The Good War, Page 2

  * * *

  Emma sat with the class shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh high up in the gym bleachers. She put her hoodie beside her to save a place for Caleb. Everyone around her was sneaking peeks at their phones. Students were supposed to leave their devices in their lockers, but hardly anyone did. And in a crowded assembly like this, it wasn’t like teachers were going to hike up through the packed bleachers to take the phones away.

  Down on the gym floor, Principal Summers stood at a microphone, urging the students to squeeze in as tightly as possible. “We need to get the whole school in here. So if you’ve brought anything with you, please keep it on your lap.”

  “Hey, Emma, didn’t you hear what Principal Summers just said?” someone asked.

  Emma instantly recognized the voice. Her stomach clenched. It was just her luck that the person sitting on the other side of her hoodie was Mackenzie “Mistress of Microaggressions” Storrs.

  Emma imagined asking, since when did Mackenzie care what Principal Summers said? But she knew that she wouldn’t, because it would lead to the sort of confrontation that she dreaded. Now Mackenzie’s BFF, Isabella Reed, added her two cents. “Let’s see who she’s saving it for.”

  A chill swept through Emma. If those two saw who she was saving the seat for, she was certain to become a target for their ridicule. Some kids liked Caleb, but others called him a suck-up and Extra Credit Caleb behind his back. He reminded Emma of her older sister, Sarah, who as a senior the year before had been voted most likely to succeed. For that reason alone, some kids disliked Sarah. Caleb always came to school neatly dressed, and Emma thought he was charming. In fact, she was secretly thrilled that he asked her to save a seat for him. But now she feared the teasing Mackenzie would heap on her for doing that.

  The gym doors began to open. Emma caught her breath. But it was Zach, not Caleb, who came in. Sitting a few rows in front of Emma, Crosby gave Gavin a nudge and said loudly enough for everyone around them to hear, “Let’s get him to sit in front of us.”

  Emma knew that meant trouble. Zach was slightly bigger than Crosby, but that didn’t stop Crosby from picking on him. Emma suspected that the only reason Crosby got away with it was because Gavin had his back. That was something new. Until this year, Robbie Jones had been Gavin’s best friend. They were two of the best players on the football team and were always together in the hall and at lunch. But over the summer, Robbie moved to Franklin to play football on their middle school team.

  Emma watched as Crosby ordered the kids sitting in front of him to make room. With Gavin sitting next to him, the kids instantly scooched apart. “Hey, Wack, sit here!” Crosby shouted. “We saved you a seat.”

  Zach was already coming up the bleachers. But when he heard Crosby call to him, he stopped and appeared to cower.

  “You heard me, Wack,” Crosby growled, and pointed at the space in front of him. “I want you here.”

  Zach hung his head and climbed up to the spot where Crosby wanted him to sit. Emma felt bad. For as long as she could remember, there had been anti-bullying programs in school. Teachers talked about it in class, and there wasn’t a hall you could walk down without seeing anti-bullying posters. If Crosby didn’t get the message, it was because he didn’t want to.

  The gym doors opened again, and Caleb came in. He stopped at the bottom of the bleachers and scanned the crowd. Emma knew he was looking for her. She yearned to wave, but the thought of what Mackenzie might say terrified her. She was certain that if she let Caleb sit next to her, Mackenzie would take a picture and post it along with some malicious comment. So she ducked down and hoped Caleb wouldn’t see her.

  * * *

  Caleb had never seen the gym bleachers so packed. The assembly was about to begin, and when he couldn’t find Emma in the crowd, he sat down in a bleacher aisle. Kids weren’t supposed to sit in the aisles, but no one seemed to care much about rules anymore.

  While Principal Summers told the students to quiet down and get ready for “a delightful and inspiring assembly,” Caleb thought back to what had just happened in the hall. When he told Ms. B about Crosby’s plan to cheat on the geometry test, she said she already knew about it. But how? Who could have told her before he had? He gazed at the many red and white football banners that hung on the gym walls: Middle School State champions. Conference Champions. State Runner-Up. It wasn’t easy to feel delighted or inspired about school now that they’d lost their football team.

