Bobby the Brave (Sometimes) Page 3

  Without warning, something flying as fast as a missile shot out of nowhere and nearly landed on the cat. The cat let out a loud screech and ran away. Bobby looked around to see what had fallen from the sky. Could it have been a meteor?

  That’s when he saw it.

  Of course.

  A football.

  “Hey, twerps,” Annie cried from way down the street. She was on her way home from football practice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Annie! Annie! Annie!” Casey cried, running into her arms. “That bad cat was going to eat us!”

  Annie laughed and hugged Casey. “Well, you’re safe now. That cat’s not going to bother you as long as I’m around.”

  Casey hugged her sister harder and buried her face in her football jersey. “Annie, you’re our hero! Wait until Mommy and Daddy hear about this!”

  “I was going to rescue you,” Bobby told Casey.

  “I know,” she said as she gazed lovingly at her big sister. “But Annie did it first.”

  Bobby hated it when they picked teams for soccer in PE. A few kids looked excited, but even more looked distressed, just like he did.

  “Since there are twenty-eight of you, we’re going to have four teams. That’ll make the competition more interesting,” Mr. Rainerhaus announced. “Who would like to be a team captain?”

  Jillian Zarr’s and St. James’s hands shot into the air. Another girl and Jackson raised their hands too. “All right, you four. Jillian, you start.”

  Bobby could tell Holly was disappointed when Jillian Zarr didn’t pick her. He felt the same way when neither St. James nor Jackson picked him. As the group of kids who hadn’t been picked grew smaller, Bobby shifted from one foot to the other. When he heard Jackson say, “I’ll take Bobby!” his heart lifted.

  “Okay, Robert, you’re on Jackson’s team,” Mr. Rainerhaus noted.

  Bobby said good-bye to Chess and joined the kids on the other side. When the last kid was picked, he noticed that St. James and Jackson had picked all boys. Jillian Zarr and the other girl picked all girls. This happened every time.

  It was Jackson’s team against Jillian Zarr’s. This made Bobby shudder. The girls were always out to win. The boys got ahead with an early goal, but they didn’t hold the lead for long. When one of the girls yelled, “Look, there’s a dinosaur!” St. James took his eye off the ball and the girls scored a goal. Then they scored another goal when one of them shouted, “Look, there’s a dollar on the ground!”

  When the girls won, Bobby couldn’t believe how loud and obnoxious they were. Only Holly said to the boys, “Good game.” But then Holly was like that. She was the student council representative for Room 15, so it was like her job to be nice to everyone. Bobby was the alternate student council rep, so he didn’t have to be quite as nice as Holly, which was a relief because having to be nice all the time would be exhausting.

  Still, if his team had won the soccer game, Bobby knew he wouldn’t be boastful and rude, like Jillian Zarr. He’d be proud and humble, because though he wasn’t good at sports, he knew it was important to be a good sport. His dad always said that.

  “Why don’t we ever play chess for PE? It’s a sport,” Chess asked as kids flew past him. Bobby and his buddies were at the new Troy Eagle Skate Park and Rec Center. The great Troy Eagle himself had come to the grand opening, and Bobby had stood in line for two hours to get an autographed poster of the skateboarding superstar.

  “I dunno,” Bobby answered. He pulled up his kneepads, which had slipped again. Annie always made fun of him for being too skinny. “They ought to have skating in PE. It’s a sport. It’s part of the X Games. Plus everyone knows Troy Eagle is the best athlete ever.”

  Over on the far side of the park, two kids had collided and were both on the ground. Jackson was whooping it up while skating backward. “Look at my fakie!” he yelled. “Look at me!” Chess was a silent skater. He always looked like he was going in slow motion, even when he fell down, which was often. Then there was St. James, who was a daredevil with or without a skateboard. “Everyone, watch me,” he yelled seconds before a spectacular crash.

  Bobby was a good, solid skater. Not showy, but not a wimp either. He’d study the bigger kids and then start off slow, working his way up to the trick, whether it was as simple as a nosegrind or as hard as an aerial. Though he still had trouble grabbing his board while flying though the air, he was getting better.

  One of the things Bobby liked best about skating with his buddies was that no matter what happened, no matter who wiped out, no one was ever made fun of.

  Just as he nailed a 360-degree turn, he heard someone yell, “Bobby Bobby Bobby, time to go home!”

  Across the skate park, standing outside the fence under the giant Troy Eagle billboard, were Casey and Mr. Ellis-Chan. Both were waving. How long had they been there? He hoped his father had seen his 360.

  Bobby nodded to them and glided down the ramp. When he reached the bottom, he slammed the back of his board with his heel so it shot up, then grabbed it midflight and headed toward the gate.

  “Quite impressive,” Mr. Ellis-Chan said.

  Bobby grinned as his dad mussed up his hair.

  “We watched you,” Casey added. “You’re good, Bobby Bobby Bobby! You twirled in the air like a ballerina!”

  “That’s called a 360,” Bobby said. He hoped no one had heard her compare him to a ballerina. “But thanks.”

  Bobby was having a good time in fourth grade, even if sometimes he got a stomachache from the stress of PE. There were any number of ways he could embarrass himself there, like missing an easy catch during softball, or shooting an air ball in basketball, or playing football. But then, he reasoned, that always made it even nicer to come back to Mrs. Carlson’s class. She hardly ever raised her voice; plus she smelled a lot better than Mr. Rainerhaus.

  “Class,” Mrs. Carlson said. She was wearing Halloween pumpkin earrings. Recently, she had also worn a pair that looked like happy ghosts. “I want you to be silent as we walk to the auditorium. We will be rehearsing the musical on the stage today.”

  A murmur ran through the room. Up until now they had been practicing on the playground. Even though they weren’t doing the entire production of Annie, like the professionals did on Broadway, there was still much to learn. Rehearsing on the stage took everything to a whole new level.

  As the students walked down the hall in a single-file line, Bobby peered into the classrooms. When he saw Mrs. Woods, his third-grade teacher, he shuddered. One look from her could stop a herd of wild buffalo in its tracks. The second graders were doing math. It looked so easy that Bobby laughed. In the first-grade rooms the kids were making Halloween masks. Bobby couldn’t tell what the kindergartners were supposed to be doing — they were all running around the room screaming, except for a boy clutching a bowl of fake fruit and crying in a corner. Casey would be in kindergarten next year.

  Mrs. Carlson had her students sit in the audience as she stood on the stage. “We won’t be rehearsing our musical from the beginning yet. That will come later. Today we are going to focus on dancing. Please be aware that this stage is not that big. I don’t want anyone falling off and getting hurt.”

  Bobby felt someone poke him. “I’m going to fall off on purpose!” St. James promised.

  “Orphans, please,” Mrs. Carlson called out. “I need all the orphans and Miss Hannigan onstage now.”

  Swoozie raised her hand. “Am I an orphan?”

  Mrs. Carlson nodded. “Yes, Annie’s an orphan.”

  “Duh,” St. James whispered to her. “Little Orphan Annie. Orphan. Annie. Orphan. Duh.”

  Swoozie ignored him. The girls were experts at ignoring St. James.

  Bobby and St. James sat back and relaxed. Daddy Warbucks and Sandy weren’t in this scene. It looked like a lot of fun dancing on the stage, and even Jackson and Chess were laughing. Some of the girls were really good dancers, including Holly, who had studied at Mrs. Cusak’s School of Ballet
and Tap for three years. When they were little, Bobby and Holly had taken Mrs. Cusak’s Bitsy Baby Bounce-Bounce class together, and Bobby had won the Itsy-Bitsy Bouncer Award. He hoped that Holly would never ever tell anyone about this.

  Finally, it was time for Annie, Sandy, and Daddy Warbucks to practice their big number. It was exciting standing on the stage. The kids sitting in the audience looked so small. As Swoozie and St. James tried out their dance, Bobby ran around on all fours barking. It felt great making everyone laugh.

  “Sandy! Sandy, be careful not to trip Annie or Daddy Warbucks,” Mrs. Carlson cautioned him. “Daddy Warbucks, you’re looking a little stiff. Can you loosen up a bit? Annie, you’re doing a wonderful job, but make sure you don’t step on Sandy.”

  Dancing and dog romping were way more complicated than they looked, Bobby learned. Before he could try out his barking again, the rehearsal ended.

  “Tomorrow we’ll put the songs and the dances together. That’s when this will really start turning into a musical,” Mrs. Carlson said enthusiastically. “Now, here are letters to your parents. Each of you will be responsible for your own costumes. If you can’t bring one in, talk to me privately about it and I’ll make sure you get whatever you need.”

