“Blue twenty-one!”
“A snake backflipping on a skateboard!”
When the night began, I didn’t think I could last fifteen minutes. But this was so fun I could draw all night. We were having a blast. And best of all, no one at school would have to wear the plain Zorber’s logo on their shirt tomorrow.
“Gold eight!”
“A zombie ninja!”
I also thought that whoever had stolen the plain gold and blue shirts got a raw deal. These would be the ones I’d want to have.
“Blue thirty-six!”
“A pizza-delivery bat!”
Principal Weeks came over and asked if we needed anything. Carlos and I looked at each other. We both had the same answer.
“Nachos. As hot as possible, please.”
CHAPTER 32
The end of the week had finally arrived.
Because I was up so late, my parents let me sleep in a little longer, and I kind of fell asleep in my cereal. Then I remembered that it wasn’t just any Friday. It was
Because this was a day of sports and games, it was one of the rare days when I wouldn’t have my backpack of drawing supplies with me. It made me feel naked.
Mom drove me to school, and when I saw the festive sign, it all came to life for me.
But then I remembered what was in store—not only was I going to be That Guy again, but the whole school knew I was going to be That Guy at the hands of Peter Zorber. My attitude changed completely.
Which Field Day was it going to be?
CHAPTER 33
Have you ever seen a pack of dogs let loose inside a steakhouse?
Neither have I. But I think it would be similar to my classmates’ reactions to the Field Day shirts.
Mr. Vamos, the gym teacher, lined up all the students and handed out the folded shirts one by one. When the first few kids unfolded them, they responded with excitement. They loved them.
And then Mr. Vamos dropped one.
Instinctively, two kids dove for the shirt. They didn’t even know what was on it. One of the kids already had a shirt—he wanted another one. While Mr. Vamos sorted that out, other kids bolted for the carton of shirts that I had drawn. And it became a free-for-all.
In other words, you could say the shirts were a success.
When Mr. Vamos had restored order, he announced that Carlos and I had designed them. There were loud cheers. Everybody on the field was looking at me in awe.
I felt like some people were seeing me for the first time, and not just as that kid they heard being called down to the principal’s office. Not just as That Kid from Field Day last year.
Amanda and Andrea pulled out the special letter-A shirts I had made especially for them.
I had created a special shirt for Carlos, too, which he proudly revealed.
He also showed the back, which nobody understood except for us. And maybe Principal Weeks.
Field Day could have ended right then and it would have been perfect, as far as I was concerned. But we all knew that there was drama to come.
CHAPTER 34
Maybe the biggest surprise of the day happened in the fifty-skard dash.
Skard is the name that was given to a mysterious animal reportedly seen years ago in the woods of Villadale—described as “part leopard and part kangaroo, with the coloring of a skunk.” The animal had run off before the witness could get a second look, and so because of its supposed speed, there was a race named after it.
Shockingly, this year’s winner was Clay. Nobody knew he could run so fast!
Walker Bundt did indeed win the beanbag toss, just barely beating Carlos. Carlos was frustrated. But, like me, he was tired, and because of his personalized shirt, he felt as if he had won Field Day already. We both thought that flipdisc should be a Field Day sport.
I ran the three-legged race and played dodgeball. I didn’t do anything embarrassing. Best of all, Peter Zorber left me alone. But there was still one event to go: the tug-of-Steve.
The tug-of-Steve is similar to a tug-of-war, except that instead of the two teams pulling on a rope and trying to move a flag past a certain point, the rope pullers are trying to move Mr. Trinkle, who perches on a chair attached to the middle of the rope.
Mr. Trinkle reads books (or pretends to), grades papers, writes Post-it notes, and does other ordinary things while the battle is being waged. The joke is that he’s pretending he doesn’t know there’s a tug-of-war going on. It’s funny, and annoying, and it makes you want to yank that rope as hard as you can to see him fall off the chair.
The two teams were tied in Field Day wins, which meant that this event decided everything. And everyone had to participate.
In all tugs-of-war, the bigger and stronger kids think it’s better if they’re in the back, anchoring the rope with their size. So the bigger and stronger kids—as well as the kids who only think they’re bigger and stronger—arranged themselves toward the back, telling the smaller kids to go up front.
Walker Bundt made sure that I was sent toward the front of the Gold Team.
The Blue Team did the same thing. Peter Zorber personally organized the lineup of Blue Team members along the rope until they were arranged according to his satisfaction. Peter Zorber, being one of the bigger and stronger kids, would anchor the back of the rope.
Or, maybe on another Field Day he would have. But today he came right up to the very front.
