Grounded For Good

Happy last day! I give a huge, fake smile and overzealous wave to the bus driver as I get on the bus after a painfully boring last day of middle school.

She ignores me. That’s not new, but I would think that this day would make her a little happier than usual. So, I try again.

"Happy last day putting up with me," I sing.

She tries to hide it, but I see a smirk forming in the corners of her mouth. Success.

Hurry up, loser. My friend Sean gives me a push from behind as he reaches the top step. Let’s get going so we can be done with this place. I’m sure the bus driver wants to get home, too.

She grunts in agreement as we head toward the back of the bus to get a seat.

Since when are you in such a rush to leave school, Mr. Science Olympiad? I have to tease him about his moment on stage at the middle school award ceremony that we had to sit through today. You and your team looked so proud with those shiny, silver medals around your necks.

Shut up, loser. You totally could have been on our team if you got your grades up. We probably would have gotten the gold with your brains and quick thinking. Sean crosses his arms and looks at me with disappointment. He doesn’t care about my grades. He is just super-competitive. Actually, that’s an understatement. It still burns him up that his team got second in the state tournament this spring.

Gotten the gold for what? Our friend Frank takes the seat next to us. As usual, he’s a few steps behind.

Sean was just lamenting once again about the team that held him back from the glory of the gold.

Frank shakes his head. Are you kidding me? I mean, I know you’re not because Sean is always a sore loser. Imagine if I brought home a medal of any color.

Oh Frank, you should have seen your mom and dad just beaming with pride when you were called up for the Perfect Attendance Award. It was a such beautiful thing. I wipe fake tears from my eyes and add a few sniffles for comic effect.

Hey don’t knock it. Were your parents even there? Frank asks with his usual look of slight confusion.

Nope. They knew I wasn’t going to be getting any awards.

Oh come on, Derek. Sean starts clapping his hands and talking in a high pitched voice doing an amazing imitation of my mom. You know your mom was thrilled when you got into that fancy, highly competitive camp for the summer. You know, after she stopped accusing you of paying someone to do the application for you.

Frank’s still laughing at Sean-as-my-mom, but tries to speak. What—what was—what was that word?

Oh yeah, what was that ridiculous word that you used in the application that your mom just couldn’t believe you came up with on your own. Sean helps Frank finish his question.

Gregarious.

Frank nods. Yeah, yeah, that one. What does that mean anyway?

Fond of the company of others. Sociable.

Dude, you really need to spend less time playing word games on your computer and more time being gre-gar-i-ous. I’m impressed that Frank got the whole word out. Your brains are being wasted, man.

He’s right, but my room is my only sanctuary in the whole house. But this summer will be different.

That’s why I’m going to camp. And yes, my mom is happy about it. Don’t let her fool you, though. It’s not pride. She just realized that I will be out of her hair for two whole weeks this summer.

Frank finally stops laughing. I just don’t get why you would rather have your parents think you cheated on something than let them in on the fact that you’re actually an awesome writer.

Time to change this subject. Speaking of parents, why are we on this bus and not riding home in one of your cars? It’s summertime, man. We should be outside. I open the bus window and take a deep breath of the warm, sunny New England air.

My mom had to go back to work, Frank answers.

Mine had errands to run. She takes forever to shop. Sean rolls his eyes and adds, Trust me, the bus is definitely quicker.

As we settle in for the rest of the ride, I see them both reach into their bags for their hand-held games. I look around the bus and see other kids excitedly talking about the summer fun they have planned.

I look back at Sean and Frank engrossed in their games already and can’t help but think, these are my partners in crime? The last day of middle school and they can’t tear their eyes away from the world of flying fruit and mad birds. Sure, I play video games too, but we can do better than this. It’s summer. Two months of sleeping late, bike riding, and swimming. Two months of freedom from teachers, homework, and books.

Determined to shake things up, I look around the bus trying to figure out what will bring Frank and Sean back to this world. Our bus route lacks any girls cute enough to lure their eyes from the screen. What they need is a real-world challenge that they just can’t pass up. But I have nothing, so I just stare out at the cars on the street.

