Jake Drake, Bully Buster Read online

  Something was going to have to change.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Bullyitis

  Link didn’t even talk to me when I got off the bus. He just walked away. I watched him. He crossed Greenwood Street and started to walk down Park Street.

  And then I remembered. Of course! Link had moved into the Carsons’ old house. The house had been for sale, and now it was Link’s house. Right on Park Street. Right around the corner from me.

  When I walked into my house, I didn’t even say hi to my mom. I dropped my book bag on the floor. Then I went right to the playroom.

  My little sister, Abby, was watching a puppet show on TV. It was her favorite show.

  I said, “Give me that!” And I grabbed the remote from her. She frowned at me and stuck her tongue out. Then I changed the channel to Batman.

  Abby said, “Hey! I’m watching my puppets.”

  And I said, “Oh, yeah?” And I went over to her. She was sitting on a big pillow on the floor. I felt a lot taller than Abby. I said, “Well, I’m watching Batman, and you can’t stop me.” Then I kicked her pillow.

  Abby yelled, “Ow! Ow! That hurt! Mom, Jake stole the remote. And he just kicked me, HARD!”

  Mom came in. She was walking her fast walk. That’s her “You’re in big trouble” walk.

  She stopped and stood over me. She said, “Jake Drake, you know better than to come in here and make a fuss! You come right back to the kitchen and pick up your book bag. And give that remote back to your sister.”

  I tossed the remote to Abby. By mistake it hit her on the knee. “OWWW!” Now she really yelled, and she tried to cry a little too.

  So real quick, I said, “Sorry.” But I was too late. Mom took me by the arm and marched me to the kitchen.

  She put me on a chair. Then she said, “Jake, we do not treat others like that in this family, and you know it! What’s gotten into you!?”

  And then it hit me. It was Link. Link had gotten into me! I was being like Link. I had caught BULLYITIS!

  But I couldn’t tell my mom about Link. Because my mom might call Link’s mom. Then Link would tell every kid on the bus how Fake Drake went and cried to his mommy. And every day on the bus for the rest of my life I would hear about how I’m such a big baby.

  So I said, “Sorry, Mom.” Then I gave a big sigh. “I guess I’m just tired and hungry.”

  Moms love to hear that. Tired and hungry—that’s stuff that moms know how to fix.

  Mom patted me on the head. Then she fixed me a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk. And she said, “I’ll make sure you get to bed early tonight, sweetheart. But when that sandwich is gone, you have to go apologize to Abby.”

  So I ate slowly. But then I put my dish and my glass in the sink and went to look for Abby.

  And I thought it was going to be like all the other times I had told Abby I was sorry.

  But it wasn’t.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  What Abby Said

  Abby was only in kindergarten back then—back when I was in second grade. Even so, Abby wasn’t stupid like a lot of little kids are.

  I’d never tell her this, but Abby’s okay to talk to sometimes. You know, for a sister. I mean, since I don’t have a dog or anything. Abby’s kind of like a pet who can talk. Sort of like a parrot, I guess.

  Anyway, I told Abby I was sorry.

  “It’s okay,” she said.

  See what I mean? How Abby’s kind of like a pet? You know how if you yell at a dog, it gets all scared of you, or maybe mad? But then you pat it on the head, and it starts wagging its tail again? That’s the way Abby is.

  She was still watching the puppets. They were painting some clouds on a wall. Really dumb.

  Then I told Abby about Link.

  And Abby said, “His sister came to school today. Linda Baxter. She’s in kindergarten with me. She’s a bully, too.”

  I said, “Really?”

  “Yes,” said Abby. “Linda took Sara’s crayons. I saw.”

  Abby started moving her arms like the puppets.

  I said, “So she took Sara’s crayons?”

  Abby nodded, only half listening. “Yes. The best colors. Linda said, ‘If you tell, I’ll break them.’ At snack time Sara gave Linda a Ritz cracker. Then Linda let Sara use the yellow crayon.”

