121 Express (3 page)

Mr. Adams was on curb patrol. That meant we could pretty much do whatever we wanted as long as no one got thrown into the street and run over by a car. Mr. Adams was one of the youngest teachers at Lorne Crest. I guess he still remembered what being a kid felt like.

Mr. Adams gave me a high five when he saw me waiting with Jake and Pierre. “Hey, Lucas,” he said, “I was talking to
my cousin, Jeanette, over the weekend. She teaches at Lasalle Regional.”

Uh-oh. Jeanette Adams had been my grade six English teacher. Now that I thought about it, she and Mr. Adams looked alike. They were both short, with dark skin and dark almond-shaped eyes.

“She told me your nickname, and to be honest, Lucas, it took me by surprise.”

My body stiffened. Uh-oh, I thought. Now the guys are going to know the truth: Before I came to Lorne Crest, I was as nerdy as Sandeep Singh. I tried staring at Mr. Adams, hoping that would make him stop, but he didn't get the message. My face felt hot.

Jake rocked on the balls of his feet. “So what was Lucas's nickname?”

I remembered the fun I'd had at Jake's on Saturday and wondered if I'd ever get invited over there again.

Mr. Adams slapped me on the back. “Brainiac,” he said.

I gulped. Maybe I could talk my way out of this. “I—uh—don't think so. Your
cousin must've mixed me up with someone else.”

“I don't think so either,” Pierre piped in. “Not with the mark he just got on our science quiz.”

Mr. Adams's eyes narrowed. “I get it,” he said, nodding. “Jeanette must have you mixed up with someone else. Someone with a brain.”

That made the other guys laugh. “Luke's got a brain,” Jake said, elbowing me, “only he hardly ever uses it.”

Pierre was pulling out an ad from one of the Plexiglas holders over the windows. The ad had a blue and white peace sign on it.

Georgie laughed as he read the wording: “Paix sur l'autobus. Paix sur la terre.” That was French for “Peace on the bus. Peace on Earth.”

“What a joke!” Georgie said.

Valerie shot Georgie a dirty look. Judging by the sticker on her Mp3 player, she was pretty serious about the subject of peace.

Once Pierre fished the whole ad out, he
tore it into ribbons and passed the ribbons around. The rest of us scrunched the paper into balls and hurled them toward the front of the bus. Some of the kids at the front tried ignoring us; others threw the paper balls back at us. It was almost as good as a snowball fight.

Jewel chu's eyes widened, and when she covered her mouth with her hand, I started to wonder what was freaking her out. As I turned around, I heard a chorus of “oohs” and then Jewel saying, “That's so gross! How could she?”

Kelly Legault, who was sitting two rows behind me, had climbed onto Georgie Papadopoulos's lap and was checking out his tonsils. At least that's what it looked like.

That Kelly Legault was hot all right. I couldn't help wondering what kissing a girl that way would feel like. Pretty good, I guessed.

“Free show!” Jake called out.

Then everyone at the back started clapping. Jewel Chu looked like she was about to throw up.

When the bus stopped at a red light, Jake nudged me. “Hey, Brainiac,” he said, handing me a tub of yogurt. “I dare you to dump this on that car's windshield. Jake used his chin to point at a shiny black Nissan with tinted windows. It looked like it had come straight from the car wash.

One of the things about hanging out with the cool guys is that sometimes you have to make split-second decisions. This, I realized, was one of those times. If I said no, Jake would think I was a wimp. And who knew what kind of trouble I could get into if I said yes?

If only the light would turn green.

But it stayed red.

Pierre's pale blue eyes were shining. “Go for it, man!” he said.

I took a deep breath and grabbed the plastic tub from Jake. “Just don't call me Brainiac!”

Jake grinned. Then he leaned over and opened the window a little wider.

Now other kids were watching me
too. I guess they were bored of gawking at Kelly and Georgie.

“Come on!” Pierre called out.

There were other voices too, egging me on. “Yeah, Lucas, do it!”

The last thing I noticed as I threw the tub of yogurt out the window was that it was field berry. It seemed like a weird thing to notice.

