“Rodney, what are you thinking about? You seem out of it,” Rishi said.
He was looking off into the trees trying to figure out what had grabbed my attention.
I wasn’t about to confide in him. “Oh, nothing much. Let’s go home.”
Together we walked along the sidewalk. The streets were empty and the air was still. We were approaching a three-way intersection down the street from my house. Suddenly, something felt wrong.
“Well, look who’s coming,” Rishi said, smiling. I glanced down Clark Street and frowned. Josh and Toby were trudging along with their heads down. Toby looked up and the two of them stopped about fifteen yards from us. This was a potentially dangerous moment and sweat began to run down my rubbery spine.
“Who’s that?” Rishi asked.
“Josh and Toby. Did you go blind?”
“Not them. Over there.”
My eyes turned from Clark Street and looked down the third street that met the intersection. I grabbed Rishi’s arm to keep from falling to the pavement. I couldn’t believe it, but there he was. Rocco Ronboni. He looked meaner than I remembered and bigger, too.
He was shuffling along with his patented strut. A silver NYC flashed on his black sweatshirt and his hair stood straight up on his head like a black porcupine. Seeing me, he stopped walking and gave me a wicked grin.
And there we stood, all five of us. A breeze blew and the sweat on my back ran cold. My eyes shifted from Rocco to Josh and Toby and then back to Rocco.
“Yo, Ratboy. Ya miss me?” Rocco called and walked toward me. “Been lookin’ all over for yuh.” Josh and Toby, their evil noses smelling potential violence, strode up too.
My mouth stammered, “Uh yeah, I thought you were coming tomorrow, though. I was going to throw you a surprise welcome party. In fact, why don’t you turn around and run along. Try to act surprised tomorrow.”
“That mouth of yours still runnin’, huh? So dis is Ohio? Smells bad, like da country. I miss New York already.” Rocco looked over at Josh and Toby. He paused for a moment, taking in Josh’s size. “Dees yuh friends?” he asked me.
“We ain’t friends,” Toby spat.
“No doubt,” Rocco laughed, adding, “I like da looks of yous two. I betcha yous been handing Rodney some beatdowns. But don’t worry. I’m movin’ into this town, and poundin’ dis kid is my job.” Josh looked confused by this, but Toby’s eyes shone as he listened.
Rishi spoke next, and the second he opened his mouth I knew we were in trouble. “Are you like the dumbest kid in New York?” he asked. “No one messes with Rodney Rathbone and gets away with it.”
Boy, is he going to be disappointed in a minute, I thought.
Rocco shifted quickly and got into Rishi’s space. “Dat’s gotta be the funniest thing I ever hoyed. And now, afta I’m done smackin’ him around for old times’ sake, I’m gonna give you a liddle taste of da Big Apple.” He smiled and looked back over at Josh and Toby. Toby was smiling, enjoying every second of this. Josh just looked confused.
Rishi wasn’t done, though. “Like I’m supposed to be scared. I almost feel bad for you! Rodney’s going to tear you apart! Rodney here . . .” he gripped my shoulder for effect.
“Rishi, quiet,” I whispered.
“. . . well, Rodney took out four grown men with his bare hands. And do you know what else he did?”
“Not now, Rishi,” I whispered. I felt real bad knowing what was coming. After watching his supertough friend get beaten up, Rishi would be next. Unaware that he was digging his grave deeper, he kept right on talking.
“The first day of school, Rodney punched out that guy!” Rishi’s finger pointed at Josh.
“Awright, now I’ve hoyed it awl! Dis is one wacky town.” Rocco laughed and strutted toward Josh. “Rodney knocked you out?”
“I broke his nose, too,” I added, trying to get the attention off Rishi.
“Really?” Rocco laughed even harder and slapped his knee. Josh stiffened, but didn’t answer.
Once Rocco gained control of himself, he looked Josh in the eye. Although Rocco was real big, even he had to glance upward to meet Josh’s gaze. “Who are you?” Rocco continued, “the town’s big-boy cream puff? You let him beat you up? You gotta be the biggest wimp I’ve ever seen. What’s your name? Nawww wait, let me guess. Is it Jennifer? Or Marcy? Or . . .”
