EllRay Jakes Is Not a Chicken (10 page)

And at least I'll be fighting back!

I am sick of looking over my shoulder and washing my hands all the time.

I have gone all day long without telling anyone what is going to happen, because I am
not
a tattletale, no matter what Jared thinks.

Also, it wouldn't do any good, because this fight is between Jared and me—and Stanley, probably, but there's nothing I can do about that.

Jared needs to get even with me because of Heather, crazy as that sounds, and I guess he thinks whaling on me will help.

And if that's what it takes to end our one-sided feud, okay.

“Hey, Jakes. Hey,
sweetie
,” Stanley yells, popping out from behind a far-off tree like some goofy, floppy-haired jack-in-the-box. He looks either nervous or excited, I can't tell which, and he keeps looking over his shoulder. “Come over here,” he says.

I walk over to him as slowly as I can without going backward, because even though I want to get this fight over with, I am not exactly looking forward to it.

Who would be?

“Hey, Stanley,” I say, nearing the tree. I am hoping that maybe Jared has decided to call the whole thing off, and Stanley is supposed to tell me.

And then—
SPROING!
Jared jumps down out of the tree like a big old stinkbug landing on an ant, if that's what stinkbugs do.

And we go rolling across the grass.
POW, POW!
Jared punches me in the side, right where my poor skinny ribs are sticking out.

And I grab hold of his shirt and try to get in a punch or two of my own.

My fist connects first with Jared's nose by accident, and then it sinks into his stomach, and Jared grunts. He is madder than ever now, and a little bit surprised that I am fighting back, judging by what I can see of the look on his face.

I would hit him again, only I never get the chance because we are rolling around on the ground some more, and all our arms are busy.

And all of a sudden, my mouth is full of Eustace B. Pennypacker's memorial grass—and some of his dirt, too, as Jared grinds my face into the lawn. “
Fuh
,” I say, trying to spit it out.

“No spitting,” Stanley cries, as if he is the referee, and this is supposed to be some really fair fight.

Yeah, right!

I would explain to them that I'm
not
spitting, only I never get the chance.

“I'll teach you not to spit on me,” Jared says— and he wrestles me onto my back and gets ready to spit in my face.

As if spitting on a person will teach that person not to spit!

I would point out how messed-up this is, only I do not get the chance.

There is a roaring sound in my ears, and I shut my eyes and
especially my mouth
, and I get ready for the worst, only the worst never happens.

Instead, the roaring sound grows louder and louder, and I suddenly realize that it is kids, kids, and more kids, and they are swarming around us: Kevin McKinley, and Corey Robinson, who is supposed to be at swim practice, and Fiona McNulty, and Emma McGraw, and Heather Patton, who accidentally started the whole thing and doesn't even know it, and Annie Pat Masterson.

There are other kids here too, from different classes, and I don't even know their names.

How did they find out?

Stanley.
I just know it. That's why he was looking over his shoulder!

Maybe he's not so bad after all.

“Get off him, Jared,” Kevin shouts, grabbing Jared by the neck of his sweaty red T-shirt. “You're huge compared to EllRay. It's just not right,” he yells.

But Jared wriggles away.

“Big meanie,” Emma says, aiming a kick or two toward Jared's shins, which I wish she wouldn't do, because how does that make
me
look?

But Emma can't help herself. She is what my dad would call “a hothead.” He says it like it's a bad thing.

“Oh, poor Jared,” Heather cries out to the excited crowd of kids. “Look, his nose is bleeding!”

And those are the magic words, I guess, especially coming from
her
, because Jared suddenly lets me go.

I scramble to my feet before he changes his mind.

“You bully,” Heather says, whirling to face me. “Why don't you pick on someone your own size, EllRay Jakes?”

Which is when everyone starts to laugh.

Including Jared Matthews, luckily!

And
poof,
just like that our fight is over.

“Everyone all set?” my dad asks us very early the next morning, after buckling Alfie into her car seat, because—we are on our way to Disneyland!

And I earned it the hard way. I am so sore I can barely walk—but Disneyland will cure me.

“
I'm
all set,” Alfie announces. She is dressed up in her favorite outfit: ruffled shirt, pink skirt, lacy white socks, and pink sneakers. “I'm going to meet Minnie Mouse,” she tells us, looking excited, but also a little scared. “And she's famous.”

“
Maybe
you'll meet Minnie,” my mom tells her, I guess because she doesn't want Alfie to be disappointed if Minnie Mouse is on vacation in Cabo or something.

“I'll meet her, all wight,” Alfie says grimly.

And for everyone's sake, I hope Minnie is on the job today.

“Well, let's keep our fingers crossed,” Dad says, sounding a lot more excited than I thought he would. He's even wearing a shirt and sweater instead of a tie. “But leave some room, EllRay,” he adds. “Because we're picking someone else up.”

“Who?” Alfie asks.

“Yeah, who?” I ask.

My dad looks at me over his shoulder and smiles. “It's a surprise,” he says, speaking mainly to me.

And it really, really is.

“Hey, Jared,” I say a few minutes later, trying to make my voice sound normal as Jared Matthews clambers into the backseat of our car. This leaves me sitting in the middle, exactly where I hate to sit.

This is like a nightmare come true
.

Jared and I accidentally solve everything all by ourselves, but it's for nothing? We have that stupid fight, but then they throw us together for a whole entire day?

I guess the grown-ups don't know it, but that's like expecting Jared and me to walk across a bridge that we just built out of white paste and Popsicle sticks.

We are
DOOMED!

“Jared, we called your parents on Thursday night to suggest that you join us,” Dad says as Jared buckles himself in. “And they agreed that it was a good way for you and EllRay to get to know each other a little better. Ms. Sanchez thought so, too. But we decided to keep it a secret—from both of you.”

Okay. They called Jared's parents on Thursday night—
before
our big fight on Friday in Eustace B. Pennypacker Memorial Park.

Of course, the grown-ups haven't heard about the fight yet, I remind myself. For now, at least, it's still stealth. All they know is that he might have tripped me once. But the side of Jared's nose where I accidentally socked him yesterday afternoon is black and blue, I am secretly glad to see.

“Hey,” he says to Alfie and me in greeting, not knowing where to look. He touches his sore nose. “I told my folks I fell off my skateboard,” he whispers, before I can even ask.

In the front seat, Mom opens her purse, pulls out her little lipstick mirror, and peeks back at Jared and me—probably to see if we are silently strangling each other yet.

So far so good, Mom. Mostly because I'm still in shock.

“Who's that?” Aflie says, taking her wet thumb out of her mouth and waving it toward Jared with some suspicion.