Bluefish Page 4

  After school, Travis couldn't bring himself to go back to the empty house. He turned off Main onto a shady street. A block down, a gravel alley on his right opened into a park. Trees scattered shade over rusty playground equipment, and beyond that, wooden bleachers flanked a baseball diamond behind the Main Street taverns.

  He threw his backpack on the grass and sat on an ancient merry- go- round.

  The surface radiated warmth, and

  Travis pushed the old metal loose from its rust. The unbalanced weight made it dip- squeak as it went around. He pushed again, and the toe of his white sock, sticking out of the hole in his sneaker, came up brown from the dust. Once he got some motion going, he lay back and watched the green leaves overhead swirl against the deep blue backdrop.

  "Hey, Travis."

  He sat up sharp. Bradley Whistler stood looking down at him. Travis dragged his foot to brake. Bradley went to the other side of the merry- go round and kicked a few times to get it going again. The change in weight took out the dip motion, but it still squeaked every time Travis passed the slide.

  "Whatcha doing?" asked Bradley.

  "Nothing," said Travis.

  They squeaked around a few times, and then Bradley said, "So, I was wondering, did you know Velveeta before?"

  "No, why?"

  " 'Cause you two are tight and it's only the second week. She sits by you every day at lunch."

  Every day till now. Bradley must not have seen him sitting alone.

  "How do you know her?"

  "I don't, really," said Travis.

  "Sure seems like she likes you."

  She only liked him because of Bradley's shoe, and that was over now, anyway.

  The merry- go- round's squeaks grew louder in the silence, slowed, then ground to a stop.

  Bradley got off, grabbed the hand bars, pushed a few steps to get it going again, and jumped back on.

  "People say a lot of stuff about her," he said.

  "Like what?"

  "Lots of stuff . Like she gets drunk every night and her brother's a drug dealer.

  And she does the wild thing with older guys. I don't think it's all true, though."

  Travis dug his heel into the dust and stopped the circling. He shifted sideways to look at Bradley.

  "If you don't think it's true, why are you saying it?"

  Bradley blinked and cocked his head.

  "Hm. Why did I say it? Roger roger, that's a really good question."

  He looked down at his feet for a long moment, then back up at Travis.

  "You know how sometimes you don't know something is stupid until it falls out of your mouth and then it's too late?"

  Travis didn't have an answer for that one, since he usually kept his stupid thoughts in his own head. He pushed with his foot to get the squeak going again.

  "I think Velveeta is smart," said Bradley. "I used to think she was dumb."

  "Why'd you think that?"

  "She wore the same clothes all the time and got in fights and stuff . You know how that can make someone seem dumb. So, are you going out With her?"

  "No."

  "Not doing the wild thing?"

  Travis shot Bradley a look.

  "Kidding," said Bradley, putting his hands up. "Sorry."

  "I gotta go." Travis dragged his foot to stop the spin.

  Bradley was starting to make him twitchy, and he didn't need a twitch right now. "Later, Brad."

  "Bradley."

  "Okay, Bradley," said Travis.

  He picked up his backpack and started walking.

  Bradley followed him.

  "I'm sorry. That wasn't funny, about you and Velveeta and the wild thing. I meant it to be funny. I like Velveeta, but I'm kind of scared of her. I've never talked to her."

  "Never?"

  "Well, sometimes when we're in a group or something, but that's all. I think of her as having a sword in her mouth that she whips out and chops you up with before you can even figure out what's going on. So really, you're not going out?

  You're just friends?"

  "We're not going out." Travis said it harder, with an edge.

  "How did you get to be friends? I've never been friends with a girl."

  They cut between the buildings to Main Street.

  Bradley either didn't notice that Travis was edgy or he didn't care. He kept right on like they were buddies, like they talked about girls and friends all the time.

  "I turn here," he said when they got to Water Street.

  "See you tomorrow?"

