The Losers Club

by Andrew Clements

  “Get lost!” Alec snapped, and turned back to his book.

  Luke poked him again with the corner of his iPad. “Where are you supposed to be right now?”

  “Duh,” Alec said, “waiting for the bus—and here it comes.”

  “No,” Luke said. “Think again.”

  Alec stared straight ahead a moment, then said, “Oh…ohh! Right! I forgot!”

  He jumped to his feet, grabbed his bag, and followed Luke back into the school. Luke was trotting, so Alec had to walk fast to keep up.

  Now he remembered the conversation at dinner one night a couple of weeks ago—except he had been eating and reading and listening all at the same time…but mostly reading. It was a Wimpy Kid book, so he’d been laughing, too.

  Still, he recalled his mom and dad explaining that they were each starting new jobs in September—jobs at two different companies near Boston. Which meant they would both have to drive to work every day.

  His parents were computer programmers, and for the past eleven years they had worked from home. So this was a big change. And since neither of them would get home from work until almost dinnertime, Alec and Luke had been enrolled in the Extended Day Program—three extra hours at school every afternoon.

  Hurrying along behind his brother, Alec felt kind of pleased with himself. Because even though the craziness of this first day had made him forget, and even though he didn’t have all the details clear in his mind, he had captured most of the important ideas—which was sort of the way it felt when he took math tests…and science and language arts and social studies tests. Except that was going to have to change—and when the letter from Mrs. Vance arrived at home? There would be fireworks…the bad kind.

  When they got to where the two main corridors crossed, Luke stopped.

  Alec said, “How come you came looking for me at the bus stop?”

  “Because after dinner last night, Mom told me I had to check up on you.”

  “Oh.”

  Luke pointed. “You go to the gym. I’ll be in the cafeteria.”

  “What? How come?”

  “Because of the directions in the booklet they sent us,” Luke said. “Kindergarten through third-grade kids report to the cafeteria, and fourth, fifth, and sixth graders report to the gym. Did you pack a snack this morning?”

  Alec’s face was blank. “Snack?”

  “Yes, ‘snack’—that’s what humans call food they eat in between their main meals.”

  For a nerdy third grader, Luke was getting pretty good at sarcasm. Alec smiled. “No—no snack.”

  Luke reached into his backpack and handed Alec a granola bar and a box of apple juice.

  Alec made a face. “You don’t have chips, or Cheetos, or something…good?”

  Luke ignored him. He flipped back the cover of his iPad and looked at the time. “You’re four minutes late. If you don’t check in by seven minutes after three, they call the school office and the parents, and if you’re more than fifteen minutes late, they alert the police. Mom’s picking us up outside the gym at six.” Then he turned and trotted toward the cafeteria.

  Alec marched straight ahead. The door of the gym was only about a minute away, and during that short walk he realized something.

  When this idea had first come up back in August, he had been sure that three extra hours at school had to be the worst possible way to end each day. But if sixth grade was really going to be the way today had just been? That changed everything.

  Suddenly, those same three hours every afternoon felt like a gift from the friendly universe—his own personal chunk of time, with no one to bother him and nothing to do but read and read and read.

  There was no doubt in Alec’s mind: The Extended Day Program had just become the best part of his whole sixth-grade year.

  Alec got to the gym at exactly six minutes after three. He checked in at the table by the door, then walked halfway down the west wall of the huge room, flopped onto a pile of exercise mats beside the bleachers, and opened up The High King—again.

  Almost twenty minutes later, a voice interrupted the story—again.

  “Excuse me, you’re Alec, right?”

  He sat up quickly. “Yes…Alec Spencer.”

  It was the woman who had taken his name at the door, looking down at him through narrow glasses with brown plastic frames. She had short blond hair and small gold earrings shaped like cats. A dangly bracelet hung from the wrist of the same hand that had rings on it, and Alec couldn’t help noticing that her fingers were long and thin, finished off with bright red nail polish—which immediately made him remember the warden in the book Holes, the lady who ran a boys’ prison camp out in the desert.

