Fiddlesticks (4 page)

Shawn wanted to. He really did. But Ronnie Kitch might be there.

Should he take the chance?

EIGHT

Ronny bugged Shawn all afternoon. He poked him with a pencil. He kicked his chair. He muttered put-downs.

“You told about the nickname,” Ronny whispered. “Miss Hershey scolded me at lunch.”

Shawn thought Miss Hershey's talk would change things. But it hadn't. Ronny was still pestering him.

Now Miss Hershey wasn't looking.

Ronny whispered again. “Better watch that dumb violin of yours. It might disappear!”

Shawn curled his toes inside his shoes. Ronny was rotten. Was he a thief, too?

Shawn didn't want to sit near Ronny anymore. He couldn't think about his work. He couldn't think about his violin lesson. And he couldn't think about something else. Trying out for soccer!

After school, Shawn's violin teacher greeted him. “How's it going, Shawn?” asked Mr. Jones.

“I have big surprise,” Shawn said.

Mr. Jones's eyes lit up. “What's the surprise?”

“I learn all songs for you,” Shawn said.

He tucked his violin under his chin and began to play.

Mr. Jones closed his eyes. He swayed to the music. Sometimes he stopped to point out soft and loud parts.

When Shawn finished, Mr. Jones smiled. “What a wonderful surprise. You
are an excellent violin player.”

Shawn bowed low. He wanted to bow—even in America.

After his lesson, Shawn hurried to the soccer field. He looked for Jason and Eric. They were nowhere in sight. Ronnie Kitch was. Right in the middle of everything.

Quickly, Shawn turned away. He gripped his violin case and remembered what Ronny had said.
Better watch your violin.

“No soccer for me,” Shawn said out loud.

“Why not?” a voice called.

Shawn spun around.

It was Jason Birchall.

“Hi,” Shawn said. He was glad to see his friend.

“You're staying, aren't you?” Jason asked.

“Well . . . uh . . .” Shawn looked down at his violin. He wanted to stay and play soccer. He really did. But he didn't want
to lose his violin. His wonderful, beautiful instrument. Ronny might steal it out from under his nose!

Just then, Coach spotted Shawn. “Welcome!” he called and kicked a ball to him.

Shawn stopped the ball with his foot. But he held on to his violin case.

“Come on!” hollered Jason. He was already running down the field.

So was Coach.

Shawn dribbled around the edge of the field. Far away from Ronny. His violin was safe with him.

He punted back and forth with Jason. Then he rocketed the ball toward the goal.

“Hey, good stuff!” hollered Jason.

Now Eric was there, too. “Glad you showed up,” he said. Then he stared at the violin. “Why are you carrying your instrument around?”

Shawn ran to get the ball.

Jason called to him, “It's not a good
idea. Your violin might get crunched.”

Shawn thought about it. He loved his violin. He was good at it. The music made him feel terrific.

“I keep violin with me,” Shawn said. He held up the case and grinned. “I run with music.”

Suddenly, Ronnie was coming at him.

Fast!

Shawn didn't have time to protect his violin.

He closed his eyes and prayed.

His violin was about to be history.

So was he!

NINE

Sa-whoosh!
Ronny flew past Shawn.

“Fiddlesticks!” Ronny whispered into the wind.

Shawn heard the nickname. He almost dropped his violin case. He gripped harder.

Seconds later, Ronnie turned around. He charged at Shawn again. “Fiddlesticks never play soccer!” he hissed.

Shawn wanted to bop him. Flatten him good!

But the nickname mixed him up. He
couldn't remember what to do with his feet.

His ball spun away. It was loose at midfield.

Ronny laughed. “Fiddlesticks boy!”

Shawn was still carrying his violin. He looked down. He thought,
This case very hard. Make good head hopper.

He scanned the field. The coach was at the other end—out of sight. He would never see Ronny getting bopped!

Shawn raised his violin case. His heart thumped.

“Don't!” yelled Eric from the goal.

Ronny punted a ball off his head. “You'll be sorry if you hit me!” he shouted at Shawn.

Ka-boink!
Ronny's ball bounced off Shawn's violin case. On purpose.

Shawn saw Eric dashing toward him. “Don't fight back!” Eric yelled. “Remember the Golden Rule.”

Just then, Coach came running. He
nabbed Ronny. He lugged him right off the field.

Ronny roared and ranted.

Jason laughed. “What a big baby!”

Shawn agreed, but he didn't say anything. He felt awful. He'd almost hit Ronny.

He'd come so close.

At home, Shawn and Abby had a long talk.

Abby read Matthew 7:12 out loud.

“Read very slow,” Shawn said.

Abby did. “ ‘Do for other people the same things you want them to do for you,' ” she read.

“Gold rule?” Shawn asked.

“The
Golden
Rule,” Abby told him. “The most important rule of all.”

Shawn thought about the Bible verse. He thought about Ronny Kitch.

“Ronny not know rule?” he asked.

Abby shook her head. “I doubt it.”

“I teach,” Shawn said. “I teach Ronny Golden Rule.”

Abby looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

“You see,” Shawn said.

“Be careful around Ronny,” Abby said. “He could easily beat you up.”

“I get strong body,” Shawn said. He stood up. “And you help me.”

He went outside. Abby followed.

“I be strong. No more fiddlestick legs. No more jelly bean muscles,” Shawn explained.

He knelt down in the grass. He started with push-ups. Next, came sit-ups. Shawn ran around the backyard while Abby timed him.

“Now measure,” Shawn said. He wanted Abby to see if his arms were bigger. His legs, too.

Abby found the measuring tape.

He hadn't grown.

The second day, Shawn ran and jumped some more. He did twenty sit-ups. He groaned through fifteen push-ups.

Abby measured his muscles. “No change,” she said.

Every day Shawn did his exercises. For two whole weeks!

He ate more food than usual. More American food, too. Pizza and cheeseburgers.

Ice cream and cake.

And lots of celery with gooey dips.

The day before soccer tryouts, Abby measured Shawn's muscles. “They're the same size,” she said.

Shawn frowned. “What go wrong?”

Abby tried to explain. “Building up your body takes time. Two weeks isn't enough. Keep exercising.”

Shawn sat on the porch step. His face drooped. “I still fiddlesticks. I always be fiddlesticks.”

“That's not true!” Abby sat beside him.
“You're Shawn Hunter. Don't call yourself fiddlesticks anymore!”

Shawn was quiet.

So was Abby.

Brr-eep!
A cricket chirped.

Buzz-za biz-z-z.
Bees hummed.

At last, Shawn said, “Maybe I supposed to be small.”

“Small isn't so bad,” Abby said.

Then Shawn had an idea. “I be fast! Fastest small person in world!”

Abby grinned. “That's a double dabble good idea.”

“Tomorrow, I be fastest player on soccer field!”

Shawn couldn't wait for tryouts.

TEN

That night, Shawn packed away his chopsticks.

“I use fork now,” he said at supper. “I live in America.”

Abby smiled.

So did the rest of the family.

After supper, Shawn helped Abby load the dishwasher. When they were finished, he asked her to pray. “I want God to help.”

“About making the soccer team?” Abby asked.

Shawn nodded. He pointed to himself.
“About skinny body, too.”

Abby smiled. “God won't make you big overnight.”

Shawn frowned. “I
need
big, power body.”