  No smoking guys on the picnic table, so Travis leaned on the bridge railing and watched Bradley walk along Water Street. He'd really been dumb enough to think Velveeta might be his friend. That lasted just long enough to hurt when it was gone. Now he was down to nothing, unless you counted Bradley.

  Travis half wished the picnic- table guys would come up behind him. Wished they'd start something, and then he could blow loose all over them and whatever happened, it wouldn't be his fault.

  The next morning, Travis turned from his locker between first and second bell and slammed into Chad Cormick.

  "Watch it, Roberts," said Cormick.

  Travis's breath stopped in his throat. Cormick shifted in front of him, blocking his way. Travis's shoulders crawled up around his neck, and his hands twitched toward fists.

  "How's your hoop?" Cormick asked.

  "My what?"

  Cormick balanced an imaginary basketball overhead with his right hand, bent his knees, and delivered the ball, jumping high and flicking his wrist. He watched his shot, his hand still hanging in the air, and then shook his head.

  "Air ball." He turned to Travis. "Hoop. Do you?"

  "Not really." Travis's heart still hammered, but his back relaxed and his shoulders eased down.

  "Time to start," said Chad. "This school has a height problem, did you notice?

  We went one and nine last year.

  We practice in the gym at lunch. You and me and the shorties - maybe we can go at least fifty- fifty."

  "I suck." Travis moved to go around Cormick.

  "Tall suck beats short suck." Cormick sidestepped in front of him. "Maybe you need a little practice."

  Just as Travis started to feel crowded, Cormick hopped back, grinning, and dribbled his air ball on the floor between them, practically begging Travis to reach out and make the steal. When he didn't move, Chad juked left and ran down the hall, still dribbling.

  Travis moved along on the wave of kids to first period.

  Relief rivered down his neck and through his shoulders. A fight in the hallway said bluefish almost as clear as tripping over every word when you read out loud. He sat in front of Velveeta's empty seat. She came in the door just as the last bell rang.

  "I see Chad tried to seduce you with his basketball dreams," she said as she slid into her chair.

  Travis turned, surprised she was talking to him. She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows.

  "Velveeta sees all. He asked me yesterday if you played, so I knew he'd be on you about it. You're the only guy in the class taller than him."

  "Tall doesn't mean good."

  "We need some tall here. Have you noticed how short all the guys are?" she said. "It's something in the water.

  Just watch: Cormick only drinks bottled. So you're not going to start basket balling at lunch?"

  "No, I don't like basketball."

  "I like you more all the time. I know you were pining for me at lunch yesterday, so today I will once again grace you with my Velveetic presence."

  She flipped her scarf dramatically over her face and batted her eyelashes at him. He faced front quickly so she wouldn't see the big smile breaking across his face.

  "Okay, settle down," called Ms. Gordon. "Tomorrow, we're going to take the whole class period to work on your projects, so make sure you have everything you need for that. Presentations start Monday."

  "Did you read your part yet?" Velveeta asked.

  Travis shook his head. Velv
eeta tapped her pencil on the tip of his ear.

  "Get on it," she whispered.

  on WEDNESDAY

  I decided why I like Travis. It's not just the pretty eyes. It's everything he doesn't say. I sat withBecca and Megan and Cassidy yesterday, and their mouths gushed like fire hydrants spray- blasting me the whole time. They talked about Travis and said he's cute but dumb and boring, and they waited for me to agree but I did not. I said nothing for once. So then they talked about everybody else in the whole school. You want to talk about boring - THAT was boring.

  Okay, I know, I spray more words out than anybody - I KNOW that. But at least I'm not boring. Not to me, anyway.

  Maybe nobody is boring to themselves, but we all bore the heck out of each other.

  Except Travis. He doesn't bore me at all. I like how his eyes are full of words but mostly he doesn't let them out of his mouth except for a zinger here or there like, "I like your scarf." I know he's not an undercover cop, but I still think he has a secret. Nobody shuts up that much unless they have a secret.

  He gave me his whole dessert today. It was only canned peaches, but still.

