The Knick Knack Nightmare Page 3

  Sean dodged side to side, but he couldn’t get past Mr. Muscles. Sean’s green face turned red. He punched his fists together, but the man wouldn’t budge.

  The elevator arrived at the bottom. Arvin and I pushed the twin grannies aside and sprinted for the exits. We sat, slumped in Mom’s car until Sean burst through the exit door and ran in the wrong direction.

  KNOCK KNOCK

  Arvin and I jumped out of our skin. “Mom, don’t do that.”

  She laughed. “Didn’t mean to startle you. What are you doing in there, boys? Talking about girls?”

  I sat up and peeked out the window. “Mom, really?”

  “Never mind me. Arvin, your mom’s waiting for you in your car.”

  “Thanks, Ms. Dobbs.” Arvin gave me a stern look and put a finger to his lips.

  “Relax. I won’t say a word.”

  Mom spent most of Saturday and Sunday pacing back and forth, making phone calls to the detective, and leaving cryptic messages for Martin. After two hours of tapping on her phone screen, she had worn a short path into the carpet outside my bedroom door. “Where is he?”

  “Who? The detective?”

  “No. Martin.” Mom put her phone up to her ear. “He should’ve gotten my messages by now. Where is he?” She continued pacing in the hall, the phone screen lighting her worried face in the darkness.

  That night I dreamed of saving damsels in distress and slaying vile serpents and demons - most with Sean’s face, a few with Martin’s. And I didn’t feel guilty at all.

  My alarm went off at 6:45 AM the next morning, waking me as I was thrusting my sword into the demon’s black heart. I glanced at Mom’s childhood alarm clock on my dresser and wondered how those two hands worked after so many years. The clock’s clucking plastic chickens and meowing cats told me it was a small world, but I knew better. The song reminded her of simpler times. Life wasn’t simple. It hadn’t been for either of us. Not for years.

  Mom knocked on my door to the rhythm of the alarm. “Breakfast is rea-dy - aaaf-ter all!”

  “I’m awake. Please stop singing.”

  “I’m so proud my little man is already a sophomore. Do you see the clothes we picked out?”

  We?

  “I put them on your dresser.”

  “Yeah, I see them.” I ignored the irony and wiped the crusty gunk from my eyes. “Where did you buy these?”

  “Since you couldn’t find anything you liked, Patricia picked out something in your size. Don’t worry. She has good fashion sense.”

  I swung my feet over the bed and grabbed the clothes off the dresser - my favorite jeans with the bronze knight still tucked deep in the pocket, a white polo shirt with a single blue stripe around the collar, plain white socks, blue canvas shoes, my best Minnesota Twins baseball cap, a dark red backpack, and a new pair of Dragon Sorcerer underwear. I hoped Mom picked that out.

  I looked at myself in the mirror. Not bad. At least I looked look my age. I grew an inch over the summer, and my hair had recovered - it took long enough - from another one of Mom’s summer haircuts that made my head look like a lemon. I was handsome, and I couldn’t wait for Emilia to see. Good job, Ms. Pewter. I pulled the little knight out of my pocket, zipped it into my backpack, and headed down to eat breakfast.

  I climbed the bus steps and walked down the aisle, past seat after brown vinyl seat, looking for a spot to sit. Older kids shook their heads, saying “Not here,” or growling as though I were trying to take away their favorite chew toy.

  The bus driver, Mr. Park, couldn’t wait for me. “Move it, Kid. Find a seat.”

  Good thing Kaila and Emilia’s dad drove them to school today.

  Half-way down the aisle, I recognized ‘Satan’ Davis wearing his usual black everything, leaning against the window, legs stretched out to claim the whole seat.

  “No losers.” Sean waved me away. His thick fingers stuck out of black, fingerless gloves.

  “Then why are you sitting there?” I sat in the last seat at the rear as the bus continued ahead.

  Sean got out of his seat, ready to tear off my lips. The bus lurched and stopped, sending Sean face-first into the dirty aisle. He stood up and pulled a wet leaf off his forehead. A narrow stream of muddy water rolled down the wide bridge of his nose and dripped into his mouth. He spit in the aisle. “That’s it, Dobbs.”

  “I said sit down. Now, Sean!” Mr. Park shouted into his mirror. The bus door squeaked as it folded in two and opened.

