My initial reaction is to rip Umberto’s precious drawings to shreds, but as an illustrator, I know how hard he probably worked on them and can’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I dangle the pages over Umberto’s head. “You want them? Come and get them.”
From his wheelchair, Umberto tries to reach them but can’t.
“Um, maybe you should just give them back,” Carly suggests.
But I’m having too much fun watching Umberto struggle.
“Derek Fallon!” Ms. McCoddle shouts. “What on earth is going on?”
urchin
Before I can answer, she snatches the pages from my hands and gives them to Umberto, who’s still trying to reach them. The expression on his face is that of a hungry street urchin. Forget comics; this kid should join the drama club.
I try to explain but Ms. McCoddle cuts me off. “I want to see you after class,” she says.
angelic
“Both of us?” Umberto asks in a voice that can only be called angelic.
Ms. McCoddle points straight at me. “Just Derek.”
Matt pretends to hang himself with an invisible rope, and Carly just shakes her head.
“I know Umberto started it,” she whispers. “But it looked really bad, like you were taunting a kid in a wheelchair.”
retaliate
Carly doesn’t need to remind me—I can only imagine how the whole scene appeared. I remember Michael telling me about two guys at a Dodgers game who made fun of him, eventually grabbing his pack and playing catch with it. He couldn’t stop them, couldn’t do anything to retaliate from his wheelchair. The fact that for just a moment I looked like those guys makes me feel terrible—not to mention that I’m also counting down the minutes till Ms. McCoddle lowers the boom.
Ms. McCoddle doesn’t even look at me when she hands out the math test.
This wasn’t how I thought today would go when I got up this morning.
Ms. McCoddle Plays Hardball
I have a detailed explanation ready to give Ms. McCoddle but she cuts me off at the knees.
hothead
“Derek, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately.”
I rein in my anger and try not to look like a hothead.
“This only started happening when Umberto transferred into our class,” I say. “He’s been egging me on, looking for trouble.”
“Really? Because from what I saw today, YOU were the one starting the conflict.”
awkward
I look down at my sneakers, feeling suddenly awkward. “You’ve known me since kindergarten—I’m not someone who looks for trouble.”
Ms. McCoddle softens a bit. “Umberto had good grades at his last school with no discipline problems. Plus, he seems like a nice kid. So I suggest you two come to some sort of understanding before things get out of hand.”
As she talks, she stands on a chair and pins up posters of penguins and glaciers, getting ready for the section we’re starting on Antarctica. I try to get on her good side by handing her thumbtacks.
“Kids with various disabilities sometimes have it tougher than other kids,” Ms. McCoddle says. “You should know that.”
irritated
I’m irritated she’s bringing up my poor reading skills as a way to force a connection between Umberto and me. I hold the thumbtack too far for her to reach and watch her wobble on the chair.
“Everyone has obstacles to overcome,” she continues. “You and Umberto might have a lot in common after all.”
“Why aren’t you giving HIM this lecture?” I ask as I finally give her the thumbtack. “He’s the one going out of his way to stir up trouble.”
She carefully climbs off the chair, weighing her words. “I’m telling you because I know you. I’m asking you, as a favor, to smooth things out.”
Ms. McCoddle smiles at me now with such warmth that she could almost melt the ice in the photos behind her.
comply
I decide to comply with her wishes and point to the collage. “How come you didn’t put up any polar bears?”
“Polar bears live in the Arctic, at the North Pole. The only time they’re near penguins is at the zoo.”
instigating
Thankfully, she doesn’t give me grief about not doing the reading or knowing my geography. I head to my locker, determined to set things right with Umberto even if he’s the one who’s been instigating all the trouble. I just hope we’re not like penguins and polar bears—thousands of miles away from each other with nothing to connect us but ice.
Comedy Club
categories
Between my talk with Ms. McCoddle and cartoon club starting this week, I push my troubles with Umberto to the back of my mind. Five kids have signed up, but thankfully not Umberto. Since Matt’s club is on Tuesday and mine’s on Thursday, I help him prepare for his first. He finds several clips in his giant DVD collection, then puts them into different categories: action comedies, buddy comedies, horror comedies, gross-out comedies, fish-out-of-water comedies. All the work he’s put into his club makes me wonder if I’m prepared enough for mine.
“Eight kids have signed up. Do you think that’s enough?” Matt asks.
I tell him my club has even less. “Besides, once word gets out how funny your club is, you’ll have more kids wanting to join.”
“Do you think Mr. Owens will be okay?” Matt asks. “He’s not the first teacher you think of when you think funny.”
I stop in my tracks. “You’re actually WORRIED about this? You’re not supposed to get stressed out about comedy.”
“I just want everything to be good,” Matt says. “You know how Mr. Owens likes to comment on everything all the time.”
monitor
I remind Matt that every after-school club needs a teacher to monitor it, and Mr. Owens was the only one who agreed to help. “Everything’s going to be fine. You can’t go wrong with comedy.”
