121 Express

by Monique Polak

  I saw the flash of metal before I realized what it was.

  Jake shrugged. “Big deal! It’s just a pair of scissors. what’d you do—raid your mother’s sewing basket?”

  Pierre nudged Georgie. “You making yourself a new dress?” he asked.

  “I don’t look good in dresses. But I thought of something else we could do with these scissors. Something fun.” Georgie raised his eyebrows toward the front of the bus, where Sandeep was sitting.

  Why did these guys want to keep picking on Sandeep? Did they really think he was the snitch?

  “So what’s your plan?” Pierre asked.

  “My plan is we give the guy a haircut. Sikhs don’t believe in haircuts. It’s against their religion or something.”

  Jake snickered. “I’m beginning to see your point. Raghead needs a trim.”

  “Exactly.”

  The four of us were huddled together, like football players reviewing their game plan. usually, I liked hanging out like this with my buddies, but now I had a sick feeling in my stomach.

  “So what do we do?” Pierre asked.

  “ew’re gonna have to get his turban off first.” Georgie looked up at me. “That’s where you come in, Lucas.”

  “I do?”

  “Uh-huh. You’re gonna distract him. Go talk to him about Rosa Parks or something.”

  Hearing Rosa Parks’s name made me feel even worse. we’d picked Rosa Parks because she’d stood up against racial discrimination, And here I was going along with a plan to discriminate against Sandeep for being Sikh.

  I tried to think of some way to talk them out of it. “What if he starts hyperventilating again?” I asked.

  Georgie rolled his eyes. “We’ll get him a paper bag. It did the trick last time.” Then Georgie pressed his palm down on my right shoulder. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t feel right, either. “Go for it, man,” he said.

  Then he gave me a push that sent me flying down the crowded aisle.

  Kelly winked when I passed her. Was she was just being friendly or did she know about Georgie’s plan?

  The driver stopped for a red light.

  Jewel and one of her friends waved at a guy in the next car. “He’s really cute,” Jewel’s friend said.

  “And he looks nice.”

  “Who cares about nice?”

  When the guy waved back, the two girls fell to the floor, laughing. I had to step over the heap they made on the floor.

  I looked up ahead. Sandeep’s nose wasn’t buried in a book. He was staring out the window. But he must have felt me coming because he looked up. He lifted one hand as if he was about to wave at me, but then he seemed to change his mind.

  I knew Sandeep wasn’t the snitch. And I knew he wasn’t a bad guy. And I knew it would be wrong to cut his hair. He was entitled to his beliefs—just like people, no matter what color skin they had, were entitled to any seat on a bus.

  I heard loud laughter coming from behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Georgie—with his backpack and his mother’s sewing scissors.

  “Hey, Lucas, get a move on!” Jake called from behind him.

  “Yeah, Lucas, let’s go!” Pierre shouted.

  I was only about a foot away from Sandeep. His eyebrows were raised, as if he couldn’t quite figure out why I’d come all the way to the front of the bus to talk to him—when all my friends were watching.

  Sandeep moved in a little closer to the guy sitting next to him. It took me a second to realize he was making room for me to sit down.

  I put out my hand to stop him. “That’s okay,” I said. “I’m not gonna sit.”

  I could hear Georgie chuckling behind me.

  Sandeep shook his head. I could tell he was confused. His eyes kept darting between me and Georgie. Sandeep must have sensed something was up. Something mean. He straightened his back.

  That’s when I knew I couldn’t let my friends go ahead with their plan. This was one of those defining moments my mom had been talking about. I had to stand up— not just for Sandeep, but for myself too.

  I thought about Rosa Parks and what must have been going on inside her head when she refused to give up her seat to a white person. She must have been scared. But I bet she was angry too. and she must have known she was doing the right thing— and that gave her courage.

  I needed some of Rosa Parks’s courage.

  I wasn’t standing up against something big, like segregation, the way Rosa Parks had. But I was standing up for something I believed in. I wasn’t going to get thrown into prison like Rosa Parks, but I was risking something too. By tomorrow, I might be sitting up here with the losers. Permanently.

