Public School Superhero

by James Patterson

  In other words, this whole new-principal thing is starting off exactly the way I was afraid it might: Sometimes even the beautiful ones bring you the most heartache and trouble. I can feel it in my big toe. It tingles sometimes when trouble is about to pop off.

  And it’s tingling.

  A TIGHT SPOT

  Speaking of trouble…

  A few days later, I get my next beat-down from Tiny Simpkins. He’s stepping to me pretty much all the time now, but some days are worse than others.

  Like today, for instance.

  There I am, standing in front of my locker, minding my own, when I hear these voices behind me.

  “I don’t know, young. Looks kind of tight.”

  “Nah, man. He’s got it. No doubt.”

  When I turn around, Tiny’s standing there with his boy Jerome Cleary. His brother Tony is there, too. Tony’s in eighth grade, and he looks a lot like Tiny, if you added a couple of inches and twenty pounds of muscle wrapped in blubber.

  “Wassup, Grandma’s Boy?” Tiny says.

  “Wassup?” I say, like always.

  “See, we got this bet going on,” Tiny tells me. “My big brother here thinks there’s no way you can fit inside that locker. But I say he’s wrong.”

  I try to get in chill mode, but on the inside I’m already hitting the panic button. Big-time. I probably could fit inside that locker if someone really wanted me to.

  And I think someone does.

  I start to close the door real quick, but Tiny’s already there to stop me.

  “Hold on,” he says.

  “Come on, Tiny,” I say. There’s no use pretending anymore. “Why don’t you just keep it moving, man? For real.”

  “‘Keep it moving’?” he says. “Listen to this bamma. How about I ‘move’ this upside your head?”

  Before I can do anything, he’s picking me up like a human gym bag and stuffing me inside that locker. He gives me a punch in the chest, too, and then slams the locker closed. When I try to stop him, all it gets me is a faceful of door. My nose is smushed, my teeth are rattled, and my pride feels like the bottom of the boots of a guy whose job it is to clean up dog poop at the park. Yeah, like that.

  Meanwhile, Tiny and his boys are wilding out in the hall. I can even see little pieces of them through the holes in the metal.

  Then I hear Tiny say, “What’re you looking at, Wong? You want some of this?”

  They start chasing Arthur down the hall, and that’s it. I’m all on my own here. There’s no handle inside this locker, and nobody bothering to help me, either.

  What I could really use right now is some Steel.

  Or maybe a crowbar and a little oxygen tank.

  My fear of cramped, tiny spaces that smell like sweaty shorts and stale socks is starting to get to me. This is jacked up.

  15

  DID SOMEONE SAY “STEEL”?

  NOT NOW, RAY-RAY!

  Meanwhile, back in my locker, nothing’s happening. I can see people walking by, but nobody stops. Nobody even lifts a finger.

  “Hello?” I say again. “Hello? I know y’all hear me. Dang…”

  Then the door opens and Arthur’s standing there.

  “Let’s go eat,” he says.

  That’s it. Arthur knows what it’s like. The last thing you want to do after something like this is talk about it. So we just head on down to the Sugar Shack and find a couple of seats.

  I’m not hungry, so I skip the line. Arthur busts out his chess set and the lunch he brought from home. His dad’s a porter at some fancy Chinese restaurant. Today, he’s got doggie-bag chicken and an egg roll he breaks in half for me, but I don’t want that, either. I just want to get this day over with.

  So when Ray-Ray Powell and his girlfriend Preemie come sniffing around, I am seriously not in the mood.

  “What up, y’all?” Ray-Ray says.

  I just ignore him. Arthur does, too.

  “You deaf?” Preemie says. She’s the only white girl at our school, and probably one of the shortest, too. I have no idea why she hangs with Ray-Ray. She just does. She’s from Chevy Chase, one of the whitest parts of the Maryland/DC area, and her pops was a crazy-rich lawyer. They fell on hard times somehow and her parents got divorced, and now her mom sells shoes at the mall. Sometimes it goes down like that.

  “You can keep moving, Ray-Ray,” I tell him. “We don’t have anything for you to eat, all right?”

  “You sure about that?” Ray-Ray says, and steps in.

