The Mighty Quinn (12 page)

“Or perhaps it just seems that way, with all the literary clutter,” Mr. Andrews said.

“They only have a one-car garage, which is okay since they only have one car. But they have to park it in the driveway 'cause the garage is full of stuff: more books, wood and metal parts, tools, bikes, and two kayaks! Neally's dad bought them at a kayak rental shop sale. He buys everything used. Neally says his motto is ‘Reduce, reuse, recycle.'”

“Hear! Hear!” Marion Lee raised her water glass. “We should all live by those wise words.”

Mr. Andrews raised his glass and smiled through clenched teeth. “I'd be out of a job if everyone lived by those words.”

“It's not fair.” Mickey slumped in her chair. “I didn't get to go to Neally's house.” She sat up straight, folded her hands on the table, and said brightly, “But Neally said I could go next time.”

“You won't like it,” Quinn teased. “They almost don't have a TV.”

“How can you almost not have a TV?” Ms. Lee asked.

“They have one, but it's so small it's practically not worth it. I asked Neally about it, and ...”

“Don't tell me you made rude comments about the size of their television set, or about anything in their home?”

“Mo-om! I'm not that clueless. Besides, you can't be rude to Neally. She won't take it that way. When I said I thought it was interesting—the smallest TV ever is interesting, right? You know what she said?”

“I bet she said it like this.” Mickey lifted her chin and pretended to toss back her hair. “I love it when she does that.”

“You know, Mickey, your hero Neally never interrupts me,” Quinn said.

“Oh yes, she does,” Mickey insisted. “She does it a
lot
.”

Mickey was right. But no way was Quinn going to admit it to his parents. “I asked about her small TV and these were her exact words: ‘It's not like having a bigger screen makes the shows any better, or you any smarter for watching them.'”

Ms. Lee raised her glass again. “I'm starting to like this girl even more.”

“Me too,” said Mr. Andrews.

“Me three,” said Mickey. “And Sam and Quinn makes me four and me five.”

“I gather you and Neally and Sam are hanging out together,” Ms. Lee said. “But Sam didn't go over to Neally's?”

“We waited but he never showed up, so I called him. He couldn't find his piano book. His sister's in charge ...”

“Yea!” Mickey clapped her hands.

“His
older
sister,” Quinn grimaced at Mickey, “is in charge after school, and she wouldn't let him go 'til he'd done his practice. So he pretended to find his book and faked a practice and met us over here. Neally's dad packed up the leftover muffins for him ...”

“And for me!” Mickey exulted. “Muffin fairy, muffin fairy!” She poked Quinn in the ribs.

Quinn's father leaned back and folded his hands across his stomach. “Patience is its own reward,” he said. “If you listen long enough, most conversations will eventually make sense.”

“What did you do at Neally's house?” Ms. Lee asked.

“We ...” Quinn was going to talk about Neally's cats, but thought better of it. Mickey seemed thrilled to have discovered the identity of the muffin fairies, and he didn't want to hear about how unfair it was that he'd gotten to see Siamese cats. “We waited for Sam, and Neally showed me her mom's medical books. There are entire books about the awful things that can happen to human bodies. Neally showed me her favorite, the one
about skin diseases and injuries.” Quinn closed his eyes and recited slowly. “Der-ma-toe-log-ick something. It's got pictures of cuts, rashes, bites, and bruises, you name it, plus boils and sores and even infected amputations! The oozing ones are way intense.”

“Lovely.” Quinn's mother forced a smile. “Can you imagine posing for those pictures?”

“Neally said patients let doctors take the pictures, to help people learn how to treat injuries and diseases. They take pictures of the cut or whatever at the beginning, and later they take more pictures to show how it heals. They don't show faces unless the rash or cut is on the face; it's mostly body stuff. It's cool to look at, but I don't think I'd let a doctor take a picture of
my
scabs.”

“I would.” Mickey lifted her scraped elbow above her head. “Say cheese!”

“Did you survive the weekend?”

Quinn twisted in his chair and shot a
Huh?
look at Neally.

“You know.” Neally closed her eyes, laid her head on her desk, and pretended to snore.

“Sure.” Quinn was mildly annoyed that Neally would ask him about the sleepover, what with her desk being right next to Tay's. But Tay was frantically rummaging through his book pack and seemed unaware of the world beyond his desk.

“No way the math packet is due today,” Tay muttered. “No way.”

