Bases Loaded

by Mike Knudson

  “Thank you very much,” Graham replied, giving a big thumbs-up sign to the class without realizing they were probably laughing at him. He walked happily to his desk, giving a little wink to Kelly as he passed by. I walked to my desk and sat down.

  David’s desk was back by mine again. “That’s a pretty shirt, Raymond,” David said, trying to talk in a girl’s voice. “You know I would punch you, but I don’t hit girls.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said. I looked around the room. Everyone was either staring at Graham and his new wavy hairdo or looking at me. There was only one person who wasn’t laughing : Lizzy. She just had a mad look on her face and was glaring at me.

  I looked at her, wondering what her problem was. Then I noticed her shirt. It was light blue and looked kind of familiar. Oh my gosh! I suddenly screamed in my brain. I’m wearing the same shirt as LIZZY! I’M WEARING A GIRL’S SHIRT! I couldn’t believe it. How could they sell me a girl’s shirt? That just seems wrong. I’ll bet that’s where that store lady went to find the shirt—the girls’ department!

  This is just great! I thought. Last year I had a lousy haircut, and this year I’m dressed like a girl! Why didn’t my mom tell me it was a girl’s shirt? Surely she must have known. I mean, she’s a girl. Anyway, it was too late to change shirts. Mrs. Gibson had just started lining us up to walk down to the lunchroom where they would take our pictures.

  I looked closer at Lizzy. She was wearing a white skirt and a hair bow that matched her shirt—I mean, my shirt. The whole outfit actually looked good on Lizzy. I looked down at my own outfit, and it seemed to look stranger and stranger the longer I looked.

  I walked back by Graham. “Man, did you see what Lizzy is wearing?” I asked. “Did you think I was wearing a girl’s shirt when you saw me this morning?”

  “Well, kind of,” Graham said. “But you looked so happy that I didn’t want to make you feel bad. If I knew Lizzy would be wearing the same shirt, I would’ve definitely told you. But how could I know you and Lizzy would have the same fashion taste?”

  We walked down the hall in single file to the multipurpose room. It was the usual school picture scene: most of the lights off; some big, silver, umbrella-like things on one side of the room; and the risers with the big blue backdrop. Mrs. Gibson lined us up by height. The tallest were directed to the top of the risers. I was in that group, along with David, Diane, Lizzy, and Zach. The medium-size kids were on the next level, and the shortest were in the front. That was Graham, Suzy, Brad, and a couple of other shorties.

  The photographer stood back for a better look. “Okay, let’s move this young lady in the front over here.” He was talking about Suzy. She quickly moved over by Graham.

  He stood back again and squinted. “Hmm, let’s see. Back row, let’s scoot in a little closer. And would you in the blue shirt switch places with the young man on the end?”

  I stepped forward and tried to squeeze past Diane to get to the end.

  “Wait,” the photographer interrupted. “Not you. I meant this young lady in the blue shirt.” I was even confusing myself with Lizzy in this shirt.

  Finally we were all in the right spots, and the photographer took about five pictures. Then we lined up for the individual photos. David was first. He stood there with a scowl on his face. The photographer tried to make him laugh and told him to say cheese and pizza and a bunch of other things, but his face never budged. Finally, the guy gave up and just took the picture with David’s grumpy look.

  I stood by Graham and Heidi waiting for our turns. Graham asked me if his hair was still okay or if it had gotten messed up. Heidi and I looked at it and then looked at each other. We both smiled, and I could tell she was thinking the same thing I was.

  “Well, I’m not exactly sure how it’s supposed to look. But it’s still all wavy and stiff,” I said. I touched the top of his hair. It was hard as a rock.

  “Perfect,” Graham said. “These pictures are going to be great.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Except for the fact that Lizzy and I are twins today.”

  “No, you’re not,” Heidi said. “You’re not twins at all.”

  “Thanks,” I answered. That made me feel a little better.

  “ ’Cause she’s wearing a matching bow,” Heidi said, chuckling. “I’m just kidding, your shirt looks fine. Hey, Diane, Raymond’s shirt doesn’t look like a girl’s shirt, does it?”

