How to Be Cool in the Third Grade Page 2

  He got back to the empty seat that Doug had saved for him and sank down into it.

  “Man, what did you do that for?” Doug asked. “Don’t you know who that is?”

  Robbie nodded. “I didn’t mean to,” he said. “It just kind of happened.”

  “Don’t let that kind of thing happen again,” said Doug. “It could be dangerous. Real dangerous.”

  “I know,” said Robbie.

  For a long time Robbie stared at the back of Bo’s head. The fun was gone from the day. The new year was already tarnished.

  If only he had said something cool to Bo. Something that would be funny and make the kids laugh, but not at Robbie.

  He sighed. It was too late.

  He closed his eyes and imagined what the morning would have been like if he had been cool. He saw himself in jeans walking confidently up the steps of the bus, no cameras clicking or lips smacking, the other kids calling, “Hey, Rob!” Everything would have been perfect.

  He thought of his list. There seemed to be a big difference now between writing something down and actually doing it.

  He slumped lower in his seat.

  It might not be a great year after all.

  ONE BAD APPLE

  “Wait!” Robbie held up his hand to hold Doug back. They watched from the back window of the bus until Bo went inside the school building.

  “Okay,” said Robbie. “Coast clear.”

  Robbie and Doug hurried down the steps of the bus and into the building.

  “Don’t get Bo mad at you again,” said Doug. “Whatever you do, stay away from him.”

  “I will,” said Robbie, “believe me, I will.”

  Robbie looked both ways down the hall. No sign of Bo. Maybe it would be easy to avoid him.

  “Come on,” he said to Doug. They hurried to the third grade rooms. They would look at the names beside the doors to see which teacher they got this year.

  Robbie hoped that he would get Ms. Williams. She was the nicest teacher in the third grade. She had a popcorn party in her room every Friday and she never gave homework.

  They stopped in front of Ms. Williams’s door first and looked at the names printed onto apples taped to the bulletin board beside the door. Doug began to call out the names of the kids who would be in Ms. Williams’s class.

  “Sue Adams.”

  “LaTisha Baker.”

  “Doug Daniels! I got her!” said Doug, pointing to his name on an apple. “I got her!”

  Robbie crossed his fingers for luck and looked at the rest of the apples.

  Please let me get Ms. Williams, he prayed silently as he scanned the apples. “Please let me get Ms. Williams.”

  “Here’s Matt Jones,” said Doug, reading off the names. “And Pat Gatrell and Bo Haney.”

  BO HANEY!

  Doug and Robbie exchanged looks. Uh-oh!

  Bo had gotten Ms. Williams. Now Robbie DIDN’T want to get Ms. Williams. He didn’t want to be anywhere near Bo Haney this year.

  His prayer changed. Now he didn’t want to see his name on an apple.

  Please DON’T let me get Ms. Williams. Please DON’T let me get Ms. Williams. Please ...

  “Justin Lewis.”

  “Scott Nelson.”

  “Robbie York!” Doug yelled. “Right here!” He pointed to an apple in the corner of the bulletin board.

  “You got her, too!” said Doug. “Come on! Let’s get seats together.”

  “Bo’s in there,” said Robbie. “I don’t want to go in.”

  “Aw,” said Doug. “He’s already forgotten about the bus. He won’t even remember you.”

  Robbie swallowed.

  “I hope you’re right,” he said. Slowly he followed Doug through the door of the classroom.

  “Hey, it’s Wobbie!” shouted a familiar voice as Robbie made his way back to an empty seat. Bo had not forgotten.

  “Yoo-hoo, Wobbie!”

  Robbie opened his backpack and took out his school supplies. When he came to his notebook he opened it and peeked at his list.

  “Psst! Hey, Wobbie.” He heard Bo call him but he didn’t look up. Each time Bo called him Wobbie, Robbie felt a little smaller.

  But what could he do about it?

  Last year when Mary Jacobs said the Pledge of Allegiance during assembly her voice had been high and squeaky. Bo had called her Squeaky for the rest of the year. The worst part was that soon all the other kids called her Squeaky, too. Now she might just as well change her name to Squeaky because that’s what everyone called her.