  “Hey, Sandeep.”

  “Hey, Lucas.”

  Georgie was pressing in behind me snapping the scissors.

  That’s when I sprung around. Georgie’s eyes widened. “What ya doing, man?”

  “Give me the scissors,” I said. “Now.” My voice sounded braver than I felt.

  Georgie’s dark eyes grew even darker. “No way.”

  I tried to grab the scissors from him. But Georgie wouldn’t let go.

  “Fight! Fight!” voices called.

  Kids rushed over from the back of the bus.

  “One of them is armed!” Jewel Chu shouted.

  I turned to Sandeep. “Open the window. Quick!”

  The scissors scratched the back of my hand, but I managed to wrestle them away from Georgie. I knew I had to get rid of them, before something bad happened. “Is there anyone out there? any cars—any people?” My voice was cracking.

  Sandeep turned to look out the window. “No,” he said, “no cars, no people.”

  So I tossed the scissors out the window. They made a clanging noise when they hit the pavement.

  Georgie was so angry he was shaking. “Why’d you do that, you jerk?” he shouted. “We were supposed to be having fun.”

  Jake grabbed my shoulders. “Yeah, what’s wrong with you Lucas?”

  I shook myself loose from his grip. “You guys don’t get it, do you? How come your idea of fun always means someone has to get hurt or humiliated? It’s wrong. Plain wrong. and I’ve had enough.”

  Someone clapped. It was probably Jewel. My cheeks felt hot.

  Georgie put his hands on his hips, looked straight at me and laughed. Jake and Pierre laughed too. Pierre raised a finger to his forehead and made the shape of an L. “You’re a loser, man,” he said.

  Pierre was so close I could hear him breathing.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  chapter fourteen

  WHO’S THE SNITCH?

  Kelly had used her finger to write the words on the back window. It had been pouring all day. The inside of the bus felt muggy, and the windows were misted over.

  I headed to the middle. The guys at the back were ignoring me—and I’d turned down Sandeep’s offer to sit with him. He didn’t understand that just because I’d stood up for him didn’t mean I wanted to be his best friend.

  But when Valerie patted the empty spot next to her, I’d taken it. As I peeled off my windbreaker, I caught a whiff of her shampoo. It smelled like apples. There might be some advantages, I thought, to standing up for what you believed in.

  It was the same seat I’d taken when I first rode the 121 Express. Of course, a lot had changed since then. For one thing, I’d made friends—and for another, I’d lost them.

  Kelly was still busy writing on the window. She was working on a list of suspects. Jewel’s name was first; Sandeep’s was second.

  Jewel threw her hands up in the air. “Why do I get blamed for everything?” The funny thing was she didn’t sound upset. Maybe Jewel was the snitch—or maybe she just liked the attention.

  Sandeep didn’t lift his eyes from his physics textbook.

  “Put Lucas’s name up there too!” Pierre called out.

  I felt my heart bump in my chest. I didn’t like how Pierre and the others were ignoring me, but accusing me of being the sni
tch was worse. Way worse.

  Kelly didn’t turn around. Her fingertip was pressed against the glass—poised to write. “Lucas can’t be the snitch,” she said. “He’s one of the guys who got turned in. Remember?”

  “You never know...” When Pierre raised his voice I knew he wanted me to hear him. “Maybe he had it all planned out. Maybe Lucas isn’t as dumb as he looks. what was it Mr. Adams called him?”

  “Brainiac!” Jake shouted.

  “Yeah, Brainiac might have masterminded the whole thing.”

  I thought about taking out a textbook and hiding behind it—like Sandeep. My cover was blown. Now everyone would know about the Brainiac thing.

  In the end, it was Valerie who rescued me. “Take a look at this picture I found of Mahatma Gandhi,” she said. When she leaned in to show me the picture, the top of her head touched the side of my arm. There was something about the color of her hair that made me forget—for a few seconds, anyhow—how lousy I was feeling.

  But then Pierre’s soccer ball came flying through the air and hit the side of my head. Instead of complaining, I used my palm to send the ball back to Pierre.

