Jumped In (7 page)

She kneels down in front of our desks and looks each of us right in the eyes.

Holy crap!

What is she doing? I'm sweating like a pig. My throat squeezes shut. The stinging on my face and pounding in my chest are unbearable. I look down at the ground. In my head I'm screaming,
GET AWAY FROM ME!

She whispers slowly and seriously, “I'm onto you two,
Luisandsam
. And this thing that you guys do? This disappearing act? It's over. Got it?”

She taps our table.

And winks at us.

Then she goes on about Langston Hughes without missing a beat.

In mere seconds, Cassidy has exploded the vortex, and with that one-word name—
Luisandsam
—she collapses the magnetic force that separates the two of us from each other … and from her.

Without thinking, I look over at Luis.

He's already looking at me. Right in the eyes.

Rule number 4?

Gone
.

His face is as red as mine must be. And we're both like,
What the hell now?
We shrug and look away, knowing everything has changed.

Crap.

Luis breaks his blue pencil in his hand. He slides the shards onto my desk.

Crap, crap, crap!

 

LUIS AND SAM,
MEET
LUISANDSAM

I
T'S THE DAY AFTER
.

I can't believe I'm back here after Cassidy's threats.

After I blew this thing for Luis.

He's probably gonna kick my ass, for real this time.

I sit down at my desk. He sits down beside me. I start bracing myself for the worst, but something takes me over.

I turn to Luis.

I look him in the eye.

And I say, “
Hey.
”

And before I can regret it, he says, “
Hey.
”

It's all Cassidy's fault! She's made us into a duo. Like we're a package deal:
Luisandsam.
She can put our names together all she likes, but believe me, we're in no way friends. And we'll never be friends.

But once you know the guy is there, and he knows you know, and everyone else knows you both know … you can't pretend he doesn't exist.

So, despite everything, I say
hey
to Luis. I start saying
wazzup,
or at least nodding in his direction. In the halls. In the lunchroom. We even shoot each other a look when I pass him and his homies at Cholo Corner.

I feel fake.

But once you start saying
hey
to a guy?

You can't stop saying
hey.

 

I CAN TAKE CARE OF MYSELF, YOU CRAPPY TEACHER

I
T'S NOT JUST
C
ASSIDY UP IN OUR BUSINESS
.

It seems like everyone is noticing this thing with Luis and me. Noticing the
hey
s and the
wazzup
s and that sometimes, if we leave at the same time, it looks like we're walking to the next class together.

We're not.

But the whole thing makes people feel like they can talk to me. I mean, I'm walking down the hall one day and one of Luis's friends—this kid Willie—asks, “You seen Luis?”

Do I look like his freakin' keeper?

I swear, I don't know anything about Luis besides the fact that we both go to the same school. And all of a sudden we're pals?

It gets worse.

A week after
Luisandsam
, Mr. McClean asks me to stay after class.

I haven't said one word to the guy the whole year, and he's never even seemed to notice me. Now he wants to chat?

I don't wanna ever talk to him and I wouldn't be now if it wasn't for Luis.

I look back at McClean. He's one of these guys who wears short-sleeved shirts with double-wide ties and sports a big bushy mustache, complete with powdered doughnut crumbs.

He sits behind his desk and motions for me to come to the back of the class.

All superior.

I wanna take off and leave him sitting there stewing, but that would mean a call down to Carter's office and a phone call home. I have enough crap in my life.

So I walk back there to face the music.

McClean smiles and gets all hush-hush, like he has something important to say. He stares down at the ground for a second, then dramatically looks up at me. What a fake. “Sam, I'm concerned about your progress in my class. I don't have any homework grades for you. Do you have a plan to catch up?”

I keep my eyes on my boots.

“Everyone wants a future full of possibilities. You don't want a failing grade your sophomore year to hold you back down the road. Right?”

I'm not gonna answer.

“So it's time to make some choices. Choices about focus in class. Choices about completing assignments. Choices about friends.”

What?

“The people with whom we associate have a huge effect on our level of success, Sam. You're choosing to associate with a kid who has made some extremely unfortunate choices.”

“I'm not—”

“Sam, I know all about Luis's brother, and I know all about him.” He takes a second to scan his grade book. Points his finger on a page of phone numbers. “I should call your parents about your grade. But I'm willing to postpone that conversation. You start turning in your work; you start associating with folks who will increase your chances of success, and I won't have to make that call. Do we have a deal?”

I look right at him.

I wanna tell him he doesn't know shit about me.

I wanna tell him it's none of his business who my friends are—not that Luis is my friend.

I wanna tell him where he can stick it.

But I can't.

I don't know why I can't defend myself.

I just can't.

So I walk out without a word.

Cherished Poets of Room 108,

I know I teach you to be a bunch of rule-breaking rebels who can't be contained within society's neat little boxes. So trust me when I tell you that a few restrictions can actually help the creative process. Here's a type of poem with a fun and easy set of rules. The
diamante
is a cool way to flip the script on your readers. In just a couple lines, you go from talking about one subject to writing about something totally different. Maybe the totally different part makes a statement about the subject with which you started. Sound confusing? Listen up RIGHT NOW! We're going to try some examples on the board. When we're done, write your own diamante below!