  It happened to Al-Burp MacGreagor. He used to be Albert MacGreagor. And Katie Bernard. Now she was Katie Barnyard.

  Last year the names had seemed funny to Robbie. Now that he was about to become Wobbie for the rest of his life it did not seem funny at all. When Bo changed your name it stayed changed.

  He took out his pencil and marked through number one on his list.

  1. GET RID OF THE NAME ROBBIE.

  Beside it he wrote:

  1. GET RID OF THE NAME WOBBIE.

  It was going to be harder to be cool in the third grade than he had thought.

  THE UNDERWEAR PROBLEM

  In Ms. Williams’s class there were only twenty minutes between lunchtime and break-time. It was during that twenty-minute period that Bo Haney managed to notify the entire third grade class that Robbie York wore Super Heroes underwear.

  Twenty minutes can be a wonderfully short period of time.

  It is exactly the length of time it takes:—to ride the Total Panic Roller Coaster at Wonder World (eighteen minutes to wait in line, two minutes to ride)

  —to eat a vanilla-strawberry swirl frozen yogurt with crushed Butterfingers on top (Robbie’s favorite)

  —to have a fire drill

  Twenty minutes can also be a terribly long period of time. It is exactly the length of time it takes:—to get a cavity filled at the dentist

  —to take a pop quiz in spelling

  —to eat a large helping of his mother’s broccoli casserole

  The twenty minutes that it took Bo to notify the class that Robbie wore Super Heroes underwear was the longest twenty minutes in Robbie’s life.

  Bo had noticed Robbie’s Super Heroes underwear in the boys’ bathroom just after lunch.

  “Hey, Wobbie,” he had called to Robbie, “what’s that on your underwear?”

  Robbie was tucking in his shirt. He looked down at his underwear with a puzzled look. He hadn’t spilled anything at lunch. What could Bo be talking about?

  “Nothing,” he answered.

  “Yes, there i-i-is!” said Bo.

  Robbie didn’t like the sound of Bo’s voice. It had a teasing kind of sound to it.

  Bo had managed to get the attention of all the other boys in the bathroom. They all stopped washing their hands and looked over at Robbie and Bo.

  “Does Baby Wobbie have widdle Super Heroes on his undies?” Bo asked in a baby voice.

  Two boys at the sink snickered.

  Up until that afternoon, Robbie had no idea that there was anything wrong at all with Super Heroes underwear. All his underwear had pictures on it: Super Heroes, G.I. Joe, even Cartoon Pals.

  His face turned red. He was suddenly glad he hadn’t worn Cartoon Pals.

  Robbie hurried out of the boys’ bathroom, looking down at the floor. He didn’t look up until he sat down in his seat in Ms. Williams’s classroom. It was then that the longest twenty minutes of Robbie’s life began.

  Psstt!

  He looked across the classroom. He could see Bo working on something at his desk.

  It was quiet reading time. Bo should not have been working on anything. Robbie couldn’t concentrate on his reading. He couldn’t think of anything but what was on the paper that Bo was working on.

  Bo began folding the sheet of paper. He folded it once, twice, three times, then dropped it over his shoulder onto Tom Ballan’s desk.

  Somehow Robbie knew that the note was about him. Tom unfolded the paper, then
looked over at Robbie. He poked Bo in the back and laughed quietly.

  Tom folded the note and passed it back over his shoulder to Sue. She passed it to Pat.

  On and on the note went.

  When the note was being passed down the row of desks beside Robbie he peeked over and caught a glimpse of the note.

  It was even worse than he expected.

  In the middle of the page Bo had drawn a picture of a boy in a cape flying through the air like one of the Super Heroes. Under the picture Bo had written, Baby Wobbie wears Super Heroes underwear. He had drawn an arrow from the words to the boy.

  Robbie stretched his neck even farther to read the words at the bottom of the page:

  IT’S A BIRD. IT’S A PLANE. IT’S SUPER WOBBIE!

  Robbie slumped down lower into his seat. He wished a black hole would open up in the floor and swallow him. He had started the day with such high hopes. Now everything seemed hopeless.

