Just Another Hero (8 page)

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 11

KOFI GLANCED OUT THE WINDOWS OF
Mrs. Witherspoon's class and wished he were at home, in bed, snuggled under something like a hundred blankets. Maybe with Dana.

Fat, lazy snowflakes fell, covering the already snowy ground. It would be cold and wet on the way home tonight.

Shortly after class began, Eddie called out in his gravelly voice, “May I be excused, please?”

“Please remember to take care of bodily functions before my class, Mr. Mahoney,” Mrs. Witherspoon said, giving him the hall pass. “If I can run to the bathroom in the five minutes they give us between classes, you can too.” The class giggled, but Eddie only narrowed his eyes as he left, pausing only at Dana's desk to give her a long look.

Kofi could feel Dana tense up, in the same way some people reacted to a snake—with great fear and the need to
put distance between themselves and the reptile.

“I wish I could get my classes changed,” Dana whispered to him.

“He's the one who needs to leave—not us,” Kofi fumed.

Mrs. Witherspoon drew their attention back to the lesson. “Well, group,” she said cheerily, “let's continue with the life of our hero Beowulf. Is he a hero because he's big and tough, or because he kills monsters?”

“Maybe both,” Jericho replied thoughtfully.

“So what makes a person a hero?” asked the teacher.

“He saves the world,” Susan suggested.

“What if he just saves a kid from drowning?” Arielle wondered.

“He's gotta be strong,” Kofi added.

“Who says it's gotta be a dude?” asked Dana.

“Women back then just served the wine, and then they served the men,” Cleveland said with a laugh, “like they're s'posed to do!” Dana threw a notebook at him, but he ducked.

“Can't a woman be a hero?” Dana asked again.

“Heroine,” November corrected.

“Changing the name makes her sound weaker,” Dana argued. “I think if a lady saves a baby from a burning house, she ought to be called a hero, not a wussy-sounding heroine.”

“Good point,” Mrs. Witherspoon said, encouraging the students to talk. “But do you have to save somebody to be a hero?”

“Maybe you have to kill somebody, like Beowulf did,” Cleveland said.

“Killers aren't heroes, stupid,” said November.

“Beowulf was,” Roscoe insisted.

“But he killed monsters like Grendel!” Eric added.

“Grendel's mother musta loved him an awful lot,” Roscoe answered. “After Beowulf killed her son, she came back and kicked butt! So maybe monsters have feelings too.”

Then Osrick, who rarely spoke up, raised his hand.

A couple of kids giggled. Mrs. Witherspoon silenced them with a dagger look.

“Yes, Osrick,” she said with an encouraging smile.

“Grendel's mom just wanted revenge,” Osrick said in his soft voice. “The people who listened to this story would have understood that.” Osrick bowed his head then, as if he were embarrassed. “Sometimes people just have to get even for bad stuff,” he added even more softly.

“Great observation!” Mrs. Witherspoon noted.

“Which proves my point that women are strong,” Dana insisted.

“But she was uggg-leee!” Cleveland replied. “Green and slimy.”

“Sounds like your prom date,” Jericho teased.

“Enough, enough,” Mrs. Witherspoon said. “Let's read that line about how big and bad Beowulf was.” She began, without the crown and cape this time:

“Now is
that
a hero or what?” Spoon asked the class triumphantly. “I might want to marry this guy!”

“He couldn't handle you, Spoon!” Roscoe teased. The class laughed.

Jericho raised his hand. “Yeah, but at the end Beowulf died! What good was all that hero stuff if he gets killed anyway?” The look in Jericho's eyes was intense. Kofi figured he must be thinking about his cousin Josh.

Mrs. Witherspoon paused and looked thoughtful. “Even heroes die, Jericho,” she said sadly.

“Maybe a dude's gotta kick it before he can be called a hero,” Cleveland suggested.

“Or maybe it just makes the story better,” said Rosa.

“Lots of stories end when the hero marries the girl and they live happily ever after,” Olivia said, shooting a glance at Jericho.

“Aw, people think that stuff is real, but it's only in fairy tales,” Cleveland scoffed. “That's why there's so many divorces.” He got more than a few approving nods.

