Egghead Read online

  EGGHEAD

  A N O V E L

  CAROLINE PIGNAT

  For Tony.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks so much to:

  Peter Carver, my editor, for your expertise, guidance, and wonderful humor.

  Marie Campbell, my agent. Thanks for your support and direction.

  Authors Karleen Bradford and Rachna Gilmore. Thank you both for your inspiration and generous mentorship. I am so grateful for your instruction, encouragement, and advice.

  Experts in the field: Barbara Coloroso, author of The Bully, the Bullied and the Bystander; Angela LorussoStewart, Coordinator of the Bully Prevention Program and Sandra LeBlanc, Facilitator and Counsellor for the Confident Children's Program, both under the auspices of the Ottawa Community Resource Center; and Paramedic Kelly Edwards, for sharing your research and experience. You have all helped ensure that this novel rings true.

  My crit girls Heather Burke, Christine Ferris, Sharon Rudnitski, and Elizabeth Tevlin for your insightful feedback. Donna, Lisa, and Karin for always being just an email away and to my "fans" in the hood. You've all been wonderful. I couldn't have asked for better travelling buddies along this writing journey.

  A heartfelt thanks:

  To my parents, Alan and Peggy Cranny, for teaching me to dream;

  To my kids, Liam and Marion, for reminding me to play;

  Especially to my husband, Tony. You have helped make so many of my dreams come true. Thanks for everything. I couldn't have done it without you.

  Go to the ant, consider its ways, and be wise.

  —King Solomon

  William James Reid

  The First Day

  Scurrying on the cold gym floor,

  it stops,

  antennae waving.

  It will die in here.

  One

  cannot survive

  alone.

  It seeks its colony;

  a place filled with others

  just like it,

  a place

  where it belongs.

  In quiet corners

  it searches

  for a scent

  that isn't there.

  Katie

  The gym was packed that first day of grade nine. Among the crowd, I recognized our classmates from St. Anne's. Some looked different, others were trying to. As though new pants or a new hairstyle might help us believe we belonged here. But then I saw someone who was the same as ever.

  Will.

  "What's he doing?" Jenna asked, watching him creep along on his elbows and knees, nose to the floor and butt up in the air.

  I shrugged. "Leave it to Will to find the one bug in a room of a hundred people." Not surprising, though. Will would choose bugs over people any day.

  "For someone so smart, he sure acts stupid," Jenna said.

  I couldn't argue with her, really. Will always did weird things like shoving raisins up his nose just to see how many would fit, or catching lice so he could "study their gestation." Last winter he even tested the lick-the-metalfence theory. I still remember the tiny tongue-skin flag waving from the chain link. But that was just Will. We'd just shake our heads and get on with it. Like Granny always says, everyone's "different in one way or another." She was right too. After all, Jenna had allergies, Erin saw a social worker, Paulo's sister ran away from home ... and my Dad had cancer.

  Last year Mr. Donlan, our grade eight teacher, asked Jenna and me to be Will's partners at the science fair. We ended up doing ants. Actually, it was kind of neat. Our ant farm won first place. That's how I learned that even strange creatures I never knew anything about were pretty interesting after all.

  Strange creatures, like ants and Will.

  I watched him shuffle along on his knees and elbows, following whatever bug had found its way onto the gym floor. Jenna shook her head. "Sheesh! No wonder he doesn't have any friends."

  "He's got us." I said.

  "Whatever." She rolled her eyes and tugged my arm. "C'mon, let's go see if we're in the same homeroom."

  Maybe it was because he was so weird. Or maybe no one really cared. But Will usually kept to himself. He liked being ignored, like a bug on a wall. Sure, some kids liked to catch bugs and pull their legs off one by one just for fun. But luckily for Will, none of us were like that.

  Not yet.

  "Martina!" A shout echoed around the gym. The short guy beside me cringed as the crowd parted like the Red Sea for three guys. The entire gym went silent.

  "M-my name's M-M-Martin, Shane," the short guy said, clutching his schoolbag.

