Dogs Don't Tell Jokes (8 page)

Gary nodded confidently.

At least he hoped he could catch. It had been a long time since anyone had thrown a football to him. For the first time since he’d seen the poster advertising the talent show, Gary thought about something else. He tried to imagine himself catching the football and running for a touchdown.

He tried not to think about it. It was like he had said at the airport. Daydreams never come true. If you imagine something happening, then it never happens that way.

It was all he thought about, and all he didn’t think about, until fifth period.

When the bell rang, he walked confidently toward the locker room. He wasn’t a goon. He was part of Joe’s team.

“Hi, Goon,” said Matt Hughes.

“How’s it goin’, Goon?” asked Paul Wattenburg.

He shrugged.

Ever since he had told them he didn’t want to be called Goon anymore, they said “Hi, Goon” to him whenever they saw him. At least they said “Hi” to him. That was something.

“I’m ready,” he told Joe as he joined the huddle.

Joe ignored him. For the first play, Joe called a pass to Zack over the middle.

“What about me?” asked Gary.

“Just hike the ball, Goon.”

After each play, Gary looked to Joe, but Joe kept telling him to hike the ball. He seemed to have forgotten all about their special play.

What made it even worse was that nobody else seemed to be playing very well. Zack had dropped two passes. Brian missed one. Joe had been sacked twice. They were losing six to nothing.

Joe looked desperately around the huddle. “Anybody got any ideas?” he asked. “Goon? What about you?”

He felt a knot in his stomach.

“Can you catch?” asked Joe.

“Sure, no problem.”

Joe sighed. “Nothin’ else seems to work. Play halfback. Take two quick steps to the side, and I’ll throw you a short pass, then you follow Zack around the end. Brian, you hike.”

It all happened very fast. Brian hiked the ball.
Gary took two steps and turned, but the ball was already there. It bounced off his face.

Joe was furious. “I thought you said you could catch!” he shouted. He shook his head in disgust. “You’re supposed to use your hands, not your face!”

His teammates laughed.

“Sorry,” said Gary. “It came too fast.”

“Oh, gee,” said Joe. “Next time I’ll underhand it to you.”

They returned to the huddle. “Sorry,” Gary said again.

Joe called the next play—a long pass to Brian. “You hike, Goon.”

Gary hiked the ball, but way too short. It hit the ground a foot in front of Joe, and the play was dead.

“Can’t you even hike the ball?” Joe asked him. “Okay, same thing,” he called, without even bothering to go back to the huddle. “Except someone else hike.”

“Where do you want me to play?” Gary asked.

“I don’t care!” snapped Joe. “You can’t catch! You can’t even hike the stupid ball! Just get out of my sight, Goon. I don’t want to see your face.”

Gary walked with his head down almost to
the sidelines—
almost
. When the ball was hiked, he turned and ran upfield.

No one was covering him. No one was near him. This was his play, exactly as Joe had planned it.

He looked over his shoulder as Joe released the ball. It came spiraling through the air.

He knew he’d drop it. He had known it all along. When Joe asked him first thing in the morning if he could catch—he knew then he’d drop it.

But in the back of his mind, he heard Angeline say, “You have to be the ball,” and for a nanosecond he understood. The ball came down. His hands went out to meet it, and he gently cradled it against his chest.

Everyone was charging toward him now, but he never broke stride as he continued running across the goal line for a touchdown.

He held the ball in front of his face and stared at it as if he didn’t know how it got there. Then he spiked it.

“My man!” shouted Joe as he slapped Gary’s hand high in the air.

One by one the players on both teams realized what had happened. It had all been an act—the dropped ball, the bad hike. The Goon had tricked them.

“Why didn’t you at least tell your own team?” asked Zack.

“I didn’t want anyone to give it away,” Joe said.

“Man, that was great!” said Brian. He looked at Gary. “You should be an actor!”

Gary was still out of breath. “It was a great pass,” he said. “I’m just glad I didn’t drop it.”

“Perfect,” said Zack. “It wouldn’t have worked with anyone else, but everyone already thinks you’re a goon. No offense. That’s just what everybody thinks. You know that. That’s why it worked so well,”

“I know,” said Gary.

Zack held up his hand and Gary slapped it.

“There’s a lot we don’t know about old Goon,” Joe said. He grabbed the back of Gary’s neck and playfully shook it, like a puppy. “I think he’s just been sandbagging us all along.”

Gary rubbed his hands over his face as he stood in front of his open locker, which was crammed with books. He tried to remember what he needed to bring home.

He was still pretty excited about his touchdown, but he had more important things to think about—jokes. He hadn’t made up any jokes yesterday, so he had to make up twice as many today.

He pulled out his math book, then slammed his locker shut before the rest of the books could fall. He still had to finish reading the pirate book too.

Ira Feldman laughed.

Gary turned.

“Michael told me what you said,” said Ira.

Gary didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Maybe you can take it back and they’ll give you a new one,” Ira said in a dumb-sounding voice that was supposed to be an imitation of Gary’s.

Gary remembered the “Bob Bremly” baseball card that one of the Higgins twins had showed him.

“So Michael says you’re going to start collecting baseball cards,” said Ira.