Rocco didn’t get a chance to think of any other girls’ names. Josh grabbed him with both arms and hoisted him up in the air.
Rocco’s face looked shocked. He struggled but couldn’t escape from Josh’s mammoth hands.
“Ooh, this should be good,” Rishi gasped, taking out his camera.
“Put me down!” Rocco screamed.
Josh said, “Sure.” Walking closer to the curb, he body-slammed Rocco into some garbage cans.
Toby, ever helpful in these situations, said, “Welcome to Ohio,” and dumped garbage from another can onto the visiting tough guy. Rocco eventually scrambled up and ran, crying, down the block while Rishi’s camera clicked away.
Josh and Toby high-fived each other, and I almost joined them, but Rocco had said a lot and I wasn’t in the clear just yet.
The four of us straightened up and squared off. Josh spoke first. “That wimp, he said he used to beat you up. That true?”
“Yeah, right,” Rishi jumped in. “That kid’s obviously got some mental . . .”
“I ain’t talking to you. Rathbone, is it true what that kid said?”
Now, I knew I had only one chance. I rolled my head back and forth and cracked my knuckles. “Why don’t you come over here and find out?” Other than the shaking knees and a sudden urge to wet my pants, the bluff seemed convincing.
“Yeah,” Rishi added. “Why don’t you go over to Rodney and find out!”
Oh great.
“Rodney’s not afraid of anything or anyone!”
Shut up.
Josh stood there thinking, which looked difficult for him. Toby nudged him on, but he shoved Toby off. “Okay. That was enough for one day. Come on, Tobe.”
They walked on by. I could see Toby’s disappointment. Once they had gone a block, I exhaled slowly through my teeth.
“Well, that was fun,” Rishi said, punching my arm. “Let’s go get a snack.”
We headed back to my house. Penny, who was watching her after-school shows on TV, actually put it on MUTE when she saw us. That was a first.
“Did Rocco find you?” she asked. “He stopped here before. He was looking for you.”
“Yeah, he found me,” I told her. “No big deal.”
She looked surprised. “Really?”
“Really.”
Rishi joined the conversation. “And you should have seen Rodney scare off Josh!”
Now Penny looked really confused. “I don’t get it. . . .”
“That’s because you’re still young,” I teased her. “Come on, Rishi. Let’s hit the kitchen.”
• • •
That night, before going to bed, I made a decision. No hiding for me the next day. I didn’t want to miss seeing Josh teach Rocco another lesson, but that was only part of it. Suddenly hiding in the woods seemed kind of dumb, like something you would do if you were . . . well . . . a coward.
Chapter 22
A WORM IN THE BIG APPLE
Rocco never showed up at school the next day. It turns out his mother was outraged by how the local kids had treated her little angel. After months of worry, Rocco wasn’t moving. Maybe everything had worked out perfectly for me. Even my fear of reading in front of the class was for nothing. Mrs. Lutzkraut was out sick for a few days, and by the time she came back we had moved on to other class work.
It was around this time that I finally came to think of Garrettsville as my new true home. Sure, I still missed different things about New York, but one day coming home from school I walked up the steps to my house and accepted the fact that I really belonged here. There was no going back.
“Guess what?” my mom gree
ted me. “You’re going back!”
“To school?” I didn’t know what she was talking about.
“No. To New York! Isn’t that great news?”
In a flash, I pictured Jessica, Rishi, my other friends, and how popular I was at Baber. I had solved every problem. No way was I going back. There was nothing my parents could do. If we were moving again, I’d chain myself to a tree. . . .
“Your birthday’s coming up. Aunt Evelyn has invited you to New York as her guest this weekend to celebrate it.”
“Just for the weekend? Aunt Evelyn?” A flood of relief washed over me. Every spring Aunt Evelyn would take me into the city for my birthday. She would also take Penny for hers, but that wasn’t until August. Now that we lived in Ohio, I had an important question for my mom. “Uh, how am I going to get there for the weekend?”
“You’ll fly.”
“By myself?” The old familiar feeling of panic crept up my spine.