  "Oh, excu-u-u-use me." Shane got right up in Martin's face. "Still a total loser, eh, Ma-ma-ma-martina? Some things never change."

  "Same dork, different day," the tallest of the three echoed.

  "Hey." Shane grabbed the leather schoolbag hanging on a long strap across Martin's chest. "Nice purse, Martina. You don't mind if I do a little back-to-school shopping, do ya?" Shane pulled the strap until it tightened across Martin's chest.

  From the look of Shane, back-to-school shopping was not his thing. His ratty jeans and dingy T-shirt looked like they'd been worn all summer. Even his sneakers had holes.

  Martin shook his head, standing as far away as the strap would allow, his eyes full of tears. Shane rummaged in the bag, pocketing whatever he wanted. "So," he sniffed the brown paper bag. "What's for lunch today, Martina?"

  "T-t-tuna."

  "T-t-tuna?! You know I hate t-t-tuna!" Shane dumped the lunch on the floor and watched the apple roll to a stop by Will, still hunched in the corner.

  Shane's eyes lit up at the sight of Will. "What do we got here?" He nodded for his buddies to follow.

  My stomach sank.

  Devan

  Shane's hilarious. I swear to God.

  Like this one time, me and him were out sitting on the curb by the 7-11 with our Slurpies when some wicked huge fat kid pulls up on his bike. The guy's totally dripping sweat. He's huffing and puffing as he waddles by. And Shane goes, "Hey Dev, do you smell bacon?"

  Holy crap. I laughed so hard Slurpie came out my nose. Talk about brain freeze. Then Shane followed the guy around the store, snorting and grunting like a pig. Man, I nearly wet my pants laughing. But that's Shane for you. He cracks everyone up.

  Well, maybe not the fat kid.

  So it's the first day of school, right? I go in the gym and everyone's checking everyone out. Geek. Freak. Jock. Flirt. Nerd. The guy ahead of me is wearing new jeans and white sneakers. Loser. Probably still got the tags sewn in the back. I got my mom to wash mine the week before. No way I want to look like a total tool.

  The place was packed with new kids & even I felt kind of nervous, but then I see Shane.

  "Hey;' he says. "Nice lid:' I pat down my hair, mad that I let Mom talk me into that haircut. "Is that gel? It is, isn't it? Hey, Brad, check out Spike here."

  "Shut up." I shove him into the crowd. Good old Shane. Grade nine just wouldn't be the same without him.

  Then Shane starts goofing with Martin. Martin's getting all mad, like it's our fault he carries a fag bag. Shane always said the guy was queer. You'd never see a girl near him. Not that we had girlfriends. But we could if we wanted.

  Shane elbows me and nods at some guy in the corner. A real winner. The weirdo is kneeling on all fours looking at a bug or something. I couldn't tell really, not before Shane's sneaker squashes it flat.

  The guy looks up, mouth hanging open. He's in total shock. I can't see Shane smiling, but I know he is.

  "Do you have any idea what you have done?" the guy yells, jumping to his feet. He sounds like my whiny kid sister and his face is getting red.

  "Yeah," Shane goes, "I do."

  "That was a mature female, full of eggs." The guy's voice is getting louder and hi
gher with every word. "You just wiped out a ... a ... a whole generation!"

  "Geez," Shane finally says to me over his shoulder. "You'd think I squashed his mother." Shane swipes his foot along the floor leaving a black smear. The guy starts shaking like he's going to explode or something.

  "You got something to say, Egghead?" Shane asks.

  "Yeah, Egghead, you wanta say something?" Brad echoes.

  And just when it's about to get interesting, this girl comes out of nowhere and yells, "I do!"

  Katie

  Next thing I knew, there I was, right between Shane and Will. They both looked at me like I was the one acting crazy.

  "Umm, I ... uh ..." I racked my brain for something, anything, to say. "That's bad luck, squashing a bug like that." Lame, I know, but what do you expect? I was under a lot of pressure.

