Stuffed (6 page)

“The whole thing is unbelievable. First you try to threaten me. Then you try to bribe me. And now you do the two together, trying to bribe me and threatening me if I don't take the bribe.”

“I don't like to think of it in those terms,” he said.

“That's because you're a lawyer,” I said.

“So are you turning down the offer?” Mr. Evans asked.

I looked at my parents for advice.

“Sorry, Ian,” my mother said, “but this is up to you. You started things and you have to decide how to finish them.”

“Well?” Mr. Evans asked.

“Well, I'm not going to answer…not yet…I have to consider what to do.”

“Take all the time you want,” Mr. Evans said. “The deal is on the table until close of business in two days.”

“Ian!”

I heard my name being called out but didn't stop or turn around. If I ignored whoever it was, maybe they'd go away.

I'd spent the whole morning with people coming up to me and thanking me for the free Frankie's lunch that was coming because of me. Or they were telling me they were “with me” in supporting the boycott and they were upset Frankie's was trying to bribe us with a
burger. The student council had done a pretty good job of letting everybody in the whole school know about the free lunch offer.

I kept walking, eyes forward, down the hall, putting kids and classrooms between me and whoever had been calling.

“Ian…wait up!”

I recognized the voice—it was Julia. I stopped and spun around. She was running down the hall, a big smile on her face. She had a nice smile. It made me smile back.

“Are you going deaf?” she asked.

“Selective hearing.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“I was trying to ignore you.”

“You were trying to ignore me?” she asked, sounding hurt.

“Not
you
. I didn't know it was you calling, and when I did, I stopped. It's everybody else in the school I'm trying to ignore…if they'd let me.”

“Lots of people been bugging you, huh?”

“Everybody in the whole school,” I said.

“You're always exaggerating,” Julia said.

“The only one who is exaggerating is you
when you say I
always
exaggerate. It certainly feels like it's everybody.”

“Way to go, Ian!” a boy said as he passed by and slapped me on the back.

“Thanks.”

“Who was that?” Julia asked as the boy walked away.

“I have no idea.”

“At least he is on your side,” Julia said.

“On my side in what way?”

“You know, supporting the boycott.”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “He may have been thanking me because he's getting a free lunch from Frankie's.”

“You have to be kidding,” she said.

I shook my head. “Nope. It's running about fifty-fifty. Half the school is backing me in the boycott and the other half is happy to be getting a free Frankie's lunch.”

“How stupid. Do those people really think you'd cave in for a bunch of burgers?”

“Actually, I think a thousand burgers with fries and drinks is more than a bunch.”

“It doesn't matter if it was a million burgers because I know you wouldn't
trade your principles. I'm proud of you!” she said.

“You are?”

“Of course I am. Most people would have just given in, but not you.”

“Thanks.” I didn't have the guts to tell her I still hadn't completely made up my mind what I was going to do. Somehow, though, her words had an impact. I did want to make her proud of me.

“I was explaining to Oswald—”

“Where is Oswald?” I asked.

“Who knows…and who cares.”

I gave her a questioning look. “Did you two have another misunderstanding?”

“I really don't want to talk about it. I better get to class,” Julia said.

“Me too. See you later.”

Julia rushed off in one direction and I hurried off in the other. I'd gone no more than a couple of dozen steps when there was a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, buddy!”

It was Oswald. “You just missed Julia,” I said.

“I know…I saw her.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I saw the two of you talking. I just waited until she left,” Oswald said.

“Why did you do that?”

He shrugged. “I just feel like I need a little space. She can be a little annoying sometimes.”

“A little?” I questioned.

Oswald laughed. “If I tell you something will you promise not to tell me ‘I told you so' ?”

“Sorry, can't make that promise.”

“Okay, either way. It's just that I was thinking that maybe it wasn't such a good idea for me and Julia to start dating.”

“Do you think?”

“Okay, okay, I know you told me, and I know I should have listened to you, but what's done is done.”

“So are you going to break up with her?” I asked.

“I would, but I'm sort of afraid of her.”

This time I did laugh.

“Glad you think this is funny!”

“Well, it
is
funny. What do you think she'd do, beat you up?” I asked.

“No…probably not. It just would be easier if she broke up with me.”

“I have an idea how you could do that.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Just tell her you think I should try to cancel the boycott and get burgers for everybody.”

“Do you think that would work?”

“She's pretty clear about wanting the boycott.”

“Then, sure, I could tell her that.” He paused. “Do you think
you
could tell her that for me?”

“You really are afraid. Sorry, but I'm not doing your dirty work.”

“I guess that's fair. Besides, that wouldn't even be a lie about the boycott,” Oswald said.

“It wouldn't?”

“If it was me, I'd just write another e-mail. I don't think there's anything wrong with us all getting a free lunch.”

“If that's what you believe, Oswald, then
that's what you should tell her. Just be careful. She might actually take a swing at you.”

“I could live with that. Thanks for the idea. See you later.”

“Yeah, later.”

At that instant the bell rang. I was officially late for class. If you got there just after the bell, most teachers would still let you in. Unfortunately this wasn't most teachers—I was now late for law and Mr. Phillips, the teacher who had gotten me suspended. And he had the stupidest rule in the world. If the bell had gone and his door was closed, you had to “make a plea.” You had to claim you were “guilty” of being late and be sent down to the office for a late slip, or argue that it truly wasn't your fault and you “weren't guilty,” and he, as the
“
judge,” decided whether to admit you or send you down to the office. Talk about stupid.

I turned the corner of the hall just in time to see the door to his classroom close. That settled it. I had a pretty good excuse, but I wasn't going to play his game. I'd just go down and get a late slip.