  So there it was. The Case of the Kidnapped Crayons.

  And I said to myself, Linda Baxter is only in kindergarten! Link’s baby sister is already a SuperBully. And then I thought, Imagine what her big brother is going to do to me!

  Not a good thought.

  Abby kept watching the puppets. The show was almost over. The puppets were starting to sing. It’s the part of the show that almost makes me throw up.

  Then I remembered something. I remembered going to visit Gramma and Grampa in Florida. It was just me and Abby. And I was mad because I always had to do everything with Abby. She was just four. She was still in nursery school, and I was already a big first grader. I hated hanging around with such a baby. I was mean to Abby the whole time.

  So I said, “Remember how I was mean to you when we went to Florida?”

  Abby was nodding to the music. But she said, “I remember.”

  And I said, “How come you didn’t get mad at me?”

  Abby shrugged. “If I get mad, I feel mean. I don’t like to feel mean. So I don’t get mad.”

  Then Abby started to sing along with the puppets. I did not want to throw up, so I went to my room. I flopped onto my bed so I could think about my problems.

  Part of me wished I could get a ride to school with Dad every morning. Then I wouldn’t have to ride the bus with Link. And maybe I could go to the library for recess. And then Mom could pick me up after school.

  Part of me wished I would grow ten inches in one night. Then tomorrow morning I would get on the bus. I would sit next to Link. I would push his face against the window. I would paint his nose with a red Magic Marker. I would call him Fink. Fink Baxter.

  But I kept thinking. And Abby was right. It’s not fun to feel mean. Link acted like it was fun. But it wasn’t, really—was it? No. It couldn’t be.

  As I went to sleep that night, here’s what I said to myself: Tomorrow, I will not get mad at Link. No matter what. Then he will see that it’s not fun to be mean.

  It worked for Abby and me.

  But would it work for a SuperBully?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Playing It Cool

  In the morning, Link made sure that he sat next to me on the bus. First thing, he wiped mud from his shoes onto my book bag. But I just smiled and brushed it off. Very cool.

  He called me Jake Flake. I laughed and said, “Yeah, that’s a good one! Or how about Snake Drake? Or… Cheesecake Drake? Or maybe… maybe, Shaky Jake? Yeah, Shaky Jake.”

  Everybody on the bus laughed. But it was me making them laugh, not Link. I was playing it cool.

  Link didn’t like it. His beady little eyes got meaner and meaner. And when we got to school, he pushed his way up to the front so he got off the bus first. He even pushed some fifth graders.

  In class it got worse. Link stuck some gum onto my math workbook. I just smiled and put a piece of paper over the sticky part. I kept working, cool as could be.

  During art class Link poured some gold glitter into the paint I was using. I said, “Nice idea!” And I kept painting.

  Later, the art teacher said, “Jake, I love what you’ve done there. Very creative.”

  Very creative, and very cool.

  I was worried about recess. The playground is big. Anything can happen out there.

  Sure enough, Link cut in line and got behind me on the sliding board. I slid down, and he came down behind me really fast. He tried to bump me into a puddle. But I stepped aside real fast, and his foot went into some mud.

  It’s a good thing Mrs. Brattle was standing so close. Otherwise, Link might have tried to make me lick that mud off his shoe or something.

  After lunch I was in the boys�
� room washing my hands. I looked in the mirror, and there was Link. Smiling. I tried to smile back, but it was hard. I was scared.

  Link kept smiling. He started to wash his hands at the sink next to me. And when I got a paper towel, he cupped his hands and threw a ton of water right at me. Right down the front of my tan pants. A big brown wet spot.

  Then in this baby voice Link said, “Wook, wook! Wittle Jakey had a accident!” A bunch of fourth graders started pointing and laughing.

  I tried to laugh, too. I tried to be cool, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t laugh. Not about that. I got angry. I felt like flames were going to shoot out of my eyes.

  And Link saw. He saw me get mad. Then he saw me get even madder about him seeing me get mad. And Link’s beady little eyes and his smirky little mouth laughed. At me.

