The Saturday Boy

by David Fleming

  During the commercials I tried to remember the word Mom used when she said was proud of me. If I could remember that, I could figure out what it meant and then be like that all the time and get to stay up and watch TV. I was still trying to remember the word a half-hour later as I got into bed and a half-hour after that when I finally fell asleep.

  9

  THE NEXT DAY no one picked up the phone over at Budgie’s even though I really wanted to play again. I had thought of some more cool things for the castle and it was important that I talk to Budgie about them. I must have called fifteen times.

  “Aunt Josie,” I shouted from the top of the stairs. “There’s something wrong with the phone!”

  “Don’t yell across the house, Derek,” she shouted back. “Come down here if you want to talk to me.”

  I found Aunt Josie in the living room. She was sitting on the couch digging through the backpack in her lap and from where I stood I could see the little cartoon skull and crossbones tattooed behind her ear. Her big leopard-print suitcase stood in the corner.

  “What’re you looking for?” I asked.

  “My toothbrush,” said Aunt Josie. “I could’ve sworn…”

  “Are you staying over?”

  “I thought I’d come hang with you guys for a while if that’s okay with you,” she said, smiling. A pair of sunglasses held her hair away from her face. It was red today. Like a fire engine.

  “Heck yeah, it is,” I said, holding out my fist. “Bump it. C’mon now, don’t leave me hanging.”

  We bumped fists and blew it up. Aunt Josie was the coolest.

  “Can you tattoo me?”

  “Of course,” she said, putting her backpack on the floor. “Run and get your markers, okay?”

  I got the markers, sat down on the couch, and gave Aunt Josie my arm. She pushed my sleeve up over my elbow.

  “Now what are we thinking of doing here?”

  “You choose,” I said. “But it has to be cool.”

  “When has it ever not been cool?”

  I shook my head and closed my eyes. I could hear Aunt Josie open the box of markers and slide a few out. I wondered what colors she’d chosen.

  “Why are you closing your eyes?”

  “I don’t want to see it until it’s done,” I said. “I want to be surprised.”

  “Suit yourself,” said Aunt Josie. “Remember our motto?”

  “Sit down. Shut up. And don’t move.”

  “Attaboy!”

  I closed my eyes a little tighter and clenched my teeth, waiting for the first stroke of the marker. Aunt Josie had a light hand and it always, always tickled at first—especially on the inside of the arm—but after the first few minutes you got used to it. She drew in silence for a while, holding my wrist loosely in one hand. I had no idea what she was drawing—footprints, maybe? It felt like they could be footprints.

  “So how are things with your lady friend?” she asked suddenly.

  “What lady friend?”

  “You were telling me about her the other day. She has a flower name—Rose? Lily?”

  “Oh, you mean Violet.”

  “That’s it,” said Aunt Josie. “And how is Violet?”

  “Fine. I guess. Why?”

  “You a little sweet on her, maybe?”

  My face flushed and I almost opened my eyes.

  “No. I don’t—I’m not… no.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. No. Wait—if I’m sweet on her does that mean I like her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then no. I mean, yeah. I mean I’m not in like with her or anything. She’s nice to me.”

  “Derek?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re blushing.”

  “I know.”

  “Like crazy.”

  I didn’t say anything. Instead, I tried flexing different facial muscles so I would get unblushed but I don’t think it worked because my face and my neck and the room and the rest of the world still felt hot.

  “I’m just messing with you, kiddo. It’s perfectly normal if you like her,” said Aunt Josie. “But I can’t promise I won’t get jealous. And y’know what?”

  “What?”

  “I think we’re done here.”

  “I can open my eyes?”

  “Yep.”

  “Drum roll, please!”

  Aunt Josie beat the tabletop with her hands and I opened my eyes slowly, wanting to prolong the surprise. What had she drawn, I wondered. It’d felt like they could be cartoon explosions. Or maybe bullet holes. It was really hard to tell. Whatever it was, though, it was going to be awesome.