  I can see it coming a mile away. He’s going to try and take another hostage, so I put my arms over the chessboard to stop him.

  But there’s too many pieces to protect. Ray-Ray snakes his own skinny arm in there and pulls a white bishop and a knight off Arthur’s home row. Then he steps back, grinning like a fool.

  Now, if I was Stainlezz Steel, we all know what would happen next. Ray-Ray would be straight molly-whopped.

  But I’m not Steel. I’m just me. And to be honest, I’m getting pretty tired of being me. I’m up to there with Ray-Ray, and Tiny, and the Quaashies, and detention, and all of it.

  So maybe that’s why I snap—like a one-eyed man with a busted telescope.

  “You want something to eat?” I say. “Eat this!”

  Then I pick up that half an egg roll and wing it right at Ray-Ray’s head. Some of it gets on his shirt, but most of it goes on the floor. (I don’t have a rocket for an arm. You’ll never mistake me for RGIII.)

  Ray-Ray looks at me like he can’t believe it. So do Arthur and Preemie. Even I can’t believe it.

  “Ohh, boyyy—shouldn’ta done that,” Preemie’s saying. She’s got her hand over her mouth, and her eyes are all lit up like she can’t wait for whatever’s going to happen next.

  I’ve never seen Ray-Ray really mad before. My heart’s thumping like an 808 bass drum. So I throw my hands up to block anything coming my way.

  When he comes in swinging, I jump out of the way. But it’s not me he’s after. It’s the chessboard. His arm sweeps the whole thing off the table and everything goes flying—the pieces, the board, my backpack, and Arthur’s lunch.

  It makes a big noise, and it even quiets down the cafeteria—for about three seconds. Everyone looks like they’re expecting a fight. But then they see it’s just me and they go back to their business.

  Everyone except for Dr. Yetty. She comes out of nowhere and swoops down on our table.

  “What is the meaning of this display?” she says, looking all heated.

  “Kenny threw food at me!” Ray-Ray yells.

  “He took our chess pieces,” Arthur says.

  “Ray-Ray didn’t do nothing,” Preemie’s saying. “Ray-Ray didn’t do nothing, Dr. Y.”

  But Dr. Yetty isn’t listening to Preemie. She’s staring at me, and then at Ray-Ray, and then at me again. It’s like sitting under a heat lamp, the way she looks at us.

  “Both of you—Raymond and Kenneth. Clean up this mess. And then I want you to report straight to the office, toot sweet!” she says.

  I don’t know what toot sweet means, but it can’t be good. Before all this, I’d never been sent to the principal’s office for anything. Now I’m two for two and the school year’s just getting going.

  I’m starting to think maybe this place is bad luck.

  No, scratch that. I know it’s bad luck.

  DR. YETTY’S REALLY BIG, REALLY TERRIBLE IDEA

  Dr. Yetty has the office set up all different than Mr. Diaw did. The desk is against the wall, and there’s a round table with some chairs in the middle of the room. She’s also drinking coffee out of this huge mug with Muhammad Ali’s picture. On the side, it says, “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”

  Yeah, that seems about right.Here comes the sting.

  “Can someone please tell me what happened?” Dr. Yetty says.

  “Kenny in a bad mood today,” Ray-Ray says.

  “Kenny is in a bad mood,” Dr. Yetty corrects him.

  “That too,”
Ray-Ray says. “’Cause someone put him in his locker this morning.”

  And I think, How does he know that? I guess he must have seen it, but still. I don’t like Ray-Ray getting inside my head.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Yetty,” I say. “I just kind of snapped.”

  “Don’t tell me,” she says. “Tell Raymond.”

  I get it over with quick. “Sorry, Ray-Ray,” I say.

  “It’s cool. It’s cool,” he says really fast. “Sorry I messed with your game like that.”

  I know he doesn’t mean it, though. Nobody fronts more than Ray-Ray Powell. His middle name should be Scam. He’s a full-time faker.

  “Okay then,” Dr. Yetty says. She’s looking at our files now. “Ray-Ray, you’ve already had two detentions this year. And Kenny, you’ve had one as well. Not off to a very good start, are we?”

