I Funny: A Middle School Story Read online

  Then Mr. Dwight was hauling us off each other, and Mom was pulling me away from Miller. We were both still yelling and screaming—I don’t even remember what I said, but I probably couldn’t put it in this book, anyway. My shirt was ripped down the front, I felt like I was going to throw up, and I was still bleeding.

  But I couldn’t help noticing that I was also still alive. I was in bigger trouble than ever now, if that was even possible, but I’d just survived Miller, kind of the way I’d survived most of sixth grade—a little beat up (okay, a lot beat up) and not exactly a winner, but still standing. That’s more than anyone in the whole school probably would have expected from me. Including me.

  So I’ll take it.

  THE BIG E

  Well, if it wasn’t settled already, it is now,” Mr. Dwight told us. “Rafe, you’re being expelled from Hills Village Middle School for the rest of the year.”

  I wasn’t too surprised but, still, I couldn’t even look at Mom. She probably wanted to finish what Miller had started and kill me right now.

  We were sitting in Mr. Dwight’s office, along with Mrs. Stricker. I had an ice pack on my nose and a safety pin to keep my shirt closed. I felt kind of numb, in more than one way.

  “Rafe can continue to get his assignments and work on them at home,” Mr. Dwight was telling Mom. “And, of course, you can reenroll him in sixth grade in the fall.”

  It just kept getting worse… and worse….

  Then Mr. Dwight’s phone buzzed. He picked it up.

  “Yes?” he said, and then, “Tell her we’re in a parent meeting.”

  But a second later, the door opened anyway, and Ms. Donatello was there.

  “I’ll make it quick,” she said. “I understand this is a private conference, but I’d like to offer one suggestion on Rafe’s behalf, if it’s all right.”

  Everyone looked at Mom now, including me.

  “Please do,” Mom said, and Donatello came in.

  “I was going to bring this up later in the quarter, but now seems to be the time,” she said. She put a brochure on Mr. Dwight’s desk where everyone could see it.

  Dwight and Stricker didn’t say anything. Mom picked up the brochure.

  “Airbrook could be a perfect environment for Rafe,” Donatello said, and then she looked right at me. “You’d have to take a longer bus ride, but I think you might like it there. The school is a combination of visual arts and academics, for nontraditional learners.”

  “What, like special ed?” I said.

  “No,” Donatello said. “It’s a school for artists.”

  Now I started to get interested.

  “Excuse me,” Mrs. Stricker said. “Rafe is being expelled. Are you suggesting he should be rewarded for his behavior?”

  “Not at all,” Donatello said. “But I am saying that Rafe has talent. I’ve seen it all year long.”

  That was a first. I can’t remember anyone using the words Rafe and talent in the same sentence before.

  “What about his grades?” Mom said. I was looking over her shoulder at the brochure, and there were pictures of kids standing at easels and making sculptures and some stuff I didn’t even know what it was.

  “There’s no question we’d have to work a bit on the academics,” Donatello said. “But again, Airbrook is for students at all levels. If Rafe’s portfolio shows promise, we might even be able to get him a needs-based scholarship.”

  “Portfolio?” I said.

  “A collection of your artwork,” Donatello said. “So they can evaluate your potential.”

  I was getting more excited by the second. Right now, things were looking

  better than I’d ever thought they could.

  That is, until Mom opened her purse, reached inside, and took out Miller’s little gift package from the day before.

  “I wasn’t sure if I needed to bring this up or not,” Mom said. “But I think now maybe I should.”

  That’s when I knew it was all over for me.

  MOM ISN’T FINISHED

  A minute later, the copies of my notebook were spread all over Mr. Dwight’s desk. It was all right there—the rules for Operation R.A.F.E., every school regulation I’d broken, and all those stupid pictures Leo and I had drawn along the way. Now everyone could see exactly how much of a juvenile delinquent I was. I just stared at the floor.

  “Well, this explains a thing or two,” Mrs. Stricker said, and I could feel that art school slipping right through my fingers.

  “Actually,” Mom said, “that’s not really my point.”

