by Rachel Vail
After some cleaning up of the very gluey ninja princess fort addition, and breakfast of waffles made on Dad’s new waffle iron, we all went outside. We had a snowball fight with actual snow and screaming and runny noses and freezing toes. But the silvery quiet of the morning, when just Mom and I stood there alone together, stayed inside me the whole day.
All the way until night, when I heard the plan for New Year’s Eve.
December 27, Monday
“But why do we have to go?” I asked.
“Oh, Justin,” Mom said. “I thought you liked Cash.”
“I do,” I said. “But…”
“And they’re new in town, and trying to connect with people. It’s nice that they’re having a New Year’s Eve party. A lot of kids you know will be there, I’m sure. Please, no more complaining.”
“I wasn’t…”
“Cash’s mom told me that he is in The Screwdriver Club with you. I didn’t know you were in The Screwdriver Club!”
My mouth opened and closed a few times without making sounds.
“I actually never heard of a screwdriver club. Is that a new thing at school this year?”
“I—I—I guess.”
“Well, I told her Cash could come over tomorrow and bring his new screwdriver so you guys can … What do you do with screwdrivers in your club?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Wow, sounds like a fun club!” She winked at me. What did that even mean, that wink? Then she said, “Well, at least it’s not just screen time. Do you construct things? Or make models, or what?”
“It’s not … We don’t … We do … just usual screwdriver type things, I guess,” I said. “Nothing too—”
Then there was a splattering crash in the kitchen.
“Elizabeth!” Mom shouted. “How many times do I have to tell you eggs are not for juggling?” Mom ran toward the kitchen, away from me and any more questions about screwdrivers or clubs.
This vacation is really making me appreciate Elizabeth.
December 28, Tuesday
Cash sat down behind the wall of the snow fort we were building and wiped his nose on his mitten. “I don’t get it,” he said.
All the snowballs were next to him. If he decided to go to battle against me, back there behind our shared fort wall in my backyard, I was in deep trouble. He had all the ammo and I had none, and no defense. I should never have admitted the truth to him back there. But it was too late.
I stood here and made a snowball while I repeated what I had just said: “I know you weren’t the one who took the screws out of my chair because I’m the one who did it.”
“No,” Cash said. “I heard you. I just don’t get why you took the screws out of your own chair. Did you get confused and think you were doing Noah’s? Or, but you said you didn’t want to do that. So—why?”
“I didn’t want to,” I said. “Noah’s not a bad kid, even if he sometimes acts like it. Like shooting me with a rubber band. That stunk.”
“Yeah,” Cash said.
“And he’s weird sometimes. I admit that for sure.”
“So…”
“But he’s also nice and loyal, and he knows a lot about diseases.”
“And fish.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But he’s the kind of kid who, if we took the screws out of his chair and he fell, it would be hilarious to everybody except him. He would be really sad and mad and, like, would feel just terrible.”
“But that doesn’t…” He picked up a snowball and patted it tighter with his mitten paws. “We were getting back at him for you, Justin Case.”
I put my first snowball down and started on a second. “Right, well. I appreciate that. Seriously. And I was thinking you were right. Not just the revenge thing, though that too, definitely. But also that taking all the screws out of a chair would be an excellent prank. And how funny it would be to see somebody splatter all over the floor when their chair collapses.”
“Yeah, so—”
“And I knew we couldn’t just not do it. It was too excellent—it had to happen. And so, I … I don’t know. I’m not saying you’d definitely do it to me if I didn’t do it to myself first.”
“We might have,” Cash said. “You or Noah. Probably Noah. We were still deciding. But I don’t know if we ever really would’ve been able to get it done.”
“You would’ve,” I said.
“Thanks,” Cash said. “You beat us to it.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense, I guess, but I thought maybe if it happened to me, there’d be a kerfuffle, and—”
“There sure was.”
“Yeah,” I said. “And, well, I thought that would keep it from happening to Noah.”
“It did,” Cash said. “It makes sense. You took the hit for Noah. Like a Boss.”
I shrugged. “We’ve been friends a long time.”
“That’s pretty cool.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And you told Mr. Leonard what happened?”
“Well, yeah. I gave him the screws.”
“That must’ve been The Bomb!” Cash said. “Just plunked them onto the table?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It was kind of funny. They were rolling off.…”
“That is awesome.” Cash shook his head. “You told on yourself.”
“I didn’t want anybody else to get in trouble for it. I thought I was going to get suspended, but he said he couldn’t really suspend me for bullying myself, could he? But the next kid who brings a screwdriver to school will be suspended for two days and it will go on our permanent record. So I promised we wouldn’t bring them anymore. Which is kind of why I had to tell you about the whole thing.”
“Yeah, okay.” Cash leaned back against the wall of our fort. “It’s funny how Xavier says you are such a worried kid, but you’re actually so not.”
“Oh,” I said. “I so am.”
“Nope. You’re not.”
“Trust me,” I said.
“How can I trust you when you pull a secret prank like that?” Cash asked.
“Fair enough,” I said. “But—”
“Oh, no! The aliens!” Cash flipped around and pointed across my empty, snowy backyard. “They’re attacking!”