“Trust me. ‘Happily ever after' is not what it's cracked up to be,” Arielle said with a frown. “Sometimes the good-looking hero turns out to be the beast.”

“Could the beast be the hero?” Spoon asked.

“Not in my house,” said Arielle quietly.

Mrs. Witherspoon looked at her strangely. “Let's have a little talk one day soon, Arielle, all right?”

“Okay,” Arielle replied, but she didn't look up.

Spoon then asked, “Does the monster get to have feelings and desires and live a nice, long life gobbling people up?”

Susan raised her hand. Everything about her was graceful, Kofi noticed, even her arm movements. “I don't think so,” she said clearly. “Bad guys need to be punished.”

The teacher nodded with approval. “Let's take a look at the section where the dragon takes a bite out of crime, a.k.a. Beowulf.” She read:

The class, stunned into silence, said nothing for a second. Then another fire alarm shattered the mood and power of that moment. Everyone jumped, including the teacher.

“I've had about enough of these interruptions!” Mrs. Witherspoon cried out in frustration as she gathered her grade book, her coat, and her purse. “How am I supposed to teach? We may as well hold class out in the snow! Let's go, pups. Out the door, down the hall, and outside. Don't forget your coats.”

“You think it's another false alarm?” Dana asked Kofi as they hurried out, holding hands.

“Probably.”

“What does Crazy Jack have this bell?” she wondered.

“Math, I bet,” Kofi replied, remembering what Jack had told him earlier.

Roscoe trotted up to them. “Hey, didn't Jack have a French test today?” he asked.

“Aw, man! Every time that dude has a test he can't pass, he pulls the alarm. What's up with that?” Cleveland complained.

“Do you think the teachers know?” asked November.

“Probably not. And ain't nobody gonna narc on Crazy Jack. He's just silly.” Cleveland buttoned up his coat.

“What about Eddie? Could it be him?” Dana suggested.

“The fire drills started way before Eddie got back, but you never know. He might be messin' with everybody's minds.”

“Well, at least we're on the first floor, and I can roll out by myself this time,” Eric said, relief in his voice.

“You can carry
me
if you want,” Jericho teased him.

“I'll pass on that one, dude. But Olivia might want the job,” Eric said with a laugh.

“Hey, don't be messin' with Olivia the Superwoman,” she said as they got to the end of the hall. “You make me pull out my red cape and I'll dust the floor with both of you!” They all laughed as they headed outside.

Thick snow fell on the students as they milled outside the building, stomping their feet and cursing the weather.

“It wouldn't be so bad if it was spring,” said Jericho, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“This
sucks
!” Cleveland grumbled. “It's, like, the coldest day of the year.”

Kofi wondered if it was the cold that was making his head suddenly start pounding.
Doesn't matter—pain's the same!
he reasoned. He thrust his hands deep into his jeans pockets—partly for warmth, but mostly to locate the bottle of pills he'd hidden there. Just touching the container made him relax.

“Kofi. Dana. November. Jericho. Eric. Luis. Olivia. Susan. Osrick. You okay, sweetie?” she asked. Osrick nodded. Mrs. Witherspoon took attendance on a handheld Blackberry device, which was awkward through her gloved hands. “Rosa. Arielle. Brandon. Roscoe. Cleveland. Eddie.” She paused and looked around, concern and suspicion on her face. “Where's Eddie?” she asked.

“Right behind you, Spoon,” Eddie said into her ear.

The teacher gave Eddie an uneasy look, but made no further comment.

Once again the classes waited for twenty minutes for the all-clear bell and finally went back into their classrooms, frosty and bitter.

Kofi's head still throbbed. As they hurried down the hall, he popped a pill into his mouth, chewing it dry and making sure Dana didn't see him do it.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 11

“HAVE YOU SEEN IT?”

“Girl, that was too funny!”

“I almost peed my pants!”

“No, but I bet the little weirdo peed on the floor!”

“What you talking about?”

“Weird Osrick's butt cheeks!”

“For real?”

“How do you know it's him?”

“I'd know that hoodie anywhere.”

“Shut up!”

“Check out You Tube, man.”

“He's got his pants down and you can see
everything
!”

“Everything?”

“Well, almost. Skinny little legs. Skinny little thighs. Skinny little butt!” The laughter was loud and raucous.

