Friend Or Fiend?

by Blume, Judy

  Friend or Fiend?

  Friend or Fiend?

  Friend or Fiend?

  To Emma and Ben Valentine, my Tashmoo friends -J.B.

  To Josie, with love -J.S.

  Friend or Fiend?

  Acknowledgments

  With many thanks to Amy Adelson for sharing her memory of smushing an ice cream cone on her brother's forehead

  Friend or Fiend?

  Meet the Pain

  My sister's name is Abigail. I call her the Great One because she thinks she's so great. She says, “I don't think it, I know it!” When she says that I laugh like crazy. Then she gets mad. It's fun to make her mad. Who cares if she's in third grade and I'm just in first? That doesn't make her faster. Or stronger. Or even smarter. I don't get why Mom and Dad act like she's so special. Sometimes I think they love her more than me.

  Friend or Fiend?

  Meet the Great One

  My brother's name is Jacob but everyone calls him Jake. Everyone but me. I call him the Pain because that's what he is. He's a first-grade pain. And he will always be a pain--even if he lives to be a hundred. Even then, I'll be two years older than him. I'll still know more about everything. And I'll always know exactly what he's thinking. That's just the way it is. I don't get why Mom and Dad act like he's so special. Sometimes I think they love him more than me.

  Friend or Fiend?

  Ben Is My Fiend

  Today at school my teacher, Mary, called my group to the reading circle. Everyone else read at their tables or in the book corner. Mary said, “Justin, will you start?” When we go to the reading circle we read from a special book called People and Pets. Justin read a story about a dog named Goldie.

  Then Lila read about a cat called Sammy. Sammy the cat wasn't anything like my cat.

  “I could write a better story about Fluzzy,” I told Mary.

  Mary said, “I'd like to see that story, Jake.” Then she asked me to read. Just as I was about to start, another teacher came into our room and whispered something to Mary. “I have to step into the hall for a minute,” Mary told our group. “I'll be right back.” She looked at me. “Go ahead, Jake.”

  “The name of this story is Ben, ” I said. I cleared my throat twice. “Ben is my fiend.” Maggie laughed. I didn't know why. So I kept reading. “I'm glad he's my fiend because ...”

  Everyone but David laughed this time. Justin laughed so hard he fell off his chair. When he did, his chair toppled over too. That made everyone laugh harder.

  “What?” I said to my group.

  “Fiend?” Maggie said. “Ben is your fiend?”

  My group couldn't stop laughing. Even David laughed.

  Wendy, our helper teacher, came across

  the room. She sat in Mary's chair. “What's up?” she asked.

  “He thinks ...” Maggie started to say. “He thinks ...” But she was laughing so hard she couldn't finish.

  So Lila finished for her. “He thinks Ben is his fiend.”

  “What's a fiend?” David asked.

  I was wondering the same thing.

  “Justin, pick up your chair,” Wendy said. Then she looked at me. “Jake, do you know what a fiend is?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Can anyone help us?” Wendy asked. Justin didn't raise his hand. He just spit it out. “A fiend is a monster! A fiend is evil.”

  I felt my face turn hot. I felt really stupid.

  “Jake,” Wendy said. “Look at the picture of the two boys in the story.”

  The boys in the picture were laughing. They looked like friends. “Now . . . why don't you start reading again,” Wendy said.

  “Ben is my fiend,” I began. I meant to say friend. But fiend just slipped out.

  Now my group was out of control. “Let's settle down, please,” Wendy said. She printed both words on the board. “Jake, can you find the difference between friend and fiend!”

  I looked at both words. They looked almost the same. But one had an r and one didn't. So I said, “Oh, I get it! A fiend is a friend without the r.”

  Now my group went crazy. Wendy couldn't get them to stop. I wanted to disappear. I pictured myself walking out of class, down the hall, out the front door, and all the way home. Instead, I just sat there. When Maggie laughs it sounds like she's screaming.

