Pack of Dorks

by Beth Vrabel

“That girl is holding Mr. Stinky!” I gasped, pointing to a toddler trudging through the kitchen slurping on a juice box. I gasped again when she wiped her sticky, cheese curl-stained fingers all over Mr. Stinky.

  Mr. Stinky was once Mr. Teddy. That’s when my special blanket with the teddy bear head still had his eyes and ears. He also was yellow. Dad renamed him Mr. Stinky a few years ago when he began to look the way he does now—grayish brown and zombielike.

  Mr. Stinky doesn’t leave my bedroom anymore, but once I carried him everywhere under my arm like this kid was doing.

  One time, when I was four, we spent the night in a hotel at the beach, and I left Mr. Stinky under the pillow. Did I mention that the beach is six hours from home? More than an hour into the drive back, I realized Mr. Stinky was gone. I cried so hard when Dad said he wouldn’t go back for Mr. Stinky that I threw up. We went back.

  “What is that girl doing with Mr. Stinky?” I gasped again.

  “Oh,” said Mom, smile fading. “I must’ve forgotten to lock your bedroom door.”

  Another kid walked by wearing six—six!—of my headbands. They draped down his forehead like a mask. “Ha!” he said as he ran by, arms outstretched toward another kid who screamed. “Ha!”

  “Relax, Lucy,” Mom said. “It’s not like Mr. Stinky can’t hold up under strain.”

  The girl put her juice box to Mr. Stinky’s mouth (okay, the line of stitching where he once had a mouth). She squeezed. Purple juice splotched his face.

  “Mom!” I wailed.

  She sighed and wove through the cluster of kids to the girl with Mr. Stinky. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I need to take this guy back. Maybe you’d like to get a different toy?”

  The girl shook her head and squeezed my Mr. Stinky. Mom looked over at me. I glared as hard as I could. Mom sighed and gently pulled at Mr. Stinky.

  “Mine!” the girl squealed.

  I know it was dumb of me, but it was only then that I realized that all of the little kids had the same shaped eyes. Some of them wobbled a bit more than most kids. This little girl holding Mr. Stinky was probably Scrappy’s age, but she seemed a lot younger. All of these kids had Down syndrome. Like Molly.

  For a second, I felt something horrible and ugly twist inside, like my intestines had turned into snakes. I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out. They were so different. Molly was going to be like them and be this different, too. Those stares strangers gave Molly at the park—I realized I was looking at these kids the same way. Those stares would never go away. I scrunched my eyes shut because they were stinging again.

  Mom thought I was just almost crying because of stupid Mr. Stinky. She tugged again on the bear blanket and the little girl cried.

  “She can have him,” I muttered.

  Mom stared at me for a second and then handed Mr. Stinky back to the little girl, who smiled and hugged him tighter with her sticky fingers.

  “Only for the play date,” Mom assured me. “She won’t take Mr. Stinky home with her.”

  I nodded and drifted toward Molly in the living room. That other mom—the one who had made Mom laugh so hard—was still holding her propped up against her chest. In front of the mom, the little boy with my headbands danced. The mom laughed again. I could tell from the way she did it that she was used to laughing. That she did it all the time. The little boy moved faster in his dance and laughed with her. He fell into her arms and she caught him, shielding Molly but hugging him back, too.

  I walked over and held out my arms for my sister. Molly’s arms waved and feet kicked when she saw me, and she smiled. The mom handed her to me, and I held her against my chest. For once, Mom didn’t try to take her from me. She just sat down on the other side of the room. I felt her eyes on me, though.

  I sat down, holding Molly face out and resting her against my stomach so she could watch the other kids. Headband boy plopped next to me, practically on my lap. A little truck was in front of him, so I rolled it over to him. He smiled and rolled it back to me. Soon we were crashing the truck into our knees. Other little kids sat down around us, adding a ball, a doll, and Mr. Stinky to the mix.

  I thought I’d get bored in a second, but Molly’s arms and legs went nutso whenever one of the toys came near her. She was having fun. And so was I.

  The snakes stopped swirling in my stomach.

