“You are aware you’re early for parent-teacher night,” Principal Droon said, now crouched behind his desk. One harsh look from Matt shut him right up.
Matt fumbled with the keypad and finally calmed down enough to enter the number one for how many copies he wanted. He slammed the lid shut and then looked wildly for the button that would make the final magic happen.
“Come on, come on!” Matt shouted while he pushed different buttons on the machine, hoping he would hit the right one.
THE THREE BEES IN THE HALLWAY OUTSIDE CRAZ’S locker were really having fun.
Craz, on the other hand—not so much. The first stinger that had pierced the door had only ripped through his shirt, thankfully not turning him into a shish kebab. But the bees were persistent and took turns trying to skewer him. The stingers sliced easily through the metal, and Craz had to shift his body left and then right to try to avoid getting stung. It was just a matter of time before one of the bees got lucky, Craz thought, unaware that the three huge bees were in a huddle making a new play to all attack at once.
Craz sucked in his gut.
The bees readied their final strike.
MATT FOUND THE BUTTON.
The old copy machine rattled and hummed, and then the first blast of light shot out from under the lid.
Inside the office Matt didn’t dare breathe, while a few hundred feet away a petrified Craz braced for the worst with his eyes shut tight.
And then the second burst of light filled the entire school.
42
PHEW!
“HELLO? KILLER BEES? CRAZY ALIENS?”
Craz slowly opened the locker door and made sure the coast really was clear. Thankfully, everything seemed to be back the way it was supposed to be. Everything except how he felt about Matt.
He’d been called an idiot plenty of times. But never by the guy who was supposed to be his best friend. And he still thought the bee idea was genius—if not also just slightly deadly.
Matt walked out of the principal’s office wondering why he didn’t feel better. For once he hadn’t just hidden. He’d finally taken action. But the last thing he felt like was a hero. He turned into the hallway with the original cartoon in his hand and ran into a sunburned and bug-bitten Mrs. Bentz wearing a strange hat made from what looked like a huge leaf. She was holding a cutlass, which she swung haphazardly at an invisible foe.
“I know you’re out there . . . Long John? Jim Hawkins? It’s me. Edna!”
Instantly Matt kind of regretted bringing her back to the school, but he figured the pen had caused enough trouble for one day.
“Um, Mrs. Bentz,” Matt said, being careful not to get too close. “Kilgore Junior High is a weapon-free school.”
“School?” She seemed to remember the place. “Aye. That it is!” She let the cutlass drop to her side as she looked all around the hallway for familiar signs. She grabbed Matt by the collar and pulled him close, whispering, “So is this a dream too?”
“Beats me,” said Matt as he pulled away, and then he rushed past her. “But it’s parent-teacher night. You might want to brush your teeth.”
While Mrs. Bentz stumbled toward her classroom, Matt came into the main hallway and saw Craz still standing by the lockers. He didn’t know what to say but wanted to try to fix things.
“You’re okay,” Matt said. “That’s great.”
“Yeah. Great.” Craz looked away. The silence felt like it went on forever. “Hey, it’s almost six. I better go meet up with my parents.”
“Right,” Matt said. “Parent-teacher night.” The pen dug into his leg, and he wished he could erase the conversation they’d had back in the lockers. “Look, Craz—”
Craz cut him off. “I really better get going, Matt. Later, okay?”
“Right,” Matt said. “Later.”
BY SIX FIFTEEN THE SCHOOL WAS CRAWLING WITH parents trying to follow the confusing charts plastered on the walls that showed which teachers were assigned to what classrooms. Kids led their parents around like obedient sheepdogs, for the most part dreading the night’s events because they knew that no good ever comes from parents and teachers actually talking.
Matt texted his parents, saying that he was waiting for them inside the school by the front doors. He saw Craz’s parents arrive and said a quick hello before watching them meet up with their son, who had chosen to wait by the cafeteria instead of by the doors with Matt.
“Oh, Larry. Wait until you hear,” Mrs. Crazinski said as she gripped Craz’s hands.
“Hear what?” Craz asked. But his mother just grinned and pointed to Craz’s dad, who was finishing a call on his cell phone.
“That’s fantastic news,” Mr. Crazinski was saying to someone. “Of course I can make that happen.”
He smiled at Craz and gave him a big thumbs-up. He covered the phone with his hand. “I have news,” he said quietly to Craz. “Big news!” He went back to his call. “That’s right, Mr. Lieber. Next week is perfect.”
While his dad finished his call, Craz’s mom studied the list on the wall and made notes of where all of the teachers would be. Craz could see that Matt was still waiting for his folks to show up, and for half a second he felt bad about how he’d blown off talking. But that feeling passed and was replaced by the hurt and anger, which rushed back in like a hard-hitting wave.
On a normal parent-teacher night Craz only got one parent and could only see two teachers because time was so short, divided among all the Crazinski kids. But thanks to his new, condensed family, Craz had both parents, and unfortunately their undivided attention was laser-beamed on every one of his classes.
First stop was science, where his teacher, Mr. Matthews, echoed the same thing that they were to hear from all of Craz’s teachers. “Larry could try harder in class and I’m sure that would make a difference in his grades, which frankly are quite average.”
