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"I told him I wouldn't tell you," I explained.
"It's so weird," he said. "I have no idea why he's mad at me all of a sudden. None. Can't you at least give me a hint?"
I looked over at where August was across the room, talking to our moms. I wasn't about to break my solid oath that I wouldn't tell anyone about what he overheard at Halloween, but I felt bad for Jack.
"Bleeding Scream," I whispered in his ear, and then walked away.
Part Four
Jack
Now here is my secret. It is very simple.
It is only with one's heart that one can see clearly.
What is essential is invisible to the eye.
—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
The Call
So in August my parents got this call from Mr. Tushman, the middle-school director. And my Mom said: "Maybe he calls all the new students to welcome them," and my dad said: "That's a lot of kids he'd be calling." So my mom called him back, and I could hear her talking to Mr. Tushman on the phone. This is exactly what she said:
"Oh, hi, Mr. Tushman. This is Amanda Will, returning your call? Pause. Oh, thank you! That's so nice of you to say. He is looking forward to it. Pause. Yes. Pause. Yeah. Pause. Oh. Sure. Long pause. Ohhh. Uh-huh. Pause. Well, that's so nice of you to say. Pause. Sure. Ohh. Wow. Ohhhh. Super long pause. I see, of course. I'm sure he will. Let me write it down... got it. I'll call you after I've had a chance to talk to him, okay? Pause. No, thank you for thinking of him. Bye bye!"
And when she hung up, I was like, "what's up, what did he say?"
And Mom said: "Well, it's actually very flattering but kind of sad, too. See, there's this boy who's starting middle school this year, and he's never been in a real school environment before because he was homeschooled, so Mr. Tushman talked to some of the lower-school teachers to find out who they thought were some of the really, really great kids coming into fifth grade, and the teachers must have told him you were an especially nice kid—which I already knew, of course—and so Mr. Tushman is wondering if he could count on you to sort of shepherd this new boy around a bit?"
"Like let him hang out with me?" I said.
"Exactly," said Mom. "He called it being a 'welcome buddy.' "
"But why me?"
"I told you. Your teachers told Mr. Tushman that you were the kind of kid who's known for being a good egg. I mean, I'm so proud that they think so highly of you... ."
"Why is it sad?"
"What do you mean?"
"You said it's flattering but kind of sad, too."
"Oh." Mom nodded. "Well, apparently this boy has some sort of... um, I guess there's something wrong with his face... or something like that. Not sure. Maybe he was in an accident. Mr. Tushman said he'd explain a bit more when you come to the school next week."
"School doesn't start till September!"
"He wants you to meet this kid before school starts."
"Do I have to?"
Mom looked a bit surprised.
"Well, no, of course not," she said, "but it would be the nice thing to do, Jack."
them one more time. The kid was licking his ice cream cone, the mom was picking up his scooter, and the sister was glaring at me like she was going to kill me. I looked away quickly.
"Veronica, what was wrong with that kid?" I whispered.
"Hush, boy!" she said, her voice angry. I love Veronica, but when she got mad, she got mad. Meanwhile, Jamie was practically spilling out of his stroller trying to get another look as Veronica pushed him away.
"But, Vonica... ," said Jamie.
"You boys were very naughty! Very naughty!" said Veronica as soon as we were farther down the block. "Staring like that!"
"I didn't mean to!" I said.
"Vonica," said Jamie.
"Us leaving like that," Veronica was muttering.
"Oh Lord, that poor lady. I tell you, boys. Every day we should thank the Lord for our blessings, you hear me?"
"Vonica!"
"What is it, Jamie?"
"Is it Halloween?"
"No, Jamie."
"Then why was that boy wearing a mask?"
Veronica didn't answer. Sometimes, when she was mad about something, she would do that.
"He wasn't wearing a mask," I explained to Jamie.
"Hush, Jack!" said Veronica.
"Why are you so mad, Veronica?" I couldn't help asking. I thought this would make her angrier, but actually she shook her head.