Gary shook his head. “No.”

“Oh,” said Ira. “You should.”

There it was again. Why in the world
should
he collect baseball cards? “I collect hats,” he said.

Ira looked at him, studying Gary like he might study one of his baseball cards. “Why do you always tell jokes?”

Gary shrugged. He didn’t bother to tell Ira that he’d actually stopped telling jokes. “To make people laugh.”

“Why?” asked Ira.

He shrugged again. “People like to laugh.”

Ira thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said, like it was
true for other people though not necessarily for him.

Gary walked away talking to himself. “Why do I like to make people laugh? What kind of question is that? Everyone likes to laugh. It’s good to laugh. I should ask Ira why he collects baseball cards, that’s what I should do.”

“Goon, think fast!”

A football was coming at his face. He held up his math book just in time. The ball hit it and knocked it out of his hands.

Joe and Zack laughed.

Gary laughed too as he picked up the ball.

“Goin’ long!” said Zack. Then he took off.

It took a moment for Gary to realize what he was supposed to do, and by then Zack was too far. Gary threw it as hard as he could, but the ball landed way short as Zack ran back to try and catch it.

“You want to go play some football?” asked Joe.

“Me? Sure.”

Zack threw the ball back to him. Gary planted his feet and waited to catch it, but Joe jumped in front of him and intercepted.

Joe then immediately lateraled it behind his
back to Gary, but Gary wasn’t ready and it bounced off his stomach.

He picked up the ball, then his math book, and ran after Joe and Zack.

“C’mon, you guys. Hustle your butts!” shouted Ryan Utt from the football field.

They had all heard about Gary’s trick play in gym class.

“That’s great, Goon,” said Paul. “I didn’t think you had it in you. I didn’t know you even knew how to catch.”

“Or even which way to run with the ball after you caught it,” said Matt.

Everyone laughed, even Gary.

“That’s his secret,” said Joe. “He’s just pretending to be a goon. You’re just sandbagging everyone, aren’t you?”

Gary smiled. He wished he knew what Joe meant by that.

There was an odd number of players, and after much discussion it was decided, “in order to be fair,” that Gary would be the designated center for both teams.

“Just until someone else comes,” said Joe. “You understand?”

“Sure,” Gary said. “But I can catch, too. I caught that touchdown—”

“Everyone already knows the trick play,” said Zack. “It won’t work twice.”

“Zack and I have been playing together a long time,” Joe explained. “I know his moves.”

“Besides, what’s wrong with playing center?” asked Paul. “You get to handle the ball on every play.”

“That’s right,” agreed Brian. “I sometimes go half a game without even getting to touch the ball.”

“It’s the most important position on the team,” said Matt. “It starts every play.”

Gary shrugged. He really didn’t mind playing center so much. But if it was such a great position, how come nobody else wanted to do it?

“What do they think I am—
stupid?
”

“You know the most important rule about playing center?” Ryan asked him.

“What?” asked Gary.

“Don’t let your butt get in the way of the ball!” said Ryan, then he cracked up.

Gary laughed too. He didn’t want Ryan to think he didn’t get the joke—even though he didn’t.

It was tackle, and everyone played a lot rougher than in gym class. Every time Gary
hiked the ball, somebody knocked him backward.

“Hey, Goon!” said Matt. “What do you call a snake that’s about a foot long and has scaly green skin and two sharp fangs?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either,” said Matt, “but it just crawled down your pants!”

Gary had heard it before, but he laughed anyway. Actually, he’d expected Matt to say, “It’s crawling on your neck.” He had to admit that “down your pants” was funnier than “on your neck.”

But Gary had also thought of two other punch lines.

I’m sharp today, he thought. I’m so sharp I have to be careful I don’t cut myself.

He realized he should have been home making up jokes. Now all he’d really have time to do was go home, eat dinner, do his math homework, and finish reading the pirate book.

Well, what’s one day? he thought. One day doesn’t matter. Besides, friends are important too.

He hiked the ball; then Paul knocked him backward.

Gary clapped his hands together. He was alone in his room, except for Whoopi Goldberg, Robin Williams, Jonathan Winters, Woody Allen, and W. C. Fields. “All right,” he said. “Here we go. The funniest jokes in the world!”

He glanced at the book on his desk. He still hadn’t finished reading it, and he had to give his book report in just two days. That’s okay, he thought. He had time.

“A duck walked into a doctor’s office. The doctor said, ‘What seems to be the problem?’ The duck said …

“The duck said …

“What’d the duck say?

“The duck didn’t say anything! He had laryngitis!” Gary rubbed his hands together. “That’s why he went to the doctor! No, not laryngitis. Quack-ingitis! Yeah, that’s funny. Quack-ingitis. No it isn’t.” He sat on his bed. “Okay, no ducks.”

He had expected that he might have a little trouble getting started, since he’d gone two days without making up jokes. No problem. It would take some time to get back in the flow.

Joe and Zack had asked him to play football again after school, but he turned them down.

“You won’t have to play center the whole time,” Joe had promised.

“I can’t,” Gary had said. “I got a stupid book report due Friday, and I haven’t even read the stupid book yet.”

“So, today’s only Wednesday,” said Zack.