Poached (16 page)

Before I knew what was happening, Vance shoved me toward TimJim, who grabbed my arms and hoisted me off the ground.

Xavier had told me about swirlies. They were by far the worst of a long list of abuses Vance and his pals were known to dole out. The victim was dragged to the most disgusting toilet in the school and inserted headfirst into it, after which Vance would flush. There was a great deal of competition for the most disgusting toilet at our school. Many of them tended to be clogged and were thus full of more poop than FunJungle's hippo pools. Although I really didn't want to cause any more trouble at the park, I wanted to get a swirlie even less.

“Wait!” I said. “Let's talk about this!”

“You already had your chance to talk.” Vance led the way to the bathroom, grinning devilishly.

“Help!” I yelled, desperately looking around for anyone else. To my dismay, all the other students were either at lunch or wisely staying out of Vance's sight.

I thrashed about, trying to break free from TimJim's grip—or to at least boot one of them in the shins—but they held my arms tightly and kept their legs away from mine with the skill of boys who'd performed swirlies many times before.

Vance kicked open the door to the boys' room closest to the cafeteria. This bathroom was renowned as one of the least sanitary places at school, if not on planet Earth. Someone—probably Vance—had wrecked the pipes with cherry bombs. The toilets still worked, in theory, but they tended to back up and overflow. Thus this bathroom was generally avoided like the plague. I think even the janitors stayed clear. It looked as though it had been several weeks since the last cleaning. Toilet paper was strung everywhere, and water was puddled on the floor. The place smelled worse than anywhere I'd ever been, which was saying something, given that I lived at a zoo.

“Please, Vance,” I pleaded. “Don't do this. I'll do whatever prank you want.” I wasn't proud of myself, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “You want to tip rhinos, fine. We can go tip rhinos.” Maybe I'd made a mistake in talking them out of that before. I should have let them try it and all get trampled.

Vance acted like he didn't even hear me. He now seemed more excited about the swirlie than about any prank at FunJungle. “Let's do stall five,” he said. “That one's been really foul lately.”

TimJim laughed, although rather than the usual sniggering, this sounded almost diabolical. The boys upended me and carried me to stall five.

I knew about stall five. It was the worst of the worst. The kids at school called it the Toilet of Doom.

I stopped pleading. It wasn't doing any good. Plus, given that I was about to end up headfirst in foul water, I thought it was best if I kept my mouth closed.

Vance opened stall five and faked a gasp of disgust for my benefit. “Ooh. This is even worse than usual. Looks like someone with a disease used it today. And forgot to flush.”

TimJim laughed again and carried me forward. I caught my first glimpse of the Toilet of Doom. It was worse than I'd ever imagined.

I shut my eyes, held my breath, and prepared for the worst.

Before TimJim could plunge me in, however, the bathroom door banged open.

“Put him down,” someone said.

I couldn't see who was speaking, since I was facing the wrong way and unable to turn around, but the voice was
obviously that of a fellow student rather than a teacher.

I
could
see Vance, although it was a little hard to make out his expression, as I was upside down, looking up his nose. At first he seemed to be a little unsettled by whoever had entered, but he quickly played the tough guy again. “You gonna make me?”

“No,” said a second person, entering the room. “
We're
gonna make you.”

Now that he was facing
two
people, whoever they were, Vance's tough act faltered, though he struggled to seem imposing. “There's three of us,” he said. “Try anything and we'll crush you.”

“I don't think so,” the first voice said calmly. “Now put the kid down.”

Tim and Jim turned around, taking me with them, so I could now see who'd come to my rescue.

It was Ethan Sokol and Dashiell Alexander. They were eighth graders and, better yet, stars of the school football team. In the Texas middle school system, this meant they might as well have been gods. Ethan was a wide receiver and Dash was the quarterback. Though neither was quite as big as TimJim, they were in much better shape. I had no idea what they were doing standing up for me. Neither of them had ever said a word to me before. Up to that point, I'd have guessed they didn't know I existed.

“This isn't any of your business,” Vance told them. “Just walk away.” I noticed that Vance was saying this from safely behind TimJim rather than in front of them.

Ethan and Dashiell came toward us, unfazed. “Put the kid down . . . or we'll make you,” Ethan warned.

TimJim flipped me upright and set me on my feet, although this wasn't out of any kindness. They were simply getting ready to attack.

Before I could make a move, Vance locked his arms around me, holding me tight. “Get them!” he yelled.

TimJim lunged forward, as obedient as a hunting dog.

Ethan and Dash were ready, though. Ethan quickly sidestepped Tim, then used the thug's momentum against him, grabbing his arm and whirling him headfirst into the wall. Tim's skull bounced off the tile and he went down. Dash took the more direct approach. He simply punched Jim in the stomach. Jim folded like a pocketknife and collapsed to the floor.

Just like that, Tim and Jim were out of commission.

Without his muscle, Vance suddenly wasn't so tough anymore. “Stay back!” he yelled, his voice cracking, and then turned me toward stall five, using me as a hostage. “Let me go or I'll dunk Teddy!”

Vance wasn't as big and strong as TimJim, however, and he was distracted. I had a chance against him—and I definitely
didn't want to end up in that toilet. Before I knew what was happening, my instincts had kicked in. I lifted both legs and kicked off the door frame of stall five, forcing Vance and me backward. Vance, caught by surprise, slipped on the wet floor and tumbled. He landed flat on his back and I landed on top of him, my skull cracking him in the face. That hurt me—but it hurt Vance a lot more. The back of my head caught him right in the lips.

Vance howled in pain, relaxing his grip on me. I quickly wriggled free and scrambled to my feet.