"It was bad how we did that," she said. "Just getting up like that, like we'd just seen the devil. I was scared for what Jamie was going to say, you know? I didn't want him to say
anything that would hurt that little boy's feelings. But it was very bad, us leaving like that. The momma knew what was going on."
"But we didn't mean it," I answered.
"Jack, sometimes you don't have to mean to hurt someone to hurt someone. You understand?"
That was the first time I ever saw August in the neighborhood, at least that I remember. But I've seen him around ever since then: a couple of times in the playground, a few times in the park. He used to wear an astronaut helmet sometimes. But I always knew it was him underneath the helmet. All the kids in the neighborhood knew it was him. Everyone has seen August at some point or another. We all know his name, though he doesn't know ours.
And whenever I've seen him, I try to remember what Veronica said. But it's hard. It's hard not to sneak a second look. It's hard to act normal when you see him.
Why I Changed My Mind
"Who else did Mr. Tushman call?" I asked Mom later that night. "Did he tell you?"
"He mentioned Julian and Charlotte."
"Julian!" I said. "Ugh. Why Julian?"
"You used to be friends with Julian!"
"Mom, that was like in kindergarten. Julian's the biggest phony there is. And he's trying so hard to be popular all the time."
"Well," said Mom, "at least Julian agreed to help this kid out. Got to give him credit for that."
I didn't say anything because she was right.
"What about Charlotte?" I asked.
"Is she doing it, too?" "Yes," Mom said.
"Of course she is. Charlotte's such a Goody Two-Shoes," I answered.
"Boy, Jack," said Mom, "you seem to have a problem with everybody these days."
"It's just... ," I started. "Mom, you have no idea what this kid looks like."
"Look, Jack," said Mom as soon as he left, and I knew she was about to give me a whole speech.
"Okay, I'll do it," I said, which completely shocked her.
"You will?"
"Yes!"
"So I can call Mr. Tushman?"
"Yes! Mom, yes, I said yes!"
Mom smiled. "I knew you'd rise to the occasion, kiddo. Good for you. I'm proud of you, Jackie." She messed up my hair.
So here's why I changed my mind. It wasn't so I wouldn't have to hear Mom give me a whole lecture. And it wasn't to protect this August kid from Julian, who I knew would be a jerk about the whole thing. It was because when I heard Jamie talking about how he had run away from August going 'Ahhh,' I suddenly felt really bad. The thing is, there are always going to be kids like Julian who are jerks. But if a little kid like Jamie, who's usually a nice enough kid, can be that mean, then a kid like August doesn't stand a chance in middle school.
Four Things
First of all, you do get used to his face. The first couple of times I was like, whoa, I'm never going to get used to this. And then, after about a week, I was like, huh, it's not so bad.
Second of all, he's actually a really cool dude. I mean, he's pretty funny. Like, the teacher will say something and August will whisper something funny to me that no one else hears and totally make me crack up. He's also just, overall, a nice kid. Like, he's easy to hang out with and talk to and stuff. T
hird of all, he's really smart. I thought he'd be behind everyone because he hadn't gone to school before. But in most things he's way ahead of me. I mean, maybe not as smart as Charlotte or Ximena, but he's up there. And unlike Charlotte or Ximena, he lets me cheat off of him if I really need to (though I've only needed to a couple of times). He also let me copy his homework once, though we both got in trouble for it after class.
"The two of you got the exact same answers wrong on yesterday's homework," Ms. Rubin said, looking at both of us like she was waiting for an explanation. I didn't know what to say, because the explanation would have been: Oh, that's because I copied August's homework.
But August lied to protect me. He was like, "Oh, that's because we did our homework together last night," which wasn't true at all.
"Well, doing homework together is a good thing," Ms. Rubin answered, "but you're supposed to still do it separately, okay? You could work side by side if you want, but you can't actually do your homework together, okay? Got it?"