  I stayed in the boys’ room as long as I could. I rubbed on my pants with paper towels. I fanned my pants with my hands. But when I went back to class, there was still a big dark spot.

  And Link had been whispering. Everybody looked at me when I came in the door. My face turned bright pink. And when I sat down across from Link, he held his nose and made a face.

  I couldn’t help it. I was so mad. And it made me feel mean. And I lost it. I turned toward Link and I punched him on the shoulder with all my might.

  Might is something I don’t have a lot of. So I know I didn’t really hurt him.

  But Link was a lot better at acting than Abby. He grabbed his shoulder and knocked a book off his desk.

  “Ahh!” he shouted. “Ahh! My arm, my arm!”

  Mrs. Brattle was there in one second flat. “Jake! I am ashamed of you!”

  Link let his arm flop down like it was broken. He whimpered, “Ahh, my arm, my arm! It hurts.”

  Mrs. Brattle said, “Ted, please help Link down to the nurse’s office. And Jake, you come with me.”

  As Link left the room, he peeked a look back at me. And he smiled.

  Link Baxter was off to get some ice and some friendly words from the nurse.

  And me? I was off to talk with the principal—probably not a happy little chat. And my pants still had a big stain down the front.

  Mrs. Brattle walked me down the hall. On the way, I figured something out. Link was a bigger problem than Abby had ever faced.

  This was war, and I was losing. Big time.

  Not cool. Not cool at all.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Learning My Lesson

  When people are mad at you, they do a lot of pointing. In the office, Mrs. Brattle pointed to a chair. She said, “Wait here.” No smiles. Then she went into the principal’s office.

  A minute later she came out, and so did Mrs. Karp. Mrs. Karp pointed to her office and said, “In there, Jake.”

  I had never been to the principal’s office before. There was a big gray desk. There was a row of big gray bookcases. And there was a big gray principal. Mrs. Karp had gray shoes, a gray dress, and gray hair. And she was taller than Mrs. Brattle. Even taller than my dad.

  She pointed at a gray chair in front of her desk. “Sit there, Jake.” So I sat down. Then she said, “You know it’s against the rules to hit someone, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

  And I said, “Yes, I know.”

  “Then why did you hit Link Baxter?”

  This was the tricky part. If I told about Link being a bully, then I would be a tattletale. But if I didn’t say something, then she would think I was some crazy hitter. So I pointed at the spot on my pants. And I said, “Some water got on my pants in the boys’ room. And I thought Link was making fun.”

  So simple. So true. So easy for Mrs. Karp to understand. And she did. Just like that. She got a friendly look on her face and said, “I understand about feeling embarrassed, Jake. But do you see that hitting is wrong, no matter what?”

  And I said, “Yes.” Because it was true. I really was sorry I had hit Link. I did not want to have a fight with Link. Ever. For two reasons.

  First, because it’s not good to hit and kick and scratch and pull hair and roll around on the ground. And second, because I knew what would happen to me if I ever did get in a fight with Link. I would turn into one huge purple bruise.

  So Mrs. Karp sent me back to my classroom. She didn’t even call my mom.

  As she opened the door to her office for me she said, “I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you, Jake?”

  And I said, “Yes, Mrs. Karp.” Only I didn’t know if we were talking about the same lesson.

  As I walked from the school office toward Mrs. Brattle’s room, Link came out of the nurse’s office. I think he had been waiting for me. He walked beside me. In the empty hallway Link seemed bigger than ever.

  He gave me that bully-smile and said, “Nice move, Flake. Have a good time with the principal?”

  This was the first time I had been alone with Link. I was scared, but I said, “It wasn’t so bad.” We kept walking.

  Being alone with Link was different. And I thought that maybe a bully stops being a bully if there aren’t some other kids around to watch. I thought that maybe he’s only a SuperBully when he has an audience. For a second, it felt like Link Baxter was just this big kid, and I was walking down the hall with him.

