Chapter Three: The Day I Swallowed Sparky
If you could see me right at this very moment in time, you would see me kicking the beans out of the most ornery boy in the fifth grade, James Sullivan. I am simply unbeatable when it comes to handball. I have trampled everyone in grades one, two, three, and four, and just as soon as I beat James, I will have trampled everyone in the fifth grade too.
“Come on Josephine Hazel Cornelia Krauter-Tart! You can beat him!” Eliza shouts at me from the sidelines.
“I’m working on it Elizabeth Mariana Vallejo-Cortez!” I say smacking the big red ball hard against the wall. I haven’t even worked up a sweat yet and James is running all over the court. He dives to make his shot but misses and lands chest-down on the blacktop.
“That was a crotch-ball! That was a crotch-ball!” James’ voice sounds squeaky protesting the game point.
“The rules say you have to call it before you ball it, James!” Eliza says, flipping through her notebook importantly.
“It doesn’t count! It was a crotch-ball!” James says protesting and kicking at a rock on the court. Two of his friends mumble in support.
“It’s in the handbook! Here, look for yourself” Eliza tries to show him, but James is already walking off, shaking his head. “You’re out! Fair is fair!” Eliza calls after him and then turns and looks at me. “We have a champion boys and girls! Joey takes down the fifth grade!” A group of kids who were watching the match starts to cheer.
“Okay, okay, enough of that . . . I don’t want to embarrass James,” I say taking Eliza by the hand and pulling her away from the crowd towards a picnic table. “Let’s eat; I’m starving! All that winning made me work up an appetite.”
We sit down and dump the contents of our lunch boxes on the table. It seems Eliza’s father has packed her the usual fare: peanutbutter and jelly sandwich on Wonder Bread, baby carrot sticks with ranch dressing, pretzels, three chocolate chip cookies, and an apple juice box. I, on the other hand, have a liver and onion sandwich on sprouted wheat bread (Do you know how much iron is in liver?), jicama (It’s a tuber veggie!) with hummus (From chickpeas, tater-tot!), a carob-date bar (Carob tastes just like chocolate!), and a thermos of warm water (It aids in digestion!) My papa has a real sense of humor in the kitchen and it makes it hard to trade for anything good at recess.
Just as I am about to take a bite out of my sandwich, wouldn’t you know it, up walks Teddy Fong to our table. “Joey, you have Pol Pot and you know I want him. I think I’ve got something you might be interested in. I’ll give you Genghis Khan and Nero for him.”
“No way Teddy. Not without Stalin,” I say.
“I don’t have Stalin. I already told you that. He’s a limited edition card and I can’t get my hands on him. There’s just no way.” Teddy pulls a stack of cards out of his backpack and starts rifling through them. “I know, how about Ivan the Terrible?”
“No can do Teddy.”
“Mao Zedong?”
“Nope”
“How about Khan, Nero, Ivan, Mao, and Castro?”
“Now you’re talking. It’s a deal—”
“Yes! Thanks Joey,” says Teddy thrusting a fistful of cards towards me.
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“What!? A deal is a deal.”
I look at Eliza and grin. “There’s one condition: you have to give me George W. Bush when they release him in 2008.”
“Um . . . ” He thinks about it for a second and then nods. “Okay. Sounds fair.”
I reach in my back pocket and pull out my Pol Pot card and look him over one last time. “Nice knowing ya, Pot-Belly,” I say placing him face-down in Teddy’s outreached hand. “It was a pleasure doing business with you once again Teddy.”
Teddy Fong is the only other kid at Daves Avenue Elementary School who shares my interest in collecting “Fascist Rulers of the World Collectible Trading Cards.” I have been waiting to get my hands on Nero for a long time now and Eliza knows it. As soon as Teddy has skipped off she turns to me and says, “Joey, that wasn’t exactly fair. He offered you what you wanted right away! Why didn’t you just trade him in the first place?”
“Don’t you point that carrot at me Eliza. Do you see what I got?” I fan my cards out to show her. “I would have traded, but he was so kind to just keep offerin’ ‘em up! How could I turn him down? Hey, would a sip of my warm water make you feel better?”
Eliza laughs. “No thanks. But it was so kind of you to offer.”
