Mr. Sagsman teach about sisterhood and how to put up with it? That would have been something worth learning, instead of his making the class write a whole page about some kind of brotherhood in their lives. Philip didn’t even know what Mr. Sagsman was talking about. He hoped Emery would be able to clue him in.

  Suddenly, a jolting crash came from outside the classroom. Philip sat up again. At last! Something interesting to break the monotony. Mr. Sagsman walked over and opened the classroom door, and from where he sat, Philip saw a boy lying on top of an upside-down, single desk, trying to get untangled from the four upright legs of the desk.

  “What in the world happened?” Mr. Sagsman asked, stepping outside to help the boy to his feet.

  Philip noticed Emery put his head down on one arm and cover the top of his head with his other arm. Philip looked back at the doorway. Mr. Sagsman led the boy into the room.

  “Are you all right?” Mr. Sagsman asked. “What happened?”

  The boy smiled, and Philip could see one of his big front teeth had a chip out of it. The boy’s hair looked like his mother forgot to make him comb it. The boy gave a loud sniff, scratched above his right ear, and said, “I fell down.”

  The class laughed. Mr. Sagsman shushed them. “What do you mean you fell down?”

  “Well,” the boy said slowly, scratching the other side of his head above his left ear. “I was pushing this desk to Ms. Bethal’s class. She’s my new fourth grade teacher, and this is my first day here, and that’s gonna be my desk.”

  New in school, Philip thought. No wonder he hadn’t seen him before.

  “I was pushing it and . . . and . . .” The boy wobbled his hands around in front of him for a few seconds. “. . . it fell over.”

  The class laughed again.

  “You were pushing the desk, and it fell over?”

  “Yep,” the boy nodded. “It went . . .” He flipped one hand over the other. “. . . over. Boom!” The boy smiled at the laughing children, pleased to be entertaining them.

  Mr. Sagsman looked at the class and shook his head. “Stop.” He turned back to the boy. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, I didn’t go . . . boom! The table went . . . boom!” He said boom real loud and gave a loud yuk yuk after the second boom, and the class laughed even harder.

  “All right. All right, enough,” said Mr. Sagsman. Philip wondered why teachers didn’t have the same sense of humor as their students. Mr. Sagsman, especially. “Come on. Let me help you.” Mr. Sagsman took the boy into the hall and righted the desk for him. “Be careful now.”

  The boy stared back into the classroom and said, “No more booms?”

  “No more booms,” Mr. Sagsman responded over the laughter of the class. He turned away from the boy and reentered the classroom. The boy followed Mr. Sagsman to the door. “Boom!” he cried again and joined in with the wildly laughing children in front of him.

  “Young man,” Mr. Sagsman began. Philip saw this boy knew what young man meant. The boy turned away and got behind the desk and pushed it out of sight. “All right, class. We still have ten minutes. Let me finish explaining your assignment.”

  Philip saw Emery raise his head. The class hadn’t quieted yet, so Philip quickly said, “You missed everything. Why’d you have your head down? It was pretty funny.”

  Emery shook his head. “It wasn’t.”

  “It was.”

  “It wasn’t. That boy?”

  “Yeah?” said Philip.

  “He’s my cousin Leon, the one I told you was moving a block away from me.”

  “That goof’s your cousin?”

  “Quiet, there,” said Mr. Sagsman.

  Emery nodded at Philip and faced the teacher. Philip faced front, too. That was Emery’s cousin? The cousin Emery never wanted to talk about? The one Emery’s mother said they’d have to play with every day? Philip glanced at Emery, who sat with his head cradled in one hand. Philip knew if Emery had to play with him, he would have to play with him, too. Philip cradled his head in one hand while Mr. Sagsman droned on about the wonders of brotherhood.

  Chapter Two

  “Where is he?” whispered Emery. “You see him?”

  “Not yet, but I’m looking,” Philip replied.

  Philip and Emery crouched down behind two of the eight dented metal trash cans lined up near the wall outside of the school kitchen in the corner of the play yard. They were looking for Leon.

  Philip sniffed. “Pshew. It really stinks here.”

  “It’s where they throw all the leftover junk from lunch,” Emery informed him, looking around at the wilted string beans, soggy pizza, squashed potato puffs, and other stuff the children had rejected and which hadn’t quite made it into the garbage cans.

  “I gotta move somewhere else. It’s really bad right here.” Still squatting, Philip shuffled toward another garbage can. Suddenly, he slipped on something and lost his balance. “Whoa!” When he grabbed the top of the nearest garbage can, his hand sank into something soft. “Yuck,” he said. He let go fast and fell backwards.

