Revenge of the Bully (12 page)

“What is it?” Jessica asked.

“Nothing. I thought I saw something.” It felt like I was being watched, but that was silly. If I told Jessica she would think I was nuts.

We kept walking. Our conversation was light and fun. It had been a while since the two of us had really spoken. I'd almost forgotten how great she was and how smart. Why was this awesome girl walking with me?

I felt a twinge of nerves when the tone of her voice sounded a bit more serious. She said, “I'm glad your friend, uh, Fernando, explained everything about the summer. I feel a lot better now.”

“Me too. It was real hard being away from you.”
Thank God for Fernan—

I jumped. Over Jessica's shoulder, fifty feet in front of us, I saw what looked like a strange, creepy figure step out from behind some hedges. It had wild crazy hair, almost like a clown mask. A chill ran down my spine and my right knee buckled. Just as I started to raise my hand to point, the figure slipped back behind the bush.

“You're right,” Jessica continued. “The summer was hard. I think the hardest part was that you couldn't use the phone. Don't you agree?”

“With what?”

“Are you listening to me, Rodney?”

“Oh, absolutely. I agree completely.” Maybe it wasn't the most graceful recovery, but I was focused on getting as far away as possible from the creepy clown person. “Do you want to switch to the other side of the road?” I suggested.

“No, this side is sunnier.”

“Exactly,” I said. “I forgot to apply my afternoon sunblock. I burn very easily.” I was only half-lying. I couldn't stop sweating and the stinging in my eyes was getting worse.

“You're silly, come on.”

I had taken my father's dating advice and made sure that Jessica walked on the inside—away from traffic and closest to maniacs. As we reached the hedge I could actually hear my heart pounding. I held my breath, waiting for a murderous hand to grab us. But nothing happened. We walked right by and I let out a high-pitched wheeze.

“Are you okay?” Jessica asked.

“Yeah, just my allergies again.” I fake coughed, almost dropping both backpacks.

“Are you sure that's it? You seem a bit high strung.”

“Me? I'm not high struuUUUUNNNNGGGG!” The masked head suddenly rose from behind a parked car on the other side of the street. Or was it just the sun reflecting off the hood? The whole world was hazy from the sweat in my eyes. I could feel my pulse slamming me in the temple. The head slowly went back down and disappeared behind the car. I gripped my chest.

“Rodney, you're scaring me,” Jessica said.

You don't know what scary is!
I almost screamed out loud. It felt like I was about to faint. Who was hiding behind that mask? Was it someone trying to ruin my date? If so, they were doing an excellent job. I couldn't stop my mind from racing. Was the person trying to do something worse than ruin a date? That thought was even more unnerving. Either way, I realized I'd better get my act together or this would be the final act of Jessica and Rodney. I forced a laugh. “Ha, I was just joking around. I'm like the king of relaxation. Nothing gets to this guy.”

“I didn't realize you were joking. You're really good at acting scared and nervous.”

“Don't forget cowardly,” I added.

“Yeah, that too. You could win an Oscar.”

“Ah, well, acting's one of my hobbies. I even did a scene once with the famous Broadway actor Victor Johnson.”

Jessica ignored me and suggested we take the shortcut through the park. I met this with mixed emotions. If she was talking shortcuts, then she probably was tired of my jittering nerves and just wanted to get home. On the other hand, the straps from her backpack were beginning to cut off the circulation in my arms.

“The park sounds like a great ideeeeeEEEEEAAAAAAA!” In the corner of my eye I saw the creepy clown mask pop up over a stockade fence that lined the sidewalk. It was just a few feet away! Part of me wanted to bolt but another, bolder part took over. Without thinking, I lifted Jessica's backpack and heaved it as hard as I could at the head—which ducked just in time. The backpack landed with a thud on the other side of the fence.

Jessica spun around. “What did you just do?”

I was breathing too hard to respond.

“Rodney, did you just throw my backpack over the fence?”

I stared down at my empty hands and back at Jessica. The look on her face told me she had finally decided I was crazy. And was I? Was I seeing things? “Huh?” I asked.

“What's the matter with you? You threw my bag over the fence. You're completely white. You're shaking. You're not answering me!”

“So you're not having a nice time?” My mouth was running off on its own. Jessica tilted her head and frowned. I better say something fast. Knowing I couldn't tell her the truth, I did my best to channel my inner Fernando. “Jessica,” I said, “I've been waiting to spend time with you for so long, and now you're standing here and looking so pretty. I'm a little nervous . . .”