“Did you hear that?” Craz excitedly asked his parents once they were back in the busy hallway. “I’m average!”
Mr. Crazinski crossed his arms. “Larry, you really are going to have to buckle down and pull your grades out of this nosedive.”
“Nosedive? My grades are the same as they’ve always been. I’m getting all Cs. B minus in geography. That’s pretty great, right?”
His parents looked at each other. His mom’s smile was a bit too toothy, the way it was whenever she was excited.
“Should we tell him?” Mrs. Crazinski asked in a giddy voice that was on the verge of cracking.
Mr. Crazinski nodded. He put his right hand onto Craz’s shoulder. “Son, you aren’t going to believe the adventure we are about to have.”
Craz stepped back. “Adventure?” Something was definitely up. He looked at his parents and now saw how different they seemed. Since when did his father wear fancy suits? And what had happened to his mother’s disorganized, overflowing pocketbook and mismatched clothes that were always thrown on in a rush? “I don’t think I want an adventure.”
“Sorry, sport,” Mr. Crazinski said with a grin Craz was sure he’d never seen before. “It’s a done deal.”
43
JUST LIKE OLD TIMES
MATT WAITED ALONE BY THE SCHOOL DOORS until eight o’clock. He felt like a major jerk just standing by himself in the school hallway while all the other kids he knew were being dragged around by at least one parent. Finally giving up, he wandered the hallways, sneaking glances into classrooms filled with normal-looking families, and he once again wished for something he didn’t have.
At eight thirty he used his phone to send one final message: WHERE R U!!!?
His phone rang immediately. It was his mom. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry.”
Had she been cr
ying? Matt was pretty sure her voice was a little drippy. “What happened to you guys? It’s almost over.”
And that’s when his mom told him she had spent the entire evening waiting for his father. She had gotten off work early because their plan had been to come to the school together after a quick dinner downtown at a restaurant they both loved. But he kept calling from his office to say he was leaving in five minutes. “And I should know that five minutes is never five minutes. And I should have just left and come to meet you by myself, because your father . . .”
Matt knew the rest. His father was a workaholic. That had always been the problem. Even with his promises, work just consumed him and took over his brain. How many missed soccer games had his dad promised to come and watch? How many family Sundays had he simply skipped?
“It’s okay, Mom,” he said. “Lots of kids’ parents couldn’t come. My grades are fine anyway. And this thing is a huge waste of time. Trust me.”
He listened as she blew her nose on the other end of the phone, and he was mad at his father all over again.
THE RED SPORTS CAR WAS PARKED IN THE driveway, so Matt knew as soon as he stepped off the bus that his father had finally left his office. Maybe everything would be okay, he thought. But walking toward his house, he immediately knew things were bad. He could hear their fight from the street.
“What do you want me to do, Mindy? Take a pay cut?”
“No. I want you to put your kids first, David,” his mother shot back. “And me.”
Matt stood frozen on the front steps. He’d almost forgotten about the cramped fist in his gut that grabbed him when his parents argued this way. He instantly pictured himself much younger, rolled in a tight ball in his bed, humming so he didn’t have to hear the exact words of the fight—just the dull, barking sounds of it. At least he couldn’t remember the last time his stomach felt this way. That was a plus.
“I just don’t understand why the family can’t be as important to you as your job!” Matt’s mom shouted.
“Right. And who would pay for all the nice things? The dinners out? Our vacation to the Bahamas?” his father yelled back.
“It’s not about money!”
“It’s always about money!”
Matt couldn’t face walking through the middle of this battlefield, so he snuck around to the back door and was surprised to see Ricky at the kitchen table. He just sat there tearing a napkin into little pieces and adding the paper bits to a growing pile.
“Déjà vu all over again,” Ricky said as soon as Matt sat at the table. “At least we had a few days of peace and quiet. It was kind of nice, you know?”
Matt let out a long breath. “I know.” He felt the pen digging into his leg in his pocket. Why hadn’t he drawn his father back in the family with a totally different job? Or given him a ton of money? Maybe that would’ve made everything work out better. Maybe he could still fix things by drawing something different.
“And what was that with Ricky and the guitar? You know we had talked about that before.” His mother’s voice was loud and firm. “Why do you always have to swoop in and be the fun parent and make me out to be the bad guy?”
“You know, Mindy, I don’t know how many times we can have the same fight,” the brothers heard Mr. Worfle say from the other side of the wall. “I do the best I can at being myself, and if that means being the fun one, then I’m happy to do it.”
“We’re supposed to be partners, David,” Mrs. Worfle snapped. “It’s starting to feel like we’re on opposite teams.”
“That’s it!” Ricky stood up from the kitchen table. “Time to let my music drown this out.” He turned to Matt before heading to his room. “If I were you, I’d do it too. And turn it up. Loud.”
44
BIG NEWS
WHILE RICKY BLOCKED OUT THE FIGHTING beneath a pair of headphones, Matt escaped the noise by doodling. He sat at his desk, and the angry voices faded behind the random characters that soon filled his page with comforting ease. Getting lost this way was normal for Matt, and so he was surprised when the knock on his door made him realize the yelling had stopped.