  “Okay, everyone,” Principal Summers shouted enthusiastically, “let’s give it up for one of our most famous Ironville alumni, Harry the Hoopster!”

  Out of the boys’ locker room came a skinny, bow-legged, gray-haired guy wearing long white basket shorts and a baggy white jersey. He was dribbling two basketballs at once. The bleachers went silent. Caleb imagined that most of the crowd was thinking: Is this for real?

  Caleb had never heard of Harry the Hoopster, who looked old and bony enough to be his grandfather. Scratch that. Harry looked ancient enough to be Caleb’s great-grandfather. His wrinkled and saggy skin was practically the color of milk. He was so pale, it looked like he hadn’t been out in the sun since the invention of Pac-Man. Tufts of hair poked out around the neckline of his jersey like small white weeds.

  Caleb understood that the school wanted to keep students engaged now that the football program had been cut. But was hiring an old coot who could barely stand up straight the best way to do that? Just then, one of the basketballs Harry was dribbling bounced away, and he had to chase it. Snickers rippled across the bleachers.

  It took a while for Harry to dribble both balls over to the microphone. Then into the mic he said, “Why did the basketball coach want a frog on the squad? Because he heard it had a great jump shot!”

  The joke was met with groans, but that didn’t stop the old guy. “You hear about the basketball player who signed up for arts and crafts? He wanted to learn how to make baskets!”

  There were more groans from the crowd. But Harry plowed forward, spinning a basketball on his finger, then on his elbow, and then on his head. All the while he talked about character building, sharing, caring, and kindness. Caleb wondered if, with the football program gone, someone thought it would be a good idea to encourage kids to focus on basketball instead. So they hired old Harry to get everyone psyched up while he impressed them with his mastery of basketball spinning.

  It was almost beyond pathetic.

  Suddenly, there were murmurs and giggles all around Caleb. Phones were vibrating, and kids were sneaking peeks. Caleb looked over the shoulder of the boy in front of him. Someone had AirDropped a GIF of a bony old man wearing a skimpy Speedo and flexing his scrawny muscles.

  The crowd spent the rest of the assembly looking at their phones. At first Caleb was surprised that Principal Summers didn’t try to stop them. Unless she, too, had decided the assembly was a mistake. And as long as the kids were occupied by their phones, at least they were being quiet.

  The presentation ended, and Harry the Hoopster asked if anyone had a question. An awkward silence followed. The only sound was the bleachers creaking. Then Crosby leaned forward and whispered something into Zach’s ear. When Zach shook his head, Crosby made a threatening fist and held it low where only Zach and those around him could see.

  Zach reluctantly raised his hand. “Mr. Hoopster, sir. Don’t you think there should be a law against old guys wearing shorts?”

  * * *

  The assembly was over and Zach was in trouble again. Back at her desk in her classroom, Ms. B wondered why she worried about him. He certainly wasn’t the only kid in school who got into mischief. But during the assembly, Ms. B was looking up at the bleachers when she saw Crosby whisper into Zach’s ear. Of course, she couldn’t hear what Crosby said. But a moment later Zach asked that silly question. So she had reason to feel suspicious. Ms. B knew that Zach could be foolish at times, but she doub
ted he’d ask that question in front of the whole school if he wasn’t forced to. Deep down, Ms. B felt a connection with Zach. She, too, had been picked on at that age. Only in her case, there’d been no one to help her deal with it.

  Just then, she looked out the classroom door and saw Caleb pass in the hallway. “Caleb?” she called. “Could I speak to you?”

  He came in. Ms. B had gotten to know him well during the past year: First while he pestered her to take the idea of an eSports club seriously. And then while they worked together on the grant proposal. He could be so determined and persuasive, and she’d come to believe he could do anything he set his mind to. Besides, they’d shared confidences. She felt she could trust him. He’d told her about Crosby’s plan to cheat on the geometry test. In her opinion, Caleb Arnett was a reliable boy.

