Fiddlesticks (3 page)

Shawn always asked his American friends about the garlic smell. It was the kind thing to do.

“Why'd you run away in the boys' room?” Eric asked.

Shawn's mouth was full. He didn't answer.

When he finished chewing, Ronny kitch had shown up.

“AAUGH!” Ronny covered his nose. “What's that horrible smell?”

Abby grinned. “It's garlic. And if it bugs you, then go away.”

“YUCK! Garlic isn't cool,” he roared at Shawn. “Haven't you learned anything about America?”

Eric and Jason looked at each other. Their mouths dropped open.

Stacy shook her head.

Dunkum frowned.

Abby did, too.

Shawn put his head down. He was afraid. Ronny might hit him. Maybe smash his teeth in or something worse.

He stared at his chopsticks. He thought about the suggestion box note. What if Ronny knew he'd tattled? What would Ronny do?

Shawn heard Ronny laughing.

“Only sissies play violin,” the mean boy said. “And only weirdos eat with chopsticks!”

Jason leaped out of his seat. “Leave Shawn alone!”

“It's not cool to make fun,” Eric insisted.

Abby spoke up. “Eric's right. It's not cool.” She was frowning.

Shawn was shaking.

“Have you ever heard of the Golden Rule?” Abby asked.

“Sounds dumb,” Ronny said. He clumped around the table and stood behind Shawn.

Shawn could feel the heat.

“You can read about the Golden Rule in the Bible,” Dunkum said.

Eric said, “Look it up. Matthew 7, verse 12.”

Ronny laughed. “No thanks!”

Shawn wished Ronny would go away. His chopsticks were starting to rattle.

Ronny leaned over Shawn. “So . . . how was your chat with Miss Hershey?” he mocked.

Now Jason spoke up. “Get lost, Ronny Kitch!”

“Yeah,” Abby said. “Or I'm telling!”

Ronny copied her in a pinched-up voice. “Or I'm telling!”

“I mean it!” Abby said. She got up and headed for the lunchroom teacher.

Shawn wished Abby would hurry back. He wanted her right here. With him.

Ronny stuck out his tongue at Shawn. “How do you like having your sister babysit you?”

Then he left.

Shawn put his chopsticks down.

“Ronny's rotten,” Jason said.

Eric agreed. “No kidding.”

Shawn looked up to see Abby coming back to their table.
Good,
he thought.

“Thank goodness, Ronny's gone,” Abby said. She looked at Shawn. “And I think I know who started the nickname.”

Shawn said nothing.

“It was Ronny,” Abby said. “I'm right, aren't I?”

Shawn felt hot.

He pressed his lips tight.

SIX

The lunchroom was almost empty.

The Cul-de-sac Kids were still talking.

Abby said, “We can help you, Shawn.”

Eric and Jason nodded.

“Abby's right,” Jason said.

Dunkum and Stacy looked worried.

“Please tell us,” Stacy said.

Finally, Shawn said, “I not want trouble.”

“Who does?” Jason said. “But Ronny Kitch is already trouble.”

“Big trouble,” Eric said. “He pushed
me around during recess. I had the ball. I was dribbling, close to making a goal.”

Shawn listened. Anything about soccer, and he was all ears.

“I was ready for a kick to the goal,” Eric continued. “But the ball got jerked away. By guess who?”

Jason was wide-eyed. “Ronnie is NOT a team player!”

Eric nodded. “That's the truth.”

“And he was on
your
team,” Jason said.

“That's the weirdest thing,” Eric said.

Shawn listened.

“What happened next?” Abby asked.

Eric's eyes rolled. “Ronny booted the ball.
He
made the goal.”

“It should've been yours,” Jason said.

“That's how Ronny is,” Eric said. “Rotten.”

Shawn's jaw twitched. “That not how things be,” he said. “Must change!”

Abby's eyes were on him now. “We
need to have a long talk,” she said. “How about after school?”

“I play violin then,” he said.

“How about when you get home?” Abby asked.

Jason smiled. “Good idea. Talk to Abby. She's a good listener.”

“Good friend, too,” said Stacy. “Chingu.” She smiled at Shawn.

