and has to stop.
Javier drops his bag,
plops his butt
in a chair,
makes a quick sketch,
tosses it out on the table.
A door slams
and we all whip around
just in time
to see Mr. Mann storming
again
from Ms. J’s office
like a very mad
cartoon sheriff.
He doesn’t stop storming
as he shouts at all of us:
SOMEONE confesses
or EVERYONE is suspended!
And he disappears
out the door
without DRESS CODING
anyone
at all.
A few minutes later,
Ms. J appears
with her trademark
caftan swoooosh
like she was a bat
a second ago
and has
boom
dropped out of the sky,
and I have to bite my lips,
like, really clamp down,
to keep from asking for
Jordan’s Hot Take
on what’s happening
in school today.
I don’t have to ask, though,
because her hot take
steams like dragon breath
as she says,
Who did this?
WHO?
And, whoa,
she’s WAY more mad
than I thought she’d be.
I thought she wanted to
inspire us
with the zings and burns
of her middle school words.
I thought she was secretly saying
we should all have a hot take
about all the unfair things
going on at Hart Middle.
But her dragon breath steams
as she hisses,
Well?
Who??
Everyone shouts,
Not me!
All at once.
My shout
is the loudest.
I mean,
as much as I love it
that everyone
in the whole school
is hanging on
my every word,
I’m not ready
for anyone
to know
I’m the one
who did this.
I want to protect this secret
and feed it,
keeping it strong
and healthy,
so I can hold it tight
and visit it
at night,
when everything else
is the worst.
I want to write more
and say more
and get more
shrieks and laughs
and hoots and hollers
and oooohs
and even some gasps
the next time I do it.
I want to have more days
when no one sees me
or notices me
because they’re too distracted
by the things I WANT them
to notice
and see.
I want to stretch this out,
hold it tight,
feel this power every day,
sleep soundly because of it
every night.
I want Ms. J
to calm down
and not be mad
and be excited
about all the
hot takes I have.
NO WAY I’m confessing.
NO WAY I’m giving in.
This is the best I’ve felt
in a hundred years.
(If I don’t look at Ms. J.)
I’m ten feet tall right now.
(If I don’t see the way
Ms. J’s shoulders slump
in anger
and disappointment.)
Ace walks in
ten minutes late,
sees Ms. J quivering
over us
and pauses
before saying,
Hey, you y’alls.
What’s up, Ms. J?
Ms. J holds up the paper,
shaking it at Ace.
Was this you?
And without even a pause,
Ace winks at me,
grins that 100-watt
fresh-mint grin,
and says,
Who else?
Wait.
WHAT.
IT WAS NOT!
I might have just
said that
Wait.
WHAT.
IT WAS NOT!
out loud.
omg
omg
omg
Everyone gasps.
Ms. J’s mouth
becomes a very thin,
very straight,
very mad
line.
You two.
Follow me.
NOW.
We follow her
to her office,
which is, like,
some kind of
drama portal
these days.
Ace winks at me.
Again.
And I worry
for a second
about NOT getting suspended
and instead
going to jail
for strangling Ace
with Ace’s own
wagging
blabbing
lying
tongue.
Ms. J doesn’t even sit.
I’m surprised
she doesn’t take flight,
diving at our heads,
pecking at our eyes,
while she seethes:
We’ll stay here all night.
Until one of you explains to me
WHAT is going on?
WHO thought this was a good idea?
WHY you would do this?
WELL??
I look at Ace.
Ace looks at me.
I honestly
have no idea
what to say.
Why is Ace trying to steal this from me?
Except Ace doesn’t know it was me.
Unless Ace does know it was me?
But how?
Calm down, self.
Think.
Think.
I mean, anyone
could be surprised enough
to shout WAIT WHAT IT WAS NOT!
Right?
Not just the one person
who is guilty
of doing the thing?
I cross my arms.
I narrow my eyes.
I clench my jaw.
I refuse to give up
the one thing
that’s EVER
given me control over
where the beige blob looks
and what the beige blob thinks.
I won’t let anyone take that from me.
Not Ace.
Not even Ms. J.
I’ll stay here all night.
Easy.
I’m used to never sleeping.
###
When I showed you
those old Hart Times,
it wasn’t to inspire you
to go rogue.
It was to inspire you
to pay attention.
To be creative.
To show you
how you can take any topic,
even authorized ones,
and make it yours.
But this . . .
this is super not okay.
It’s almost like I can see the thoughts
skating behind her eyes—
clouds racing across
a stormy sky,
crashing together
into one
big
storm.
You need to listen to me car
efully.
It’s as if her mouth and eyes
and cheeks and forehead
all got assigned a different emotion
at the exact same time.
She chews her lips into a pucker.
This is a punishable offense.
A suspended from school,
on your permanent record,
really, really zero-tolerance type of offense.
My mouth goes dry.
Ace’s army boots
shuffle back and forth,
back and forth.
Ms. J looks at me
for a really long time,
takes a long, deep breath,
rolls her shoulders back,
sits up straight.
You know what?
She exhales her words,
holds up a hand:
Don’t tell me anything else.
I don’t want to know.
From here on out,
I need to preserve
some amount of
plausible deniability.
Ace glances at me
as if to ask the same thing
I’m thinking:
Plausi—
whowhat?
Ms. J continues,
her voice lower than before,
her eyes flashing.
I know nothing.
Except for this:
No more
unauthorized editions
of ANYTHING.
You hear me?
We watch her nod slowly,
as if that will make us nod, too.
