Total Knockout (21 page)

As for how she acted toward me, she did nothing more than walk past me silently on the bus.

“Hey,” I said to Cooper. “You there? How's Melanie
really
handling this whole thing?”

He turned his eyes down to the inside of his mug and shrugged. “I don't know. She blew up at me on Friday and hasn't really talked to me since.”

“Why'd she blow up at you?”

“Said I let her take the fall alone.”

“But she's president,” I said. “And it was her idea.” It was both the wonderful and the totally worst thing about being boss—good or bad, it all came down to you. Like, you could spar with the best and have the most amazing coach and cut-man and promoter and whatever else, but everything that goes on in that ring is all down to you.

“I didn't try to argue with her, and she hasn't talked to me since.”

“I don't get it,” I said, wondering how far I could tread without upsetting Cooper any more than he already was. “Because it seems like she's talking to everyone else about it. Every time I pass her she's joking about what a beautifully spectacular event it was. I heard her tell Shawn Keane that it was worth getting in trouble for.”

Still staring into his mug, Cooper said, “I'm not even sure we're still together.”

Cooper looked absolutely miserable. His shoulders were all slumped, and his eyes looked heavy and burdened. I wanted to at least put my hand on his knee, pat his back or something, but I didn't want to spook him again. Plus, I was still detoxing myself of those feelings I'd had of him. I expected to make a full recovery.

“Why do you say that?” I asked him.

“I don't know. Can you still be together when you haven't talked in a week?” Cooper's cheeks flushed pink, and I could tell he was getting riled up. “She won't answer when I call, she doesn't return my texts or e-mails, and she totally avoids me at school. I left her a note in her locker, you know, just telling her that the pie toss
was
a good idea, but I'm not even sure that's what she wants to
hear, because you're right, she does joke all the time to everyone but me about what happened.” Cooper let out a deep breath, then sipped his hot chocolate.

I wanted to tell him that it was really crappy of Melanie to be so mean to him. He'd never done anything but be nice to her. I understood that she was feeling low—who could understand better than me?—but I also learned, the hard way, that you can't take your anger out on innocent people. Which made me realize, with a pang to my heart, that Melanie and I had both misused Cooper's generosity. I had been no better to Cooper than Melanie was being to him now, and that made me feel ashamed.

When I looked out toward our street, I noticed a red dot bobbing down the sidewalk. I nudged Cooper. “Melanie,” I said.

As he turned to look, there was a pained, hopeful look in his eyes. She turned up his driveway, and Cooper tossed the rest of his hot chocolate on the ground, then dropped the mug on the dead grass.

“Want me to leave?” I asked, but Cooper didn't say anything. When I scooted to the edge of the trampoline to get down, Melanie was close enough to say to me, “You don't have to go.” I sat back, wondering what
she would say. She was wearing her magic red hat, and I wondered why she needed it today.

She stood before the trampoline, looking between the springs for a moment. “I figured you'd both be here,” she said, and I wondered if I heard an accusing tone in her voice. She looked up at Cooper, but quickly turned her attention back to the springs. “So anyway,” she said quickly, “I guess that's it then.” For a moment she didn't say anything more, and I wondered if she was talking about him or the student council. Melanie looked at me, her clear brown eyes boring straight into mine before she again turned back to the springs. “I'm done. I have about as much to do with the student council now as you do,” she finally said.

My heart raced. “You can't quit. That's what everyone expects you to do.”

She rolled her eyes, and I could tell she was only feigning indifference. “I wish. Mrs. Peoria actually thinks I did it just to get kicked off. Everyone knew I didn't want to be president. Mrs. P said she wasn't about to go through the trouble to replace me, but she did take away all my power.” Melanie laughed at this. “Whatever, I don't care. She's right—I didn't want to be president. You know that.”

I realized so many things at once. That Melanie used to always gloss over her problems with a smile and a joke, but twice now she had faced them—now, and when she'd approached me on the bus. And I didn't even recognize her bravery in doing this.

I also realized, fully and finally, that I had forced Melanie into a position she'd never wanted any part of, a position I knew she wasn't cut out for. My own need for power and success at any price not only led to my own downfall, but it also put Melanie in this position now. “Melanie,” I began, “I'm really sorry about everything. I never should have asked you to—”

“It's fine, whatever,” she interrupted. “It was fun for a couple of weeks, and what better way to go out than with P-Day? I mean, I couldn't have hoped for a better ending.” Even as she spoke, I could tell she was lying, even if she didn't know it.

Finally, she looked at Cooper. So did I. My heart raced for him. He look petrified, like he couldn't speak even if he wanted to. She smiled at him, but it was a sad smile, and my stomach clenched at what was coming next. I wished I was anywhere but there. “Coop,” she said. She tossed her hair off her shoulder, and I knew she was pretending like it was no big deal. “Look, I'm sorry
but . . . you know.” She plucked the springs with her fingernail. “Thanks for, um, being cool and everything.”

Cooper sat with his eyes scrunched up, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“So anyway,” Melanie said definitively. “I guess I'll see y'all around.” She gave us each one last look, then turned around and walked off.

It wasn't until she'd turned back onto the road that Cooper seemed to find his voice. “What,” he said, “was
that
?” He stood up on the trampoline and strained his neck to get a better view of her. “Did she just break up with me? Is that what that was?” I didn't know if he actually wanted me to respond, so I kept my mouth shut. Yeah, she hadn't handled it perfectly, but at least she had tried. Cooper looked down at me and asked, “Is it?”

I understood how angry he was. I thought of the morning I'd forced him to box me, then sucker punched him. “I don't know,” I said.

