Warp Speed (9780545543422)

by Yee, Lisa

  Just then, Mr. Jiang screams and falls out of his chair. Instantly, Max sprints over. “Mr. Jiang, can you hear me?” she shouts.

  Mr. Jiang nods. He’s curled up on the floor. His face is contorted like he’s in a lot of pain. “It … it hurts,” he groans.

  Max looks up and barks, “Patrick, call the main office on the room phone. Troy, run to the office in case Patrick can’t get through. Marley, Ramen, clear a path from the door to Mr. Jiang for when help comes.” When we all remain frozen, Max shouts, “NOW! DO IT NOW!”

  Troy takes off running and Patrick picks up the room phone and starts punching the numbers. Ramen and I start moving AV equipment and tables. Mr. Jiang is still moaning. “It’s going to be all right,” Max assures him. “We’re getting help.” She flips open her cell phone and dials.

  “You’re not supposed to use your cell phone during school,” Ramen cautions her.

  Max glares at him with such defiance that he slaps both hands over his mouth.

  “I’m fine,” Mr. Jiang gasps. He’s pale.

  “You look awful,” Ramen tells him.

  “Help is on the way, Mr. Jiang,” Max says. “Just focus on breathing.” Her voice is calm. How can she stay so calm? My heart is racing and I feel helpless.

  Suddenly, Principal Haycorn and the school nurse burst through the door. Patrick puts down the room phone. “I was trying to call you,” he explains. “But I didn’t know the number.”

  Max, Ramen, and I step aside so the adults can get to Mr. Jiang. The nurse takes one look at him and says to Principal Haycorn, “Call 9-1-1. He needs to be in a hospital.”

  Max steps up. “I’ve already called 9-1-1, they’re on their way.” She looks at me. “Marley, go outside in front of the school so you can direct them to this classroom.”

  I take off running. Just as I get to the sidewalk, the ambulance shows up with the sirens on. The paramedics grab a stretcher and follow me as I race back to Mr. Jiang’s room. The AV Club guys stay out of their way as Mr. Jiang is carried out. Then we follow the paramedics outside and watch helplessly as the ambulance roars away with our teacher inside.

  I couldn’t sleep all night, I was so worried about Mr. Jiang. What if he’s dying? What if he’s dead? I’ve never known anyone who had to ride in an ambulance before. Mom tried calling the hospital, but they wouldn’t give out any information.

  I skip breakfast and head directly to Principal Haycorn’s office. Max is already there. Troy, Patrick, and Ramen all arrive at the same time.

  “He’s going to be just fine,” Principal Haycorn assures us as he adjusts his bow tie in the mirror behind his door. There’s a terrible smell in his office and I try not to gag. That’s when I spot a bottle of Mantique cologne on his bookshelf. “His appendix ruptured,” Haycorn tells us. “Mr. Jiang will be in the hospital for a couple days, then he’ll be home recovering for a week or two.”

  The worry washes off of everyone’s face. Patrick keeps blinking like he’s trying not to cry. Then I start blinking a lot too. Mr. Jiang is the nicest teacher I’ve ever had. In fact, he’s more than a teacher. He’s like a real human being.

  “Which one of you called 9-1-1?” Principal Haycorn asks. We all point to Max, who’s standing in the corner sobbing. “Smart thinking,” he says as he passes her a tissue box. “You’re a real hero.”

  Max wipes away her tears. “I’m just glad he’s going to be okay.” She takes a tissue and blows her nose so loud that it sounds like a Mack truck backfiring. Normally, that’s the sort of thing that we’d all make fun of. Today, no one says anything.

  At lunch Ramen reenacts the time his father had a heart attack and his mother took him to the hospital emergency room. However, it wasn’t a heart attack at all — the diagnosis was heartburn.

  “I’m not giving up my jalapeños!” Ramen starts yelling, imitating his dad.

  I’ve seen this show before, so instead I watch Max sitting alone on the back stairs outside the auditorium. Except for her electric blue shoelaces, she’s wearing all black. If she sees me, she doesn’t let on.

  I take a deep breath.

  “Hey,” I say as I approach. Max looks up from her taquitos. “Mr. Jiang was lucky you were there.”

  Max just nods.

  There is a long silence between us.

  “I’m sorry I thought you were a boy. Really.”