  “Looks like your dream of an eSports club is about to come true,” she said to him. “Congratulations.”

  Caleb beamed. “Amazing, huh?”

  Ms. B nodded. “Can I ask you a favor?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  “Would you try to get Zach Cook to come to the informational meeting this afternoon? I think it would be good for him.”

  * * *

  It was sixth period and Zach was relieved to be in the safe confines of the library where he didn’t have to worry about Ratface Crosby bothering him. Snot rockets like Ratface would rather lick toilets than be seen in the library.

  It had been a stressful day for Zach. After Ratface forced him to ask that dumb question during the assembly, he’d spent most of the morning in the office waiting for Principal Summers to mete out his punishment—she’d given a stern lecture and a week of lunchtime detentions sitting at a table facing teachers. He and his fellow prisoners weren’t allowed to speak. They couldn’t even rest their heads on their arms. Was there any punishment worse than having to look at teachers across a table for forty minutes?

  So it was a relief to be in the library during a free period. Zach had taken over two PCs. On one he played Minecraft, one of the few games the school district’s filters allowed. On the other, he watched surfing videos.

  Then, out of nowhere, Extra Credit Caleb sat down beside him. “Minecraft and surfing, huh?” the kid said. “You see on Twitch about people building the Taj Mahal on MC? The details are amazing!”

  Zach wasn’t sure what to do. He and Caleb had been in school together since kindergarten, but they’d hardly ever spoken. Zach paused the game and glanced around the library. Was this a prank? Were Caleb’s friends hiding in the stacks, watching or recording them? Meanwhile, Caleb pointed at the other computer screen. “You into surfing? Cool.”

  Why is Caleb Arnett trying to be friendly? Zach wondered. What does he want? Is he just going to sit there and talk the whole period?

  Zach began to blink and bounce his knees rapidly. At a loss for what to do, he turned to the other keyboard and pulled up “Biggest wave ever surfed.” He and Caleb watched the tiny image of extreme surfer Marc Nguyen scudding down the face of a giant blue wall of curling water at Nazaré.

  “Biggest wave ever?” Caleb said. “Sick.”

  Once again, Zach looked around to check if anyone was watching. But he also knew Caleb wasn’t the type to play tricks or make fun of someone. He was one of those kids whose hair was always neatly trimmed. His shirt was always tucked in and his sneakers looked new and barely scuffed. He was too much of a do-gooder to be openly mean.

  “So listen,” Caleb said. “Know the eSports club Ms. B is starting?”

  Zach frowned. eSports club?

  “Remember the morning announcements?” Caleb caught himself and grinned. “You were busy watching your phone in that notebook, right?”

  Zach felt his face turn warm with embarrassment. He recalled how Caleb had come back to the classroom while Ms. B was chewing him out about the notebook.

  “What were you watching anyway?” Caleb asked.

  “Good War tutorials,” Zach said, barely above a whisper.

  “That’s what I’m playing!” Caleb gushed. “Don’t you love how smooth the gameplay is? And how the developers actually care about keeping it balanced? Real boots-on-the-ground combat. Not one of those dumb FPS extravaganzas set in the year AD six million with all that made-up futuristic crap, you know?”

  Zach nodded. It sounded like Caleb knew what he was talking about.

  “Know what would be super cool?” Caleb asked excitedly. “If that’s the game the eSports club plays.”

  Fat chance, Zach thought. The Good War was rated M. No way would it ever get through the district web filter. And he still didn’t understand why Caleb was telling him this. Zach didn’t like school, and he didn’t like clubs. Why would he like a school club?

  “Want to give it a try?” Caleb asked.

  Why is he trying to get me to be in a club? Zach wondered. Caleb had never shown any interest in him before. Normally, Caleb was interested only in things that gave him a chance to excel and show everyone he was the best.

  “I mean,” Caleb went on, “don’t you at least want to check out those Providia X-Masters? They freaking sound awesome.”

