who wanted to catch him anyway? Walking alone wouldn’t be as bad as walking with a traitor like Brian Dunlop.
Actually it didn’t turn out bad at all. As long as you stay on the lookout and protect yourself, you’re not in too much danger. Every time a car came by, I held up my history book as a shield. It may sound crazy, but wearing a double-yolker to school does that to a person.
After I had gone a block or two, I started to relax a little and think about the day I was going to have. I hoped it would be good. I’d spent most of the night praying that everything would go okay, that everyone would love my commercial. Brian says that God doesn’t appreciate people praying for dumb little favors. But in my opinion that’s what he’s there for.
As I walked, I felt in my pocket for my autograph pen. I’d brought it along just in case, you know? After all, if anything could make me famous, it was being seen in the middle of a great show like
Gilligan’s Island
. I paused a second and smiled. Maybe there’d even be an unruly mob waiting for me at my locker.
“Hey!” shouted a voice, suddenly interrupting my thoughts. “Hey, look! It’s him, Mommy! It’s that boy!”
Wow, this was great! I wasn’t even at school yet, and already I had been recognized!
I turned around. It was Ernest Wilson. Ernest Wilson is three years old. He lives at the end of my street. He can’t remember my name.
“Hey, you!” he screamed again. “I saw you on the TB! My mom told me you’re the Kitty Boy!”
Ernest was standing at his screen door waving his arms and jumping up and down. I smiled and waved back. I probably should have gone over and patted him on the head or something. But I didn’t. It was getting late, and I wanted to have a little bit of time left for the unruly mob.
I stopped to put on my sunglasses. My fans would expect it.
A few minutes later I arrived at my locker. Disappointed, I looked around. No unruly mob.
The only person gathered at my locker was Ned “The Bully” Jankowski. Ned has the locker right next to mine. I met him on the first day of school this year. He had been trying to work his lock combination.
“Hi,” I had said. “I’m Alex.”
Ned had grabbed me by my shirt. “Listen, dude,” he said. “Just in case you might be thinking about looking at my combination—don’t. ’Cause if my locker’s ever broken into, I’ll know it was you, and I’ll track you down until I find you, and then I’ll put my fist right through your eye socket.”
Thinking it over for a second, I nodded. “That sounds fair, Ned,” I squeaked. “That would be good.”
Since then I’ve tried to avoid Ned the Bully whenever possible. But on this particular morning I decided to make an exception. Who knows, maybe he’d seen my commercial. Maybe he’d like having a famous friend.
“Hi, Ned,” I said, giving him a timid little pat on the back. “Er … did you happen to see the commercial I made on TV yesterday, bud?”
Ned whipped around so fast, his breeze practically knocked me over. “Let’s get one thing straight, dude,” he replied, grabbing a handful of my shirt. “You’re a skinny little bone bag and I’m not your bud. Get it? And if you ever slap me on the back again, I’m going to reach into your skull and pull your feet out through your brains.”
This time I actually started to whimper. I didn’t mean to but a series of little whimpers just slipped out my lips.
“Ss … ss … sounds good, Ned. Right out my brain. A guy couldn’t ask for a better deal than that.”
Finally Ned released his grip and stormed away. I stayed at my locker and dusted off. Not a bad start for the day really. Any time I’m able to leave my locker with all my body parts, I feel lucky.
A few minutes later I headed for my first-period English class. As soon as I was inside, I hurried to put my books under my chair. Then I sat down quickly and pulled out my autograph pen. I took a deep breath
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley