Funny Kid #3

by Matt Stanton

  If I just sit down next to Pip, then that’s going to draw a lot of unwanted attention (if you’ve forgotten why, please go back and reread Chapter 1). The way to get around that issue is to wait until there aren’t too many seats left, so it’s like I just happened to sit in the empty seat next to Pip, because there weren’t too many options. However, there is way too much risk in that scenario. For a start, Abby and Pip are friends, so Abby will probably sit next to her. If Abby doesn’t, Tyson might sit next to Pip, or some other random kid. This is not the time to leave things to chance.

  Instead the correct strategy is actually for me to get on first. This is a scenario I can control, because I can make sure no one sits next to me. Then if Pip gets on toward the end of the line, I will have one of the few seats left.

  So I push my way through to the front of the line.

  “Hey!”

  “Max!”

  “Don’t push in!”

  “Did you just quack? I swear someone just quacked.”

  The door opens and I climb onto the bus, taking a seat about halfway down. I look out the window. Pip is toward the back of the line. Perfect.

  “Hey, Max, what are we going to call your book?” I look up and see Hugo taking his backpack off to sit down next to me.

  I put my backpack on the seat next to me. It quacks uncomfortably.

  “Why not?” Hugo asks, confused.

  “Ah . . .” Quick. I need a reason. “Because you have to . . . sit behind me. If you sit behind me, then we can both have a window seat. Then I can turn around and we can work on my book while we look out the window. You know, for inspiration.”

  “O-kay,” Hugo says slowly, like he thinks I’ve lost my mind. He takes the seat behind me.

  The bus starts to fill up, and I keep my bag on the seat and avoid looking anyone in the eye.

  Finally Abby, Pip, and Tyson get on. When Abby reaches me, she looks at my backpack sitting on the seat and raises one eyebrow. It doesn’t matter how many times she does that, it still gives me the creeps!

  Oh, no. I don’t want Abby to sit next to me! That’s not how this is supposed to go. That’s the worst-case scenario!

  “Why don’t you sit next to Hugo?” I ask.

  “Why don’t you sit next to Hugo?” Abby says. “He’s your friend.”

  “No,” Hugo butts in, because he knows the answer to this one. “I have to sit behind Max so we can work on his book while we’re looking out the window for inspiration.”

  “Idiots,” Abby mumbles, and sits across the aisle from Hugo, next to Layla.

  Phew! That was close. Pip’s next. Here we go. My plan has worked perfectly.

  I move my backpack onto the floor at my feet. It quacks again. Pip smiles.

  “Oh . . . sure, if you want,” I reply. Only she wasn’t talking to me.

  “Sure you can!” Hugo says.

  WHAT?

  Pip sits down next to Hugo.

  And Tyson sits down next to me.

  Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!

  Well, isn’t this great. Just great.

  I’m stuck with the last person in the universe I want to be sitting next to. (And yes, that means I would have preferred Abby Purcell, so that’s saying something!)

  I’m drinking from my water bottle, not because I’m thirsty but because I’m trying to distract myself from just how terrible this plan has turned out.

  Tyson has spread his legs out wide, which means I’m squashed against the window. Whatever happens, you do not want to touch legs with the person next to you!

  Everyone knows you need to keep a nice little air barrier between your thigh and the thigh next to you, but to achieve that you have to work together. I don’t know what things were like at Tyson’s old school, but he doesn’t seem to understand this whole teamwork thing very well.

  I keep drinking.

  “You thirsty there, buddy?” Tyson asks. “You really do like water, don’t you?”

  “Shut up,” I grunt.

  Hugo taps me on the shoulder. I ignore him. He keeps tapping. Then he leans his head between Tyson and me.

  “What book?” Tyson asks.

  “I’m writing a book,” Hugo replies.

  “Are you really? That’s amazing,” Pip says. “What’s it about?”

  “It’s about Max.”

  Abby leans across the aisle. “You’re really writing a book about Max? But why? His life is so boring. You’d be better off writing a book about Pip and Tyson – their life is much more interesting.”