  I looked up.

  “Yes,” Donatello said. “I see where you’re going with this. We’ve got the beginnings of a portfolio right here. Rafe, some of these sketches are just so you.”

  Say what?

  I wasn’t even sure what Donatello meant, but it seemed like a good thing.

  “Mrs. Khatchadorian,” Mr. Dwight said, “you’re obviously welcome to enroll Rafe wherever you like, but it’s important that he understands the gravity of his actions here.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Mom said. “And believe me, there are going to be consequences.”

  I could hardly stand it anymore. Where was this thing going to land?

  “But you see, I’ve always known that Rafe is an artist at heart,” Mom said. “It’s in his blood. In fact, he’s named for the great Rafael Sanzio of Urbino. I named all of my children after artists I admire. Rafe’s sister is named for Georgia O’Keeffe.”

  “Nice choices,” Donatello said, smiling.

  “And,” Mom said, “Rafe also had a twin brother.”

  Now I just wanted her to stop talking, but of course she didn’t. She kept going.

  “His name was Leonardo,” she said.

  “For Leonardo da Vinci?” Donatello asked.

  “That’s right. Unfortunately, Leo died very young,” Mom said. “He got sick with meningitis when the boys were just three, and we lost him.”

  Donatello put a hand on Mom’s shoulder. Mr. Dwight and Mrs. Stricker looked like they didn’t know what to say.

  “It was a long time ago,” Mom said, looking at me now. “But even so, Leo’s still with us in spirit. Isn’t that right, Rafe?”

  I just nodded. It was true, after all.

  And I guess I owe you an explanation.

  AN EXPLANATION

  You’re probably thinking HANG ON A SECOND—all these chapters, and all these pages, and he’s just now getting around to telling me that this Leo guy was actually his brother?

  And I guess the short answer is—yes, that’s what I’m telling you. And no, I’m not crazy. I’m okay. Really. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it at all, but I figured if you’ve stuck with me this far, you deserve to know the whole truth.

  I don’t remember that much from when Leo was around. His hair was lighter than mine, and he was—let’s face it—kind of pudgy. In all the old pictures, it’s like there’s one and a half of him next to one of me. But we were both pretty little when he died. I just remember it got really quiet around the house, and my grandmother came to stay with us.

  Then somewhere along the way, I started imagining what it would be like if Leo was still around. And it just kept going from there.

  For the record, I’m not saying Leo’s always going to be there, like he has been so far. Maybe I’ll outgrow him. Or maybe I’ll even find a real human best friend someday—who knows? If that happens, I’m pretty sure Leo wouldn’t mind. He’ll always be my brother, and that’s no matter what.

  In the meantime, I like things the way they are. Maybe that makes me weird. Maybe it’s even part of what makes me an “artist,” like Mom said, but it just kind of works for me this way….

  Well, except for the part about how I got into all this trouble and was about to get expelled. I know, I know—I’m working on it. Just turn the page and keep reading.

  THE BIG CATCH

  Now that Mom had told Mr. Dwight and Mrs. Stricker everything there was to tell, they all
kind of sat there looking at each other.

  “So, anyway,” Mom said, holding up the Airbrook Arts brochure, “if there’s anything I can do to help make this happen, I want to do it.” She put the brochure back on Mr. Dwight’s desk, kind of like the ball was in his court now.

  “Mrs. Khatchadorian, first of all let me say how sorry I am for your loss,” Mr. Dwight said.

  “We both are,” Mrs. Stricker said, and she even looked like she meant it.

  “Thank you,” Mom said. “Now, as for Rafe—”

  “May I make one more suggestion?” Ms. Donatello cut in.

  Everyone looked over at her. So far, she’d been on my side, so I definitely wanted to hear what she had to say.

  “Let Rafe’s expulsion stand,” Donatello said. “Keep him out of school for the quarter, but then let him enroll for a full schedule of classes in the summer session.”

  There it was—the big catch.

  Summer school!

  I knew there had to be something.

  “I can work with Rafe,” Donatello said. “On academics as well as the portfolio, and we can see how it goes.”