  “You hurt my feelings, Marley,” Max says. “First by not even noticing I’m a girl, then by saying all that thoughtless stuff.”

  “I know, I know,” I groan. “I said a lot of boneheaded things.” She doesn’t reply, but instead, just stares right at me. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. What more does she want? I’ve already said sorry. Max is so sensitive. When kids make fun of me or say mean things, I just ignore it. It doesn’t bother me. Well, not that much.

  “What do you want me to do?” I finally ask.

  Max thinks this over. “I don’t know. Not be a jerk, I guess.”

  I don’t consider myself a jerk. Digger, Stanford, the Gorn — now those are jerks!

  I shrug. “I’ll try,” I say. “Hey, you were great yesterday. None of us guys knew what to do.”

  Max lets out a long sigh. “I’ve seen something like that happen before, only it wasn’t appendicitis, it was a heart attack. Everyone was so shocked that it took forever for someone to even call 9-1-1.”

  “Did the person live?” I ask.

  Max looks incredibly sad. For the first time I notice how small she is. “No,” she says softly. “My dad died.”

  Neither one of us moves. Finally, we hear Ramen shouting, “Hey, you nerf-herding bantha poodoo, stop playing statue and come join me. I’m lonely!”

  Both of us let out some nervous laughter as he continues to hurl Star Wars insults our way. Then I help Max gather her lunch and we head back to the shade of the Tragic Tree, and the broken bench, and Ramen, who is waiting for us.

  “How did you know what to do? You were amazing, like on that reality show, Help, Someone Save Me!”

  Ramen won’t stop quizzing Max as she tries to eat her sandwich. It looks like a car ran over it, but she claims that Cuban sandwiches are supposed to be flat.

  “I would have just froze,” Ramen tells her.

  “You did,” I point out.

  “So did you,” he shoots back.

  I want to tell Ramen to shut up, but he won’t. So instead, I try to change the subject. “Who do you think will be our AV teacher while Mr. Jiang is away?”

  “Haven’t you heard?” Ramen says between slurps of noodles. “We have to take Mrs. Wilder’s class.”

  “What?!” I shout. “Noooo, not that!” I kick the Tragic Tree, then instantly feel bad, both for the tree and for my foot, which now hurts.

  “Not what?” Max asks.

  “Wilder teaches sixth-period Home Sciences,” I explain. Max looks stricken. “I know! It’s going to be torture. Hey, can you teach Ramen and me how to program the LED board?”

  “Oh, the LED board,” Max says. “I’m sorry for what I put on it. I was trying to be funny.”

  “What was funny?” Ramen asks. “ ‘Go, Tiggy’?”

  “It was sort of rude,” I tell her.

  “What was rude?” Ramen asks. “The tiger? Max, did you make it do something rude?”

  “It was pretty bad,” Max admits.

  “What? What?” Ramen asks. “Was there a boy on the LED board? Ohmygosh, did Tiggy eat the boy? He ate the boy, didn’t he?”

  “I had tried to tell you I was sorry,” I tell Max. “You didn’t need to say that thing on the board about me.”

  “What thing?” Ramen asks. “What did the board say?”

  I turn to him. “Max programmed it to say ‘Marley Sandelski is a loser.’ ”

  “Is that all?” Ramen looks disappointed. “We already knew that.”

  “Are we even now?” Max asks.

  I laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  After school I stop by Sweeteria. I watc
h as the lady scoops my mint chocolate chip ice cream into the cone. She looks like a grandma. Sometimes she gives me a double scoop, but only charges me for a single. I always make sure to thank her for it.

  The bell on the door rings and I turn around in time to see the Gorn slither into the shop. I’ve never seen one of them alone, or even two of them without the third. They must do everything together, from getting the same haircuts — well, shaved heads — to wearing the same football jerseys and jeans. Heck, they even have the same dumb swagger. I guess brothers are like that. They all wave to me and blow kisses while I watch them slip some candy bars into their pockets. The bell on the door rings as they leave. Their stealing spree must have taken less than twenty seconds.

  “Is there anything else I can get you?” the ice-cream lady asks as she hands me my cone. The bun on the very top of her head makes it look like she’s balancing a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

  I shake my head and pay, being sure to thank her. Before I go, I leave an extra two dollars by the cash register. It’s all I have. It won’t cover everything the gruesome Gorn got, but at least it’s something.

