Trouble with a Tiny t

by Merriam Sarcia Saunders

  I’m dreading it, because I rot at organizing long projects. But I guess the Egyptian stuff is pretty cool. Pharaohs and mummies and pyramids.

  I scout around for Josh and see him lining up at the first bus with Snake, Alex, and Frankie.

  “Josh!” I run toward him, pulling my phone out of my backpack. “I have the picture. Look!”

  “No cutting in line,” Snake says.

  “I’m not cutting. I have the picture of the T. rex.” I hold my phone out for them to see, but Mr. Widelot appears before they can get a good look. His shirt today reads:

  There are 3 kinds of people

  in the world:

  Those who are good at math

  and those who aren’t.

  “Back of the line, Hopper,” Mr. Widelot says. “No phones at school.”

  “But—”

  “Go.” He ushers me away.

  I take my place at the end of the line. A moment later, Lenora walks up with Alicia and a couple of other girls.

  …you can get them at the mall. Everyone is wearing them,” Alicia is saying. “It would look totally cute on you. Instead of…” She gives Lenora a once-over. …you know.”

  Lenora tilts her head, smiling a fake smile. “Sweet. Thanks for that. Gotta go.” She turns her back on the girls and faces me. “So, what’s the plan? Did you tell your mom?”

  I shake my head. “No. She has enough going on. I tried to tell my dad, though, and he totally blew me off. So I have no plan. Nada. Zip.” Nothing except proving to the guys that I’m not lying.

  “Want to sit together on the bus?” she asks.

  I look over at Josh. “Um…”

  Lenora sees where I’m looking and elbows me in the side. “If we’re going to be friends, you can’t care what those cretins think about it.”

  “They’re not cretins.” She doesn’t get it.

  “If you say so,” she grumbles.

  When it’s time to load the bus, Lenora gets on first and plops down in a window seat halfway up. I stand in the aisle by her row. Josh and the rest of the guys are sitting in the way back.

  “West, sit down already.” Lenora pats the seat next to her.

  I slip quickly into the seat. I try not to let my knobby knees touch hers, which means I’m sitting so close to the edge of the seat, I might as well be in the aisle.

  Mr. Widelot claps at the front of the bus to get our attention. “Settle down, eyes front,” he says. “We’re going to be on this ride together for one hour. I expect behavior representative of Mistral Mill students. No monkey business.”

  I tap my fingers on my thighs, bouncing my knees too. An hour is a long time for me to sit in one place with Mr. Widelot waiting to pounce.

  “So… what are our next steps?” Lenora asks after Mr. Widelot takes his seat.

  I shake my head. “I dunno. Last night I did an internet search on magic to see if I could find anything out.”

  “And?”

  I lift my shoulders. “Nothing about a magic pouch or a Madame Zaqar. But it seems like there’s white magic and dark magic. White magic is good. Dark magic is for evil or selfish purposes. I’ve probably already done dark magic a million times. A raging T. rex in your room is pretty dark.”

  “Aw, give yourself a break,” Lenora says. “I bet dark magic is doing bad things on purpose. Like imagining someone’s nose falling off. Or their hair turning purple forever. You know, because you hate them.”

  I picture Cranky Steve with purple hair and no nose. I see the temptation.

  “Uncle Marty signed that card saying he’d never use the magic to do harm. We probably should make our own sort of code for it.”

  “What do you mean, a code?” Lenora asks.

  “We need rules, so I’m not tempted to do something bad with it, like Thor said. Like what if one day I lose it on Mr. Widelot and decide to create a giant robot that smashes his house?”

  Lenora twists her lips. “I suppose.”

  “There must be a way to control the magic. And once I figure it out, who knows what my brain might do. That’s why I need a code. The first rule is that I won’t ever touch the pouch unless I clear it with you first.”

  Lenora shrugs. “Deal. But once you learn to control the magic, what are you going to do with it? You know, that isn’t dark?”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.” But that gives me an idea. “Maybe I could make something for you!”