But Shawn was silent.

The Cul-de-sac Kids went out for recess.

Abby and Stacy scurried off to the swings.

Dunkum and Eric went to shoot hoops.

“Wanna play soccer?” Jason asked Shawn.

“Thank you, but no,” he answered.

“Aw, come on,” Jason said. He looked at the soccer field. “Ronny's not playing.”

Shawn checked things out. Jason was
right. Ronny was way on the other side of the playground.

It was safe.

“Come on,” Jason insisted. “I'll teach you.”

Shawn didn't need to be taught. But Jason didn't know that.

Jason begged him to play. “Come on, you'll love it,” he said. “I know you will.”

Shawn really wanted to play. This would be his first chance to play on the field. The long, beautiful soccer field.

He glanced at the far end of the playground. Ronny was still there.

At last, Shawn agreed. “OK, I play.”

Jason started by showing how to dribble. A little at a time.

Shawn dribbled, too. But he kept watch for Ronny.

Jason showed how to rocket the ball to the goal.

Shawn tried. Three times he made it.

Jason shouted, “Goal!” each time.

Shawn was having a great time.

He forgot about Ronny.

“Wow, you're good,” Jason said. “Did you play soccer in Korea?”

Shawn grinned. He didn't want Jason to know about his secret practice. “Not play in Korea.”

Jason seemed surprised. “Let's try some fancy moves.”

“I try,” Shawn said.

Jason grinned and showed off his fancy footwork.

Shawn was getting the feel of it. He was doing really well.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. An enormous shadow. The shadow followed the ball as it rolled downfield.

Jason yelled at the big shadow. “Hey! We had the ball first!”

But Shawn didn't say anything. He kept dribbling. There was no other choice. It was dribble or die.

The shadow was roaring now.

Too close!

SEVEN

Shawn raced toward the goal area. He still had the ball.

“Fiddlesticks don't play soccer!” the shadow yelled.

Shawn tried to shut out the horrible nickname.

Fiddlesticks.

The name burned like red peppers.

Shawn couldn't think about the ball. He couldn't think about his feet. And the goal—which way was the goal?

“Fiddlesticks . . . fiddlesticks!” the voice shouted.

Shawn knew that voice. It was the put-down voice. That voice kept him awake at night. Sometimes, he heard it in his worst dreams.

Shawn turned around slowly.

Ronny rushed at him like a giant. “Go back where you came from,” he sneered.

But he kept coming.

Closer.

Shawn was scared stiff. He sped up.

“Don't you understand English, fiddlesticks boy?” Ronny said. “Go back to Korea! I don't want you here!”

Jason caught up. “That's a horrible thing to say.”

Ronny stopped running. He turned and looked Jason in the eye. “Don't stick up for fiddlesticks!” Ronny roared.

“Stop it!” yelled Jason. “Shawn's not fiddlesticks! He's a
person
!”

Shawn stopped running. He stood very still. He saw the angry glow in Ronny's eyes and was afraid for Jason.

Ronny put up his fists.

Shawn gulped. “Not fight!” he shouted. “Please, not fight!”

Ronny glared at Shawn. “Keep out of this! You got me in trouble with Miss Hershey. You'll be sorry for that!”

Then Ronny spotted the soccer ball. He shoved Jason aside. He charged down the field toward Shawn.

Zoom!

With a mighty kick, the ball flew across the field.

Ronny roared like a lion. He dribbled a few feet downfield. Then he booted the ball toward the goal.

But the kick was off. Way off. It landed out of the line.

Jason started laughing.

Shawn didn't. He was too scared.

Just then, the recess bell rang.

Jason pulled on Shawn's shirt sleeve. “Let's get out of here.”

Shawn's face was burning. “You not
fight. That good thing.”

“This
time Ronny was lucky,” Jason muttered. “I wanted to smash his face.”

The boys hurried to the classroom door. They huffed and puffed.

Shawn looked back over his shoulder.

Jason looked back, too.

“Ronny not coming,” Shawn said.

“That was close,” Jason said. Then he wiped his face on his sleeve. “Hey, you're really good. You should come practice soccer after school. After violin.”