  I head home. It’s Friday. You would think there would be no homework on Friday, but nooooo, I have math worksheets and that stupid family essay, both due on Monday. Why do teachers do that? Do they think we don’t have a life? Things to do? Places to go? Suddenly, I remember that I don’t have anything to do, or any places to go. I don’t have a life. Then I think about Mr. Jiang. I hope he gets better soon.

  Last year, I drew a picture of Mr. Jiang in my old Captain’s Log. I made him a crew member of the Enterprise, not a guest star. He’s that cool.

  When I get home Dad’s climbing down the ladder. He changed the marquee for the Saturday matinee. “Hey, Marley!” he calls out.

  I rush up to him and give him a long hug. He hugs me back. “What’s this all about?” he asks.

  “Just happy to see you,” I tell him.

  “Digger, please stay after class.”

  I stop and pretend to tie my shoe so I can listen in. “I just don’t understand,” Ms. McKenna’s saying. Today she’s wearing green Converse with plaid socks that match her scarf. “Digger, you do so well on your homework, but your quiz and test scores aren’t very high. Do you have anxiety when you take a test?”

  “I guess so,” Digger mumbles. He runs his fingers through his hair and it stands up straight like he’s been electrocuted. “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Well,” Ms. McKenna smiles broadly, “I have just the thing for that! Here’s a little warm fuzzy. This will help calm you down and send you good vibes.”

  Digger leaves, clutching something in the palm of his hand. I follow him. He stops at the dented metal trash can in the hallway before moving on. Resting on top of the garbage is a small yellow fluff ball with googly eyes and cardboard feet. It must be Digger’s warm fuzzy. I scoop it up and slip it into my pocket.

  “Looking for lunch?” asks a familiar voice. I turn around as students scatter. The Gorn are rumbling toward me like dump trucks. I take off running, weaving in and out of clumps of kids. They follow me. Some girls scream as we push past them. Most just step aside. They’ve seen this before. They know the dance. As I near my destination, I don’t bother to slow down. Instead I burst through the door and skid to a stop.

  Everyone looks up from behind sewing machines.

  “Ah,” the ancient-looking teacher says. “You must be Marley. You’re late. I’m Mrs. Wilder — welcome to Home Sciences.”

  She motions toward an empty seat. I sit, still panting. The girl next to me whispers, “Hi, Marley, my name is Emily Ebers!”

  I nod and look around for the rest of the AV Club. They’re scattered around the room and none look happy. Mrs. Wilder honks a bicycle horn to get our attention. “Class, eventually, we will use the sewing machines. But since we have Mr. Jiang’s Technical Sciences students as our guests for the next couple of weeks, I’ve decided to deviate a little from our lesson plans. Everyone, please pair up.”

  Automatically, I start to head toward Ramen, but the girl next to me taps me on the shoulder. “Marley, would you be my partner?”

  I stop. A girl wants to be my partner? I look around the room to see if this is a setup. Maybe someone paid her to ask me, and if I say yes the whole class will break out laughing. One time in elementary school a boy offered me a cookie. When I bit into it everyone started howling because it was a dog biscuit. I didn’t want them to know how upset I was, so I ate the whole thing and pretended I liked it. Later, I threw up.

  But this girl looks sincere, and she isn’t offering me any food. Instead, she’s smiling and waiting for my answer. “Luq,” I blurt out. Shoot! Why am I speaking Klingon? “Uh, I mean, yes, okay, I’ll do it,” I stammer.

  Just then, both Ramen and Max appear. “Hi, I’m Emily,” the girl says to them. “Marley’s going to be my partner!”

  Ramen looks at her, then at me, then back at her. His eyes widen as he breaks into a smile. “Way to go,” he whispers loudly. I try to ignore him even though he keeps nudging me.

  “Hi, I’m Max and this joker is Ramen,” Max explains to Emily.

  I look at the both of them standing side by side. No wonder I thought Max was a boy; she’s not like Emily, who’s all girl-like. Emily has long brownish blonde hair that curls at the ends, and she’s wearing a dress. Plus, she’s got a green necklace on and dangly earrings. Just by looking at her you can tell that Emily Ebers is a girl.

  Max turns to Ramen and slaps him on the back. “I guess we’re stuck with each other. Come on, Wookiee, let’s sit down.”