  Diane walked over. “No, it absolutely looks like a boy’s shirt,” she said. “But do you think I can borrow it tomorrow?” She and Heidi both busted up. Then Graham followed. I stood there feeling sorry for myself for a moment, but then something came over me and I started laughing. If Heidi and Diane could laugh at my shirt, why couldn’t I? It actually cheered me up.

  Just then Lizzy walked by. “What’s so funny?” she said in her snooty voice.

  “Nothing, except that I’m wearing your shirt,” I said between laughs. Lizzy flipped her curls and stormed away.

  By the time it was my turn to get my picture taken, I was still smiling from my girl shirt and didn’t even have to say cheese.

  6

  The Substitute

  WE HAD ANOTHER baseball game on Saturday. My mom washed my baseball pants twice trying to get all the stains out. Fortunately, all of the Gatorade came off, but the gum spot and nacho cheese stains were still there. The game was great—we killed the Cubs. I pitched most of the game and got two hits, and Graham even hit a home run. Finally, a win. But we would need a lot more wins if there was going to be any chance of saving this season. Not only did my family behave this time, but after the game my dad took me and Graham to get ice cream. It was a perfect day.

  On the way home, Graham and I sat in the backseat talking about how much fun we were going to have with the substitute the next week. We talked quietly so my dad wouldn’t hear us.

  “Hey, what are you two whispering about back there? Must be talking about girls,” Dad said, smiling at us in the rearview mirror.

  “Nope. Just secret stuff,” Graham said. “We can’t tell you or we’d have to kill you.”

  This week was going to be hilarious. I wondered if we could all really get away with trading places with each other for an entire week. And if we’d really be able to have a party on Friday. I was feeling sorry for the substitute already. But I figured that since we weren’t going to do anything mean, it would be okay.

  “So are you still trading places with Brian?” I asked Graham when we were back at my house, hanging out in my room.

  “Nope. At first I traded with him so I could sit next to Kelly,” Graham said. “But then I found out that Kelly was trading with Diane. So I switched again with Brad, who sits next to Diane. It was kind of confusing, but I think it’s going to work out.”

  “Well, I traded with Luke,” I said, “so you can just call me Luke the Puke for the next week.” Luke moved to our school in the fall, and when he introduced himself to the class, he turned kind of greenish and threw up all over the floor. So unfortunately for him, he got stuck with the nickname Luke the Puke.

  Monday couldn’t come soon enough. I was so excited I couldn’t even sleep the night before. And on top of it all, on Sunday night Mom said she had a fun surprise for me. She wouldn’t tell me what it was yet. When Monday morning finally came, I jumped out of bed, ate breakfast, brushed my teeth, and ran out the door. “Bye, Mom,” I said as I slammed the door.

  “Bye, sweetie,” I heard her call back from the kitchen. I ran all the way to Graham’s house. He was already out in his driveway waiting for me.

  “This is it, hermano,” I said. “Are you ready?”

  “You know it,” Graham said, nodding his head. His red, curly hair was bouncing all over the place. Luckily, he had finally run out of gel. “This week will go down in history as the greatest week ever at East Millcreek Elementary School.”

  We spent the whole walk to school talking like the people we were trading desks with. Graham tried to make his hair stand up an
d talked in his best Brad Shaw voice. I introduced myself as Luke and pretended to throw up all over Graham. I thought our acting was really good.

  We finally made it to school and walked into our classroom. Everyone was at different desks around the room. Like us, they were all excited about our prank. People were laughing and joking around with each other. The only problem was that school was about to start and there was still no substitute. There was no Mrs. Gibson either. When the bell finally rang, everyone sat down and just looked at each other. Then the principal, Mr. Worley, walked in.

  “Hello, boys and girls,” he said in his big, loud voice. “I know Mrs. Gibson told you she would be away for the next week.” We all looked at Mr. Worley, afraid that he was going to be our substitute for the week. That would be terrible. It would be nonstop stories of his army days. I thought we might literally die of boredom from an entire week of Mr. Worley’s stories. By the looks on everyone’s faces, I could tell that we were all thinking the same thing.

