shrugged and took a few steps back.
“Anyway,” Butkus said. “Be in my office after school and we will continue this discussion.”
“But I have to be in Bartholomew’s classroom right after school,” I blurted out.
He stopped and thought for a minute. At least I think he was thinking.
“I’ve been thinking,” Butkus said
“That’s very dangerous,” Mr. Durkin said quickly.
Butkus stared Durkin into silence. “Be in my office before the start of last period, Mr. Murphy. Then you can still meet Mr. Bartholomew after school as you had originally planned.”
“Originally planned” Durkin piped up from the back of the gym.
I thought that was really fair. “That sounds—”
“Keep running!” Butkus shouted.
The class began to run in whichever way they were facing as they were listening to Butkus yell at me. “In a line! Together!”
Finally, we all moved as one and circled the gym with Butkus standing in the middle of the court, one foot propped up on a wrestling mat like it was some kind of trophy animal he had just shot.
The faster I ran, the more I realized there was something weird about Butkus, Bartholomew, and this entire day.
And it was getting weirder.
Chapter Eight
As the second to last bell rang, I ran back to the gym to find out my punishment for being late. I knew he was going to make an example of me; I was just hoping it wouldn’t be something too terrible or even worse, too embarrassing.
The only advantage I had was that Butt-Kiss was a meathead and easily confused. I need a distraction , I thought. If I could get him focused away from me and onto something that made him even angrier, then I might be able to get out of there without any problems.
Bursting through the doors and into the gym, I saw Butt-Kiss in the weight room working out. Jerkin was standing right by his side, counting reps, and praying he didn’t make a mistake.
“I’m here, Mr. Butkus,” I called, stepping into the room and waiting for him to finish.
“It’s a good thing you’re here on time,” Butt-Kiss said.
“A good thing,” Jerkin repeated.
“I ran all the way here,” I said.
“You should have done some of that running earlier this morning,” Butt-Kiss said. “By the time we’re done, you’re going to say I wish I wasn’t here .”
“I wish I wasn’t here,” Jerkin agreed.
This was it, I thought. My distraction.
“Why not?” I said.
“Why … not … what?” Jerkin asked.
“You just said, ‘I wish I wasn’t here’ and I was just wondering why you’d say that?”
“I did not …” Jerkin protested.
“Don’t you like Mr. Butkus?” I asked. “Didn’t he get you your job?”
“He … he did … and I’m grateful,” Jerkin stuttered.
“You don’t like me?” Butt-Kiss questioned him.
“Of course, I do,” Jerkin said. “I didn’t say …”
“You did,” Butt-Kiss said, turning his attention to Jerkin. “I heard you.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jerkin apologized. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Do you always say things you don’t mean?” I asked.
“I never say things I don’t mean,” Jerkin said.
“Then you did mean that you wish you weren’t here,” Butt-Kiss barked.
“Wait.” Jerkin grabbed his head like he was having a massive headache. “What?”
Butt-Kiss was furious … and I was on the right track.
“Why do you have to be at Mr. Bartholomew’s classroom after school?” Butt-Kiss asked.
“For extra credit,” I said. “There are a few reading assignments …”
“It’s not right for kids to read.” Butt-Kiss twisted his face like he’d bitten into something terrible. “Soon they start getting ideas and even thinking .”
“Thinking.” Jerkin sneered. “Who needs kids thinking?”
“I only have a few minutes before my next class,” I said. “What’s my punishment?”
Butt-Kiss paced up and down the court. His chest puffed out, and his chin raised like his entire body was filled with hot air.
“Your
Translated by George Fyler Townsend