***
Math comes right after lunch and I’ll have you know, I don’t fancy math all that much. I am doing my best to stare a hole right through Mrs. Duff’s bee-hind so that her guts will fall out plop-dab on the floor and we can be excused for the day when, who would have guessed it, a knock comes on our classroom door. It’s the school nurse, Miss Pauline Cook, and she walks up to Mrs. Duff, who is standing at the board, and whispers something into her ear.
“Elizabeth Cortez, you are to go with the nurse to her office. Right away, please,” Mrs. Duff says looking in my direction, as if she doesn’t know darn well that Eliza sits about as far away from me as possible. Eliza looks at me and grins, then gets up and shuffles over to the nurse, who takes her by the shoulder and leads her out of the room.
I mutter under my breath, “So unfair . . . ” but Mrs. Duff scolds me with a fish-eye and I pipe down.
“Attention back here at the board boys and girls. Let’s get back to where we were, shall we?”
I opt to stare a hole through the back of Mrs. Duff’s head thinking it might wind up being a little faster in the long run. Well, just as I can see smoke coming out of her bun from all the progress I’ve made, wouldn’t you know it, there is another knock on our classroom door. This time it is the snarky office TA, Sara Weiner. She comes in and there are more whispers before Mrs. Duff points her long finger at me and then Sara and says, “Josephine Tart, go with Sara to the nurse’s office.”
I try to drag my feet and waste a little extra time, but the walk to the office goes too darn fast and before I know it, I am being led into the nurse’s office. Wouldn’t you know it, not only is Eliza there sitting with her papa, my own papa is there too. Just as I am about to thank my papa for getting me outta math, I notice that Eliza’s eyes are just about swollen shut and she is sniffling somethin’ fierce. Before I can ask her what the sam-heck is the matter my papa reaches out for my hand and looks me square in the eye.
“Tater-tot, I have something very important I need to tell you, okay?”
I nod and look back and forth between my papa and Eliza.
“Look at me Josephine.”
I know he must be serious because my papa never calls me by my actual name.
“Josephine, Mr. Cortez is very very sick and seeing how there is no Mrs. Cortez, Eliza is going to come and stay with us for a while.”
I look at Eliza, who is now crying like she means it, and I immediately feel like I have swallowed Sparky, my Peruvian long-haired guinea pig and he is stuck somewhere between my throat and my heart.
For once in my dag-gum life I don’t have a darn thing to say.
If you could see me right at this very moment in time, you would see me kicking the beans out of the most ornery boy in the fifth grade, James Sullivan. I am simply unbeatable when it comes to handball. I have trampled everyone in grades one, two, three, and four, and just as soon as I beat James, I will have trampled everyone in the fifth grade too.
“Come on Josephine Hazel Cornelia Krauter-Tart! You can beat him!” Eliza shouts at me from the sidelines.
“I’m working on it Elizabeth Mariana Vallejo-Cortez!” I say smacking the big red ball hard against the wall. I haven’t even worked up a sweat yet and James is running all over the court. He dives to make his shot but misses and lands chest-down on the blacktop.
“That was a crotch-ball! That was a crotch-ball!” James’ voice sounds squeaky protesting the game point.
“The rules say you have to call it before you ball it, James!” Eliza says, flipping through her notebook importantly.
“It doesn’t count! It was a crotch-ball!” James says protesting and kicking at a rock on the court. Two of his friends mumble in support.
“It’s in the handbook! Here, look for yourself” Eliza tries to show him, but James is already walking off, shaking his head. “You’re out! Fair is fair!” Eliza calls after him and then turns and looks at me. “We have a champion boys and girls! Joey takes down the fifth grade!” A group of kids who were watching the match starts to cheer.
“Okay, okay, enough of that . . . I don’t want to embarrass James,” I say taking Eliza by the hand and pulling her away from the crowd towards a picnic table. “Let’s eat; I’m starving! All that winning made me work up an appetite.”
We sit down and dump the contents of our lunch boxes on the table. It seems Eliza’s father has packed her the usual fare: peanutbutter and jelly sandwich on Wonder Bread, baby carrot sticks with ranch dressing, pretzels, three chocolate chip cookies, and an apple juice box. I, on the other hand, have a liver and onion sandwich on sprouted wheat bread (Do you know how much iron is in liver?), jicama (It’s a tuber veggie!) with hummus (From chickpeas, tater-tot!), a carob-date bar (Carob tastes just like chocolate!), and a thermos of warm water (It aids in digestion!) My papa has a real sense of humor in the kitchen and it makes it hard to trade for anything good at recess.
