Let the Games Begin
Matt tells me he’ll pull one of the fire alarms so he can get detention too but we know he won’t do it. Carly is angry at both Umberto and me and decides to ignore him, which only makes Umberto try to get HER into trouble too. But Carly doesn’t let herself get sucked into Umberto’s evil plans.
Ms. McCoddle insists we suffer through our punishment in her classroom instead of with Ms. Loughlin, who usually runs detention. Ms. McCoddle must know that Ms. Loughlin is always so focused on her knitting that kids can usually get away with pretty much anything while she’s in charge. Instead, Ms. McCoddle grades papers in the front of the room while Umberto and I sit in our usual seats to begin our cartoon partnership.
We go through our own notebooks, ignoring each other for at least ten minutes before Ms. McCoddle interrupts the silence.
extended
“If I don’t have a comic you came up with TOGETHER by next week, detention will be extended to TWO weeks. Am I clear?”
Whatever happened to the happy, sing-songy kindergarten teacher Ms. McCoddle used to be? Umberto and I finally grunt out an acknowledgment and she turns back to her work.
“You think you have all the original ideas,” Umberto says. “Why don’t YOU start?”
“That’s exactly why YOU should be the one to go first—to show you actually can create an original character on your own.”
“That’s easy,” Umberto continues. “I could do it in my sleep.”
“Then take a nap and come up with something.” I put my arms behind my head as if I have all day.
It might be my imagination but it seems that Umberto’s finally at a loss for words. He scans the room nervously.
“Come on,” I taunt. “I’m waiting.”
falters
Umberto picks up his marker and draws the first panel. My confidence falters a bit when I see that he doesn’t need a ruler to make a crisp, straight line. He fills the first panel quickly and neatly, then pushes the paper across the desk.
I stare at his artwork and then laugh. Ms. McCoddle looks up with a smile, probably thinking we’re enjoying ourselves. Nothing could be further from the truth.
“You drew a penguin.”
zoologist
“No kidding,” Umberto says. “If you’re so good at animal identification, maybe you should be a zoologist.”
I hold up the paper and point to the wall behind me. “Now you’re just copying from the bulletin board. I helped Ms. McCoddle put up that penguin myself.”
Umberto leans back in his wheelchair. “I didn’t see that penguin. Your big head must’ve been blocking it.”
“There are millions of animals on the planet, and you just happen to come up with a penguin?”
“What’s the big deal? You came up with a baby seal.” He smiles as he gestures toward the seals in the corner of the board.
“I came up with my baby seal character BEFORE this bulletin board went up.”
basking
“Are you sure?” Umberto seems to really be basking in our argument. “Because I seem to remember this board being up first.”
“You’re lying!” I feel my cheeks flush, then watch as Ms. McCoddle rises from her desk.
“Is there a problem?” she asks.
“Umberto is copying someone else’s ideas—AGAIN.”
Umberto shrugs. “My colleague here isn’t happy with the character I created. I was just trying to jump-start the creative process. I’m happy to try again if this one doesn’t work for him.”
endearing
Ms. McCoddle examines the drawing. I pray for her to hate it but she smiles instead. She holds the page up to me. “I think this penguin is endearing. Isn’t this something you can work with, Derek?”
I want to tell her of COURSE I can work with a penguin. Who I CAN’T work with is Umberto. Instead I tell Ms. McCoddle I just have so many ideas I’m not sure which one to use first. She nods and returns to her desk.
“You stick your tongue out when you concentrate, do you know that?” Umberto asks. “I used to do that—back when I was two years old.”
I ignore the insult and hand him the finished panel.
He studies the paper for a few moments. As much as I dislike Umberto, all I’m thinking while he’s examining it is Do you think it’s good? Do you like it? I hate myself for wanting his approval.
“A flamingo?” he finally says. “How are we supposed to create a comic strip about two birds who can’t possibly exist in the same location?”
“Exactly,” I answer.
Just like the two of us.
Detention Spy
monotonous
While waiting for Umberto at our next monotonous detention, I draw a cartoon about a prisoner of war in solitary confinement with nothing to entertain himself but bugs and leaves. I know I’m not the first kid in the history of the world to say this, but detention STINKS.
confinement
When Umberto wheels up to his desk, he doesn’t seem as chipper as usual. If it were any other classmate, I’d ask what’s wrong but because it’s Umberto, I don’t.
“Let’s try to get a chunk of this done today,” I suggest. “’Cuz I don’t want our punishment to get extended.”
“Oh, like I do,” Umberto snaps.
He shoots me a look like I just punched his grandmother in the face.
“What’s your problem?” Although I don’t want to seem interested, curiosity has gotten the better of me.
Umberto rubs his left leg. “I’ve had a hard time sleeping, that’s all. It’s no big deal.”
knead
I watch him knead his leg the way my mom kneads dough when she bakes bread. “Does your leg hurt?”
