Fangboy (10 page)

They placed the tooth in a small jar, and Penny put it in the secret drawer of her tiny keepsake shelf.

* * *

The next morning, Nathan lifted his pillow and there were not one, not two, but
three
coins! Three whole coins!

He thought about what he might buy. Lemonade? A suckling pig? Maybe he’d save it. Kids at school who were inclined to be mean to him might make less fun of a boy with three coins to show off.

But then he spent them all on comic books.

* * *

On the first day of school, he woke up with a stomachache, one that felt like a giant invisible hand was kneading his guts like pizza dough. For the briefest of instants he considered raising a fuss about it and declaring himself too ill to go to school, but he knew it was only his nerves and that Penny and Mary would make him go to school anyway.

Penny made him an extra-special breakfast of pancakes with strawberries on top. He ate slowly, the syrup congealing around his tongue.

“It will be fine,” she assured him.

They’d had an appointment with Nathan’s teacher, Mrs. Calmon, two days ago, just to be sure she was made aware of the situation. Mary did not come to this meeting, partly because she couldn’t take the time off work, and partly because she felt it was unnecessary. “Why would we
warn
people about the boy?” she’d asked, when she thought Nathan couldn’t hear.

“It’s the responsible thing to do.”

“It’s like saying there’s something wrong with him.”

“It’s saying that there’s something
different
about him. There is! It’s not a bad thing, but it’s not a
normal
thing, and what does it hurt to give his teacher advance notice?”

“Do whatever you want. But I won’t be there.”

Mrs. Calmon was a short, plump, ruddy-faced woman with brown hair tied into a tight bun.

“Are you sure he doesn’t belong in a school for special needs children?” she’d asked.

“Nathan has no special needs,” said Penny. “I just want to be sure he is treated with the same respect as every other child in the classroom.”

“Much of that depends on Nathan himself, doesn’t it? Respect is not distributed equally amongst the students. Every single year I will have one student—never more than one, but always one—who picks from his nose and eats the contents. That pupil does not receive the same amount of respect as the one who takes first prize at the science fair.”

“Understood,” said Penny. “Again, we’re not asking for special treatment. I merely felt it was appropriate to warn you. We love the little rascal, but his appearance can be jarring.”

Mrs. Calmon nodded. “Fair enough. You’re a good aunt.”

That was the story: Penny and Mary were Nathan’s aunts. His parents had died, he’d been “moved around” a bit, and finally came to live with his aunts. Nathan didn’t completely understand how everything had been arranged, but he did know that some papers weren’t as authentic as they might be.

While they were discussing this story, he’d almost asked why they didn’t just adopt him, but something told him that it wasn’t a question that should be asked, that perhaps he didn’t want to know the answer.

* * *

“Each desk has a piece of paper with a name on it,” said Mrs. Calmon, as the children entered the classroom. “Find your name, and that will be your desk.”

Nathan walked up and down the rows, searching for his name. There it was. Nathan Pepper. Back row, left corner. He sat down and ran his fingers along the top of his wooden desk, which was shiny and new.

The other students found their seats as well. About twenty of them, if he’d counted correctly, and since there were five rows of four, he was certain that he had. A freckle-faced little girl stuck her tongue out at him before sitting down in the desk in front of him, and a thin, sickly-looking boy gave him a shy smile as he sat down to his right.

“Good morning, class. My name is Mrs. Calmon.” She wrote it on the chalkboard. “We have a lot of learning ahead of us this year, so I hope you’re all ready to pay attention. I will now have each of you come to the front of the class so you can tell the others your name, what you want to be when you grow up, and what you did on your summer vacation.”

Public speaking? Already? What if she made him go first? What would he say?

“We’ll start with you, Peter, and then work our way up and down the rows.”

So, he was to go last. Such cruelty! The agony would be unbearable! Why couldn’t she just let him get it over with?

Peter walked to the front of the classroom. “My name is Peter, I want to be a fireman, and over my summer vacation I set some things on fire.”

“Very good, Peter. Helen?”

“My name is Helen, I want to be a maid, and over my summer vacation I chased away a stray dog.”

“Very good, Helen. Gordon?”

“My name is Gordon, I want to be an astronaut, and over my summer vacation I took a rocket to the moon.”

“Now, Gordon, are you telling the truth?”

“Yes, teacher.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, teacher. I was on the moon for three days.”

“Gordon, you will now be the first person of the year to spend five minutes in the Corner of Ridicule. This is for students who deserve to be silently laughed at by their peers. Go sit on that bright red stool until I say to stop, and feel their eyes upon your back, judging you for your shameful foolishness.”

Gordon hung his head and went to sit in the Corner of Ridicule.

The other students went up, one by one, as Nathan tried to keep his panic under control. “My name is Nathan” would be easy. That part he could handle. But what did he want to be when he grew up? A cowboy? A doctor? A zookeeper? The other kids were taking all of the good choices.

Maybe a banker. Yes, everybody liked a good banker.

Oh, his stomach was killing him.

What if Mrs. Calmon sent him to the Corner of Ridicule just for his teeth?

What if he threw up in front of all the kids, and
then
she sent him to the Corner of Ridicule?

He’d never imagined that school could be so difficult!

The other kids were moving too quickly. He’d never have time to think of something!

The sickly boy next to him went up to the front. “My name is Jamison, I want to be a magician when I grow up, and over the summer I stayed in the hospital.”