  She said, “Did you get the student information booklet about Extended Day, about your program choices?”

  “Yes,” he said, “it’s at home…except I didn’t get a chance to look at it.”

  The woman said, “I see. Well, I’m Mrs. Case, the program director, and you have three different options: You can sign up for the Active Games Program or the Clubs Program, or you can report to the Homework Room each afternoon.”

  Mrs. Case tried to smile as she talked to him, but Alec could tell she was annoyed that he hadn’t known all this beforehand.

  “So, those are your choices,” she said.

  Alec said, “But…can’t I just sit here and read?”

  Mrs. Case shook her head. “You need to be enrolled in one of the three activities I mentioned—clubs, games, or homework. Now, if that book is a school assignment, then you should be in room 407, the Homework Room.”

  Alec said, “This book? It’s just for fun—and I’ve already read it four times!” He smiled, but Mrs. Case didn’t smile back.

  She looked over the top of her glasses at him. “But you do have homework, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “Oh, yeah—tons!”

  “So you could go to the Homework Room and work on that.”

  “Well,” he said slowly, “I could, but I’m going to do all that later, at home…because it’s homework—get it?”

  Alec was still smiling, and Mrs. Case still wasn’t.

  “As it also explains in your information booklet, students have these first two days to decide which of the three activities to start out with. If you don’t want to be in the Homework Room, you could ask Mr. Jenson or his assistants about Active Games. Or you could talk to Mr. Willner—he’s in charge of the Clubs Program, and he can tell you all about that.”

  Mrs. Case looked at Alec for a moment and then gave him a real smile. “The games can be a lot of fun—and if you don’t see a club you like, you could always start one of your own. Extended Day is actually a great place to spend time with kids you might never get to know during the regular school year. But whatever you choose to do, you can’t just lie down over here on the gym mats by yourself, all right? So, have a nice afternoon, and if you have any other questions, I’ll be happy to answer them.”

  And with that, Mrs. Case turned and walked back toward her command center at the main door of the gym. She was wearing a dark blue pants suit, which made her look sort of like a police officer. Except she also wore orange-and-white running shoes, which was not like a police officer. Alec noticed the shoes because they squeaked on the shiny wood floor.

  The big clock above the main door was inside a heavy wire cage to protect it from stray basketballs, and he could see that it was almost three-thirty. In the corner off to the right of the doorway, it looked like a game of kickball was starting up, but Alec didn’t want to play active games for the next two and a half hours—he’d gotten plenty of exercise hurrying from class to class all day. So he tucked his book into his backpack and headed toward the clubs area.

  Five cafeteria tables had been set up along the rear wall, each about fifteen feet from the next, and a tall man wearing a blue sweater was helping some kids unload plastic bins from a storage closet in the corner. There was a small hand-lettered sign on each table: CHESS CLUB, ROBOTICS CLUB, CH
INESE CLUB, LEGO CLUB, and ORIGAMI CLUB.

  Alec didn’t really want to be in a club either…and he really didn’t want to start one. To have to get an activity organized and then keep it going, day after day? That sounded horrible. Because right now, today? All he wanted to do was read.

  Alec glanced back to see if Mrs. Case was watching him. She wasn’t, so he hurried toward the table with the most kids, which was the Lego Club—three boys and three girls. The tallest boy was lifting trays of Lego parts out of a large bin and handing them to the other kids. Alec didn’t know any of them—he was pretty sure they were all fifth graders.

  When he reached the table, he smiled at everyone, and said, “Mind if I sit here and read? I won’t bother anybody.”

  The tall boy shrugged and said, “No problem,” and most of the other kids nodded.

  Then one of the girls said, “But if you want to join the club, you have to get on Mr. Willner’s list.”

  “Right. I’ll remember that.”