  Sean snarled, pounding his fist into his palm as he sat back down. His chapped lips furled over fuzzy cracked teeth.

  Why do bullies speak the same language?

  Mr. Park pulled the bus door shut and drove off once again.

  Sean picked out his next target. “No Chipmunks.”

  “I’m back here, Arvin.” I waived my hand in the air.

  As soon I saw him, I wanted to slay both the blonde dragon and her friend, the ginger dragon. I scanned Arvin up and down. He wore a red backpack, blue jeans, a white polo shirt with a single blue pinstripe around the collar, plain white socks, and blue canvas shoes. I suspected Dragon Sorcerer briefs lurked underneath, but I had no desire to find out.

  Arvin nodded. “Yes. She did.”

  Ten minutes and three stops later, Mr. Park parked the bus and pointed at the door. “Get out.”

  Nelson High was one of those historic brick buildings people loved to take pictures beside. They rubbed their hands over the chipped marble pillars and traced their fingers over words carved into its granite steps: Amicitiae nostrae memoriam spero sempiternam fore.

  Nelson had history, and history has stories. This building had plenty of both. Fifty years ago, the school installed a large bronze clock, frozen at seven fifty-nine, high above the looming entrance. It was there to remind students ‘on time’ was being a minute early. But since the first bell had changed to a quarter ‘till eight, on time had become fourteen minutes late.

  Grandparents would tell their grandchildren, “Nelson High was built right after the war,” and “I was here when President Truman cut the ribbon,” or as Mom said a million times, “I met the love of my life in those halls.”

  Mom often drove past Nelson, telling the same story over and over again. It changed a little each time she told it, but it always ended the same. And sometimes, I had to remind her of the details.

  “I met your father in chemistry class. Oh, you should’ve seen him.” Mom sighed. “He burned off his left eyebrow trying to turn his pencil into gold. Mrs. Baskin was so angry. She made him keep his hands in his pockets the rest of senior year.”

  “Dad said he was trying to turn an eraser into gold. And it was his right eyebrow.”

  “He looked so stupid missing his left eyebrow and sporting that dumb smile.”

  “Dad said he burned off half an eyebrow - his right eyebrow.”

  “I told him I’d draw on a new eyebrow with my mascara. I used an ink pen instead.” She giggled.

  “Dad said you used a blue permanent marker. It took over two months to wash off and six months for half of his eyebrow to grow back - his right eyebrow.”

  “He laughed as hard as I did. That’s when I knew.”

  “You knew—”

  “He was the one,” we said in unison.

  With Martin in her life, I wondered if there could be two ones.

  Arvin and I were last to enter school as the first period bell rang.

  Sean surprised me. He grabbed me from behind, yanking off my new backpack and pulling me backwards into a row of metal lockers.

  I hit with a clang, my head denting the top one. “You Jerk! Leave me alone.”

  Sean held me against the lockers. “Where do ‘ya think ‘yer go’n, Dobbs?” Arvin tried to pull him away, but Sean shoved Arvin onto the speckled linoleum floor. He pulled me face-to-face. At least half a spinach omelet protruded from the gaps between his teeth. “Did ‘ya call me a loser?” His sour milk breath made my stomach do loop-d-loops.

 
I retched. “You called me a loser first. Now, let me go.”

  “Let him go.” Arvin stood his ground with clenched fists. “Aren’t you late for remedial English?”

  “I still owe ‘ya from Ghost Glen, so shut ‘yer mouth Poo-ter before I play stomp-a-chipmunk.” Sean pushed me harder against the locker.

  “How original! Five years since we met, and you haven’t come up with anything better.”

  Sean grimaced and twitched. Thinking looked painful for him. “Before I play stomp-twin-chipmunkseses.”

  Arvin rolled his eyes.

  “Let me go, Satan. I’m going to—” My stomach churned and tightened. “I’m going to—”

  BLEEEEH

  A rancid stew of half-digested blueberry oatmeal and orange juice spewed out of my mouth. The vomit waterfall splashed on Sean’s chin and flowed over his shirt. It dripped into his socks and onto the speckled floor.

  Arvin laughed. “Three times in three days!”

  I almost felt sorry for Sean - almost.