  "I thought," one of Shane's friends said, looking more confused than before, "it means your mother's gonna hurt her back."

  The taller one shoved him. "That's step on a crack, Brad, ya loser!"

  "Oh"

  "Killing a bug means it's gonna rain."

  Shane spun around. "Would you two shut up?" He turned back to me, even more furious. This diversion was not part of his plan, if you could call "find a dweeb—kick his butt" a plan. His dark eyes burned in their sockets. His fists clenched.

  My heart pounded in my throat. I took a step back. Just a little one. Hardly noticeable to anyone else. But somehow, that couple of inches told Shane all he needed to know. His mouth slithered into a cold smile. The bell rang. But I knew it wasn't over.

  In fact, it was just beginning.

  William James Reid

  The Rope

  The other boys

  make it look so easy.

  Hand over hand over hand

  to the top.

  Physics, really, I tell myself.

  But I am stuck on the knot.

  The rope

  burns

  my palms.

  Tears

  burn

  my eyes,

  as heckles echo

  in the gym

  and in my head.

  Loser. Idiot. Spaz.

  Slowly, but surely,

  I slip

  and dangle

  at the

  end

  of

  my

  rope.

  I will never understand

  why we climb the rope.

  What does it teach us, really,

  except what we don't want to know

  Devan

  Turns out William Reid is in our gym class. Which is great. Not that we want him on our team or nothing, but he'll be a fun opponent.

  Gym is my favorite subject, but I admit I'm not too crazy about stripping down with thirty guys. It's just weird. My family's pretty private. Even Shane, who shares a room with his two younger brothers, tried to get out of changing. He told Panetta that there was no law saying he had to wear those purple shorts and gym shirt. In fact, he even said there should be a law against it.

  He did eventually change into his gym stuff. But, typical Shane, he did it on his terms, coming out of the change room ten minutes late. Me and Brad had already climbed the rope three times each by then. It would have been more if we weren't waiting for Egghead. What a spaz. I don't think he even got off the knot.

  After booting it round the gym on that last lap, Shane is the first one in the change room after class. Man, he can run. By the time the rest of us start changing, he's already half dressed, reaching for his shirt.

  But not before I see the bruise.

  It spreads in a dark purple stripe across his back. Whatever hit him, hit him hard. The yellowed mark below it tells me it hit him often, too. My stomach sinks. Man, that's gotta hurt. I feel bad for him ...

  Shane catches me staring. "What the hell are you looking at?" He glares at me, daring me to answer him as he yanks his shirt on, then looks behind, making sure nobody else saw. But they didn't. They were too busy laughing at Egghead's underpants.

  Egghead is standing there completely naked, except for his black socks and pink underpants. Yeah, I said pink. Can you believe it? It was guy's underwear all right, only I'd never seen ones that color before. The only thing pinker is his face. He's scrambling, trying to get dressed. But it's too late. All he manages to put on is his undershirt —only it isn't an undershirt really, just the neck part of his turtleneck or something. What a freak.

  Egghead starts backing away from everyone. I dunno where he's going. He probably doesn't either, since now all his stuff is still on the other side of the room. Me and Brad step up behind Shane and Egghead's eyes go all huge. He's shaking, all twitchy and terrified like my sister's bunny, Lulu. It bit me the last time I tried to hold it. Stupid rabbit. Just 'cause I could wring its neck doesn't mean I would.

  Anyways, I don't know what Egghead's problem is. We aren't even touching him.

  "What's with the pink underwear?" Brad asks.

  Egghead crosses his hands in front of his crotch, and mumbles something about the wash.

  "Sounds to me like your mom needs a lesson in laundry," I say.

  "Yeah," goes Brad. "Is she dumb or something?"

  Well, that's it. Egghead cracks. He just starts screaming and freaking out.

  But Shane's ready. "Open the door!"

  Martin pulls it open, probably glad it wasn't him for a change. Egghead's so into his fit, he doesn't even notice Shane shove him into the hall. We close the door and lean our shoulders on it, holding it shut.