  When David laughs he sounds like a seal. Justin holds his breath when he laughs. His face gets so red it looks like he's about to explode.

  The rest of the class was wondering what was going on. You could hear them whispering. Wendy clapped her hands. “Okay, that's enough! Maggie, take a turn reading, please.”

  “Where should I start?” Maggie asked when she finally calmed down.

  “Why don't you start at the beginning of the story,” Wendy said.

  Maggie took a big breath. Then she started to read. “Ben is my fiend. I'm glad he's my fiend because ...”

  But no one was listening. They were shrieking and stomping their feet. Lila held her stomach. “It hurts . . .” she cried. “It hurts to laugh so hard!”

  Wendy said, “Maggie ... the word is friend!” You could tell from her voice that she'd had enough.

  “I know!” Maggie said.

  “Then why did you say fiend?” Wendy asked.

  “I didn't mean to....”

  That's when Mary came back into the room. “Everything okay?” she asked Wendy, looking at us. Mary always knows when something is going on.

  “Just a little mix-up,” Wendy explained, giving Mary back her chair.

  Later, on the playground, my class made a circle like when we were in kindergarten. But instead of “Duck, duck, goose,” Lila called, “Friend, friend, fiend!” She tapped me for fiend. I had to run around the circle trying to catch her. It didn't feel good. It didn't feel funny. Then everyone did it. Even Justin. And he's supposed to be my best friend. That was the worst.

  At dinner, the Great One looked at me and said, “What's wrong?”

  “Who says any thing's wrong?” “I can tell.”

  Mom said, “Is something wrong, Jake?” “I made a mistake in reading group.” I pushed my pasta around on my plate.

  “Everyone makes mistakes,” Mom said. “Not this mistake.”

  “I'm sure it wasn't that bad,” Dad said.

  “Oh, yes it was!” I told him.

  Mom, Dad, and the Great One waited for me to tell them more. But I didn't. The Great One started guessing. “Did you say a bad word? Is that it?”

  “No.”

  “Did you leave out a word?” “No.”

  “Did you mix up two words?” “Maybe,” I said. How did she know that was it? “Everyone does that,” she said. “It's no big deal.” But it was a big deal to me.

  The next day at school when Maggie saw me she said, “Hi, fiend!” Everyone laughed.

  On the playground I didn't play any games. I climbed to the top of the monkey bars and stayed there.

  “Help . . . fiend!” Victor called, pointing to me.

  Everyone laughed again.

  The next day at morning meeting, Mary asked if I could give the weather report. I shook my head even though I knew the weather. So Justin got to be weather reporter instead. And Dylan got to ask the riddle of the day. “When is it dangerous to play cards?”

  I knew the answer, but I wouldn't raise my hand. I was never raising my hand again. So Mary called on Marco. He said, “When the joker is wild.”

  Everyone clapped for Dylan's riddle and Marco's answer.

  Later, Mary sat next to me during reading time. She said, “What are you reading, Jake?”

  I showed her the book. Reptiles Around the World.

  “You want to read just to me?” she asked. I shook my head.

  “You want to keep reading to yoursel
f?” I nodded. “Okay,” Mary said.

  I didn't tell her I was never reading out loud again.

  On the school bus going home I sat next to Justin. But I didn't talk. I faced away from him and looked out the window. So Justin joked around with Dylan, who sat behind him. When we got off the bus Justin said, “Guess what I'm going to be for Halloween?” “What?” I said.

  “A fiend). Isn't that the best idea?”

  I didn't answer. I ran the rest of the way home. I could hear Justin calling, “Jake-- wait for me! Jake--” But I didn't wait.

  At home, I got a big piece of paper and wrote:

  That night, when Mom finished reading to me, I said, “Justin's going to be a fiend for Halloween.”

  “What are you going to be?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I'm not going trick-or-treating.”

  Mom looked at me. “Okay, but if you change your mind I'll help with your costume.”