“Yes. After I got off the phone with her I called the airline and they have a program for unaccompanied minors. Dad will drop you off Friday morning and she’ll meet you when you land in New York. You’ll have to miss a day of school, of course.”
The whole thing sounded a bit crazy. I wasn’t thrilled about flying by myself, but I liked the idea of missing a day with Lutzkraut. More important, a whole weekend with my aunt Evelyn could mean only one thing—adventure!
• • •
I couldn’t wait for Friday, and before I knew it the day had arrived. My dad saw me off at the airport. He handed me a cell phone and told me to call when I landed.
Two hours later I was back on New York soil. I made my way down the long airport corridor. Just as I was stumbling off a moving sidewalk, I heard loud music playing up ahead. I continued on, trying to see past the other travelers and get a glimpse of the commotion.
And then I saw her, Aunt Evelyn, waiting for me with what must have been 100 balloons. I ran up to her and gave her a hug.
“You got all those balloons for me?” I asked, shocked.
“Yes, sorry it’s a bit underwhelming. Airport security refused to let the Mariachi band through the checkpoint.”
“Aunt Evelyn, you didn’t have to do that!”
“Nonsense. It’s not every day my favorite nephew visits. Now come here and give me a kiss.”
As we walked through the airport she told me how “ecstatic” and “tickled” she was to see me. She also told me about her latest trip and kept mentioning places like Cape Town, Ulaanbaatar, and Bogotá. “By the way, how was your flight?” she eventually asked.
“Terrible,” I told her. “I’m starving. Dad ate my lunch on the way to the airport and they didn’t serve any food. I couldn’t even have peanuts because the guy next to me was allergic.”
We grabbed my suitcase off the baggage carousel and headed out into the warm spring day. My great-aunt whistled to a passing cab and it immediately screeched to a halt, then backed up to right where we were standing. “Let’s go have some fun!” she shouted as we hopped in the back.
“Do you think we could hit McDonald’s first?”
“McDonald’s? Driver, take us to Fifty-fifth and Seventh and make it snappy!” She turned back to me. “I can’t have my darling nephew hungry.”
A half hour later I was sitting in the Carnegie Deli eating a pastrami sandwich the size of a Cadillac. I could barely fit it into my mouth. My aunt fed me and fed me and when we were done, she rolled me out the door onto Seventh Avenue. “Rodney,” she said, “you’ll have to help me get ready. I’m hosting a dinner party tonight. Let’s walk over to the park and make plans.”
I watched the crowds of people moving through the streets and smelled the heavy, sweet New York City air. I had forgotten how much I loved it. Aunt Evelyn was as excited as ever by life, the whole time talking about who was coming to her dinner and what fun things we could do the rest of the weekend. Suddenly she waved to someone in a restaurant window as we passed. He waved back and threw her a kiss.
“How do you know so many people?” I asked.
“My darling boy, I’ve lived in this town for practically a hundred years.”
I knew she was exaggerating, but I wasn’t sure by how much.
“Now, where was I?” she continued. “Oh yes, I’ve only been back for two days myself. I’d love to see the new Picasso exhibit this afternoon at the Guggenheim, maybe a play Saturday night, of course there’s our annual birthday ballgame tomorrow at one o’clock. I did tell you we were seeing the Mets tomorrow, didn’t I?”
Before I could answer, she was off on some other subject. She was full of energy and interested in everything. That afternoon, my great-aunt and I visited two museums and took a brisk stroll down Fifth Avenue. When we finally got back to her apartment, I put my feet up and wondered how I’d last the whole weekend. As long as I was resting, I decided to give Rishi a call.
“I’m telling you, New York is wild. My aunt Evelyn snuck her Rollerblades into this round museum called the Guggenheim and zoomed all the way down from the top floor. She finally crashed at the bottom into a famous statue by this guy named Rodin.”
“Rodent? Who’d want to see that?” Rishi and I laughed and talked for a while more before his mother told him to hang up and get ready for dinner.
“Listen, Rodney, call me tomorrow,” he whispered. “Also, check your e-mail when you get a chance. I sent you some funny pictures of your friend Rocco. Oh, and I’ve got some big news for you.”
