Run Read online

  Copyright © 2017 David Skuy

  This edition copyright © 2017 Cormorant Books Inc.

  This is a first edition.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the publisher or a licence from The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (Access Copyright). For an Access Copyright licence, visit www.accesscopyright.ca or call toll free 1.800.893.5777.

  The publisher gratefully acknowledges the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for its publishing program. We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund (cbf) for our publishing activities, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Media Development Corporation, an agency of the Ontario Ministry of Culture, and the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit Program.

  library and archives canada cataloguing in publication

  Skuy, David, 1963–, author Run / David Skuy.

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-77086-488-7 (paperback).— isbn 978-1-77086-489-4 (html)

  i. Title.

  ps8637.k72r86 2017 jc813›.6 c2016-907294-0 c2016-907295-9

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2016945420

  Cover design: angeljohnguerra.com

  Interior text design: Tannice Goddard, bookstopress.com

  Manufactured by Friesens in Altona, Manitoba, Canada in March, 2017.

  Printed and bound in Canada.

  cormorant books inc.

  10 st. mary street, suite 615, toronto, ontario, m4y 1p9

  www.cormorantbooks.com

  To my kids.

  They voted for this book

  a long time ago.

  Sorry it took so long!

  Wednesday: 8:50 a.m.

  Lionel closed his eyes. His head began to pound, right at the base, and his chest ached, like someone was pressing on it, but slowly. He didn’t dare let them notice, not for a second. If they saw his fear, sensed weakness, they’d pounce.

  “Yo, Nick, I’m so open it hurts,” Bryan yelled.

  Nick hurled the football, a tight spiral. Bryan jumped. The ball bounced off his hands.

  “Great catch, loser. Try catching it with your butt next time,” Nick said.

  “Try not throwing it over my head, moron,” Bryan said.

  He reached for the ball.

  “I’ll show you how it’s done,” Mohamed said, cutting across the school yard.

  Bryan threw it. The ball wobbled, but Mohamed changed directions and scooped it up before it hit the asphalt.

  Lionel glanced at the doors, anxious for the morning bell to ring. If he left school grounds, he might be late again. Principal Ryder was all over him lately. She’d even threatened to call his mom if he was late one more time. He pressed his back against the chain-link fence. At least at recess or lunch he could slip into a washroom stall, or the library, or head to the park.

  Two boys, one blond with a round, soft face and freckles, and the other, short with brown hair and a backpack too big for his little frame, walked towards him. His heart began pounding. He didn’t need those two attracting attention to him. Lionel slouched down and pretended to tie his shoelaces.

  “Hi, Lionel,” the blond boy said. “How’s it going?”

  Lionel wanted to literally kill him. Nick would notice three loser kids talking.

  “I’m good,” Lionel muttered.

  Stephane was so clueless. No wonder he was Nick’s favorite target.

  “Do you know if Whellan is gonna make us read our stories tomorrow?” Jaime asked.

  “No idea,” Lionel said.

  Whellan was their English teacher. He’d made them write a short story, and now he was forcing them to read it out loud — in front of everyone.

  He glanced over. Nick had the ball and Bryan was running for a pass. The bell had to ring soon. He might get lucky.

  “I’m nervous about reading my story,” Jaime said. “I wish we didn’t have to.”

  The ball nicked Bryan’s fingertips and bounced to the fence next to Jaime.

  “Bro, toss me the ball,” Bryan said.

  Jaime underhanded it to him.

  “Another awesome grab from Bryan Butterfingers Klutz-Face,” Nick taunted.

  He and Mohamed had come over.

  “Toss it to me,” Nick said.

  Bryan slipped it over.

  Nick whipped the ball into Jaime’s chest in one motion. It bounced back to him.

  “Sorry, weren’t you ready?” Nick laughed.

  Jaime gasped, and then laughed uneasily, rubbing his chest. Stephane gripped his backpack straps.

