Number One Kid

  Ellie laughed. She looked at her watch. “Enough for today.”

  She plastered a sticker on Mitchell’s shirt. It was a killer rabbit. She gave one to Habib, too.

  “Come back tomorrow,” she said.

  “I guess so,” Mitchell said.

  Out in the hall, he and Habib ran into a hundred kids.

  Some were on their way to the gym. Some peeled off at the art room.

  Mrs. Farelli was the art teacher.

  She was almost as tough as Zelda A. Zigzag.

  Mitchell inched his way along. He kept his eyes open for the mask.

  He hoped it wasn’t on the floor. It would look as if a cow had run over it.

  In the gym, Sumiko was swinging on a rope. She was almost to the ceiling. “I know two other words,” she called. “Mother and father.”

  Sumiko would probably win a trip to Japan.

  Mitchell would have to cross that prize off his list.

  Terrible Thomas, the cat, had sneaked in again. Mitchell hopped over him.

  Thomas swiped out his paw.

  “Yeow!” Mitchell yelled.

  Mitchell looked into the music room. “Meeee meeeee meee,” a girl sang. She sounded like a singing chicken.

  She wore a loopy pearl thing around her neck. It hung down to her waist.

  “That’s Gina from my class,” Habib said. “She wants to win a prize for opera.”

  The music teacher held his head. Maybe he had a toothache.

  Mitchell knew he wouldn’t win a prize for singing. He sang like his dog, Maggie.

  The music teacher saw them. “Come on in.”

  They walked into the room. Slowly.

  Everyone began to sing. Mitchell sang without making a sound.

  Tomorrow Mr. Oakley was taking them to the nature center. That would be better than singing.

  He was going to give nature his best try.

  CHAPTER 5

  WEDNESDAY

  Mitchell ate his snack in one gulp. It was string cheese. His favorite.

  He had to hurry. He was late for Homework Help.

  No one was there except Habib. And Ellie.

  Habib had taken off his sneakers. He must be counting on his toes.

  Mitchell wrote in a quick burst:

  Sometimes losers should get a pris.

  It would make them feel good.

  Ellie leaned over. “What’s a pris?”

  Mitchell slapped his forehead. “Prize.”

  He pulled out the hot dog. Too bad it was falling apart.

  He erased the s. He wrote z.

  “Excellent,” Ellie said. “Just stick an e on the end. You’re all set.”

  He wrote a little more.

  Then it was time for the nature center. He raced upstairs with Habib. They passed Peter Petway. He was heading for the gym.

  That reminded Mitchell. He’d heard Angel talking to Yolanda. “I hate to walk home with Mitchell,” she’d said. Now Yolanda must think he was a loser, too.

  Habib poked him. “Come on.”

  They shot outside. Just in time!

  Ramón led the line. Mr. Oakley came next.

  Mr. Oakley said he was in love with nature.

  Angel and Yolanda were up in front with Destiny.

  Today Destiny’s hair was green. “In honor of nature,” she said.

  Habib was juggling. He scrambled for the balls.

  Mr. Oakley walked to the end of the line.

  He walked with Mitchell. “Hello there,” he said.

  Mitchell liked the look of Mr. Oakley. He had puffs of hair coming out of his ears. Like little earmuffs.

  “Up ahead is the Steven Z. Zigzag Nature Center,” said Mr. Oakley.

  “Maybe that’s Zelda Zigzag’s husband,” Mitchell said.

  “You’re right! I see you’re a thinker,” Mr. Oakley said.

  Too bad Angel hadn’t heard that.

  They walked up a skinny path. “Look.” Mr. Oakley pointed toward the bushes. “Don’t go close.”

  Mitchell hoped it wasn’t a pack of wild animals. Maybe coyotes. They could be hiding in the weeds.

  They’d bite your leg right off.

  Was a nature prize worth having to walk around with just one leg?

  Angel was right next to the bushes. In danger.

  He darted up to her. He pushed her out of the way. She landed in a pile of bushes.

  Angel gave him her worst look. A pushed-up nose and squinty eyes.

  “Sorry,” Mitchell said.

