My Miserable Life (11 page)

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Authors: F. L. Block

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Sincerely,

Ben Hunter

 

When I turned in my letter, I saw there were only two others there for Dr. Knapp. One was from Ms. Washington because she wrote to everyone.

On the way home, I peeked inside my mom's envelope. There were only three letters. One was from Joe Knapp, and one from Mercy Keating. Mercy said she wanted to be a writer when she grew up and maybe someday her books could be in a library. Joe had drawn a pretty good picture of my mom smiling and holding up a book. There was a kid in a chair next to her with really red cheeks that matched his Darters baseball cap. Probably me.

All the other letters must have been in Rocko's father's envelope.

 

FEBRUARY

I will not chase girls around the schoolyard.

I will not chase girls around the schoolyard.

I will not chase girls around the schoolyard.

I will not chase girls around the schoolyard.

I will not chase girls around the schoolyard.

I will not chase girls around the schoolyard.

I will not chase girls around the schoolyard.

I will not chase girls around the schoolyard.

I will not chase girls around the schoolyard.

I will not chase girls around the schoolyard.

I will not chase girls around the schoolyard.

I will not chase girls around the schoolyard.

Dear Ben,

This is not exactly a paragraph about why not to play unsupervised chasing games at recess. Please redo it. Thank you.

Ms. Washington

 

CHAPTER 12

THE WAR OF THE KISSES

There was a WAR going on at my school. The war was between the fifth-grade girls and the fifth-grade boys, and it started with Rocko Hoggen and Serena Perl.

On Valentine's Day—which is the absolute worst holiday ever invented, because it forces you to buy stupid stuff and makes you feel inadequate if nobody buys stupid stuff for you—Rocko and Leif were playing handball at recess and I was running around the track by myself when I saw Serena Perl skip over to them. It's weird, but I can see what she's doing no matter where she is; it's like I have a sixth sense about her. The Serena sense.

I saw her skip over and kiss Rocko on the cheek.

Yes, actually kiss him.

Although I was a ways away, it felt like Rocko had slammed the handball into my stomach. I almost doubled over.

Rocko stared at Serena. Then he dropped the ball and ran off yelling.

Serena just stood there. She was wearing a T-shirt with a puppy and red hearts on it. A lot like that valentine she had made for me in kinder-garten. Her hair was in perfect braids, as usual. They bounced as she skipped away.

The next day when I was running laps around the playground, I noticed Serena heading for Rocko again. This time he noticed, too, and ran away, yelling. She followed him. Pretty soon, five other girls—Julie Chen, Ella Bean, Aurora Richards, Kennedee Jones, and Regina Mendez—joined her, chasing Rocko while Leif tried to ward them off.

“Hey, Ben,” Rocko yelled as he passed me, “you've got to help protect me from these girls.”

“Yeah, Ben,” said Leif, “help us.”

I realized this was my chance.

My chance to join Leif in an activity, even if it involved Rocko, and, most of all, to chase down Serena Perl, though I had no idea what I would do if I caught her.

But I joined in. I caught up with Serena almost right away. All the other girls stopped behind her.

“Hey,” I said, blocking her from Rocko's path.

“Hi, Ben.”

“What are you doing?”

“Chasing Rocko. I'm going to kiss him.”

“I don't think he wants you to,” I said. “That's why he's running away. And yelling.” Serena smelled like cherry candy and lip gloss. I thought of how Monkeylad chases Angelina down to lick her lip gloss off.

Serena shrugged. She suddenly looked sad. Not just her eyes, which always looked a little sad, but her whole face.

Just then the bell rang and recess was over.

*   *   *

Why wasn't Serena Perl chasing me? Why didn't she want to kiss me? My misery led me not only to give up on Serena Perl but to give up on myself. I became Rocko Hoggen's henchman.

Every day at recess for almost a week, the same thing happened.

Rocko and Leif would play handball, Serena Perl and her five friends would come over, and Serena would try to kiss Rocko. He and Leif would run away, and Rocko would call to me, “Hey, Ben, we could use a little help here, man,” and I would run after Serena Perl. I would get in between her and Rocko Hoggen, and she and I would say hello to each other very politely and then the bell would ring.

Rocko thanked me and held up his fist to bump mine. “You're the man,” he said. I had to admit, it made me feel pretty good when he said that.