  Back then I didn’t know as much about bullies as I do now. So I said, “How come you pick on me?”

  Wrong question. The SuperBully was back. Link looked at me like I was a bug. He said, “Dumb question.” And I thought maybe he was going to push me into a locker or something.

  But he didn’t. And we just kept walking.

  But it was like my question confused him. And just before we got back to room twenty-three, I knew. I knew why he didn’t answer the question.

  He didn’t because he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell me why because he didn’t really know.

  But there had to be a reason why Link was a bully.

  And if I could figure out that reason—or if I could give him a reason NOT to be a bully—then Link Baxter, SuperBully, would become Link Baxter, Ex-SuperBully.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Dangerous Duo

  The next week was not fun.

  Every chance he got, Link did something mean. Like step on my red pen and break it. Or something embarrassing. Like push me into a bunch of fourth-grade girls in the cafeteria. Or something annoying. Like hide my book bag under the seats at the back of the bus.

  I was starting to think that Link was a bully because Link was a bully. And I was starting to think there was nothing I could do about it. Except live with it. Every day. For the rest of my life.

  Just when I was sure things could not get worse, they did. Thanks to Mrs. Brattle.

  Thanksgiving was coming, and we all had to do a social studies project about it. Mrs. Brattle planned all the topics. And Mrs. Brattle wanted everyone to work in pairs. And Mrs. Brattle chose the pairs. And one pair was Jake Drake and Link Baxter. We had to do a report to show how the Native Americans had lived.

  Link loved it. He thought it was so funny. A big joke.

  He said, “Hey, Flake. This is great. It’s you and me. We get to make a teepee together. Tell you what. I’ll do the tee part, and you can take care of the pee. Get it? The pee?”

  Of course, I wanted to tell Link how dumb he was! Because the Native Americans at the first Thanksgiving never saw a teepee. They lived in wetu, round wigwams made of poles and bark. And they made longhouses, too. But you don’t say things like that to a SuperBully.

  I went up to Mrs. Brattle when everyone else went to lunch. I said, “Mrs. Brattle, I don’t think I should work with Link on the Thanksgiving project.”

  She said, “Oh? Why is that?”

  “Well,” I said, “I just think I’d do better with someone else.”

  Mrs. Brattle said, “I’m sorry, but everyone else is already paired up, Jake. I’m sure you and Link will do just fine.”

  On the bus home that day, Link said, “That Thanksgiving thing? You’re going to do the report, Flake.
I don’t do dumb stuff like that.”

  I said, “What do you mean? We’re partners.”

  Link said, “Yeah, right. And you’re the partner who has to do the report.”

  • • •

  The next day we had library period. I watched Link. He went right to the reference section. He got the N encyclopedia. Good, I thought. He’s going to look up things about the Native Americans. Link carried the encyclopedia to a table at the back of the library. My partner was working. Looked good to me.

  I went to find some other stuff about Native Americans in Massachusetts.

  Near the end of the period I went to show Link the books I found.

  He looked up and said, “Great job, Flake.”

  I said, “What did you find?”

  And he said, “Take a look.” Behind the encyclopedia Link was reading a book of Garfield cartoons. He said, “I love social studies, don’t you?”

  So there it was: My partner wasn’t just a SuperBully. He was also a moron.

  • • •

  Then it was the day before the project was due.

  I had found all the books. I had found all the pictures. I had used my best handwriting to make some labels. I had stuff I could tell about, but we still didn’t have a project or anything to show the class.

  At the end of the day, Mrs. Brattle said, “Remember, all the Thanksgiving projects are due tomorrow.”

  So after we got off the bus that afternoon, Link came up to me. He said, “Hey, Flake. Did you finish that dumb report yet?”

  And I said, “No. We still have to make something to show about the Native Americans.”

  And he said, “Well, you better finish it tonight.”

  It was the way he said it. Like he could just order me around. He thought he could just look at me and make me do whatever he wanted me to. But I was tired of doing all the work. It wasn’t fair.