I have mixed feelings about today. I’m happy to not have to go back to middle school, but leery of high school, which is the world of Mill Valley Patriots football. I am so not ready for that world. Just the thought of it makes me squirm in my seat. As I hear the jingle of money in my pocket, inspiration strikes. Time to put the results of my locker clean-out to good use.

Hey guys, I just became aware of a mission that needs your immediate attention. I have to be creative in order to get their eyes away from the screens so I start to weave my tale. The challenge I present to you is critical to the survival of this bus load of people. I have in my pocket little balls of kryptonite that are going to drag the bus into a vortex of death and destruction. We must unload them, but to be safely disposed of they must hit a vehicle of doom on the street below.

I really just wanted to see if we could hit the cars passing by with the pennies in my pocket, but Frank eats this stuff up. And quite frankly this was way more fun for me than just staring out the window. Now to hook Sean. You will each get three and the first person to safely unload all three will be named Supreme Leader.

Sean looks up. I’ve got his attention.

Does it matter which vehicle of doom we hit? Sean always needs to play by the rules. Not the rules of the real world, but the rules of the game.

First, the vehicle has to be in motion. I add a degree of difficulty to this game so they won’t get bored too quickly. Second, for safety of all women and children, the driver has to be male. And last, we each must aim for a different color to best protect the bus. Red for Frank, blue for Sean, I pause here for dramatic effect. And I must aim for silver, the most dangerous of them all.

I don’t know, Frank speaks. He’s usually the hesitant one in our schemes. What happens if I miss the car? Or break a window?

Sean nods his head, agreeing with Frank. I pull out my last weapon to push them into action. I didn’t want it to come to this, but the safety of you and your fellow travelers are in real danger. I now D3 you.

The three of us have been friends since a Mommy-and-Me outing to the neighborhood park when we were four. I don’t remember it, but as the story goes, we joined forces to overtake the park bully that was a few years older than us. Even in those days, it wasn’t our size or strength that made us victorious. It was our scheming and smarts.

Over the years, we have loved to challenge each other. I like to think we are pushing each other to achieve new heights, but teachers and parents don’t always agree. When one of us is hesitant or a little scared, we use that infamous tool of peer pressure—the double-dog dare. We don’t back down from a double-dog dare. We hold this challenge in high regard, but we realized sometime around the beginning of middle school that our classmates no longer respected it. In fact, we got made fun of a few times when other people overheard us.

We adapted. We didn’t let the cool kids take our fun away. We just started to be a little more discreet. Now when we are in public with the chance of being overheard, we issue a D3. I don’t think anyone really cares to figure out what this means because we have already been dubbed dorks. I think a few people assume that I, Derek Dawson, have a middle name that starts with D. Or that we have owned up to our dorkiness and have named our little group the Three Dorkiteers. Yes, I actually overheard someone call us that once.

Sean and Frank put down their games as soon as they hear D3. They look out the window and start looking for the possible vehicles of doom. I open my hand of pennies and they each take three. Ready to get a head start on his way to victory, Sean identifies his first target while we are stopped at a light.

I wait until he’s about to release and then yell, Wait! The car has to be in motion. I scared the heck out of him, which just added to the suspense of the moment. When the light turns green and traffic starts to move, he tosses the penny. He misses by a mile. Sean isn’t an athletic kid, but I would have thought he would have done better at estimating the distance based on the varying speeds of the bus and car.

Derek, you go next. Frank looks nervous and probably doesn’t want to suffer the same embarrassment.

Okay. Clearly, I care more about my fellow classmates and their safety than you do. I give him a little ribbing about being a scaredy-cat.

I aim for the trunk of the car next to the one Sean tried to hit. A penny wouldn’t do much damage, but I figure we don’t need to chance hitting a window. I throw and nail it.

Yee ha! Sean belts out at first, but changes his tone to save face since he missed. Beginner’s luck. Can you do it again?

Before I have a chance to line up another silver target, Sean tries again and hits one. Frank tries and misses. The excitement is building as we take turns trying to get three hits.

I realize now that other kids on the bus are watching. I never like to disappoint an audience. While stopped at another light, I start to do a play-by-play about the danger that threatens the bus and how our team of experts will protect everyone. Totally dorky, but my dramatic storytelling captivates even the cool kids on the bus.

