Middle-School Cool Read online

  “Was that …”

  “… a chest bump? These balls are …”

  “… really arrogant!” They trudged over to the bleachers, where Margo, Victoria, and Sam the pirate had already joined Leo, as had several other seventh graders. Because nobody could sit still and everybody wanted to talk, they were at the mercy of the purple prison guard, which bounced from one head to another in its own personal game of Whac-a-Mole. Only five minutes into the game and the balls were clearly winning.

  Jory and Ruben were the two students able to successfully avoid the onslaught. Because Jory enjoyed jumping from high places, he had lots of experience flinging himself around in ways normal human beings would consider foolhardy. He did so now, tossing himself about, leaping, diving, running up walls, and flipping to evade the balls. Ruben’s skill was his quick hands. No matter how fast the balls came at him, he was able to catch them. He would then stuff them into the net bag, which was the only way they became officially out of play. It was while he was doing this that he discovered another interesting characteristic about the balls.

  “These balls bite!” he yelled as he shook one off his finger back into the net bag. “That’s not fair!”

  “Really? They’re not supposed to bite,” Coach Freeman said. “Clearly that ball has a bad attitude.”

  “Not only that, it has teeth!” Some of the students laughed at this remark, while others tittered nervously, not quite sure if Ruben was making a joke. He wasn’t.

  “Hmm, I guess they would have to, wouldn’t they? But they’re not very sharp. No blood, right?” Coach Freeman didn’t offer much consolation.

  Seven minutes later, seventeen students were sitting in the prison, but thanks to Ruben’s quick hands, there were only three balls left in play. Jory was more exhausted than he’d ever been in his life, having been in constant motion for close to fifteen minutes. And all of the diving and rolling and flipping was making him dizzy. The prisoners wanted to cheer on their classmates, but they were fearful of the very strict purple guard. Most of them had already been bonked in the head enough times that they didn’t want to invite more punishment. All that bonking had also made them unobservant. If anyone had been paying close attention, they would have noticed that besides Jory and Ruben, there was one other student who had not gotten out and was not sitting in the prison bleachers, and that was Edie.

  Because of her carefully honed eavesdropping skills, Edie had found a very good hiding place. She had entrenched herself within a rolled-up gymnastics mat about twenty feet from the bleachers and was biding her time, waiting for Ruben to do all the hard work and for Jory to tire himself out. She checked her watch. There were five more minutes to go. She could hear Jory springing off the wall in his effort to escape the balls and Ruben muttering under his breath every time a ball bit him, which was often. Apparently all of the balls had bad attitudes.

  Sam had figured out that despite their ability to strategize, the balls could only bounce in a straight line; they could not change course in midair. You could predict the speed, direction, and arc of their bounce if you paid attention. The pirate decided that despite certain retribution, he would help his teammates.

  “He be coming at you from behind, me hearty!” the pirate warned, then followed with a loud “Blast ye to smithereens, ye nasty beastie!” after the purple ball swiftly reprimanded him. Feeling sorry for Sam, others took up the duty of warning the two remaining students about which direction the balls were coming from. It didn’t matter that Jory was nuts and Ruben was obnoxious; they were not only human beings but classmates, and the teens wanted them to win. This might not have been the case if they had been playing against cute little puppies, but these balls weren’t cute little puppies. They were vicious and needed to be defeated. Edie heard all of this from the relatively safe confines of her hiding place.

  Two minutes to go. The balls had come up with a wily strategy, picking the boys off one at a time. They first surrounded Jory, bouncing calmly in unison as he swiveled around, his eyes darting from one ball to the other. Then they fell upon him. In his wearied state there was simply nothing Jory could do to avoid them. He executed an amazing backflip-with-a-twist that would have been the envy of any Olympic gymnast, but the three balls overwhelmed him. After the pummeling, he dragged himself over to the bleachers for congratulations from his fellow students and some much-needed rest. Then the three balls turned their attention to Ruben.