  Neither Troy nor Patrick have partners. They look at each other and shrug. Mrs. Wilder toots her horn again. “It looks like everyone’s paired up. Okay! Well, I have something very special planned. You’ve all seen the show Project Fashion Designer, right?” Emily is nodding. “Well, we’re going to have our own version with a runway show and actual judges!” Mrs. Wilder is so fired up by her own announcement that she starts clapping. Are teachers everywhere this weird, or is it just my school?

  Some of the girls in the class start to talk excitedly. The AV Club members look like they’ve been struck mute by phasers.

  “This should be fun,” Emily says, turning toward me. “I’m glad you agreed to be my partner, Marley. I’m new to Rancho Rosetta.” She has a really big smile. Plus, her eyes sparkle. I quickly look away. She’s so pretty that it hurts to look at her.

  Emily doesn’t seem to notice that I’m picking at a hole in my jeans. I’m glad I’m sitting down so she can’t see that my pants are way too short. She keeps talking. “Project Fashion Designer is one of my favorite television shows. What’s your favorite TV show?”

  “JIyajbe,” I say.

  Stop. Speaking. Klingon.Gotta get a hold of myself.

  “I mean, uh, um, Star Trek,” I mumble. “I like Star Trek: TOS. That means The Original Series. QaStaH nuq?”

  “Oh! Is that the show where the women wear those cute minidresses and have their hair in updos?”

  “HISlaH! Um, that means, yes. You don’t happen to speak Klingon, do you?” I ask meekly.

  “Marley, Emily, face front, please.” Mrs. Wilder peers over her horn-rimmed glasses. They look like my Benjamin Franklin ones. I wonder if she was his teacher too? She certainly seems old enough.

  As Mrs. Wilder starts scribbling on the board in that uptight teacher handwriting they all have, a wad of paper hits me in the head. I turn around. Ramen gives me a thumbs-up. I try not to grin. We both know I’ve hit the jackpot with Emily.

  Class is going by pretty fast. My heart keeps racing. I’m hyperaware that there’s a cute girl sitting next to me who doesn’t hate me. Emily smells good, like soap or sunshine or something. I try to be stealth as I sniff my armpit. Maybe I should use deodorant, especially since the Gorn have been chasing me even more lately.

  The bell rings. Emily stands up. She’s almost as tall as me. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Marley. I
look forward to being your partner!”

  Suddenly, I am aware that I’m wearing my Spock shirt with the spaghetti stain. I put my hand over the stain, but now it looks like I’m saying the pledge of allegiance. “Affirmative,” I say.

  As I watch Emily leave the room, Ramen and Max join me. “She’s new to the school,” I tell them.

  Ramen makes kissy noises in my ear. I shove him away. Max shakes her head. “What’s the big deal about her?” she asks.

  “Girls who are new are always interesting,” Ramen says as he watches Emily leave.

  “I’m new here,” Max reminds him.

  “Then I take it back,” he says.

  Max bristles. “Can one of you please explain to me what guys think makes a girl attractive?”

  Ramen and I are silent as we mull this over. He speaks first. “Well, she’s gotta be hot.”

  “Define ‘hot,’ ” Max demands.

  “It’s, you know, hot,” Ramen says. “Nice looking. Nice hair, nice skin, and she has to smell nice —”

  “Smile,” I add. “She has to have a great smile.”

  “… no visible scars or oozing wounds or anything,” Ramen throws in. “And tall. I like my women tall. Like a supermodel tall.”

  “I don’t care how tall the girl is,” I say, “but she needs to have a good appearance, like she cares about how she looks. She can’t be a slob.”

  “This coming from you?” Max says, laughing. “You’re a slob. Your hair’s so shaggy I can’t even see your face, and you slouch when you walk.” When Ramen starts snickering, she turns to him. “And you, you’re a short Star Wars geek, but you like hot supermodels with no wounds?”

  “Yeah, so what?” he says defensively. “What do you look for in a guy?”

  Max hesitates, then tells us, “He’s got to be confident, and smart, and funny. It doesn’t hurt if he looks great. You know, good hair, clean, strong jaw, nice eyes, killer physique …” As she goes on and on, I feel myself shrinking. Great. It’s official. No girl will ever be interested in me.