It would have made no sense, except that I was at the front of the line on the opposite side. This didn’t pass the smell test.
Peter shot me a devious smile as he grabbed the rope. “Is the Gold Team ready?” he asked, looking at me like he had already won.
“You’d better be ready,” said Felipe, who was directly behind me. “No matter who wins, as soon as everybody jumps up and starts celebrating, he’s going to wedgie you.”
“Did he tell you that?” I asked.
“Basically. The entire school knows he’s going to do it.”
My whole body tensed. I should never have come to Field Day. I didn’t want to quit, but I also didn’t want to face my certain humiliation.
I needed my drawing backpack. I wanted to erase everything. This was the moment I had dreaded: it was going to be me against Peter Zorber.
Until it wasn’t.
“We should be at the front, too,” said a voice from just behind me. It was Amanda, with Andrea right behind her. They left their spots at the middle of the line—where Walker Bundt had insisted they stay—and grabbed the rope on either side of me.
“We got you, Baby Bro,” Amanda said quietly into my ear. “We’ll fall on you, sit on you, do whatever we have to do to keep Zorber away.”
“Now we’re ready!” said Andrea.
CHAPTER 35
The tug-of-Steve was epic. We were winning. Then the Blue Team was winning. And then us again. And back and forth it went, amid the deafening cheers of both students and teachers. This felt bigger than a game. This was for my pride. My stressed-out body was full of adrenaline.
The rope was at a standstill for a long time, but the Blue Team eventually seized the momentum. We felt them slowly beginning to pull us in their direction. With a wicked smile pasted across his face, Peter Zorber summoned one last burst of strength. I could feel my legs buckle beneath me and my body start to be dragged in his direction. It was almost like he was willing it to happen.
Finally, with a loud “GRAAAAAAHHHHHH!” Peter seemed to single-handedly start a wave of power that sent Mr. Trinkle sailing over the line and onto their side. The Blue Team had beaten us.
However, Mr. Trinkle had been pulled so forcefully that he landed facedown in the mud, right in the pile of Blue Team bodies, his chair on top of him. Peter Zorber, so eager to do what he had set out to do, immediately leaped up in the air with two fists raised in triumph. Unfortunately for him, his shorts had gotten caught on the corner of Mr. Trinkle’s chair, and they hadn’t joined him in midair.
The Wedgiemaster had pantsed himse
lf in front of the entire school.
He quickly tried to rescue himself, falling down to the ground and wriggling around in an attempt to get his ripped shorts back up to his waist, but the damage was done. He shuffled into the background of the celebration, holding his pants up with both hands.
The Blue Team had won, but it didn’t feel like it. It felt like a victory for the Gold Team. It felt like a victory for every kid who had been given a wedgie. And it felt like a sweet victory for me.
As we began to stand up, all eyes were on Mr. Vamos, the emcee of Field Day. It was his job to crown the Blue Team the winners and give out ribbons and prizes. But as he was about to speak, another teacher came and whispered in his ear. Mr. Vamos nodded and stepped back. Somebody else was going to do the honors.
It was Mrs. English.
CHAPTER 36
“Congratulations to the Blue Team for a hard-fought and thrilling victory!” Mrs. English shouted enthusiastically before handing out first-place ribbons to the Blue Team. When you think of Mrs. English, you don’t exactly think of sports, so the crowd was somewhat puzzled as to why she’d suddenly taken over.
“I have other prizes to hand out, but first I have an important announcement to make.”
There was a long pause and then a sudden mood change. Mrs. English took a deep breath and spoke calmly:
“I’m the person who took the Field Day shirts.”
The alternate shirts were such a success that most people had completely forgotten that the blue and gold ones had gone missing. The rousing crowd was suddenly still, with jaws hanging open. Mrs. English? Really?
“Well, technically it wasn’t me, but it’s someone you might recognize—my son, Ken.” Mrs. English stepped aside to reveal a man who had been standing on the sidelines during Field Day. A man who looked a lot like Mrs. English.
“Without my good glasses, I can’t see the roads well enough to drive. So he’s been driving me to school this week in his truck.
“When I saw the word ‘EXTRA’ on the box of Field Day shirts in the teachers’ lounge, I didn’t notice that the words continued on the side to say ‘EXTRA-LARGE BOX.’ I mistook them for extra free shirts. So, because we needed a temporary home for our hens while we repaired the barn, I told Ken a big box full of soft shirts would do the trick. He came back here on Monday afternoon and took it.”
The confused crossing guard had been right: a guy who looked a lot like Mrs. English, in a truck.
My drawing had also been correct. It all made sense now.