“Yeah!” I yelled, and then we used up all our snowballs not on each other but against the invisible aliens that we pretended had invaded my backyard. After that we went inside and Dad made us hot chocolate. Cash said it was the best “cocoa” he ever tasted in his entire life. Dad gave us extra marshmallows for that.
When we finished our second helping of “cocoa” plus two chocolate-covered graham crackers each, we went up to my room and played with everything at once.
December 29, Wednesday
Report cards came in the mail today. Mom and Dad had some talking to do with each of us, privately. While they were in Elizabeth’s room, I set up all my Knights on the floor and all my stuffties on my bed, in neat rows, facing out. They might not all agree with every one of my choices, but they are all on my side and ready to defend me. I finished the battle setup just in time.
Dad sat on my desk chair. Mom sat next to me on the floor. I knew the thing they wanted to talk with me about was not any of the grades or most of the comments because I got even more Exceeding Expectations than Meeting Expectations and zero of either Progressing to Meeting or Area of Concern. I don’t know what Elizabeth got because in our family we keep report cards private.
But there was something in the Teacher Comment section I knew they would give me a Talk about and that was:
Why did I take the screws out of my chair last week.
I shrugged.
“That is not an answer, Justin,” Mom said.
I took a deep slow breath like Mom always says I should do when I feel worried or stressed. Slow it down, she always says.
“Justin, we’re waiting,” Dad said.
“I know,” I said, and took another deep slow breath. “Well, The Screwdriver C
lub was definitely going to unscrew somebody’s chair, and Noah was the first choice. Because he rubber-band-shot me. So, revenge. But I didn’t want them to do that.”
“How come?” Dad asked.
“Because he’d be sad. Really sad if that happened to him. You know what I mean?”
Mom put her fingers in front of her mouth but didn’t say anything.
It felt kind of good to talk about it. My Knights, all lined up neatly for battle, and my stuffties, all ready to jump in and fight for me too—they all leaned in to listen to the story I was telling instead of gearing up for fighting.
“And there’s more,” I told everybody.
“Go on,” Mom said.
“It’s not just that I wanted to protect Noah from the sadness. Which I did, I swear. But also, well, I thought if we did it to Noah, he would tattle on us. And we would all get put in trouble. Which I didn’t want. Of course. So I thought maybe I could just unscrew my chair and I would think it was kind of funny even if it was a little scary, so nobody would have to be put in trouble. And then, also, as a bonus, Mr. Leonard would be so busy solving that crime, nobody would be able to unscrew Noah’s chair! So it would, like, protect him. But also us.”
Everybody just looked at me. Snakey and some of the Knights looked a little not impressed.
“So you did unscrew your own chair?” Dad asked. “That was true?”
“Yeah.”
“You weren’t just saying you did it?” Mom asked. “To cover for somebody else or to avoid being a tattletale?”
“No,” I said. “I did it. With my new screwdriver.” I wasn’t sure if I would be put in more or less trouble for if I lied, but I decided on a what-the-heck-just-tell-the-truth plan because otherwise I would probably get all confused.
“That must have taken a lot of work,” Dad said.
“It did.” That impressed all the Knights, and Really Giraffe. They are hard workers.
“Were the screws in tight?” Dad asked.
“Some of them,” I told him. “The one holding together the back right leg was really…”
“I don’t think that is the point,” Mom said.
Dad and I looked at our squiggly fingers in our laps.
“Of course not,” Dad said quietly. “I was just—”
“The point,” Mom interrupted, “Justin, is that we are concerned that you would choose to hurt yourself to cope with a social situation.”
“I was getting to that point,” Dad mumbled. “Exactly.”
“Justin,” Mom said. “You are not allowed to hurt yourself, either.”
“Okay,” I said. “I didn’t, though.”
“Hurt yourself?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I didn’t. I mean, I startled myself, even though I was pretty sure my chair would collapse, since all its screws were jangling around in my pocket and the only thing holding it up was, like, habit.”
Mom smiled a little but quickly tucked that thing away. I saw it though.
“But I didn’t get hurt,” I said. “And I was right, about that I would think it was kind of funny instead of sad. It was funny. I was like kaplooie all over the floor. And nobody unscrewed Noah’s chair by going in early from lunch. So—”
“It was dangerous,” Dad said. “You didn’t get hurt, but you could have, and you’re also not allowed to destroy school property.”
“I didn’t,” I said. “I gave all the screws back to Mr. Leonard. The chair was good as new by the next day.”
“Well,” Mom said. “It’s still not okay.”
“I know.”
Dad leaned forward. “And you know that if you unscrew anything else at school or even bring your screwdriver to school, you’ll be in huge trouble, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know. I get it. I really do.”
“You don’t have to hurt yourself,” Mom said. “Or be the class clown to get out of a sticky situation. And, Justin, seriously: You aren’t allowed to just go around taking screws out of stuff.”
“No matter how funny you think it might be,” Dad added.
“Am I punished?” I asked, instead of Do you think it was funny?
“Slightly,” Dad answered. I think to the question I asked out loud.