“Very good, Jamison. Tammy?”

They were on
his row
! Would he get sent to the Corner of Ridicule if he ran shrieking from the room? He could feel his stomach bouncing around in there, trying to dislodge his breakfast. He couldn’t do this! He couldn’t!

Before he knew it, they were at the girl with freckles.

“My name is Beverly, I want to be a queen when I grow up, and over the summer I beat up my older brothers almost every single day.”

“Now, Beverly, is that true?”

“It is. I’ll beat up one of the boys in here if you need me to prove it. I’ll do it right now.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Very good, Beverly. Nathan?”

Beverly stuck out her tongue at Nathan as she returned to her desk. Nathan didn’t like that at all. Maybe he could use that to delay his public humiliation. He raised his hand. “Teacher!”

“Yes, Nathan?”

“She stuck her tongue out at me.”

“Beverly, did you stick your tongue out at Nathan?”

Beverly sat down at her desk. “I sure did.”

“Nathan, do you think that being a tattletale is a path toward a fulfilling life?”

What was she talking about? Why wasn’t she sending Beverly to the Corner of Ridicule? What was going on here?

“I asked you a question.”

Was it a trick question? Was he supposed to say that, yes, being a tattletale
was
a path toward a fulfilling life, at which point she would say “You’re absolutely right!” and give him a gold star?

“No, teacher.”

“That’s right. Nathan Pepper needs to worry about what Nathan Pepper is doing, and not expend valuable energy trying to get his classmates in trouble. Answer me this question, class: does anybody like a tattletale?”

“No,” said the children in unison.

“If you behave like a tattletale too often, why, you might grow a real tail! Can you imagine going through life with a tail? Nathan, take over Gordon’s shift in the Corner of Ridicule.”

Nathan got up and sadly walked across the classroom. A girl whispered “Nathan the Tattletale!” and the children around her giggled.

He sat on the stool, feeling more ashamed and embarrassed than he had in his entire life.

And then he threw up.

TEN

Nathan decided that he hated school. Hated, hated, hated it. It was the worst thing ever to be invented. Only stupid people should have to go to it.

He never did have to say what he wanted to be when he grew up or what he had done over the summer, but that didn’t make him feel any better. Nathan the Tattletale! What an awful name! If he’d known that nicknames would be bestowed so quickly, he would have taken action to be known as Nathan the Brave or Nathan the Quick-Witted or Nathan the Rat-Killer. Nathan the Tattletale? Even Fangboy was better!

Mrs. Calmon dismissed them for morning recess, and the other children happily scampered around the playground, playing on slides and teeter-totters and swings. Nathan stood against the brick wall of the school, sulking.

“Hello,” said Jamison, leaning against the wall next to him. “I’m glad you threw up.”

“I’m not.”

“I throw up all the time. I was worried all morning that it would happen in front of everybody, which it did, but at least I wasn’t the first.”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think of school so far?” Jamison asked.

“I hate it.”

“Me, too.”

“They can keep me here, but I’m not going to learn anything,” said Nathan.

“Me either. Not a thing.”

“Whatever they teach me, I’ll run straight home and forget it!”

“Me, too! Me, too!”

“Why did you spend the summer in the hospital?”

“Because I’m going to die.”

“Are you?”

Jamison nodded. “I wish I weren’t. They don’t know when but it won’t be long.”

“I’ve never known anybody who was dying.”

“Now you do. Are those your real teeth?”

“These?” Nathan tapped his front tooth. “No, these are joke teeth. I never take them out.”

“Where’d you get them?”

“There’s a store. I’ll take you there someday.”

Nathan the Liar…

“I’m only kidding,” said Nathan. “They’re my real teeth.”

“Seriously?”

“I was born with them. One came out, see?”

“Do you like them?”

“I hate them. They’re awful.”

“I bet they make it easier to eat things. When my mother cooks meat it’s so tough that you can barely bite through it, but I bet you could finish the meal in half the time.”

“I suppose so.”

They continued leaning against the school wall for a few moments.

“Do you ever use swear words?” asked Jamison.

“No. Do you?”

“No. But I will someday.”

“Me, too.”

They leaned against the wall some more.

“Look! It’s Nathan the Tattletale!” shouted Gordon, jumping off the swings and pointing at them.

“Shut up!” Jamison shouted back. “Go back to the moon!”

Gordon ran over to them. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“I don’t care. Nathan’s my friend. If you talk to him, you’re talking to me. Do you want to fight?”

“No. I’m sorry. My father told me that on my first day I should punch somebody to show everybody that I’m not one to be messed with, but that doesn’t sound like fun at all. Can I lean against the wall with you?”

“Of course.”

The three of them leaned against the wall for the remainder of recess. When they went back inside, none of them learned anything, especially the spelling lesson. They ate lunch together, learned nothing afterward, and at afternoon recess decided to swing from the jungle gym. Jamison fell off a few times, but didn’t seem to mind.

“Get off those bars! It’s my turn!”

Nathan, who was dangling upside-down, looked over to see Beverly, her arms folded over her chest.

“If you want to take a turn on the bars, you have to count,” said Jamison. “When you count to forty-five, we’ll get off and it’ll be your turn.”

“You’ll get off now or I’ll fight all of you!”

“Hey, everyone!” shouted a boy. “Beverly is going to beat up Nathan the Tattletale!”