  Mr. Oakley helped her up. “I was going to tell you. Those plants are poison ivy. So don’t touch. See? Three leaves, shiny green.” He shook his head. “You can get an itchy rash. Better wash when you get home.”

  “I have poison ivy in my yard,” Habib said. He sounded proud.

  Mr. Oakley looked at Habib’s arm. “So I see.”

  Habib was probably going to win the nature prize, Mitchell thought.

  Mr. Oakley bent over. Mitchell hoped he wouldn’t fall into the poison ivy, too. He started forward.

  Before Mitchell could save him, Mr. Oakley stood up. “Here is one of my favorite creatures.” He pointed at the ground.

  All Mitchell saw was a skinny worm.

  “A worm!” Mr. Oakley sounded as if he had just opened a treasure chest.

  Mitchell tried to look as if he’d opened a treasure chest, too.

  “They tunnel through the earth,” Mr. Oakley said. “They make the soil fluffy. Plants have room to grow.”

  Like poison ivy, Mitchell thought.

  “Now for the best part,” said Mr. Oakley.

  They walked about a hundred miles.

  “I’m ready to fall on the ground,” Habib said. “I don’t think I’m a nature person.”

  “Me neither,” Mitchell said. “Not if we have to walk till our feet fall off.”

  At last, they saw a bunch of trees. “Apple trees,” said Mr. Oakley. “Take an apple.”

  “I’ll take a couple,” Habib said. “I’ll juggle with them.”

  Everyone jumped up to pick apples.

  Mitchell was too tired to jump. He scooped two apples off the ground. One for him. The other for Angel. To make up for the poison ivy.

  “Don’t take them from the ground,” Mr. Oakley said.

  It was too late. Mitchell bit into his apple …

  Right into one of Mr. Oakley’s favorite creatures.

  He dropped the apple. The other half of the favorite creature was still wiggling. “Sorry, worm,” he said.

  “Eww!” Angel spit out her bite of apple. She began to scream. She grabbed her throat. “I swallowed a worm!”

  “Oh, no!” Yolanda yelled. “Angel’s been poisoned!”

  “I might end up in the hospital.” Angel wiped her mouth hard.

  She stared at Mitchell. “Because of you, Mitchell ‘Number Eighty-seven’ McCabe.”

  Mr. Oakley sighed. “You’re all right. A worm won’t hurt you.”

  Mitchell sighed, too.

  He wasn’t going to win a nature prize.

  CHAPTER 6

  THURSDAY

  Mitchell stopped at the kindergarten shelf. He saw Clifton’s mask. The mask had big teeth. There was a big C on one tooth. There was a D on the other.

  But where was Trevor’s mask?

  Mitchell had to find it before Peter Petway found out he had lost it.

  It wasn’t on the stairs.

  Maybe it was in the schoolyard.

  Too bad it was raining outside. The Zelda A. Zigzag School smelled like his dog, Maggie.

  Mitchell took another sniff. It smelled a little like his old school, too.

  It was time to search. But now his raincoat had disappeared.

  He never could find anything! Angel was right about that!

  He’d go outside to look anyway.

  He’d have to skip Homework Help. He’d have to skip Ellie with her three freckles.

  What about snack?

  He couldn’t skip that. He’d ha
ve a hole in his stomach.

  Mitchell dashed to the lunchroom. He was fast enough to be first in line for leftover pizza.

  Habib was right behind him. They looked out the windows.

  Habib twirled his hand around. “It’s dark out there. Windy. It looks like a—a what-do-you-call-it?”

  Mitchell frowned. “Something like a tomato.” Wasn’t that a big wind that carried people away?

  Never mind. He still had to go outside. He had to find that mask.

  He took a bite of pizza. It looked like cardboard. It tasted like cardboard, too.

  “Could I have the pizza box?” Mitchell asked the lunch lady.

  She tucked one ear in her shower cap. She handed him the box.

  Mitchell took another pizza slice.

  He went up the stairs and opened the door.

  Wow! It was raining hard. He could hardly see the schoolyard. Maybe there was a flood. He might drown.

  He went out anyway.

