The Mighty Quinn (19 page)

“What a liar!” Matt said scornfully, even as he desperately craned his head to look at the seat of his pants. Mr. Standers grabbed Matt's hand before Matt could wipe off the chalk. Mr. Standers looked at Matt's pants, then at the words on the bridge. “Josh, come here.” Mr. Standers crouched low, ran his fingers down the side of Josh's pant leg, and held up his chalky finger. Josh shifted from foot to foot, as if he were Brandon after drinking a six-pack of soda.

Arturo crawled out onto the bridge on his hands and knees and wiped at the graffiti with his gloves. “
Problemas
,” he muttered. “
Problemas grandes
.”

AnnaClaire tried to sound cheerful. “If we all help it'll only take a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Arturo and AnnaClaire. Everyone get to work.” Mr. Standers spoke slowly, with a quiet, dreadful firmness in his tone that had the students wishing he were yelling instead. He turned to Matt and Josh. “Not one word to each other, do you understand? Josh, you're in the back of the line. Matt, up front with me. I'll talk with each of you, separately, when we get to the parking lot.”

“Fifth graders, it seems we've ... fifth graders? FIFTH GRADERS?!”

Click click, click click
.

The driver scowled as the clicker, amplified by Ms. Blakeman's makeshift paper megaphone, ricocheted through the bus. Ms. Blakeman stood at the front of the bus and announced that despite having to wait an extra twenty minutes for Mr. Standers' group to catch up, they'd made it back in time for the tail end of lunch recess.

“Please take your packs with you. Mrs. L'Sotho, Mr. Standers, and I will take care of the equipment. And before we leave please take a moment to think about ...” Ms. Blakeman's glasses fogged up. She lowered her chin, let them slide down her nose, and wiped the lenses clean with a bandanna she wore around her neck. “What a magnificent job you did! I hope you all appreciate that.”
She dabbed her eyes with the bandanna. “You've fifteen minutes left of recess, so make the most of it. And what do we say to our fearless leaders?!”

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!

It sounded as if a busload of Kelsey Kings burst into cheers, and the driver covered his ears. Ms. Blakeman's class stampeded out of the bus and headed for the playground, all but Matt and Josh, who followed Mr. Standers and Ms. Blakeman into the school's administrative office.

Quinn ignored the sound of his name being called and jogged toward the field. It hadn't rained for a couple of days; no whistle was going to keep him from running today.

“Hey, Quinn.” Neally walked as fast as she could, looking right and left for the playground supervisor. She broke into a run a few feet before she reached the field. Neally pumped her arms up and down, her pace smooth and confident, but Quinn had a head start. “Wait up! Are you training for a marathon?”

Quinn ran even faster. It seemed to help untangle the knot in his stomach.

“Could you please wait up?”

Quinn slowed his pace to a jog, then to a fast walk.

“You're not even breathing hard,” Neally panted. “You're in better shape than I thought.”

Quinn raised one eyebrow in an attempt to look mysterious. “I have many secrets.”

“Not as many as you think. I sat next to AnnaClaire on the bus. Boy, that girl can talk when she's got a story to tell. And Tay was right behind us, listening in. He's such a snoop. Look at him now, playing secret agent.”

Quinn's eyes followed Neally's finger, which pointed toward the administrative building. Tay had pressed himself against the wall, by the window next to the building's back door. He alternately peeked through the window and flattened himself back against the wall, then suddenly pushed himself away from the wall and ran toward Neally and Quinn. The door flung open and Matt, followed by Josh, exited the administrative building.

“Nice going,” Tay huffed to Quinn.

“You're welcome,” Quinn replied.

“What did you find out?”

“Josh caved to your dad,” Tay answered Neally. “A total admission. He's such a wimp. And it isn't even such a big deal. The chalk came off, most of it.”

“Do they get detention?” Quinn asked hopefully.

“Nah. They don't even have to miss recess, just stay after school for a writing assignment.”

“‘We will not do stupid things. We will not
be
stupid things ...'” Neally feigned scribbling on a sheet of paper.

“But get this, Ms. Blakeman called their parents! Matt's dad is going to go into orbit.” Tay looked gravely at Quinn. “You better watch your back.”

“Why'd it have to be me?” Quinn beseeched the sky. “I
had
to be the one that saw them.”

“But you didn't have to be the one to tell.”

“What
are
you?” Neally looked at Tay as if he'd asked Quinn to stomp on a newborn baby chick. “What kind of a person are you?”

A familiar voice rumbled behind Neally. “He's a loser kind of person, if he hangs out with this rat.”

Tay laughed uneasily and jammed his hands into his pockets. Neally turned to face Matt. She ignored Josh, who as usual was two steps behind Matt. “So brave of you to tiptoe up on us,” she said icily.

Quinn's heart rose when he saw Neally's composure. He'd made a choice at the Noble Woods to tell the truth, now he had to choose to respond to the next thing Matt would do. With Matt, there was always a next thing.