  Zach had to admit that Caleb seemed sincere. It was so rare that anyone at school wanted anything to do with him. He said he’d think about it.

  * * *

  “So, Ms. B caught you,” Gavin said to Crosby. School had just ended, and they were walking to the computer lab to see what the new eSports club was all about.

  “She didn’t catch me,” Crosby muttered angrily. Twenty minutes ago, in the middle of the geometry test, Ms. B suddenly told Crosby to join her out in the hall. There she asked to see the sides of his fingers, where he’d written the formulas in tiny letters and numbers. Then she told him to go down to the boys’ room and scrub his hands.

  “Then how did she know?” Gavin asked.

  Good question, Crosby thought. There was only one person he’d told about his plan to cheat, and that was Gavin. Crosby didn’t want to believe that Gavin would rat on him, but then, he didn’t actually know Gavin that well, did he? It was only for the past month that Gavin had let Crosby hang out with him, and the guy never wanted to talk about anything personal.

  “Somebody must’ve told her,” Crosby said, curious to see how Gavin would react. A bunch of sixth graders were gathered in the middle of the hall ahead of them, but when they saw Gavin approaching, they quickly moved to the side. Crosby enjoyed walking with Gavin. Nobody, not even the eighth graders, dared mess with the big red-haired seventh grader. Crosby liked to bask in the glow of power that seemed to radiate from the guy.

  “Oh yeah?” Gavin said. “Who do you think told her?”

  Does Gavin really not know? Crosby wondered. Or is he just pretending in order to throw me off the scent?

  * * *

  Emma was walking toward the computer lab when someone behind her said, “Hey.” She turned. It was Caleb. “Thought you were going to save me a seat at the assembly,” he said.

  Emma felt her face flush. “I did. I saw you come into the gym but you didn’t see me.” That was sort of true. Though, with Mackenzie and Isabella there, Emma hadn’t tried to be seen.

  Caleb’s eyebrows dipped. “I thought I looked everywhere.”

  “Maybe you didn’t see me because it was so crowded,” Emma said lamely. For the next few steps, neither of them spoke. Emma felt bad. Surely Caleb suspected she wasn’t being entirely truthful. When in doubt, change the subject, she thought. “Ms. B said you had something to do with the eSports club?”

  Caleb explained how last spring he’d collected a bunch of news stories about schools that were launching clubs and showed them to Ms. B. And how he wrote the grant proposal for the new computers.

  “You wrote it?” Emma asked, surprised that Caleb, who’d been a sixth grader last spring, had done something like that.

&n
bsp; “Sure,” Caleb said with a grin. “I mean, I got some help from Ms. B and my parents. But the thing is, the people who read those grant proposals have no idea how old you are.”

  Emma was impressed. Writing a grant proposal sounded complicated. But it was just the sort of thing Caleb would do. Suddenly, Caleb leaned close to her. “Know what? Maybe it would be better if you didn’t tell anyone about the grant,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I already have a reputation for being a suck-up.”

  Emma felt honored that he’d confided in her. She wondered if it was because they’d partnered on a project in art the year before. The assignment was to make spray-paint landscapes. Most of the kids in the class just used the materials the art teacher provided, but as always, Caleb wanted to do more. Emma found his enthusiasm infectious and was happy to be his accomplice. While the rest of the class did traditional landscapes like forests and mountains, Caleb suggested they do an underwater scene with corals and fish, a shipwreck and sea turtles. They’d researched the idea together. Then Caleb found foam brushes and palette knives, while Emma got specially colored spray paints. Together they turned an everyday art project into something unusual. And in the process, she’d developed a little crush on him.

  By now they were nearing the computer lab. “So, uh, you going to the gaming meeting?” Caleb asked. “You’re a gamer?”

  “Who isn’t?” Emma said, feeling proud because she thought that sounded clever.

  Caleb grinned. “Yeah, right?”

  It felt good that Caleb appreciated her humor. Most of the time, the only person who got to appreciate it was Emma herself. Because she rarely said such things out loud.