  “Flowers?”

  “Cherry blossoms,” she said. “How’s that for a little bit of awesome?”

  “Flowers.”

  “Cherry blossoms are badass.”

  “What? How?” I said. “On what planet could that even possibly—”

  “On this planet! Just hear me out,” said Aunt Josie. “The cherry blossom is a symbol of the samurai. And there’s nobody out there more badass than they are.”

  She had a point.

  “Because even though they were these fierce, brave warriors who could go totally berserkoid, they understood that like the cherry blossom, life was this beautifully fragile, precious thing that deserved the utmost respect. So riddle me this, Batman—what better symbol is there for a brave samurai warrior than a representation of the thing he held most dear?”

  I looked at my new tattoo. Aunt Josie had drawn four blossoms—three were complete but a few petals of the fourth seemed to be floating away like they were on a breeze, and even though they had been drawn with Magic Markers, somehow Aunt Josie had made them appear delicate. I thought for a moment about how she’d said cherry blossoms were like life because they were so fragile. Then I thought about samurai warriors and how probably nobody ever teased them for liking flowers. They probably never got teased at all.

  “You’re right,” I said. “Cherry blossoms are kinda badass.”

  “Toldja.”

  “They’re the badassiest,” I continued, figuring I should get the word out of my system while Mom wasn’t around to hear it. “They’re responsible for widespread badassery.”

  “Okay, settle down,” she said. “Now what were you saying about the phone?”

  “It’s broken.”

  “No it’s not.”

  “Yes it is,” I said. “I’ve been calling and calling and nobody’s answering at Budgie’s house.”

  “Does it go to voice mail?”

  “Yep.”

  “Have you left a message?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “What?”

  “Messages. I’ve left fifteen messages.”

  “First of all, you’re a butt,” she said, grabbing me and wrestling me into her lap. “And second, if it’s going to voice mail it means there’s nobody home!”

  And that’s when all the tickling started.

  * * *

  Budgie almost missed the bus on Monday morning. Phoebe’s small, blue car pulled up just as it arrived. He didn’t look like he wanted to talk about castles, though. He didn’t look like he wanted to talk about anything. I wondered what happened but didn’t ask. Budgie stomped to the back of the bus and I sat down next to this kid named Arlo who’d eat anything for a dollar.

  “Guess what I have in my pocket,” he said.

  “No.”

  “A shrew,” said Arlo. “I found it at the bus stop.”

  “A what?”

  “A shrew. You know—like a tiny mouse.”

  “You found a shrew at the bus stop?”

  “Yeah. I think it’s dead.”

  “Why do you have a dead shrew in your pocket?”

  “Because I found it.”

  “Yeah, but… never mind.”

  I looked down at my lap. I looked at the ceiling. I looked across the aisle out the window. I looked in every direction except Arlo’s but it didn’t matter because I could feel him
staring at me.

  “Got a dollar?”

  “No.”

  * * *

  When the bus got to school I jumped up and practically ran off but it wasn’t because I couldn’t wait to get inside and start learning. It was because I wanted to put as much space between me and Arlo as possible. I booked it down the hall and ended up being the first one in the classroom. That had never happened before. Even Ms. Dickson was shocked. Also I think I ruined Missy Sprout’s day because she didn’t get to be first this time. I wanted to tell her that this was a one-time thing for me and that I didn’t like it any more than she did but she was glaring at me so bad that I actually got a little scared.

  Budgie and Barely O’Donahue were the last two in from the playground. I tried to get Budgie’s attention but couldn’t because he was mostly staring at the floor. I heard him sit down and I started to turn around and then decided not to risk it. Missy Sprout was mad at me today and she just loved to tattle.

  Recess finally came and on the playground Budgie, Barely O’Donahue, and a couple other kids were hanging out under the monkey bars. They had twigs in their mouths like they were cigarettes and were pretending to smoke because it was cold and you could see your breath.