“Hey, I-Man!” a voice yelled behind me.

I turned. There were five guys walking toward me. I knew them. Everybody knew them. They were the core group of a bunch of losers—kids who were making high school into a career rather than a four-year project. Maybe they figured if they hung around long enough the school would either give them a mercy pass or they'd become so old they would automatically become teachers.

They shuffled down the hall, and the few kids still around got out of their way. They stopped directly in front of me—well, sort of in front and beside, and one kid shifted over so he was behind me as well. I was surrounded. I felt uneasy and a bit scared.

“So, we heard you're the one who's getting us all a free lunch,” Tony, the biggest of the big guys, said.

“Um, yeah, I guess, maybe.”

“Maybe? What does that mean?” he asked.

“It's just that I haven't really made up my mind what I'm going to do,” I said sheepishly.

They all looked confused.

“It's just that they're only going to give everybody the lunch if I agree to go online and tell people not to support the boycott,” I explained.

“That makes sense. You couldn't really ask people to support a boycott when everybody in the school is eating their food.”

“So you understand!” I said hopefully.

“I understand good. I understand that if I don't eat I get a little cranky, and when I get cranky there ain't no telling what might happen.”

Tony suddenly reached out, grabbed me by the front of the shirt and slammed me into the lockers. He crowded into me. His friends all moved in closer too.

“Nobody cheats me out of a free meal!” Tony snarled.

“I…I could buy you a lunch,” I stammered.

Tony let go of my shirt but didn't move. He smiled. No, it wasn't a smile, it was a smirk.

“You must be one rich kid,” Tony said.

“It's under five bucks for a burger combo.”

“Yeah, but that's five bucks times twenty of us. You think I'm gonna eat without my buddies? You gonna feed all of us? You got two hundred bucks?”

“A hundred dollars,” I said, doing the math in my head.

“A hundred, two hundred, it don't matter to me ‘cause I'm not the one buying the lunches. And believe me, we better be getting lunch that day or somebody is going to get a serious bellyache.”

He balled his hand into a fist, holding it inches from my face. This was unbelievable. Right here, right now, I was going to get beaten up!

“Hey!”

We all turned. It was Mr. Phillips. His door was open and he was walking toward us. I never thought I'd be happy to see him.

“All of you get to class. Now!”

Tony didn't move. He looked at Mr. Phillips and then he looked at me. Then he smiled.

“We'll be seeing each other later…for lunch. Be sure to bring your wallet.”

Tony and his buddies slowly sauntered down the hall as Mr. Phillips approached. I stood there, still shaking, too stunned to move.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Is this another example of your sparkling personality making friends and influencing people?” he asked.

“I didn't do anything!” I protested.

“Then it has to do with this whole Frankie's thing, I would imagine.”

“It does!” I said.

He slowly shook his head. “Those people are geniuses.”

“What do you mean?” I asked defensively.

“You do something that's perfectly legal to make life difficult for them, and they figure out something, again perfectly legal, to make your life difficult.”

“To make my life impossible,” I said.

“We just started talking about the situation
in class—the class you're late for—when I noticed you weren't there, and somebody said they just saw you in the hall.”

“It wasn't my fault.”

“I believe it. Your boycott has been the subject of my class all day. It's amazing how it's divided the school. No matter what you do, what you decide, half the school is going to be mad at you.”

“You got that right. Either way I'm wrong. Either way I can't win.”

“Maybe the lesson here is that if you fight with the big boys you better be prepared to get hit by the big boys. You must wish you'd never started this,” he said.

“You got that right.”

Mr. Phillips looked at me. “What if I was able to show you a way out of this? A way where you can't lose.”

“That's impossible,” I scoffed.

“Do you want to hear my idea or not?”

I didn't answer right away.

“Well?”

“I want to hear your idea,” I said.

I peeked around the stage curtains and watched as the whole school slowly filed into the auditorium. I tried to pick out the familiar faces of Julia and Oswald, but I couldn't see them. I couldn't see my parents either. I knew my friends would be there, but there was a good chance my parents wouldn't. They had a pre-trial hearing and probably wouldn't be through in time.

“Good afternoon, Ian.”

I jumped, startled from my thoughts. It was Mr. Evans. He had a smile on his face and extended his hand to shake mine.

“It was very nice of your school to invite me to be here today,” he said. “Do I have you to thank?”

“Not me. Mr. Phillips…my law teacher.”

“I'll have to offer my thanks,” he said. “As a spokesperson for Frankie's, all we could ever ask for is the opportunity to present our message.”

What he meant was he was glad he had a chance to brainwash people.

“I see that there will be just the two of us speaking,” Mr. Evans said as he held up the program. “Me, and then you. Do you know what you're going to say?”

“I have a rough idea,” I said. What I didn't let on was that I'd been up most of the night writing and rehearsing my speech.

“Do you want to run it by me? Maybe I can help you, offer suggestions perhaps.”

“That's okay. I think it's better if it just comes from me.”

He figured we'd invited him here to
formally announce the free lunch and that I was calling off the boycott. That's what he thought, but not knowing for sure was bothering him.

“They say you should always save the best speaker for last,” Mr. Evans said. “So your speech has to be awfully good.”

I knew what he was doing. He was trying to bother me, make me nervous. I was already nervous, but his trying to make me more nervous was having the opposite effect. Instead of nervous I was getting angry.

“I've heard that most people hate public speaking,” Mr. Evans continued. “How about you?”

“I've heard that too.”

“I meant, how do
you
feel about standing up in front of an audience and talking? Does it make you nervous?”