After we left the classroom, I said: "Dude, thanks for doing that." And he was like, "No problem."
That was cool.
Fourthly, now that I know him, I would say I actually do want to be friends with August. At first, I admit it, I was only friendly to him because Mr. Tushman asked me to be especially nice and all that. But now I would choose to hang out with him. He laughs at all my jokes. And I kind of feel like I can tell August anything. Like he's a good friend. Like, if all the guys in the fifth grade were lined up against a wall and I got to choose anyone I wanted to hang out with, I would choose August.
Ex-Friends
Bleeding Scream? What the heck? Summer Dawson has always been a bit out there, but this was too much. All I did was ask her why August was acting like he was mad at me or something. I figured she would know. And all she said was "Bleeding Scream"? I don't even know what that means.
It's so weird because one day, me and August were friends. And the next day, whoosh, he was hardly talking to me. And I haven't the slightest idea why. When I said to him, "Hey, August, you mad at me or something?" he shrugged and walked away. So I would take that as a definite yes. And since I know for a fact that I didn't do anything to him to be mad about, I figured Summer could tell me what's up. But all I got from her was "Bleeding Scream"? Yeah, big help. Thanks, Summer.
You know, I've got plenty of other friends in school. So if August wants to officially be my ex-friend, then fine, that is okay by me, see if I care. I've started ignoring him like he's ignoring me in school now. This is actually kind of hard since we sit next to each other in practically every class.
Other kids have noticed and have started asking if me and August have had a fight. Nobody asks August what's going on. Hardly anyone ever talks to him, anyway. I mean, the only person he hangs out with, other than me, is Summer. Sometimes he hangs out with Reid Kingsley a little bit, and the two Maxes got him playing Dungeons
Dad's school was closed, too, so he took me and Jamie sledding down Skeleton Hill in the park. They say a little kid broke his neck while sledding down that hill a few years ago, but I don't know if this is actually true or just one of those legends. On the way home, I spotted this banged-up wooden sled kind of propped up against the Old Indian Rock monument. Dad said to leave it, it was just garbage, but something told me it would make the greatest sled ever. So Dad let me drag it home, and I spent the rest of the day fixing it up. I super-glued the broken slats together and wrapped some heavy- duty white duct tape around them for extra strength. Then I spray painted the whole thing white with the paint I had gotten for the Alabaster Sphinx I was making for the Egyptian Museum project. When it was all dry, I painted LIGHTNING in gold letters on the middle piece of wood, and I made a little lightning-bolt symbol above the letters. It looked pretty professional, I have to say. Dad was like, "Wow, Jackie! You were right about the sled!"
The next day, we went back to Skeleton Hill with Lightning. It was the fastest thing I've ever ridden—so, so, so much faster than the plastic sleds we'd been using. And because it had gotten warmer outside, the snow had become crunchier and wetter: good packing snow. Me and Jamie took turns on Lightning all afternoon. We were in the park until our fingers were frozen and our lips had turned a little blue. Dad practically had to drag us home.
By the end of the weekend, the snow had started turning gray and yellow, and then a rainstorm turned most of the snow to slush. When we got back to school on Monday, there was no snow left.
It was rainy and yucky the first day back from vacation. A slushy day. That's how I was feeling inside, too.
I nodded "hey" to August the first time I saw him. We were in front of the lockers. He nodded "hey" back.
I wanted to tell him about Lightning , but I didn't.
Fortune Favors the Bold
Mr. Browne's December precept was: Fortune favors the bold. We were all supposed to write a paragraph about some time in our lives when we did something very brave and how, because of it, something good happened to us.
I thought about this a lot, to be truthful. I have to say that I think the bravest thing I ever did was become friends with August. But I couldn't write about that, of course. I was afraid we'd have to read these out loud, or Mr. Browne would put them up on the
bulletin board like he does sometimes. So, instead, I wrote this lame thing about how I used to be afraid of the ocean when I was little. It was dumb but I couldn't think of anything else.