  Alec glanced across the gym once more to check on Mrs. Case…all clear. He quickly moved around to the back side of the table, slid onto the seat across from the big plastic bin, and hunched down behind it, nicely hidden. Then he took out The High King and started to read once more.

  The story lifted him up and carried him away, just like it always did, and he forgot all about the squeak, squeak, squeak of Mrs. Case’s running shoes. Even though he knew this book as well as he knew his own backyard, he still loved every character, still loved every twist and turn of the plot. And after a day like this one, it felt amazingly wonderful to know exactly what was going to happen next.

  It was still the first day of school, still the same never-ending Tuesday afternoon. At around five-fifteen, Alec felt a tap on his shoulder. He shrugged away from the touch and kept reading, furiously munching the last bits of Luke’s granola bar. Taran, his favorite character in The High King, was about to be rescued, and then came the battle in…

  Another tap.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” said a voice, “but I need to talk with you.”

  Alec pulled his eyes from the page and looked up…and then looked up farther. It was the tall man, Mr. Willner—the one in charge of the clubs.

  “Oh, hi,” Alec said. “Sorry.”

  “Could you step over this way?” The man pointed toward a small table next to the storage closet.

  Alec got up from the Lego table and followed him, looking back across the gym as he went. He didn’t see Mrs. Case.

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “No, not really. Mrs. Case just texted me and said you shouldn’t be at a club table if you’re not participating in the activity.”

  “I asked the kids if I could sit there and read, and they said they didn’t mind. And I didn’t bother them—at least I don’t think I did.”

  Mr. Willner said, “Why don’t you go to the Homework Room? I know you can read in there.”

  “Yeah, except Mrs. Case says that’s only okay if it’s homework reading. But I want to do my homework at home, at night. Right now I just want to read.”

  “So you didn’t spot a club you’d like to join?”

  Alec shook his head. “No.”

  “Robotics is really fun stuff. Do you like math and science?”

  Alec shook his head again, but he felt bad—the guy was trying hard to be friendly. He wanted to be friendly back, so Alec said, “But you put together a really nice bunch of clubs.”

  Mr. Willner smiled. “Thanks, but I didn’t set them up—the kids picked out their own interests.”

  As Alec heard that, what Mrs. Case had said earlier about starting a club clicked back into his mind. “So…would it be hard to start a reading club?”

  “Not at all.” Mr. Willner reached over and pulled a piece of paper from a folder on his table and handed it to Alec. “That’s a club application form. All you have to do is get one other kid to sign up with you, and you can start your own club.”

  “Really?” said Alec.

  “Really.”

  Alec took a quick look at the form. “This is great!”

  Mr. Willner got out his phone, opened a text window, and spoke the words out loud as he tapped: “ ‘Hi, Mrs. Case. I talked with Alec, and I’m helping him find a place in the Clubs Program.’ ” He tapped the screen, and his phone made a swoosh sound. “There. Now the director knows you’re working with me.”

  “Thanks!” Alec said.

  Mr. Willner’s phone made a loud ding—a reply. He looked at the screen. “Mrs. Case says, ‘Good. Just be sure Alec knows that if he hasn’t found an activity by six o’clock tomorrow, then I’ll have to choose one for him.’ ”

  Mr. Willner put his phone back in his pocket. “So there it is: You’ve got till six o’clock tomorrow.”

  Alec said, “But all I need is one other kid, right?”

  “Yes,” said Mr. Willner. “One other kid.” He paused, then said, “However, the program director has final approval for any new clubs.”

  “You mean, Mrs. Case?” Alec asked.

  “That’s right,” he said, “Mrs. Case.”

  I just need to find one other kid—before six o’clock tomorrow.

  As Mr. Willner walked over to help at the robotics table, Alec looked at the clock again. It was only five-thirty, so he had some time right now. He sat down on the floor and read the club application form.

  One sentence stood out to him: Any student attending Extended Day may join any club at any time.

