by Rachel Vail
And there they all were.
They all screamed when they saw us.
That was scary enough. But there was more.
They loaded up our bags with supermarket candy, and then Montana C. started begging her parents to let them all go trick-or-treating with us right then and they could whack the piñata later. Buckey grabbed his mom’s leg and said, “Please! please! please!” like, a hundred times. Montana C.’s parents smiled their very huge smiles at each other and then shrugged.
So that’s how Noah and I ended up trick-or-treating with all the girls from third grade, and also my little sister, who skipped along holding paws with Buckey C., in their matching dog costumes.
When we finally caught up with Xavier Schwartz and Gianni Schicci and their parents, I almost didn’t recognize them. I had no idea what their costumes were.
So they explained: They were dressed as pus. Rarest pus.
The girls all thought that was so hilarious they couldn’t stop shrieking with laughter.
Which might just be the scariest sound in the entire world.
I gave Daisy one of my packs of M&M’s before we went home. It was no big deal, really. I had another pack anyway. But she seemed to think it was a nice gesture.
She whispered, “Thanks, Justin. You’re the best friend ever.”
So the night wasn’t a total disaster.
November 1, Sunday
Elizabeth ate so much packaged delicious low-quality unfresh supermarket candy she threw up all night.
It was disgusting but awesome. I never knew she could make noises like that.
Luckily we set the clocks back so she has an extra hour to sleep it off.
November 2, Monday
There’s going to be an election for class representative.
Xavier Schwartz nominated me. I tried to say no, thank you but I forgot to raise my hand so I got in trouble with Ms. Termini and there was my name, still up on the board under CANDIDATES.
I hate when my name is up on the board, even if it is not under the words: UNFINISHED WORK.
But nobody could discuss the problem with me at home, because all we talk about is Elizabeth’s luau-theme birthday party, and whether she has to wear shorts under her grass skirt or not.
November 3, Tuesday
Montana C., who won the Superstars competition again for October, is also running for class representative. So maybe I have nothing to worry about. She is the most pop u lar kid in third grade.
Even I sometimes like her. I don’t want to, but it sometimes happens when I am not paying attention.
November 4, Wednesday
Today Dad came home early. He wanted to spend some special time with me. I was thinking, Awesome! because there was a game I’ve really been wanting to play with him on the computer.
But he said no about that.
That wasn’t the kind of special time he had in mind.
He thinks I am showing a lot of potential in soccer now, so he wanted to do some extra practices with just me.
Poor guy.
He kept saying stuff like, Good try and That’s okay, it didn’t hurt too much and Don’t worry, I have a spare ball but still, I think by the end of our session he had gotten over his crazy fantasy of my soccer greatness.
November 5, Thursday
Xavier Schwartz is my campaign manager. He thinks I would be an excellent representative of our class in the student government. He got a button-making machine for his birthday last year, so he wants to make campaign buttons to sell for 25 cents each, to raise funds for the election. I don’t know what we would do with the money we raise but he said trust him, elections are expensive. His mother is on the city council so he knows.
He picked me second on his dodgeball team in gym, right after Gianni Schicci, his best friend and the second-best dodgeball player in our grade after Montana C., who had already gotten chosen for the other team. But still, I am not the third-best dodgeball player in third grade. I am, like, the 27th best, on a good day.
Unfortunately, today was not a good day.
I got out by Montana B. right away. Montana B. looks like a first grader, so little and cute with her pigtails and elfish little self. I would have ranked her, like, 37th in dodgeball. Until today. Maybe I still would; it’s just that I sank to 38th. I had to sit on the bench with Bartholomew Wiggins like a total dork until Xavier got me back in.
November 6, Friday
Xavier Schwartz says I have to show more of a take-charge attitude.
I said okay.
But what I was thinking was, I may not be cut out for politics.
The other thing I was thinking was that, in truth, I don’t actually have a take-charge attitude.
I have more of a sit-tight-and-hope-nothing-terrible-happens attitude.
November 7, Saturday
I scored!
Holy cannoli, I scored the winning goal in soccer today!
Dad picked me up and spun me around and around.
He thinks the extra practice somehow made the difference. I will never tell him that I was actually trying to pass the ball to Sam and just aimed it badly so it arced into the goal accidentally.
It is a secret I will keep as long as I live.
No reason to ruin a father’s one moment of soccer pride in his son.
I scored the winning goal.
We went out for ice cream after, even though we’d already had the after-game doughnuts, and Dad got me two scoops with toppings of sprinkles and gummy bears even though that’s a waste of money.
And nobody put wheat germ on any of my food all day.
