This is What I Did (13 page)

Bruce found a weight-loss shake in my bag.

So Scouts was worse and Bruce and Toby and Luke laughed all the time because I’m crapstock and a molester, they said.

But I still went on time, every time.

Not one misstep.

So that Dad and Mom wouldn’t know.

Every time I went I’d just try not to talk or get in anyone’s way.

The other guys didn’t seem to hate me like Bruce and his followers did, but they didn’t seem to like me much either.

I mean, they didn’t talk to me and they were probably scared of me.

So that’s why when Jack brought up the Klondike Derby, I knew I had to find a way out. I also knew it would be next to impossible to get out of it because it was required: Jack made a big deal about it, and my dad had legendary stories about his Klondike Derby days.

But I tried.

I tried and I tried.

But I didn’t try hard enough.

Sometimes I wish I could erase everything that happened that night with Zyler.

I’d just go home after dinner and not to Zyler’s house.

Maybe I’d call him and he’d come over.

If we’d been at my house it wouldn’t have happened.

Nothing would have happened.

One time I asked Zyler how come he didn’t turn his dad in or anything.

He shrugged and kept shooting cans.

I didn’t know if I should ask again but then

He said: You don’t get it.

Me: What do you mean?

Zyler: Where would I go if Dad was gone?

Me:

Zyler: Sometimes you don’t get anything.

Me:

Zyler: Besides, it never works.

Me: You mean you’ve tried?

Zyler: I haven’t. But people have.

Me: Who?

Zyler: People.

He was quiet and then he shot a can. I sat there and then

Zyler: The worst one was Mrs. Magelby.

Me: Mrs. Magelby?

Mrs. Magelby was our fifth grade teacher and I couldn’t believe she of all people would try to rat out Zyler’s dad.

Me: Why was it the worst? What happened?

Zyler: I came to school and I guess I had a black eye or a big lip or something and she asked me about it and I said that I had fallen down or hit the door or something. And she got all mad and said she wouldn’t let it happen again. It’d gone on long enough.

He shot another can.

Me: So?

I still couldn’t imagine it. I mean, I could see her getting all concerned because she was our best teacher in elementary. Really young and pretty and really nice, but not tough or anything. Not anyone to take on Zyler’s dad.

Zyler:

Me: So? What did she do? Did she call Child Services or anything?

Mom was always saying Child Services would have Zyler’s dad’s head or something.

Zyler: No Child Services — she went straight to the source.

He missed a can.

Me: What do you mean?

Zyler: She went to see my dad right after school.

I almost choked on the candy I was chewing. We were in the field by the lake that’s out past the freeway, and like usual, he was shooting and I was watching — no guns, says Mom.

Me: What happened?

Zyler: Nothing.

Me: What do you mean?

Zyler:

Me: What happened?

Zyler: I don’t know. I know she came over. I know I had to go to my room. I know I heard my dad’s voice real loud. I know she never called anyone.

Me: Wow.

Zyler: Shut up.

Me: What was that for?

Zyler: Sorry.

Me: It’s okay.

And that was it.

My parents were always really nice to Zyler and let him sleep over.

He could even eat whatever he wanted even though we didn’t have good food and Mom was usually anal about snacks and stuff, but not when Zyler was around.

She said we just had to love him.

I know she’d talked to Dad about letting him live with us or doing something.

But Dad said we couldn’t and he wasn’t their son or anything and we didn’t know all the circumstances and being a single parent was hard.

But see, they didn’t know what really went on and I barely did and Zyler didn’t want anyone to know.

Zyler: Don’t tell anyone about my dad or anything.

Me: Why?

Zyler: Just don’t.

Me: Okay. But it’s pretty obvious.

Zyler: People need to mind their own business or else it could get not good, get it?

Me: Yeah.

But I didn’t really get it.

Zyler: Promise me you won’t say anything about my dad or anything.

Me: Okay.

Dr. Benson . . .

He’s actually not that bad.

He hates snow camping and he was in the school band.

He’s okay.

After play practice I didn’t wait for anyone like Laurel or the other ones who signed up for set making.

I just walked straight to the art room in C wing because I knew if I didn’t go straight I’d never go again, and I told Ms. March I would.

Mr. Jeffries was there. I have him for fifth period: Art 1.

He went: Ahh, Mr. Paloney. I’m so glad you’re here. We missed you yesterday.

Me: Thanks [It was all I could think of to say: Thanks].

Mr. Jeffries: Well, since you’re the first one, why don’t you help me get started on the trunk.

Mr. Jeffries was a pretty cool guy with a mustache and jeans instead of ties like a lot of other teachers. Plus, he thought I was good at things like collages and he said my pencil drawing of my tennis shoe was: Right on.

I said okay and I watched him showing us how to hammer the plywood together.

As he was talking, people — not very many, but some — started coming in.

They all seemed to know where to go, what to do.

Laurel came in semi-last and she went straight to where they were making leaves.

She didn’t look at me.

There hadn’t been any notes because I didn’t ever write back and I knew she probably hated me.

But then I did something.

I had to use a staple gun and there was one over by the leaves.

Me: Does anyone know where a staple gun is?

I knew it was by her, but I said it anyway.

Laurel: It’s right here.

And she handed it to me.

When I took it she didn’t let it go right away. That made me look at her. She looked back and sort of smiled.

And then she let go.

I was confused but I guess sort of relieved.

I decided to find out more about Laurel.

Stuff I know from just watching:

She got a C on her pre-algebra test about balancing the equation. I got a B+.

She has a locker in D wing.

Stuff I know from Lael, who lives on her street:

She lives on Richter Street.

She has maybe one or two brothers and sisters and her parents are normal.

Her mom used to be an actress and everyone knows it because she was in community shows and in the parade.

Laurel also won the spelling bee in sixth grade and went all the way to regionals — Lael was mad about that.

Oh, and Lael thinks she’s crazy.