  “Well, kids,” he said, placing his large, plump hand on top of David’s head (David was now in the front row). “Your substitute will be here shortly. Why don’t you all take out your reading books and read silently while you wait for her.” Everyone was quiet except for Graham. He was leaning over and talking to Kelly.

  “That means you, young man,” Mr. Worley said, bringing his hand down on Graham’s new desk hard and loud. Graham jumped.

  “Yes, sir!” Graham yelled out, looking startled.

  “At ease, soldier,” Mr. Worley replied, smiling. Then he gave one last glance around the room and walked out the door. You could hear everyone exhale a loud sigh of relief. We all looked into our new desks to find reading books. I pulled out Luke’s book, hoping it would be interesting. Unfortunately, it was Charlotte’s Web. The librarian had told me once that I should read that book, but somehow the picture on the front never looked too exciting to me. It was just a girl, a pig, and a spider. Just as I was about to break open the book, Matt Lindenheimer, who was sitting by the door, yelled, “She’s coming!”

  We had talked about this moment every day at recess for the past week, and we were ready. We all tried to act serious, but we couldn’t hold back our smiles. There was a lot of giggling and wiggling around in seats. The sound of a lady’s footsteps got closer and closer. Then, when I could hardly stand it anymore, our substitute came bursting through the doorway.

  “Hello, class!” she called out in a bright, happy voice. I looked up and felt all the blood drain from my face. I thought I was going to faint. There was only one thing to say.

  “Mom?” I said. My mom, my very own mom, was our substitute! My hopes and dreams of being Luke the Puke for the week were dashed. I couldn’t believe it. She had sent me to school this morning without saying a word about this! Surely she knew ahead of time. Surely she didn’t just decide to ruin the best week of my life sometime between the moment I left our house this morning and right now.

  “Mrs. Knudson?” Graham said. “What are you doing here? Did you see our substitute out there in the hall?”

  “I am the substitute, Graham,” Mom answered with a big smile. Then she looked at me. “Raymond, this is the surprise I was telling you about yesterday. Surprise! Isn’t this great?” The entire class was staring at me. I could tell by the angry looks on their faces that they blamed me for spoiling their week of fun.

  “How is everyone today?” Mom asked, walking over to Mrs. Gibson’s desk. “Well, hello, Diane, Heidi, and oh, Lizzy, how is your mother doing?”

  Diane gave her a sad wave, and Heidi said hello. I don’t know what happened to Lizzy, but all of a sudden it was like my mom turned into Mrs. Gibson and Lizzy was trying to become the teacher’s pet again.

  “Hi, Mrs. Knudson,” Lizzy said. “Thank you for being our substitute. I bet you’ll be great.”

  “Why, thank you, Lizzy,” Mom said. “That’s very nice of you.”

  David looked at me from across the room. He was gritting his teeth and hitting his fist into his other hand. My arm started hurting just thinking about what was in store for me at recess. This was going to be a long week.

  7

  Sorry, Sweetie

  EVERYONE WAS QUIET at morning recess. It was like they had all just found out that Christmas had been canceled. Kids who normally played tag or swung on swings were just moping around. Graham and I usually played basketball at recess, but we didn’t really feel up to it today.

  “I can’t believe your mom is our substitute,” Graham said, shaking his head. “You know she ruined all our fun, don’t you?”

  “Of course I know she ruined our fun!” I said. “This was supposed to be the best week ever, and now everyone is just mad.” Just then David walked up and slugged me on the arm.

  “That’s for wrecking our awesome week. And this,” he added, punching me again in the same place, “is just for being a dork.”

  “David!” called a sharp voice from the school steps. “That was not a nice thing to do to Raymond! I know your mother very well, and I don’t think she would appreciate a phone call from me about her son punching other children at recess!” It was my mom, and she was mad. We all turned around and watched as she marched right up to us.

  “Now what seems to be the problem, young man?” she asked David. He didn’t answer. I knew this was going to end up with more punches to my arm sometime when my mom wasn’t around. She just stood there waiting for an answer. Finally David spoke up.