November 8, Sunday
Elizabeth’s birthday is in two days, when there is no school because of Veterans Day. I suggested a veteran’s theme for her party, and Elizabeth thought that was pretty cool, everybody could come as wounded old soldiers and we could do my idea that didn’t get used from Halloween about making blood with ketchup and olive oil, but Mom said no.
Again.
I think she has a horror of blood or something.
So it is still a luau theme.
Which is crazy, because we don’t even live in Hawaii.
November 9, Monday
Montana C. put up posters already.
They are really good.
Xavier Schwartz says our buttons will be way better, after he unjams his button maker.
Montana C. said her brother, Buckey, can’t stop talking about my sister, Elizabeth, and how she is his best friend and future wife. Montana B. said if they really do get married, Montana C. and I will be related.
The rest of recess was weird after that comment. Montana C. looked as nauseated as I felt. She had to go sit down on the swings by herself for a while, right in the middle of tag. And usually she is an excellent tag player.
November 10, Tuesday
Mom thinks it would be terrific if I could please be generous and help out at Elizabeth’s party.
I tried to explain that I know nothing about helping out at parties, nothing about luaus, and nothing about these kindergartners.
She said she trusts I will figure it out.
I think that woman is way too trusting.
November 11, Wednesday
The party went okay, I guess. They made grass skirts from a kit (and most of them ended up with lots more grass glued to themselves than to the skirt bands) and then danced around to ukulele music while I tried to get them organized to play Pin the Coconut on the Palm Tree.
There was a parrot piñata but when people started whacking it with the bat, Elizabeth freaked out and yelled, “No! Don’t kill the parrot!” So Dad had to cut it down from the tree and grab all the plastic junk out and just throw it to all the kids, some of whom were chanting, “Kill the parrot!” until Elizabeth told them they were ruining her party and she would not give them loot bags unless they shut up.
I was proud of that behavior. I think Mom actually was, too, even though she yelled Elizabeth’s full name at her.
Then
there was a little problem at cake time, because everybody wanted to sit next to Elizabeth for it. A girl named Clementine ended up punching Buckey in the head.
Luckily by then Buckey’s mom and sister (Montana C.) had come to pick him up. Montana C. and I had a little chat with Clementine. Clementine decided after the chat to apologize to Buckey and sit sulkily at the far end of the table.
I still hate Montana C. (I mean, I still no thank you Montana C.) but at that moment I didn’t. We did a knuckle bump on it and took our cake into the kitchen and ate it together while the kindergartners finished up and got their loot bags. When her mom called her name and said it was time to go, Montana C. said, “Awww,” and it sounded like she really meant it.
November 12, Thursday
Montana C. sat with me at lunch.
My head felt hot the whole time.
November 13, Friday
One thing I do not worry about is Friday the thirteenth. That just seems like a really random thing to get worried about. Daisy worries about it, though. I sat with her at lunch, because I am the only one who knows about that secret worry of hers, so I am the only one who can distract her from it. We made monkey faces at each other and cracked up; we invented a whole monkey family, including cousins and great-grandparents.
It was like old times.
Xavier Schwartz made the buttons. He decided to just give them out for free because apparently there’s a rule about selling election buttons in our school. I don’t know who comes up with what there should be rules about.
We could have made a ton of money probably. Everybody loves them.
Even Montana C. put one on her backpack, despite the fact that she is running against me. She said, “I don’t care. It’s so cute!”
I don’t really see what is so cute about it. It’s just a white background with navy blue writing on it that says:
Justin Case:
Just In Case!
Ms. Termini frowned but when we got back from recess there was her button, hanging on the bulletin board parallel to the names of the kids in UNFINISHED WORK.
November 14, Saturday
Dad had a big letdown today at the game.
I was back to being the second-worst kid, thinking music in my mind instead of concentrating on the ball.
He said he was just tired but I think actually he needed some time to himself to get over his mistake in imagining I had developed Soccer Talent. Maybe I shouldn’t have misled him about that goal last week.
It’s just hard for me to convince myself to try to keep the ball for myself when a kid comes at me, looking like he wants the ball more than anything in the world. Because the truth is, I really feel like he can have it. I’m happy to let him have it. I’ll play with it later if I want to. I know I should not be feeling like that and I’d never tell anybody that’s how I feel but I really, really do.
Poor Dad.
Luckily, Elizabeth will be old enough to play next year, so he still has a shot at coaching somebody who might like/be good at soccer.
November 15, Sunday
The battle for President of the Bed is raging. I am trying to stay neutral but it is not easy. There are some really evil, underhanded things going on. I don’t want to mention names but I had to have a little talk with Snakey and his flunkies about how it is not nice to spread nasty rumors about other stuffties and how they smell.
It is exhausting in my room these days, I tell you.
What I need is a dog.