  Hey, I know. I bet he's secretly tragically dying of leukemia. That's why he switched schools. He wants to be brave till the end, and not have anybody know.

  But as I was getting up to leave, there was McQueen with his supersonic eyes, staring at us. I bet he knows about Travis's leukemia.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Travis peeled his eyelids open and pulled the towel back to look out the window. Cold gray rain. Plus it was Thursday, social- studies project day. He closed his eyes again.

  "You up yet?" Grandpa yelled.

  Travis gave out something between a grunt and a groan.

  "What's wrong with you?" Grandpa asked, opening the door.

  "I'm sick." The dread in his stomach could easily work its way up to the flu or maybe food poisoning.

  "You going to ralph?"

  "Maybe. Probably."

  "Okay. I'll call in to work so I can stay here and babysit you."

  Grandpa turned back to the kitchen, but he left the door open so Travis could see him at the sink, looking out the window and smoking. The smell and the gray and the closing- in walls of the house made Travis think he really might ralph.

  "I thought you couldn't miss work to babysit me."

  "If you're sick, I'm staying home." Grandpa said it without turning around.

  "Since when?" muttered Travis as he got out of bed.

  "Feeling better?" asked Grandpa when Travis got out of the shower.

  "Yup."

  "Thought so." Grandpa said it with a grin and a cackle.

  The social- studies class spread out around the room in pairs. Velveeta pulled Travis into the back corner, and they sat on the floor. She opened her textbook.

  "So, look," said Velveeta. "I still think this Paleolith-Neolithskit is the way to go.

  We turn this page into a script, and it'll be funny. Me Paleo, you Jane. Ha, ha, ha."

  "I thought homework was against your religion," said Travis.

  "What homework? Who's home? I'm not home - are you home?"

  "I don't really like skits."

  "You'd rather hold up a boring poster and point at it?"

  "I'd rather do neither." If he kept saying no to everything, maybe she'd give up.

  "Look, Travattini. If we gotta get up there, we might as well not be boring. You want to be Neo, then?"

  "No."

  "You've got a better idea? Cough it up."

  "How are you two doing?" Ms. Gordon knelt down next to them.

  "Great," said Velveeta. "We're comparing notes on our reading here."

  "Okay, good. Let me know if you need help."

  "So what do you want to do?" asked Velveeta as Ms.

  Gordon moved on to the next pair.

  "I'm not doing anything," Travis dropped his voice.

  "You should get a different partner."

  "Why? I'm not good enough to be your partner, or what?"

  "I'm not doing the project. Do it without me."

  "Okay, me neither." Velveeta slammed her textbook shut. "No homework means no projects."

  She drew a tic-tac-toe grid, and they played until the bell rang.

  Travis tried to give Velveeta his chocolate pudding at lunch. He handed her the entire bowl, but she pushed it back.

  "You have to keep your strength up," she said. "It'll slide down easy."

  "Keep my strength up for what?"

  "You know."

  Her dishes were already scraped clean. She leaned forward on her elbows and stared at him. Her eyes knocked on his brain, trying to see things he'd rather keep hidden.

  "So if you and Bradley aren't friends," he said, looking for a distraction, "why do you care that I gave his shoe back?"

  Velveeta grinned like he'd just crowned her queen.

  "A question! A complete direct question, just for me.

  You must really like me after all."

  "So why do you?"

  "How do you know we're not friends?"

  "He told me."

  "What did he do, just walk up to you in the hall and say, 'Hey, I am not friends with the Great and Powerful Velveeta'?"

  "No." Travis finished off the pudding. "We hung out in the park the other day."

  "Hung out? You and Bradley Whistler? Very fascinating."

  "So why do you care about his shoe?"

  "I don't. It was the way you did it. There it is, first day of school, like always, somebody stealing Whistler's stuff , him doing the hoppy no- shoe dance."

  She stood up and imitated Bradley's shuffle- step.