  Egghead screams full throttle for a few more seconds. Then a girl yells.

  "Oh man, the girls are coming out," someone beside me whispers.

  Katie

  I could not believe Will. Streaking! What was he thinking? Thank God I was the only one out of the girls' change room.

  There he was, out in the hall in his underwear. His underwear! Well, his socks and his turtleneck dickie, too—as if those covered anything. I'd always thought wearing a dickie was a strange fashion choice, even for Will. He usually wore it tucked under his sweater collar to make it look like he wore a turtleneck. Odd, I know. But now, flapping around his bare collarbones as he jumped and yelled, the thing looked completely ridiculous.

  "Will!" I shouted. But he didn't hear me. He was so into his fit, he didn't even know where he was. Or what he wasn't wearing. Will hadn't had a tantrum like this in a long time. He was always an emotional guy. Usually, if he was freaking out we'd just ignore him or leave him for a while. I thought about letting him be as I watched him whine, mutter, and hit himself in the head.

  No. The girls would be coming out any minute. I couldn't leave him. Not like that.

  "William, stop!" I snapped. "Stop it right now!"

  He slowly opened his eyes, looking like he'd just woken up from a bad dream. Only it wasn't a dream. He was standing at school in his underwear. His mouth dropped as reality hit, then he screamed and ran for the boys' change room door, slamming into it with a thud. The door wouldn't budge.

  Great, just great, I thought. He kept pushing against the door, his socks slipping on the marble floor. "It's locked!" I finally yelled.

  He looked at me in total panic, then took off running down the hall. Clutching my gym uniform, I ran after him, hoping, praying that I'd find him before everyone else did. The bell would be ringing any minute.

  He stood at his locker in his black socks, white turtleneck dickie, and pink underwear, fumbling with the lock and muttering the combination like a mantra. "Fourteen–forty-five–twenty-two–fourteen–forty-five–twenty-two ... "

  I shoved my gym stuff at him. "Here, put this on! Hurry! The bell is—"

  RRRIIINNG!

  The doors swung opened and crowds spilled into the hall. Laughter rushed at us like a tidal wave. Clutching my gym clothes, Will hid behind me, exposing both of us.

  "That's enough now, that's enough. Don't you people have somewhere to be?" Mr. Spence pushed his way through the crowd. For a
principal, he was pretty short, smaller than most of the students. I'd have mistaken him for one if it weren't for his bald head and mustache. He waded through the crowd, stopping in surprise when he saw Will. "What ... what's going on here?"

  Will stood knock-kneed and red faced, desperately trying to cover his crotch with my gym shirt. It didn't work. He opened his mouth to answer Mr. Spence, but nothing came out.

  Mr. Spence looked at me. I had no idea what to say. He sighed. "Put on your shorts and, both of you, follow me to the office. The rest of you, get to class."

  Will trembled, stepping one leg and then the other into the shorts. I looked away, trying to give him his privacy, but the lingering crowd wasn't helping any. They giggled and laughed, heckled and joked. Shane came around the corner and joined in. He elbowed his buddy. The two of them were killing themselves laughing.

  Eager to get out of the hall, I started to follow Mr. Spence, but Will didn't move. His hips looked shrink-wrapped in my tiny shorts as he stood against the lockers, hands still crossed in front of him. A dark stain spread across the shorts and I noticed the puddle of yellow on the marble floor by his locker.

  "Come on, Will." I said, pulling his arm until he staggered forward.

  "Mop to aisle two … mop to aisle two!" Shane called from the crowd and they all laughed.

  William James Reid

  One Red Sock

  White underwear

  turns pink

  when washed with

  one red sock.

  Change rooms have no stalls,

  to hide the underwear

  turned pink from

  one red sock.

  People stop,

  stare,

  and laugh

  at the sight

  of underwear washed with

  one red sock.

  Something

  lets

  go

  and

  runs

  down

  my leg

  into

  a puddle of hot embarrassment.

  All because of

  one red sock.