The Bully Book (2 page)

The classroom was still noisy, so Mr. Whitner didn't notice.

“What did he say?” I asked Melody.

“Don't listen to him,” she said, loud enough for Jason to hear. “He's a jerk.”

I turned back to them, but now Donovan was the one standing up. He was staring at me too, like I was a total stranger. And he didn't have nearly enough lip to cover his scowl.

Melody and me stayed away from Donovan the rest of the day, but when her mom picked her up outside of school, I didn't know what to do. Donovan and I always rode the bus together.

But he and Jason Crazypants both got a ride with Adrian Noble's dad. They were pushing each other and laughing.

I rode the bus alone today, for maybe the first time ever.

Let me tell you about something called the Social Order. You can't see it, smell it, or touch it, but it's everywhere and it controls everything. It says who's cool, who's lame, and who's not worth talking to.

What is it saying about you? Look around your class. Where do you fit in?

If you're at the top, you can probably stop reading this book right now. But if you're not, and 99 percent of people aren't, then the Social Order probably isn't too fun. It tells people that it's okay to make fun of you, and laugh at you, and treat you like crap. It probably feels like there's no good reason, and it's totally random, and you've got no control.

But what if I told you that you do have control? That there's a way to change your position, your popularity, and how people treat you?

Draw up a chart. Let's call it a Class Coolness Chart. At the top, write the name of the most popular kid in your class and then every other kid in order until you get to the least popular kid.

But here's the catch: Don't write how it is in your class. Write how you want it to be.

Take some time to do this now.

If you set things up the right way, the Social Order of your class will eventually look like your chart. That's what this book is about.

The two most important positions are the names at the top and the bottom. The name at the top should be you.

If your name isn't at the top, just throw this manual away right now—you don't have the heart to do what comes next.

Still with me?

Good, 'cause now you're gonna realize the second most important name is the one at the bottom. The Grunt. I'll tell you how to pick him out later, because it's very specific.

The Grunt is the key to the entire plan.

We had music class today, which in 5th grade meant singing “In the Jungle” in unison, but this year, we were getting real instruments.

“What are you gonna pick?” Melody said to me as we walked down the hall.

“A trumpet,” I said. I blew into my hands and made a trumpeting noise.

“Yeah,” she said. “Hopefully the real thing will sound less fartlike.”

“Depends on which end I play it from,” I said.

“Eww!” Melody laughed and pushed me against the wall.

“Let's keep it moving up there,” Mr. Whitner said. He always seems stressed out about something.

In music class, I wanted to sit next to Melody, but the teacher had already made a seating chart and put it up on the board. When I got to my assigned seat, I found Adrian Noble, Jason Crazypants, and Donovan White surrounding me on all sides. They weren't sitting where they were supposed to, but I guess Music Lady didn't notice.

When it came time to get our instruments, I looked at Melody across the room. She made a fart noise with her hands. I smiled and turned to Donovan.

“What instrument are you gonna pick?” I whispered. He didn't turn his head. I asked him again and his eyes widened.

Music Lady opened a box about the size of a desk drawer.

“Okay, everyone. Let's pass these out!”

She grabbed a white plastic pipe with holes in it and held it in the air.

“A recorder!” she said. “It's like a clarinet, but made of plastic, so it's cheap enough that everyone can have one!”

I set mine down on a music stand. Melody caught my eye from across the room. She shook her head and pretended to stab herself in the eye with the recorder. I wished I had just broken the rules like Jason and them and sat with Melody.

Music Lady told us to try making a sound. I reached for my recorder, but it wasn't on the stand. I looked to see if it had dropped on the floor. I popped my head under my chair.

A horrible sound straightened me up. Thirty terrible musicians blowing spit and bad breath into thirty awful instruments. I put my hands on my lap.

“Excuse me, young man,” Music Lady said over the crowd. “Where is your recorder?”

“Uh …” I looked around again. Jason Crazypants was sitting at my right.

“I don't know.”

“You just received it a minute ago. What is your name?”

“Eric Haskins.” The class quieted and turned its attention to me. The silence was worse than the playing.

“Well, Mr. Haskins,” Music Lady said, louder than she needed to. “That recorder is school property. You'll do well to find it.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said, and I got out of my chair. Kids around me started giggling. Everyone looked.

“We can wait,” said Music Lady.

I picked up my backpack and emptied it. I got down on the floor and crawled under my chair. I said excuse me to Jason Crazypants and checked under his chair. He put his hand over his crotch and said, “Don't look at my nuts, man.” A few kids laughed.