I wonder what August wrote about. He probably had a lot of things to choose from.
Private School
My parents are not rich. I say this because people sometimes think that everyone who goes to private school is rich, but that isn't true with us. Dad's a teacher and Mom's a social worker, which means they don't have those kinds of jobs where people make gazillions of dollars. We used to have a car, but we sold it when Jamie started kindergarten at Beecher Prep. We don't live in a big townhouse or in one of those doorman buildings along the park. We live on the top floor of a five-story walk-up we rent from an old lady named Doña Petra all the way on the "other" side of Broadway. That's "code" for the section of North River Heights where people don't want to park their cars. Me and Jamie share a room. I overhear my parents talk about things like "Can we do without an air conditioner one more year?" or "Maybe I can work two jobs this summer."
So today at recess I was hanging out with Julian and Henry and Miles. Julian, who everyone knows is rich, was like, "I hate that I have to go back to Paris this Christmas. It's so boring!"
"Dude, but it's, like, Paris," I said like an idiot.
"Believe me, it's so boring," he said. "My grandmother lives in this house in the middle of nowhere. It's like an hour away from Paris in this tiny, tiny, tiny village. I swear to God, nothing happens there! I mean, it's like, oh wow, there's another fly on the wall! Look, there's a new dog sleeping on the sidewalk. Yippee."
I laughed. Sometimes Julian could be very funny.
"Though my parents are talking about throwing a big party this year instead of going to Paris. I hope so. What are you doing over break?" said Julian.
"Just hanging out," I said.
"You're so lucky," he said.
"I hope it snows again," I answered. "I got this new sled that is so amazing." I was about to tell them about Lightning but Miles started talking first.
about school is all the homework we get. It's not enough that we have to sit through class after class and try to stay awake while they fill our heads with all this stuff we will probably never need to know, like how to figure out the surface area of a cube or what the difference is between kinetic and potential energy. I'm like, who cares? I've never, ever heard my parents say the word "kinetic" in my entire life!
I hate science the most out of all my classes. We get so much work it's not even funny! And the teacher, Ms. Rubin, is so strict about everything—even the way we write our headings on the top of our papers! I once got two points off a homework assignment because I didn't put the date on top. Crazy stuff.
When me and August were still friends, I was doing okay in science because August sat next to me and always let me copy his notes. August has the neatest handwriting of anybody I've ever seen who's a boy. Even his script is neat: up and down perfectly, with really small round loopy letters. But now that we're ex-friends, it's bad because I can't ask him to let me copy his notes anymore.
So I was kind of scrambling today, trying to take notes about what Ms. Rubin was saying (my handwriting is awful), when all of a sudden she started talking about the fifth-grade science-fair project, how we all had to choose a science project to work on.
While she was saying this, I was thinking, We just finished the freakin' Egypt project, now we have to start a whole new thing? And then in my head I was going, Oh noooooo! like that kid in Home Alone with his mouth hanging open and his hands on his face. That was the face I was making on the inside. And then I thought of those pictures of melting ghost faces I've seen somewhere, where the mouths are open wide and they're screaming. And then all of a sudden this picture flew into my head, this memory, and I knew what Summer had meant by "bleeding scream." It's so weird how it all just came to me in this flash. Someone in homeroom had dressed up in a Bleeding Scream costume on Halloween. I remember seeing him a few desks away from me. And then I remember not seeing him again.
Oh man. It was August!
All of this hit me in science class while the teacher was talking.
Oh man.
I'd been talking to Julian about August. Oh man. Now I understood! I was so mean. I don't even know why. I'm not even sure what I said, but it was bad. It was only a minute or two. It's just that I knew Julian and everybody thought I was so weird for hanging out with August all the time, and I felt stupid. And I don't know why I said that stuff. I just was going along. I was stupid. I am stupid. Oh God. He was supposed to come as
Boba Fett! I would never have said that stuff in front of Boba Fett. But that was him, that Bleeding Scream sitting at the desk looking over at us. The long white mask with the fake squirting blood. The mouth open wide. Like the ghoul was crying. That was him.
