Super Emma (2 page)

He always smells very clean, though, and I think he is going to be in the Olympics someday.

You have to start early for that.

During EllRay’s fight with Jared, Corey is standing behind EllRay, and a bunch of girls stand beside Corey, including me. Corey is moving from foot to foot as if the Oak Glen Primary School playground is as hot as a barbecue grill. He is glaring at large, mean Jared, but he doesn’t actually say anything.

Corey and EllRay are friends. Well, those two guys are friends with Jared, too, usually. The weird part about this fight, and about most fights between boys, I have noticed, is that it was probably for no reason. That’s why lots of things happen at this school.

“Give it back,” EllRay yells, holding out his hand. Next to me, my new friend Annie Pat makes a worried noise in the back of her throat. I try to touch her arm to calm her down, but I can’t stop looking at EllRay and Jared. I’m afraid I’ll fall over or something if I try to do too many things at once.

My stomach is starting to feel all jangly, as
though the tuna in the sandwich I ate for lunch has started swimming around in there. Digesting my lunch might be trying to do one too many things, it suddenly occurs to me.

I hope I’m wrong about that, because barfing at school is the second worst thing that can happen to a kid.

“
Make
me give it back,” Jared says calmly, as if nothing bad is happening. As if this is just an ordinary day.

EllRay takes a step forward. “I
will
make you give it back,” he says in a shaky voice. “I’ll—I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Jared asks, sneering. “You’ll tell the teacher on me?” He holds the figure tighter, smiles, and starts to bend the wing.

Everybody’s breath gets sucked in at once. It sounds as though the wind is blowing by.

“No-o-o-o!” EllRay howls.

“Oh, oh,” Heather echoes. That’s her favorite expression.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, someone jumps out of the crowd and grabs the toy—right out of Jared Matthews’s hand. “Quit it, you big bully,” that person yells.

Hey, it’s me! Emma McGraw!

I must be the most surprised person in the world right now, because I am not exactly brave. I like peace and quiet too much for that.

But no, Jared is even more surprised than I am. He staggers back, and his jaw hangs open like a panting lizard’s on a very hot day. He stares down at his hand as though he can’t really believe it is empty.

I shove the toy in EllRay’s direction.

“She saved EllRay,” someone whispers. “Emma saved EllRay—from Jared!”

“I only saved his toy,” I try to say, but the
words get stuck in my throat when I see EllRay’s face.

He doesn’t look grateful, not one little bit.

“Ha-ha on Jared,” one of the kids calls out.

“Rah-h-h-h,”
Jared roars, and he starts chasing that kid across the playground. He doesn’t even look at me as he whizzes by.

“Emma, you’re a hero,” Annie Pat says to me, and she sounds awed. The afternoon sun shining behind her makes her curly red pigtails look as though they are on fire.

I clear my throat and sneak another look at EllRay Jakes. He is just standing there, and the action figure is drooping in his hand. “I’m not a hero,” I say. “I only—”

“You only ruined everything,” EllRay says. “Thanks a lot,
Emma
.”

The way he says “Thanks,” though, you can tell he doesn’t mean it. He is mad at me, all right. But why?

EllRay and I stand very still for a second, staring at each other.

When the bell rings, it is as if it breaks a magic spell. The two of us can move again.

I never thought I would be so glad to get back to class, especially when we have a substitute teacher. Because when we have a substitute, the bad kids act up, and the good kids act nervous.

And if you’re a good kid, which I usually am, what’s so fun about that?

I am an only child, and that is not such a wonderful thing when you have an important question to ask an older brother or sister. A question such as this:
“Why is EllRay Jakes so mad at me?”

My mom says that I can ask her anything, but sometimes I don’t want to, because she gets worried when things aren’t going perfectly right for me. So I keep pretty quiet most of the time.

But I have to ask her this one question. “Mom? Ow.”

“Hold still, Emma,” Mom says, holding on to a wet tangled hunk of my hair, which is long and brown. It smells like a mixture of apples and
roses after I wash it. Mom is trying to work the comb through my hair.

“Ow,” I remind her.

“This doesn’t hurt,” Mom informs me. “See,” she says, “I’m holding it.” Mom claims that if you pinch hair, you can comb the ends without it hurting. Luckily, hair doesn’t feel pinches.

“Yes, but it might
start
hurting,” I remind her. “Mom?” I try again.

“I’m still here,” my mom says, moving her hands to another part of my head.

“Ow. Um, guess what happened during afternoon recess today?”

My mom stops combing. “What?” she asks. She already sounds concerned.

See, that’s the trouble about not talking very
much about school. When you
do
talk, your mother listens too hard. I shake my head a little to remind her about the combing. “Well,” I begin, “these two boys were having a fight.” I peek up at her.

Mom’s eyes get big and shiny. “A fight?
What
two boys?”

“No, wait, that’s not the important part,” I tell her. “Ow.”

“What
is
the important part?” Mom asks. She tries to shove one of her sleeves up without letting go of my hair. She wiggles her nose as if it itches.

I sigh. “Well, the important part is that I was the one who made them stop fighting,” I say. I leave out the part about me upsetting the boy-girl ecology of my entire class.

Mom stops combing again and pulls back a little. She looks at me as if she is watching
The Emma Channel
with all her might. “Good for
you, Emma,” she says, smiling. “I’m proud of you, honey.”

“Well, don’t be,” I tell her gloomily, “because now some kids hate me.”

Mom scowls. “What kids?” she asks. She can be like a mother bear who wants to bite anyone who bothers her cub. I’ve seen it before, on Animal Planet.

I’m her cub, and that’s another reason I don’t tell her stuff, sometimes.

“It was Jared and EllRay,” I say. “Jared took EllRay’s toy during recess and then called him a name.”

“A bad name?” Mom asks.

I think for a second. “Kind of,” I finally say. “But it was actually EllRay’s own real name.”

Mom tilts her head. “Which
is
?” she asks, obviously expecting me to tell her EllRay’s real name.

“Lancelot Raymond,” I whisper. “We had a substitute, and she gave it away.”

Now Mom shakes her head and smiles. “Poor EllRay,” she says. “But how did
you
get involved, Emma? I just can’t picture it.”

“Me either,” I admit, “but—I guess I jumped right in the middle of the fight and rescued EllRay’s toy, then I gave it to him. He was scared of Jared, and I hated seeing that.”

My mom scoops me into a hug and ruffles my wet hair. “I’m proud of you,” she says again, whispering the words into my ear. It tickles.

“But I wasn’t being brave,” I tell her. “I didn’t even think before I did it.”