The bell rings, and everyone crams out the door at once. It’s like they think someone’s passing out free tacos in the hall. I’m squeezing my way into the mob when Ms. Wu calls from behind.
“Ben, can I see you for a second?”
I fall back from the crowd and grip my binder. It’s never a good sign when a teacher wants to talk to you in private.
Duke fist-bumps me on his way out. “Good luck, man.”
I walk slowly up to Ms. Wu’s desk, focusing on the Gandalf bobblehead stationed next to her name plaque. “Am I in trouble or something?”
“No.” She tilts her head, and her black bangs sway to the side. “The opposite, actually. Each teacher has been asked to encourage a couple of their students to run for next year’s student council. I want to recommend you.”
I look up. Me? Student council? Would people really vote for me?
“Your work is thorough,” she says. “You work well in groups. I think you have great leadership potential.”
I smile like a kindergartener who just got a gold star. I can’t help it. A teacher hasn’t ever taken me aside to compliment me before, especially not for “leadership potential.”
“Thanks, Ms. Wu,” I say. “I’m trying.”
She lowers her voice like she has a secret. “I’m also impressed by how you’ve been befriending more people in the class. Some really need it.”
I assume she’s referring to Mitch. I’ve been trying to say hi to him every day before class starts. I even asked him to be my partner last Friday. Our assignment was to create a slideshow of pictures that represented our vocab words, but he showed me online pictures of quadcopter drones instead. I was pretty sure Ms. Wu saw him exit out of the drone tab as she paced down our aisle, but she never mentioned anything. Guess she didn’t want to interrupt what she thought was our bonding time.
“It’s no big deal.” I flick Gandalf’s head to watch it bobble. “I like your Gandalf, by the way.”
She watches it bobble too, and her mouth curves into a smile. “You a Lord of the Rings fan?”
“I’ve read The Hobbit twice.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Impressive.”
“Not really.” I shrug. “My friend Ellie has read the whole series.”
“It’s impressive nonetheless.” She picks up a stack of papers on her desk and straightens them in front of her. “So, the student council information meeting is next Tuesday. You interested?”
“Sure. I guess it couldn’t hurt to see what it’s like.” At my last school, I would have never considered running for student council. No one would have voted for me. Most people didn’t know who I was. But things have changed. Duke’s been talking to me. Jayla asked me to the dance. I’m starting to feel more comfortable in my classes. As long as no one finds out I’m the Spud, I might actually have a chance.
Ms. Wu jots down a reminder on a sticky note. “I’ll get the form to you tomorrow. Now you better hurry to your next class or you’ll be late.”
I pull out my best Gandalf impression. “ ‘A wizard is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.’ ”
She laughs. “See you tomorrow, Ben.”
My worries about Duke float off my shoulders. For a moment I start to believe I’m a good person. Almost.
The feeling disappears when I step into the potato costume after school. The second I put on the head, still reeking of rotten ocean breeze, I’m reminded that I am, in fact, still a terrible person. Someone who lies to his family. Lies to his friends. Sure, I tried to redeem myself by being nice to Mitch, but Ms. Wu hasn’t seen the behind-the-scenes action. The truth is, each time, before I say “hi” to him, my eyes automatically check to make sure Duke hasn’t entered the classroom yet. And the one time I invited Mitch to be my partner was the day Duke just happened to be absent. I don’t deserve to be in student council. I couldn’t even lead the wave without falling on my face.
In the gym, I set my prop down and begin to practice, but all my wallowing makes it hard to get the moves right for my superstunt. It feels like lead is pulsing through my body and slowing it down. I take a deep breath and push out the negativity. I only have this afternoon and tomorrow to practice, and it has to be perfect. If I’m stuck being a potato, I might as well be the world’s coolest potato. Not that I have much competition, as far as I’m aware.
My feet catch on, and my confidence starts climbing. Before I know it, I’m rocking the stunt. I’ll probably become some sort of internet celebrity after people see this. I’ll inspire bright-eyed new mascots the same way harness-swinging Wolf inspired me. Granted, I don’t quite reach the same level of awesomeness as Wolf Man on Ice, but I’m doing the best I can. Maybe I’ll even win over Duke and Paris. Maybe they’ll be so impressed, they’ll forget about the payback altogether. One can only hope.
* * *
Tuesday at lunch, Hunter tells me how before school, Lucy asked him to the dance by writing DANCE? on a Jenga block and dumping a pile of them in his locker. Apparently, all those two ever do together is play Jenga. Hunter’s pretty stoked to answer her by spelling out “yes” in bacon.
I still haven’t spoken with this Lucy girl, probably because she’s partially homeschooled and only comes to school for choir, math, and history. Who knew middle school could be a part-time gig? I should look into that.
Hunter and I are debating whether or not bacon would leave grease stains on Lucy’s patio (which it totally would, come on) when Ellie shows up, her eyes looking eager to reveal big news.
“Guys, guess what.”
“Hmm…” Hunter rubs his chin. “Chicken butt?”
She gives him her are you serious face. “Chicken butt? Are we in second grade?”
“Ah, second grade.” He stares wistfully into the distance. “That was a good year for me.”