  “There’s no problem,” he grumbled.

  “Well, then I think you owe someone an apology,” Mom said with her hands on her hips. We were all silent. I could tell David wasn’t sure what to do. Usually, Mrs. Gibson just makes him sit by her desk for a day or two.

  “Yes, ma’am,” David answered. He looked mad. “Sorry, Raymond,” he said. Then he turned and walked away.

  “Whoa!” Graham burst out laughing. “That was awesome! I’ve never heard David apologize to anyone. Did you see his face?” Graham made a mad face to imitate David.

  “It’s not funny and it’s not awesome, Graham,” Mom said. “Punching other kids is serious business.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not really going to call his mom, are you?” I begged her.

  “No, not this time. Hopefully, he’s learned his lesson.”

  After recess, we all came in and sat in our regular places. It wasn’t fun switching places when my mom knew who most of us were anyway. David sat down next to me and whispered “You’re going to get it!” in my ear. Mom looked at me, but I just gave her a smile to let her know everything was all right.

  Graham was a little mad because he still wanted to sit by Kelly. Kelly, on the other hand, looked kind of happy to have Graham back in his normal spot. Just as Mom started writing our spelling words on the board, David raised his hand.

  “By the way,” he said. “Did Mrs. Gibson tell you about the party she promised us this Friday? We’ve been planning it for months.” Mom walked back to Mrs. Gibson’s desk and picked up the folder of instructions for the next week.

  “I don’t see anything in here that mentions a party,” Mom said, looking at the calendar.

  “Well, she did promise us,” he said. “You can ask anyone.”

  “Okay,” Mom said, looking around.

  Don’t ask me, don’t ask me, don’t ask me, I repeated in my head.

  “Raymond,” Mom finally called out. My heart sank. “Is this true about a party?” Every eye in the class was on me. I could tell they were begging me to confirm David’s story. But how could I lie to my mom? I mean, she always knows when I’m lying. If she caught me, I’d be in trouble for lying and we still wouldn’t get the party. But if I did lie and for some reason I didn’t get caught, everyone would love me. I would be the hero of the day. Oh man, I thought to myself, this stinks! As badly as I wanted to be the hero, I just couldn’t do it. After all, Mom was so excited to be my substitute. How could I let her down? So what if everyone would be mad at me? I decide
d to do the right thing and tell the truth. And I felt good about it too.

  I proudly looked up at my mom, ready to tell her that we were not planning a party. But just as I was about to spoil our fun, Lizzy beat me to it.

  “Mrs. Knudson,” Lizzy blurted out, holding her hand up. She never waits to be called on—she just raises her hand and starts talking. “I think you should know that we are not supposed to have a party. It’s just something that the students were trying to trick you into doing.” There was a soft groan from the rest of the class, and everyone just hung their heads.

  I couldn’t believe it! In my heart I actually wanted to do the right thing, even if it meant a slug in the arm and having everyone else in the class be mad at me, and Lizzy had ruined it. Mom looked at me with a disappointed expression on her face. Then she turned to Lizzy.

  “Thank you, Lizzy,” Mom said. “I appreciate your help.”

  “No problem,” Lizzy answered. “You can tell Mrs. Gibson that I helped you if you want.”

  I looked around the room. People were still looking at me like they were mad. It was like they were madder at me for not telling my mom that we were supposed to have a party than they were at Lizzy for telling the truth. I didn’t get it.

  With the party thing out of the way, we all got back to work. Mom gave us the math assignment and told us we had until lunchtime to work on it. About five minutes later, my mom asked for a volunteer to bring some papers to the office. My hand shot up in an instant. This part of having my mom as the teacher would come in handy, I figured. I would get to do all the fun stuff.

  “Brad,” Mom said, passing right over me. “Can you please take these papers to Ms. Adams in the office? She’ll know what they are.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I sat there frozen, my hand still in the air. What was that about? Was I getting punished for not telling the truth quickly enough earlier? Did my mom forget I was her son?