“Mom wants us in the living room” was all that Ricky said.
Matt followed Ricky, expecting his mother to look upset because of the blowout with his dad. But, sitting on the couch, she didn’t look miserable like all the other times they’d had their loud fights. Sad? Maybe. But not like she’d been crying, or worse. She stood up when the boys walked in.
“Matt. Ricky,” she began. “Your father and I . . .”
Matt knew what was coming.
She continued. “We decided that we need a break, a little time to figure some things out.”
“So Dad just took off?” Ricky asked. “For good?”
“I don’t really know, Ricky. That’s something he and I need to discuss.”
Matt couldn’t believe his dad had left them again. Well, to Matt it was happening again. For his mother and brother he’d moved out for the first time.
“He didn’t even want to wait to say good-bye?” Matt asked, keenly aware that was exactly what his father had done the first time he’d walked out on them. Don’t second chances ever work out?
Mrs. Worfle let out a long sigh. “Your father loves you guys. Despite how he shows it. You have to know that.”
Ricky shook his head. “Look, Mom. About the guitar—”
“This isn’t about the guitar, Ricky. You didn’t cause this. It’s been brewing for a long time.”
Ricky stared at his sneakers as Matt looked at his mother. The first time his dad walked out, she was a wreck. But now she looked like this was a change she was ready for.
BACK IN HIS ROOM MATT STARED AT THE CARTOON of his happy family. He’d thought he could fix his parents’ problems with his pen and ink, but he guessed even magic couldn’t change something so deeply wrong.
He tossed the cartoon into the trash.
The door opened a crack and Ricky leaned into the bedroom. “Pretty weird night,” he said, looking like he wasn’t sure if he should come all the way in or just close the door. “Look, I was thinking of getting some air. Maybe a quick Dairy Queen run. You in?”
Matt couldn’t remember the last time Ricky had asked him to do anything. “I’m in,” he said, grabbing his coat from his chair. “Totally in.”
45
BROTHERS AGAIN
A SLIVER OF MOON HUNG IN THE AUTUMN SKY above the brothers, who sat on the warped picnic table to the right of the small parking lot. The DQ was a short walk from their house, and during the summer you had to stand in long lines to get what you wanted. But it was already November and they were the only customers.
“Oreo Blizzard,” Ricky said as he scraped a spoonful across his bottom teeth. Even as a kid that’s how he’d eaten his ice cream, and Matt liked seeing that his older brother still did it. “This takes me back.”
“Yup. Nothing like a Blizzard,” Matt said while chewing on a treasured chunk of cookie that he’d unearthed in his cup. “Of course, I think they taste a little better when the weather’s hot.” He pulled the coat zipper up to his neck. “Not that I’m complaining.”
The brothers sat silently enjoying their ice cream. Matt knew that the first time his dad walked out, Ricky had just gotten meaner. He’d barely even tolerated Matt. But something different was happening this time, and even if it didn’t last, Matt was glad to be sitting in the cold, eating Blizzards with his brother.
“So,” Ricky said, tossing his empty cup into the trash can. “This Dad thing. You okay?”
Matt thought about it. “Yeah,” he said. “You?”
Ricky looked up at the slice of moon. He nodded slowly. “I think so.” And then he added, �
��It’s not like there’s anything we can do about it anyway.”
Matt scraped his spoon around his cup and then ate the last bite of ice cream. “Right,” he said. “Nothing we can do at all.”
46
CALLING CRAZ
WHEN THE BOYS GOT BACK HOME, THE LIGHTS were off, so they tried to be quiet tiptoeing into the kitchen. Matt expected it to feel a little weird with his father gone, but then remembered he’d been living without his dad for months. No big deal.
Ricky disappeared into his room, supposedly to do his homework, while Matt opened the fridge looking for something to eat. All he’d had for dinner was the Blizzard, and he wanted something real to top off the treat.
The kitchen light flickered on, and Matt turned to see his mom in her bathrobe. “Hungry?” she asked.
“A little,” Matt said, grabbing a cold chicken leg from a plate and then closing the fridge door.
“Listen, I know a lot is going on tonight,” she said, “but while you were out, I got a call from Craz’s mother.”
Matt felt his face tighten. “So?”
“So,” his mother continued, “she wanted me to tell you. They’re moving. Right away.”
Moving? Matt’s stomach did a backflip. “No way. Craz didn’t say anything about that.” And the anger rose up again. “How long has he known?”
His mother raised an eyebrow in that way that said she knew something she wasn’t saying. “Just call him.”
CRAZ DIDN’T WANT TO TALK TO MATT, BUT WHAT choice did he have when the Skype invite popped up on his computer?
“What do you mean you’re moving?” Matt stared out from Craz’s computer. “When were you going to tell me?”
“It’s not like I was keeping it a secret,” Craz shot back. “Besides, what do you care anyway? Oh, right. I forgot. Without me around, no one’s going to tell you what to do with your life.”
The Awesome, Almost 100% True Adventures of Matt & Craz Page 14