What else can we do?
We nod, too.
I need some time . . .
to digest what you’ve done.
Ace whispers:
Even though
you know nothing
about it?
Ms. J hisses back:
Exactly.
Now go home.
Work on your authorized articles.
We both leap up,
run out,
before she changes her mind.
Now that I know
I’m getting out of the library alive,
I can plan exactly how
I will kick Ace in the butt,
so hard and so many times,
that the Man in the Moon
is renamed
the Ace in the Moon.
When we’re far enough
from Ms. J’s office
that she can’t hear us,
probably,
Ace flips around,
facing me,
grinning bigger
and shinier
than ever.
Well??
You’re welcome.
My mouth gapes,
surprise paralyzing
my words.
You want to know a secret?
I didn’t even really know it was you.
Except that you’re funny . . .
and you’re into fashion . . .
and you hate Mr. Mann . . .
and since you and I are the only people I know
with those three awesome qualities . . .
it was an easy guess!
Ace bows,
stopping me
in my tracks.
I took the heat off of you,
blasted it on me.
Boom.
You’re not the only one
with smooth moves, huh?
Ace bows again,
slower and more dramatic.
What?
My voice is louder than I want,
so I choke back my shriek
before I squeak out,
You think those
were smooth moves
back there?
You think I wanted you
to do that
to say that
to help by taking credit
to ruin
THE ONE TIME
I had a chance
to be invisible
on my own terms,
and stick it to
all those terrible kids
and to Mr. Mann?
Ace looks as surprised
as I felt
two minutes ago.
Whoa.
Ben Y.
No.
I was just trying to—
The words are flat.
Dead in my mouth:
Ruin everything?
Ace is so surprised,
eyes wide.
No!
The opposite of that!
Ben B steps between us.
It looks like Ben Y
would like you to take
three steps back,
Ace.
Jordan and Javier
join Ben B
in the blockade
between me
and Ace.
This is really weird.
And confusing.
But fine.
Okay.
Ace’s palms are up,
in an I surrender pose,
but Ace’s mouth
is not ready
to give up.
I was trying to take one for the team!
Especially you, Ben Y.
After you saved me from the Poncho of Doom . . .
I thought—
Jordan, Ben B, Javier
have been moving forward,
slowly making sure Ace
moves closer
and closer
to the door.
Jordan’s voice is very low,
but I still hear him say:
You can’t take one for the team if you aren’t part of the team.
Ace’s mouth opens,
but Jordan’s words
have chased away
any words
Ace might have left
to say.
Jordan’s words
chase Ace away, too,
banging out the library door
with a smash
and a crash.
So you DID do it? I knew it!
It was so good and funny! Why didn’t you tell us about it?
See? T-told y-you. N-not my dr-drawings.
They all talk at once,
their questions
bombarding,
overlapping,
yapping,
and I can’t . . .
I can’t with any of it. . . .
Not right now.
I guess I can see
how Ace was trying to help,
but even so,
the bigger thing I see,
the blinking sign
in front of me,
is that Ace assumed
I needed help.
And I didn’t.
I wasn’t finished
soaking up the energy
and the power
and the . . .
satisfaction
of turning everything
and everyone
upside down.
I liked teetering on the edge
of mystery
and discovery.
I liked feeling the danger
of not knowing
what I might do next.
Ace took away
the one thing
that’s made me
really happy
in a long time,
and for what?
To save me from getting suspended?
Who cares about that?
For one bright flash of a moment,
I was in control—
I held the answers—
I was saving myself.
I was actually saving myself.
I just want to get out of here now,
away from the questions
and away from whatever it is
that Ms. J
is digesting. . . .
But where can I even go?
The library was the last safe s
pace
I had left.
BUS STOP
Hey, Ben Y! Wait up! You seem definitely sad and mad and you’re walking REALLY fast and it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it because maybe you’re riding a big wave of feelings and Mo says you don’t always have to invite other people to ride your waves with you, I just wanted to let you know—
I’M FINE!
JUST LEAVE ME ALONE.
I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.
I DON’T WANT TO HEAR YOU TALK ABOUT IT.
I JUST NEED FIVE SECONDS OF QUIET, OKAY?
DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT QUIET MEANS?
The words dive-bomb Jordan,
stopping him in his tracks,
and I really really really
didn’t mean to sound so loud
or so mad
because I’m not mad at Jordan,
I’m just thinking about
so many things,
and sometimes
Jordan is like
a jumping puppy
who barks
and barks
until you just
want to—
Ugh.
Jordan’s eyes say everything
when they dip down,
away from me,
pointed at his feet
as he speedwalks
past me
and up the bus stairs
and charges all the way
to the back
and flings himself
into the very last seat.
For the first time ever,
I sit in the front seat.
All by myself.
NOW
0BenwhY: I don’t know why I keep coming here
0BenwhY: but maybe I like to pretend
0BenwhY: or maybe I like to ask What If
0BenwhY: What if ghosts learn how to play Sandbox?
0BenwhY: I mean, we taught Ms. J how to play Sandbox, so nothing’s impossible.
0BenwhY: . . .
0BenwhY: this is when you’d say, What’s on your mind, grasshopper?
0BenwhY: and I’d say nothing
0BenwhY: and you’d say, You must keep coming here for something
0BenwhY: and I’d say fine, fine, you’re right
0BenwhY: a little while ago on the bus, I heard a woman say to another woman:
0BenwhY: *You ever think about how you’re only alive as long as someone remembers you?*