Ellie sweeps her braid over her shoulder as if literally brushing him off. “I think I might ask someone to the dance.”
“Who?” I ask.
“Cole.”
I focus on keeping a neutral expression. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” she says. “I heard he’d been asked already, but yesterday in math he told me that the girl canceled on him because her family decided to go out of town.”
Hunter sucks in through his teeth. “That stinks.”
Ellie sits. “So, you guys think I should do it?”
Honestly, I don’t. Something about the thought of her dancing with Cole makes me wanna puke. But who am I to tell her what to do?
“Why not?” I say. “I mean, if you really want to. If there’s literally no one else you’d rather go with.”
She sighs big and heavy. “Seriously, what do you have against him?”
“Nothing! He’s cool.” I raise my palms and shrug. “There’s just lots of cool people, and maybe you’d have a better time with someone else. I don’t know.”
She studies me like she’s trying to read my mind, and I stare back with a poker face.
“Fun fact.” Hunter pounds his water bottle between us. “I was the runner-up spelling-bee champion in second grade.”
Ellie faces him. “You’re still thinking about second grade over here?”
“Like I said, it was a good year for me. The girls chased me at recess and tried to kiss me.”
I smirk. “Well, who wouldn’t want to kiss a spelling-bee champion?”
“I was the champion in third grade,” Ellie says, and then turns slightly pink. “Just saying.”
I smother a smile with my fist. “What word did you win with?”
“ ‘Crayon.’ ” She takes a sip of juice. “Everyone was spelling it without the y.”
“That’s such an easy word!” says Hunter.
Ellie pulls a sassy face. “Not as easy as the word you missed.”
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�It wasn’t easy.” He scowls.
“What was it?” I ask.
“ ‘Chicken.’ ” His tone drips with resentment.
Ellie and I bust up laughing.
“Whatever,” Hunter says. “Chick-in! It’s a tough word! At least I knew there was a c in there somewhere.”
Then Hunter goes on a rant about spelling bees, and how it’s cruel and unusual punishment to place a kid in front of a crowd, force him to spell things autocorrect could do for him anyway, and watch him fail. I actually side with Hunter on this one. Ellie gets so heated in her defense of spelling bees that she accidentally flings her blueberry Go-Gurt onto my arm, which, on the bright side, is pretty tasty.
There’s never a dull moment with my friends.
After school, I need to practice my superstunt before the big reveal tonight. But I also want to talk with Ellie. I decide to repeat what I did last Friday: I’ll walk home with her and then run back to school to practice. She might get suspicious if I’m always busy after school. Plus, I need to make sure she’s coming tonight. She won’t want to miss this.
I bring it up as we pass the stone house on our street corner. “So, are you going to the game?”
“Nah. No one can go.” She kicks at some snow. “You’re grounded, and Hunter’s gonna be busy doing the bacon thing.” At lunch Hunter begged her to help, but she felt it would be wrong to participate in bacon vandalism, so he’s on his own. “Plus, I don’t have a ride,” she says. “Isn’t it at Burrows?”
“No, didn’t you hear the announcement? They switched it to home. The other school had scheduling conflicts.”
“You pay attention to the school announcements?”
“Yeah.” Ha. No. Coach told me earlier in the hall. “You know,” I say, “if you go tonight, you can sit by Mitch. I told him to come.”
“Really? Why?”
Yes, Ben. Why would you tell Mitch to come? Seriously, I need a collar to shock me every time I speak before thinking.
“Well,” I say, inventing an excuse on the spot, “I think it’s good for him to get out and do stuff. Be social.” Who am I, his dad? In fact, I’m pretty sure my dad used that exact line on me back in California.
Ellie squints at me. “Do you want me to ask Mitch to the dance or something?”
I jerk my head toward her in surprise. “What? Why would I want you to ask Mitch?” I mean, he’s better than Cole, but that still sounds like a terrible idea.
“I don’t know. You’re the one who wanted me to ask out Eric Daniels, the guy who dresses like he’s going to church every day.”
“I didn’t say you should ask him out. I just thought you might like how…classy he is.”
Her eyes become slits. “Why do you want me to sit with Mitch, then?”
I chew on my tongue. “I thought he could use a friend. Someone to sit by.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” It’s not really a lie—I do think he could use a friend. It’s not the main reason I want her there, but still.
Ellie tugs at her yellow scarf. “That’s really nice of you, Ben. Yeah, I guess I can go and look for him.”
“Good,” I say. “Plus, you’ll get to see your Cole.” My words come out more bitter than intended.
She lifts her chin. “I guess I will.”
“So he’s your type, then?” I blurt.
“Well, more so than Eric Daniels.”
“But come on—Cole? How is he your type?”
Ellie huffs a small white cloud. “Why do you keep saying ‘type,’ like people can only like one type of person?”
“I don’t know. People usually have a type. Don’t they?”
“Okay, then. What’s your type?”
I shrug. “Likes Slurpees?”
“For real.”
I’m not sure I even know the answer to this question. “I guess someone I like being around. Someone I can talk to about whatever.”
“You like being around Jayla?”