“A little nervous? You're soaking wet! Plus you just threw my bag over the fence!”

“Okay, very nervous. You're not just any girl, you know.” Her glare softened slightly. “I'll get the bag,” I added.

I had to do it, but as I approached the high fence all I could think of was the maniac waiting for me on the other side. My knees went shaky. There were no garbage cans around to stand on. I'd have to jump to reach the top of the wooden pickets. I had failed to impress Jessica with my cool, relaxed personality. At least I could redeem myself by showing her my superior physical abilities.

“Stand back,” I said as I rubbed my sweaty palms against my pants, jumped, and managed to grip the scratchy top. I pulled hard to hoist myself up. I felt an instant burning strain in my arms and shoulders and only rose about an inch. My brain flashed back to Mr. Cramps, my demented athletics instructor from summer camp. I could almost hear him yelling at me, “Rathbone, those spindly arms of yours make me sick! You're a disgrace! You should be doing push-ups and pull-ups and sit-ups and chin-ups each and every morning!” As I struggled and groaned and the wood dug deeper into my hands, I wished I'd listened to him. I could feel a splinter biting into my palm as I attempted in vain to pull myself up. I just hung there as Jessica watched me gasp, flop, and struggle like a dying fish on a hook.

“Why don't you use the gate?” she asked.

Gate?
I was almost blind by now from the sweat in my eyes. I looked over about ten feet and there it was. I wanted to smack my forehead but instead I dropped from the fence and said in my most dignified voice, “
Anyone
can use the gate, but if you insist . . .”

Pushing the gate open was one of the scariest things I've done. As it turned out, the creep was gone, the bag was sitting on the grass, and I looked like a complete moron. I retrieved it without incident and Jessica and I walked into the park. It was a somber, quiet walk. I had really blown it. We were getting close to her house and I figured this would be the final moments of my final date with her.

I was pleasantly surprised when she pointed to a bench and said, “You look a little tired after your, er, climb. Why don't we sit?”

“Sure,” I said, secretly thrilled that I had more time. I was also happy that the bench was out of the sun near some shady woods. We both relaxed and I could feel myself cooling off. There was even a breeze that helped dry my sweaty hair. Everything was great, except I could tell Jessica was trying to put some words together. “What is it?” I asked.

She smiled. “I've always thought you were nice, Rodney, but you did act a little weird today. You said you were nervous. Do I really make you that nervous?”

I didn't know how to answer. She hadn't seen the evil clown head and talking about it would make me seem weirder than I already appeared. Maybe I could tell her about something else. “I'm sorry about my weirdo stunts,” I began. “You don't make me that nervous. It's just that I have so many, uh, other high-pressure things going on in my life. I guess sometimes they get to me.”

“What things? You can talk to me, Rodney.”

I paused for a moment. The stinging had finally left my eyes and for the first time that afternoon I wasn't embarrassed to face her. She sure looked great sitting there, and there was a lot more to her than beautiful blue eyes and long blond hair. Most girls would have left me by now, but she was still here, genuinely concerned about me. Could I have found someone who'd actually listen to me? “I have a ton of strange problems,” I managed.

She cringed back a little. “I heard you had a slimy contagious disease.”

“I don't have a slimy contagious disease! That was just Rishi running his mouth.”

“Well, then tell me.”

I didn't want to overwhelm her with everything, so I figured I'd just tell her one problem. “You know that my mom is the new food critic for the
Cleveland Plain Dealer
, right?”

“Yeah, that's awesome!”

“Yeah, awesome,” I replied sarcastically. “Anyway, you know that new restaurant in town, Mama's . . . ?”

I couldn't believe it. I found myself talking about the whole review situation with the Boss and about how tough and scary those guys were. I told her how we had to win every football game or they would come after me. I told her about the big dinner they were planning for the guys from Chicago and how I agreed to work opening night—even though I knew my parents wouldn't want me to. I must have gone on for twenty minutes. Even more amazing, she actually listened. She was the first person to ever take my concerns seriously.

When I finally finished she said, “You need to tell your parents! Actually, you should tell the police! This Boss guy sounds dangerous.”

“Jessica, adults don't really listen to me. They certainly won't believe me, and the Boss made it clear that I'd better not tell anyone—or else.”

“But what are you going to do if your mom gives Mama's a bad review?”

I didn't really have an answer. I picked up an acorn and flung it at a tree. “I've always wanted to see Mexico.”

