Big Mouth by Deborah Halverson Page B

invented hamburgers should get the Nobel Prize.”
    “No way,” I protested. “The inventor of pizza should get it.”
    “Over my dead body,” Leonard cried. “Ice cream wins, hands down.”
    “No,” I countered. “It can’t—”
    “Don’t you argue with me, Thuff Enuff.” He cut me off. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. The way you trained with that ice cream yesterday…I don’t know how you didn’t puke from it all.”
    Lucy’s eyes snapped up from her salad. “Ice cream training?”
    Gardo nearly choked on his burger.
    “Yeah,” Leonard said. “Didn’t he tell you? He totally pigged—
ow!
” The whole table jolted as he grabbed his leg and glared at Gardo.
    Nice shot, Gardo.
    Lucy drilled me with her eyes. “Shermie? What’s he talking about?”
    “Leonard is an idiot,” Gardo said quickly, returning Leonard’s glare. “He’s got Shermie confused with someone else.”
    It was no use. Once Lucy sank her teeth into something, she didn’t let go. “Shermie…”
    Leonard and his big mouth.
I wracked my brain for an answer that wouldn’t get me killed. What did a guy have to do for a little divine intervention around here?
    “Out of the way,
scrub,
” a voice boomed across the cafeteria.
    My stomach seesawed.
Shane.
His kind of intervention was far from divine.
    But at least he got Lucy’s eyes off me. She and the rest of the Plums couldn’t help but watch as the ninth grade king strode toward his table with Gabriella Marquez, the hottest eighth grader in the whole school. Gabriella was wearing her own crown and cape and hanging on his arm.
    “We got a lady coming through,” he declared. “Make way.” Another scrub was getting a promotion from Shane.
    Using his scepter, Shane poked Plums out of the path to his table. Gabriella was smiling and waving at everyone she passed, looking royally happy. Plodding behind them, the Finns looked royally unhappy in their green tights, red tunics, and floppy green-and-red jester hats. It amazed me what traitors would do to stay in the upper class’s good graces.
    A hush settled on the cafeteria as a roomful of eyes flicked from Shane to me to Shane to me. The Plums seemed to be waiting for something big to happen. Something big…like me.
    Quick, Shermie, do something.
“Stupid shoe,” I blurted then ducked below the table.
    “Hey, quit pushing.” Kenny didn’t appreciate being shoved aside, but that’s what he got for squeezing himself in there to begin with. It was a table, not a clown car.
    Tugging and twisting at my shoelace, I stayed down there for a while, considering my options. I could sit there and act like everything was normal, just go about my business and hope I’d fly under Shane’s radar. Or I could hightail it out of there. That second idea sounded like a winner. Too bad the exit was on the other side of Shane’s section. I’d have to be sly about reaching it, waiting for just the right moment, some kind of distraction, maybe….
    The cafeteria chatter was picking up again. Maybe the Plums had forgotten about me? I peeked under my armpit. King Shane and his jesters were now seated.
    Kenny nudged me in the ribs. “You done yet, Thuff Enuff? My back is cramping. I need to sit straight.”
    Tommy nudged me on my other side. “Me, too, man.”
    “All right already.” I elbowed both of them back, then twisted and shoved my way to sitting again.
    Tommy nudged me again. “There’s Shane, man. See him?”
    “Will you stop with the poking? I see him.” Even as I said that, Shane turned his head and saw me right back.
Crap.
    He started to stand, but Queen Gabriella stayed him with a hand on his arm. Maybe she didn’t want her royal “coming out” ruined; I didn’t know. But whatever her motive, I was thankful for it. Shane looked at me, then at her, then at me again. Eventually he relaxed back onto his bench.
    “What are you waiting for, Thuff Enuff?” Kenny asked. Ketchup dripped off of his Tot, right onto