I'd aimed for the middle of the Nissan's windshield. I couldn't help feeling proud when I saw the yogurt tub explode as it made contact with the glass. A second later, the entire windshield was splattered with pink goop.

Jake clapped my back.

“Look what he did!” someone at the front of the bus called out.

The kids at the back were all laughing. They laughed even harder when the driver of the Nissan turned on his windshield wipers. Now there were goopy pink arcs on the windshield. “He's only making it worse!” Pierre yelled.

Even though throwing the yogurt was
probably the worst thing I'd ever done, it felt good. Liberating, I guess you could say.

But this other part of me was watching the traffic light. It was still red. Was it broken or what?

What happened next seemed to take place in slow motion—the way bad things usually do. The door to the Nissan popped open. A man with a flushed face, wearing a shirt and tie, got out.

I felt a pit at the bottom of my stomach.

The light was still red.

The man made a fist.

The light turned green. Gun it, I thought, hoping somehow the driver would hear my wish. But he didn't gun it.

He yanked on the hand brake. The man with the tie marched over to the front of the bus. He raised his palm in the air like he was directing traffic.

“Hey, this is great!” Jake shouted. “Better than the movies!”

I wasn't so sure.

The bus driver sighed as he opened the front door. The rest of us watched in silence as the man climbed onto the bus, taking two steps at a time. He was breathing hard. So was I.

Jake had slid the window shut. Was it my imagination or were there pinkish specks on my seat? Could it be field berry yogurt?

I thought about switching seats, but of course, it was too late for that. If I stood
up, I'd look suspicious. So I leaned as far back into my seat as I could.

The man headed straight for the driver. “Who the hell threw that yogurt at my car?” His face was almost as red and shiny as the traffic light that hadn't changed in time.

The driver shrugged. “I wish I knew. They're all monsters—especially the ones at the back.”

Once he realized the driver couldn't help him, the man turned to the rest of us. His voice boomed as if it was coming through a loudspeaker: “Do you understand how dangerous this could have been? I couldn't see out my window! I could have caused an accident! People could have gotten hurt!” When he raised his arm in the air, I noticed a ring of sweat under his armpit.

I tried not to squirm, even when Kelly uncrossed her long legs and winked at me.

“I demand to know who did it! Who threw that yogurt?” The man looked toward the back of the bus, eyeing every single one of us. Somehow I managed to meet his gaze.

I wondered who would turn me in. Sandeep? It would be a way for him to get even for me calling him raghead on the first day. Jewel? She was just the type to rat out another kid. Valerie? She thought I was a personal enemy of Mahatma Gandhi. Or maybe one of my friends from the back of the bus? Someone who'd tell on me just for the fun of it.

But no one said a word.

The man reached into his pocket for his cell phone. “If you don't tell me who's responsible, I'm going to call the police!” he said, snapping the phone open.

Uh-oh, I thought. Now I'm cooked. I imagined the police hauling me off the bus. Then I imagined my parents' faces when they'd get the news. Their son—their only child, the one who, up to this year, had been a model student—arrested for public mischief.

I tried not to move. But now, other kids were squirming. I looked over at the front of the bus. Jewel was chewing her lip. Sandeep was buried in a textbook.

No one was going to turn me in.

The driver got up from his seat and put his hand on the man's shoulder. “You're not going to get anything out of these kids. The monsters have a code of silence. And phoning the police won't get you anywhere, either.”

The man made another fist and shook it in the air. “You might have gotten away with it this time, whoever you are. But take it from me—life's gonna catch up with you. And it'll make you pay.”

“Hey, that's pretty funny—life's gonna make you pay!” Jake jabbed me in the ribs.

Pierre's shaggy head poked up from the seat behind us. “That guy's a real nut,” he said. “I mean it's not like anything happened. Maybe he just doesn't like yogurt!”

“Maybe he's got a milk allergy!” Kelly added.

The light was red again, but when it turned green, the bus driver didn't move.

“Hey, what's going on?” Jake called out.