  “What do you mean?” Hugo asks.

  “Pip and Tyson are adopted, and their new dad is, like, a really famous actor, and so now they’re super rich and can have anything they want.”

  “He’s not that famous,” Pip says.

  “Yes, he is,” Tyson says. “He’s going to be in a Christmas movie with Justin Bieber.”

  I keep drinking my water and pretend not to be listening. We’ve left Redhill behind now and are traveling along the highway under a big blue sky.

  “Max is really famous too!” Hugo says. “Max, are we going to work on your biography now?”

  “Maybe we can help?” Pip asks.

  That gets me turning around in my seat, accidentally kicking my backpack as I do. Quack.

  “What keeps quacking?” Kevin calls out from the front of the bus. That kid has really good hearing.

  As I shuffle around onto my knees, I realize I better stop drinking. I’m starting to need to pee and it’s not like there’s a toilet on this bus.

  “I didn’t realize you were famous, Max,” Pip says.

  “Oh, I’m not that famous,” I say, waving my hand like a really famous person would.

  “He’s really not,” Abby adds.

  “People call him the funny kid,” Hugo says.

  “I like to make people laugh.” I shrug.

  “I like laughing,” Pip says. “Is the book going to be funny, Hugo?”

  “Hilarious,” Hugo replies.

  Ooh. I really do need to go to the bathroom. I squirm a bit to try to un-squash my bladder. Maybe if I can give it a little more room, it won’t feel like it needs to push all that pee out. Be patient, bladder. Now is not a good time. (What? You don’t talk to your bladder?)

  Tyson gives me a funny look.

  “I just need to come up with a title,” Hugo says. “Do you have any ideas?”

  “Me?” Pip says. “Oh, I don’t know. Um . . .”

  “What about Living with a Big Head: The Life of Max Walburt?” Abby suggests.

  Everyone laughs at that. I glare at Abby. Polite laughs are cheap laughs. That wasn’t even funny.

  Hugo continues. “I was trying to think of something to do with jumping puddles or using a metaphor to do with water, after what happened yesterday. I feel like that’s a good symbol for what the book could be about.”

  “How about Wet Walburt and Other Soggy Jokes?” Abby says.

  Again everyone laughs. I’m trying to think of a good comeback, because heaven knows we could all do with an actual joke right about now, but to be honest, I’m incredibly distracted by my bladder. It wasn’t so bad until I turned around. I squirm a bit more, and Tyson looks at me and chuckles.

  “How about Needing to Pee: Adventures of the Funny Kid?” he suggests.

  Oh, no! I thought I was hiding it really well.

  “I don’t get it,” Hugo says.

  Tyson turns to me. “You need to pee, don’t you, Max?”

  “What? No! Of course not.”

  Abby grins. “Are you sure?” she asks. “You look a little uncomfortable there.”

  “You were drinking quite a lot of water before,” Pip chimes in.

  “I’m fine!” I say. “Thank you, everyone, for your concern.”

  Then we go over a bump on the road.

  Aarrgghhh! I think a bit of pee just came out! I look down at my pants in horror and everyone watches me do it.

  “You do need to pee!” Tyson says.

  “I
said I’m fine!” I turn back around and sit properly, kicking the backpack again. Quack.

  “Seriously! Who keeps quacking?” Kevin asks. Those ears. Amazing.

  I just need to focus. That’s all I need to do. Focus on not peeing, ignore what everyone says, and just stay focused.

  “Drip.”

  What was that?

  It’s Tyson, softly making a dripping water sound right next to me. “Drip.”

  I can hear giggling. Then I hear Abby whispering, “Ssssshhhhhhh,” like a faucet running with water. More giggling.

  Pip has caught on and is adding her sounds. All these water noises are making it very . . . hard to . . . hold . . . on. I can’t believe they’re doing this! And Hugo too!

  The kids around us are laughing.

  “Stop it! Just stop it!” I yell.

  “What’s going on back there?” Miss Sweet calls out, and everyone stops.

