The Stupendous Dodgeball Fiasco (13 page)

“No, that’s not what I mean. I should have said something when Stinky threw the ball.”

“You saw him do it?” asked Phillip.

Aunt Veola looked away.

“Of course you did,” said Phillip, thinking out loud. “You were the scorekeeper. If anyone had been paying attention, it would have been you.”

“I should have told them it was Stinky’s fault, not Matilda’s. I was afraid if I said anything I would be an outcast. But the guilt from not saying anything was worse. I felt like I was covered in dirt.” Phillip wondered if that was why Aunt Veola was always cleaning her hands and wiping things with disinfectant.

“Then Matilda ran away and disappeared,” she said. “Most people still think it was her fault, that she was showing off by trying to hold up too many cheerleaders.”

Aunt Veola removed a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her steering wheel. She tried the ignition again and the engine leaped to life. Her voice was so shaky, it made the car seem like it was wobbling, too.

“They say that nobody told on Stinky, but they’re wrong. Felix did. He told the principal what he saw. He made the
mistake of forgetting to take off his mascot uniform when he did it. You can’t blame the principal for not believing him. It’s hard for people to take someone seriously when he’s dressed like a giant dodgeball with a stuffed hedgehog hanging off.”

Phillip silently agreed.

“But Felix tried, God bless him,” she continued. “I could never forgive myself for not going with him. But Felix forgave me. He loved me anyway. Forgive and forget, that’s his motto. I guess the forgiving is worth the forgetting.”

Aunt Veola’s face softened, and her driving became smoother.

“I’m glad you told me,” Phillip said. He wanted to ask Aunt Veola for more details about the fiasco. Where did his mother go when she disappeared? Whatever happened to Stinky? But he figured maybe he should be quiet and try not to further upset Aunt Veola. He had caused enough of a commotion for one day.

W
hen the circus comes to town, local people are often hired to do odd jobs. To ensure they get paid before the circus pulls up stakes, local authorities used to remove a nut from the wagon wheel of the circus office. Consequently, a “nut,” in circus lingo, is a term for the daily cost of operating a show. A “nut,” in the vocabulary of public school children, is a person who does something that seems insane, like suing your uncle’s boss.

Phillip knew that Uncle Felix would be home after dinner. Aunt Veola said it was Phillip’s job to tell Uncle Felix about his lawsuit. He should have told him earlier, but talking to Uncle Felix always seemed to make things worse, so he had kept putting it off.

Aunt Veola had been wonderfully understanding about the lawsuit, even supportive. But Uncle Felix might react differently. After all, he worked at the dodgeball factory. How would Uncle Felix feel about his nephew suing his employer?

When they pulled up to the house, Uncle Felix was sitting on the front stoop. A worried expression came across Aunt Veola’s face.

“Tell me you came home early because you’re sick or something,” she said.

“It was something,” he answered.

“Fired again?” she asked.

“Now, Veola, it wasn’t my fault.”

“They don’t fire people for nothing,” she said. She pushed past him and went into the house.

“It really wasn’t my fault,” Uncle Felix said to Phillip. “You believe me, right?”

“I do believe you,” Phillip said. I should tell him about the lawsuit now, he thought. Whatever the reason they told him he was fired, the real reason was the lawsuit.

As if on cue, Uncle Felix asked, “Do you know why I got fired?”

Phillip nodded.

“It was that missing screw. If it wasn’t for that missing screw, the door to the seaming machine would have stayed shut. You can’t let dust get into the machinery. Who would be dumb enough to leave the door open?”

“It wasn’t the screw,” Phillip said. “It was me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I sued the dodgeball factory. I didn’t want Aunt Veola to have to pay for my new glasses.”

“You did what?” Uncle Felix asked.

“I didn’t think about what would happen to you. They fired you because I sued the factory.”

For the first time since he had met Uncle Felix, the man was rendered momentarily speechless. Then a sly smile spread across his face.

“I’ll be doggoned,” Uncle Felix said.

“I apologize for getting you fired,” said Phillip.

“You didn’t get me fired,” Uncle Felix said. He motioned for Phillip to move closer. “It wasn’t the screw either. That was something I cooked up for Veola so she wouldn’t hit me with a frying pan. The truth is, I forgot—” He looked around nervously and lowered his voice. “I forgot to put the lid on the toilet seat down after I used it.”

“They can fire you for that?”

“Actually the company president fired me for using her private bathroom instead of the employees’ restroom. Forgetting to put the seat down is how I got caught.”

Phillip didn’t know what to say.

“That’s the third time this year I’ve lost my job for forgetting to do something.” Listening to Uncle Felix talk about his troubles was kind of weird. No grown-up had ever confided in Phillip before. He wanted to help. Uncle Felix was a good guy, just forgetful. He wasn’t that different from Phillip’s dad. Both were clownish. Except his dad had found a way to turn it into a career. Sam was right—that was kind of cool.

But the important thing right now was to help Uncle Felix find a new job. Phillip went straight to Sam, who agreed that he would ask around. Within a few days, with Sam’s help, Uncle Felix had a new job as a cargo loader at the Hardingtown Airport.

Sam also gave Phillip an update on what was happening in the lawsuit. There was grim news.

“I got a call from an old friend who works at the trophy shop,” Sam explained as they sat at their usual table. “Seems the lawyers for the dodgeball factory are poking around asking questions about you.”

