Bully Bait
Page 2
Sports? I thought
about trying out
for football until I
realized the other
players already have
something they can kick, hit, or punch.
They don’t need me.
Clubs? I would have to stay after school to be
in a club. Roy gets enough shots at me as it is.
Besides, it’s a waste of time! Especially the Peer
Mediation Club. As if a bunch of bossy eighth-
grade girls could keep Roy from shoving me into
my locker. Please.
Student government? Really? They have
about as much power over school as I have over
Roy.
And band and chorus are okay for some kids,
but they were where my dreams went to die.
But I didn’t tell Dr. Daniels any of that.
I just shrugged again while Molly looked at
her shoes and Karl picked at a scab on his arm.
Dr. Daniels continued, “I’m convinced that if
you three could each just find a place to belong,
you wouldn’t have such targets on your backs.”
Hello? They weren’t on our backs.
That’s when Dr. Daniels pointed at Karl and
said, “And I think I’ve found just such a place.”
Wait. She isn’t going to say what I think she’s
going to say. No, please, no! But before I could
get my brain to kick my mouth into gear, Dr.
Daniels announced, “Welcome to . . .”
“SAFETY PATROL?” I cried.
Dr. Daniels smiled. “Won’t that be fun?”
Chapter 4
I was doomed. And there was no getting out of
it. When Dr. Daniels told Molly, Karl, and me to
swap phone numbers so we could coordinate, we
looked at her like she had two heads and one of
them was on fire. That’s when she told us Safety
Patrol was mandatory. She was going to force us
to fit in whether we liked it or not.
You might think things could only have gotten
better, right?
Wrong.
In English class, one of
the vocabulary words was
humiliated. I didn’t have
any trouble using it in a
sentence.
In science class, we talked
about how a body in motion
(like me, growing) will remain
in motion unless acted upon by
some other force.
In math class, we had this
word problem: “If a locker is 3’
x 1’ x 1’, how many books 3” x 12” x 8” can fit in
the locker?” The answer was four—at least for
any locker I’m stuffed in.
But the worst happened after school.
I was hiding behind a tree waiting for Roy to
get on his bus so that I could get
on my bus without being hassled.
I looked everywhere, but I
couldn’t find him. Or smell him
(Roy uses a lot of body spray).
Eventually, I caught a whiff of grapefruit
chocolate musk, and about minute or so later, I
saw Roy.
He was walking toward his bus when he
suddenly stopped . . . and officially made this
THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE!
Roy stopped to talk to BECKY! He can’t do
that! Didn’t he know she’s MY alternate universe
girlfriend?
My heart sank, my shoulders sagged, and my
knees gave way. I collapsed and immediately
asked . . .
Chapter 5
First, my busybody guidance counselor
sentences me to a life of loserdom. Next, my
sworn enemy dares to speak to my alternate
universe girlfriend. Then, I get covered in ant
bites. And finally, I get home from school, and
Mom yells at me for leaving the milk out.
Our bull terrier knocked the carton of milk
off the counter when she was counter-surfing.
Janice and milk do not mix. Now she’ll be farting
for days.
My life stinks. And it’s not
just Janice.
It’s been like this for the
last two years—since Mom
and Dad split up. One second
you’re a kid and you’re part
of this family, and then everything changes
and you’re a part of . . . what?
It feels weird—like you’re jumping off a swing,
and you look down and the ground is gone. You
fall. And you keep falling until you get used to it
and forget you’re
falling until a
day like today
happens . . . and
you wake up
and realize . . .
you’re still
falling.
It’s not all
bad. Birthdays
are way better
after a divorce.
Everyone feels
sorry for you.
Also, Memaw moving
in has helped a lot. It’s
hard to be sad with
Memaw around.
For example, when I
went to look for Janice to
put her outside, I found
that Memaw had tied
one of those deodorizer
trees to her tail.
If Memaw were a superhero,
her superpower would be
deodorizing. She wears an air-
freshener in a holster on
her belt.
Before I
could get out
of the way,
Memaw started
spraying at will. I fled the cloud of deodorizer fog
to the dining room, where Mom was setting the
table for dinner.
I was a little surprised to see Mom at home.