The driver was hunched over the wheel.
But then he stood up and turned to face us. “Look,” he said in a quiet voice, “I've had it with you monsters. That guy was right— someone could have been hurt just now. So I've made a decision: I'm not driving you anywhere today. You're on your own. Get the hell off my bus!”

Jewel gasped. I couldn't tell if it was because the driver was kicking us off the bus or because he'd used the word
hell
.

There was grumbling everywhere—up front, in the middle and at the back where I was sitting. “I'm going to be late for my piano lesson,” I heard Sandeep say.

We all waited a few minutes before getting off the bus—in case the driver changed his mind the way our parents sometimes did when they got angry. But he didn't. He just sat there, tapping his foot on the floor, and not looking at any of us when we finally filed out of the bus.

We walked to the metro station in a pack. It took twenty minutes, even though we were hoofing it.

Valerie was up ahead. When we stopped
for a red light, I saw her balance on one leg to kick off a shoe. Then she leaned down to examine her heel. She must have had a blister. When she caught me looking at her, she glared.

Jake had thrown his arm over my shoulder. “Hey, that was cool, man!” he said. “I'll never forget how red that guy's face was when he got on the bus.”

“Or the way the yogurt smeared under the wipers,” Pierre added, laughing.

I couldn't see Sandeep. He must have started running to get to his piano lesson.

I decided not to feel guilty. I might have tossed the yogurt at the guy's car, but in a way, I told myself, we'd all done it. Every single one of us.

The whole bus reeked of burnt plastic. “Ick,” Jewel Chu called out, wrinkling her nose. Valerie slid open a window to let in some fresh air.

Georgie and Pierre had used their lighters to melt the plastic bell cord. Part of the plastic had melted right off. In a couple of spots, you could see right down to the wire.

The bus driver coughed so hard I thought he might let go of the wheel.

Burning the cord was Georgie's idea. I think he came up with it because he and Kelly were in a fight—something about him forgetting to phone her—and he wanted to take his mind off of her.

In the meantime, Kelly was cozying up to Jake.

“Hey,” we heard her ask him, “did you get a haircut?”

“Uh-huh. Actually, I got them all cut.”

That cracked Kelly up. “You look really good,” she told Jake.

From the way Jake laughed, you could tell he was embarrassed.

“My back's killing me from gymnastics. D'you think you could rub it for me?”

Jake shot a look at Georgie, but Georgie was busy with the bell cord, burning another spot. There wasn't any orange flame, but you could see more of the plastic starting to blister.

It was kind of like a science project. Until now, I'd never thought about what was inside one of those cords. Of course, it made sense. Wire was stronger than plastic
and something that got pulled so often had to be strong.

Jewel's voice brought me back to what was happening on the bus. “That is so disgusting,” she said. First I thought she meant the smell of the burnt plastic, but then I realized she was pointing at Kelly and Jake. I peered between the seats in front of me for a better look. All I could see were the tops of their heads, but I was pretty sure the two of them were making out.

Lucky Jake, I thought.

And poor Georgie.

Georgie was coughing now too.

Someone—I didn't see who—threw an apple toward the back of the bus. When Georgie caught it, his face relaxed for a second. He looked at the apple as if he was deciding whether he wanted to bite into it.

Maybe Georgie wasn't hungry. Maybe the apple had too many brown spots, or maybe Georgie felt bad about Kelly and Jake, and he just felt like throwing something. I wasn't surprised when he leaned over to
open a window and got ready to hurl the apple out the window.

“Hey, Georgie!” someone called out. “Watch out for that little old lady on the curb!”

Jewel Chu cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Kelly,” she shouted, “but are you and Jake going out now?”

That's when Georgie threw the apple out the window—hard. I could tell from his eyes he was aiming for the old lady. I bit my lip as I watched the apple sail through the air. I didn't want the old lady to get hurt, but I have to admit I felt excited at the same time. A guy never knew what could happen next on the 121 Express.

The apple grazed the side of the old lady's head. Her lips made an
O
before she went clattering down to the ground.

Jewel's face was pressed up against the glass. “Oh my God!” she shrieked. “That poor old lady! I think she fainted—or worse!”