“Seriously, Rodney, I don't know how you live with that hanging over you.”

“Well . . .” I was about to answer her when a branch snapped in back of us followed by some crunching sounds in the woods. This time we both jumped. We spun around and I thought I saw someone running off.

“Probably just a dog,” Jessica said.

“Probably,” I lied. My heart began to race. Had someone been listening to me spill my guts? Who could be listening? Was it the same crazy head I had seen all afternoon? Did the head belong to Cheese, or Willy, or maybe Toby? I fought hard to knock the horrible thoughts out of my mind. If the Boss found out I had been blabbing about him . . .

No one spooked us the rest of the way home. We paused at the end of Jessica's driveway. I felt a little awkward, unsure of what to say. I noticed her mom had come to the door and stood looking down at us. Trying to be polite, I smiled and waved. Jessica, on the other hand, frowned, as if to say, “Go away.” Her mom just smiled and didn't budge.

“Well, this was fun, Rodney. Maybe we can, um, hang out again soon?”

I looked into her beautiful eyes and said, “That would be awful. No, I mean awesome, no, yes, I would love you, I mean not you, I would love to.” I smacked my forehead and took a deep breath. “I can't think of anything I'd rather do.”

She laughed quietly and took her backpack from me. My biceps, neck, and back all gave huge sighs of relief. “I'll see you tomorrow morning, Rodney.” She turned and walked up to her front door. Her mom held it open for her and I watched as the best girl in the world disappeared into the house.

On the way home I pondered my long, crazy day. It was great that things had turned out good with Jessica but the mystery of the creepy head left me feeling jumpy and frightened. My mom broke my trance when she met me at the door.

“Rodney, I have great news!”

“What?” I asked. My mom's “great” news was never great, but even I wasn't prepared for what came next.

“It's Mrs. Lutzkraut. She's out!”

The world closed in around me. “How do you know?” I finally managed.

“Because she stopped by this afternoon. She just got out today and came straight here to see you. I told her you were walking Jessica home. Isn't that nice? Rodney?”

I couldn't reply. I nodded dumbly and ran up to my room. I jumped on the bed and buried my face in the pillow. Too many thoughts were crowding my mind. Had the mystery surrounding the evil head been solved? Had that been Mrs. Lutzkraut behind the clown mask trying to ruin my date? Was she the noise in the woods behind the bench? If she had heard what I told Jessica about the Boss, how far would she go to use it against me?

As I pieced it all together, I was struck by an alarming thought: Either half of Garrettsville was after me or I was losing my mind. Or both. Lucky for me, I knew a room had just become available at Shady Pastures!

Chapter 13

THE STORM BEFORE THE STORM

Despite my mom's surprise Lutzkraut announcement, the days following my walk with Jessica turned out to be some of the best ever. Jessica and I spent a lot of time together and she was real easy to talk to—particularly with no masked lunatics making faces at me. Trevor and Josie seemed equally happy. Josh and Wendy were together all the time and even Kayla scowled less when Rishi was about. Fernando would be proud of us!

When Saturday rolled around we actually won another football game, which added to the excellent week I was enjoying. Trevor was great on defense while Josh delivered bone-jarring hit after hit. Of course, the pipsqueak hiding behind him with the ball got most of the credit—thanks to Rishi's constant tweets—but I didn't mind. As long as we were winning and the Boss was happy, I could deal with the extra attention.

Yes, I had allowed myself to enjoy the week by keeping the darker thoughts out, but that could only last so long . . . especially with me. I knew that any day, at any moment, Mrs. Lutzkraut might pop back into my life. I also knew that something else I had been dreading was now only days away. Saturday night was the big grand opening of Mama's, and soon after that my mom would go to review it, and soon after that a horrible review of Mama's would appear in the newspaper, and soon after that the Boss would come after me . . .

I shuddered as I walked onto the football field for Monday practice. What
would
the Boss do to me? The air on the field felt still and heavy. The calm before the storm.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one feeling the pressure. Coach Laimbardi paced back and forth looking very agitated. He called us together.

“Gentlemen, do you know what's happening this Saturday?” I doubted he was referring to Mama's opening. “This Saturday is the biggest sporting event of your lives. Bigger than the Super Bowl, the Rose Bowl, the World Series, the NBA Finals, the Stanley Cup, the World Cup, the Kentucky Derby . . .”

My mind began to drift. I stared at a cloud high above the school building. The cloud began to look a little like the Boss smoking a cigar so I turned my attention back to Coach Laimbardi.

