?”
Mandy walks away saying, “Blah-blah-blah-whatever!” But her face is all red and I almost feel sorry for her.
Dallas turns to me. “You know what? I bet the taste test is going to prove that you’re the only freak in the class. You can’t even taste stuff . Think about what a colossal freak that makes you.”
Lunch is macaroni and cheese, crusty on the top the way I like it.
Last period. Gym. It’s Friday again, so Ms. Warner and I do our high five.
The whiteboard says Capture the Flag!
Normally I don’t mind Capture the Flag! because it’s pretty easy to fly under the radar: I run around the edges of the game, I get a little exercise, and I don’t attempt anything stupid.
But Ms. Warner has decided that today I will be a captain.
“G is captain of the blue team,” she announces, and everybody groans. She’s just trying to be nice, of course, but I’m disappointed in her. I thought she knew me better than this. Because being a captain is exactly the kind of thing I could never care about.
She looks at me. “C’mon, G. Blue team. Step up.”
So I walk up to her, and she smiles.
“Blue tongue team,” Dallas says, and Mandy laughs. I guess she and Dallas made up.
“And Mandy is the captain of the red team,” Ms. Warner says. Mandy claps, jumps up and down, and hugs a few of her friends as if she’s just been crowned prom queen in a bad TV movie. She runs up to stand on the other side of Ms. Warner. The rest of the class lines up against the wall.
Now I will have to “pick my team.” And I have to be careful, because if a kid is picked last, it can absolutely destroy his or her self-confidence. I decide that the best thing to do is to choose the kids who are normally picked last, first . I know exactly who they are. Everyone in the room knows who they are.
Mandy looks more and more confused as I make my way through the smallest, least athletic, most officially uncool kids in the class. Ms. Warner is giving me knowing looks. If we could talk, I would remind her that I never asked to becaptain, and that my goals as captain are probably different from most people’s. And I’m having fun, I realize.
I let my team members pick code names. Joanna is Spike; Karl and Carl are Smoke and Fire; Bob English Who Draws is Squid; Kevin is Shark Attack; Natasha Khan is Mist; David Rosen is Stingray; Eliza Donan is Laser; Chad, Anita, and Paul are Thing One, Thing Two, and Thing Three; and I am Mask. This eats a couple of minutes. Mandy is complaining to Ms. Warner that we aren’t “taking the game seriously,” but Ms. Warner doesn’t rush us. Everyone on Mandy’s team looks competitive and grouchy.
We play. Most of us get our flags pulled and land in jail, and the rest of us plot elaborate rescue missions. Whenever we get a jailbreak, Paul, aka Thing Three, streaks around the gym with both arms up yelling “Blue Team! It’s what’s for breakfast!” Anita, aka Thing Two, explains that this means Paul is having a good time.
We ignore the red team’s flag. We’ve hidden our flag really well. Karl, aka Smoke, had the idea of tucking it around the basketball hoop. Smoke is tall.
Carter Dixon and Dallas Llewellyn are getting angry. Mandy complains that our flag is nowhere. Ms. Warner assures her that it is somewhere.
“Well, I’m not going through anyone’s pants or anything,” Mandy says. Ms. Warner tells Mandy that our flag is in plain view.
I think of my fortune from Yum Li’s: Why don’t you look up once in a while? Is something wrong with your neck? I’m laughing when the bell goes off. Even though most of myteam is incarcerated, it’s officially a tie because they never found our flag.
I’m walking out the door when Ms. Warner calls out, “Happy weekend, G. See you on the dark side of Sunday. Get it? The dark side of Sunday? Monday!”
“Hi, G,” Carter Dixon says to me at Bennie’s after school. I’ve already made my selection, which is peanut M&M’s, otherwise known
Mandy walks away saying, “Blah-blah-blah-whatever!” But her face is all red and I almost feel sorry for her.
Dallas turns to me. “You know what? I bet the taste test is going to prove that you’re the only freak in the class. You can’t even taste stuff . Think about what a colossal freak that makes you.”
Lunch is macaroni and cheese, crusty on the top the way I like it.
Last period. Gym. It’s Friday again, so Ms. Warner and I do our high five.
The whiteboard says Capture the Flag!
Normally I don’t mind Capture the Flag! because it’s pretty easy to fly under the radar: I run around the edges of the game, I get a little exercise, and I don’t attempt anything stupid.
But Ms. Warner has decided that today I will be a captain.
“G is captain of the blue team,” she announces, and everybody groans. She’s just trying to be nice, of course, but I’m disappointed in her. I thought she knew me better than this. Because being a captain is exactly the kind of thing I could never care about.
She looks at me. “C’mon, G. Blue team. Step up.”
So I walk up to her, and she smiles.
“Blue tongue team,” Dallas says, and Mandy laughs. I guess she and Dallas made up.
“And Mandy is the captain of the red team,” Ms. Warner says. Mandy claps, jumps up and down, and hugs a few of her friends as if she’s just been crowned prom queen in a bad TV movie. She runs up to stand on the other side of Ms. Warner. The rest of the class lines up against the wall.
Now I will have to “pick my team.” And I have to be careful, because if a kid is picked last, it can absolutely destroy his or her self-confidence. I decide that the best thing to do is to choose the kids who are normally picked last, first . I know exactly who they are. Everyone in the room knows who they are.
Mandy looks more and more confused as I make my way through the smallest, least athletic, most officially uncool kids in the class. Ms. Warner is giving me knowing looks. If we could talk, I would remind her that I never asked to becaptain, and that my goals as captain are probably different from most people’s. And I’m having fun, I realize.
I let my team members pick code names. Joanna is Spike; Karl and Carl are Smoke and Fire; Bob English Who Draws is Squid; Kevin is Shark Attack; Natasha Khan is Mist; David Rosen is Stingray; Eliza Donan is Laser; Chad, Anita, and Paul are Thing One, Thing Two, and Thing Three; and I am Mask. This eats a couple of minutes. Mandy is complaining to Ms. Warner that we aren’t “taking the game seriously,” but Ms. Warner doesn’t rush us. Everyone on Mandy’s team looks competitive and grouchy.
We play. Most of us get our flags pulled and land in jail, and the rest of us plot elaborate rescue missions. Whenever we get a jailbreak, Paul, aka Thing Three, streaks around the gym with both arms up yelling “Blue Team! It’s what’s for breakfast!” Anita, aka Thing Two, explains that this means Paul is having a good time.
We ignore the red team’s flag. We’ve hidden our flag really well. Karl, aka Smoke, had the idea of tucking it around the basketball hoop. Smoke is tall.
Carter Dixon and Dallas Llewellyn are getting angry. Mandy complains that our flag is nowhere. Ms. Warner assures her that it is somewhere.
“Well, I’m not going through anyone’s pants or anything,” Mandy says. Ms. Warner tells Mandy that our flag is in plain view.
I think of my fortune from Yum Li’s: Why don’t you look up once in a while? Is something wrong with your neck? I’m laughing when the bell goes off. Even though most of myteam is incarcerated, it’s officially a tie because they never found our flag.
I’m walking out the door when Ms. Warner calls out, “Happy weekend, G. See you on the dark side of Sunday. Get it? The dark side of Sunday? Monday!”
“Hi, G,” Carter Dixon says to me at Bennie’s after school. I’ve already made my selection, which is peanut M&M’s, otherwise known
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