  Bobby looked at his letter. It read:

  Dear Parents,

  BOBBY has been selected to play SANDY in our class production of Annie. Please provide a DOG COSTUME for your child. We look forward to seeing you at the musical on Thursday, October 29th at 7 p.m.

  Yours truly,

  Mrs. Carlson

  On the bottom of the letter, Mrs. Carlson had added in her neat cursive, P.S. Bobby is doing an excellent job as Sandy!

  Bobby read the letter a couple of times. He was proud to have been selected to play Sandy, and was determined to be the best Sandy ever.

  “Wilbur could be Sandy,” Chess mused as they walked home after school. Wilbur was Chess’s dog and the finest canine Bobby had ever met, even if his breath smelled like sneakers and his fur was always matted in odd patches. They stopped at the ice-cream truck. Chess bought a strawberry Popsicle and Bobby dug around his pockets for quarters to buy his usual AstroPop. “Sandy’s a mutt and Wilbur’s a mutt,” Chess continued as he unwrapped his Popsicle.

  Bobby nodded. That was true. He hoped Chess wouldn’t mention this to Mrs. Carlson or else he might be replaced. However, he thought it would be totally cool to have a real dog onstage.

  “Hey, Chess,” Bobby said, “can I come over and watch Wilbur? You know, to see how he walks and runs. It’s research.”

  “Sure,” said Chess. “But don’t touch Wilbur. Remember what happened last time.”

  How could Bobby forget? He had given Wilbur a huge hug and that triggered a particularly bad asthma attack. Still, he loved dogs, so it had been worth it.

  Bobby knew that famous actors always researched their roles. His sister Annie had told him that when Mike Marvel played the rugged surfer spy in the movie Missiles Over Maui, he had eaten nothing but coconuts for a month to prepare for the role.

  Dog biscuits didn’t taste any worse than his dad’s homemade cookies. Bobby knew this for a fact. Maybe he’d eat dog biscuits the week before the show, or at least the night of it.

  Bobby perched on the front porch and watched Chess and Wilbur run around. One of Wilbur’s legs was shorter than the others. Bobby wondered if all of Sandy’s legs were the same length, and how he’d find out something like that. He wanted to get the part exactly right. To make sure he wouldn’t forget anything, Bobby drew pictures on the back of his math work-sheet. Pictures of Wilbur running. Wilbur standing. Wilbur sitting. Wilbur happy. Wilbur sad.

  Wilbur drooled a lot, so Bobby tried drooling like the dog, but quickly ran out of spit. Later, he decided it was best not to drool onstage because someone might slip, and Mrs. Carlson had specifically said that she didn’t want anyone falling off the stage.

  When it was time to go home, Bobby held off the urge to hug Wilbur. “Thanks for everything,” he told the mutt. Then, in Sandy speak, Bobby added, “Arf, arf … aaaaarf!!!”

  “ARF!!!” Wilbur answered.

  Bobby lay upside down on the couch and watched Princess Becky’s Planet with Casey. Da-Da-Doo, the pint-sized dragon, was delivering a letter to the Terrible Teeny Tiny Trolls. That’s when Bobby suddenly remembered his letter about the Sandy costume. When he emptied his backpack, there was a trio of craggy rocks, part of his lunch from last week, and a bunch of crumpled papers. He found the letter and held it out to his dad.

  Mr. Ellis-Chan stopped dusting and sat down to read. “It looks like we’re supposed to supply your costume for the class musical.”

  “I’m the dog, Sandy,” Bobby said proudly. To show what a great Sandy he was going to be, he began to bark and romp around the room on all fours. Casey joined him.

  “Really? Sandy the dog? I didn’t know that,” his dad replied, even though Bobby had told him this before. “Well, I’ll get started on your dog costume right away. I’ve always wanted to try my hand at sewing!”

  Bobby froze midbark. “Dad, can’t we just buy a costume?”

  “Why bother to buy one?” Mr. Ellis-Chan said. He flexed his massive biceps, which, Bobby knew, helped his father think. “We have Grammy’s old sewing machine in the attic. Bobby, I am going to make you the best darn dog costume in the world!”

  Casey wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t know Daddy could sew,” she said as Mr. Ellis-Chan ran upstairs.

