فصل 24

CHAPTER 24

Imaginary Hero

Mr. Daniels asks us to write about our favorite fictional character—a person we consider to be a hero—and be ready to tell the class about who it is. It’s funny how much trouble Albert has with this. He tells Mr. Daniels that looking up to a character that isn’t real is illogical, but Mr. Daniels tells him it will be good for him, which confuses the heck out of Albert. He mumbles all the way back to his seat. Albert never mumbles. He either talks or he doesn’t.

Oliver is in his seat listing the names of every superhero I’ve ever heard of. Superman, Captain America, Batman. He looks upset when he turns to Suki nearby. Is Robin a superhero? I mean, his outfit isn’t scary. At all. And he has no special powers. But Batman doesn’t really, either. But at least Batman can drive the Batmobile and fly the Batplane. Robin just rides along. I don’t think I’d want to just ride along. What do you think?

Suki opens her mouth but no sound comes out. It doesn’t matter, because Oliver has moved on. Spider- Man. Maybe I’ll write about him. He holds up his palm in Suki’s face. He shoots webs. And he swings from buildings. That would be the BEST!

Hey, freak, Shay whispers, glancing over at Mr. Daniels, who is working with someone at his desk, to make sure he can’t hear. We don’t need to hear every weird thought in your tiny little brain. We’re trying to work.

Oliver’s face is unmoving. Until he says, If. I. Were. Aquaman. I. Would. Summon. The piranhas. To take you away. You could be their queen.

Keisha starts laughing and Mr. Daniels finally looks up. Keisha?

She puts her arm down on her desk and leans her forehead against it. Trying to stop laughing. The more she tries, the more Shay glares. With Mr. Daniels watching, most everyone goes back to their work. After a while, even Keisha does.

But I keep looking around the room. I love how Albert can’t choose one character while Oliver wants to write about everyone.

However, I don’t love how much trouble I’m having writing about my character. Makes me wish that I were a fictional character.

• • •

When Mr. Daniels calls me up to his desk, he’s holding my paper. A teacher holding my paper is rarely a good thing. But Mr. Daniels doesn’t cover my papers with red ink like other teachers. They used to look like they were bleeding.

Mr. Daniels has written in green and he apologizes for not being able to read my writing. He says that my character sounds really interesting, but he’d like to know a bit more. Will you read this out loud for me?

Uh-oh. I take it, squeezing my eyes into slits. Trying to read my own writing. I wait for him to pressure me to try harder. To do something I can’t do.

He slides the paper out of my hand. Well, he says, why don’t you just tell me instead of reading? First of all, tell me your person’s name.

I feel such relief that I’m afraid to blink. I hate this pressure. But this time I’ve been saved. I keep my voice down so no one can hear. It’s Roy G. Biv.

Oh, wait, he says. Like the colors of the color spectrum?

I nod.

He stares. Before he can tell me I’ve messed up the directions, I say, You said fictional, and I figured you meant a book character like Alice from Alice in Wonderland, but Roy isn’t real and there isn’t any other character that means as much to me as him. I love the colors and I use them in my art and art is about the only thing . . . I stop before I confess to feeling like a failure at everything else.

That’s clever, Ally, he tells me. I actually like that you chose someone who isn’t a book character, exactly. You think out of the box.

I see a mind movie of me standing outside a huge glass box. Everyone else is inside it. Together.

Do you know what it means to think out of the box? he asks.

I shake my head.

It means that you are a creative thinker. You think differently than other people.

Great. Just once, I want to be told I’m like everyone else.

It’s a good thing to be an out-of-the-box thinker. People like that are world-changers.

Wait. His face doesn’t look like this is a bad thing. Is that like setting the world on fire? I ask, smiling a bit.

Exactly that. He nods.

Then he stares at me long enough for me to wonder what he’s thinking before sending me back to my seat.

• • •

The next day, when it’s time to tell the class who my character is, I begin by asking everyone what their favorite color is. It’s fun. I think this part of being a teacher would be cool. I’d rather eat crayons than do the rest of it, though.

I take out a color wheel that I made at home. It’s white cardboard and I’ve broken it into seven pie-shaped pieces. I figured out that each angle has to be about 51 degrees to have seven equal pie pieces. I used Travis’s protractor to draw the lines exactly. Then I colored each piece with a different Roy G. Biv color and I made them really dark. What color do you get if you mix all the colors together? I ask. Most kids guess dark colors.

My favorite color is white, I say, because it is a mixture of all the colors.

Albert nods a little.

Shay tells everyone that it makes no sense, but I know the answer.

If you mix paint together, that’s true, but if you’re talking about just the colors, pure in nature, they make white when mixed together. I brought this wheel to prove it. I feel like a magician. I show them the wheel with all its colors. Then I stick a paper clip that I’ve unbent through a hole in the center and spin the wheel. It turns white as it spins fast. As it slows down, the colors reappear.

Jessica leans forward. That’s pretty cool.

Shay looks at her with squinty eyes until Max agrees. Then she nods and agrees, too.

Are you going to give that away? Oliver asks.

I hesitate. I wasn’t going to . . . I look down at it. But I guess I could.

You like that, huh, Oliver? Mr. Daniels asks.

I’d give it to my bus driver. She likes things with rainbow colors.

Well, that’s thoughtful of you, Oliver! Mr. Daniels says.

I sit down at my desk, thinking about whether I should give the colored disc to Oliver. Jessica and Shay are talking behind me.

Can I have another bracelet? Jessica asks Shay.

I don’t think so. I can hardly keep up with people wanting them. Besides, you already have enough.

Well, I wouldn’t mind another.

There is a pause and I want to turn around. But I’m not supposed to be listening in.

Listen, Shay says. You have seven already. I have other orders to fill first. And besides that, you still owe me three dollars for the last one. I’m not giving you another until you pay me for what’s already on your wrist.

Wait. I whip around. I can’t help it. You charge your friends for those friendship bracelets?

Eavesdrop much? Yeah, so what? You want one?

Jessica leans forward. Wait. You’re going to give her one?

No, idiot. I’m not going to give her one. She’s going to pay me. But you know what? Ally should pay more. A lot more. She turns to me. Ten dollars.

I laugh. Uh, no, thanks. I’d rather wear handcuffs.

I can’t believe Shay charges her friends for something that’s supposed to stand for loyalty and friendship. And I can’t believe they paid.

You are such a dope, Ally Nickerson, Shay says.

I look over at Keisha and Albert and realize that I have been. I’ve been lucky all along but didn’t see it.