However, Vance got up just as quickly and snagged my arm, spinning me to face him. His mouth was now full of blood—I'd smashed his lips into his own teeth—making him look even more devilish than usual.

I tried to pull free of him. I may have been a lot smaller than Vance, but I was having a major adrenaline rush. Vance tried to keep his grip on me, but his feet slipped on the wet floor and he pitched forward. I leaped out of the way—and as I did, I saw the look on Vance's bloodied face shift from anger to terror.

He pitched past me, straight into stall five—and landed face-first in the Toilet of Doom.

I didn't actually see him do it. Even though Vance had made my life miserable every chance he got, I couldn't bring myself to watch and averted my eyes. The sound was
disgusting enough. There was a sickening wet slap as his face plunged in, then a brief moment of silence—and then the sound of Vance pulling himself back out and screaming in horror.

He lurched out of the stall, wild-eyed, wet toilet paper and things I didn't even want to think about dangling from his hair. He'd immediately forgotten all about me. Now he only wanted to be clean. He raced to the sink, only to find that, as usual, the taps weren't working. “No!” he moaned, and then bolted from the bathroom, racing right past Ethan, Dashiell, and TimJim in search of clean water. It almost sounded as though he was crying as he ran down the hall.

Ethan and Dashiell turned to me—and then burst into laughter.

“That was awesome!” Ethan cried.

“Classic,” Dashiell agreed. “Students here are gonna be talking about this for
years.”

“Thanks for saving me,” I told them.

“You should thank your pal Xavier,” Ethan said. “He's the one who came and got us.”

“Are you all right?” Dashiell asked me.

I realized my heart was still hammering in my chest, the result of the adrenaline. My whole body felt numb. I had to check the mirror to make sure I wasn't hurt. “I'm fine,” I said.

“C'mon,” Ethan told me. “Let's get some lunch.”

After witnessing—and smelling—everything that had just transpired, I wasn't the slightest bit hungry. But I'd learned some rules of middle school, and one of the major ones was, when the varsity football players invite you to lunch, you eat with them.

“Sure,” I said, and we headed for the cafeteria, leaving TimJim sprawled on the bathroom floor behind us.

For the first time in
either of our lives, Xavier and I ate lunch with the popular kids. Dash and Ethan invited us to sit with the Royals in the center of the cafeteria.

It wasn't as amazing as I'd expected. Everyone had regarded the Royals so highly; I had figured they'd all be fascinating. Instead they were surprisingly normal. They were just like everyone else—except maybe a bit more attractive and better at sports. They hadn't ignored me—and most everyone else—out of spite. They were simply sticking to their own clique of friends, the way pretty much everyone else did.

Now that they had a reason to be introduced to Xavier and me, however, the Royals were all welcoming and friendly. No one seemed upset that we were suddenly at their table—although they weren't really paying that much attention to
us. Instead they were riveted to Dash and Ethan, who were recounting the story of Vance and TimJim's defeat in sickening detail.

If the Royals weren't focused on us, however, everyone else in the cafeteria seemed to be. As I ate my lunch, I could feel the eyes of the entire school on me, hundreds of fellow students watching my every move with curiosity and jealousy, already spreading rumors about what I had done to gain access to the exalted center table.

Meanwhile, Xavier was beside himself. “How cool is this?” he whispered to me as he dug into his food. “We're eating with the cheerleaders!”

I faked an enthusiastic smile, then glanced toward a gaggle of the Royal girls. They were all laughing at Dash and Ethan, who were recounting Vance's face-plant into the Toilet of Doom—except one.

Violet Grace, the head cheerleader, was looking at me. But the moment I caught her at it, she turned away and pretended as though she hadn't been. The same way I'd noticed plenty of other kids doing that day.

I began to get the feeling that something was going on at school. Something everyone else knew about that somehow I didn't.

Ethan and Dash wrapped up their story, and the Royals cheered with approval.

Violet looked back toward me. This time, however, she didn't turn away again. Instead she asked, “So you're really the kid in the koala video?”

I was thrown for a moment. If our school had royalty, Violet was the queen. She was the quintessential Texas cheerleader: beautiful, brunette, and green-eyed, and a fountain of energy and enthusiasm. While the other cheerleaders were cute, Violet was so attractive it was intimidating. My immediate thought was that she had to be talking to someone else besides me.

“Er . . . what video?” I asked.

Now Violet seemed thrown. “On YouTube,” she clarified. “The one with a million hits.”

“I don't know what video that is,” I said.

“You don't?” Violet turned to her fellow cheerleaders and said, “He doesn't even know!”

The cheerleaders all giggled in response.

I felt my ears and neck get hot. I must have been turning red in embarrassment.

Violet noticed. “Oh!” she cried. “Don't be upset. It's cool. I just figured you knew.
Everybody's
seen it.”

So that was why everyone had been stealing glances at me all day. “
I
haven't seen it,” I said.

“Hold on.” Violet quickly dug her phone out of her purse and brought up YouTube on it. She slid next to me
so we could both watch, and several of the Royals crowded around us to see it again. I was now so close to Violet I could smell her. She smelled surprisingly good—like the rain forest in bloom—and I suddenly worried what I smelled like. Hopefully not the zoo—or worse, the Toilet of Doom.

I caught Xavier staring at Violet nestled against my side. He didn't seem excited to be with the Royals anymore. Instead he looked jealous of me.

I quickly turned my attention to the video on Violet's phone. It was one of the many that had been posted showing Marge and Bubba smashing into the koala exhibit the day before. However, this one was from a better angle than the others I'd seen in Tracey's office. And unlike many of those, it was shot from close by, in focus.