  That night, Mom knocked softly on my bedroom door. She threw Mr. Stinky on my bed. “Fresh from the spa,” she said. That’s what she called it when she managed to get him into the washing machine. I usually pitched a fit when she tried to wash him.

  I ran my fingers across the faint purple outline of juice across where his mouth once was. “Thanks.”

  Mom sat on my bed. “It was really nice of you to share Mr. Stinky with Ashley today,” she said.

  “Her name’s Ashley?”

  Mom nodded.

  “Will that club be coming around a lot?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mom answered. “I hope so. Would it be okay with you if they did?”

  I hugged Mr. Stinky to my chest and nodded. “I like those kids,” I said. “They seem happy.” I bit my lip, then let more words spill from my mouth. “I hope Molly is happy.”

  Mom ran her fingers through my bangs. “She is. And she will be. So long as she has people who love her as much as we do, she has no reason not to be happy.”

  “She’s not all that different from me, is she?” I said. “Not really, I mean.”

  “Sounds like you had an epiphany today.” Mom laughed at my crooked eyebrow got-no-idea-what-you’re-saying look. “It means you realized something important. You know what? I had the same epiphany.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Aaarrooo!” I howled as Sam walked down the hall to meet me outside gym class.

  “Woof,” he muttered, looking around first to make sure no one from our class was around.

  “Come on! Howl! We’re a pack now, remember?” I bumped him in the shoulder.

  “Do you think maybe you’re taking this wolf thing a little too far?” Sam said.

  I shrugged. The people streaming down the hall seemed to flow around us like we were an untouchable island. A lot of them stared at us and more than a few whispered loudly to each other as they passed. I didn’t know who they were talking about more. Me or Sam. Two girls walked slower than necessary by us, whispering and giggling meanly as they did.

  “Rouf!” I barked toward them like Sascha would.

  They rushed away.

  “What is wrong with you?” Sam stopped in place and stared at me.

  “Nothing,” I grinned. “I had a litany.”

  “You’re not making any sense. And you’re barking. Do you need to see the nurse?”

  “A litany! It means realizing something important,” I rolled my eyes at his lack of vocab and grabbed his arm so he would stop looking at all the people staring at us and just see me. “They see us as different. They’re always going to see us as different. So what? We can be different together.”

  “Do you have a fever? How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Three.” I stomped my foot. “Just listen, okay? We’re freaks in this school. There’s, like, no hope anymore. We’re always going to be the girl who split her skirt while yelling and the boy who hung from his underpants in the locker room.”

  “Shut up,” hissed Sam, his face a flaming tomato.

  “Who cares?” I hissed back. “For some stupid reason, they feel better when they make us feel worse. So have a litany with me. Let’s be different together. Let’s be however we want. Let’s be our own pack! I’ll be Sascha. You be Ralph!” I let out another howl. (Maybe it was a bit much to howl again at the end.)

  But I saw the corners of Sam’s mouth quiver and his dimple flash for a second. He looked at his shoes and nodded. “Why do I have to be Ralph?” he muttered.

  “Ralph is a noble name,” I grunted in a pretty good Aunt Shelley imitation.

  “Woof,” he barked.

  “Yo
u need to work on your bark or I’ll stick with being a lone wolf here.”

  Feeling bold, I linked my arm through his. “Off to face the alphas!” We walked arm in arm to Ms. Drake’s classroom.

  I’d like to say that the rest of the day was great. I want to tell you that Sam and I smiled in the faces of everyone who whispered about us. It’d be nice to say that I didn’t hear Becky’s giggles or Tom calling me dog girl. And I’d like to say that Sam didn’t duck his head whenever Henry walked past our desks, which was more than strictly necessary. (No one needs to visit the pencil sharpener six times an hour.)

  But what I can say is that whenever someone did these things, we had each other. Sam rolled his eyes when Becky giggled and barked when Tom called me dog girl. (Sam really needs to work on the barking. He sounds like a tortured cat.) When Sam ducked his head, I raised mine higher and glared at Henry.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” I said at our lunch table. “We present our wolf report in an hour, and then the day’s practically over.”