I felt like I was going to puke.
Partners
I didn't hear a word of what Ms. Rubin was saying after that. Blah blah blah. Science- fair project. Blah blah blah. Partners. Blah blah. It was like the way grown-ups talk in Charlie Brown movies. Like someone talking underwater. Mwah-mwah-mwahhh, mwah mwahh.
Then all of a sudden Ms. Rubin started pointing to kids around the class. "Reid and Tristan, Maya and Max, Charlotte and Ximena, August and Jack." She pointed to us when she said this. "Miles and Amos, Julian and Henry, Savanna and.. ." I didn't hear the rest.
"Huh?" I said.
The bell rang.
"So don't forget to get together with your partners to choose a project from the list, guys!" said Ms. Rubin as everyone started taking off. I looked up at August, but he had already put his backpack on and was practically out the door.
I must have had a stupid look on my face because Julian came over and said: "Looks like you and your best bud are partners." He was smirking when he said this. I hated him so much right then.
"Hello, earth to Jack Will?" he said when I didn't answer him.
"Shut up, Julian." I was putting my loose-leaf binder away in my backpack and just wanted him away from me.
"You must be so bummed you got stuck with him," he said. "You should tell Ms. Rubin you want to switch partners. I bet she'd let you."
"No she wouldn't," I said.
"Ask her." "No, I don't want to."
"Ms. Rubin?" Julian said, turning around and raising his hand at the same time.
"Julian's mouth was bleeding, Jack," said Mr. Tushman. "You knocked out a tooth, did you know that?"
"It was just a baby tooth," I said.
"Jack!" said Mom, shaking her head.
"That's what Nurse Molly said!"
"You're missing the point!" Mom yelled.
"I just want to know why," said Mr. Tushman, raising his shoulders.
"It'll just make everything worse," I sighed.
"Just tell me, Jack."
I shrugged but I didn't say anything. I just couldn't. If I told him that Julian had called August a freak, then he'd go talk to Julian about it, then Julian would tell him how I had badmouthed August, too, and everybody would find out about it.
"Jack!" said Mom. I
started to cry. "I'm sorry.. ."
Mr. Tushman raised his eyebrows and nodded, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he kind of blew into his hands, like you do when your hands are cold. "Jack," he said, "I don't really know what to say here. I mean, you punched a kid. We have rules about that kind of thing, you know? Automatic expulsion. And you're not even trying to explain yourself."
I was crying a lot by now, and the second Mom put her arms around me, I started to bawl.
"Let's, um... ," said Mr. Tushman, taking his glasses off to clean them, "let's do this, Jack. We're out for winter break as of next week anyway. How about you stay home for the rest of this week, and then after winter break you'll come back and everything will be fresh and brand new. Clean slate, so to speak."
"Am I being suspended?" I sniffled.
"Well," he said, shrugging, "technically yes, but it's only for a couple of days. And I'll tell you what. While you're at home, you take the time to think about what's happened. And if you want to write me a letter explaining what happened, and a letter to Julian apologizing, then we won't even put any of this in your permanent record, okay? You
go home and talk about it with your mom and dad, and maybe in the morning you'll figure it all out a bit more."
"That sounds like a good plan, Mr. Tushman," said Mom, nodding. "Thank you."
"Everything is going to be okay," said Mr. Tushman, walking over to the door, which was closed. "I know you're a nice kid, Jack. And I know that sometimes even nice kids do dumb things, right?" He opened the door.
"Thank you for being so understanding," said Mom, shaking his hand at the door.
"No problem." He leaned over and told her something quietly that I couldn't hear.
"I know, thank you," said Mom, nodding.
"So, kiddo," he said to me, putting his hands on my shoulders. "Think about what you've done, okay? And have a great holiday. Happy Chanukah! Merry Christmas! Happy Kwanzaa!"