  “Hey, Budgie,” I said. “Where were you yesterday?”

  “What do you want?”

  “I thought of some more cool stuff we could have in our castle.”

  Budgie kinda stopped. He quickly looked around at the other kids and then back at me.

  “What castle?”

  “You know—the one from Saturday. With the piranhadiles?”

  “What’s he talking about, Budgie?”

  “Yeah, Budgie, what’s he talking about? What castle?”

  “I don’t know,” said Budgie. “Sounds pretty stupid.”

  “It’s not stupid!”

  “Yeah it is,” said Budgie.

  “You didn’t think it was so stupid when we were at your house!”

  “Dude, Lamb was at your house? I thought you said he was your archenemy.”

  “He is!”

  “Did you guys have a playdate?”

  “No, we didn’t have a playdate!” said Budgie. “His mom couldn’t get a babysitter or something. We were doing her a favor.”

  My eyes started to sting. I felt a knot rise in my throat. The other kids were laughing a little and Budgie just stood there looking proud of himself.

  I didn’t understand. We’d had so much fun Saturday afternoon that I thought we were friends again but now he was being meaner than ever and I hadn’t even done anything.

  “But we had fun!”

  “I was just pretending,” said Budgie. “And you believed it. Sucker! You’re so lame!”

  I just stood there. I couldn’t think of what to say or what to do.

  “Oh my God, are you crying?”

  “No.”

  “Yes, you are! You’re crying! Where’s your cape, Captain Lame-ass?”

  I suddenly wanted to grab Budgie’s head in both hands. I wanted to squeeze it until my whole body shook. I wanted to squeeze until Barely O’Donahue and the other kids yelled for a teacher. I wanted to squeeze his fat head until it popped.

  But when the end of recess bell rang, I stood there looking at Budgie without having said or done anything. My hands were shaking. My stomach felt like it was full of broken glass. The wind made the tears on my cheeks turn cold. Budgie and Barely O’Donahue and the rest went past me. Budgie even bumped me with his shoulder as he walked by.

  “Loser.”

  I stood underneath the monkey bars until I was sure Budgie and the others were gone. I stood there until I was the only one left on the playground and I would have stood there for the rest of my life if the recess monitor hadn’t started yelling at me to come back to class.

  * * *

  I might have been the first one in the classroom this morning but I was the last one in after recess. I hung up my jacket and went to my desk and didn’t say anything to anybody.

  “You’re late, Derek,” said Ms. Dickson.

  “Sorry.”

  “Please don’t let it happen again,” she said.

  I stared at the top of my desk and didn’t say anything, which must have been okay with Ms. Dickson because she started talking about something else. I was thinking about Budgie even though I didn’t want to. In fact, I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. Why would he say I was his archenemy? Had I done something to make him mad? I tried to remember everything we did on Saturday but thinking of all the fun we had just made me even more confused and angry.

  “Ms. Dickson?”

  “Yes, Derek.”

  “Can I go to the bathroom?”

  “You may. But make it quick. You should have taken care of that during recess.”

  I didn’t have to go during recess. I didn’t even have to go now. I just couldn’t sit in that room anymore. Not with Budgie there. I could feel him staring at the back of my head. I could hear the small whistle his nose made when he breathed. I even imagined I could smell eggs. But mostly I was frustrated and confused and sad and wouldn’t be able to clear my head with Ms. Dickson trying to teach.

  I felt better once I was in the hallway and even better once I was in the bathroom. I sat on the counter between the sinks, swinging my feet and turning the water on and off. No matter how hard I tried not to think about Budgie I thought about Budgie. I know Mom always said to be the bigger person but I just didn’t want to anymore. Plus, I could eat a whale omelet for breakfast every day for the rest of my life and still not be a bigger person than Budgie.

  I was thinking about stuff I could do to him for revenge but all my plans ended up needing things I just didn’t have like an angry squirrel or a flamethrower. Then one of the stall doors opened and who should walk out but Arlo.

