I watched, in horror, as the Coogan Boys chased Stevie Rample around the playground, during recess, for the first few days. Then I guess they got bored and were onto Darren Eckles for the next few, and then it was Johnny Kevner, and then Kurt Timpano. I saw a lot of the other kids (mostly girls) laughing at the targets during that first week or so. Apparently, they were amused by all these attacks. I stood, perched up in what the other kids called the "Crow's Nest" of the playground, and I will tell you that I didn't laugh. Not one chuckle, giggle, or snort came out of my mouth as Coogan and his clan terrorized the other boys. Not a single one. And you want to know why? I didn't laugh because I knew that any day could be my day. I knew that all it took was for one slip up and the Coogan Boys would forget all about those other kids and head straight for me. The thing was, though, that I never really imagined it would happen.
That is, until the beginning of the second week of school, when I felt an enormous spitball ricochet off my forehead and watched it fall straight into the applesauce on my lunch tray. I tried to remain calm and not look at anyone else in the lunchroom, but the sound of laughter and high-fives from across the room told me all that I needed to know. Coogan and his boys had set their sights on me and my heart sank into my stomach as I started to hope that it wasn't for the whole year.
Chapter Seven
Once I was on Billy Coogan's radar, my days at school turned into lessons in how to escape, evade, blend in, and basically appear invisible. The Coogan Boys weren't about to let up so I had to find other ways to at least make it hard for them to attack.
And, you want to know what happened? My running, hiding, and being mostly invisible only fueled Billy and his boys. Most targets just sit back and take it. They don't even bother to try. Instead, I guess they think it's easier to just be a sitting duck. I'm sure the Coogan Boys probably enjoyed that tactic for the first few targets, but I'll bet they got bored pretty quickly. It was simply too easy and, as all kids know, bullying shouldn't be too easy or it's no fun.
Which brings us to me. I'd been running and hiding from my dad (at least when he was drinking his beers) for the past three years so I had a lot of practice. I guess I'd gotten pretty good at it because I was really starting to give the Coogan Boys a run for their money. Unfortunately, I think all my ducking-and-hiding only made it that much more fun for Billy and friends. It seemed pretty obvious - even after only a few days - that Billy had chosen me as his target for the year.
It was a challenge for them, and I guess all the searching made it that much more fun for them. After putting in the hard work to track me down, the attacks must have been even better for them. They must have been that much more satisfying.
So, do you have it all straight so far? The hero of your story (yeah, that's me, Jimmy Stone), who has zero friends in his school (much less even an acquaintance that he knows of) just realized that he's become the target of the Coogan Boys (the most ruthless bullies in all of Boredsylvania Elementary). Sounds pretty pathetic, huh? Yeah, which I guess brings us back to the fact that I'm currently squatting over the toilet, in the last stall of the Boy's bathroom, waiting for recess to end.
The Coogan Boys have yet to find me in here, and I've been ducking most of recess in this very same stall for the past few days. The fact that my ankles hurt, my back is tight, and I think my feet might fall right off when I finally decide to try to walk is worth it to escape Billy. Plus, it should only be a few more minutes until the recess bell rings and I can go back to my class.
I've been trying to be so quiet that I think I've actually been holding my breath, and I'm starting to get a little lightheaded.
I take a deep breath and wiggle my toes (mostly to make sure they still work), confident that the bell can only be a few seconds away from ringing.
When the bell doesn't ring right away, I lean back against the wall and stretch out my left leg to start the blood flowing again. It's at this very moment, when I start to open my mouth to sigh, that I hear the Boy's room door creak open.
I quickly slam my mouth shut, to catch my sigh, and freeze in the exact position I'm in. I look like a breakdancer with my leg out and my hand over my mouth, but it's worth the pain if it means that the Coogan Boys don't find me.
I'm as quiet as I can possibly be as I hear the sound of footsteps walking through the door and over the room's sticky tile. It only sounds like one set of steps and, at least for a second, I feel relieved. The Coogan Boys would, most likely, all come together.
I listen closely as the steps continue to the middle of the room and suddenly stop. The room is dead quiet and I get the feeling that whoever it is that came in is also listening for something. But listening for what? I wonder.
I'm holding my breath again and it's not going to be long before I need to take another deep breath. But before I can even think about how to pull that off, I hear what sounds like a low whisper.
"Jimmy," he says quietly while tapping on the door to the first stall.
I now know two things about my visitor: 1) It's a boy (obviously, he's in the Boy's bathroom) because the voice is definitely a boy's voice, and 2) it's not Billy or one of the other Coogan Boys. This information is slightly relieving, but it's also a bit confusing. I didn't think anyone in this school - aside from Billy's boys and some of the teachers - even knew my name.
"Jimmy," he says again, a little louder this time, while pushing open the second and third stalls. "Jimmy, are you in here?"
I don't say a word and, instead, concentrate on staying as still as possible. My forehead is starting to sweat and my hands feel clammy.
"Jimmy," he says one more time, louder still and this time tapping on my stall's door. "Say something if you're in here." The room is quiet again as he listens for a response. I don't give him one. Instead, I pray silently for that damn bell to ring.