  Sam nodded and separated his animal crackers into herds. I ate the buffalos. It seemed the most wolfish thing to do. Maybe we are taking this wolf thing too seriously.

  Becky sauntered over to our table. She fluffed her perfect red curls and put her hand on her hip. Then she just stared at us. Sam glanced up at her and went back to his animal crackers. He mimed his lion animal cracker devouring his zebra, and I laughed, but not really.

  Becky made a coughing noise.

  Sam and I launched into an all-out zebra versus lion war. Animal cracker heads and limbs flew.

  Becky coughed again.

  Sam sighed and wiggled his eyebrows at me. I think that’s his who’s-going-to-ask-first look. I copied his sigh, then remembered that I was Sascha. I turned in my seat to face her and said, “What’s up, Becky?”

  She fluffed her curls again, glancing back at the “cool” table (I didn’t follow her look, but I was sure Tom and Henry were watching). “Since your dad called my mom and told her I had to stop calling you at home, I thought I should let you know a few things in person.”

  “My dad did what?” I felt my zebra crumble in my hand, but Becky didn’t stop her speech.

  “First, we are not best friends any more. Here or anywhere. Now or ever.”

  Sam wiggled his eyebrows again and we both burst out laughing. This time for real.

  “Sort of figured that, Becky,” I said in a hiccup.

  “Second, everyone in this entire school is making fun of you and your stupid little boyfriend.”

  Even though I was shaking and felt like I had to throw up, I leaned back in my chair. I stretched my legs out in front of me and draped my arms over the backrest. One of the wolf books from the library said when two wolves are about to fight, they each make themselves look as big as possible. I had seen Sascha do this while waiting to see if Ralph was a friend or enemy. I also remembered Miss Betsy saying martial artists always look their opponent in the eye. I knew I wasn’t going to fight Becky, not with my hands or anything. But taking up more room and staring into her mean little eyes made me feel stronger. So did having Sam beside me.

  “Sam and I are friends,” I said, shocked at how calm my voice stayed. “You remember what it’s like to have friends, don’t you?”

  Her overly glossy mouth fell open. “Seriously?” Becky crossed her arms and blinked at me a couple of times. She looked lost for a second. I think I wasn’t allowing her speech go as planned. “Everyone likes me,” she said. “I am by far the coolest girl in this school. Everyone wants to be my friend.”

  “Yeah,” Sam said. “But who actually is your friend?”

  Becky blinked a couple more times, her pale face blushing. I knew she hated blushing.

  “I’m not here to talk to you.” Her hands formed fists so hard her knuckles turned white. She glared at me. “You’re making a fool out of yourself with all of this dog stuff. Everyone is making fun of you.”

  “Prepare yourself for a shock,” I said. “But Tom and Henry aren’t everyone.” I heard Sheldon, who was sitting with April at the table behind us, snort. I suddenly realized that everyone around us had stopped eating and was listening.

  Becky breathed so hard from her nose that she looked like a bull. “I’m not just talking about them,” she snapped. “You guys are pathetic. Pathetic dorks. Forget dogs, okay? You can make a pack of dorks.”

  Sam and I smiled at each other. “We’re way ahead of you. That’s just what we were thinking,” I said. “But just to be clear, we actually like wolves, not dogs, Becky.”

  “But if people who liked dogs wanted to join in, I would let them,” Sam said.

  “Cats, too, I guess,” I joked, turning my back to Becky in the hope she’d just move on.

  “But not ducks. I hate ducks,” Sam said.

  “No one hates ducks. Ducks are adorable,” I said. “What’s wrong with ducks?”

  “I hate ducks,” said Amanda from the table beside Sheldon and April’s.

  Sam kicked out a chair for Amanda, and she walked over, slouching into it. I think she really did hate ducks. She smiled at me, a super small one. She should smile more often.

  Sheldon turned in his seat. “Hadrosaurids are duck ancestors. They were much cooler than ducks, though. They could run faster than a T-Rex. I like hadrosaurids.”

  “Great. Hardrosaurids lovers are in. Want to sit with us, Sheldon?” Sam said.

  “I like monkeys! Monkeys are cool!” April chirped.