“‘I'm sorry, thanks for everything'? Is that how you break up?”

“Coop, sit down,” I said, hoping it would calm him down. That's what people on TV and in movies always seemed to do. He dropped down on the trampoline, spilling my hot chocolate, now cold, on the blanket. I
didn't say anything but tossed what was left on the grass and held the empty mug.

“You were right,” Cooper said. “I should have listened to you. She totally bailed just like you said she would.”

“No, Coop,” I said. Maybe her bailing had something to do with her mom. Whatever it was, I didn't think she meant to be mean or cold. “I think she's just upset about everything.”

“So she breaks up with me? Please. She doesn't care about anyone but herself. And she dumped me in front of you! Not that I care, but dang. You don't break up in front of other people, do you?” he asked, as if I knew anything about dating.

“No,” I said, “you don't.” I decided not to say anything more. Sometimes it felt good to be mad for a little while, and between Melanie and me, Cooper had definitely earned that right.

We sat on the trampoline until it was dark. I realized, as he alternately ranted and sulked, that I would never try to kiss him again. His friendship meant more to me than any romantic thing ever could. Besides, even if he felt the same way about me, we'd eventually break up—we were only thirteen, for crying
out loud. What would we be like post–boyfriend/girlfriend? We'd never again be like we were now. And the way we were now was the best way to be. Best friends. Always.

At home, I sat on my bed after I'd finished my homework, holding Paddy, and thought about everything that had happened.

I had expected my eighth-grade year to be my best, but instead it had turned into a muddled mess that I never could have predicted—and I wasn't even through the first semester yet. Then I realized, sitting alone in my quiet room, that despite all the change that had been happening in my life—at school, with my friends, in my life's ambition—that almost nothing had changed at home. That is, until we were called for dinner.

Dad made dinner. It'd been a long time since he'd cooked, and by the looks of things, Henry had convinced him to try some of his new vegetarian grub. Dad made falafel from a boxed mix; picked up hummus and
pitas at the market; and cut up some tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and lettuce.

“What's this?” Mom asked, looking skeptically at her plate.

“It's Mediterranean,” Dad said. “You'll like it.”

“And no animals were killed in the making of this meal,” Henry added, nodding at Dad.

“You made this together?” I asked.

“Yep. Henry's idea.” Dad smiled.

I had to admit I was a little jealous that Dad and Henry had worked together on something. Dad and I hadn't done anything in months. It seemed like the days of him taking me to his gym to work the bag were long gone.

“How are we supposed to do this?” Mom asked, peeking inside her pita as if the answer might be hidden there.

“Pack it in,” Dad said. She looked at him like he had just suggested she smear the putty-colored hummus on her face. “Here,” Dad said, getting up. “I'll do it. It's like a sandwich.”

“It
is
a sandwich. It's Egyptian,” Henry said, tucking falafel balls into his pita, then spooning the hummus on top of them and adding the vegetables. He topped that with another dollop of hummus. I mimicked him.

“What's that weird brown stuff?” Mom asked, but she seemed amused that Dad was making her pita for her. I noticed that he picked out the extra-thin-sliced tomatoes for her, just like she liked.

“Hummus. It's mashed chickpeas, mostly,” Dad said. “There.” He presented the plate back to Mom. “Do you know how to say ‘bon appétit' in Egyptian, Henry?”

“Mmm, no,” he said. “But let's hope this food nourishes our bodies as well as our minds.”

I only wanted to gag a little bit, but I still smiled at my little brother.

Dad sat down and watched Mom as she picked up her pita, hesitated, then took a bite. She slowly began to nod. “Hmm!” she said through a mouthful. “It's good!”

Dad beamed, then chomped into his own. I was pretty sure that Mom hadn't complimented him in a long time, and was glad that she did tonight, in front of Henry and me.

“Speaking of food,” I began in a pathetic attempt to get some attention focused on me. “Did anyone hear about the fund-raiser the school had last week?”

“Evelyn at work told me about it,” Mom said. She looked at Dad and said, “Pie toss turned into a pie fight.”

“Ah.” Dad nodded, looking amused.

“It's worse than that,” Henry said. “My friend Simon's sister said that almost a hundred pies were totally wasted for no good reason at all. Think of all those eggs in those pies, and all those chickens that had to lay those eggs in cramped quarters for
nothing
.”

I sighed. For a guy who supposedly meditated every morning, Henry sure knew how to rile himself up. “That,” I said, “and the student council lost money for the first time in its history.
Ever,
” I emphasized in case anyone missed it. I shook my head. “A travesty.”

“How's Melanie taking it?” Mom asked, wiping the corner of her mouth.

“Not so well,” I said, enjoying having someone to talk to about it. “I mean, she wants everyone to believe she's fine, but I'm not so sure. She's just laughing it off and making a joke of it. She wasn't kicked off the council, but it's like she's already quit.”

“Really?” Dad asked, sounding surprised.

“Yes,” I said, feeling uneasy with the way he was looking at me.

“Huh,” was all he said.

Then Mom asked Henry what he was working on at school, and he launched into a speech about getting
yoga included in PE, leaving me in silence to wonder why Dad kept darting his eyes at me when he thought I wasn't looking.

After dinner, Dad insisted he clean the kitchen even though Mom said it wasn't fair that he had to cook
and
clean (!). So, she kissed his cheek (double !) and went back to the bedroom with her laptop clutched to her chest. Henry told us all “peace” and went to his room, and I went to the living room, pulled a blanket over my lap, and turned on the TV to watch my favorite crime investigation show.