  Bobby picked up Mrs. Carlson’s letter off the floor. “I’m not so sure he can,” he said solemnly.

  After a dinner of Mr. Ellis-Chan’s tuna casserole soup, Mrs. Ellis-Chan took the family to Burger Barn for a snack. Then they headed to Sew What, the fabric store.

  Bobby had never been to a fabric store before. There were aisles dedicated to all sorts of yarn: thick, thin, fluffy, and fuzzy. Spools of thread in every color imaginable, even cerulean, took up an entire wall. And the knitting needles looked like the kinds of weapons that Mike Marvel, the action hero, might use when fighting off surfer spies.

  As Bobby explored the store, he wished he had his skateboard. It would have been so cool to skate through Sew What, making sharp cuts around the end displays and running his hand over the rows and rows of colorful material.

  “Can we go now?” Annie moaned. “I don’t even know why I’m here!”

  “How about this?” his mother said, pulling out a nice yellowish cotton fabric.

  “I think Sandy is more sandy colored,” Bobby noted. He was staring at some black material with glow-in-the-dark planets on it. It seemed like that would be good for something. Maybe he could talk his mother into using it for new curtains in the living room.

  “What about this?” Casey said, tugging on a bolt of fabric. It was pink and purple with hearts on it.

  “Can we go now?” Annie said louder, this time with an exaggerated yawn.

  Bobby wondered if all teenagers were like Annie, or if her moodiness was unique. He had asked her about it once, but after she screamed, “I AM NOT MOODY!” he thought it best not to bring it up anymore.

  “Well, Bobby, what do you think of Casey’s fabric selection?” his mother asked, smiling.

  He smiled back, then said to Casey, “That’s nice, but not quite right for a dog costume.”

  “Can we go now?” Annie asked. “When can we go? Hello? Is anyone listening to me?”

  “Annie, I told you, we’ll leave once Bobby finds what he’s looking for,” Mrs. Ellis-Chan said patiently.

  “Hurry up, slowpoke,” Annie hissed to her brother.

  Suddenly, a voice boomed, “I FOUND IT!” At first Bobby thought the store’s loudspeaker was on, then he recognized his father’s voice. “Bobby, get over to the Halloween create-a-costume aisle.”

  Bobby rushed over to aisle number thirteen. His father was beaming and soon Bobby was too. Mr. Ellis-Chan held a bolt of fabric over his head as if he were lifting weights. It was exactly what Bobby was looking
for. The fabric looked like real fur. It was light brown, and fuzzy, and perfect!

  As soon as they got home, Mr. Ellis-Chan set up the sewing machine in the guest room where Grammy and Gramps stayed when they visited.

  “Wow, it’s pretty,” Casey said as she ran her hands over it.

  “Be careful,” Mrs. Ellis-Chan warned. “The needle is sharp.”

  “I know!” Casey said, nodding. “Snow White pricked her finger on a sewing machine and fell into a deep sleep until the Frog Prince saved her by giving her shoes that fit.”

  “Casey, it was Sleeping Beauty, and she pricked her finger on a spinning wheel,” Bobby informed her. They had studied fairy tales in the second grade.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Casey said. “But I like my story better. Daddy,” she asked, “how does the sewing machine work?”

  Mr. Ellis-Chan shrugged. “I’m not sure. But how hard can it be?”

  Luckily for Bobby, he didn’t have PE every day. It was Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, leaving him Tuesday and Thursday, plus the weekend, to recover. Mr. Rainerhaus was a very stern teacher. Each class started with fifty jumping jacks and a brisk run around the playground with him yelling, “Faster! Go faster!”

  Bobby didn’t like it when people yelled at him. Some kids didn’t let it bother them when they were yelled at, like St. James. St. James got yelled at all the time. But when someone yelled at Bobby, even if it was a despicable person like Jillian Zarr, it made him feel bad for a long time.

  “Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty!”

  Mr. Rainerhaus blew his whistle. Everyone stopped, except for Jackson. Jackson was weird and loved jumping jacks as much as Bobby loved skateboarding. If there was a world record for jumping jacks, Jackson could probably break it. Bobby wondered if one day he’d ever break any records, like Troy Eagle. Troy held the world-record ollie — fifty-two inches in the air. That was taller than Bobby.