  “Rafe?” Mr. Dwight said. “What do you have to say about all this?”

  All of a sudden, everyone was looking at me, and nobody else was talking. Here was my chance to say something smart.

  “I don’t want to go to summer school,” I said.

  “WHAT?” Mom said.

  Mrs. Stricker smiled a little.

  Donatello looked like she’d just been totally shot down.

  “But I’ll do it,” I said, right to Mr. Dwight. “If you’ll let me.”

  He and Mrs. Stricker kept looking at each other. I wasn’t sure if I’d convinced them, but then I thought of one more thing to say.

  “Maybe I could do a real mural too,” I said. “With paint and everything. Something for the school, like, to say I’m sorry.”

  “Actually,” Ms. Donatello said, “a project like that could make an excellent part of the application to Airbrook.” She looked over at Dwight and Stricker. “That is, if we move ahead with this, of course.”

  At first, nobody else said anything. Then, finally, Mrs. Stricker kind of shrugged, and Mr. Dwight spoke up.

  “It would have to be something appropriate. We’d need to see sketches before any paint goes on any walls.”

  “No problem,” I said.

  “And none of this can start until the summer session,” Dwight said.

  “And even then,” Stricker said, “if we see any kind of behavioral issues—”

  “You won’t,” Mom said, squeezing my hand. “Right, Rafe?”

  “Right,” I said, and tried to smile like I meant it.

  Actually, I had no idea if I could pull this off. Not the mural, not the classes, not even my “behavior.” But it was worth a shot if it meant trading Hills Village in for art school—art school!—in the fall. Maybe even as a seventh grader.

  Besides, if nothing else, I figured I owed it to Mom—and to Leo the Silent, and Donatello the Dragon Lady, and yes, even Jeanne Galletta—to at least try this crazy plan.

  WHAT HAPPENED NEXT

  So that pretty much brings us up to the present. I’m still expelled. The school year’s not over yet. And believe me, it’s no more fun being out of school than it was being in school. Mom made sure of that.

  But first, let me tell you the good parts.

  About a week after all this happened, Bear came to the house while Mom was at work and got his stuff. He’s officially moved out now. He even forgot his own secret stash of Zoom, which I’ve moved to a new hiding place that I’m not even going to tell you about.

  Meanwhile, Mom just works breakfast and lunch at the diner, so she’s home every night. She’s been making dinner for us ever since, and she’s a way better cook than me, Georgia, and Bear combined.

  Also, after I got expelled, Jeanne Galletta actually called me at home to make sure I was okay. I told her I was fine, but I didn’t know if I was going to be back at Hills Village in the fall. Then she said, well, maybe we should go see a movie this summer, my treat, and I told her I’d think about it. (Okay, you can probably figure out which part of that isn’t true, but it can’t hurt to dream, right?)

  And now for the not-so-good stuff.

  Mom doesn’t let me stay home alone, so every school day for the last six weeks, I’ve been coming here to Swifty’s Diner. Swifty let us set up a folding table in the storage room, where I sit on my pickle tub and work on my school assignments (which seems crazy, since I’m expelled, but tell that to my mother).

  I also spend an hour a day washing dishes, or sweeping, or cleaning up around the restaurant. Swifty calls it my “room and board,” and it gets me a free lunch every day (eight dollars or less), which isn’t too bad.

  At first I didn’t think I was going to make it. Even with the homework and the cleaning job, there was still a lot of just sitting around, staring at the walls and waiting for summer school (boooo!) to start. I’d never been so bored in my life.

  But then I got another idea. One of my big ones, like Operation R.A.F.E. Except, this mission wasn’t a game. It was more like a special project to help me pass the time.

  And guess what?

  You just finished reading it.

  About the Authors

  JAMES PATTERSON was selected by kids across America as the Children’s Choice Book Awards Author of the Year in 2010. He is the internationally bestselling author of the highly praised Maximum Ride novels, the Witch & Wizard series, the Daniel X series, Med Head, and the detective series featuring Alex Cross. He lives in Florida.