  So if he got a new club started, he could end up at a table loaded with kids! And a bunch of kids usually meant a bunch of talking and goofing around…lots of interruptions. Which wouldn’t make reading impossible, just more difficult—like trying to read in the same room with his little brother.

  It would be great to keep the club small—and the best? A total membership of two! But how? How could he keep kids away from something as awesome as a reading club?

  Then Alec smiled. The answer seemed obvious: Instead of calling it a reading club, he was going to call it something else.

  On the application form, he filled out the name and the purpose of the club, and at the bottom he signed his name on one of the two lines labeled Founding Members.

  Then Alec stood up, and for the first time, he took a careful look at the other Extended Day kids. He estimated that there were between forty and fifty boys and girls in the gym—all fourth, fifth, and sixth graders. Alec was able to pick out a few sixth graders he knew, but no one he would really call a friend. The truth was, Alec had spent much more time with books during the past five years than he’d spent hanging around with other kids.

  A burst of cheering at the kickball area pulled Alec’s attention to the far corner, and there, just rounding third base and charging for home plate, he saw Kent Blair.

  Three extra hours every day in the same room with Kent? Not good.

  True, the gym was a very big room, but Kent had a way of taking more than his share of everything. While Alec was grumbling to himself about Kent, he spotted someone else—Dave Hampton, back along the wall beyond the kickball diamond.

  Dave lived just around the corner from him, and, like Kent, he had been a friend starting all the way back in preschool. When they were little, Alec and Kent and Dave had played together a lot—they had even gone to swimming camp one summer, splashing around a pool every afternoon for two weeks.

  The difference between Kent and Dave? Dave was still a nice guy.

  Alec walked across the gym to the games corner. At first he thought he might have to wait for a break in the action to get a chance to talk with Dave. But then he saw there wasn’t a real game going on. It was more like a kickball exhibition, with Kent as the main attraction. Every time he booted a big kick, three or four girls would jump up and clap and yell, “Yay! Go, Kent, go!” Girls seemed interested in everything Kent did—something Alec had noticed before.

  Dave walked toward the drinking fountain, and Alec hurried over and pulled
him aside.

  “Hey, Dave—how’s it going?”

  Dave smiled, surprised. “Hi! I didn’t know you were in Extended Day.”

  “Yeah, I just started this year,” Alec said. “So, listen, I’ve got an idea.” He held out the application and said, “How about the two of us start a new club? We have to get it going in a hurry—like, today—because we’ve only got till tomorrow to get enrolled in an activity. All you have to do is sign, down there next to my name.”

  As Dave took the application, a hand reached over his shoulder and snatched the paper away.

  It was Kent. “Hey, look at this—me and Alec and Dave hanging out, just like the old days! So, what’re we doin’ here, guys?” He took a quick look at the application, and a big grin spread across his face.

  Kent handed the application back to Dave. “Don’t let me interrupt. Go ahead, Alec. Tell Dave here all about your exciting new club.”

  It only took Dave a moment to read the application. He looked at Alec and shook his head. “I don’t know if this is for me. It sounds kind of…kind of—”

  “Stupid?” said Kent. “Is that the word you’re looking for? Because it does sound totally stupid. And Alec here? He must think that you’re stupid enough to want to help him start a club for losers!”

  Alec smiled at Dave, ignoring Kent. He said, “I know it sounds sort of stupid—but it’s supposed to. That’s the whole point. And if we don’t start a club of our own? Then after tomorrow we’ll have to join something like Chess Club or Robotics Club…or else play indoor kickball until we go completely nuts.”

  Kent stuck out his chin. “Hey, guess what, Alec—me and Dave? We’re all signed up with Active Games. We like playing kickball, and we’re really good at it, and Dave’s not gonna be part of starting some club for losers, and that’s that—right, Dave?”

  Dave’s face was red and he seemed tongue-tied. He was stuck in the middle of an argument between Alec and Kent, just like dozens of times before.