But on Friday, Mr. Garcia, the PE coach, noticed what was going on. He blew his whistle just as I was taking off after Serena Perl.

“Hunter, what are you doing?”

I skidded to a stop, and Serena and her friends ran off.

It was hard to see him—the sun was blasting off the blacktop into my eyes. “Nothing, Mr. Garcia.”

I couldn't see him, but I knew he was frowning. “It looked to me like you were chasing the girls. You know there are no unsupervised chasing games allowed at recess.”

“Okay.”

“I expect more from you, Ben Hunter,” Mr. Garcia said. “You have potential as an athlete, and you're wasting it in these silly games. You're in fifth grade now. It's a whole different ball game.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, Mr. Garcia?”

“Okay, you won't chase girls.”

I nodded.

“And speak up. I can hardly hear you.” He pointed to my Darters baseball jersey. “Do you think that guys who play for the Darters chased girls when they were in school? Or do you think they practiced to be great players from the time they were small boys?”

I thought they probably chased girls, but I couldn't really say that. “Okay, sorry?”

“Don't speak in questions. Say it like you mean it. I'll have to speak to your teacher about this.”

No! I didn't want him to tell Ms. Washington. She would think I was becoming a troublemaker.

*   *   *

“Ben, what happened?” she asked when I got back to class.

I shrugged.

“Were you chasing Serena at recess?”

I nodded and slumped into my Darters jersey. It was too hard to explain. What could I say? That I was trying to impress Leif Zuniga? That I was defending my enemy from being kissed by Serena Perl? That I did it to be closer to her?

Ms. Washington leaned closer. “You like Serena, right, Ben?”

I looked up into her eyes. For the first time, I realized her face reminded me of the pop star Nananna except with glasses. I didn't say anything.

“I get it. She's a nice girl. Just please don't chase her. You can go up to her and say hello if you want to talk to her. I need you to write a paragraph about it, please.”

She handed me a piece of paper and touched my shoulder before she walked away.

At recess the next day, Joe Knapp was doing laps around the playground. He wasn't very fast, and he was breathing hard. I slowed down so he could catch up. His legs looked super skinny in his shorts, and he had a Timmy the Train bandage on his knee, poor kid.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

“Wanna play handball?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said.

“I saw what happened with Rocko Hoggen and Serena.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“He's the one who should've gotten in trouble.”

While Joe Knapp and I played handball, we had a man-to-man talk.

“Do you like Serena?” Joe asked me as he tried to hit the ball down with both fists and his butt sticking out.

I caught the ball and held it in my hand, pointed to Joe and then to the ball. Then I slammed it against the wall with one fist. “Like this,” I said.

He nodded and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. “Because I like Aurora Richards.”

Aurora Richards is the oldest and tallest kid in our class, and Joe is the youngest and shortest. Aurora is one of those December birthday kids who stayed back a year. Aurora Richards looks like a little Hellwig Plum, that model who hosts
America's Next OMG.
There is no way in hellwig that she would like Joe Knapp.

“Oh, cool,” I said.

“I mean, I really like her,” Joe said, catching the ball in both hands and staring at it as if it were Aurora Richards. “Even her name is perfect. It means
dawn
, and it also means lights in the sky in high-latitude regions caused by a collision of atoms and particles in the thermosphere.”

Huh? That Joe Knapp is quite a character. I took the ball gently from his hands. “Yeah. I've liked Serena Perl since kindergarten.”

“Wow,” Joe Knapp said. “Maybe she likes you, too. But she just doesn't want to admit it, so she chases Rocko.”

For one second I felt this warmth expanding inside my chest. Joe and I stood there looking at each other. I could tell by his little puppy eyes behind the smeared lenses of his glasses that he understood.

“Hit it like this,” I said, slamming the ball with my fist.

Joe Knapp clasped his hands together and swung lightly, hitting the ball directly back at the wall with only a slight lift of his butt.

“Good job, man,” I said. “But you need to tell your mom to get you a different bandage. Timmy the Train will get you laughed out of class.”

Joe Knapp nodded and smiled. He still had baby teeth, more than I did. You gotta love that little kid.

We high-fived.

“Hey, I could use your help on something, too,” I said.

“Sure,” said Joe.

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