“I wasn't …” Sweat formed above my eyebrows. This was taking too long. On my hands and knees, I crawled over to where Adrian Noble sat.

“Ugh, get away from me, gaywad!” He pushed me to the floor and some guys behind me laughed. I guess Music Lady didn't see.

“We're still waiting,” she said. I turned to Donovan, who had been sitting to my left.

He was staring down at his lap. Guilty-like.

“I think you guys took it,” I said, standing up.

“What'd you say?” Jason Crazypants grabbed hold of my sleeve.

“You guys took my recorder.” I pulled away from him. “One of you three.”

“Boys,” Music Lady said. “Did you take Mr. Haskins's instrument?”

“They did,” I said. The three of them traded a look. “They're not even sitting in their assigned seats.”

Jason could barely contain his glee. “You're tripping, Haskins,” he said with a laugh. “Your recorder is right there.”

He pointed at my music stand, and a white plastic tube sat there, rocking gently, like it'd just been set down.

“Oh!” Music Lady laughed at me. “Too quick to blame, Mr. Haskins. Now back to our instruments!”

The recorders squealed and I sat down. Melody mouthed, “It's okay,” from across the room.

I tried to blow into my recorder, but I didn't have much breath. Jason Crazypants whispered in my ear.

“You gonna cry, Haskins?”

I wasn't, but my throat swelled up when he said it. I hate how that happens.

“You're a loser,” Adrian Noble muttered from behind me. Donovan sat silent.

“I am not,” I said back.

“You can't help it,” Jason said. “It comes with being unpopular.”

He smiled. “It comes with being the Grunt.”

The Grunt is a person. But it is also something that you create.

By the time you're done, the Grunt will be the loser of all losers to everyone in your class.

Your job is to make that happen, and the best way to do it is to make fun of the Grunt in front of everybody.

Call the Grunt names, make fun of how the Grunt looks or acts or talks. And make sure everybody can see and hear so they all get the idea.

Eventually, the class will catch on, and they'll start working on the Grunt for you. But in the beginning, you'll have to do all the work. This is a good thing because putting the Grunt on the bottom is a nice way to show you're on the top.

And it can be pretty fun.

For some insurance/lawsuit/nonexistent reason, we still take group bathroom breaks … in 6th grade.

The whole class lines up against the wall, and we go in four at a time. Today, The Evil Three stood next to me so we would be in a bathroom group together.

Now my usual way to do my private business involves puffing out my elbows and locking my eyes on the wall in front of me.

I guess this isn't everyone's method.

Adrian Noble grabbed my arm and peeked his head over my shoulder, looking at me pee.

“Toxic!” he screamed.

Jason Crazypants grabbed my other arm.

“Sick!” he yelled. “This gaywad's toxic!”

I've never claimed to pee flowers, but this was definitely an unfair situation. I pulled my arms free and tried to cover myself. I needed to get out of there. I had to pee faster.

I cursed my mother for packing me 2 Hi-Cs. I was tied to the urinal by a liquid rope.

Mr. Whitner called, “What's going on in there?” Everyone could hear what was going on.

“It's Eric Haskins!” Crazypants screamed. “He peed on himself!”

Outside the bathroom, there was silence. Maybe they don't believe him, I thought. Jason Crazypants is a liar—everybody knows that.

I was almost finished. I could run out and tell them it's not true. He tried to watch me pee. I could turn it all around on him.

When I zipped up, I felt the truth. I'd panicked when they tried to look at me.

My pants were darkened with something … and it wasn't Hi-C.

Mr. Whitner entered the bathroom and immediately took charge. He ordered The Evil Three out and told Jason Crazypants to lead the kids back to the classroom. I could only imagine what he was going to tell them. Melody wouldn't believe a thing. But Donovan followed him out like a dog.

“Here,” Mr. Whitner said, holding a ream of brown paper towel. “Pat yourself dry.”

Mr. Whitner's never struck me as someone especially in control. But even with his bad comb-over and thin white dress shirt, he seemed almost heroically in charge.

I patted my pants until you couldn't even see the wet spot, but I still felt dirty.

“Sorry you've gotta see this,” I sighed to Whitner.

“Don't worry about it,” he said.

“No, seriously,” I told him. “I'm not usually like this.”

“Bad things can happen to anybody, Eric,” he said. “Trust me.”

We tossed the dirty paper towel and Whitner asked if I wanted to be sent home for the day.

“Like you wouldn't believe.”

He told me he didn't have the authority to excuse someone. Only Principal Clark could do that.