She’s a nurse, and her schedule can be sort of
random. Sometimes she just sort of appears—
like a ninja—out of thin air. Keeps me on my
toes. Which I’m pretty sure is why she does it.
She works in the emergency room at the
hospital. This means I hear every horrible
story about how some stupid kid got hurt. I’m
surprised she doesn’t send me to school with a
Secret Service detail.
Still, Mom’s
pretty cool—for
a mom. I can
talk to her if I
need to, even
though I have
to be careful not to freak her out about school
stuff. The last thing I need is my mom trying to
protect me from Roy.
We finally sat down to eat. We were having
mac and cheese with tuna. We eat a LOT of mac
and cheese. We eat it with tuna, hamburger,
sausage, and my favorite: baloney. We eat it
because it’s easy and it goes with everything, but
mostly because it’s the only thing Memaw will
eat. It’s filled with preservatives. Memaw says
the preservatives are what’re preserving her.
About halfway through dinner, Mom asks me
how my day was. Like I was really going to tell
her I’m doomed and am going to have to hide in
the basement for the rest of my life.
So I told her my day was “Fine.”
“Fine?” she asked.
My mom has this super-annoying way of
knowing when things are not fine. I don’t know
how she does it. It�
�s some sort of psychic brain
squish-squeeze thing.
My only smart response was to hit her with
WTMI: Way Too Much Information. I bombarded
her with lots and lots of boring WTMI about class
assignments, the lunch menu, how many pencils
I sharpened, how there
was no toilet paper in the
third stall in the first-
floor boys’ bathroom, and
the color of Dr. Daniels’s
shoes.
“You saw Dr. Daniels today?” she asked. “Did
something happen? Why wasn’t I told?”
I always forget there’s such a thing as
WWTMI: Way WAY Too Much Information.
I scrambled. “I saw her in the hall,” I said.
“Her shoes were seriously purple. Bright purple.
Hurt-my-eyes purple.”
Mom gave me that mom-look that says, You
can run, but you can’t hide.
“Mm-huh,” she said as she spotted the rip in
my shirt. “What happened there?”
I decided to play it safe and go back to basics.
I shrugged.
Mom turned to Memaw and raised an
eyebrow. “It’s a mystery.”
Memaw shook her head.
“A mystery is like a pig
wearin’ underwear. Don’t
make no sense till you see
him puttin’ on pants.”
We all stared at one another for
a second. Then Mom snorted. I giggled. And
Memaw did that weird whooping thing she does.
Everything was cool again . . .
. . . for about three seconds, until Memaw
started choking.
Mom jumped up and slapped Memaw hard
on the back. A piece of macaroni shot out of
Memaw’s mouth, sailed across the room, landed
on the TV screen, and stuck there.
We all took a deep breath, looked at one
another, and lost it. We laughed so hard, I
started to think how I would miss all this if I had
to hide in the basement for the rest of my life.
Chapter 6
After supper I watched Dr. Holmes with
Memaw. It was the one with the guy with the
brain-eating amoebas.
After Memaw fell asleep, I swiped her phone
and ran to my room. I use her phone to text Roy
so that I can say stuff to him I can’t say as Nick
Ramsey. Since Memaw’s real name is Maxine, or
Max for short, and shows up that way on reverse
lookup, all Roy knows is that someone named Max
sends him texts that really, really annoy him.
You see, I’ve been me my whole life. And it’s
okay, I guess. I mean, except for last couple years
with the not-growing thing . . . and the Roy thing
. . . and the Becky thing . . . and now this Safety
Patrol thing.
But that’s just the outside me. There’s
another me on the inside who’s tall and strong
and always smells like pie.
One day, I started
wondering how I could I
get the inside me on the
outside. How could I turn
myself inside out?
I found the answer
where all life’s answers are:
in my favorite comic book,
NanoNerd.
NanoNerd was born without
a spine. It wasn’t until he
downloaded his consciousness
into the NanoBot and became the
first android/nerd hybrid that he
truly became himself.
Since I couldn’t figure out
a way to download my consciousness into a
NanoBot, I figured out a simpler way to turn
myself inside out.
By day, I’m Nick Ramsey:
short, shy, and invisible. By night,
with the help of Memaw’s cell
phone, I text as the tall, confident,
and popular . . . Max Pounder!