His shoes squeak as he turns and walks back to the middle of the room. I hear his knees crack and his palms hit the sticky floor as he gets down to look under the stall doors.
"This is the last time I'm calling your name, Jimmy. If you don't answer me now, I'm leaving."
He's crawling from stall to stall and he's just about at my door. My legs are throbbing and I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. The bell has to ring soon, right? So I decide to do what might be the dumbest thing I've done all year. I answer him back.
"Who are you?" I ask quietly. "And how did you know I was in here?"
"Never mind how I found you," he says while starting to open my stall. "My name is David, and I'm here to help you."
Chapter Eight
I guess you could say that I didn't really believe David right away, but there wasn't much that I could do about it with him standing in front of me in that very last stall of the Boy's bathroom. He didn't laugh when he finally heard my voice and swung the door open. I even waited a few seconds before speaking, just to see if he would bust out laughing at what he saw. I mean, how many kids wouldn't laugh at seeing another kid all coiled up on top of a toilet? Not many, if you ask me. And, to tell you the truth, I probably would have laughed if I were him.
But David didn't laugh. He didn't even blink an eye - as if he'd been in this position before and knew exactly what I was hiding from - when he saw me finally stretch out my legs and plop my butt down on the closed lid of the toilet.
It's a relief to start feeling my toes again, and I think it'll only be a few minutes before I can actually get my entire lower body to work again, but I'm still cautious. I don't know how David found me in here, or why he even wanted to help me. He obviously knew who I was hiding from, or he wouldn't have bothered to offer his help.
David cracks a smile and offers me his hand. I look at him a little crooked but figure that, at this point, he's had plenty of opportunity to expose me to the Coogan Boys if he were working for them. So I take David's hand and he pulls me up off the toilet seat.
I dust myself off - I know I wasn't sitting in a pile of dirt or anything, but I just feel dirty fro
m sitting in that stall for so long - and, as David backs up into the middle of the bathroom, I lean my head out of the stall door to peek around. The coast appears clear, so I step out of the stall and over towards David.
"Who are you?" I ask in the quietest whisper that I can manage.
"I already told you," he says and pulls me over toward the sinks. He twists the knob, turning on the hot water, and tilts his head toward the sink basically telling me to do the same. "I'm David Magee. We're in the same class, Jimmy."
I try desperately to picture my classroom in my head, struggling to remember just where David might sit, but I can't find him. You see, it's not just that nobody knows my name, but I've really tried hard to just fit in with the crowd. Doing that has made it pretty tough to remember anyone else's name.
"Back of the room, Jimmy. Right in front of the lockers and all the way to the right."
It's like he's reading my mind right in front of my face. He knew exactly what I was thinking, and I'm starting to think that David might have some kind of magical powers. 1) He knew my name (I'm shocked when my dad remembers my name), 2) He knew I was hiding in the bathroom and, I guess, who I was hiding from, 3) He knew I could use some help, and 4) He knew that I was wondering where he sits in our classroom.
This is getting weird, and it's starting to freak me out a little.
"OK, David," I say, leaning in close to the sink so that no one will be able to hear our conversation. "How in the hell did you know I was hiding in the bathroom, that I needed help, and that I was trying to figure out where you sit?"
David's obviously shocked that I used the word "hell" but he gets over it pretty quickly, turning his attention to my questions.
"I told you before, Jimmy. It doesn't matter how I knew you'd be in here. I just knew, OK?"
I'm not really satisfied with his answer, but I decide to let it go and hope that he'll just keep talking. I need information here, and fast, because I'm really starting to think this all might be some sort of sick dream. Maybe I was sitting in that same position for too long and my whole body just went into some kind of crazy dream.
"Jimmy," David says, shocking me back into reality. "I'm here to help you. I know that you've been having some trouble with Billy and his friends."
"How'd you--"
"It doesn't matter," he says. "Just listen to me closely."
Wow. This David kid is really intense for a fifth grader. I shut up quickly and look straight at him, across the sink.
"The Coogan Boys are bad news, Jimmy."
"You don't think I know that already?"
"I know," David says. "I know. But I just wanted to make sure you knew. Billy means business, and when he picks a target for the year he doesn't mess around. He and his buddies will not stop until they've embarrassed you so bad that you--"
"--might as well move to another state?"
"Exactly," he says and leans further across the sink towards me. He's getting in real close for this bit of news and I listen as hard as I can. "But, Jimmy, there are ways to beat the Coogan Boys. There are ways to not let them get to you, not let them attack you, and not let them turn your life into a living nightmare."
"Can I ask you a question, David?" I don't really want to break his momentum, but I have to know. "How do you know so much about the Coogan Boys?"
David looks hard into my eyes and grinds his teeth a little. I guess he really doesn't like that question.
"You ask too many questions, Jimmy. Did you know that?"
"Well, I just--"
"I know what you just," he says and drops his eyes to look down into the sink. "I'll tell you everything I know, Jimmy, but you have to give me your word."
"My word that what, David? Who are you?"