  "But then! Mr. Stealth comes rockin' onto the scene" -she took a few steps back and then slid up in a smooth saunter -"and delivers the shoe without one word, all incognito." She passed a pretend shoe behind her back and flipped it to a pretend Bradley. "Then melts into the crowd like Bradley's own personal secret superhero. That was a class act."

  Travis shrugged and looked down at the table. His face burned. Was it red?

  Could she tell?

  The bell rang, and he picked up his tray and followed Velveeta to the garbage can. What would she say if she knew what Bradley had asked, about them doing the wild thing? If she liked complete direct questions so much, she'd love that one.

  As Travis turned toward the hallway, he glanced at the teachers' table.

  McQueen was staring right at him and Velveeta. When he caught Travis's eye, he smiled. Like he knew something.

  on THURSDAY

  After the last bell, Ms. Gordon snagged me and asked why we hadn't turned in a project outline. She made sad eyes and said things about our futures. Not that I have a future, but Travis probably does, so I went by his locker and tried to guilt him on board by saying I'd flunk if he wouldn't be my partner. He said I should ask Bradley Whistler if I needed a partner so bad.

  I think that was a tiny bit mean. Bradley Whistler would never be my partner, even if I begged him, which I won't, but that's not even the point. The point is, Travis sounded all mad when he said it and started walking really fast, like he was trying to ditch me. So I grabbed him by the arm, which was a mistake, because he yanked away like I had cootie slime all over my fingers.

  He said (I still can't believe this), "Quit bugging me. I'm not doing it."

  "Bugging you?" I said, and I sidestepped in front of him because, I don't know, I'm stupid. He looked at me like I was the evil enemy, shoulder banged by, and boom- ka bang, off he went - didn't even look back.

  This does not fit with anything about Travis. What's going on? This whole time I've been thinking he likes me a little bit, maybe more than just ha- ha funny Velveeta to entertain him through his leukemia. But have I actually been bugging him?

  CHAPTER NINE

  Travis steamed through town. His face didn't cool off until he was almost to the bridge. Everyone should just leave him alone, and that included Velveeta.

  The guys sat on the picnic
table. Their eyes crawled on him from way off .

  "Hey, kid, what's your name?" one of them called as he came up close.

  He stalked across the bridge. Why didn't they just do whatever they were going to do? Enough with sitting around yelling stuff.

  "Hey, skinny boy, did you hear my man Chilson? He asked your name. You're not being very polite."

  Travis turned and stared at Chilson, the blond guy.

  Chilson showed his teeth in a fake smile.

  "What's the matter, too scared to talk?" asked the one with long dark hair.

  Travis shook his head and waited, giving them a chance to start it. Chilson flicked a butt in his direction and then turned away. Travis's shoulders went down. He let out a slow breath. Not today. Maybe some other day.

  At dinner, Grandpa passed him some bright-orange mac and cheese out of a box, with frozen peas tossed in, and said, "I've been thinking. You should go out for a sport or get a job."

  "Why?" Travis poked his fork in and came up witha drippy straw stack.

  "You need something to do."

  "I had plenty to do at the old place."

  "Good cold Christ, boy, how long you going to keep chewing that song? Can we just try and live in the present here? Maybe for one day?"

  Travis didn't answer. He scooped up more orange watery macaroni. Grandpa leaned across the table and poked Travis's shoulder with a sharp finger.

  "You answer when I talk to you, boy."

  Travis glared at him.

  "Trying to kill me with that look? Trav, I'm trying here, in case you didn't notice. You think you could climb on board even for a minute?"

  Travis scraped his chair back and took his plate to the sink. When he turned around, Grandpa had gotten to his feet.

  "You wanna take a poke at me?" Grandpa stepped closer. He tapped his white-stubbly, saggy- skinned jaw.

  "Think that might make you feel better?"

  The smell of tobacco and aftershave rolled off him.

  Travis clamped his fists in his pockets and stepped sideways, against the counter.

  "Just leave me alone."

  "No." Grandpa said it soft as he reached out and tapped Travis on the chest with his bony finger. "I won't."