  “Dr. Yetty, I can’t have another detention in my file,” I say. “You’ve met my grandma. She’s going to kill me. I’m not even kidding.”

  Dr. Y. nods and looks at me. Then she sits back and thinks for a minute. I can’t tell which way this is going, so I hold my breath.

  Just before I’m ready to pass out, she finally starts talking again. “All right,” she says, “I have a proposal. Kenny, I want you to teach Raymond how to play chess. And Raymond, I want you to learn.”

  And I’m like—

  At first, I think Dr. Y.’s messing with me. I even laugh a little, but she’s not smiling. She’s dead serious. The only one who’s smiling is Ray-Ray.

  He’s all ear-to-ear with it, like he actually likes this idea.

  “I’m down with that,” he says, and Dr. Y. looks at me again.

  “Do I have a choice?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says.

  “Good. Because—”

  “You can take a one-day suspension instead,” she tells me.

  And now I’m more like—

  I can hardly believe it. Dr. Yetty is even stricter than Mr. Diaw was. She’s stricter than G-ma, too, and I totally didn’t think that was possible. I’m not even sure what G-ma would do if I got suspended. All I know is, I don’t want to find out.

  “How long do we have to do this?” I say.

  “Until Raymond can finish one game of chess against me—win, lose, or draw, but without asking for any help,” Dr. Yetty says. “And you both have to stay out of trouble in the meantime, or I will suspend you. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “No, ma’am,” I say right away. Ray-Ray just shrugs.

  And whether I like it or not, that’s the end of that.

  Or just the beginning, depending on how you look at it.

  LESSON #1

  The next day’s Friday, which is one of G-ma’s tutoring days. It’s also my first chess lesson with Ray-Ray.

  Ray-Ray shows up on time. Not for the chess, but for whatever G-ma brought me to eat. Dude is always hungry.

  “What is that? Cake?” he says, looking at the little bag in my hand.

  “Nope. It’s a sack full of moldy jockstraps, mousetraps, and angry scorpions. Stick your hand in and get you some,” I tell him, looking straight serious. I don’t even open the bag.

  “Don’t even trip with me, fool,” he says. “I’m not the one who threw that egg roll.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re also not the one who has to teach you chess,” I say. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  We sit down and I start showing him where everything goes at the beginning of the game. Then I show him how all the different pieces move around the board—rook, knight, bishop, king, queen, and pawns.

  “Dang, we’re gonna be here a long time,” Ray-Ray says. “Where’d you learn all this, anyway?”

  “From my dad,” I say. Which is true. “He’s a cop. A detective, actually. He puts bad guys away for a living.”

  “Yeah, right,” Ray-Ray says. “Why don’t I ever see him on the block?”

  “’Cause he doesn’t live here anymore,” I say. Which is also true. Or at least, kind of true.

  “Good thing,” Ray-Ray says. “’Cause my brother plays for the other side. You know—the one that’s winning? Your pops don’t stand a chance against my man Nicky.”

  “Whatever,” I say. “Just shut up and pay attention, okay?”

  After a while, Dr. Yetty comes in to check on us.

  “What have you learned so far?” she asks Ray-Ray.

  “This little man here is the king,” Ray-Ray says, and points at the queen.

  “Not quite,” she says. “That’s the queen, but she is the most powerful piece on the board.”

  Ray-Ray looks at her like maybe she’s lying. “Since when?” he says. “The whole game’s all about the king, right? Everyone works for him. No disrespect, Dr. Yetty, but that’s power.”

  I’m kind of surprised, to tell the truth. Most of Ray-Ray’s classes are with the learning-disabled kids. But if I’m completely honest, he seems sharp enough. I don’t even know why he’s in those classes.

  A little later, G-ma comes strolling in, too. When I look at the clock, it’s 4:20. I was supposed to meet her out front five minutes ago. How’d that happen?

  “What do we have here?” G-ma says. “And who’s this?”

  I can’t lie to G-ma in front of Dr. Yetty. That’s as good as getting busted.

  But before I can figure out what to say, Dr. Y. speaks up.

  “Kenneth is teaching Raymond how to play chess,” she says. “I asked the two of them if they wanted to give it a try, and they both said yes.”