I feel as if I’ve actually acted like a good best friend because Matt calms down as we head to the classroom he’s reserved.
The usual suspects are there—Pete, Bobby, Runt, and Sam—as well as two girls I hadn’t met before, Heather and Wendy.
Mr. Owens rubs his hands together like he’s standing in front of a campfire. “Are you ready to get this show on the road? And when I say road I mean ROAD MOVIE!” He holds up the DVD to a movie Matt and I hate, and I suddenly realize Matt was right to worry about Mr. Owens being overly involved.
“Actually, Mr. Owens, we’re not doing that movie today,” Matt says.
assertive
I’m proud Matt’s being assertive instead of just going along with Mr. Owens because he’s a teacher.
Mr. Owens waves the DVD box in the air. “No problem. This is your show. I’ll be back at my desk grading papers. Let me know if you need someone to bail you out.”
Matt leans against a desk in the front row and addresses the kids who’ve come today. “Okay, let’s start with buddy movies.”
suppress
He takes a marker and makes a list of buddy comedies on the Smart Board behind him. It’s funny to see Matt acting so teacher-y. I have to suppress my initial reaction to heckle him and sit quietly instead, especially since our positions will be reversed for my class in a few days.
heckle
“You left out a few classics,” Mr. Owens pipes up from the back of the room.
I watch as Matt decides whether to include Mr. Owens in the conversation or keep going. To my surprise, he plows straight ahead, ignoring him. “Let’s talk about the two main characters in a buddy movie and how they’re usually opposites.”
“Not always,” Mr. Owens says. “But it makes for better conflict if they are.”
Matt leans his head against the Smart Board. I know he wants to tell Mr. Owens to shut up but, of course, he can’t. I try to help by asking about one of the movies on the list.
“Do you have a clip from that one?” I ask, knowing full well he does.
“Good idea. Let�
�s go to a clip.” Matt plays a few scenes from the buddy movie on his laptop, which he’s connected to the projector. Soon everyone’s laughing and back on track.
Mr. Owens focuses on his work for the rest of the hour and it’s obvious when everyone gets up to leave they enjoyed Matt’s club.
brainstorming
“Next week, holiday comedies.” As Matt gathers up his notes, I can tell he’s happy with his accomplishment, already brainstorming ideas for future meetings.
We rush out of the room before Mr. Owens finishes with his papers so we don’t have to listen to his suggestions.
“He’s just supposed to be in the room,” Matt says as we head to our lockers. “He’s not supposed to contribute.”
intrusive
Ms. Ramirez, the art teacher, is monitoring my club on Thursday; Ms. McCoddle offered to do it but the principal decided to appoint her as head of the English Committee, basically canceling all her free time. I pray Ms. Ramirez is less intrusive than Mr. Owens. But what makes me come to a grinding halt isn’t the thought of Ms. Ramirez ruining my club but what I see at the end of the hallway. Matt also stops, both of us frozen in front of the science lab.
“Is that … Carly?” Matt whispers.
I nod, too surprised to form words.
“Kissing Crash?!”
We silently back up the hall before Carly sees us.
Carly Has a Boyfriend?!
“It’s inconceivable!” I say when we get outside.
inconceivable
“You mean it’s inconceivable that Carly has a boyfriend and it isn’t YOU?” Matt adds.
“What are you talking about? I didn’t say that.”
Matt shoves his index cards into his backpack. “No, I’M saying that. You’ve had a crush on her from Day One.”
“Are you kidding?” I yell. “We HATED her in the beginning!”
“I mean after we became friends with her, whatever day that was.” He zips up his pack. “If you don’t like her, then why do you care?”
“Don’t make this about me. You’re as shocked as I am she’s making out with Crash.”
Matt smirks, as if getting me upset is part of his master plan. “I’m surprised she’s with Crash, but I’m not half as upset as you are.”
“I AM NOT UPSET!”
This statement is so ludicrous I have no choice but to join Matt in his laughter.
“I’m just shocked. I mean, Crash is so—”
“—Much cooler than we are?” Matt interrupts.
I don’t admit to Matt that the reason I’m having a hard time with Carly going out with Crash isn’t because the guy’s too cool but because he’s actually nice.
ashamed
I don’t often work in my mother’s office but one day last year I was helping her organize some samples when Crash came in with his father and their cat that wouldn’t stop scratching. As I watched from the hall, an older woman came out of one of the exam rooms, crying because her dog had just been put to sleep. My mother had her arm around the woman as she headed toward the exit. The woman told my mom she was fine but when she started crying all over again, it was Crash who jumped up from his seat to grab the woman’s arm and help her to the door. I was nearby but, I’m ashamed to admit, frozen by the woman’s grief. It’s easy for Matt and me to make fun of Crash but I know there’s more to him than just his surfer vocabulary and skateboarding skills.
“Hey, guys! What are you still doing here?”
Matt and I freeze at the sound of Carly’s voice. Thankfully she’s by herself.