  “Are those Mentos?” I heard Georgie call out.

  “You hate Mentos, Georgie,” Kelly said.

  “I need them for a...a science experiment is all.”

  Jake laughed. “A science experiment? Who do you think you are? Raghead? Or the Brainiac?”

  Everyone turned to see what Georgie was up to—even Sandeep put down his book. I turned to look too.

  Georgie had a small bottle of Diet Coke in his hands. He opened it up and handed Jake the plastic bottle cap. “Hey, do me a favor and make a hole in the cap. Now, okay?”

  “Hey, do I look like your lab assistant?” Jake said, but he used his pen to puncture the cap and gave it back to Georgie.

  Georgie slid something inside the bottle— it must have been one of those Mentos—and screwed the cap back on. He put his thumb over the hole in the cap, and then he shook the bottle up and down—hard. He made a hooting sound when he released his thumb.

  Pow! The bottle flew out of Georgie’s hands like a rocket and zoomed across the aisle. It hit a window, ricocheted off of it, and then crashed to the floor. There was Diet Coke everywhere—on the windows, on kids’ clothes and backpacks and even dribbling down Georgie’s face.

  “Gross! It’s so sticky!” voices screamed.

  Everyone was laughing, especially Georgie.

  I tried not to laugh, but it was hard.

  “Hey, Georgie, you should be a science teacher!” Kelly called out.

  Georgie was laughing so hard that he started to cough. He covered his mouth and tried taking a few breaths, but the coughing wouldn’t stop.

  “Hey, raghead!” Jake called out. “Have you got a paper bag we can borrow?”

  That made everyone laugh all over again.

  When I turned to look at Sandeep, I expected him to be hiding behind his book, but he wasn’t. He was watching Georgie.

  Georgie’s cheeks were apple red. When he started to wheeze, Sandeep sprang up from his seat and pushed his way over to the back of the bus.

  “Open the windows!” he shouted.

  Maybe because no one was used to seeing Sandeep like this—rushing around and telling other people what to do—they opened the windows.

  “His lips are turning blue!” Kelly sounded as if she was about to cry.

  Sandeep was hunched over Georgie. “I think his bronchial tubes are blocked with mucus. Here,” he said, reaching behind Georgie’s back, “try to sit up straight.”

  Then Sandeep lifted his head. “Has anyone here got a puffer?” he shouted.

  “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to share medications?” Jewel said.

  You’d think that with fifty kids on the121 Express, someone would have asthma medication. But no one did. I bit my lip.

  “Georgie doesn’t have asthma,” Kelly told Sandeep.

  “I’m pretty sure he does. And it’s getting worse.”

  Georgie was having trouble sitting up, and when he tried to say something, he nearly gagged.

  “What do we do?” Kelly shouted.

  “Lucas,” Sandeep said, “talk to the bus driver. Tell him he’s got to take us to the hospital—now!”

  I bolted over to the driver. “You have to take us to the hospital. This guy at the back’s having an asthma attack,” I told him.

  “This is another one of your games, right?” the driver muttered.

  “This isn’t a game. It’s an emergency. And you’ve got to help us. Please.”

  When the driver took his first left instead of driving straight along Côte-Vertu Boulevard, I made a loud sigh. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath.

  chapter fifteen

  Georgie was back at school. The only problem was Mrs. Papadopoulos. She kept phoning to make sure he hadn’t lost his puffer.

  Things on the bus had changed since Georgie’s asthma attack. Sure, there was still singing and screaming and fighting. Pierre sneezed into his hand and wiped it right on the pole next to him. “That is so disgusting!” Jewel Chu called out.

  For once, Jake agreed with Jewel. “Haven’t you ever heard of this invention called Kleenex?” he asked Pierre.

  The main change on the bus was we weren’t so divided up anymore. Like right now, Georgie was standing at the front, telling Sandeep he thought our presentation on Rosa Parks was pretty cool.

  I was sitting near the middle of the bus. I could have sat with the guys at the back—we were on speaking terms again—but Valerie had saved a spot for me. I liked sitting next to her, and besides, these days the middle of the bus felt like the right place for me. I had friends up front—and in the back.