  Arvin shook his head, still laughing. “Serves you right. Perry told you to let him go.”

  “That’s it, Poo-ter. I’m gonna stomp ‘ya!” Sean shoved me onto the floor and grabbed hold of Arvin’s shirt collar. “And then I’m gonna stomp Dob — Ouch! Stop! Stop!” Sean screamed and flailed his leg.

  “Stop what? I haven’t even touched you. You’re grabbing me.”

  Sean pushed Arvin onto the floor beside me. “Something’s biting me! Get it out! Get it out!” He kicked his leg harder into the air, desperate to expel whatever creature had crawled in there. But it was no use. Several drops of blood splattered onto a low locker as he swung and flailed his leg. Something small and brownish-red shot out of Sean’s pant leg. It hit the locker with a metallic DING and fell to the floor behind my backpack. Sean collapsed onto floor beside Arvin and me. He held onto his bleeding ankle, sobbing.

  A tall man in a blue suit and square horn-rimmed glasses came around the corner. “What’s going on here?”

  “Principal Davis, something bit Sean.” Arvin was quick. “We were trying to help.”

  “Is that what happened, Sean?”

  Sean looked stunned Arvin hadn’t tattled. “Yeah, Dad. Chip - I mean Arvin and Perry was helping me.”

  “It’s ‘were helping’.” Mr. Davis bent down to examine the wound and comfort his sobbing hell spawn. He winced. “Looks like half a dozen snake bites.” Mr. Davis looked around the corner, down the hall, and peered under my backpack. “I don’t see what could’ve bitten you, but it’s gone now - whatever it was. I’ll take you to nurse Lewis.” He helped Sean to his feet, and they hobbled down the hall towards the nurse’s room. Principal Davis turned back. “Mr. Dobbs and Mr. Pewter, stop by Mr. Sully’s office on the way to class. Tell him I said to call pest control. And tell your teacher why you were late.”

  “Okay, Mr. Davis.” I tiptoed to my backpack and lifted it off the ground. “How did that get out?” I picked my little bronze knight off the floor.

  “Nice figurine. Where’d you get it?”

  “It’s one of Mom’s knick-knacks. She gave it to me to replace my coin. I was going to show it to you at lunch. I wonder how it get out of my bag?”

  Arvin took the backpack out of my hand and spun it by the top loop. “See here. There’s a small cut on the side. The knight must’ve fallen out when Sean pushed you into the locker.”

  “It’s a new backpack. There weren’t any cuts this morning.”

  I held the little knight in my fingers. The armored figure grasped the hilt of his little silver sword. The tip of the blade bent to the right like an upside down “L” over the its helmet. Something warm dripped off the sword into my palm, making a red streak as it flowed along the creases in my skin and smeared between my fingers.

  Arvin gulped. “It can’t be. Is that—?”

  “Sean’s blood.”

  I rolled the knight in my Twins baseball cap and stuffed it into my backpack’s side pocket. That’s where it stayed until lunch.

  We sat at the long, beige table, staring at the figurine. A wide dent crossed the back of his bronze helmet, and the tip of his sword was bent more than the rest of the blade. Tiny droplets of blood had splattered and dried on its armor. We were so transfixed by the knight, we hadn’t noticed Emilia sitting across from us, watching us stare at the bloody knight.

  SNAP SNAP SNAP

  “Earth to Perry and Arvin.” Emilia waved her hand in front of my face. “Isn’t it great?”

  “What is?” I rolled the knight in my hat and zipped it in my backpack again.

  “The food. I can’t believe we’ll get to have a vegetarian lunch twice a week. Tofu burger, soy brownie, apple slices. They smell so good!”

  “I guess.” I nudged Arvin with my elbow. “What do you think?”

  Arvin hovered his face over his meal and took a loud, exaggerated breath. “Ahhh. Delicious cardboard.”

  Emilia giggled. “Well, I think ‘Meatless Monday’ is a great idea.” She took a big bite of the beige burger. Her face turned bright pink. She returned it to the tray and gulped a bottle of organic lemonade. “On second thought, cardboard may have been an ingredient.”

  Arvin leaned over the table. “I think ‘Meatless Monday’ should be ‘Candy Machine Monday’ instead. What do you say?”

  “Agreed.” I looked at Emilia.