  He slipped his notebook out of his desk and turned to his list. He crossed out 2. GET JEANS. Beside it he wrote GET NEW UNDERWEAR.

  Jeans seemed like the least important thing in the world. Now he would settle for a pair of new underwear.

  The terrible year just got worse.

  BOOK BUDDIES

  The fun had gone out of the first day of school. Robbie couldn’t remember ever feeling this low. It was almost time to ride home on the bus. School-bus rides were no longer something to look forward to, they were something to dread.

  He sat at his desk wondering how to get out of the bus ride home. Another trip with Bo would be the worst thing that he could imagine.

  He looked over at Bo. Bo was carving his name into his desk with a Boy Scout knife. Robbie had the feeling that Bo had never been a Boy Scout.

  Just then, like the answer to a prayer, he heard the most wonderful words of the day:

  “Bo Haney! You will remain after school for detention hall!”

  Ms. Williams had found the knife.

  SAVED! For now.

  It would be safe to ride the bus home today. Then he heard the second most wonderful words of the day. “It’s time to announce our Book Buddies for the year.”

  Book Buddies! Robbie had always wanted to be a Book Buddy. Book Buddies got to help other kids with their reading. It was not easy to be chosen. You had to have all A’s from the year before. You had to have all S’s in behavior.

  Robbie hoped his name would be called. He had all A’s and all S’s. He could imagine himself carrying the red notebooks. Sitting out in the hall at the two desks. Holding up the flash cards. It would be ... well ... cool.

  He would be a great Book Buddy! If only she would choose him.

  “Luke Hansen,” Ms. Williams read from a piece of paper.

  Robbie crossed his fingers. She could pick me, Robbie thought. I always get A’s.

  “Marchelle Johnson.”

  Robbie thought back over all of his report cards. He had never received anything but an S in behavior. He never misbehaved. It could be me, he thought.

  “Millie Bonaphel.”

  Please!

  “Robbie York.”

  ROBBIE YORK!

  He had been chosen. He would be a Book Buddy this year! Robbie grinned at Ms. Williams .

  “Awwww!” The other kids sighed out their disappointment at not being chosen. The bell rang and the children hurried out the door to get to their buses.

  “Book Buddies!” called Ms. Williams. “Please stay for just a moment and get your assignments.” Robbie hurried up to the front of the room with Luke, Marchelle, and Millie. Now he would find out who his buddy was. The person that he would be working with this year.

  The four children clustered around the desk. “Luke, you will have Brian Hicks.” Luke nodded and headed out to the bus.

  “Marchelle, you will have Katie Robertson.” Marchelle nodded and left, too.

  “Millie, you will have Barb Green.” She nodded and left.

  “And Robbie, you will have Clyde Elmer Haney.” Robbie did not nod. Who was Clyde Elmer Haney? They didn’t have anyone in their class named Clyde Elmer. Did they?

  “Now, hurry,” said Ms. Williams. “You don’t want to miss the bus.”

  Robbie headed for the door. From the back of the room a voice called, “ ‘Bye, Wobbie.”

  Bo! Bo Haney!

  Could it be true? Could Clyde Elmer Haney be Bo Haney? It must be true.

  He was Book Buddies with Bo!

  SMACK!

  Robbie ran out to the bus and climbed up the stairs. He sat down beside Doug and slung his backpack down.

  “Who’s your Book Buddy?” said Doug.

  Robbie didn’t answer. He rested his head back and closed his eyes.

  “You okay?”

  He shook his head no.

  “Who’d you get?” said Doug. “You didn’t get a girl, did you?”

  Robbie shook his head.

  “Whew! You look so bad I thought maybe you got a girl.”

  “I got Bo.”

  “What?”

  “Bo,” he said again.

  “Man!” said Doug. He covered his forehead with his hand. “This is not good.”

  They rode in silence.

  The bus stopped at Doug’s stop.

  “Don’t worry,” Doug said as he walked toward the front of the bus. “We’ll think of something.”

  Robbie didn’t smile. “We have to,” he said, “or I’m dead tomorrow.”