  “I'm not wearing a costume.” Mom kissed me good night. When she was gone, I got out of bed and tiptoed to my

  closet. I reached up and grabbed my Wolfman mask. Grandma bought it for me over the summer. It's pretty scary. I pulled it on. “What do you think, Fluzzy? Do I look like a fiend?” Fluzzy yawned. What does he care about fiends? Then I yanked off the mask and got back into bed. Bruno was waiting for me. Bruno is my best friend now.

  On Halloween night the Great One danced into the living room. She was wearing a tutu, cowboy boots, and a red wig. She carried a

  magnifying glass. “How do you like it?” she asked.

  “What are you sup- posed to be?” “You can't tell?”

  I didn't answer She sighed. "I

  guess you're just not old enough to know."

  “Know what?”

  “Spy Dancer.”

  “Who's Spy Dancer?”

  “Never mind!”

  She turned and twirled to the front door. She was going trick-or-treating with her friends. "We could go trick-or-

  treating too," Dad said to me.

  “I'm not going trick-or-treating.” I put on my Wolfman mask, and every time the

  bell rang I opened the door. A couple of little kids screamed when they saw me. One girl said, “What are you supposed to be?”

  “A fiend,” I told her.

  “What's a fiend?”

  “It's the opposite of a friend.”

  “Oh,” she said, reaching into the candy bowl. She helped herself to three mini-boxes of raisins. At least I think that's what they were. It's not that easy to see when you're wearing a Wolfman mask.

  The next time the bell rang it was Justin. I saw his dad waiting for him on the sidewalk. He was wearing a monster mask, but I recognized him anyway. Last year we went trick-or-treating together.

  “Are you supposed to be what I think you're supposed to be?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I told him. And I growled. He growled too and took a handful of candy from the bowl.

  Then we just stood there looking at each other through the eye holes in our monster masks. Finally, Justin said, “I have an idea.”

  I said, “Me too.”

  “You go first,” Justin said.

  “No, you go first.”

  “Okay,” Justin said. “Remember last year when we went trick-or-treating together?” I nodded.

  “We could do that again.”

  I pretended to think it over. Then I said, “Deal.” I found Dad and told him I'd changed my mind. I was going trick-or-treating after all. Dad helped me into my jacket and gave me a loot bag.

  “Ready?” Justin asked when I came back. “Ready,” I said.

  We jumped off the porch and ran down the street together.

  Later, when I got home, I ate two Crunch bars from my loot bag. Then I added an r to the sign that said Justin is a fiend!

  Friend or Fiend?

  Useless

  We're going to Uncle Phil's apartment in New York. You have to drive through a tunnel to get there. Either that or drive over a bridge. But the tunnel is faster for us. The Pain doesn't like tunnels. “Tell me when . . .” he kept saying to Mom.

  As we came up to the entrance of the tunnel, Mom said, “Okay . . . now.”

  And the Pain slid to the floor of the

  backseat of our car. He covered his eyes with his hands. “Tell me when we're out. ...”

  “You are beyond hopeless,” I told him.

  “Abigail. . .” Mom warned.

  “It's just a road,” I argued.

  “An underwater road,” the Pain said from the floor.

  “And he's not in his seat belt,” I added.

  “Thank you, Abigail,” Mom said.

  “Thank you for what?” I asked.

  I could hear Mom sigh.

  “You better not get carsick while you're down there,” I said to the Pain.

  “I'm not carsick,” the Pain said.

  “Because puking in the car isn't allowed,” I told him.

  “Abigail.. .” Mom said. “Stop talking about it or you'll make him sick.”

  “Me? Make him carsick? Why would I want to do that?”

  “That's enough, Abigail,” Mom said.

  As we came out of the tunnel, Mom called to the Pain. “All clear!” And the Pain

  sat in his seat again and fastened his seat belt.

  “Invisible line,” I reminded him. Invisible line is how we divide the backseat of the car.

  I have my side and he has his. But he gave me a kick anyway.

  So I gave him one back.