  She sighed. “Agreed. So what were you guys looking at?”

  “Nothing special.” I shrugged.

  “Was it a knight figurine? Looked like it.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  Emilia’s eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms. “Try me.”

  “I—”

  “Speaking of trying,” Arvin interrupted, “I wanted to have lunch with Kaila today.”

  Emilia pushed her full tray aside. “Kaila’s a junior now. She’s eating with the other juniors and seniors over there.” She pointed to Kaila sitting among a dozen older friends at a long table at the other end of the cafeteria.

  Arvin sighed. “Too bad. It would’ve been nice to see her today.”

  “Shame,” Emilia said, speaking to Arvin but looking at me. “I’ll tell her you wanted to talk. Anyway, did you guys hear about Sean Davis?”

  I pushed my tray next to Emilia’s. “What about him?”

  “A wild dog attacked him this morning.”

  Arvin laughed. “Who told you that?”

  “Sean told our entire math class. It bit his ankle, but he scared it away. The nurse said he has to get four or five rabies shots.”

  “Sean needs rabies shots,” I said, “but there weren’t any dogs.”

  “So, what did it?”

  I glanced at my backpack, sitting on the floor under my feet.

  “Let me guess. I wouldn’t believe that either.”

  “Something like that.”

  Emilia got up and swiped her tray off the table. She stomped across the cafeteria and dumped her lunch in the trash on her way out the door.

  I glanced at Arvin biting his bottom lip. “What did I say?”

  “Don’t look at me.”

  After school, Arvin and I walked the three miles home. We passed a hundred white and blue houses along the way. Heavy cloth curtains slid open, old ladies peeked out, and pulled them shut again. I could’ve sung “Three Blind Mice” to the rhythm of it. Open - Peek - Close. Open - Peek - Close.

  We were halfway home before Arvin said anything at all. He picked a few wayward worms off the sidewalk and laid them under a nearby holly bush, taking care not to hurt them. “Stay warm, little fellas. Winter’s coming, you know.”

  “What’s up with you? You’re acting strange. Didn’t you see Old Man Morris sitting on his porch swing? He dropped his dentures in a cup of fizzy water and then drank from it. Nasty, fizzy denture water.”

  “Oh? Was it interesting?”

  “Interesting? Arvin, it wasn’t interesting. It was—. I don’t know what it was, but it wasn�
�t interesting.”

  “What was what?”

  “Arvin? Are you even listening?”

  “Thinking, mostly.” He stopped on the sidewalk. “About Sean, the knight, Kaila and school.”

  “Well, cut it out. You think too much, especially about Kaila.” I slapped his shoulder. “It’s not a secret. Everyone knows.”

  “Not everything. Not everyone.”

  “If this is about my magic coin, I said we should keep it secret. Remember?”

  “I know. It’s not that.” He walked ahead.

  “Then what?”

  Arvin pressed his lips together. “Do you keep any other secrets? I mean, secret secrets.”

  “No. Not really. Well, nothing important.” I pulled him next to an oak tree. “Wait a sec. Do you have a secret?”

  He shook his head. “Let’s get home before dark.”

  “Have it your way. Keep your secret - whatever it is.”

  THREE

  We arrived at my house sometime after five o’clock. Cirrus clouds, lit the color of candied ginger and apricots, streaked across the pale, blue sky, far into the distance. A cool breeze blew through the trees. Branches swayed. Their dry leaves twisted and twirled, falling onto the ground, tumbling the length of Shelby Lane. An unmistakable chill shot down my spine. I shivered. Minnesota Autumns are never late.

  Mom and Ms. Pewter were in the kitchen baking enough bread and pastries to stock a supermarket. They wore matching ladybug print kitchen aprons over their normal professor clothes. Ms. Pewter had dyed her hair again, cherry red like Arvin’s. Last week her hair was brown. Black the week before. Blonde before that. She was a hair color commando, blasting away her roots every weekend. They didn’t stand a chance.

  “Mom, what’s all this for? Are you and Ms. Pewter preparing for Nuclear war?”

  Mom removed a beautiful pair of golden pound cakes from the oven. “I’m glad you’re paying attention in school but no. Patricia’s just teaching me a few new recipes.” She removed her oven mitts and returned to kneading a large ball of dough.