  “Me? Really?”

  “Sure. After all, you’re helping me. What can I bring to life for you?”

  Lenora wrinkles her forehead. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think. What would you wish for? Other than a flesh-eating reptile.”

  “Aren’t you hilarious.” I think about Mom last night, how sad she seemed. How we might have to move. “Money, I guess.” Then it hits me. “Wait, no. A new brain. A good one.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lenora asks. “What’s wrong with your brain?”

  “This one has ruined my life. It makes me annoying, makes me say things without thinking, doesn’t stop me from spacing out and missing passes. All my friends are mad at me because of it.”

  Lenora looks at me. “Geez, West. All your friends?”

  I pause, then hit myself on the head. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. A better brain wouldn’t have let me say that.”

  She shakes her head. “You don’t need a better brain, silly. You just need to stop being so hard on yourself.”

  We fall silent for a while. This is going to be a long ride, so I pull out my sketchpad and pencils.

  “What are you doing?” Lenora asks.

  “What’s it look like?” I ask, pulling out a colored pencil.

  “You draw?” she exclaims. “Are you any good?”

  I shrug.

  “My mom was a good artist,” she says.

  Of course she was. Seems like Lenora’s mom has done everything there is to do in the world. Which is good, I guess, seeing as how she left it early.

  I side-eye Lenora. I wonder what that would be like. Not to remember my mom. To only have a dad and a mean grannie.

  I think it would rot.

  “Will you draw me something?” she asks.

  I scrunch my lips. I don’t usually do that. Someone might ask for flowers or a rainbow or baby unicorns.

  “Depends,” I reply. “What do you want?”

  Lenora crinkles her nose. “How about… a woman holding a little girl’s hand?”

  My point exactly. “Can they be running from a giant man-eating alien shark?”

  She taps her fingers to her lips. “Well… I guess that’s okay.”

  So I start drawing.

  Occasionally Lenora points out the window at a cool car or asks me stuff like what other pets I’ve had or if I’ve ever been to Disneyland. Mostly I draw, and she stares out the window as the bus rushes down the highway. Every now and then, the bus jolts, and I slam into her.

  Awkward.

  After a while, I realize Lenora is watching me. I can feel her gaze, which is weird because no one has ever stared at me while I draw. But in this case, I guess I don’t mind the attention.

  “You’re freaky focused while you draw. Like, you’re not moving or bouncing or anything,” Lenora says.

  I lift my pencil from the paper. “Yeah. Because I like it. I’m deciding what color to use, what shape to put where. Whether the eyes should be bigger or farther apart. I can stay really focused when I draw.”

  “Huh. Who knew?”

  I go back to drawing. When I finish, I tear the sheet out and hand it to her. “Here.”

  “Whoa. West, you’re even better than your uncle!” Lenora’s mouth hangs open. “The girl totally looks like me—like that’s my nose and my exact hair color.” She points. “And how did you remember al
l those details from the alien shark?” She looks at me like we’re meeting for the first time. “Can I keep it?”

  I shrug. “If you want.” I put my drawing stuff away, but after a few minutes of nothing to do, I start to get bored.

  “Doo-do-dooo. Doo-do-dooo,” I say under my breath, tapping my knee. “Doo-do-dooo.” I add a bouncing leg. “Doo-do-dooo.” This goes on for a few minutes while my mind pings around, bored.

  Lenora reaches down and squeezes my knee tightly. “You have to stop!”

  “What?”

  “The bouncing. The doo-do-doo-ing. Can’t you just sit still?”

  Here we go. I’m driving her crazy. Like I drive everyone crazy, apparently. Probably should have kept drawing.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t say sorry. Just stop,” she says.

  “Okay. But it’s just going to start up again in like two seconds. I can’t make it stop.”

  “Of course you can. That’s nuts.”

  I inhale and look away. “You don’t understand.”

  “What’s not to understand?”