  Robbie’s stop came next. He could see his mother as they pulled up to the stop. She was waiting at the bus stop to walk him home. As they pulled closer he could see that she was wearing her brightest, reddest lipstick.

  His first two steps to being cool had changed. Now his third step seemed impossible, too. With a sigh he pulled out his notebook and changed his third step to being cool:

  3. PUT UP WITH KISSES AT THE BUS STOP.

  Smack!

  She got him again.

  The doors of the bus slammed shut with a bang like the end of his hopes for a great year. His mother did not seem to notice.

  “How was your day?” she asked in a cheerful voice.

  “Fine.” It was no use worrying her.

  “How do you like your class?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Do you know anyone in your new classroom?”

  Robbie thought of Bo. “Yes,” he said without enthusiasm.

  “Good,” she said. She seemed satisfied with that. “Oh, Robbie, there’s a sale at Harkin’s. I thought I’d run over there this afternoon. Mrs. Hines will watch you while I’m gone. It will only be for about an hour. I need to get you a few more things for school.”

  Robbie’s heart sank. What would she get him this time? Pretty Pony underwear?

  He wanted to say the words, “Would you mind picking up a pair of jeans for me?”

  Or, “Hey, while you’re there would you see if they have any white underwear on sale?”

  He sighed. No matter how many ways he thought of to say the words, they wouldn’t come out of his mouth.

  As his mother hurried inside to get her purse, Robbie sank down onto the front steps.

  Maybe Baby Wobbie was the right name for him after all. He had made up his list with such high hopes, but he hadn’t done a single thing on his list. There was a big difference between making a plan and doing the plan.

  He had to stop Bo. But how?

  He couldn’t tell his mother. He could just see what she’d do. She would get all upset, call Mr. Hardeman, call Bo’s parents, call the PTA, call the police ... It would only make things worse.

  If only he could become cool before tomorrow, before he had to be Book Buddies with Bo, everything would be okay.

  Coolness was like armor, protection from harm and teasing. Coolness was the key to happiness in the third grade. Coolness was the key to survival in the third grade.

  Time was running out and he needed to know the answer fast. How to be cool in the third grade? It seemed impossib
le.

  WAAA!

  He walked slowly toward Mrs. Hines’s house. She came out the front door pushing Tobey in his stroller. His white pacifier was stuck tightly in his mouth. Robbie could see it move in and out as the baby sucked hard on it.

  “Robbie,” she called to him. “Come and take a walk with us.”

  Robbie walked across the yard and looked down at Tobey. He wanted to push the stroller. But Mrs. Hines probably would say no. Why bother to ask? She probably thought he was a baby, too.

  “How was school?”

  Before he could answer, she continued. “I remember how much I used to like the first day of school . . .”

  Robbie walked along in silence listening to Mrs. Hines talk. It seemed so effortless. Streams of words seemed to pour right out of her mouth with no effort at all.

  “Waaaaaaa!”

  Robbie’s thoughts were interrupted.

  “Waaaaa!” Tobey wailed again.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Robbie looked down with concern. “Is he hurt?” He had never heard such a scream.

  Mrs. Hines laughed, “Oh, no! He does that about a hundred times a day. That’s just a baby’s way of telling you he needs something. Oh, look.” She bent down beside the stroller. “He lost his pacifier again. I spend more time putting that pacifier back into his mouth than I do anything else these days.”

  She picked up the pacifier. It was attached to a long ribbon. The end of the ribbon was pinned to the front of Tobey’s shirt. She put the pacifier back into Tobey’s mouth. The crying stopped.

  “Babies can’t talk like you and me,” she continued. “They can’t say ‘I’m hungry,’ or ‘I’m wet,’ or ‘I’m tired.’ But they sure can let you know when they want something.”

  How simple it seemed, Robbie thought, looking down at Tobey:

  Waaa! and you got whatever you wanted. He wished it was that simple when you grew up.

  Waaa! New jeans would appear.

  Waaa! People would stop calling you names.

  Waaa! Your mother would stop kissing you at the bus stop.

  They started walking again. Mrs. Hines continued talking but Robbie was not listening. He was thinking about something else.