  Ruben backed away slowly as the balls rolled toward him. As with Jory, they quickly surrounded him. It appeared from their tiny bounces that they were aiming low, probably figuring that if they got near his hands, they would end up in the net bag. Then, as if a charge had been blown from a bugle, they attacked, zeroing in on Ruben’s ankles. But instead of trying to scoop them up, Ruben surprised everyone by leaping straight into the air and executing an extraordinary pirouette: one, two, three times he spun around, his arms clasped around his body, his toes pointed. Edie watched from her hiding place and almost gasped, which would of course have been a terrible mistake. Meanwhile, the balls had already launched themselves, and since they couldn’t change course, they met right where Ruben had been standing only moments before. They slammed against each other with such force that they exploded outward, hitting three different walls of the gym.

  The students roared, standing to give Ruben a well-deserved ovation. Ruben bowed deeply, all the while keeping an eye on the balls as they regrouped in the far corner of the gym, apparently humiliated by their failure.

  Ruben couldn’t believe he had actually done that pirouette. Not that he hadn’t known he could do it—of course he’d known that; after all, he’d been practicing it over and over and over again until it was nearly perfect. But he had never meant to do it in front of his classmates. It wasn’t the sort of move you’d expect from a tough guy, and he had a reputation to uphold.

  Ruben Chao had always been a big kid. When he was born he weighed twelve pounds. “You nearly killed me!” his mother liked to remind him. “It was like birthing a giraffe!” By the time he could walk, Ruben was already bigger than his sister, who was a year older than him. When he started first grade, he was the size of most third graders. By fifth grade Ruben was so tall people thought he was in high school. The summer before seventh grade he had another growth spurt. When he arrived on the first day of school, he towered over all of his teachers.

  Being a guy of above-average height has its benefits, but there’s nothing good about being a giant. The worst thing was that everyone assumed Ruben was older than he really was. They expected him to be smarter and more mature than a normal thirteen-year-old because they thought he was eighteen. They also figured he must have been held back because he was stupid. This led to the next assumption, that he was so stupid he didn’t know his own strength and would run roughshod over smaller kids. Wary parents were forever shielding their children from him. But Ruben was the one who needed the shielding. Because of his size, kids treated him like a jungle gym. They would rush him, hit him, even climb on him, and he had to just stand there and take it or risk being labeled a bully.

  The other bad thing about being big was that everyone expected you to be strong, tough, and good at sports. Ruben did not particularly like sports. He was not going to like basketball no matter how many times his parents placed a ball in his hands. “You don’t have to like it or even be good at it,” his dad always said. “You’ll have recruiters begging you to just sit on the bench and scare the other team.” Ruben liked volleyball even less. And he hated football. But because he was so super-sized, he was better at those sports than his classmates. His reputation for being athletically gifted was completely false. He wasn’t a jock; he was just huge. And he was getting fed up.

  One day near the end of fifth grade, Ruben was at the park, minding his own business, when three second graders leaped on him and started climbing him, pretending he was Mount Everest. Ruben decided he’d had enough. Picking them off as if removing lint from a swea
ter, he tossed them carelessly to the ground. He didn’t mean to hurt them, but a person falling from any height is bound to get a few cuts and scrapes. Sure enough, the kids got a little bloodied and reported that Ruben had “beat them up,” an outrageous exaggeration. It didn’t matter. His reputation was established.

  At first Ruben was upset at being labeled a bully, but then he thought better of it. He was getting a lot more respect; nobody dared touch him or call him names. Kids gave him a wide berth. It meant that he didn’t have any friends, but he’d never had friends prior to this, so that was an even trade. Every once in a while, he’d trip someone or give somebody a shove just to reinforce his status. He wasn’t very happy, but at least people left him alone.