  “Vacation Brain. It doesn’t let me stop, which is why I’d like a better one. It’s like if I can’t bounce my knee or make a noise, a rumbling pit of lava will explode out of my mouth, eyes, and ears.”

  “Wow.” Lenora pauses, then taps my knee. “You can bounce it then. I don’t mind.”

  I tilt my head back and raise a brow. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I don’t want lava all over my shoes.” She smiles. “I’ll bounce with you.” She slams her sneakers into the bus floor like she’s running in place. “Come on.”

  She slaps my knee, and I join in her thumping. No one’s ever let me bounce my knee. Or joined me. Not even Mom.

  The kids sitting in front of us whip around and dart an evil look. “Quit it,” one of them hisses.

  Lenora and I explode into giggles and slink down in our seats. I can’t believe Friendship Group actually worked for once. Lenora is fun.

  I sit back up and something hits the back of my cap. “What the?” A piece of popcorn lands in the aisle by my feet. Then another hits my neck.

  I turn around. “Who’s doing that?”

  Snake and Alex are in the last row, looking out the window, and Josh is reading a comic book, but they all are trying hard to stifle grins.

  I face forward again, but a moment later, popcorn hits Lenora’s ear. “Hey!” she exclaims.

  Then come the whispers.

  Someone starts low with “West and Lenora, sitting in a tree” in a sing-songy voice. Unmistakably Frankie’s.

  Then Alex chimes in. “Hey, Lenora. Has he hit you in the face with a basketball yet?” he calls.

  This brings the back of the bus to its knees. Mr. Widelot doesn’t even turn around to shush them. He’s probably listening to an algebra podcast.

  Lenora’s cheeks darken, and her lower lip curls.

  I spin around in my seat. “Not funny, Alex. And I didn’t hit Snake in the face.”

  “Settle down back there!” Mr. Widelot hollers with a pinched face. “Hopper, face forward.” Oh, sure, now he turns around.

  I slump back down. “Sorry,” I whisper to Lenora.

  She just shrugs it off. “Not cretins, huh?”

  We’re silent again for a while. I bounce my knee some more.

  And she just lets me.

  THURSDAY—AT THE MUSEUM

  Lenora and I file into the museum behind our classmates. The tour guide gathers everyone, all eighty of us, in a big room, and, in a squeaky voice that echoes off the walls, explains what we’re about to see and what the rules are.

  I’m standing in the back by this freaky-looking mummy. He’s all wrapped up in dirty bandages, except for the lower half of his face, and his gray teeth stick out of his rotting gums in a wide, fleshy smile. He’s totally creeping me out, so I nudge Lenora to move to the right, where there’s more air.

  …artifacts are on display. But even though they’re not behind glass…” the tour guide drones.

  Josh is clear on the other side of the group. I’ll have to make my way over to him once we start walking so I can finally show him the T. rex picture.

  …over the rails or touch in any way, you will set off the alarm. Everyone got it?” the tour guide asks.

  Everyone nods, including me, even though I have no idea what she said. Which is seriously a shame because two seconds later I lean back on the railing, and piercing alarm bells go off.

  Everyone jumps, and Mr. Widelot is on me like a shot.

  “Hopper!” He grabs my arm and pulls me away from the exhibit.

  “What’d I do?”

  Lenora’s hands fly to her ears to block the sound, and she looks like she’s about to burst with laughter. She manages to hold it in, but no one else does. My cheeks burn with embarrassment.

  “You did exactly what our tour guide just said not to do.” Mr. Widelot’s head looks like a dodge ball about to explode as he points to the large sign hanging on the railing, right where I was standing.

  Caution: Sensitive alarm.

  Do not lean over railing.

  “If you were paying attention, you’d know that,” he hisses.

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  Betting he wishes I had forgotten that permission slip right about now.

  After a security guard checks to make sure I didn’t swipe any ancient artifacts, the alarm finally stops ringing. Everyone turns to follow the tour guide to the first exhibit.

  I manage to stay mostly out of trouble for the rest of the morning. But every time I have an opening to get to Josh, Lenora pulls me toward some freaky object, or Snake moves in on Josh with a joke or something. I’m beginning to feel like a stalker.

