My Life as a Cartoonist (18 page)

I'm embarrassed to be reprimanded by Ms. McCoddle, especially in front of half the school.

“I didn't even want to do this!” I say as the crowd begins to disperse. “This was all Umberto's idea.”

Umberto has magically ditched the boxing gloves as well as his own lacrosse stick. I try to visualize the scene from Ms. McCoddle's perspective: me wielding a weapon at the defenseless new kid in a wheelchair who now wears an innocent expression.

“Both of you, principal's office, NOW!” she says.

I suddenly spot a crack in Umberto's calm demeanor. He seems as upset as I am.

“Ms. McCoddle, please—” I begin.

“We won't do it again,” Umberto adds.

She spins around to face the two of us. “I'll give you two a choice: a one week detention with me or a meeting with Principal Demetri and your parents.”

Umberto and I answer in unison. “Detention.”

“My classroom—let's go!”

All I can think of is what I'm going to tell my parents when I finally get home.

You Want Us to What?

Ms. McCoddle is still in super-serious mode as she erases the board in her room.

“Here's the plan: You two are going to collaborate on a project that's due next week.”

I start to complain but think better of it. Umberto's back to wearing his cooperative grin. What a phony.

“Since you two are interested in comics, you can come up with one together—contributing without fighting.”

“I'd love to collaborate, Ms. McCoddle,” Umberto begins. “But it might be hard because Derek keeps taking all my ideas.”

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?” Before the sentence is out of my mouth, I realize this was just a clever ploy to get me to blow my stack in front of our teacher. I compose myself before continuing.

“I think it's a great idea. It actually sounds fun,” I say.

When Ms. McCoddle tries to hide a smile, I realize I've gone too far in the other direction. “Then it's settled. We start tomorrow. I want a note from both your parents saying they're on board.”

Matt and Carly are waiting for me by the school's front entrance. I don't bother looking behind me to see where Umberto's gone.

“Did you get in trouble?” Carly asks.

“Did she make you see Demetri?” Matt adds.

I tell them about detention, but what really makes them groan is the fact that I have to create a comic strip with Umberto as punishment.

“He doesn't have one original idea,” Matt says. “All he does is copy your stuff.”

Carly shakes her head, looking off into space. “I just don't get it. Why is he picking on you? You're such a nice kid.”

I feel my cheeks flush at the unexpected compliment.

Behind Matt, I notice Umberto still inside the school lobby. The automatic doors are locked, and he's trying to open the regular door and wheel himself through. No one else is around, and I'm the only one who can see him.

“Come on,” I tell Matt and Carly. “Let's go.”

Someone will probably come along to help Umberto. It's just not going to be me.

My First Detention

Needless to say, my parents are not happy when they find out I have a week's detention. My mother listens to my side of the story and says she'll call Ms. McCoddle tomorrow.

“It sounds like this new kid's really been pestering you. What do you think set him off?”

I tell her I've been trying to figure that out for weeks.

“We'll get to the bottom of this,” she says. One of Mom's interns knocks at the door and says there's an emergency with a Dalmatian who got hit by a car. I feel bad about the dog but I'm I glad the conversation abruptly ends. I grab a handful of Girl Scout cookies and head to my room.

I've got to hand it to Umberto—the guy's pretty ingenious when it comes to slipping out of trouble. It makes me wonder what he was like at his old school. Did he lure other innocent kids into detention there too?

To take my mind off my punishment, I spend the rest of the afternoon working on my comic strip. I name the bad guy Roberto as a nod to my own school yard villain. I sketch him sitting in a jail cell with nothing but a cot, a toilet, and a giant cellmate covered in tattoos.

Drawing actually makes me feel better and by dinnertime I have a stack of papers full of Roberto in ridiculous situations and one new
Super Frank
comic strip.

As he serves the chicken, Dad says he wants to “throw his two cents in” by telling me to “take the high road” when kids are looking for trouble. His little talk has me wondering why parents have to resort to idioms when they want to have a serious discussion. It makes me want to “bury my head in the sand.”

“So now that the dust has settled…,” my mom begins.

I close my eyes. If she's starting in with the idioms too, this can only mean they're gearing up for A Serious Conversation.

“We pulled together some information to go over with you,” she continues.

“Information on what?” I ask.

My father looks me straight in the eyes. “Bullying.”

Get Me Out of Here!