Quinn looked around. Everyone was seated, except for Josh, Matt, Teena, and Lily, who were hanging up their coats in the back. He scribbled a note and tossed it on Neally's desk.

Matt
&
Josh
&
Brandon and another scout stayed home sick! We were up 'til midnight playing Risk! I even got to sleep! Slow deep breaths, you know!

Neally clasped her hands over her head like a prizefighter. “Yes!” she exulted. “Victory to the Mighty Quinn!”

“The Mighty Quinn?” Tay looked up from his book pack.

“Math worksheets were due last
Friday
, Tay,” Neally said. “But just the first two pages.”

Click click, click click
.

“Okay fifth graders, it's Monday.” Ms. Blakeman's students stood up and faced the flag that hung from a pole bolted to the top of the chalkboard.

I pledge allegiance
...

Teena placed her right hand over her heart, twirled her hair with her left hand, and inched toward her desk.

...
of the United States of America
...

Josh elbowed Matt and pointed at the last row, toward Tay, Neally, and Teena. “Listen,” Josh whispered.

Tay amused himself by using an up-tone on every
other word: ...
and
to
the
republic
for
which
it
stands
... Teena hummed to herself, occasionally joining in the pledge but missing most of the words. Neally stood tall and silent, facing the front of the room, her hands at her side.

...
with liberty and justice for all
.

Click click, click click
.

“Seats, everyone. Arturo, would you please help me with these?” Ms. Blakeman and Arturo began to distribute a handout. “The first page is a description of the Noble Woods Preserve, the site of our community service project. The second page is the formal description of the project that goes to the judges. The third page lists what you'll need to take on the trip. Mr. Standers and I will provide the tools; you'll need boots, gloves, clothes that can get dirty ... it's all there, on page three. The last page is the permission slip. We'll be there through lunchtime, so everyone will need to pack a lunch that day.”

Ms. Blakeman dropped a handout on the floor, and her glasses slipped off the end of her nose when she leaned over to retrieve the papers. “I need a speed bump,” she said, tapping the end of her nose. “Our bus will leave promptly at eight-thirty and be back in the early afternoon. The trip is not until next month, but we need a head count for ...”

“One, two, three ...” Sam pointed at the desks in front of him. “Where's Brandon's head?”

“... so please have the permission slip back by Friday.”

“Forty acres of hiking trails, bridges, and overlooks ... blah blah blah.” Sam read from the handout. “Creeks meandering through natural forests and meadows, set aside to preserve native vegetation.” Sam lowered the handout and used his Serious Voice. “It's a good thing for young people to help preserve native creek meandering.”

“A field trip in February,” Tay said glumly. “It'll rain, for sure.”

“You are likely correct, Master Denton,” Sam said. “My dad could give us the forecast.”

“YOO HOO!” Kelsey flapped her hand and spoke before Ms. Blakeman called on her. “HOW MANY ADULT VOLUNTEERS DO YOU NEED? MY MOM COULD GO, AND ...”

“We're not kindergartners.” Josh looked down the row of desks and winked at Matt. “We don't need someone to hold us by the hand in case we need to go to the toity in the woods.”

Although the entire classroom erupted with hilarity, Josh's bizarre honking was easily recognizable above the rest of the students' laughter.

“Spring is early this year,” Neally said. “I hear geese returning from their winter migration.”

Click click, click click
.

Ms. Blakeman wrote Josh's name on the chalkboard.
“Five minutes off recess,” she said to Josh, “for speaking out of turn. Fifth graders, while Josh could have chosen better words to express his opinion, it's true, you're no longer in kindergarten, and I expect your behavior shall demonstrate that fact. At the preserve we'll divide into three groups, with one adult supervisor per group. Mr. Standers and I will each lead a group ...”

Please, please, not Kelsey's mother
. Quinn focused his thoughts, wondering if it was possible to send a telepathic message to his teacher. Kelsey waved her hand and wriggled in her chair, trying to restrain herself until she was called upon. Her cheeks began to turn red.

“Warning, warning,” Sam said. “Evacuate deck three; containment breach imminent.”

“Call on her before she explodes,” Tay muttered.

“I appreciate your offer, Kelsey,” Ms. Blakeman said. “Your mother is a champion field trip leader, and I'm sure we'll use her skills later in the year. But we're going to give other parents the chance to participate. Mrs. L'Sotho, Lily's mother, will be our third group leader.”

Kelsey's hand thudded onto her desk. Quinn realized he had been holding his breath. He exhaled slowly, savoring the smile he could feel spreading across his face.