Invisible Inkling

I’d be annoyed, except Chin is fun to hang around with. Our Great Wall of China in matchsticks is nearly done, and she’s already sent away for instructions on how to do a Taj Mahal. On Theater of the Mind days, we usually play alien schoolchildren in the park across the street, and then Dad takes us for Thai food. In alien schoolchildren, which I invented, Chin is a mean teacher and I am a variety of weirdo aliens she has to teach. The aliens all have cool powers they use to make trouble for the mean teacher. Superlong tentacles shoot out of their bodies and grab the chalk out of her hands; or brain control makes her think she is shrinking to the size of an ant when really she is normal.

Today, Chin and I race to climb this really big rock at one end of the park, because that’s the best place to play alien schoolchildren. Dad heads over to chat with some other parents in the far corner where the picnic tables are.

Chin gets on the rock right away, but my backpack is really heavy, so I bend over to put it down by a tree—and a foot hits me in the backside.

It’s Gillicut.

Of course it’s Gillicut.

It’s not enough that I gave him half my lunch today; he has to come torture me in the park, too.

My dad still hasn’t come up with anything I can do to stop him. And Inkling hasn’t, either.

“Leave me alone!” I say, turning.

“Make me,” he growls.

Oh.

Um.

I have no idea how to make him.

Also, he’s not doing anything right this minute. So I can’t figure out how I’d even make him when nothing’s happening.

“You can’t just go kicking people, Bruno,” says Chin from high on the rock.

“Why not?”

“Because . . . you can’t,” she says lamely.

“But I just did. So, yeah. I can.”

“Why are you always picking on Hank?” Chin demands.

I am standing there. Like an idiot. Like a victim. Saying nothing.

“He annoys me,” says Gillicut. “Plus, he stinks at soccer. And he has sprinkies in his lunch.”

“What if he stops bringing sprinkles?” Chin asks.

Gillicut grabs the sleeves of my sweatshirt, tugs them down over my hands, and shakes them up and down, hard. “Oh, he doesn’t want to do that!” he says, jumping as he shakes me. “Don’t stop bringing sprinkies, Spanky! You wouldn’t like to see what happens when I don’t get my sprinkies!”

He releases me, laughing.

I am breathing hard.

I want to kick him.

I could kick him, from where I’m standing. He’s doubled over, laughing.

I should kick him.

I should.

Maybe then he’d leave me alone.

But—

I can’t quite make my foot kick out.

It’s like, I want to do it, but my foot is too scared.

I may not be a pacifist exactly—because I’m not sure you can call yourself a pacifist when you’ve built a Great Wall of China from matchsticks plus a set of airplane bombers from Legos—but let’s be honest: I have zero fighting skills.

“Is the Spanky Baby gonna cry now?” Gillicut asks. “Does it want its spanky mommy?”

“Why are you such a dirtbug?” I spit out.

“Oh, am I? Ask your spanky mommy why.”

“His dad is here, actually,” Chin mutters from the rock.

“Go on, Baby,” says Gillicut. “Run away like you always do and ask your spanky mommy.”

Oh, I hate him so much.

So much, so much.

“Just ’cause your mom doesn’t want you anymore doesn’t mean you get to call me a baby,” I snarl.

It’s a mean thing to say, but words are all I’ve got.

He reels back like I’ve hit him. “Don’t say that. Shut up about my mom!”

Oh no.

I’ve really done it now.

Gillicut’s mom moved out, Ms. Cherry said.

Who knew I could be so mean? And so stupid?

Gillicut’s hand balls into a fist.

I’m not sure whether to run or duck—or just stand there and take whatever he’s going to dish out.

But then, there is Dad, peeking over the big rock. “Hank! Sasha!” he says. “You guys ready for dumplings?”

I want to run and tell Dad everything that just happened.

I want to tell him and have him take my side: stride over to Gillicut and make sure that dirtbug never bothers me again. I want Dad to wrap his arms around me and tell me I’m all right and Gillicut is all wrong.

But—I’ve just said that thing. That awful, awful thing about Gillicut’s mom not wanting him.

When I think about explaining that to Dad, my face feels hot and I want to crawl under the big rock.

I can’t bear to have my father look at me with disappointment in his eyes.

I don’t ever want him to know I’ve been so mean.

Sasha jumps down from the rock and runs over to Dad. “Let’s get out of here,” she says.

Dad does a silly little dumpling dance. “Dumplings, yumplings, roly-poly dumplings! Eat you, eat you, we will eat you UP!”

Chin laughs.

Dad laughs.

Gillicut speaks under his breath. “You’re gonna pay for what you just said,” he tells me.

I know it.

I know I’m gonna pay.

Dad and Sasha are walking out of the park. I shoulder my backpack and follow them without a word.

A New Plan

We are half a block from Rice, the Thai restaurant we always go to. I am trailing behind.

Thinking about Gillicut and what he’s going to do to me next day at school.