“. . . Bigger than the Indianapolis 500, Wimbledon, the Masters, the Westminster Dog Show . . .”

But I couldn't get my mind off the Boss! He still hadn't paid us for putting up those flyers and now I was going to be working for him cleaning tables. The truth is that I was too afraid of the Boss to ask for the money he owed us . . .

“. . . Bigger than the Tour de France, the Summer Olympics, the Winter Olympics, the Iron Man, the French Open, the World Table Tennis Championships—”

“Uh, Coach?” Josh interrupted.

“Yes?”

“Are you saying it's a big game Saturday?”

“Of course it's a big game! It's bigger than all of them together! It's . . . it's . . . Windham!”

Just hearing the word “Windham” sent shivers down my spine. I hadn't seen the twin brutes Bart and Bruno since that first practice when I sent them flying. I knew that on Saturday I wouldn't be so lucky.

“That's right,” Coach Laimbardi continued. “We have to beat the Windham Bombers! We have to, have to, have to win that game!” By now he was turning red. Coach Manuel brought him a cup of water but he knocked it away and kept going. “I have to win it once. Just one time. Bring your A game. Bring your AAA game! Pleeeeaaase win the game for me! The whole town will be here. With our recent success, we're only twenty-point underdogs. Victory is within reach. Can't you taste it? I have to beat Bill Belicheat once in my life . . .”

Coach Manuel turned to us. “You heard the coach. Big game Saturday. Now start practice!”

I wandered out to the huddle and knelt down. As Hector called out plays for us to run, I tried to piece together everything happening in my life. The Windham game was during the day on Saturday
before
Mama's opening. That meant if we lost, all the meals served that night would have to be free thanks to Rishi's stupid ad. The Boss would go broke and I'd go missing. If I made it to Sunday morning it would be a miracle! I took a deep breath. There was, however, a chance we would win Saturday—even with Bart and Bruno gunning for me. After all, we were on a roll. All I had to do was hide behind Josh during the day and bus tables for the boys from Chicago at night.
I can handle that
, I told myself. Maybe everything would be okay after all.

I stood up, let out a sigh of relief, and gazed into the stands. The second I saw her bright orange hair I knew that everything was not all right. Not by a long shot. Mrs. Lutzkraut sat in the middle of the yellow benches wearing a gold dress and holding a black G-Men flag. She saw me looking at her and gave a little wave.

As if seeing her wasn't bad enough, Hector, AJ, JJ, Phil, and Joe all waved back. “What are you doing?” I yelled. “Why are you waving at Mrs. Lutzkraut?”

Hector smiled. “She's our new tutor, Rodney. She's helping us with reading and math and stuff. She's real nice.”

“No she isn't. She—”

AJ interrupted. “Rodney, she really likes football. She asks us all sorts of stuff about it and about our games.”

“Don't tell her anything. She's evil. I can't believe you guys. Is she tutoring the whole offense?”

“No,” Hector said.

At least that was a relief.

“She's tutoring the defense, too.”

I began to panic. “You guys can't let her tutor you! It's a trick of some kind.”

They all laughed and looked at each other knowingly. “She said you'd say that,” Hector explained.

“She's got you fooled. Trust me. She'll ruin everything!”

“She's not going to ruin anything,” JJ tried to assure me. “She can only help us. For instance, she helps me memorize our playbook. Look, she's even waving our flag.”

I was desperate. “Josh! Tell them they're wrong. Tell them about camp and how Mrs. Lutzkraut tried to ruin it.”

“Camp,” Josh repeated, staring off into space.

“Yes, camp. Tell them!”

“Well, at camp . . .”

“Yes???”

Josh grinned. “At camp we had fire!”

It was useless. My teammates wouldn't listen to me. We practiced another play and I tried not to glance at Mrs. Lutzkraut, but something made me want to take one more look. Pretending I was stretching, I turned my body slightly toward the stands . . . but she was gone. I looked in every direction, from the school to the track to the woods and back again. Mrs. Lutzkraut was nowhere in sight. In less than a minute she had completely vanished—along with any hope that my great week could possibly continue.

“Why so glum, Rodney?” My mom stuck her head into the TV room where I was trying
not
to think about Mrs. Lutzkraut.

“Because everyone's too dumb to see the truth,” I answered.

“I see. Well, maybe dinner tonight will cheer you up.”

“What are you making?” my dad asked, turning down the volume on the Food Network. “Pot roast?” The prospect of a good meal was already working on him.