  I take a deep breath. Thanks, Miss Sweet, my bladder is about to explo–

  “Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream,” Tyson starts singing.

  AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!

  The whole bus is laughing now.

  Pip leans forward. “You really are very funny, Max.” Then she sits back and joins everyone in singing the tune.

  We stop at a gas station on the way to our campsite, and I’m so busting I run across the parking lot and into the toilet cubicle without even taking off my backpack. The feeling of finally being able to piddle when you’ve been about to pop has to be one of the best feelings in the whole world.

  Quack.

  Now that the pee is out, it’s like my brain is free to start working again and I remember – oh, that’s right – Duck’s still inside my backpack.

  I reach down and undo the zipper so Duck can stretch his wings.

  He seems a little cranky with me as he flaps out of the backpack and onto the toilet floor. (Ew, in bare feet too.) Duck may believe I am his mommy, but that doesn’t stop him from being annoyed at me for keeping him zipped inside a backpack for the last hour. He does a little shake.

  Someone knocks on the door. “Come on, Max! Other people need to go too.”

  Oh, really? Maybe I should just sit here and sing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” from the comfort of this incredibly relaxing toilet seat.

  “What am I going to do, Duck?” I ask my little feathered friend. “This Tyson kid is becoming a problem.”

  Duck nods and then realizes there’s a piece of old toilet paper stuck to his foot.

  “He seems to be pretty good at pranks and for some reason, he’s decided I’m the one he wants to be pranking. Famous people aren’t supposed to get pranked!”

  Duck is only half listening to me. He’s trying to scrape the toilet paper off his foot.

  “Careful, Duck. Who knows what that toilet paper was used for before it was dropped on the floor?”

  Duck looks up at me and tilts his head to the side as if to say, “We’re in a toilet, dingle-splat. What do you think it was used for?”

  “Hey, Max! Come on! We’re waiting!” someone calls from outside.

  I’ll take my sweet time, thank you very much. That’ll teach you all to try to make me pee on the bus.

  “I thought the best way to impress Pip was to just ignore Tyson, but I think I was wrong. The only way to stop Tyson from ruining my reputation is to prank him back,” I tell Duck as I flush the toilet.

  “Oh, finally!” someone outside exclaims.

  I wash my hands and turn to Duck.

  I nod at the backpack. “You need to get back in.”

  Duck puts his wings on his hips.

  “Come on, Duck. You have to. If Miss Sweet sees you, she’ll leave you on the side of the road.”

  Duck blows a raspberry and his little shoulders sink. He knows I’m right. Then he reaches down and pulls the toilet paper off his foot with his beak! Ew, gross! It’s a public toilet, dude!

  I open the toilet door with the confidence of an action hero heading into battle. Kevin pushes straight by me, leaving his backpack on the ground outside.

  There are two bathrooms and all the kids in our class are lined up, waiting to go. I watch Tyson laughing with Pip and Abby, and I wait for my time.

  “Are you ready for this, Duck?” I whisper over my shoulder. “We’re going to have to move very fast.”

  After a while, Kevin comes out and Tyson goes in, throwing his backpack against the wall of the toilet block just like Kevin did.

  “Go-go-go!” I whisper . . . to myself.

  I run past the other kids and slide across the gravel to Tyson’s backpack.

  I unzip it and quickly start pulling out all his stuff and putting it on the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Hugo asks.

  “You’ll see!” I say, removing a lunch box, a drink bottle, a sweater, a stuffed rabbit.

  “Why are you taking all the things out of Tyson’s backpack?” Ryan asks.

  “It’s okay,” I reply with a grin. “I’m about to put it all back in.”

  I take the now-empty backpack and shake it upside down. A couple of candy wrappers and a banana peel fall out.

  “Max?” It’s Pip. “What are you doing to my brother’s backpack?”

  “Oh, just a harmless little joke. Don’t worry. He’ll love it,” I say.

  Actually, I don’t think he will love it. But hopefully everyone else will.