  CHRIS TEBBETTS is the author of several books for young readers, including The Viking, a fantasy-adventure series.

  LAURA PARK, a cartoonist and an illustrator, drew the pictures for this book. She lives in Chicago with her pet pigeon.

  Contents

  FRONT COVER IMAGE

  WELCOME

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER 1: I’M RAFE KHATCHADORIAN, TRAGIC HERO

  CHAPTER 2: THE MIDDLE SCHOOL/MAX SECURITY PRISON

  CHAPTER 3: AT LEAST I’VE GOT LEO

  CHAPTER 4: RAH, RAH, RAH, YADA, YADA, YADA…

  CHAPTER 5: THOSE OH-SO-CRUEL RULES

  CHAPTER 6: EUREKA!

  CHAPTER 7: CHAOS

  CHAPTER 8: MY HOME PAGE

  CHAPTER 9: CHECK THIS OUT

  CHAPTER 10: CHECK THIS OUT, PART II

  CHAPTER 11: GEORGIA ON MY NERVES

  CHAPTER 12: SO THIS IS WHAT MOTIVATION FEELS LIKE!

  CHAPTER 13: OFF AND RUNNING

  CHAPTER 14: RULES WERE MADE FOR BREAKING

  CHAPTER 15: WRITE AND WRONG

  CHAPTER 16: THIN ICE IS BETTER THAN NO ICE AT ALL

  CHAPTER 17: NEW RULE

  CHAPTER 18: TEACHERS WANT TO BREAK ME, BUT I DON’T BREAK

  CHAPTER 19: APPLE PIE AND CINNAMON

  CHAPTER 20: MILLER THE KILLER RUINS DETENTION DAY

  CHAPTER 21: MORE BAD NEWS

  CHAPTER 22: AND TO TOP IT OFF…

  CHAPTER 23: WHAT’S THE POINT, ANYWAY?

  CHAPTER 24: I’LL TAKE THE DRAGON LADY OVER THE BEAR ANY DAY

  CHAPTER 25: TIME OUT…

  CHAPTER 26: REVENGE FOR SALE

  CHAPTER 27: CRACKING THE DRESS CODE

  CHAPTER 28: KICKIN’ IT, DUNGEON-STYLE

  CHAPTER 29: HIS MAJESTY, THE LIZARD KING

  CHAPTER 30: WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL?

  CHAPTER 31: DINNER FOR THREE AT SWIFTY’S DINER

  CHAPTER 32: SCUM

  CHAPTER 33: HOW HARD COULD IT BE?

  CHAPTER 34: NORMAL

  CHAPTER 35: MILLER STRIKES AGAIN

  CHAPTER 36: WHAT NOW?

  CHAPTER 37: BUSTED!

  CHAPTER 38: THE DARK AGES

  CHAPTER 39: JEANNE, JEANNE, JEANNE

  CHAPTER 40: CHARITY CASE

  CHAPTER 41: REPORT CARD TIME—ALL A’S—YAY!

  CHAPTER 42: HO, HO, HO

  CHAPTER
43: SHORT AND SWEET, BUT MOSTLY JUST SHORT

  CHAPTER 44: LOST AND FOUND

  CHAPTER 45: FIRST-DAY-BACK BLUES

  CHAPTER 46: DOING TIME WITH SERGEANT STRICKER

  CHAPTER 47: DOWN THE DRAIN

  CHAPTER 48: YOU TELL ME

  CHAPTER 49: COPYCAT

  CHAPTER 50: IT WAS WORTH A SHOT, ANYWAY

  CHAPTER 51: TWO TO TUTOR

  CHAPTER 52: PLAY-BY-PLAY

  CHAPTER 53: TUESDAYS AND THURSDAYS

  CHAPTER 54: SPECIAL ASSIGNMENT

  CHAPTER 55: IS IT STILL BULLYING IF YOU’RE BULLYING THE BULLY?

  CHAPTER 56: TEN PAGES AND A LIE

  CHAPTER 57: INTO THE HOMESTRETCH