Invisible Inkling

“May I sit here?” Ms. Cherry stands over us, holding a tray of pizza, cranberry juice, and fruit salad.

I breathe out.

If a teacher is going to sit with us, I should be safe. What can Gillicut do with Ms. Cherry sitting across from him?

“Sure,” I answer. Chin scoots over to make room.

“I’ve decided I should eat with my students on pizza day,” says Ms. Cherry, setting her food down and touching her complicated hair. She eases herself onto the bench. “I never get a chance to just chat with you guys!” She reaches over and pats my hand. “I love to connect with kids outside of the classroom.”

“Hello, Ms. Cherry,” says Gillicut, chewing my bunnies.

“Bruno, did Hank give you his ice-cream-shop sprinkles today?” she says, noticing the container.

I’m about to say “No!” when Gillicut kicks me under the table. “Thank you so much for the sprinkies, Hank!” He smiles. “Ms. Cherry, would you like some? They’re rainbow.”

“Hank!” Ms. Cherry pats my hand again. “Did you decide to be an ambassador of goodwill? Because I think you did!”

“Not really,” I say. “I—”

“I love sprinkles,” says Ms. Cherry, picking up the Tupperware and peeking in. “My favorite ice-cream combo is peppermint with chocolate. Oh, and whipped cream. What about you, Sasha?”

But before Chin can answer, Ms. Cherry drops the container and screams.

All Tomato Sauce and Anger

Ms. Cherry bends over, yelling. She clutches her hair, which is rapidly unwinding, as if by magic. Her lunch tray skids across the table, spraying cranberry juice everywhere. She falls to the floor, yowling and thrashing as if some invisible—

Oh.

It’s Inkling.

He is here, after all!

Despite what I did to him, he didn’t leave me to face Gillicut alone.

Only: He has dropped on the wrong person. He dropped on Ms. Cherry!

The items on the tabletop skid to the ground as Inkling launches himself at Gillicut’s pizza. He must grab the crust in his mouth because the slice lifts into the air, waving violently so that the triangle part

flaps.

Whomp! It hits Gillicut hard across the face, smearing him with cheese and pepperoni.

And whomp! Back the other way with the crust side.

Gillicut is all over tomato sauce and anger. He tackles me and rolls me on the floor. I can see Ms. Cherry flailing, trying to pull herself to standing, high heels slipping on a puddle of cranberry juice. Gillicut and I land several feet from her, rolling onto the plastic carton of blueberry yogurt from my lunch. I can feel it burst under my head. Gillicut’s hot face is right in mine. He’s crushing me, and I can barely breathe. The yogurt is all in my hair. Chin yanks at Gillicut’s shirt, trying to get him off me, but he bats her away.

Where is Inkling?

Why isn’t he helping?

Oh, wait—I bet he stopped to eat Gillicut’s pizza.

Yep.

Inkling is filling himself with cheesy goodness while Gillicut is rampaging on me! I kick and flail.

“Do you want me to teach you a lesson?” Gillicut asks.

“What a stupid question,” I squeak. “Like you could teach me anything.”

“I told you I’d make you pay.”

I don’t answer, twisting my body to try to get out from under.

Gillicut’s fingers pinch my neck and twist, hard—

Oh.

Ms. Cherry is standing over us.

Gillicut drops his hand.

“Boys!” says Ms. Cherry, sharply. “Are you two fighting?”

“Yes!” cries Chin. “They are!”

“No, we’re not!” Gillicut stands up, releasing me. “It was all a big accident. A misunderstanding. I’m so sorry I fell over on you, Hank!”

He eyes Ms. Cherry but talks to me. I am lying on the floor in shock, cranberry juice and yogurt in my hair, sore in several places.

“Let me help you get some napkins,” says Gillicut, fake and hearty. “You have yogurt on your hair, and I think I have pizza on my face. Ha ha! I have pizza on my face, don’t I?” He laughs. Actually laughs, while smiling at Ms. Cherry.

I am staring at Gillicut’s thick calves beneath his shorts. His bony ankles going into sneakers without socks.

His ankles.

Horrible, mean, bully ankles.

I want to bite him.

I really do.

Want to lunge my head forward and bite Gillicut’s ankle as hard as I can, waggling my head around to make it hurt more, the way Inkling told me.

But just like the other day in the park—I want to do it, but my teeth are too scared.

“Ahhhhhh!” Gillicut goes down, anyway, hitting the floor with a thud and flailing his legs around, kicking in pain.

Inkling!

He’s not too scared to bite. I can see his teeth marks in Gillicut’s ankle—

“Ahhhhhh!” He’s throwing his legs around to get Inkling off him.

I start to sit up but, ow! Gillicut kicks me in the head and I go down again. Gillicut and Inkling and I are all tangled up now. There’s fur in my face and a foot against my shoulder—

“Hank! This is deeply inappropriate!”

Miss Cherry looms.

Reaches down.

Grabs.

Seconds later, I am standing. She has me firmly by the shoulder.

Gillicut is on the floor.

I’m dizzy. My head aches where he kicked me.

I’m not even sure what happened. I have no idea where Inkling is.

“We don’t bite our friends, Hank!” Ms. Cherry scolds.

What?