Matt tells her today was the debut of his comedy club. While he discusses the class, I check Carly out with new eyes. She is smart and her newfound confidence from surfing has made her more attractive too. Her hair is lighter from all the time she’s spending outside.
milestone
Neither Matt nor I have ever gone out with anyone; I guess I never thought Carly would beat us to that milestone. I try not to think of her differently as she talks to Matt now, but I have to admit, I do.
“You want to get some frozen yogurt?” she asks.
Matt gives me a look, asking me what I think. I say sure and we head toward Wilshire. We talk about the shocking piles of homework Ms. Decker’s been handing out and how Swifty had to get stitches on his forehead after tripping in a puddle of his own sweat in gym class. As I watch Carly do her impersonation of Swifty, all I can think of is Crash—and how lucky he is to have Carly as a girlfriend.
Lots of Preparation
lethargic
The next few days I’m so focused on preparing for cartoon club that I fail a math test and forget to walk Snickers, who ends up peeing all over the rug in Mom’s office. Neither of these events bothers me much but I do feel bad about missing time with Bodi. He’s been more lethargic than usual, so I promise myself to spend some time with him after Thursday’s meeting.
influenced
As I told Ms. McCoddle, Ms. Ramirez, and anyone else who’d listen, I hardly consider myself an illustration expert; I just want to talk about drawing cartoons. Two of the kids who signed up—Terry and Tommy, identical twins who I’ve never been in class with—do these hilarious drawings of cats with bloodshot eyes and razor-like claws that I’ve seen plastered around school. My guess is that they were influenced by Ren and Stimpy, and I can’t wait to talk to them about it.
aura
I put together an outline for the six weeks the club will run and include topics like developing characters and layout. For an instant, I consider having my father come in as a guest lecturer, but since he’s my dad and I’m trying to project an aura of independence, I decide against it.
psychotic
In the section on materials, I write down all the different options most comic book artists use: markers, pen and ink, pencils, erasers, and quality paper. I break down the different stages of comic book art into outlining, inking, coloring, and lettering. I’ve always done all stages myself as I’m sure most of the other kids have, although I’d KILL to have someone else do my lettering. Maybe some of the other kids will have tips they can share on how to get the lettering in my strips to look professional instead of like it was done by a psychotic toddler.
When I’m finished, I check the latest sign-up sheet. Even though neither Matt nor Carly is interested in cartooning, both of them have registered for the class to be supportive. I’m especially happy that Carly is coming; I was worried she’d try to weasel out of it to spend more time with Crash. But one thing about Carly, she’s a solid friend.
exhaustively
Of course the real reason I’m exhaustively checking the list is to make sure Umberto didn’t sign up at the last minute. I close all the files for the club on my computer and breathe a sigh of relief.
The rest of the night I spend happily sandwiched between Bodi and Frank on the couch. My mother hates it when I let them up on the furniture, but she’s doing paperwork in her office and Dad doesn’t mind as much as she does. As we watch the sitcom family on TV, Dad reminds me of what we talked about recently—how normal, routine things can become the topic of a comic strip. But my brain is fried. The last thing on my mind is milking this moment for material. Instead, I lean my head against the cushion and enjoy the moment for what it is: perfect.
Today’s the Day
asphyxiation
After class I hurry to Ms. Ramirez’s art room on the other side of the school.
“I’m not going to say a peep. This is your show,” Ms. Ramirez assures me. She’s wearing a scarf around her neck that’s wrapped so many times I wonder if I’m going to have to save her from asphyxiation.
“Feel free to use any of the materials in the room,” Ms. Ramirez continues. “Make yourself at home.”
accommodating
She’s being so accommodating and friendly, I feel bad for worrying about her so much.
Matt comes in and tosses his stuff on the first desk. “You’re not going to give homework, are you? Cuz the last thing I ne
ed is to start drawing stick figures on everything the way you do.”
I make sure Ms. Ramirez isn’t looking, then hurl an eraser at Matt. He brushes the chalk off his jeans with a laugh. The two of us stop fooling around when we see Carly hovering outside the classroom door … with Crash.
Matt leans over and whispers to me. “Where does he think she’s going—Hawaii? The club’s only an hour. Can’t they live without each other for that long?”
I’m so busy watching Carly’s body language that I barely listen to Matt. She’s twirling her hair, throwing her head back, and laughing at something that doesn’t sound remotely funny. What is happening to her? Just as I’m about to gag at Carly turning into some airhead girlfriend, Matt smacks me with the eraser.
“Dude, wake up! You’ve got a club to run.”
fixate
He’s right. I take my place in the front of the room and try not to fixate on Carly when she finally joins us.
I open my pad and check my notes. “I want to welcome everyone to the first meeting of the cartoon drawing club. We’re going to have a lot of fun.”
I look around the room at Matt, Carly, Terry, Tommy, and Susan, who I don’t know but already looks bored. “I thought we could start by checking out what we’ll be talking about for the next six weeks.” I take a stack of pages from my pack and pass them out.
My Life as a Cartoonist Page 4