The Mighty Quinn (13 page)

Victory to The Mighty Quinn
.

BRRAAAUUMPPPH
.

Quinn cupped his hand over his mouth and mumbled “Excuse me” to the other kids in the four square line. It was nice of Neally to have shared her sandwich with him, but the pita's garbanzo bean filling was coming back to haunt him.

Tay, always appreciative of a good belch, raised his hand and batted an imaginary high-five to Quinn. “You are the man!”

“Quinn may be the man,” Neally laughed, “but who goosed that water buffalo?” She shuddered and palm-smacked the side of her head.

Every kid standing in the four square line laughed. It was good laughter, Quinn thought, even if Matt
joined in, because everyone acted as if Quinn had produced that splendid burp on purpose, solely for their amusement.

“You gotta meet my Aunt Gwen.” Matt ran his fingers over his forehead, twisting his pale eyebrow hairs into little spikes. “If you give her a soda pop she can burp the alphabet.”

“The entire alphabet?” Neally asked.

“A to Z.”

Matt pulled his shoulders back, looking tall—well, tall for Matt—and proud. For the first time in a long time Quinn didn't feel a knot in his chest at the sound of Matt's voice. And so for the first time in a long time Quinn asked Matt a question. Giving Matt an opportunity to open his mouth was usually the last thing on Quinn's mind.

“Can your aunt do that with any kind of drink?”

“No, it has to be carbonated. There's a trick to it.” Matt spoke earnestly, as if he were describing how to decipher a treasure map. “And not all sodas are created equal; you gotta test out the brands. Orange soda, no way. A total dud.”

BREEAPEEEE DARRROOOOOP!

All eyes turned to Josh, who looked breathless but proud after his enormous burp.

“Dude!” Tay said admirably.

“Did you hear it—‘Beavers drool?' I burped, ‘Beavers drool,'” Josh insisted.

“The Beavers are the Oregon State University's mascot,” Sam whispered to Neally. “My mom went to OSU.”

“Then you're a Beavers fan?” Neally whispered back.

Sam glanced at Matt and Tay. “Sometimes.”

“Does this mean you drool?”

“Lemon-lime sodas are okay and colas are better, but not the diet kind.” Matt continued to earnestly explain the finer points of burp fabrication. “Aunt Gwen says root beer's best. She can do the whole alphabet, plus punctuation, on two gulps of A & W Classic Recipe. She's practicing the U of O fight song.”

“That's the University of Oregon,” Sam explained to Neally.

“Ducks rule!” Tay solemnly announced.

A light flashed in Neally's eyes. “
That's
the duck school?”

“U of O, The Fighting Ducks,” Matt said. “They rule.”

Neally splayed her knees out and waddled from side to side. “I rule!” she quacked.

The four square server yelled “Next!” and bounced the ball to Tay. Tay dribbled the ball but did not join the game.

“Imagine being able to belch the Pledge of Allegiance,” Tay mused. “That would be the best skill ever. You'd be remembered for all of school history.”

“I would pay real money to be able to do that,” Josh chimed in.

“It would be a most admirable talent, but the pledge is longer than the alphabet,” Sam pointed out. “It might take four gulps of industrial strength root beer.”

“I agree, it would be a worthy contribution to our school's culture. Does your aunt enjoy a challenge?” Neally elbowed Matt. “Could she belch the entire Pledge of Allegiance?”

Matt nodded his head. “Piece of cake.”

“I was asking about the pledge.” Neally laughed. “But she could burp cake if she liked, I wouldn't mind.”

“At least she'd be saying the pledge,” Matt said. “Which is more than some people do.”

“I said,
next
!” the four square server called out.

Tay bounced the ball to Josh and turned his back to the four square court. Josh threw the ball back to the server and looked at Matt and Neally. “This'll be way better than any bouncy-bouncy ball game,” Josh muttered, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Respect alert, respect alert.” Sam spoke in his robot voice. “Pledge-belcher; must alert proper authorities.”

Neally returned Matt's stare, but said nothing.

“Like I said, even belching the pledge would at least be saying it,” Matt said. “Which is more than some people do.”

Although Quinn was certain there was an accusation behind Matt's words, the usual,
I'll-get-you
look in Matt's eyes was absent. Matt seemed more curious than angry.
Quinn wasn't sure if that realization made him feel relieved or anxious.

“Some people? Some people?” Sam mechanically lifted and lowered his arms. “Does not compute.”

“Well?” Matt said.

“Well, a deep subject,” Neally replied. “Or sometimes, it's just a hole in the ground.”

“So, why don't you say it?”

“Why doesn't she say what?” Quinn asked.

“The Pledge of Allegiance,” Josh said. “We heard her, right Matt? She didn't say it.”

“You heard me
not
say it?” Neally asked. “What is it you heard me say, if I didn't say it?”

“We ... ah ...” Josh's brow scrunched and his lips twitched.

“Uh-oh, Josh is trying to think,” Sam whispered to Quinn. “Better fetch the drool bucket.”

