فصل 17

CHAPTER 17

Misfit Lunch

I watch Albert sit at his desk and stare at the pages of a book. I know he’s not reading. His eyes don’t move at all. I see he has a new bruise on his jaw and decide I’ll go over and talk to him.

Hey, I say.

He looks up.

Then something comes out of my mouth that I don’t expect. Do you want to sit with Keisha and me at lunch?

Why?

Well, you sit alone and we sit alone—but together, too—so I thought that we could all sit alone together.

That isn’t a logical conclusion. Clearly, if we are all together—

Yeah, I interrupt. I know. It was a joke. So, you want to?

Well . . . I suppose so. I guess I’ve got to eat somewhere, he says.

• • •

Albert leans his chair back as he shakes his empty carton of chocolate milk to let the drops fall on his tongue. I wonder who decided that a half pint of milk was enough.

Why don’t you just buy two?

He puts his chair down and stares.

Can’t you just ask your mom for extra money in the morning? I say, readjusting my fake sling. This thing is a pain.

I don’t have to ask for money. It’s kind of prepaid.

And then I realize all at once. Of course. How stupid can I possibly be? Albert doesn’t have many clothes and he gets a ticket from Mr. Daniels every morning. I guess I never thought about it before. He must get one of the free lunches. I hope I didn’t upset him, so I say, I’m sorry.

About what?

Well, about . . . well, you know. That you get the free lunch.

He shrugs. There are worse things. Than a free lunch, I mean.

Yeah, I guess.

It disturbs my mom, but my dad says he wants to leave his mark on mankind with one of his inventions, and she says he should get a real job. They fight about it a lot, actually.

I’m really surprised he told me that and I decide to never tell another soul about it.

Hey, says Keisha, sitting down.

Hey, I say, and Albert nods.

So, Albert, Keisha says. I watched Star Trek because you are always spouting off about it. The special effects are not that special. Kind of pathetic, actually. Like a first-grade puppet show.

Albert looks horrified.

Keisha laughs as she unwraps her sandwich. Yeah, I knew that would getcha.

Shay’s voice arrives before she does. Look, Jessica, she says as they walk by. It’s the Island of Misfit Toys.

Yeah, Jessica says. It’s like a six-legged freak.

Shay laughs and Jessica looks proud of herself.

Uh, those girls are like walking pricker bushes, Keisha says, taking a bite of her sandwich. Don’t let them bother you.

They don’t bother me, Albert says.

It doesn’t bother you at all that she called us misfit toys? I ask.

It doesn’t bother me, Keisha says. That girl can flap her gums about me until the sun rises and sets again. I really don’t care.

I wish I didn’t care. And I wish I wasn’t jealous of Shay and all that she has.

Albert is wide-eyed. But why are the toys all misfits? Square wheels on a train can be fixed easily enough. Albert has his most serious voice turned up to high. And what’s wrong with the doll, anyway? Why is it a misfit? It seems to adhere to the standards of a typical doll.

Wow. He is in full professor mode.

The Charlie-in-the-box, he continues, is just like a Jack-in-the-box in every way but his name. Something is not a misfit simply because it has a different name.

That isn’t true, I blurt out.

He looks shocked. I suppose he isn’t used to being corrected.

He holds up his milk carton. Suppose I say this is orange juice. Doesn’t change what it is inside.

That’s different, I say, thinking that the milk will feel like it’s orange juice if it’s told that enough.

It is the same principle.

I think of words like dumb and baby and think how wrong Albert really is.

What about the cowboy? Keisha asks. He rides an ostrich instead of a horse. That has got to make him a misfit.

It is illogical to say he is a misfit just because he chooses to ride a different animal, provided he can carry out his cowboy duties.

Albert! Keisha says. How can you possibly say ‘cowboy duties’ with a straight face?

I don’t understand, he says.

Keisha’s forehead touches the table, and he continues, Especially when you consider that ostriches run faster than horses, require less water to drink, and can use their legs and feet as weapons. They are fierce kickers with sharp claws. I, for one, would trade a horse for that. That’s just logical.

And then I think that if someone hung a sign on me that said anything, having that sign there wouldn’t make it so. But people have been calling me slow forever. Right in front of me as if I’m too dumb to know what they’re talking about.

People act like the words slow reader tell them everything that’s inside. Like I’m a can of soup and they can just read the list of ingredients and know everything about me. There’s lots of stuff about the soup inside that they can’t put on the label, like how it smells and tastes and makes you feel warm when you eat it. There’s got to be more to me than just a kid who can’t read well.