“Why?” asked Phillip.

“They’re digging up dirt for the hearing, most likely,” said Sam.

“I don’t understand.”

“These lawyers are out to win, and they may stoop to taking cheap shots if they think it will help.”

“How?” Phillip asked.

“It’s like this,” explained Sam. “If they ask you questions about your parents and circus life, it may fluster you, get you upset, and make you look foolish.”

“It won’t bother me,” said Phillip, nibbling a ketchupy chip. “Everybody already knows I came from the circus.”

“Do they know your mother is the fat lady? Do they know you have a morbid fear of custard pie? Do they know your father is a clown, and that he does a gag wearing a baby diaper and bottle?”

Phillip felt his ears flush. “Can’t you stop them?”

“I can try,” said Sam. “But the bottom line is that you have a decision to make. Are you willing to continue with your lawsuit even if it all comes out?”

Phillip imagined a banner hanging across Hardingtown Middle School that said:

“I made you promise not to quit,” Sam said, “but I don’t want you to get hurt worse. So I’m releasing you from your promise. If you want to drop the lawsuit rather than have the whole school find out about your family, if you’re afraid to go on, I’ll understand.”

Phillip leaned back in his chair. Its legs made a squeaky sound against the floor. How had things gotten this out of hand? All he wanted was to be a regular kid. Maybe he should drop the lawsuit. Mr. Race said it was wrong for a kid to sue his own school. Maybe he was right.

“What do you think I should do?” Phillip asked Sam.

“It’s your decision,” Sam said.

Phillip thought about what would happen if he quit. He thought about going back to school and having to play dodgeball again. He thought about watching the kids getting beaned and bumped and slammed and whacked and hearing them being called sissies if they didn’t pretend to enjoy it. He thought about Stinky throwing the dodgeball at his mother and of all the people who saw but were too scared to do anything about it. If he did nothing, would he, like Aunt Veola, spend the rest of his life regretting it? Phillip took a deep breath.

“I don’t want to drop the lawsuit,” he said, “and I’m not afraid to go on.”

T
he Windy Van Hooten Circus once put up posters announcing that a genuine unicorn would be performing in their show. One morning, the animal arrived in a large wooden crate. Phillip, expecting a one-horned horse, was disappointed to find a one-horned goat. His mom explained that the word unicorn simply means “one horn.” So the circus wasn’t really lying when it said it had a genuine unicorn.

Phillip wasn’t really lying to Sam when he told him he wasn’t afraid to continue the lawsuit. At the time, he hadn’t been scared. But now it was Monday, he was at school, and B.B. Tyson was coming down the hall.

Phillip slammed his locker shut so he could hurry off, but the sleeve of his shirt got caught in the door. B.B. was headed straight for him. He twisted and pulled to yank the cloth free. But it was too late. He was trapped. Phillip hid his stuck arm behind his back and tried to look casual.

“I need to talk to you,” B.B. said. She was so close, he could smell her mint toothpaste. “Somewhere private.”

“No,” said Phillip, discreetly trying to tug his sleeve free. “Here.”

B.B. shot him a funny look. The hallway crowds had thinned and the remaining kids were heading toward their classrooms.

“Okay,” she said. “It’s about your lawsuit. I want you to know how I feel about it.

Phillip glanced around uncomfortably. She was going to clobber him, then and there. He didn’t need the whole school to see it. On the other hand, she wasn’t likely to beat him to death in front of witnesses.

“I’ve never seen my dad so angry,” she said, “and Vice-principal Race, too. All because of some nobody kid. It was so…so…”

B.B. raised her arm, and Phillip readied himself for the blow.

“So cool,” she said. “I mean, here I am thinking you’re completely spineless because you don’t like to play dodgeball. Then you pick a fight with the whole school, with the whole town.”

She flipped a strand of hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. “There’s hope for you yet.”

Phillip’s mouth was still hanging open as he watched her zip off to class. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his free shoulder.

“Phillip, geez, where you been?” It was Shawn, breathing heavy like he’d been running. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“What?” asked Phillip, still half dazed from his encounter with B.B.

“You have to swear not to let anyone know I told you.”

“Okay,” said Phillip.

“Swear it,” demanded Shawn.

“I swear,” said Phillip, crossing his heart with his free hand.

“A bunch of kids were talking. Their parents work at the dodgeball factory. Next dodgeball game, they’re going to try to put you out of commission.”

“How many kids?” Phillip asked.

“More than you can handle,” said Shawn. “If you want my advice, the only way you’re not going to get hurt in gym class is if you make sure you get hurt
before
gym class. Catch my drift?”

Phillip caught it. He was suggesting Phillip fake an injury to get out of gym class. Phillip decided he would take Shawn’s advice. He would bandage a finger. When Coach asked him what had happened, he would say he had slammed his locker door on himself. It wouldn’t be a complete lie.

“Thanks,” he said.

He watched as Shawn and the other kids scurried off to class, leaving him all by himself. Strangely, for the first time since he arrived in Hardingtown, he didn’t feel alone. Shawn was on his side. Even more amazing, B.B. Tyson had chosen not to beat him to death. Phillip felt like things might finally be starting to go his way. Until he remembered his sleeve was still stuck in the locker.