“No, we're going out on a review. With the Windbagg—”

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” my dad and I whined in unison. “Not the Windbaggers!” I pleaded. Mr. Windbagger was one of the most annoying men in all of Ohio.

“Now, now. I have to review a restaurant, and besides, Fred and Ethel are very nice. Donald, you know Fred's been trying to speak with you about that job opportunity. I think it's very important that you—”

“I am
not
going into business with Fred Windbagger,” my dad said flatly.

“Donald, Fred's done very well for himself. This is not the job market to hold out for the ideal position . . .”

“I'd rather go hungry!” my dad lied.

“Donald, just listen to him. That's all I'm asking. Ethel thinks it would be a wonderful idea.”

“Is Penny going?” I asked, noticing her walk by in her pajamas.

“No, we hired a babysitter—”

“But then why can't I stay—”

“Because, Rodney, Mr. Windbagger is a huge fan of yours. He's been to all your football games and specifically asked if you were coming. I think it's the least you can do to show up and thank him. We're leaving in twenty minutes, so go get dressed.”

I groaned as I pulled myself off the couch. My dad shut off the TV and held his head for a minute. “Well,” he announced, “at least we're in this together.”

Mr. Windbagger frowned as he read the menu. We had met him and Mrs. Windbagger at the restaurant five minutes earlier and he had already complained that there was no bread on the table and the parking spaces were too small for his car. His frown deepened. “What kind of food is this anyway?”

My mom replied, “It's Asian Fusion. This restaurant is primarily focused on Japanese and Thai cuisine.”

“Don't they eat steak in Taiwan? I don't see a T-bone on the menu.”

“Actually,” my mother explained, “the food is from Thailand, not Taiwan.”

“Heck, I don't care if it's from Times Square, they should serve steak. Gloria, you want to review a good restaurant, you go to the Ponderosa. Now that's a good place. There's one over in Warren.
They
got a good T-bone.”

“I'll keep it in mind,” my mom said.

“Now let's see,” he continued, studying the menu, “Ethel, what's that fancy dish I get down there at the Happy Wok?”

“Fried rice?”

“Yeah, that's it. Where's the fried rice?”

“I don't see any,” my mom answered apologetically. “Maybe you'd like the Pad Thai? It's like Thai spaghetti.”

“I guess. If I'm still hungry I can always grab a burger on the way home. So how's the job hunt going, Donald?”

My dad adjusted his knife and spoon on the tablecloth. He seemed to be having difficulty coming up with an answer. Eventually he managed, “Swell. I'm working part-time for now.”

My mom cut in. “You know, Fred, it's been tough for Donald. He had gotten a wonderful position at Vanderdick Enterprises, but when the mall deal fell through they had to downsize their operation.”

Mr. Windbagger nodded his head. “Tough one, Donald. I read about that. Those darn tree-huggers ruin everything.”

I felt my face redden. Evidently Fred Windbagger didn't know that in camp I had pretty much made sure they didn't cut down the forest to build houses and a mall. My dad spoke up. “Personally, I'm glad the deal was blocked. Saving the woods was the right choice.” He winked at me and I felt better.

Not everyone shared his sentiment. “Baloney!” Mr. Windbagger exploded. “Donald, I think you've been eating too much of this seaweed stuff on the menu. Makes you soft. Remember, I'm looking for an assistant. I need a real go-getter. Ideas like saving some squirrels won't get you too far in the business world.”

“I've always done fine,” my dad responded, “and I haven't had to sacrifice my ideals.”

“Ideals?” Mr. Windbagger shouted. “Would you rather have ideals or a Mercedes?” He laughed fairly loud and elbowed a man sitting behind him at another table. He repeated, “Ideals or a Mercedes? Mercedes, right?” The man made a nervous nod. Mr. Windbagger turned back to my dad. “See?
He
gets it. When I sell insurance I always speak the language people understand. Rodney, do you know what language I speak?”

“English?”

“I speak money. That's the international language. Right?” He laughed again.

“Perhaps we could order,” my mom suggested, looking around for the waiter.

“Sounds good to me,” Mr. Windbagger said. “Rodney, you like this stuff?”

“Not as much as a good T-bone and a baked potato.”

Mr. Windbagger banged his hand on the table. “Donald, you may have some nutty ideas, but you're raising one heck of a boy here! You've been playing some great football, son. Been to all your games and seen you in all those ads for that restaurant. Ethel, what's the name of that restaurant?”