  The only person who understood what Ruben was going through was his sister, Sally. She saw right through his bully persona; after all, he was a completely different person at home—sweet, gentle, and kind. She felt that living a double life was psychologically unhealthy and that Ruben needed to find his “authentic self.” Sally subscribed to New Age spirituality and liked using the jargon because it made her feel smart. But like most people, Sally had a difficult time seeing beyond Ruben’s athletic build.

  “I don’t understand why you don’t like sports,” Sally had ventured as they passed some kids playing a pickup game of basketball on their way home from Horsemouth Middle School. Ruben had just started sixth grade, and Sally was in seventh. She had already seen how kids avoided her brother and didn’t want him to go through school a pariah. She thought that the bond created by playing on a team with other guys would solve his problems. “You’re an energetic guy, you don’t sit around watching TV or playing video games. And you’re a great athlete. Most people like things that they’re good at.”

  “Actually, I do like sports,” Ruben had answered. “I enjoy being physical. I just don’t like that ‘rah-rah, we’re number one, in your face’ stuff. All that boasting makes me mad, even if I’m on the winning team. I’d rather just work on skills. Why do there have to be winners and losers anyway? I don’t think there’s anything fun about making people feel terrible.”

  After that conversation Sally started looking at her brother a little differently, and she noticed things she hadn’t before. Yes, Ruben was built like a majestic redwood. Yes, he had superhero proportions. Yes, he had an enviable combination of muscle, power, speed, and brute force. But Ruben had even more. He had nimbleness and agility. Balance. Grace. Rhythm. Once Sally expanded her picture of her brother, she realized he had the raw materials of an excellent dancer.

  Not long after that, Sally convinced Ruben to come with her to her dance class. It took three invitations, but finally he had gone reluctantly, agreeing only to watch, not to participate. He knew there were a few boys in her class but had imagined they’d be wearing frilly tutus and prancing around like idiots. He was wrong. There were only four boys, and they wore black leggings, white T-shirts, and black dance shoes, not much worse than what a guy would have to wear if he was on the wrestling team. After the boys and girls warmed up together, the boys split off into their own room. They had a rigorous, athletic workout with a male instructor, Eric, who was slender and slight but barked orders like a drill sergeant, commenting on each boy’s form, style, and skills. Ruben liked him immediately.

  Eric noticed Ruben’s excitement. Sally had already told him about her brother, about his size and build, and so for several weeks Eric had been expecting him. Even though he had been warned, Ruben’s size astounded him. How would he be able to instruct this boy? It would be like trying to teach a bull how to dance. Still, he invited Ruben to join them. Boy dancers were rare, and he wasn’t about to dissuade any boy who had even a mild interest.

  While Ruben changed into his PE clothes and slipped into a spare pair of dance shoes from the lost and found, the other boys snickered, joking about Ruben’s size as he stretched to warm up. But when he started to dance with them, the snickers turned to shocked silence, then impressed murmurs. Not only was Ruben able to keep up with the others, but he had so much stamina and his limbs were so limber that he surpassed them. His leaps were higher; his poses more dramatic. He was a prodigy, a natural. The other boys looked at each other, realizing that he was out of their league. From now on it would be Ruben first and then the rest of them. But Ruben was so much fun to watch, they didn’t care.

  Once Ruben started dancing he became much happier. Thanks to Sally, he had found his “authentic self,” and he had made friends with the other boys in the class. However, it didn’t help his social situation at Horsemouth Middle School. Though there was certainly nothing wrong with ballet dancing, it was definitely an activity more often associated with girls. It would only invite more teasing among guys his age. Ruben decided not to tell anyone. Nobody needed to know what he did on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons. The dance shoes, the black leggings, and the white T-shirt that he kept stuffed in his backpack were his own little secret.