I wiped my nose with my sleeve and started walking out the door.
"Say thank you to Mr. Tushman," said Mom, tapping my shoulder. I stopped and turned around, but I couldn't look at him.
"Thank you, Mr. Tushman," I said.
"Bye, Jack," he answered.
Then I walked out the door.
Season's Greetings
Weirdly enough, when we got back home and Mom brought in the mail, there were holiday cards from both Julian's family and August's family. Julian's holiday card was a picture of Julian wearing a tie, looking like he was about to go to the opera or something. August's holiday card was of a cute old dog wearing reindeer antlers, a red nose, and red booties. There was a cartoon bubble above the dog's head that read: "Ho-Ho-Ho!" On the inside of the card it read:
To the Will family,
Peace on Earth. Love, Nate, Isabel, Olivia, August (and Daisy)
"Cute card, huh?" I said to Mom, who had hardly said a word to me all the way home. I think she honestly just didn't know what to say.
December 18
Dear Julian,
I am very, very, very sorry for hitting you. It was wrong of me. I hope you are okay. I hope your grownup tooth grows in fast. Mine always do.
Sincerely,
Jack Will
December 26
Dear Jack,
Thank you so much for your letter. One thing I've learned after being a middle-school director for twenty years: there are almost always more than two sides to every story. Although I don't know the details, I have an inkling about what may have sparked the confrontation with Julian.
While nothing justifies striking another student—ever —I also know good friends are sometimes worth defending. This has been a tough year for a lot of students, as the first year of middle school usually is.
Keep up the good work, and keep being the fine boy we all know you are.
All the best, Lawrence Tushman Middle-School Director
To: [email protected] Cc: johnw [email protected]; amandawill@ copperbeech.org Fr: [email protected] Subject: Jack Will
Dear Mr. Tushman,
I spoke with Amanda and John Will yesterday, and they expressed their regret at Jack's having punched our son, Julian, in the mouth. I am writing to let you know that my husband and I support your decision to allow Jack to return to Beecher Prep after a two-day suspension. Although I think hitting a child would be valid grounds for expulsion in other schools, I agree such extreme measures aren't warranted here. We
have known the Will family since our boys were in kindergarten, and are confident that every measure will be taken to ensure this doesn't happen again.
To that end, I wonder if Jack's unexpectedly violent behavior might have been a result of too much pressure being placed on his young shoulders? I am speaking specifically of the new child with special needs who both Jack and Julian were asked to "befriend." In retrospect, and having now seen the child in question at various school functions and in the class pictures, I think it may have been too much to ask of our children to be able to process all that. Certainly, when Julian mentioned he was having a hard time befriending the boy, we told him he was "off the hook" in that regard. We think the transition to middle school is hard enough without having to place greater burdens or hardships on these young, impressionable minds. I should also mention that, as a member of the school board, I was a little disturbed that more consideration was not given during this child's application process to the fact that Beecher Prep is not an inclusion school. There are many parents—myself included—who question the decision to let this child into our school at all. At the very least, I am somewhat troubled that this child was not held to the same stringent application standards (i.e. interview) that the rest of the incoming middle-school students were.
Best,
Melissa Perper Albans
To: [email protected] Fr: [email protected] Cc: [email protected]; amandawill@ copperbeech.org Subject: Jack Will
Dear Mrs. Albans,
Thanks for your email outlining your concerns. Were I not convinced that Jack Will is extremely sorry for his actions, and were I not confident that he would not repeat those actions, rest assured that I would not be allowing him back to Beecher Prep.
As for your other concerns regarding our new student August, please note that he does not have special needs. He is neither disabled, handicapped, nor developmentally delayed in any way, so there was no reason to assume anyone would take issue with his admittance to Beecher Prep—whether it is an inclusion school or not. In terms of the application process, the admissions director and I both felt it within our right to hold the interview off-site at August's home for reasons that are obvious.
