Kung Fooey (11 page)

I was slumping in my chair, the hot morning sun pouring through the open window.

Rubin’s hand shot up. “Reading?”

Mr. Purdy stared at Rubin.

“Oh … yeah,” Rubin said. “We like reading.”

Hmmm. What starts with
R
and is nasty? “Rats?” I said.

Mr. Purdy smiled. “We have rats here, Calvin?”

“Uh … I don’t think so.”

“No, we don’t have rats. The nasty
R
I’m talking about, class, is ridicule … because we have a problem.”

That got me sitting up straight.

The room got quiet. Very quiet.

Mr. Purdy folded his arms and studied us. “It seems some people in this school have been giving our newest student a hard time.”

Heads turned toward Benny Obi’s empty seat.

“Yes,” Mr. Purdy said. “He’s not here today, is he? Does anyone have an idea why?”

Silence like the bottom of the sea.

“Ridicule,” Mr. Purdy went on. “Disrespect. Bullying. Know what those are, class?”

A few mumbles and nods. Shuffling of feet. Staring at hands.

“Something happened on the playground yesterday. We don’t know exactly what, but we have an idea who was involved. If anyone cares to talk about it, come see me later. But here’s the thing: I know that
my
students—even those of you who might have been there—don’t ridicule anyone. We don’t disrespect anyone, or tease anyone, or make fun of anyone. We respect and support each other, even if someone is different from us. Isn’t that right?”

Everyone nodded.

Mr. Purdy looked us over, every one of us. He didn’t look mad, just serious. “Thank you,” he said finally. “I’m counting on you. You are much better than what went on yesterday. I know this, because I believe in you and expect you to uphold the standards of Mr.
Purdy’s fourth-grade boot camp wherever you are.”

Mr. Purdy let that sink in.

After a long moment of silence, Ace raised his hand. “Is Benny coming back, Mr. Purdy?”

“I sure hope so, Ace.”

Man, I thought. If I were Benny Obi would I come back? It would be so hard. You’d have to face everyone knowing you’d made a fool of yourself after they’d seen that you didn’t know kung fu and had run away.

Ace nodded. “Me too, Mr. Purdy.”

At recess, I was sitting in the shade with Julio, Willy, and Rubin.

“I still can’t believe he ate bugs,” Willy said.

Julio tossed a pebble and searched the dry grass for another one. “He did it to get attention. That’s what my dad said.”

I looked at Julio. “You told your dad?”

Julio shrugged.

“Did you tell him about Tito, too?”

“Yeah. I felt kind of bad, you know? I mean, sure Benny made the kung fu thing up, but he didn’t deserve to be pushed around by some … some—”

“Bully,” I said.

“I kind of liked Benny,” Willy said. “He always had something crazy to say or do. He wasn’t boring.”

We all nodded.

Then clammed up when three shadows fell over us.

Tito kicked my foot. “Where’s Kung Fu-Fu?
I don’t see him here today. Me and him’s got more business.”

I shaded my eyes and looked up. Bozo and Frankie Diamond stood behind him. Tito raised an eyebrow.

“He didn’t come to school today,” I said.

Tito smirked. “Scared, ah?”

“You didn’t have to do what you did to him,” Julio said.

Ho, Julio!

Tito glared at Julio. “You like I do it to you, too, punk? ‘Cause I can. I make you one sissy-fu, too.”

Julio stood.

Tito took a step toward him.

I sprang up and put my hand on Tito’s chest. I didn’t think. It just happened. “No, Tito.”

Tito looked at my hand. “Whatchoo think you’re doing?”

Yeah, what?

“If you were me,” I said, not moving my
hand, “would you sit here and let someone like you push your friend around?”

Willy got up, too.

Tito’s eyes drilled into mine, his face stone cold. Bozo and Frankie Diamond stepped closer.

I’m dead, I thought. Prob’ly Willy and Julio, too.

Tito poked my chest with his finger. “You got guts, Coco-punk. I respect that.”

I let my hand drop.

Tito gave me a long look and nodded. The three big guys slouched away, walking and talking tough.

I let out a breath.

“Man, Calvin,” Julio said. “Where did
that
come from?”

I held out my hand. “Look at my fingers.”

They were trembling like Clarence’s idling car.

That night Mom brought home a cherry pie with vanilla ice cream and a postcard. The picture on the postcard was of Kailua Bay. The colors were way brighter than you ever saw them in real life.

She handed the postcard to Stella. “After we celebrate your driver’s license victory, send your mom this card and share the news.
I’ve already stamped and addressed it for you.”

Stella took the postcard. She turned it over, studied the front again, then handed it back to Mom. “She doesn’t care, so I don’t need this.”

“Of course she cares!” Mom said.

Stella just looked at her.

“Your mom loves you, Stella. I know that.”

Stella frowned and snapped the card out of Mom’s hand.

Later, when Mom told me to take the trash out to the garage, I found the postcard in the trash bag.

I stuck it in my pocket.

W
hen school started the next day, Benny Obi’s desk still sat vacant. Was he scared to come to school because of Tito? Was he embarrassed? Even Julio kept glancing at the door to see if he’d show up.

Mr. Purdy was writing math problems on the whiteboard.

“Where’s Benny, Mr. Purdy?” Shayla finally asked. “Have you heard from him?”

Mr. Purdy finished the problem he’d begun, then put the marker on the tray and turned to face us. “I was going to give it another day or two before I said anything,” he said with a sigh. “But I don’t think it’s going to change.” He shook his head.

What was he talking about?

“Benny isn’t coming back. He’s transferred to another school.”

What?

A deep hush fell over the classroom.

Mr. Purdy sat on the edge of his desk and looked at us until we started to fidget. “We still don’t know why he left. His parents didn’t say. But if any of you has an idea, I hope you will consider talking to me about it. Kailua Elementary is a great school, and I personally want to do everything I can to keep it that way.”

I still felt squirmy inside. I wanted to tell him what happened. But I didn’t, too. If we told him about Tito, and Tito got in trouble, things would get worse. No, there was a better way. Stand by your friends in the first place, and don’t let guys like Tito get in their face.

Mr. Purdy took a deep breath and let it out through puffed cheeks. He clapped once. “Take out a clean sheet of paper, boot campers. We have work to do.”

When I reached into my desk I got the surprise of my life.

My jaw dropped.

What?

It was a picture. There was a yellow sticky note on it.