  “Philip, what’s on your hand?” Emery asked as Philip scrambled back into a squat.

  “Nothing,” said Philip, looking for someplace to wipe his hand.

  “Yeeessshhhhh. You got lunch junk all over your back.”

  “Lunch junk?” Philip twi
sted his neck around, but not enough to inspect his shirt. Emery pointed. “Look what you fell in.”

  An assortment of mashed fruit, lunch trays, and oozing bread spread out behind Philip. Emery couldn’t help laughing, even though he knew Philip wouldn’t like it.

  “What’s funny?” snapped Philip.

  “It’s Leon. Whenever he’s around, things like this happen.”

  Philip rubbed his old-lunch dirty hand along the ribs of the nearest garbage can. “Some of it won’t come off,” he mumbled. He started shaking his hand to loosen the stuck garbage and make it fall off. “Brush me off,” he told Emery.

  Emery looked around and found two napkins that looked cleaner than everything else. Philip turned his back to him. Emery rubbed the paper softly along Philip’s back.

  “Harder,” said Philip. “Get the junk off me.”

  Emery rubbed harder than Philip expected, and he tumbled forward. “Yaahh!”

  He put out his hands to stop his fall, but one hand landed on a black and brown banana peel and slid forward. Philip tried to jump up, but his quick move only made him slip further, and his right knee went splat! into a ketchup-covered half a hamburger.

  “This is . . . oh smelly . . . get this . . .” sputtered Philip, and he finally scrambled to his feet.

  “Get down,” said Emery. “Here comes Leon.”

  Philip didn’t care who was coming. He was covered with garbage, and he felt like he wanted to throw up. He began shaking himself as hard he could and rubbing his back against the wall, hoping the attached garbage would fall off.

  Leon noticed a boy covered with garbage jumping around doing some wild new dance. “Oh, hi, Emery. Who’s this?”

  “He’s my friend, Philip.”

  Leon studied Philip, now busy scraping his hands against the top of one of the garbage cans.

  “Why is he playing with garbage?” Leon wondered. “Nobody in my old school did. Does he like it? Tell him the swings are empty.”

  “No, I don’t like playing with garbage!” Philip shouted. “I fell down, all right? I fell down. Is that all right with you?”

  Leon gave a yuk yuk and began to shake himself the way he’d seen Philip shake.

  Philip stopped cleaning himself and watched. He turned to look at Emery, who frowned and shrugged his shoulders.

  “What are you doing?” Philip asked slowly.

  Leon stopped shaking. “I thought it would make you feel better if I helped you out. And it looks like fun!”

  Philip flicked a green bean from his elbow and growled, “How could your shaking make me feel better?”

  “Well, if two people are shaking, you won’t look so stupid. You looked kinda stupid.” Leon gave another loud yuk yuk. “Ask Emery. Come on, Emery. You shake, too. Three people shaking, everybody will think we’re playing some kind of game.”

  Leon started shaking again. Philip felt something soft and juicy slide down under his shirt collar along his neck. He bent over and shook his shoulders trying to get the juicy, slippery thing to slide the other way.

  Emery looked at the two boys dancing wildly. Oh, well, he thought. He began hopping on one leg and shaking his arms. Then he hopped on the other leg and shook his head around.

  “Excuse me,” came a voice. All three boys froze. Mr. Sagsman stood staring at them, a strange look on his face, his eyes wide, his bushy eyebrows pushed close together, his mouth hanging open. “May I ask what you three are doing?”

  Leon answered, “We’re playing Garbage. Wanna play, too?” and he began shaking around again. Emery’s face turned bright red. Philip felt like jumping inside one of the garbage cans and pulling the lid down on top of him.

  “You’re playing Garbage?” Mr. Sagsman asked slowly.

  “Yeah,” said Leon, standing still. “It’s a game. One of the players gets covered with garbage, and the other players help him shake it off. Watch.”

  “No, no, no,” said Mr. Sagsman. “I’ve seen enough.” He looked at Philip. “Philip, you’re . . . what were you . . . ? Never mind. The three of you go home. School’s been over for twenty minutes. And you, Philip, go get yourself cleaned up. And for heaven’s sake, don’t play around the garbage cans again. Now, go.”

  Philip and Emery, their heads bowed in embarrassment, headed out of the play yard. Leon took two steps and gave himself a shake. He took another few steps and gave another shake. After five or six wild shakes, some of them right in the middle of the street, Emery couldn’t stand it.

  “Leon! If you don’t walk right, I’m gonna . . . I’m gonna . . .”

  “Boom!” said Leon, waving his arms around in front of him. He laughed and said, “Did you see me fall over the desk today?”