  “Yeow.” He held the box over his head. It made an almost-umbrella. He took a bite of pizza.

  He splashed through the giant puddles. He looked for the mask. It wasn’t in the playground area. It wasn’t near the windows.

  His #1 T-shirt was stuck to his back.

  Pizza sauce ran down his face.

  He jumped into the air. He landed in the mud.

  It felt great.

  Angel called from the storeroom window. “Is that blood all over you?” She sounded worried.

  Mitchell sighed. “It’s pizza sauce.”

  “You’re going to be soaked. You can get sick from all that rain.”

  Mitchell checked behind the bushes. No mask. Just Terrible Thomas hiding from the rain.

  “Miiiiitchell!” Angel screeched.

  “I’m coming,” he yelled.

  “I won’t even have a brother.”

  “I’m coming in right now.” He dropped the pizza box into the litter basket.

  In the hall, he shook himself like Maggie. Drops flew all over.

  Ms. Katz stood there. She held his raincoat out with one finger. “Get a towel from the boys’ room. Wipe yourself off.”

  Mitchell took his raincoat. “Thanks.”

  “It was in the lunchroom. Under a table.” Ms. Katz sighed. “Everyone was stepping on it.”

  He remembered now. He had left it there at lunchtime.

  Ms. Katz leaned forward. “I lose things, too. My gloves, my umbrella.”

  She grinned at Mitchell. Then she hurried away.

  He went into the boys’ room.

  Trevor was looking at himself in the mirror. “Eeeee-yah!” he yelled.

  Mitchell ducked out again. He had a terrible feeling about the mask.

  He shivered. He wrapped his raincoat around him. He was soaking wet and freezing.

  He sat on the bottom step.

  Peter Petway came down the stairs.

  Mitchell hid his face. He certainly looked like a loser. He was covered with mud. And pizza sauce.

  Peter jumped over him and ran off.

  Then Mitchell thought about Angel.

  Sometimes she surprised him.

  She was worried about him.

  That made him feel pretty good.

  He sat up straight. Maybe he wasn’t such a loser after all.

  CHAPTER 7

  FRIDAY

  Last day of the week. Great!

  Today the Afternoon Center kids were going swimming.

  Mitchell had found his bathing suit before school. It was under his bed, still damp from the end of the summer.

  It had a ton of sand in it.

  He held it up to his nose. What a smell.

  He hoped no one would notice.

  He had forgotten his best lunch, too. A ham sandwich with enough lettuce for a rabbit.

  Sumiko lent him money for hot lunch.

  It was the worst lunch in the world: meat chunks in glue.

  At last, the bell rang. The loudspeaker blared. “Time for swimming.”

  They headed for the bus line.

  Mitchell let Habib cut in front of him.

  Habib let Destiny cut in front of him.

  Sumiko cut in front of Destiny.

  And some kid stepped in between Destiny and Sumiko. Mitchell thought his name might be Charlie.

  Mitchell turned. Peter Petway was near the end of the line.

  “Let’s get moving,” Peter said.

  Mitchell hoped Peter didn’t know he had started all that cutting.

  The bus pulled up. The kids packed in like meat chunks in glue.

  Angel and Yolanda sat in front of Mitchell and Habib. “What’s that smell?” Yolanda asked.

  “Someone’s wet bathing suit,” Angel said. “Eew.”

  Mitchell took his bathing suit bag off his lap. He sat on it.

  He watched Angel practice swimming in her seat. “Here I come, prize,” she said. She wiggled her arms.

  Mitchell crossed his fingers. Maybe there were two prizes for swimming.

  He wiggled his arms.

  At last, they were there.

  The boys went to one locker room. The girls went to another. Lockers banged. Everyone changed.

  “Something smells around here,” a boy said.

  Mitchell didn’t look up. It sounded like Peter Petway.

  Mitchell raced out of the locker room.

  He couldn’t wait to get into the pool. It would wash away the smell of his bathing suit. It would get rid of that ton of sand.

  “Great suit,” Yolanda was telling Mr. Oakley.

  Mitchell blinked. Mr. Oakley’s bathing suit had zigzags. It came down to his knobby knees.