Just as I am about to take a bite out of my sandwich, wouldn’t you know it, up walks Teddy Fong to our table. “Joey, you have Pol Pot and you know I want him. I think I’ve got something you might be interested in. I’ll give you Genghis Khan and Nero for him.”
“No way Teddy. Not without Stalin,” I say.
“I don’t have Stalin. I already told you that. He’s a limited edition card and I can’t get my hands on him. There’s just no way.” Teddy pulls a stack of cards out of his backpack and starts rifling through them. “I know, how about Ivan the Terrible?”
“No can do Teddy.”
“Mao Zedong?”
“Nope”
“How about Khan, Nero, Ivan, Mao, and Castro?”
“Now you’re talking. It’s a deal—”
“Yes! Thanks Joey,” says Teddy thrusting a fistful of cards towards me.
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“What!? A deal is a deal.”
I look at Eliza and grin. “There’s one condition: you have to give me George W. Bush when they release him in 2008.”
“Um . . . ” He thinks about it for a second and then nods. “Okay. Sounds fair.”
I reach in my back pocket and pull out my Pol Pot card and look him over one last time. “Nice knowing ya, Pot-Belly,” I say placing him face-down in Teddy’s outreached hand. “It was a pleasure doing business with you once again Teddy.”
Teddy Fong is the only other kid at Daves Avenue Elementary School who shares my interest in collecting “Fascist Rulers of the World Collectible Trading Cards.” I have been waiting to get my hands on Nero for a long time now and Eliza knows it. As soon as Teddy has skipped off she turns to me and says, “Joey, that wasn’t exactly fair. He offered you what you wanted right away! Why didn’t you just trade him in the first place?”
“Don’t you point that carrot at me Eliza. Do you see what I got?” I fan my cards out to show her. “I would have traded, but he was so kind to just keep offerin’ ‘em up! How could I turn him down? Hey, would a sip of my warm water make you feel better?”
Eliza laughs. “No thanks. But it was so kind of you to offer.”
***
Math comes right after lunch and I’ll have you know, I don’t fancy math all that much. I am doing my best to stare a hole right through Mrs. Duff’s bee-hind so that her guts will fall out plop-dab on the floor and we can be excused for the day when, who would have guessed it, a knock comes on our classroom door. It’s the school nurse, Miss Pauline Cook, and she walks up to Mrs. Duff, who is standing at the board, and whispers something into her ear.
“Elizabeth Cortez, you are to go with the nurse to her office. Right away, please,” Mrs. Duff says looking in my direction, as if she doesn’t know darn well that Eliza sits about as far away from me as possible. Eliza looks at me and grins, then gets up and shuffles over to the nurse, who takes her by the shoulder and leads her out of the room.
I mutter under my breath, “So unfair . . . ” but Mrs. Duff scolds me with a fish-eye and I pipe down.
“Attention back here at the board boys and girls. Let’s get back to where we were, shall we?”
I opt to stare a hole through the back of Mrs. Duff’s head thinking it might wind up being a little faster in the long run. Well, just as I can see smoke coming out of her bun from all the progress I’ve made, wouldn’t you know it, there is another knock on our classroom door. This time it is the snarky office TA, Sara Weiner. She comes in and there are more whispers before Mrs. Duff points her long finger at me and then Sara and says, “Josephine Tart, go with Sara to the nurse’s office.”
I try to drag my feet and waste a little extra time, but the walk to the office goes too darn fast and before I know it, I am being led into the nurse’s office. Wouldn’t you know it, not only is Eliza there sitting with her papa, my own papa is there too. Just as I am about to thank my papa for getting me outta math, I notice that Eliza’s eyes are just about swollen shut and she is sniffling somethin’ fierce. Before I can ask her what the sam-heck is the matter my papa reaches out for my hand and looks me square in the eye.
“Tater-tot, I have something very important I need to tell you, okay?”
I nod and look back and forth between my papa and Eliza.
“Look at me Josephine.”
I know he must be serious because my papa never calls me by my actual name.
“Josephine, Mr. Cortez is very very sick and seeing how there is no Mrs. Cortez, Eliza is going to come and stay with us for a while.”
I look at Eliza, who is now crying like she means it, and I immediately feel like I have swallowed Sparky, my Peruvian long-haired guinea pig and he is stuck somewhere between my throat and my heart.
For once in my dag-gum life I don’t have a darn thing to say.