A dog doesn’t care if you win or lose at anything. A dog just loves and protects you, no matter what. I could so use that, and so could Wingnut, who is looking extremely stressed.
I think Mom might be caving, a little.
November 16, Monday
Montana C. came in with stickers today.
They say, “I’m sticking with Montana C.!” in rainbow colors.
Xavier Schwartz was so down in the dumps about it, I had to try to cheer him up. He felt like he was letting me down as my campaign manager. When I tried to explain that I really didn’t even want to be class representative, he stared at me, and I swear, I think he was about to cry. Or maybe punch me.
I am not sure which would have been worse.
So I had to say, “Psych!” which means just kidding—even though I was definitely not just kidding. But it cheered him up. Just to be sure he was fully okay, I said okay to Knockdown, his and Gianni’s new favorite game, which is basically Knock Me Down and Sit on Me.
Maybe it is a more fun game if you are the Knockdowner.
But at least he didn’t cry or hit me.
I can’t wait for election season to end. I am already way bruised, and according to Xavier this is just the beginning. I am not sure how much more I can take.
November 17, Tuesday
Savers of the Universe might sound like a good game.
Trust me, it is not.
November 18, Wednesday
Savers of the Universe was a little better today. Xavier thinks I am so fast if I didn’t already have an awesome nickname he would call me Flash.
Flash is such a better nickname than Justin Case.
The only reason I was so fast is that Montana C., who is the fastest kid in third grade, was after me, and Noah whispered to me that if she caught me she was going to kiss me.
I ran so fast I almost threw up, and I had to go to the nurse and lie down afterward because my heart was so pounding.
November 19, Thursday
Mr. Calabrio apparently saw me running away from MontanaC. yesterday. He made me captain today. We are going to have to run a mile for our test before winter break, and he is counting on me to finish in under 12 minutes.
I wish people would just go back to not counting on me. The pressure is too much for a third-grade boy with enough worries already. Especially now that I found out we are going to my cousins’ house in New Jersey for Thanksgiving next week.
November 20, Friday
Nobody said anything about speeches.
Why do we have to give speeches?
This is called bait and switch, I think. I heard Poopsie talk about that and it is possibly illegal. Ms. Termini could be facing jail time if the cops find out.
I no thank you Ms. Termini but I am still not sure I would want her to go to jail. Though I could not lie if I had to swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth in court.
The only good news is that Bananas won as President of the Bed.
Maybe things will calm down on that front, at least.
November 21, Saturday
Trophy Day.
I tell you, when that curtain opened up and revealed all those golden, shiny, glimmering trophies lined up on those tables, I almost cried. I don’t even know exactly why. They called us up to the stage team by team, and when it was our turn, Dad handed us each a trophy.
I know I mostly stunk again this year but I still felt proud, holding up my trophy and smiling while Mom snapped our picture.
I think maybe that’s why they have trophies. I’m not sure many of us would play, otherwise.
November 22, Sunday
Spent all day trying to ignore the crazy post-Election-of-the-Bed chaos so I could write a speech.
Also trying to stop thinking about having to stand up in front of my class and give the speech.
Also trying not to think about last time I had to talk in front of the class and ended up saying both “Behavior, behavior, behavior” and, even worse, “Rarest pus.”
Well, maybe I will be most improved in speaking in front of the class, and will at least get a Superstar. If you are bad at something, like you yell out instead of raising your hand, and then finally you remember to raise your hand one time, you get a Superstar.
If you always raise your hand, you do not get a Superstar for that.
I say it’s a crooked system.
But I am not going to give another speech about my opinion of Ms. Termini’s teaching methods. I don’t need that stress on t
op of everything else.
You can’t lose Superstars, I think, but I guess you never know.
November 23, Monday
Montana C. went first.
I have no idea what she said, because there was a buzzing sound in my ears and also I had to go to the bathroom.
But I had to stand up right when everybody finished clapping.
My speech was written on lined notebook paper that I had copied over in my best writing with skipped lines so it would be easy to read.
It still wasn’t.
So what I said was not what was in my speech.
I said, “Montana C. would be a great class representative. I don’t really know what a class representative does, even. But I’m sure she would be good at it, because she is good at everything. I am good mainly at worrying, which you know because of my nickname, and also by knowing me. But Xavier Schwartz was a very good campaign manager and made those buttons, which was a lot of work. So, anyway, if you vote for me, then, thank you, but it’s okay if you don’t thank you the end.”
Well, at least I didn’t say the word pus.
Or pee in my pants.
November 24, Tuesday
I won.
I would ask for a recount, but Xavier Schwartz is so happy he fell out of his chair even more than usual, and he hugged me.
I think it was a hug.