  “Children,” Mom said. “Dad can't concentrate on the road when you're acting up.”

  We got to Uncle Phil's apartment in time for lunch. But there was no sign of food. Our cousins William and Sierra were there. William is twelve and Sierra is fifteen. Last time we saw them was before Uncle Phil got divorced and moved to New York. When Mom asked if she could help get lunch ready, Uncle Phil looked surprised. He tore off the top of a paper bag and scribbled a shopping list on it. Then he gave Sierra some money and told her and William to go to the big deli on the corner.

  William pointed at the Pain and me. “What are they . . . useless?”

  Before I could say anything, before I could tell him Useless is as useless does or something like that, Sierra laughed. “Yeah,” she said. “They can help us carry everything home.”

  I didn't want to go anywhere with William and Sierra.

  “Jake and Abigail don't know their way around New York,” Mom said.

  [Image: Jake and Abigail]

  “You think we do?” Sierra said. “This is the first time we're visiting our dad since he moved here.”

  “Why don't I come with you?” Mom said.

  “If you re going, you don't need William and me,” Sierra said to Mom. “Besides, I have a lot to do.”

  “Like what?” William asked.

  “None of your business,” Sierra told him.

  “None of your business ” William sang, mocking his sister.

  Sierra looked like she wanted to slug him.

  The Pain looked at me. I knew what he was thinking--William and Sierra are worse than us. Much worse.

  “You kids are going,” Uncle Phil told William and Sierra, “and that's that!”

  “Fine,” Sierra said. And she grabbed the list out of Uncle Phil's hand.

  Mom said, “Abigail and Jake will come with us. That will give Uncle Phil and Dad some time alone.”

  Why would Dad want to be alone with Uncle Phil? I wondered. Uncle Phil isn't a fun uncle. He's nothing like Uncle Mitch. Uncle Mitch taught me to ride my bike. I don't think Uncle Phil likes kids. I'm not

  sure he likes anyone, not even William and Sierra. He and Dad are complete opposites. I don't see how they can be brothers.

  The deli was huge. It took up a whole block. It was busy, too. There were lines everywhere. Mom took charge. “William, get on the bread line.” “Do I have to?”

  “Yes,” Mom said, “if you ever want to have lunch.” Then
she told Sierra to get a number and wait on line at the deli meats counter.

  “No way,” Sierra said. “I'm a veggie. I don't go near that stuff.”

  “Okay . . .” Mom said. “You can pick up the cheese and the rest of what's on the list. I'll wait on line here.”

  “She has to help me,” Sierra said, pointing at me.

  “My name is Abigail,” I told her.

  “Whatever,” Sierra said.

  Sierra used to be nice. One time when I was little we baked cupcakes together.

  I followed her through the deli. “I hate this city,” she said, loud enough for anyone to hear. A couple of people turned to look at her. “You can't ride your horse or anything.”

  “You have a horse?” I asked.

  Sierra said, “We have six horses. You probably don't know, but we moved to Montana with our mom. You probably don't even know where Montana is.”

  “Yes, I do,” I told her. I tried to picture the map of the states on the wall in my classroom. Montana . . . Montana . . . which state was Montana?

  “It's out west,” Sierra told me.

  “I know that,” I said.

  “I ride my horse to school.”

  “That sounds so cool.”

  “You know what's not cool?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “You and your family. And that includes my dad.”

  “That's rude,” I told her.

  She laughed and shoved the list in my face. “Get this stuff. I've got to text my boyfriend.” She pushed a basket at me, then took off.

  I didn't know what to get. I mean, I could read the list, but there were about fifty kinds

  of mustard. I threw in the one with the fanciest label. Next on the list was olive oil. There were rows and rows of olive oil. I chose the one in the prettiest bottle. But

  what kind of cheese was I supposed to get? I stood in front of the cheese counter. There were so many! A hundred, at least. I didn't recognize any of the names.

  “Do you need some help?” a woman asked.

  “I need cheese,” I told her. “What kind?”