“I’ve kind of gotten used to it but last night was bad.” He grabs the paper from my desk. “But not as bad as your lettering. Did you write this on a bus with no shock absorbers? While going down a hill?”
I grab the paper back and smooth it out on my desk. For a moment there I almost felt bad for Umberto. So much for being nice.
The two of us work on our strip, a story of two birds with nothing in common. When Ms. McCoddle comes over to check on our progress, she studies the panels carefully, then waits a few minutes before speaking.
“I’m not sure this is making any sense yet,” she says slowly. “And it seems a little negative. Then again, I’m not a cartoonist; you two are. I’m sure it’ll come together in the end.”
I’m glad our teacher is confident in our collaboration because I’m sure not. I take the opportunity to ask for permission to use the bathroom.
“You have five minutes before I come looking for you,” Ms. McCoddle says.
accelerate
The thought of Ms. McCoddle throwing open the door of the boys’ room is enough for me to accelerate my pace down the hall. But I don’t head toward the bathroom; I hurry to Mr. Owens’s room to check on Matt’s movie club.
crestfallen
I stand on my toes and sneak a peek into the window of the door. I’m crestfallen when I see Matt in the front of the room laughing. The other kids are laughing too. My worst fears have materialized: The rest of the world is having fun while I have detention.
materialized
As I’m about to head back to the classroom, I hear something and at first can’t tell what it is. After a moment, I realize someone’s crying. I look around the corner to find Carly leaning against her locker in tears. I look between Ms. McCoddle’s classroom and Carly. Even with a five-minute deadline, I can’t ignore one of my best friends.
“What’s the matter?” I ask. “Are you okay?”
She cries harder when she sees me. “Crash just broke up with me.”
“What? Why?”
She shrugs and wipes her tears with the edge of her sleeve. “I asked him but he wouldn’t tell me.”
From over my shoulder I hear Ms. McCoddle’s voice. “Did I tell you I’d be looking for you, Derek?”
“I’ll be right t
here.”
corralled
“I’m counting to three,” she says, as if I’m a baby who needs to be corralled back to his crib for naptime.
“I’m done at four if you can wait for me,” I tell Carly. “Okay?”
She shakes her head. “I just want to go home.”
“One … two…”
“I’m coming!” I race back to Ms. McCoddle’s room. Sheesh, get a life already.
devastated
I slide into my seat, but the last thing I’m thinking about is working with Umberto. I haven’t heard Carly cry since last year when Ginger the class hedgehog died while Carly was watching her. And I can’t get the image of her crying out of my mind; she looked so devastated.
I make it my mission to help Carly through this. As I put together a mental list of ways to take her mind off Crash, a tiny voice in my head becomes louder. And louder.
Carly’s not going out with Crash anymore!
It may be bad news for Carly, but it’s good news for me.
A Surprise from Umberto
sappy
When I ask Matt the next day about the comedy club, he insists it wasn’t as much fun without me. “You should’ve seen Mr. Owens. He was furious when I told him we weren’t doing romantic comedies. I think the guy had been prepping for weeks. He tried to shove his briefcase under his desk with his foot, but I know he brought in a pile of sappy DVDs.”
waterlogged
When I tell Matt about seeing Carly yesterday, he’s not surprised. “Crash is a waterlogged moron,” he says. “It was only a matter of time before he blew it.”
I nod in agreement but inside I’m thinking: Carly’s already had a relationship begin and end. Matt and I have no idea what she’s going through.
I texted Carly last night to see if she wanted to come over after I got back from detention today. She said yes, so I’m hoping Umberto and I can get through this afternoon’s session without a lot of drama.
I tried to talk Ms. McCoddle out of detention, not because of Carly, but so I could run my cartoon club. I pulled out all the stops, telling her I was the one in charge and we were covering a ton of new stuff this week. She let me finish, then told me someone else would have to run the club since I’d still be in detention. It made me wonder if she and my mom took how-to-be-firm lessons at the same school.
seize
When I finally get to my desk, I’m surprised to see Umberto looking at my photos of Bodi and Frank stuck inside my folder. I seize them from him.
“I was just checking out your pets. Calm down.”
“Stop going through my stuff!”
“Must be easier drawing a monkey with a real one around,” Umberto continues. “You have a baby seal at home, too?”
satisfaction
As irritated as I am, I almost laugh at the image of a baby seal sliding down the ice chute in our fridge but don’t want to give Umberto the satisfaction of being funny. I’m surprised that what he really wants to talk about is my dog.
Umberto asks what kind of breed Bodi is and I tell him he’s a mutt.
“Mine is too,” he says. “A rescue dog.”
It’s never occurred to me that Umberto has a dog or any other pet. He rummages through his pocket for his cell and shows me a photo of himself sitting in a kitchen chair, feeding a small brown terrier on his lap.
“You’re not supposed to feed dogs table scraps,” I say. “My mom’s a vet. I’ve heard her say it a million times.”