I wait until we are in motion again before I toss another penny. It lands in almost the same spot on the trunk of my target.

You are Coach Dawson’s kid after all, some kid yells out and the bus laughs along with him.

I’m already pumped up by hitting my targets and having an audience, but the mention of my dad pushes me over the edge. I grab the handful of pennies I have left in my pocket.

Yeah, well watch this. And I chuck them all. I don’t really expect to have much success, but sure enough all but about two hit the trunk of the silver car. The kids on the bus cheer, which I have to admit, feels pretty good. They don’t usually support my escapades because they know I will most likely end up in the principal’s office where I tend to spend a bunch of time. They must feel a little more daring today because it’s the last day of school.

The driver of our target turns his head toward the bus and starts waving his finger at me. The applause and cheering abruptly stops. It is at that moment that I realize the vehicle of doom that I have been using for target practice is a shiny, new Audi. Oops. I guess I should have been aiming at a more run-down target. I decide to play it smart and sink down in my seat a little to blend in with the rest of the bus. But really, what’s this guy going to do—call the school to complain?The bus driver didn’t see me, the principal will have no idea which bus it was, and he won’t really care because it’s the last day of school.

The other kids have gone back to ignoring us as they chat amongst themselves. I’m feeling a little better until Frank says, Uh, Derek…I think you’re busted. That car is trying to pull the bus over. I think he is coming for you.

Sure enough, the Audi pulls in front of the bus and stops so that the bus driver can’t continue. He gets out of his car and approaches the bus. The bus driver has no idea what’s going on, but luckily can’t allow a stranger onto our bus. After calling in the incident, she goes down the bus steps to meet the guy at the door. We can’t hear exactly what he’s saying, but the guy is mad. He’s yelling something about damages and someone paying and calling the police.

The bus driver asks if he can describe the guilty party. I realize now that I’m in trouble. Everyone else wears Mill Valley school colors on the last day of school and the bus is a sea of maroon and gray. But not really one for showing school spirit, I chose a bright orange shirt today. Way to camouflage.

I play it cool and try to calm Frank down. What’s this Too-scarian going to do? Come on, you know he’s got to be from there. Who in Mill Valley, Massachusetts drives an Audi? I get a little chuckle from the kids sitting around me. We always make fun of the rich, artsy people in Tuscany which is the next town over from us.

I joke around to cover up the fact that I am a little worried. I’ve been in trouble before so I don’t typically get nervous about getting called to the principal’s office. But this time I’m a little more concerned about what will go down.

Derek! The bus driver calls me to the front of the bus. She is able to match his description to me without missing a beat.

Is this the child you saw throw the object? She asks the driver. The one in the orange shirt?

Yes. Come with me young man. The man’s tone is stern, but what he doesn’t realize is that I have the toughest football coach in the state for a dad. I’m not impressed by his act.

Wait, wait, the bus driver holds out her arm to stop me from getting off the bus. Not that I was going closer to this man willingly. This will be handled by the school, not you, sir. I will call this in to the principal and let him handle it.

I want this child’s name, his parents’ names, and their telephone number. I want him to pay. This confirms that he is not from Mill Valley. Nobody in our town drives an Audi and everyone knows I’m Coach Dawson’s disappointment.

You will have to call the school and talk with the principal, sir. I cannot give you that information. I appreciate your concern, but I have a job to do. Now please, step away from the bus and return to your vehicle so I can get these children home safely. The bus driver speaks politely, but she is a fierce woman. The Audi driver picks up on it, and eventually backs down. Before I can feel any relief, the bus driver turns on me.

Now, you will sit in the first seat. You will be silent. And you will not cause me any more grief. Do you understand me? If my dad is ever looking for an assistant coach that can shoot daggers of death with one look, this woman would do just fine.

Yes, ma’am, I respond and take my seat. I glance back to Frank and Sean and give them a thumbs-up. I’m sure they are worried that they will be implicated, but they should know by now that I won’t bring them down with me. Why should more people suffer?

The bus driver calls in my crime and I hear Principal Johnson’s voice tell her to bring me back to school. Uh oh. The rest of the ride seems to take forever. As everyone bounces off the bus with the last day