"I was their target, Jimmy." He says this quickly and with no sign of fear.
Could it be possible that he was once their target and he's not even scared of the Coogan Boys now?
"Three years ago. You weren't here yet, but it's all true. I was their target and it was a horrible year, but I survived it and you can too."
"But that was three years ago," I say, unsure that I can actually pull it off like David did.
"Yeah, it was. And maybe Billy and his boys are a little older, and stronger, and meaner, but they're really the same old Coogan Boys, Jimmy."
"So you're going to help me?"
"I said so, didn't I?" David looks at me like I'm crazy. He's offering me his help and I'm so shocked that he even knows my name that I'm almost pushing him away. "I just need your word."
"What is it, David?"
"I need you to promise that you'll do exactly as I say, and that you'll do whatever it takes to beat those Coogan Boys."
David holds out his hand for me to shake on it. If I shake, does this mean I actually made a friend? I wonder if that's what this is, or if it's just one kid helping another out.
"Whatever you say," I tell him as I grab his hand and shake. "Anything to get away from Billy and his friends."
"Good," he says and smiles as he leans far over the sink and motions for me to lean in farther too. Even with the water running, information this important requires complete secrecy. Whispering could be the only way.
And as David begins to whisper his plan to me, I take it all in trying hard not to miss a single word. I listen closely and smile as this year just started to get a whole lot better.
Chapter Nine
David talked to me through the rest of recess. I'm sure we were only talking for a few minutes before the bell actually rang throughout the school, but it felt like much longer. Listening to him talk about plans and escape routes and counter-action was exciting enough to keep me completely distracted from the fact that I now had to deal with a year of ducking the Coogan Boys.
I soaked up every single piece of information that David was willing to give me over that running bathroom sink. He was the seasoned veteran - he'd been through this before with Billy and his friends - and he was willing to take me under his wing, teach me his ways, and help me escape almost-certain embarrassment. And, for that, I was very grateful.
When the bell did finally ring, David twisted the knob to shut off the hot water, snuck his head out of the bathroom door, and motioned for me to follow him. We took the longer way around Boredsylvania Elementary, but it was the route that he was sure the Coogan Boys would never take.
"But how can you be so sure?" I asked him.
"I've done this a million times." He looked at me like I was crazy for even asking. "An entire year as their target, Jimmy. I learned a lot about Billy and his friends in that year, and the one thing I learned is that they pretty much refuse to go past Mrs. Harlow's room."
"Old Mrs. Harlow? The art teacher?"
"That's the one," he said and led me through the hallway, past her room.
Following David, I made it safely back to our classroom, completely out of sight of the Coogan Boys, and just before the usual late stragglers wandered into their seats.
Mission accomplished, I thought, as I had managed to avoid any kind of confrontation with Billy. And with the help of my new friend (friend?!), I was sure I'd be able to do the same thing on a daily basis.
When the last kids made their way into the room our teacher, Mrs. Toleda, scanned the room to make sure everyone was there. As she turned toward the blackboard and grabbed a piece of chalk, I swung my head around to look back at David.
Right in front of the lockers, all the way to the right, just as he'd told me.
David lifted his head from his desk, saw me looking back at him, and gave me a big thumbs up. It was a cheesy thing to do, but I didn't care. I'd made a friend - and, even better, a friend (with what I imagined to be some kind of magical powers) that was going to help me survive this year - and that's really all I needed to know to get me through the rest of the day.
Chapter Ten
"Jimmy," I hear through my barely open bedroom door. "Jimmy." Dad's yelling for me again, from the couch, and I wish I'd had m
y door closed. At least then I'd have some excuse for not answering. I could have at least said I was doing some homework, or listening to the radio, or something.
Trex looks up at me, probably wondering the same exact thing. "How could you possibly forget to close the door, buddy?" If he could talk, I'll bet that's exactly what he'd say to me right now. Instead, he just stares at me with those big, brown eyes and drops his chin back onto the bed.
"Yeah, Dad," I say as I get up and walk over to my door, leaning out into the hallway. "What is it?"
"C'mere," he mumbles just loud enough for me to hear.
Looking down the hall, I can see his crossed feet up on one arm of the couch. His socks are full of holes and the soles are a weathered yellow. I can only imagine what they smell like. The TV is blaring so loud that I can actually hear the speakers buzzing.
I reach the living room and go directly to the TV to turn down the volume.
"What do you think you're doing, Jimmy?"
"Turning down the TV, Dad. I can barely hear you."
"What?"
"Forget it," I say and look down at the coffee table, scattered with a few empty bottles of Dad's beer. I want to try to get this over with as soon as possible so I can just get back to my room and Trex. "What's up?"
"I was just wondering," he says before taking a long gulp from the green bottle in his hand, "when you were planning to take out that garbage like I asked you to yesterday?"
I drop my head, look down at my shoes, and shuffle them across the floor in front of me. He asked me to take out the garbage yesterday? Maybe he's confused with last week - or two years ago - who the hell knows?
"I don't remember you asking me to take out the garbage yesterday," I say quietly.
Jimmy Stone's Ghost Town Page 3