Before I could find out the news, he was gone. I thought about calling Dave or Slim when the intercom in my aunt’s apartment started buzzing. For the next half hour, my aunt’s friends kept arriving for the dinner party, each one dressed funnier and fancier than the next. They were all supernice and I liked them a lot. That is, until Sir Snottingham showed up.
He walked in and I immediately noticed his long white mustache which curled upward at the corners of his mouth. He was wearing a heavy black overcoat and clutching a cane, which he clicked hard on the wood floor. Noticing me, he whipped off his coat and tossed it over my head as if I was a coatrack. I heard him say, “Careful with that. It’s cashmere.” I pulled it off, and for a second we studied each other. “Stop gawking, boy. Aren’t you going to announce me?”
“Who are you?”
He stiffened and asked, “Are you trying to be rude or does it just come naturally? I find it hard to believe that anyone would need to ask that question. I happen to be the most important person at this party.”
I felt my mouth getting ready. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” I turned and yelled into the living room. “Aunt Evelyn, the caterer’s here!”
“Caterer? You call me the caterer? Why I’ve had boys younger than you arrested for less. I . . .”
“Oh, Sir Edward, I’m so happy you could make it. I see you’ve met my nephew,” Aunt Evelyn said as she came toward us.
He seemed momentarily at a loss, and then managed, “What’s that? Your nephew? Oh, I see. Yes, we’ve, uh, met.”
“Rodney, this is Sir Edward Snottingham, former conductor of the Royal Symphony Orchestra in England.”
I reached out to shake his hand. Instead, he dropped his cane into my palm. “Put that with the coat,” he quipped. He turned his back on me and grabbed my aunt’s arm. I dumped his coat and cane on the floor.
Sir Snottingham aside, my aunt’s friends were great. Unfortunately, he made sure he was seated right next to my aunt and spent half the dinner trying to sound important, especially about concerts and Broadway shows and stuff.
“Oh Evelyn, please tell me you’re joking. How could you not have seen the new Death of a Salesman? Victor Johnson is truly excellent.”
“You know I’ve been out of town, darling.”
“Oh, too bad, Evelyn, he’s in it for only one more night. It would be the highlight of the season if we shared the experience together.”
I pretended to stick a finger down my throat. While old Snottingham looked like he
wanted to kill me, I could see my aunt holding back a smile.
“Then it’s settled, Evelyn,” he continued, shooting me a smug little glare. “I will get us two tickets.”
“Of course, we’ll need three,” she pointed out.
“Three?”
“For you, me, and my wonderful nephew here.”
I noticed Snottingham pull on the end of his mustache. “Bloody brilliant,” he muttered.
The next day, after a whirlwind Manhattan morning that included Rollerblading in Central Park and an early lunch in Harlem, things eventually slowed down when my aunt and I arrived at Citi Field, the Mets’ stadium. Orange and blue crowds swarmed around us. We made our way to the right-field gate, my aunt smiling the whole time and saying how much Citi Field reminded her of Ebbets Field, where the Dodgers played when she was young. She then turned to me and asked, “How does it feel to be home, Rodney?”
I don’t think she was just talking about the Mets’ ball field. She was talking about New York, about Queens, about my old neighborhood. I watched a giant jet fly over on its way into LaGuardia Airport.
“It feels good,” I told her.
“Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes, but I like how things are going in Ohio, too.”
She looked into my eyes and gave me a big smile. “That makes me very happy, Rodney.” Then she snapped out of it. “Let’s go see some ball.”
We went in and headed toward the field level. Good sign, I thought. My dad and I usually rode each and every possible escalator all the way to the very top. I was used to being far away, but I was happier still as we headed through the lower tunnel toward the infield. Even though I’d been to a number of games, I still caught my breath as I came out into the light and air. All the green grass spread out in front of me. It was beautiful. I smelled hot dogs and vendors yelled, “Peanuts here!” We continued walking down the aisle passing rows of seats, getting closer to the field. As I passed each row, my excitement grew, and when we stopped, I found we were in the front row.
How to Beat the Bully Without Really Trying Page 12