Umberto shrugs. “Minnie loves regular food. I sneak him bites all the time.”
“Your dog is a male and you named him Minnie?” It’s possibly the worst pet name I’ve ever heard, and given my mom’s veterinary practice, that’s saying a lot.
“I know. My grandmother named him. But he’s a great dog. Walking him is usually the best part of my day.”
logistics
It seems rude to ask Umberto the logistics of dog walking when he’s in a wheelchair. Does the dog sit in his lap, run alongside him, pull Umberto by the leash? After a while I look at the clock and realize twenty minutes have gone by and Umberto and I haven’t drawn a thing. Remembering that Carly’s coming to my house after detention, I grab my markers and pad.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have picked a penguin and a flamingo,” I tell Umberto. “Should we start over with dogs? It might be easier.”
He shakes his head. “I usually try really hard to finish a cartoon, even if it’s difficult.”
abandon
Umberto’s work ethic makes me feel bad about how ready I was to abandon our new characters—until I realize how easy it is to keep working on a cartoon WHEN YOU START OFF BY COPYING SOMEONE ELSE’S. I turn to a clean sheet of paper and concentrate on creating a new panel.
After a few minutes, I push the paper across the desk. The penguin is sliding down a snowy hill and dive-bombing into the water. The flamingo stands on one leg on the shore, wearing an arctic fox like a fur coat. I’m embarrassed to admit how much I want Umberto to like it.
“It’s funny,” he says, “but wouldn’t the arctic fox eat the flamingo?”
“In real life, sure. But this is a cartoon.” Do I have to explain how coyotes don’t really send away for weapons from the ACME Corporation to catch roadrunners? Sheesh.
“If we’re bending the rules of animal behavior,” Umberto says, “why don’t we make the flamingo native to Antarctica while we’re at it?”
“Because then it’s not funny,” I answer.
“Oh, is it funny now? I wasn’t sure.”
precision
I snatch the panel back and ask Umberto what HE came up with. He shows me three panels drawn with precision. In the world of his perfect panels, the penguin and flamingo watch TV in an igloo.
“I don’t get it,” I say.
Umberto moves from side to side in his chair. “They’re indoors because it’s so cold.”
“Yeah, but they’re inside a house of ice.”
“That’s the joke! How can they be warm and cozy sitting in an igloo?”
We stare at each other blankly, neither of us willing to give an inch.
unwilling
“But do you like how I drew the panels?” Umberto asks. “Or the lettering?”
I shrug, unwilling to give him even that.
It looks like we’re in for a mighty long detention.
Hanging with Carly
Carly knocks at the back door at exactly four thirty. The girl is so reliable, it’s frightening.
“Cartoon club totally imploded without you,” she says. “The twins knocked over every desk in the room, and when Susan tried to steal some makeup out of Ms. Ramirez’s purse, they got into a huge screaming match.”
“WHAT?”
“Calm down. I was kidding. Matt and I ran it together. It was totally fine.”
“Glad to see you’re back to your old self.”
But when she smiles, I catch a glimpse of some of the sadness I saw in her eyes yesterday.
My mother is happy to have Carly stay for dinner. Half the reason Carly and I started hanging out in the first place is that our moms are friends. Mom gives Carly a hug, which is kind of okay yet embarrassing at the same time.
oblige
The first thing we decide to do is take Bodi to the dog park. My mom asks if we can bring Snickers along, and when Carly sees how cute the puppy is, she’s happy to oblige.
leisurely
The dog park is usually a nice walk—seven blocks away—but for some reason three car alarms go off, so the leisurely stroll ends up sounding like a wartime air raid. I tell Carly how Ms. McCoddle’s idea of getting Umberto and me to collaborate on a comic strip is the worst idea in the history of bad ideas.
combative
Not only does our comic stink but our relationship—if you can call it that—is as combative as ever. (I forget to mention how incredible Umberto’s lettering and panels are.) As I talk, I realize all this conversation about Umberto will probably mean
that Carly will want to discuss Crash. As torturous as that sounds, it’s one of the reasons I invited her over today. When she starts to talk about how hard it is to see Crash in the hall now, I nod politely and try to be a good friend.
frolics
At the dog park, I unlock the fence slowly, making sure there aren’t any gigantic or mean-looking dogs who might injure Snickers or Bodi. When we take the dogs off their leashes, Bodi happily frolics through the mulch after Snickers. Carly’s probably the only girl I know who’s not embarrassed to pick up dog poop in a plastic bag in front of a classmate. It probably doesn’t sound like much of an endorsement, but in my book it’s high praise. Maybe I can talk her into helping me with Frank’s daily maintenance too.
endorsement
We sit on one of the benches and imitate a woman on the other side of the park talking to her collie. Carly and I laugh hysterically as we try to duplicate the woman’s thick Scottish accent.
duplicate
My Life as a Cartoonist Page 7