Sincerely,

Ms. Cassidy

1st Line: ONE Noun (THEME A)   
Mr. McClean

2nd Line: TWO Adjectives (Describing THEME A)   
Lame, cynical

3rd Line: THREE -
ing
Words (About THEME A)   
Nagging, sweating, provoking

4th Line: TWO Nouns (Related to THEME A)   
Cop, imposter

               TWO Nouns (Related to THEME B)   
Teacher, role-model

5th Line: THREE -
ing
Words (About THEME B)   
Glowing, inspiring, guiding

6th Line: TWO Adjectives (Describing THEME B)   
Awesome, smart

7th Line: ONE Noun (THEME B)   
Ms. Cassidy!

 

THE NEW DEAL

C
ASSIDY DOESN'T WHISPER ANYMORE
.

She doesn't tiptoe around the two quiet loser boys. Now she calls us out repeatedly in front of the class.

Over and over.

Never letting us off the hook.

Luisandsam, are you listening?

Pointing her chalk at us.

Luisandsam, I know you're thinking.

Tapping our table with her long, press-on fingernails.

Luisandsam, where is your homework?

Glaring at us over her plastic glasses.

Be ready, Luisandsam. I'm coming at you with questions on this.

She says it and she means it. She's on our case from the second we walk in the room until we walk out the door.

Cassidy's turned into a rabid pit bull, hell-bent on breaking us, turning us into
students
.

That's her new deal.

And she sticks to it.

Every minute.

Every day.

 

NOT FUNNY

A
WEEK AND A HALF INTO
C
ASSIDY'S NEW DEAL
, she shows no sign of letting up.

She's got the energy.

But we've got the willpower. We've got the Rules.

No matter how much
Luisandsam
crap she throws our way, we hang in there.

It's clear she's frustrated, because she keeps us after class.

She smiles and says, “Have a seat, guys.”

I'm not gonna sit.

But Luis sits.

So I sit.

Then Cassidy throws us a curveball:
She's nice.
She offers us a doughnut—
from Krispy Kreme
.

That particular brand of doughnut is my weakness. But I'm not gonna let her know that. So I don't accept. In fact, I pretend like the doughnut is the most disgusting thing in the world and it makes me wanna puke.

Luis?

He takes the doughnut.

Cassidy smiles.

He's an idiot.

She stands up and leans over the desk, looking down at us. “
Luisandsam
,” she says, “I want to explain why I'm on your case.”

I don't even have to make my eyes roll. They see the bullshit coming and do it on their own.

“You two are riding the fast train to
Loserville.
And if you get there someday, I'll be sad for you. Extremely sad. But I will not feel guilty. I will have no problem looking at myself in the mirror and saying,
Cass, you fought for those boys. You fought as hard as you possibly could.
So,
Luisandsam
, as long as you're in my class, I will not stop fighting for you.”

We don't say a word.

So she writes us a pass to our next class. But she doesn't give it to us. She holds it up, so one of us has to take it from her.

“There's only one thing I hate more than a student giving up on himself. You know what that is,
Luisandsam
?”

I snatch the note.

“It's losing. I hate losing.”

I slam the door on the way out.

Luis says nothing as usual. He just leads the way toward geometry.

I'm seething. “My God, she's a bitch! Right?”

It's the most words I've ever spoken to him, but he doesn't respond.

I don't think he heard me, so I repeat it. “Isn't Cassidy a bitch?”

And I say it loud enough so I
know
he hears me.

No response.

He just pushes the door open and flashes a ridiculous smirk.

I'm seriously pissed and he's smirking?

What's he smirking at?

Me?

He's laughing at
me
?

Just like that, he wipes the grin off his face and walks into math, his stone-serious, scary self.

What a psycho.

I swear, that's the last time I ask him anything.

Say anything.

No more
hey
s or
wazzup
s from me. That's it.

I give up.

I'm never gonna talk to him again.

 

LOSING

I
FIGURED
C
ASSIDY'S
HATE TO LOSE
B
.
S
.
WAS JUST A BUNCH OF B
.
S
.

It's not.

She keeps her word. Each day she comes at us harder than the day before.

Luis and I both stubbornly follow rule number 7. (
Listen. Answer when called upon. Blank clueless stare on the follow-up.
)

And it stops working.

Because she never stops coming back at us.

Questioning.

Confirming.

Lecturing.

Heckling.

Taunting.

It's like we're the only kids in the class. Every stinking question. Every new idea. Every chance she gets, it's
Luisandsam, what do
you
think?
She's relentless. If either of us gives a half-thought-out answer, she badgers us until we make it whole.

Every day the same thing.

She has us figured out and she knows it.

I hate her.

And I'm not about to forget whose fault this is.