  Now that the backpack is completely empty, I put my hand in and pull the whole backpack inside out. It takes half a minute to fold in the straps and make sure the edges are right, but in the end it still looks like a backpack, only now all the stitching is on the outside and the straps are on the inside.

  Most importantly, so is the zipper.

  I hear the toilet flush. Quick! He better wash his hands, because I still need about thirty seconds.

  I take all of Tyson’s things and shove them into the inside-out backpack. Pip realizes what I’ve done and starts to giggle. The others laugh too.

  “I told you I’d put everything back,” I say.

  Now for the final step. I reach my hand inside the backpack and find the little zipper tag. It’s simple to grab while the backpack is open. I pull it across, doing up the zipper from the inside.

  Closing the backpack is easy. What is almost impossible is opening it again when the zipper is on the inside.

  I finish just as the toilet door opens. I leap up, throwing the bag exactly where Tyson had left it and blending back into the crowd of kids. There’s lots of giggling as everyone waits to see what will happen.

  Tyson steps out of the toilet and seems somewhat surprised to find most of his class standing there, looking at him with big grins on their faces.

  The cool thing to do here, I realize, is to slip away as though I don’t even need to see his reaction. That’s what a famous kid would do. I look toward the bus and see Mr. Bert filling the tank with gas. Miss Sweet is standing with Abby in front of a big map of the national park near the road.

  I head on over, but on the way, I hear a very clear, “What’s up with my backpack? Who did this? How am I supposed to get it open?” followed by massive laughing.

  I grin to myself and whisper to Duck:

  Miss Sweet wants everyone to look at the big map before getting back on the bus. We might all be standing around, but most people are much more interested in watching Tyson try to open his backpack.

  “Stupid thing!” he’s muttering.

  “Tyson, shh,” Miss Sweet says. “Everyone, this is the map of the national park where we will be camping for the next two nights.”

  “How . . . on earth did you . . . even . . .” Tyson grunts. The class giggles.

  Miss Sweet ignores him and points to a big star on the map.

  I look over at Tyson. He’s squeezed his fingers inside his backpack, through the little hole where the zipper finishes, but to open it up, he’s got to grab the tiny zipper tag inside the bag and push it away from himself. If you’
ve ever tried to push a zipper instead of pulling it, you’ll know it’s almost impossible.

  He notices me and I try to raise my eyebrows as if to say, “That’ll teach you to mess with the funny kid,” but instead I accidentally wink at him. He looks very confused. Stupid eyebrows.

  “Abby, you look worried,” Miss Sweet says.

  “I’m fine,” Abby replies.

  “Are you thinking about the dragons again?” Pip asks. Abby nods. Pip turns back to the rest of us. “Last night Abby was showing me on the internet that the most recent sightings of Gunker Dragons have been in Lake Quiet National Park.”

  “People do say they’re supposed to be extinct . . .” Abby says softly.

  “There you go, see? They all died a long time ago.” Miss Sweet smiles reassuringly.

  “. . . but then there have been sightings recently. No one knows for sure,” Abby finishes.

  Pip pulls a phone out of her pocket and holds it up. “I brought this so I can take photos if we see a dragon. You know, for proof!”

  Miss Sweet shakes her head. “Pip, you can’t bring a phone camping. It’s against school rules.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Sweet. I didn’t know,” Pip says. “It doesn’t make calls. It’s just for taking photos and videos. My dad gave it to me because he knows how much I love nature and he likes it when I take photos. He says I have ‘an eye,’ whatever that means. I was just thinking that Lake Quiet is going to be so beautiful, so I want to be able to capture it. Can I keep it? Please?”

  Miss Sweet sighs and then nods. “Okay, kids, back on the bus!”

  I turn to Abby and Pip. “Don’t worry, girls. Everyone knows dragons aren’t real.”

  Abby glares at me. “Do you ever read history books, Max?”

  “Ugh. Why would I do that?”

  “What about horror stories? Do you like those?” she asks.

  “Totally! Horror stories are awesome,” I reply. I have no idea where she’s going with this.