  “You wanna toss the ball around with us?” Nick said. He stepped closer until he was practically nose-to-nose with Stephane.

  “Hey, Nick … um … not really. I … School’s about to start,” Stephane managed.

  Lionel slowed his breathing and looked down at the ground, pressing his back against the fence. He didn’t dare move.

  “Maybe another time?” Nick said.

  Stephane nodded. “Sure. Maybe.”

  The three boys roared.

  “Absolutely, bro. We gotta get out on the field and play some ball,” Nick said.

  He slapped Stephane on the shoulder. Stephane winced.

  Nick looked over at Lionel. A big smile crossed his face.

  “What about you? You gonna play ball with us?”

  Lionel didn’t react. He was looking into his backpack, as if he’d lost something inside.

  “Yo, retard. Do you ever know what’s going on?” Nick taunted.

  Lionel pretended he still wasn’t listening.

  “Ha!” Nick screamed, karate-chopping his hand in front of Lionel’s face.

  Lionel slowly lifted his head. They’d throw some shade — and then go away.

  “The kid is retarded. Told ya,” Nick said.

  He shoved Lionel against the fence.

  “You a freakin’ retard?” Nick yelled in his face.

  Lionel barely moved a muscle. Inside, his head was ready to explode and he couldn’t breathe.

  Nick backed away and nodded at two girls talking by the doors. “C’mon guys. The ladies need some of our awesomeness … at least mine, anyway.”

  He headed over, Bryan and Mohamed right behind.

  “Those guys,” Jaime muttered, rubbing his chest again.

  “They just like showing off,” Stephane said. “They’re not serious.”

  “Nick is,” Jaime said. “Yesterday I saw him slam a kid’s head against a locker.”

  “Why?” Stephane said.

  Jaime shrugged. “Because Nick’s an idiot.”

  Lionel moved away from them. They were the idiots for drawing attention to themselves. He’d had it under control, and then they had to talk to him. Nick scared him to death. That voice. He had a way of yelling that brought Lionel back to when he was a little boy, and his dad would yell so loud Lionel would pee in his pants. Once, his dad noticed and called him “Pee-Pee Pants” for a few days.

  Lionel broke out in a cold sweat over his entire body, and for a horrible second, he thought he’d pee himself right then.

  Nick and his friends were laughing with Kiana and Rashmi. Nick and Mohamed played on the senior basketball team, and Bryan was on the track team with Kiana, so Lionel sort of got why the girls hung with them — sort of. They were jerks, but the girls didn’t seem to care. These were popular boys, athletes, sure of themselves, funny, tough. They did what they wanted.

  Lionel slouched down
and made himself small.

  Kiana was laughing. Nick rubbed her back. Lionel figured they were boyfriend and girlfriend. Nick was always talking to her in English and math.

  The bell sounded.

  Lionel stood up. He hated this place, but he was terrified of high school next year — things might be worse then. He could legally quit school when he turned sixteen, but that was three more brutal years.

  Lionel steeled his nerve and pushed off from the fence. Nick and the girls were inside already, but there were others to watch out for. Lionel walked slowly, evenly, but not so slowly that anyone would notice. He kept his eyes down and his shoulders soft, but not slouching, his breath shallow and weak.

  No one looked at him. He bet no one even knew he was there.

  Stephane and Jaime were talking to each other.

  “You should tell Principal Ryder. He can’t throw footballs at people,” Stephane said.

  “Yeah, right,” Jaime said. “Then he’ll really kill me.”

  They pushed past Lionel and went inside. Lionel let people pass him, until he was almost the last to go in. He always made sure he wasn’t too early to class. Best to get there when it was full and kids were talking. Then they’d ignore you as you took your seat.

  His back was sweaty. Nick had once noticed a sweat stain on his shirt and called him “The Big Stink,” which is why he always had some emergency deodorant in his backpack. He had math first period with Nick, and he was only a row over from him. After what just happened, he didn’t want to take any chances. He might miss announcements, but he could probably get by without a late slip.