“Chalk on a bridge, oh, disaster! Go run and tell Neally's daddy!” Matt sneered at Quinn. “Everyone hates a rat.”

“A rat
fink
,” added Josh.

“Yes, everyone hates finks,” Neally said. “Especially finks who try to pin the blame on someone else for what
they
did. Did you think anyone would believe Brandon would do something so lame?”

Quinn stretched his shoulders and filled his lungs with cool air. “Besides, Brandon's the best speller in class.”

“The best speller, wow, that makes sense,” Josh snickered.

“Everyone knows he is, Josh,” Neally said.

“And everyone knows you can't even spell your own name.” Quinn folded his arms across his chest. “You misspelled ‘drool.'”

“It has
two
o's,” Neally said. “Like nincompoop.”

Josh's face turned purple and his lower lip wobbled.

“It's over, all right, okay?” Tay pleaded to Matt. “Big whoopee. Let's play tag, or something else before recess is totally wasted, okay?” Tay's voice rose to a squeak on the
okays
.

Neally looked at Tay as if he were an oozing scab. A light switched on behind her eyes, and she turned to Matt. “Good idea,” she said. “Let's play tag. I declare a challenge.”

Quinn knew Neally was up to something. The first one who declared a challenge got to pick the two tag leaders, who in turn got to pick their team members.

“I'm Captain One; Tay, you're Captain Two. I pick Matt and Quinn, and we'll get Kelsey, and ...” Neally looked around the school yard. “Where's Lily? She's fast, once she gets going.”

“Josh, you're with me,” Tay said. “I get Sam and Arturo, they're over at four square, and James and ...”

Neally cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled across the schoolyard. “Hey, Lily!” She turned to Matt and smiled sweetly. “You don't mind having Lily on our team?”

“Why should I care?” Matt stared vacantly at Neally.

“Who cares who's on anyone's team?” Tay groused. “I'm rounding up mine. Be on the field in one minute or you gotta forfeit one player.” Josh followed Tay toward the blacktop.

“If you don't care who's on the team then why wouldn't you be partners with Lily at the Noble Woods?”

What are you doing!?
Quinn desperately tried to transmit a silent but urgent message into the space between Neally's ears.
The Mighty Quinn says ZIP IT, Neally
.

Matt glared at Quinn.

“Why are you looking at Quinn? My father is the one who told me you wouldn't work with Lily,” Neally lied. “What's your problem?”

“I don't have a problem. I like to choose, that's all.”

“So, you chose AnnaClaire?”

“No, I didn't choose AnnaClaire. Your dad did.”

“I still don't understand.” Neally hesitated, as if confused. “You say you like to choose, so why didn't you mind when you got another partner if you also didn't get to choose that partner?”

Matt cocked his head. He looks more intrigued than angry, Quinn thought. He's been challenged, and he knows it.

“Groups don't matter in class or sports. People can mix if they want. But when it's one-on-one ...” Matt
tugged at his ear. “It's natural, to want to be separate, with your own kind.”

“Your own
kind
?” Neally quickly transformed her snort into a cough. “That's interesting, Matt. Who told you that?”

“No one had to tell me, it's obvious. It's what God wants.”

Neally waved to Lily, who was approaching the field. “I'm not sure I understand. Your god wants us to be separate, but here we all are, together. Un-separate.”

“People are different because God made them that way. He wants us to be different. It says so in his word, his rules, he wants ...”

“
His
word?
His
rules? So, your god's a guy? You know, a man, a dude?”

“Well ... he's male ... yeah.” Matt looked puzzled.

“Oh. So, tell me,” Neally asked, in mock, wide-eyed sincerity, “does he shave?”

Quinn reached down and pretended to tie his shoelace. He knew if he made eye contact with Neally, it was all over.

“God could shave if he wanted to.” Matt shrugged his shoulders. “He can do anything he wants, but that's not the point. He wants us to do what
he
wants.”

Matt's eyes glazed over, and seemed to focus on a spot far across the schoolyard. His voice was vague and vacant, as if he were trying to recall a long-forgotten speech.

“It's important to be different, and stay different, like he made us. If we're all the same, then we're not different, and that's why we need to keep with our same kind, 'cause if we don't, eventually we'll end up ... like, a gray mess. It's all there, in God's word. My dad knows, and you could too.” Matt looked earnestly at Neally and Quinn. “You could understand, if you read God's word. If you read it
right
. Someone can help you go to church and understand about it.”

“Hey, I'll try anything,” Neally said. “Wait a sec, both of Lily's parents are pastors. I'll ask her if I can visit their church. I could get two helps at once.”

“That's not a good idea.” Matt bit his lip. “You can't just go anywhere—if something's important, you have to do it right. You have to find the right place to learn.”

“I get it.” The innocence faded from Neally's voice. “‘Right' for you means what someone else thinks
you
should think.” Neally yawned. “I think I'll pass on that.”