My punishment was: I had to go around the house with Dad, both of us with our screwdrivers, and check every screw in the house for looseness. Then tighten anything up that needs it. I agreed that was completely fair. Mom gave me hugs and said they want me to be productive instead of destructive.
It was the best punishment ever. Dad and I tightened everything.
Elizabeth is outside, shoveling the walk. I cannot figure out what she did wrong in first grade to get that one.
December 30, Thursday
Second-to-last day of this year.
Gingy and Poopsie came over to stay with us while Mom and Dad worked. We played trick-or-treat, taking turns being the getters and the givers. Poopsie was the best giver. He gave stuff like a pot holder and three cans of tuna and half the blender (bottom half).
Later, while he was reading to Elizabeth, I told Gingy a little bit about The Screwdriver Club and all that. She nodded the whole time I was telling her about it and then said, “Well, I expect everybody told you a bunch of rules about what to do and what not to, since then?”
“Yup,” I said. “They sure did.”
“And everybody’s been droning on and on, I expect, about the fact that teasing somebody about a strength is fine, but teasing somebody who feels weak or vulnerable is just mean. Right?”
“Um,” I said. “Not really, no. But I kind of know that, I think.”
“I know you do, my darling,” Gingy said. “So, that leaves me to tell you about doorknobs, I guess.”
And she did.
Things I Am Good at Getting:
4. Crazy ideas
5. Good grandparents
December 31, Friday
We got Noah to teach us how to shoot rubber bands. Daisy made a target on the back of our Nine Men’s Morris game board and we hung it on the back of Cash’s closed door. “Too bad we don’t have an ax to throw at it,” Cash said.
“Yeah,” I said. “We could explode a can of soda!”
“That would be awesome!” Xavier said.
“That would be dangerous,” Noah said. “Do you know how many people die each year from thrown axes?”
“How many?” Cash asked, his hands in his pockets.
I looked at Noah, whose eyes flicked up at mine. I shook my head just a little, just enough for only Noah to see.
“No idea, actually,” Noah said. “But probably more than die from rubber-band-target shootings.”
“Depends on the year, probably,” Cash said.
“Yeah,” Xavier said.
“Yeah,” said Noah. “Probably.”
“When my grandmother was little, she took her dad’s screwdriver and unscrewed her doorknob,” I said.
Everybody just stared at me.
“She told me about it yesterday,” I explained.
“She unscrewed her own doorknob?” Noah asked. “Why would she do a thing like that? And which grandmother, Ninny or Gingy? Those are what Justin calls his grandmothers.”
“Gingy,” I said. “She just did it to see what would happen.”
“And what happened?” Daisy asked.
“Well,” I said. “She sat in her room for a long time, waiting, until her father came to get her. She had put the doorknob back in the slot, you know, just no screws. Her dad turned the doorknob and out it plopped. Right onto the floor.”
“Seriously?” Cash asked. “Your grandmother is awesome!”
“Everybody in her family was, like, How in the world did that doorknob just fall off like that? But she never told anybody she had done it herself until yesterday, when she told me.”
“That. Is. Great,” Montana C. said. “When I grow up, I want to be Gingy.”
“Me too,” said Xavier. “Gingy is The Bomb.”
“Let’s
do it,” Cash said. “Let’s take off my doorknob and see what happens.”
We all said yeah and got to work. Everybody got a turn with Cash’s new screwdriver. Even Noah, who only told everybody how to use it a little. After the screwless doorknob was back in the hole, we just sat around Cash’s room waiting, trying not to laugh. It was hard.
Eventually his sisters came and knocked on the door to tell us to come down for dessert. We all clamped our hands over our mouths.
“Y’all in there?” one of the sisters asked.
We watched the doorknob twist. Then clank clank clank went the inside bulb of the doorknob, into Cash’s room and across his floor.
We all laughed so hard, eye goo streamed down our faces. “What happened?” one of the sisters asked us. She was bending down so we could see one of her eyeballs through the hole where the doorknob wasn’t.
“The Screwdriver Club strikes again!” Xavier Schwartz yelled.
“Suit yourselves,” a Cash’s sister said. “More cake for us!”
Using Cash’s screwdriver, we managed to get out of there and down for cake pretty quickly. Good thing we have excellent tools skills.
And good thing also there was no pie but a lot of cake.
Enough for everybody, at least two servings each.
A FEIWEL AND FRIENDS BOOK
An Imprint of Macmillan
JUSTIN CASE: RULES, TOOLS, AND MAYBE A BULLY.
Text copyright © 2014 by Rachel Vail.
Illustrations copyright © 2014 by Matthew Cordell.
All rights reserved.
For information, address Feiwel and Friends,
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
ISBN: 978-1-250-03978-1 (hardcover) / 978-1-250-06194-2 (eBook)
Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto
First Edition: 2014
mackids.com
eISBN 9781250061942
First eBook edition: March 2014
Thank you for reading
this FEIWEL AND FRIENDS book.
The Friends who made
possible are:
Jean Feiwel, Publisher
Liz Szabla, Editor in Chief
Rich Deas, Senior Creative Director