Mrs. English went on. “I only realized my mistake the other day and was so embarrassed. The chickens had been using the shirts, so I had them washed and was prepared to return them today. But after speaking to Principal Weeks and seeing what Elvin and Carlos had done with the shirts you’re now wearing, I knew that you’d like them better. A lot better.” People cheered and clapped, which made me feel great.
Just as she seemed to be wrapping up, Mrs. English added, “And you need to know another important fact: the person who caught us was Elvin Link. Based on a witness’s description, he did this sketch.”
“While all of you were finishing off the school year and looking forward to the summer, Elvin was busy making the school—and Field Day—a better place. That’s why, instead of a prize for Athlete of the Day, I’m giving this shirt to …
“Well, let’s call him Hero of the Day!”
Mrs. English then pulled out a gold T-shirt, one that had been in the original box, and turned it around to reveal the number 1 on the back. “I think you should wear this proudly. Thank you, Elvin!”
I got more high fives that day than ever before.
Carlos found me in the middle of the crowd. “Guess what? Mrs. English just told me that since we worked hard on the shirts, I don’t need to repay her for the glasses.”
“Sweet,” I replied. “And now I also have a number-one shirt!”
“You’ve got a long way to go to catch up to me,” Carlos said.
As I withdrew from the crowd, I noticed Peter Zorber standing by himself. For once, he was the person who looked like he wanted to disappear. I knew that feeling all too well.
I approached him. “I sort of know what you feel like,” I said.
“I’m glad they didn’t make you draw a ‘LOSER’ shirt,” Peter said. “I’d be wearing it right now.”
I’d gladly draw one of those for you, I thought. But I didn’t say this.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk to you,” Peter said. “To everybody.”
“These shirts are incredible, Elvin. I can talk to my dad—I’m sure he’d be happy for you to design a shirt or two that we could sell at the store.”
“I could make you a personalized one,” I offered. “A big Z or something.”
It was the least I could do. After all, he was going into summer vacation as That Kid.
CHAPTER 37
Saturday morning. The pancakes were going to taste extra good, no matter what was in them. I was drawing at the table while my sisters were talking away.
“I’m pretty sure it was tomatoes,” Andrea declared.
“Tomatoes? They looked like polka dots to me.”
They were talking about the pattern on Peter Zorber’s underwear.
“They would have been pretty big polka dots. Maybe they were apples or something.”
“Of course his underwear would be the goofiest of all,” said Amanda.
I stopped my sketching for a minute. “Wait—why did you come and sandwich me yesterday?” I asked Amanda. “Were you trying to protect me from him? I thought he was your crush.”
“I thought so, until I found this,” she said, extracting a long piece of folded paper from her pocket.
“I hadn’t talked to him since before my recital—ahem,” she said, looking sideways at Andrea. “So on Thursday I asked to sign his yearbook. I kind of grabbed it out of his hand before he could think about it. When I thumbed through the pages, this fell out.”
It was The List.
The only blank was next to my name.
It’s almost too bad there wasn’t one more day of school, I thought. This deserved a shirt all its own.
“I don’t care how cute he is,” Amanda said emphatically. “If he’s going to be a jerk, especially to Baby Bro, then forget it.”
“Who even wants to touch other people’s underwear?” Andrea added. “I thought bullies only did that when Mom and Dad were kids.”
“Full pancake rights for everybody today,” Dad said as he dropped a steaming plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of me. They never tasted better.
Mom burst into the house from her usual Saturday run. “Are you ready, Elvin? Mrs. Soto is here to take you guys to The Z.”
Because we hadn’t gotten to go there on Thursday, today was the day. It was even worth missing a few pancakes for.
I ran up to my room to change clothes and thought I noticed Otto facing me, making the shape of the number 1.
If you could give a fish a high five, I thought, I’d be reaching down to Otto right now. But when I looked again, he was back to his normal self.
Another thought crossed my mind as I left my room: A week ago I would have given anything to be in Otto’s world. But right now it felt pretty good to be in mine.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Drew Dernavich is a regular cartoonist for the New Yorker magazine and the recipient of a National Cartoonists Society award. His cartoons have also appeared in many publications including TIME, the Wall Street Journal, Harvard Business Review, the Boston Globe, and the comics anthology Flight. He is the creator of It’s Not Easy Being Number Three. He lives in New York City. drewdernavich.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2020 by Drew Dernavich
Henry Holt and Company, LLC
Publishers since 1866
Henry Holt® is a registered trademark of Henry Holt and Company, LLC
Elvin Link, Please Report to the Principal's Office! Page 6