  We looked at each other for a minute. At least I thought he was looking at me. His hair covered his eyes so it was kinda hard to tell exactly what he was looking at. He was pointed in my direction, anyway.

  “What were you doing in there?”

  “Sitting,” he said. “What are you doing over there?”

  “Also sitting.”

  “Cool.”

  Arlo blew some hair off his face. I wondered how many times he did that during the day and why he didn’t just get a haircut or wear some kind of hat. At least now I knew he was looking at me and I suddenly realized that I might not have an angry squirrel or a flamethrower but I was standing about four feet away from something just as good.

  * * *

  I got back to the classroom and went right to my seat.

  Arlo had driven a hard bargain for the shrew once I explained that I wanted to give him money not to eat it. He also wanted to shake hands and said we should spit on our palms first to make it more official because that was how men agreed on stuff in the old west. I wanted to tell him that we were neither men nor in the old west and that spitting in your hand was actually really gross but I didn’t. Who was I to argue with a kid who, when all was said and done, would probably have eaten the shrew for free? I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do with it just yet but I knew it was going to be epic. I mean, the shrew had it all—it was smelly, it was dead, it was small and would fit just about anywhere. Then I got an idea.

  “Ms. Dickson?”

  “Yes, Derek?”

  “Can I go to the bathroom?”

  “Weren’t you just in the bathroom?”

  “Yes. But I have to go again.”

  “Can’t you wait until lunch?”

  “No,” I said. Then I added the only thing I could think of to make Ms. Dickson let me go the bathroom again.

  “I’m having some, um… diarrhea.”

  The class exploded. Pretty much everybody started laughing and the girls who weren’t laughing were making faces. Missy Sprout looked like she was going to faint.

  “Do you need to go to the nurse?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  I got
up and went to the door and opened it while Ms. Dickson tried to get the class to settle down. She told everyone that there was nothing funny about diarrhea, which only made everyone crack up again. I could still hear them laughing even after the door was closed.

  I went to Budgie’s cubby and got his lunch box. I took his lunch box into the bathroom and went into a stall and closed the door. I opened the lunch box and took out his sandwich and put the dead shrew inside of it. Then I put the sandwich back in the lunch box, closed the lid, and left the bathroom. After I’d put the lunch box back I returned to class and waited patiently for the lunch bell to ring.

  Ms. Dickson talked about the presidents for a while and then she talked about European geography but the only two things I really heard were Millard Fillmore and Luxembourg and that was only because they sounded funny. Otherwise I was imagining Budgie biting into a peanut butter and shrew sandwich and screaming like a girl and how I’d be the hero of the school. I decided that, if it came to it, I wasn’t above being carried around on everybody’s shoulders.

  The lunch bell finally rang. I’m not sure how it was possible but I’d swear it had taken four hours to get from ten thirty to twelve o’clock. Once we got to the cafeteria Budgie and Barely O’Donahue went and sat at a table with some of their friends from another class and right away Budgie leaned in and whispered something and then pointed at me.

  I went past them and sat down at a table where I could see Budgie. I was worried that someone might sit with me and block my view but no one did. Budgie and Barely O’Donahue were now whispering to the kids who were sitting at nearby tables and some of them looked over at me and I could even hear a couple of them giggling. Then Budgie put the palms of his hands against his mouth and blew a big raspberry and about half the cafeteria turned to look and started laughing.

  “Now,” I thought. “Everybody’s looking! Open your lunch now!”

  But he didn’t. Instead, he stood up, got on his chair, and bowed, which made everyone laugh harder, and now some of them were starting to clap. Budgie was causing such a ruckus that a lunch monitor came over. She took Budgie’s arm in one hand and his lunch box in the other and led him out of the cafeteria to eat his lunch alone in the classroom but I don’t think he cared because he was waving and blowing kisses at everybody.