  Lionel turned at the bottom of the stairs and went into the washroom. This was the least-used one in the school, and he’d spent his share of recesses here. He took the far stall. For a moment he was tempted to skip math altogether and stay, but Kiana was in his class too. She was worth the risk.

  Once in a while, Kiana even said hi.

  He felt incredibly tired all of a sudden. The entire day seemed so long, and it hadn’t even started. He hoped it wouldn’t rain — he wanted to eat lunch at the park, away from everyone.

  When Lionel finally left the stall, he saw himself in the mirror over the sink.

  He turned away in disgust — a big, fat nobody.

  Wednesday 9:00 a.m.

  Lionel pulled his chair back noiselessly, slipped his backpack underneath the table, and sat.

  “Hey, Kiana,” Nick said. “You wasting your time at track practise after school, or you and Rashmi want to hang at Pearl’s?”

  “I’ve got to waste my time, sorry,” Kiana said. “And after that I’ve got to get home and walk the dog.”

  Pearl’s was a café around the corner. The cool kids in Lionel’s grade had started to go there.

  “The dog? Seriously? C’mon. It’s on me,” Nick said.

  “I told my dad I’d do it,” Kiana said, a little sharply.

  “That’s cool,” Nick laughed. “I love dogs, too. Take pooch for a walk, for sure. Give her a kiss from me. Is it a she or a he?”

  Kiana smiled and tossed her hair to the side. “She’s a Britney.”

  Lionel kept his eyes firmly on his desk. He could picture Kiana with a dog named Britney.

  “You ready for the Mr. Bore Show?” Nick said to Kiana.

  Bore was Nick’s name for their math teacher, Mr. Ghaboor. This was about as funny as Nick ever got.

  Ghaboor came in before Kiana could answer.

  “Good morning, class,” he said.

  Lionel closed his eyes and pushed on them with his palms. His headache had spread and was pulsating under his eyebrows. He might be able to get out of school today if it got worse. He had to get through this class. No way he’d ask to leave in the middle.

  “We will continue our discussion of solving problems related to perimeter, area, surface area, and volume,” Ghaboor said. “Please open your textbooks to page eighty-two.”

  The class erupted with the rustling of papers and books. Lionel turned to the page and held the book in his hands. Teachers thought a kid was totally into the subject if he held his textbook. Lionel had even fallen asleep in class, and as long as he held on to his textbook, the teacher didn’t bug him.

  “Settle yourselves, please,” Mr. Ghaboor said. “This is not the jungle. It is a classroom.”

  “Then why’d I bring my spear?” Nick said.

  The room tittered.

  Lionel chuckled. He didn’t want Nick to think he was disrespecting him.

  Ghaboor took a piece of chalk and began drawing a graph. A folded piece of paper landed on Lionel’s desk. A chill ran down his spine. The girl next to him nodded at Kiana. Nick had taken to passing notes to Kiana the last few weeks. Lionel’s desk was on the delivery route. Lionel tossed it on her desk and looked back at his book.

  Kiana read the note and crumbled it in her fist.

  “Who wants to map out the first area?” Ghaboor said.

  Lionel ran his finger across the page of his book. He kept still.

  “Yes, Mr. Marco,” Ghaboor said.

  This sounded like it could go on for a good five minutes. He pictured the video game he’d been playing. He was having trouble getting past one section. Skeletons and an ogre attacked a ranger. He had to polish off the skeletons, waste the ogre with his machine gun, and get into the forest before the vultures poured out of the valley and ripped the ranger apart. If that wasn’t enough, his controller had started jamming. He needed a new one.

  Another note landed on Lionel’s desk. Ghaboor’s head shot towards him. Lionel put his book on top of the note and began rifling through the pages, as if he was looking something up. Ghaboor looked away. Close call. Nick would kill him if Ghaboor saw the note.

  “Thanks, Mr. Marco. Excellent. Let’s move on to question two,” Ghaboor said.