  Even the new bus driver was getting a little friendlier. We had been through a lot together. He’d risked getting in trouble with his supervisor to get Georgie to the hospital, and once we got there, he’d helped carry Georgie into the emergency room. We had all been pretty scared when Georgie’s fingernails started turning blue.

  The driver had told us his name was Thomas. It’s funny how things feel different once you know someone’s name. I’d asked him the name of the old driver too, the one we’d driven over the edge. Thomas told me it was Gilbert Dubuc. He also told me how Gilbert Dubuc had spent a couple of weeks in a convalescent home, but that he was back at work, driving another bus. “Not the 121 Express, of course. The supervisor doesn’t want him cracking up again. Anyway, it’s good news for us drivers,” Thomas had said. “Dubuc says by spring, he should be strong enough to get back to his work with the union. He’s quite a guy, that Dubuc.”

  Old Quack Quack was back on the bus too. Only this time, he hadn’t come to scold us. No, today he was smiling like the Cheshire cat in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

  He nodded at Georgie. “I hope you have your puffer,” he said. Mrs. Papadopoulos must have spoken to him too.

  I didn’t think much of it when Old Quack Quack nodded at Pierre next. It was only when Valerie raised her eyebrows that I started wondering. Pierre wasn’t exactly a star pupil.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Valerie whispered.

  “I guess it’s possible,” I told Valerie. “Maybe Pierre struck some kind of deal with Old Quack Quack. Like maybe Old Quack Quack didn’t phone home after Pierre blew Mr. Adams’s last math quiz.”

  “We should tell the others,” Valerie said. “Remember how everyone was accusing everyone else? A lot of feelings got hurt.”

  I decided not to tell her I’d thought she might have been the snitch.

  Pierre had been the one to accuse me of being the snitch. Now I understood why.

  “So let’s tell,” Valerie said.

  “Nah,” I said. “All that’s behind us now.”

  Old Quack Quack cleared his throat so loudly and for so long it sounded like he was gargling. “I want to say that I’m—er—” He stopped to flatten the knot on his tie. You could tell
he was more used to scolding kids than saying anything nice. “I’m—er— proud of you people. I never thought I’d say it, but there you go. You people stayed calm in a difficult situation. And that calmness, that composure, probably saved this young man’s life. I also want to express my gratitude to your driver.” He turned to shake Thomas’s hand. “You did the right thing,” Old Quack Quack told him, “by getting Georgie straight to the hospital.”

  And then, Old Quack Quack did something we never would have expected. He clapped—for us. And everyone on the bus started clapping too.

  The clapping was followed by cheering. Then Old Quack Quack rushed off the bus.

  “Calm and composed! That’s us, all right!” Jake shouted as Thomas turned onto Côte-Vertu Boulevard.

  Everyone was talking and laughing all at the same time.

  When we stopped at the first intersection, I almost didn’t notice the bus that had pulled up across from ours. But something—don’t ask me what—made me turn to look at it. I recognized the driver’s thin gray hair and the way he gripped the steering wheel. It was our old driver, Gilbert Dubuc.

  At first, I was too startled to say anything. But Valerie noticed him too. “Hey, you guys!” she shouted, “look who’s driving that bus!”

  In the old days, someone would have pushed open a window and yelled something rude—or maybe thrown something at him.

  But this wasn’t the old days. I was the first to wave. Next thing I knew the other kids were waving too.

  I thought I saw Gilbert Dubuc shudder. Was he remembering all the trouble we’d caused him?

  But then he did something that took me by surprise. Something that made me wonder if he’d heard about how the kids on the 121 Express had helped save Georgie.

  He waved back.

  The Hot Dog Haven

  4200 côte-Vertu Blvd.

  Ville St. Laurent, Quebec

  November 6, 2007

  Lorne Crest Academy

  4243 Decelles ave.

  Ville St. Laurent, Quebec

  Att.: John Mallard, Principal

  Dear Mr. Mallard: