Bluefish (8 page)

"I mean, I didn't know hardly any of those words."

"I know," said McQueen. He held out his hand. "It's a hard book. Let's see."

"Maybe I should have started with an easier book."

"Why?" McQueen flipped through the first few pages.

"Are you bored with the story?"

"It's not that. I'm just saying it might be too hard."

"Who's the teacher?"

"You."

"Student?"

"Me."

"You've done excellent work.

Top notch.

Now sit back and listen."

McQueen read, his voice like the low hum of a bull-frog on a summer day. The sound and the words eased over Travis, taking him out of the room, out of the walls, into the woods. He closed his eyes and followed the fox through the underbrush until

McQueen stopped.

"That's it for today," he said. "But I have a new assignment for you."

He picked up a pen and wrote on a scrap of paper, glancing at the first few pages of Haunt Fox as he wrote.

"Look at these words." He handed the paper to Travis. Five words in a list.

Travis didn't know any of them.

"Young." McQueen pointed at the first one. "Say it."

They went over each word together. Young, night, summer, hunt, branches.

They did the list forward and then backward, McQueen pointing and Travis repeating until he could do them all without a hitch.

"Nice job," said McQueen.

"But that's not reading. I just memorized them."

"Right. We call that word recognition. Keep them with you all day. Write them on your hand with your finger. Link the look and the sound and the feel together.

Make friends with them. Once you absolutely know them for sure, anytime, anywhere, then go through the first chapter and use your eraser to uncircle them."

"But I circled like five hundred words. It'll take me years to learn them five words at a time."

"Teacher?" McQueen raised his eyebrows.

"You."

"Don't forget it. Learn those five, uncircle them, and keep circling into the next chapter. Friday morning, back here. Same time."

The hallway was still mostly empty, and Travis sat on the floor in front of his locker and opened the book. Long lines of words tromped across the pages like columns of ants. McQueen found the swamp in those words, and he took Travis there with him. Not just into the nighttime snowstorm, but into the fox itself, moving through the winter woods and hearing and smelling that mysterious animal world. The lines of ink on the page were a secret code. For the first time, Travis wanted to crack it. More than anything.

"Travicus! What've you got there?"

Travis flipped the book cover side down as he scrambled to his feet.

"Why are you here so early?"

"Just had some breakfast," said Velveeta. "Gotta get my recommended daily amount of vitamins and minerals. But you're never here early - weird number one. And you're sitting on the floor, reading - weird number two.

It's Bradley's influence, isn't it? He's been sucking you away from the church of the home workless?"

"No." Travis put the book in his locker. "I just got here early."

"Because you love school so much, right? Me, too.

Can't wait for another day of learning. Let's go get smart."

They walked together to Ms. Gordon's room. Velveeta's scarf of the day was golden and brown with some dark greens, faded like they were underwater.

Every day he looked forward to seeing her scarf. So far she hadn't repeated one time.

Velveeta was still in McQueen's office having her individual conference when the lunch bell rang, so Travis got to the table first.

"Hey," said Bradley, sitting across from him. "Mind if I sit here?"

Travis shrugged and took a bite of pizza.

"So." Bradley ripped the Velcro on his lunch box.

"Chad Cormick said Velveeta's your woman. He said you'll beat the crap out of anybody who looks at her."

Travis stared at Bradley. That sounded a lot better than "crazy bluefish," even if it wasn't true.

"So she is, right? Your girlfriend?"

"I told you before. We're just friends."

"Hi, boys." Velveeta's voice popped behind Travis.

"Were you talking about me?"

Travis choked on a bite of pizza as Velveeta set her tray down next to his.

Bradley knocked on the table and said in a deep voice,

"Hey, open up." Then he answered himself in a nasal voice.

"What's the password?"

He switched back to the deep voice - "Password?

Oh, man, I forgot" - and continued to rattle lines about a password back and forth in the two voices.

"Bradley!" yelled Velveeta, waving her hands in front of his face. "Are you okay?

Are you having a seizure?"

"No," said Bradley in his normal voice. "It's from a game, the old Halo. It's funny."

"You're a freak show," said Velveeta. "But entertaining."

"Do you play?" Bradley asked.

"No," said Velveeta. "Is that what you do for fun?"

"I can't right now. I'm cut off ."

"Why?"

"Because it drives my dad crazy. He said if I talked about a game that wasn't football, Monopoly, or charades one more time, he'd yank them all. I forgot, and did, and he did."

"Wow, that must have been very traumatic for you.

Why aren't you sitting with your buddies over there? I'm sure they'd be much more sympathetic to your sad story."

Bradley and Velveeta punched words back and forth across the table so fast, they didn't even land. Like a tennis ball that never hit the court.

"Those guys are no fun since I can't play," said Bradley.

"I went over to Reed's last night, and he and Jake were all about how they'd own me if I was playing, but they're only saying that because I can't."

"Whatever that means," said Velveeta. "If you were at Reed's house, why couldn't you play? Would Reed's parents rat you out?"

"I wouldn't lie to my parents."

"Really? Never? What about you, Travis?" The sound of his name jerked Travis out of the bleachers and into the game. "Do you lie?"

"About what?" he asked.

"Anything," said Velveeta. "Do you lie to your parents?"

"I don't say anything to them."

"Predictable," said Velveeta. "Bradley is Mr. Honesty America. Travis the stealth boy keeps his mouth shut, and Velveeta lies to anyone who will listen. We should start a superhero team."

"Maybe," said Bradley. "But maybe you're lying about lying."

"Maybe I'm not," said Velveeta. "Anyway, you don't have to worry about me and Travis here tempting you with any illegal electronics. We don't even know what you're talking about half the time, right, Travissimo?"

"I don't," said Travis. Even if he wanted those games, he'd never have them, and even if he had them, he'd rather be on Velveeta's team than Bradley's in any game.

"Okay, then tell me what you guys talk about so I can talk about it with my dad and prove I can talk about something besides games, and then he'll let me back online."

"Oh, so that's why you're sitting with the white- trash club?" said Velveeta.

"Trying to learn our language so you can normal up to Daddy?"

"No, I - "

"Sorry we couldn't give you more to work with, Bradley. Try us again tomorrow

- we'll talk about shop-lifting. Your daddy will love that."

She walked away, and Bradley turned to Travis in half a panic.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said. "I like you guys."

"You like Velveeta."

"I do. Can you tell her I didn't mean it like that?"

"Tell her yourself," said Travis.

on WEDNESDAY

I went home after working at the library and the madre wanted to play cribbage, but I hate playing with her when she's that drunk. She started in with, "What am I going to do when you leave me?"

The thing is, what IS she going to do when I leave? I mean, I'm leaving someday, right? I don't have to live in this trailer court forever, do I? And what happens when she gets sick - not hung over, but really sick? Butt face Jimmy only comes over when he needs something, not when she needs something.

Then I look at Bradley, with his nice new clothes and shiny white Nikes and green and gold braces on his teeth. He is so well taken care of - who cares if he's the biggest dork in America? I bet his parents already have him enrolled in some fancy college. I bet they check his homework every night. I bet they tuck him into bed. I bet his mommy sings him lullabies.

I've been reading this book of McQueen's. It's about a girl named Liesel whose mother dumped her with strangers.

She's super- smart, but she can't read. Not even a little. The way she learns how is by circling words in a book.

I was in the middle of that part today and I looked over at Travis, and he was concentrating like crazy on that book with the fox on the cover.

Writing in it with a pencil. He didn't look up one time the whole period.

Plus he was at school early, sitting on the floor with that book and a pencil, and he tried to hide it when I walked up.

Plus he has passed every single time we read in Gordon's class. Every time. I've never heard him read anything.

Plus he was so hostile about doing that social- studies project together, but as soon as that was over, he got normal again.

And biggest plus: that day in front of the library. He asked what it was, even though the sign was right there, and I gave him a "Can't you read?" snotty answer. That's when he acted like I'd thrown a rock at him.

I think Travis is circling words.

Travis kept thinking about what Velveeta said about lying all the time. Did she really lie all the time? If she did, how was he supposed to know what to believe? Maybe he was stupid for believing any of it.

The next day at lunch, she pushed the thick book she'd been reading into the middle of the table. "Do you know what this book is about?" The picture on the cover was a dark curvy line of dominoes, with a finger ready to push the first one over.

"You said it's about death."

"Yeah, but it's about something else, too. There's thisgirl in it, and she can't read. She's super- smart, but she never learned, and then in the book she learns how."

A hot fire lit up under Travis's face.

"It's so great," said Velveeta, "the way she learns. Not with baby books, but with a book about digging graves."

"You want my cookie?" he asked.

If only Bradley would show up. Where was he, anyway?

"You know that fox book you carry around?" she asked. "Are you circling words in there? I just wondered because the girl in here kind of reminds me of you, and that's what she's doing, so I wondered if that's what you're doing. Besides, McQueen is the one who made me start reading this book."

"He told you." Travis narrowed his eyes at McQueen, over at the teachers' table.

"No!" yelped Velveeta. "He didn't say anything. He's a buttinski, not a blabbermouth. I figured it out myself, and I swear, I won't tell anyone. I think it's super- cool, just like Liesel in the book. And she's got this friend named Rudy, and they steal stuff together. Maybe we can go steal some stuff, too.

What do you want to steal?"

Travis was sweating so hard, it ran down his sides. He bit his lip so his teeth wouldn't chatter.

"Travis, really, it's okay," Velveeta said. "If it's none of my business, and if you want me to shut up, just knock on the table three times. If you don't want me to shut up but you still want me to eat your cookie, knock twice. If you want to give me an extra twenty dollars today if I kiss you in front of everyone, knock once. If you - "

Travis held up his hand.

"That's not a knock," said Velveeta.

Travis shook his head.

"I understand the sign language of the Travatoni tribe.

I will stop talking."

"I gotta go." He picked up his tray.

"The bell didn't ring yet," she called after him.

He hid out in the library for the rest of the lunch period, taking deep breaths to keep from freaking out. She knew. There was no way to make her not know, because now she knew. She said she wouldn't tell anyone, but what if that was a lie?

All afternoon, he kept the fox with him. He circled words into the second chapter and went over his list of five words again and again, writing them on his palm with his finger. Tracing them in deep.

Velveeta came by his locker after school.

"Can I see the book?"

"No," said Travis.

"Please?"

Travis put the book in his backpack, pulled on his jacket, and slammed his locker.

"Don't be mad." Velveeta followed him. "I won't tell anyone, I swear. And I really do think it's cool."

"Yeah, but you lie all the time, remember?"

Velveeta stopped. When Travis got to the door, he turned and leaned on it as he pushed his way out. She was still standing where he'd left her, in the middle of the hall, kids streaming around her like she was an island.

Their eyes met, and she turned away. Limping, almost.

Travis pushed out the door. The air was dense and sullen, the sky a gray muddle, like Travis's stomach. He'd hurt her. Not a bloody nose or a concussion, but something just as bad.

He turned down the alley and peeked in the park.

Nobody there. Travis dropped his backpack and took McQueen's scrap of paper out of his pocket. He leaned against the center pole of the merry- go- round.

Summer, branches, young, night, hunt. He traced them onto his palm.

"Hey, Travis."

He shoved the paper in his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Bradley tossed down his book bag and sat on the merry-go- round.

"Nothing."

"I want to ask your advice about Velveeta. She got me all wrong at lunch yesterday. How do I tell her that?"

Again, Travis saw Velveeta standing alone in the hall.

Even her scarf was drooping.

"I don't know. Just tell her."

"Because the thing is, I do like her. I like her a lot.

You know I'm not just sitting by you because my games got yanked, right?

Because I'm not. And I don't just like Velveeta. I like you, too. You're cool, but you're not mean."