  Sumiko wore a red bathing suit. Mitchell’s favorite color.

  Mitchell slid into the pool. “Yeow!” he yelled. It was up to his knees, and freezing.

  They had to stay at the shallow end until they passed a swimming test.

  Mitchell had to swim about a hundred miles to pass. He’d probably sink any minute.

  But Mr. Oakley blew his whistle. “A-one effort, Mitchell,” he said. “You passed.”

  Mitchell floated along, catching his breath. Then he went down to the bottom. He pretended he was a stingray.

  He opened his eyes.

  What were all those tan dots?

  He shot up. His mouth was filled with water. So was his nose.

  He tried to breathe.

  Then he spotted Angel.

  She had sunk to the bottom, too.

  She might not be a stingray. She might be drowning.

  He grabbed her mouse tail hair. He yanked hard.

  She came up sputtering. She waded away.

  Mr. Oakley blew his whistle. “No ducking, pushing, or pulling, guys,” he called. “Safety first.”

  Mitchell began to swim across the pool.

  The other side was far away.

  Very far away.

  He scrunched down. He waved his arms. He walked across the bottom.

  “Good job. You swam halfway,” Ellie said. “I’ll give you a great sticker tomorrow.”

  Mitchell knew it wasn’t a good job. Swimming with your feet on the bottom wasn’t really A-1.

  Habib sat at the side of the pool. “Too bad I can’t go in,” he said. “Not with poison ivy.”

  Mitchell waved to Sumiko. She was sitting on the high diving board. “I know the Japanese word for water,” she yelled down.

  Mitchell tried to swim again. But his arms were tired. He turned over and floated.

  Kids were splashing. Peter Petway was swimming underwater. Mitchell waded away from him.

  Hey. Where was Angel?

  What if she had drowned? He wouldn’t have a sister.

  He dived down. She wasn’t there.

  She wasn’t anywhere.

  Then he saw her. Whew!

  She was sitting behind a post. Was she hiding? Why was she there all by herself?

  CHAPTER 8

  SATURDAY

  Mitchell thought the Afterno
on Center would be closed on Saturday.

  It wasn’t, though.

  Not everyone was there. Some kids had other things to do.

  But Mitchell didn’t have one thing to do. Neither did Habib.

  Mitchell was a little sorry Ellie was there. He’d have to go to Homework Help.

  Almost no one else ever went. Just him. And Habib.

  Mitchell didn’t want Ellie to be lonely.

  He went in and began to write:

  Saturday was a day off in my old school.

  It was locked up.

  Sometimes I liked that.

  Sometimes I didn’t.

  Ramón came into the room. He was always carrying a math book.

  He was studying math in college.

  Today Ramón and Habib were going to work on numbers.

  Mitchell shook his head. Ramón wasn’t so smart.

  He should have learned numbers by fifth grade. Even Peter Petway must know all that stuff by now.

  Mitchell kept writing.

  Habib was counting under his breath.

  Ellie began to talk to Ramón. She looked happy.

  “You can go now,” she told Mitchell and Habib. She stuck flower stickers on their shirts.

  In the hall, Mitchell and Habib looked at each other. “Flowers!” Habib said.

  They peeled the stickers off.

  They went down the hall to the art room.

  On the way, Mitchell looked for Trevor’s mask.

  He found crumbs from yesterday’s lunch.

  But no mask.

  Mrs. Farelli waved to them from her desk. She had art stuff all over the place.

  Yolanda was drawing a picture. Maybe it was a lion. Mitchell asked her.

  She shook her head. “No, it’s Terrible Thomas.”

  “Good drawing,” Mitchell said.

  What could he work on?

  He had a great idea.

  You’re a thinker, he said to himself in a Mr. Oakley voice.

  Angel came into the room. She took paper and colored pencils to an easel.

  Angel liked to draw.

  Habib found a box of rubber bands. He jumbled them into a ball. “Good for juggling,” he said.

  Mitchell folded a piece of cardboard into four parts.

  Angel looked over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  “Guess.”

  “Making stairs?” Angel asked.