“Sure.” The ice cream date was pretty fun. Until it exploded in my face, of course.
“And you can talk to her about whatever?”
“I don’t know. I guess.” The truth is, we haven’t really talked much. And I always feel awkward when we do. But things might get better once I get to know her more. I haven’t seen her since I ran out on her, but she accepted my apology over text.
Ellie looks smug, like she just won an argument, although I’m not sure what it was.
I pull up my hood. “So, how are you going to ask Cole?” It’s weird—as much as it annoys me to think about the guy, I keep bringing him up.
“Well,” she says, “I was thinking about getting him a carton of buffalo wings. My mom said she’d take me to get some during lunch. Then I’d put them on his desk in math with a note that says, I’ve never asked anyone to a dance before, so I’m just gonna ‘wing’ it. Is that cheesy?”
I snicker. “Yeah, kinda.” I mean, puns are always cheesy.
She stops walking. “Really?”
Now I feel bad for insulting her idea. “Well, it’s cheesy, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. I’ve heard of guys getting candy, but never wings.” My mouth waters as I imagine spicy buffalo wings next to ranch sauce. “You know, the more I think about it, the cooler it is. I’m actually super jealous.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Of the wings, yeah. You should get me some too.”
She laughs. “That reminds me. I do have something for you.” She digs in her side bag. “I was gonna give you this during lunch, but I didn’t want Hunter to get jealous.” She pulls out a sandwich bag and hands it to me.
It looks like she ripped up a plant and stuffed it in a bag. “You got me…leaves?”
“It’s basil! I picked it off the plant for you to smell. Go ahead, take it out.”
I bring one of the felty leaves to my nose and breathe in the soft, sweet scent. It’s minty with a hint of pepper.
“So? Do you like it?” Her cheeks, rosy from the cold, dimple as she smiles.
I can’t help but laugh. She’s such a weirdo. “I love it. Thanks.”
She lingers at her gate. “You know, it’s really too bad you can’t come to the game tonight.”
“Yeah, I wish I could be there. You’ll have to tell me how it goes.”
She steps through the gate. “I’ll tell you every detail.”
Tonight the Spud has to win over Ellie, Duke, and the entire student body. Everything must go exactly as planned.
16
Shock and Awe
I lean my ear close to the metal gym door, listening to the pregame buzz on the other side. I hear chatter, trumpets, and the squeaks of sneakers against the court. My heart thumps along with the dribbling basketballs as players warm up. The announcer isn’t calling me inside. Not yet. The stands are full, the band is playing; it’ll be any minute now.
Earlier today, Coach Tudy instructed me to wait for the announcer’s cue before going into the gym. He was as excited about my superstunt as I was, and insisted I perform it for the grand entrance. “Proud of you, boy,” he said. “That’s the kind of stuff we need around here.” Our competitors, the Burrows Billy Goats, are favored to win. They’ve only lost one game the whole season. Our team has lost two, including the Jackrabbit disaster. We need all the momentum we can get.
“And now, everybody,” the voice booms over the loudspeaker, “get up on your feet and give a warm welcome to our very own…Steeeeve the Spuuuuud!”
I kick open the doors and jog inside, blowing kisses like a Disney potato princess. The crowd eats it up. They cheer even louder as I hold my prop high above my head, the object I’ve loved for years but neglected for the past month: my skateboard.
I slip the red-rimmed board under my foot and propel myself across the gym.
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I start with my signature move, which I mastered at age ten: the tiger claw. I stomp the board so it snaps into the air. I claw at it like a tiger reaching for its prey and flip it in a 360. With a flick of my wrist, I slip the board back under my feet and keep riding.
The cheers hit me at full volume. Duke’s deep voice rings out above the rest: “Potato on wheeeeels! Yeah!”
His phrase catches on, and a chant starts up. Potato on wheels. Potato on wheels. Potato on wheels.
“I have more where that came from,” I say, even though no one can possibly hear me.
I grapevine—right foot over left, left foot over right—all on top of the moving board. It’s harder than you’d think since I have no view of my feet. At one point I step too far forward and almost lose my balance. I wobble on one leg, but by some freak force of nature I manage to stay upright. Victorious, I ride on, pumping my arms to the beat of the chant.
The loudest chanters by far are three kids near the back whose faces are painted red and black. Two of them are eighth graders I’ve seen around school, and the shortest one is the same little punk I was about to show up in the free-throw shoot-out two games ago. With war paint smeared over his chubby cheeks, he looks just like one of Peter Pan’s Lost Boys.
I sail around the gym, swerving right, swerving left, and throwing in a bunny hop here and there. My legs move on their own without direction from my brain, like this is what they’re meant to do. They’ve missed this freedom.
Time for the grand finale: a ghostride kickflip. I hop to the right of my board, run alongside it, and kick up the underbelly. The board does a side somersault in the air before I jump and slam it to the floor with both feet.
The bleachers explode with cheers. Even the players on the opposite team join in. Their mascot, a gray billy goat with a thin goatee, claps his hooves in approval. I raise my skateboard over my head and take a sweeping bow.
My Life as a Potato Page 10