“Nothing.” Matt's voice was oddly calm. “She said nothing. That's the point. Everyone else was saying the pledge.”

“You didn't say the pledge?” Sam asked.

“Didn't.” Neally nodded her head. “Don't.”

“Why don't you say the Pledge of Allegiance?” Matt asked.

“I used to. One day I thought about it, and so now I don't.”

“Why don't you say the pledge?” Matt persisted.

“Why do you care?”

“We say the pledge in class every Monday,” Matt said. “That's what we do.”

“I don't try to get anyone else
not
to say it, so why should anyone care if I do or don't?”

“Because we're supposed to say it, as a class. It's to show we're all together, to support our country. It's important.”

Matt did not sound angry, more like confused, Quinn thought. Still, Quinn began to feel the familiar,
look-out-Matt-is-talking
tightness clasping at his stomach.

Neally smiled sweetly. “If it's important to a person, shouldn't that person be thinking about what he's saying, instead of eavesdropping on other people?”

Quinn counted eight silent seconds before Matt responded.

“Maybe you don't support our country.” The cold, biting edge had returned to Matt's voice. “Maybe you don't love our country.”

Josh quivered in anticipation of the chance to mock someone. “Maybe she's a fat-Buddha-statue lover, like Quinn's grandpa.”

“What?!” Quinn sputtered. “My grandpa's not ...”

“A fat Buddha? How redundant.” Neally patted Josh's shoulder, as if calming a hyperactive poodle she was trying to paper-train. “Translation, Josh: redundant is the ultimate ‘duh.' When have you ever seen a skinny Buddha?”

“Bud-duh!” Tay said. “Excellent.”

“So, Neally, why don't you say the pledge?” Sam looked around at the other kids, his eyes composed and curious. “I'm just asking. I don't care if you do or not. But if you were, say, from another country, where they don't ...”

“She's from Washington state, not another country,” Matt persisted.

“Or maybe some kind of different religion?” Sam offered.

“Yaweh's Disciples?”

The group turned in unison to look toward the musical voice that floated up from the end of the line. No one had noticed that Lily L'Sotho had joined the four square line. Lily looked startled by all the eyes trained upon her, and for a moment it seemed that she might bolt like a deer and run for the trees.

“Huh?” Josh looked around the schoolyard. “Where's Arturo? Where's Janos?”

“Zip it.” Tay crooked his arm, as if he were going to put a headlock around Josh's mouth.

Lily's chin dipped, and she fingered the hem of her skirt and did not make eye contact with the others as she spoke. “There are people who take no oaths.” She paused, searching for the right words. “Their faith says make no pledge, only to their god.”

“I've read about that,” Neally said. “There are groups like the Yaweh's Disciples ...”

“Oh yeah, Joey's disciples,” Josh said. “What kind of church would ...?”

“It's pronounced YAW-weigh,” Neally said. “
Yaweh's
Disciples. Is that your parents' church, Lily?”

“No.” Lily smiled bashfully at Neally. “My family, we are not them.”

“Oh,
those people
.” Tay grimaced. “They go from house to house and knock on your door. They try to get you to invite them inside, and you don't even know them.”

“Why would anyone want to talk with someone they don't know?” Quinn asked.

“Salespeople talk to people they don't know all the time,” Sam said. “Ever done a fundraiser for soccer or Scouts?”

Quinn shot a dirty look at Sam, who knew full well that Quinn was not a Scout and had never been on a sports team.

“We've had them come to our street,” Sam said. “People from other churches too. If my sister sees them coming she pulls down the window shades and says we can't answer the door.”

“They say they're not selling anything,” Tay said. “But my mom says they try to get you to buy their magazine that says their church is right and yours is wrong.”

“
They're
the ones who need something that tells the
truth,” Matt said. “If they came to our house, my dad would set them straight in no time.”

“That would be so much fun to watch!” Neally clapped her hands. “Like those wrestling matches on TV!”

“
You
watch wrestling?” Sam laughed.

“No. But I've read about it. My parents say we're not sophisticated enough for such ...” Neally held her fingers up in the quotation sign, “‘high class entertainment.' But I bet they'd let me watch ‘
My God Can Head Slam Your God.'
”

“There's only one God.” Matt clenched and unclenched his fists. “You shouldn't make fun about stuff like that.”

“Shouldn't?” Neally flipped her hair off her shoulders. “One person shouldn't tell another person what to talk about.”

“This is so boring,” Tay yawned.

“God is
not
boring.” Matt's face turned the color of Ms. Blakeman's chalk.

“Look, no one's on the court anymore—we even bored the server out of the game.” Tay gestured toward the empty four square court. “Why is anyone talking about this stuff; who cares? Does this look like a church?”

“It sure doesn't look like a four square game,” Sam piped up.

“Superb point, Mr. Washington,” Neally said.
“C'mon, we'll double up, everyone can play. Lily, would you be in my square? You and I could beat 'em all, standing on one leg.” Neally raised her foot and hopped toward Lily.

Quinn ran to the server's square with Sam. “Quick,” he called back to the others, “before the sixth graders come back.”