  “Leon, can you walk regular? Please,” Emery barked. He turned to Philip. “You smell.”

  Philip ignored both of the other boys and started running. He couldn’t get home quick enough.

  Chapter Three

  Philip and Emery had planned to play together after school. The September weather was perfect; not too hot and not too cold. Philip had really been looking forward to playing with Emery, but now how could he? Parts of his clothes were soaked with garbage juice, and even though he couldn’t see it, he knew he had all kinds of garbage junk stuck to his back. He opened his front door quietly, hoping to get to the bathroom hamper and stash his clothes without his mother’s knowing. He lowered his book bag to the floor and tiptoed to the stairs, but when he reached the third step, he looked up and saw his mother looking down at him from the top of the stairs. Philip stood still, hoping his mother would simply say “Hi” and keep going. But no, down the stairs toward him she came.

  She smiled at him and said, “How was school tod . . . ?” She stopped and wrinkled her nose. She looked behind her and all around. She gave a loud sniff, and Philip’s stomach spun. He knew what came next.

  “Philip, is that you?” She leaned close to him, gave another loud sniff, and yanked her head backward. “Ugh, what in the world . . . ?”

  Philip had no desire to give a long explanation because he knew the more he explained, the dumber he would sound. He simply lowered his head and mumbled, “I got garbage junk on me.”

  “Got what? Garbage junk? What is garbage junk? You smell like . . . I don’t want to tell you what you smell like.” She put her hand on the top of his head and turned him around. “Ohh! What is all over your back?”

  “I told you. Garbage junk. Can I go now?”

  “No, you cannot go now. I sent you to school this morning clean and well-dressed. How do you manage to come home covered in garbage?”

  “I fell. I was running, and I slipped and fell.”

  “In a pile of garbage?”

  Philip put on a frozen face and nodded.

  “It never ends,” his mother mumbled. “Come with me.”

  Philip started up the stairs.

  “No, no. You’re not taking those clothes anywhere but the basement and the washing machine. I’m going to have to soak them first.”

  Feeling the blood creep up into his cheeks, Philip followed his mother to the basement.

  “Give me those clothes.”

  “You mean take them off?”

  “Yes, unless you want me to throw you in the washing machine with them.”

  “All of them?”

  “Give me your clothes!” his mother ordered.

  “I’ll be in my underwear!”

  “Only if you didn’t get garbage on your underwear.”

  “How could I get garbage on my underwear?”

  “How could you get garbage on anything? Take them off. Nobody’s home. Give me your clothes and go upstairs and take a bath.”

  “A bath! Now? In the afternoon?”

  “Are you dirty and smelly in the afternoon?”

  Philip had no answer. He took his clothes off and handed them to his mother, who turned away to fill up a large tub with water. She wrinkled her nose, took the clothes, held them at arm’s length, and dropped them one
by one into the tub. When Philip handed her his last sock, he turned and ran up the stairs, through the kitchen, into the front hallway, and bounded up to the bathroom. Leon. Stupid Leon. Philip began to fill up the bathtub, and as he waited for the water to rise, he plotted revenge against Leon.

  ~ * ~

  By the time Philip got back to Emery’s house, he thought he had a plan ready if he and Emery needed one. It would at least get rid of Leon for a while. Emery answered Philip’s knock. As soon as Philip stepped inside, he heard a loud crash in the kitchen.

  Emery rolled his eyes and pushed the front door closed. “Leon’s here,” Emery mumbled. He waved Philip on and ran ahead to the kitchen, where Leon lay on his back on the kitchen floor, a box of Devil’s Food Snackwells scattered next to him.

  “Leon,” Emery yelled, “they’re my favorite cookies. What’d you do?”

  Leon shook his head as if he were dizzy and sat up. He looked at the cookies spread around him on the floor. Then he pointed above the kitchen counter to the open door of a cabinet. “They were up there. Now, they’re down here. With me.” He gave a yuk yuk. “Want a cookie?” He picked up the nearest cookie from the floor and took a bite.

  Both Emery and Philip burst out at the same time, “Leon, don’t eat cookies off the floor!”

  Leon chewed his bite of cookie and looked at the other half of the cookie in his hand. “Oh,” he said and wiped the two sides of the cookie across the front of his shirt. He smiled at Philip and Emery and popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

  “It’s good,” he mumbled as crumbs fell into his lap.

  Emery cried, “You’re disgusting, Leon. Stop eating the cookies off the floor. The floor’s dirty.” Emery bent to pick up the cookies, and Philip helped him. Leon grabbed the three cookies nearest him and wiped them across his shirt.