  At lunchtime, we’re directed to picnic tables in a shaded area outside the museum. Lenora grabs a spot at a table where Evan and Marjorie from Friendship Group are sitting. I stand there holding my lunch bag. A few feet away, Josh and Snake sit down at the base of an oak tree. There’s plenty of room to sit near them.

  I tap my heel against the pebbly ground. “Um. I’ll be right back,” I tell Lenora, inching toward the guys.

  “Where are you going?” she asks.

  I don’t answer.

  “Oh, great,” Snake says as I approach.

  I plop down on the dirt next to Josh. “Hey. I have the T. rex photo.” I pull my phone out of my backpack and turn it on. I spy around the yard to make sure no teachers, especially Mr. Widelot, can see.

  “Really?” Josh asks, taking a bite from his sandwich.

  My phone powers up, and I flick to my photos. I only have one shot—the one I took just before my phone died. It’s a little blurry, but you can totally tell that it’s a T. rex.

  “Here, see? That’s my room. And that’s a T. rex.” I point to the screen.

  Josh takes the phone from my hand and brings it closer to his face. “Let me see.” He pinches outward to enlarge the photo. “Hmmm.”

  “I told you. A T. rex.”

  “What’s it doing?”

  “Coming out of my closet. That’s where I keep it. Otherwise it attacks.”

  “Gimme that.” Snake leans in and takes the phone from Josh. “Don’t be dense. That’s fake.”

  “It’s not fake,” I say. “I swear.”

  “It is kind of blurry,” Josh says.

  “I would’ve taken a video, but my battery died,” I explain.

  “That’s a plastic T. rex,” Snake insists.

  “It’s not plastic. It’s blurry because it moved. Could a fake T. rex move?”

  Josh shrugs.

  Snake makes a face. “No, but you know what else can’t move? Any T. rex. Because they don’t exist anymore. Anywhere.” He chucks the phone straight at my face, and I barely manage to catch it before it
hits me in the eye.

  “Hey, watch it,” I say. “Come over, Josh. See for yourself.”

  Josh scrapes at the dirt with the side of his shoe. “No, man. Can’t. Basketball.” He shoves another bite into his mouth and nods his chin at Alex, who’s waving them over. “Alex wants us to sit over there at that table.”

  Without another word, he and Snake get up and turn away from me.

  “Wait. I’ll prove it.” I reach into my backpack and pull out the wooden box, opening the lid to reveal the red pouch inside. “I brought the magic pouch I used to make the T. rex. I can make anything you want. Anything!”

  That gets their attention.

  Snake hits Josh on the arm and smirks. “Gee, Hyper, like what? Can you make yourself disappear?”

  Josh actually laughs at that, which stabs my heart a little.

  I ignore Snake. “I’ll make something for you, Josh.”

  Josh shrugs. “I dunno.” But then Snake whispers in his ear, and Josh says, “Make a three-headed tree frog?”

  “Okay!” I put my hand into the box, on top of the pouch, and think of a three-headed tree frog. This is going to be so cool. The guys are going to die when they see it.

  I pop open my eyes and pull out the pouch. It’s empty. I squint in frustration. What the heck?

  “I figured.” Snake pulls on Josh’s shirt. “He’s a fake. Let’s go.”

  They turn and leave. I feel like throwing the pouch on the ground. Why didn’t it work this time? I shove the wooden box into my backpack, then drag myself back to the table where Lenora sits. I drop my stuff on the ground and throw myself onto the bench.

  “What are you doing, West?” Lenora leans over the table and whispers, so Evan and Marjorie can’t hear. “Did you just try to make something for them? What about the code we just came up with? That you wouldn’t touch the pouch without asking me first? That was your idea.”

  I shrug and look at the ground. “They wouldn’t believe me, so I panicked. It didn’t work, anyway.”

  “Who cares if those dipwads believe you?” She points in their direction.