Here’s what I texted that night.
Nick: Hey, Roy! u r so dumb u sleep
with a solar-powered night-light
Roy texted Max back:
Roy: If I ever find out who u r, I’m gonna sit on u
until brains come out your nose!
As Memaw would say, it’s a hoot to text Roy!
It makes that twenty-ninth visit to Dr. Daniels’s
office, when I snagged her class cell phone
directory, so totally worth it.
After a few more fun texts to Roy (fun for me),
Max got a text from Becky. She may not know
who I am, but she’s Max’s BFF.
Max and Becky have been texting for the last
few weeks. She knows I go to her school because
we talk about stuff that only a kid at Emily
Dickinson could know, like who shot milk out of
their nose at lunch, or which teacher snores the
loudest when they fall asleep in class.
Becky’s text that night was the best. It made
me realize that as bad as today had been, it
wasn’t a total waste.
Becky: They’re making this short kid and this
freakishly tall girl and a fat kid be in something
called Safety Patrol
Becky now knows I exist!
Chapter 7
The next day I got to school early and went to
the library. I like to hide there until class starts.
It’s the last place Roy would hang out.
Plus, I like books. This morning I was reading
Huckleberry Finn. It’s really good even though
it was written a million years ago. It’s about this
kid, Huck, who runs away with a slave named
Jim. They float down the Mississippi River. Lots
of cool stuff happens.
Huck and Jim are cooler than anyone I know.
They look out for each other. Sometimes, I wish
I had someone like
Jim to look out
for me. Like when
I’m sitting in the
library, and I think
I’m alone. A friend like Jim could warn me that
a mutant troll bully is about to suck me into its
gravitational field.
Roy caught me completely by surprise: No
sound. No smell. I guess he ran out of body
spray.
I looked up to find him staring right at me.
His eyes were like two tiny black holes sucking
in everything in their gaze.
I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I
was back in my locker.
It was just as well. Being stuffed in my locker
meant I was safe from Dr. Daniels. And from
Safety Patrol. And, I suddenly realized, safe from
trying and failing to do pull-ups in gym.
At first I thought Roy had done me a favor,
but then I remembered that if I’m late for class
one more time I’ll get DETENTION!
And I wouldn’t be alone. Detention is Roy’s
after-school home away from home.
I had to get out of my locker. And to make
matters worse, my butt was tingling all the way
down to my toes. I had a full-on case of zombie
butt. There was no way I was getting out without
some help.
I couldn’t yell. I’d just end up in the office again
and still be late to class. I needed to text a friend
to come rescue me. That’s when I realized . . .
I didn’t have an
y friends.
But I did have those two phone numbers Dr.
Daniels made me get from my Safety Patrol team
members.
Karl would probably help, but then he’d want
to hang out, and pretty soon we’d both be dragging
matching suitcase backpacks down the hall.
But how could I text Molly? I barely knew her.
She wasn’t going to help me. Unless . . . unless I
helped her.
Nick: I need u.
Molly: Who r u?
Nick: Nick!! Dr. D’s office? I’m stuck in my locker
Molly: ?
Nick: in my locker!
Molly: ???
Nick: A MUTANT TROLL BULLY STUFFED ME IN!!!!
Molly: U don’t have 2 yell
Nick: Plez get me out
Molly: Get urself out
Nick: I HAVE ZOMBIE BUTT!!
Molly: U should have that looked at
Nick: MY LEGS ARE ASLEEP!! Get me out, and I’ll
tell u how we can stay out of Safety Patrol.
First floor. # 187. Hurry!
Molly: U R pathetic.
Nick: Hello? r u coming?
Nick: Hello?
Chapter 8
Just when I was starting to think Molly wasn’t
going to come and I’d begun to wonder if I’d
have to have my butt amputated, my locker door
opened. “Great! Thanks,” I said. “Help me out of
here.”
Molly put her hand up. “Not before you tell
me how we’re going to get out of Safety Patrol.”
I told her.
She wasn’t impressed. “Your plan is that we
forge a doctor’s note that says we’re allergic to
safety?”
“I once got the
nurse to excuse me
from gym for being
allergic to sweat,” I