  It’s not exactly a lie, but still—I can’t believe it. Did Dr. Yetty just cover for me? She’s not only smart, and strict, and Beyoncé-fine, but she’s clever, too. Good lookin’ out, Dr. Yetty!

  “Well, isn’t that wonderful?” G-ma says. “I’ve been trying to get Kenneth more involved. Now he’s gone and done it on his own.” She bends down and gives me a kiss, which couldn’t be more embarrassing, but that’s not what I’m worried about right now.

  I’m worried about the way Ray-Ray’s looking at me. He heard me in Dr. Yetty’s office yesterday. He knows this is supposed to be a secret. Even though Dr. Y. just helped me out, it doesn’t mean anything if Ray-Ray snitches on me.

  But for some reason, Ray-Ray doesn’t say a word. I don’t know why, but he covers for me, too.

  So I open up that piece of cake, break it in half, and slide one half over to him.

  “Mmm, good cake,” he says, giving that fake smile of his up at G-ma.

  Ray-Ray Powell is smarter than I thought. He knows exactly how to get what he wants.

  And now that he knows my secret, too, something tells me I’m in bigger trouble than ever.

  It sucks when someone has something, anything, hanging over you. It’s like they own you.

  Sucks.

  NOT GETTING IT

  Monday, Ray-Ray’s not in school, so I don’t have to teach his beggin’ behind anything. Then Tuesday at lunch I’m sitting there with Arthur, Dele, and Vashon, and guess who comes over and sits right down with us?

  “What do you want, Ray-Ray?” Vashon says.

  “I’m just sitting,” Ray-Ray says. “Why do I got to want something?” He even has his own lunch tray. So then what’s he doing here?

  It doesn’t matter, though, because I can see Tiny and Jerome coming this way. Something tells me they’re going to want our table, and I’m not in the mood for another beat-down.

  “Let’s just go, you guys,” I say, and start sucking down the last of my chocolate milk.

  “Why? What’s up?” Arthur says. He’s got his back turned, so he can’t see Tiny coming up on us like a Mack truck.

  But then the weirdest thing of all happens.

  “Wassup, Tiny?” Ray-Ray says.

  “Wassup?” Tiny says. He doesn’t even look at me. He and Jerome just keep on walking. A second later, I hear them somewhere behind me.

  “Hey, ladies. We need this table. Now.”

  I turn around and some other sixth grad
ers are scrambling to get out of the way. Some of them move faster than others.

  When I turn back again, Ray-Ray’s just sitting there, grinning away.

  “You don’t have to worry about Tiny no more,” he says.

  “What are you talking about?” I say. “Why not?”

  “I told him about your pops. I made it good, too. I told him even my brother Nicky don’t mess with Kenny Wright.”

  “What about your dad?” Dele asks me.

  “Nothing,” I say. That’s another whole can of worms I don’t want to get into.

  “Is your brother really Nicky Powell?” Vashon asks Ray-Ray.

  “The one and only,” Ray-Ray says. And even though I’ve never heard of Nicky Powell, I can tell that Dele and Vashon have. All of a sudden, they’re looking at Ray-Ray a little different. Nobody tells him to get up anymore, either.

  Meanwhile, I’m sitting there thinking, What just happened here? It’s like Ray-Ray wants to be… friends… or something.

  And I don’t get it.

  What’s the deal?

  RAY-RAY, PREEMIE, QUAASHIE, VANESSA, AND… ME?

  After school, I’m walking home when I hear Ray-Ray’s voice behind me.

  I turn around and he’s coming up the sidewalk with Preemie, Quaashie W., and that girl Vanessa from G-ma’s tutoring group.

  “Where you going?” Ray-Ray asks me.

  “Home,” I say.

  “We’re hitting the corner store for some hot chips. Preemie says she never had any,” Ray-Ray says.

  “They’re good,” I tell Preemie. I don’t stop walking, though. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do right now. Quaashie and Vanessa are bringing up the rear, and all of a sudden, there I am, sandwiched between Ray-Ray and Preemie.

  On the real… a brotha is uncomfortable.

  “What’s going on?” I say. “Why’re you doing this?”

  “Doing what?” Ray-Ray says. “We’re just hanging out. You keep on walking if you want to.”