“I gotta see this!”

“Who filmed it?”

“I don't know. But somebody is holding him down. You can only see their hands.”

“Poor little geek.”

“Ah, he probably liked it—he got to be the center of attention for a change.”

“Show it again! Show it again!”

Three girls huddled around an iPhone and laughed so loudly that the bus driver glanced back to see what they were up to. They passed the phone around to almost everyone on the bus, and everyone who watched the video seemed to think it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen.

Arielle, who was riding the bus because the Mercedes was still in the shop, sat two seats behind them. She listened to the conversation helplessly. She knew that by the end of the day the video would have gone viral and there would be nothing she could do about it.

And she knew she should say something to defend the kid—she felt so sorry for him—but what could she say that would stop the video?

She hadn't noticed Olivia, however, sitting near the front of the bus. When someone passed the phone to her, she looked at it briefly, then immediately tossed it back and stood up, outraged.

“No standing on the bus,” the driver said mechanically.

Olivia ignored him. “You think that video is funny?” she bellowed. Her eyes were narrowed slits and her nostrils flared. She looked like a bull about to charge.

Nobody answered.

“How would you like it if it was
you
being embarrassed
like that? You think it feels good to be laughed at?”

“Aw, get over it, Olivia,” a burly sophomore replied carelessly. “Nobody got hurt, and it really
is
funny. You can't even see his face.”

“Why don't you come up here then and let me toss you up and down the aisle of this bus?” Olivia replied, her voice a challenge. “And maybe we'll film it, just for fun,” she added.

“Ooh!” came the whispered response from the group.

The boy, however, seemed to decide that ignoring Olivia was the wisest choice. He just shrugged and turned back to his friends.

Without an audience any longer, Olivia, still clearly very angry, glanced down the aisle and made eye contact with Arielle, then looked beyond her to the very last row. She picked up her book bag and stomped angrily toward the back.

And I once tried to get up in this girl's face?
Arielle thought.
What was I thinking?

Olivia stormed past Arielle, ignoring her and stopping instead at the seat of…oh, no! Osrick! Arielle had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn't even noticed him sitting there.

He heard everything they said,
she thought in dismay.

Olivia plopped down next to Osrick and exhaled loudly.

“It's pretty funky on this bus, huh, Osrick?” she began.

“Yeah, I guess.” His voice was so low, Arielle could barely hear him.

“You ever need me to tighten somebody up for you, let me know, you hear?”

“I need to fight my own war,” Osrick replied quietly.

“Nobody goes into battle alone,” Olivia told him.

Wise advice,
Arielle thought.

“One day I'll get even,” Osrick murmured. “They'll be sorry.”

Arielle felt like she had to speak up too. She turned around and said softly, “You got friends, Osrick. Remember that.”

“Who? You?” Osrick sounded doubtful.

“Yeah, me. For real,” Arielle said with more confidence. She glanced at Olivia, who, amazingly, nodded.

“You don't usually ride the bus,” Osrick pointed out.

“My mom's car is, uh, in the shop,” she said.

“I just want to graduate,” said Osrick, “and have this all be over.”

“When we come back for our ten-year reunion, you'll be a rich and famous scientist and getting the red carpet treatment. No joke!” Arielle told him.

“I'll never come back to this place!” Osrick exclaimed fiercely. “They can kiss my skinny butt that they think is so funny!”

As the bus continued to roll, Olivia looked up. “Wasn't that your stop, Osrick?” she asked. “I know you get off before I do.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Why did you ride past it?” Arielle asked him.

“Sometimes I wait until everybody is off and the bus is empty. The driver circles around and takes me back to my stop.” He sighed. “I couldn't walk past them today. I just couldn't.” He gave a halfhearted grin. “I'm a jellyfish.”

“I think you're pretty brave,” Arielle told him. “I don't know what I would have done if they had posted me like that.”

“They e-mailed the video to me, you know. Twenty-seven different people sent it,” Osrick said. “Twenty-seven.” He seemed overwhelmed at the enormity.

“Is there any way to get it removed from You Tube?” Olivia asked.

“It's already all over MySpace and Facebook and a dozen other sites. It's there forever until they get tired of it and move on to something else,” Osrick told her.

The bus rumbled on.