  That was why the pirouette was problematic. He looked at his classmates in the bleachers. Sure, now they were cheering, but once they thought about it and figured out what it meant … then what? Fortunately for Ruben, they didn’t have time to think. The purple ball was vigorously pounding their heads, infuriated by their rowdy team spirit. And now with only one more minute to go, the three red balls flew at Ruben with all the force they could muster, one at his feet, one at his head, and one at his chest. There was no escaping them, no place to duck, and no place to jump. This time it was Ruben who slammed against the wall, directly over the rolled-up mat where Edie was hiding. Or rather, where Edie had been hiding. She had left only moments before Ruben landed with a heavy thud on the thick padding.

  Edie raced to the bleachers, bounding to the top, taking two steps at a time. “Guess what, everyone! You’re all free! Prison break! Prison break!” she yelled. With a gleeful roar all the students leaped back to the gym floor. The purple ball bounced from one empty bleacher bench to another, seemingly unsure of what to do with itself.

  Coach Freeman blew his whistle. “That’s the game!” he announced.

  “Yay! We win!” Edie shouted. The students erupted in joyful screams, high-fiving each other.

  “Whoa, not so fast. Don’t you think you were cheating?” Coach Freeman said.

  “Nope. You didn’t say we had to stay on the court, you said we had to stay in the gym, which I did. You didn’t say anything about concealing yourself, which I also did. We won fair and square.”

  “You make a good argument,” Coach Freeman agreed. “Students win, twenty to three.”

  Edie formed an “L” with her forefinger and thumb as she faced the three agitated balls that had just had their win stolen from under them, and waved it at them triumphantly. “Sorry, losers!”

  “Losers! Losers! Losers!” chanted the students, making the same sort of “L” with their thumbs and forefingers and thrusting them at the balls.

  The balls quivered. They shook. Then they completely lost it. It’s not often that a person gets to see a ball lose its temper. Certainly none of these students had, and in truth, none of them would ever see it again. This was a special once-in-a-lifetime moment. They watched, fascinated, as the balls hurled themselves against the walls in a violent rage, ricocheting from one end of the gym to the other, the speed of their flight increasing from the force of their impact against the walls. Harder and harder they slammed; faster and faster they went. In a final burst of anger, the purple ball crashed through one of the windows near the ceiling, and the three free balls followed, soaring after it. The students heard the smacks from their landing outside, their bouncing sounds moving farther and farther away until they could hear nothing at all.

  Coach Freeman sighed. “Those balls had a very bad attitude.”

  The cannon fired. Class was over.

  ALIYA AND TALIYA’S STORY

  New Form of Discipline

  By ALIYA AND TALIYA NAJI

  Kaboom Academy prides itself on its pro
gressive philosophy, but like all schools, it has rules. Before any of us were allowed to attend, we had to sign the Kaboom Academy Honor Code. Many of you probably did not read it carefully because it was so boring, but we did, and we can tell you that you did not miss much. It basically lists the rules of the school, exactly as you would think. Here they are again:

  1. No cheating.

  2. No stealing.

  3. No damaging school property.

  4. No bullying.

  5. No inappropriate clothing. To be clear, underwear should be worn under your other clothes.

  6. No yo-yos.

  Anyone found breaking these rules will be contacted by Mr. Gruber, the dean of discipline. The punishment is swift and effective but very different from what rule breakers may have experienced in the past. According to eighth grader Jordan Rozelle, a frequent recipient of detention when she was at Horsemouth Middle School, Kaboom Academy’s method is a welcome improvement.

  “At Horsemouth Middle I was forced to write dumb sentences on the board over and over, which is really a waste of everybody’s time and didn’t change my behavior one bit. Writing ‘I will not put gum in other people’s hair’ did not stop me from craving the amazing satisfaction of that particular thrill. But one session with Mr. Gruber and I’ve been cured for good.”

  Nobody knew exactly how the fight began, only how it ended: with the entire cafeteria floor covered in a thin layer of orange Jell-O.

  “We were there …,” announced Aliya.

  “… and we saw the whole thing,” Taliya finished firmly.