  Another note arrived. Lionel wanted to scream. Nick and Kiana were driving him crazy. He waited until Ghaboor turned to the board and he tossed it over.

  Kiana took a deep breath. She read the note, scribbled something quickly, folded it, and gave it back. Ghaboor was still facing the board. Lionel figured it was safer to toss it directly to Nick. He’d done it before. Lionel backhanded it with his left hand. It hit the side of Nick’s desk and fell. Nick scooped it up.

  “Mr. Nick, are you the janitor now?”

  Nick laughed. “Sorry, Mr. Ghaboor, I dropped something.”

  “Indeed, you did. What was it?”

  “Nothing … a piece of paper.”

  “What was the paper about?”

  “Nothing … math.”

  “Math? On a little piece of paper. Most interesting. May I see it?”

  Ghaboor began to walk between the desks. Lionel shot a look at Kiana. Her entire body was tense and she gripped the edge of the desk. Ghaboor held his hand out. Nick gave the note to him.

  “Hmm. I have no objection to two students going to … Pearl’s.” Ghaboor looked at Kiana. The rest of the class was giggling. “But please make arrangements after my class, and please resist the temptation to pass notes. You’re in grade eight, not kindergarten.”

  Ghaboor gave the note back to Kiana. She didn’t touch it. She continued to stare straight ahead. Lionel felt bad for her. She was a top student, always getting As and answering questions. She never got in trouble, not like Nick.

  “Okay, let us proceed to the second question. Who would like to answer?” Ghaboor looked around the class.

  Lionel picked up his book again.

  “Mr. Lionel, I haven’t heard from you in a while,” Ghaboor said.

  Of course, they’d love that.

  He shook his head.

  “Would you at least try?”

  Lionel didn’t respond. He stopped all thoughts, like his body was separate from his mind, floating, watching from a distance. Th
is would be over soon.

  Ghaboor sighed. “Okay, anyone else? Yes, Ms. Tina.”

  The girl next to him tossed a note onto his desk. He put it under his book.

  A foot hit him in the thigh. Nick glared at him and he nodded at Kiana. Ghaboor turned to the board to check Tina’s work. Nick kicked him again.

  “Do it,” Nick hissed.

  Lionel tossed the note onto Kiana’s desk.

  “Nice throw, blubber-butt,” Nick whispered.

  Lionel didn’t bother with his book. Ghaboor wouldn’t call him again. Teachers never double-call a kid who refuses to answer the first question. Lionel had figured out way back that they don’t bother with dumb kids too often. He noticed Kiana open the note. This time she shoved it in her pocket. Lionel turned ever so slightly to his left. Nick was frowning.

  Nick kicked him again.

  “Thanks, jerk,” Nick whispered. “Learn to throw.”

  Lionel shifted his legs so Nick couldn’t reach him. He’d have to skip school tomorrow. He was too much on Nick’s radar. In a day or two, if he played his cards right, Nick would forget about him and move on to someone else — or back to Stephane and Jaime. His back was sweaty again. This headache was officially out of control, too. He had to go home. He couldn’t get through the day. He’d go to Mrs. Dempsey and hope Ryder wasn’t there — Ryder would just give him an aspirin and tell him to get to class. He had to go home.

  “Excellent, Tina,” Ghaboor said. “Well done. Everyone turn to question seven. I want to go over surface area.”

  Lionel looked at the clock. Another twenty-five minutes — more like twenty-five hours — and this was only Wednesday. If he skipped tomorrow, it wouldn’t be bad. Maybe he could even scam Friday off. It all depended on Ryder. He couldn’t let her call his mom. Not his fault school sucked so much — or that his chest hurt all the time. He hated taking those anxiety pills, though. They made him tired and he felt spaced out. The pain was better. Probably something wrong with his head.

  His mom had promised to order in pizza tonight from Big Ray’s. He’d get the Italian sausage with a Vanilla Coke. Nick kicked him again.