  “There you have it. You’re in, too,” I said, pulling out a chair for her.

  Becky growled. The five of us laughed so hard we never heard her go back to her table. When the bell rang, she was sitting there with Tom and Henry, no one looking or talking to each other.

  “I feel sort of bad for them,” I whispered to my pack.

  Sam shrugged. April smoothed her skirt. She spent a lot of time running her hands along her skirt like she didn’t know what to do with her fingers now that she broke the nose-picking habit. Amanda’s angry eyes flicked from our table to Tom’s.

  “We could just, you know, ignore them,” Sheldon said.

  “Ignoring everything makes me mad,” Amanda snapped.

  “Everything makes you mad,” I pointed out. “Maybe you should work on that.”

  “They have their territory, we have ours,” Sam said.

  “Ever think you’re taking this wolf thing too far?” I asked him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sam and I presented our class report on wolves at the end of the day. Technically, our reports were due earlier in the week, but Ms. Drake gave us an extension so we had time to work in our sanctuary trip.

  For our diorama, Dad had helped me build a model of the sanctuary. I know it’s sort of stupid, but I got chills when I added a black wolf to the pack with the red one representing Sascha. For the presentation, Sam and I took turns reading pages from our report, and then we were opened it up for questions.

  Ms. Drake went first. “So, you’ve said wolves have a hierarchy. Which other social systems do you believe have an order, where there is a clear definition of who is in charge?”

  Sam and I answered at the same time. He said, “The government” just as I blurted, “Middle school.”

  The class laughed. Ms. Drake asked Sam to elaborate. He said about how the senate, congress, and president are the alphas and the people the pack members.

  When Ms. Drake turned to me, I added, “Our class has packs, too. There are some people who think they’re alphas. People who think they can act however they want or do whatever they want because, for some reason, they act powerful. But real alpha wolves take care of the rest of the pack. They aren’t just in charge in order to be cruel. Here, the kids who think they’re the most popular, or the coolest, they’re usually the biggest jerks.”

  Amanda whisper-shouted, “Yeah!” Sheldon nodded so hard his glasses slid down his nose. April twisted a tissue in her hands and glared at Becky. Ms. Drake’s eyes na
rrowed and her arms crossed, but she didn’t interrupt me.

  “How do wolves handle an alpha who isn’t doing a good job?” Ms. Drake asked.

  “They form a new pack,” Sam said.

  When the bell rang, my pack gathered around the monkey bars.

  “This might be the best day ever,” said Sam, a smile spreading across his face. “We aced our report. We stood up to Becky. We’re . . . we’re just awesome.”

  I laughed. “I know what you mean! If I could do a back flip, I’d totally do one right now.”

  “Sam can! He can do a back flip!” April piped up.

  And there, in front of everyone, Sam slipped off the monkey bars and did a flip in the grass. Amanda hooted, and Sheldon clapped. From the other side of the playground, Tom shouted, “Loser!”

  Henry leaned from the top of the playscape, cupped his hands over his mouth, and shouted, “Watch it, Monkey Boy! You might find yourself hung up again!”

  And just like that, Sheldon dropped down from the bars. He ripped off his jacket and growled so loud a vein in his neck popped. I’ve got to admit, the skinny kid looked freakishly strong. “Try it, numbskull! Just try it, and I’ll go T-Rex on your butt!”

  “Yeah,” Amanda cracked her knuckles. “No one messes with our pack.”

  April and I moved simultaneously to stand beside Sam, glaring full force at Tom and Henry. April brought her fists up and bent her knees like she was about to spar in karate. Sam put his hand on my shoulder and howled. It still sounded like a tortured cat, but only until the rest of joined in.

  Tom and Henry rolled their eyes, but they didn’t come any closer.

  When it was time to go back inside, I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Becky.

  “I think we said all there is to say at lunch,” I snapped.

  “Look, all right,” Becky stammered. “I was wrong. Tom and Henry are jerks. I thought Tom would want to be my boyfriend, but he told me I’m boring.” She blinked at me with big eyes, like she really thought I’d feel sorry for her.

  “And?” I said.