Volunteering in the library

would keep me away from

Marissa and Kortnee in the cafeteria every day,

instead of just when I can slip away.

“I sure am!”

“I just ask that you always have

one display of new releases,

but I trust you to decide the other themes.

A few of the display areas

include bulletin boards.

Can you decorate them, too?”

“I have plenty of ideas, but

I’m not very good at drawing or art.”

“No problem.

I know just the student

to pair with you.”

The next day,

as I gather books about bullies,

in walks one:

Enemy Number 3.

PURE GARBAGE

“A wonderful writer teamed with

an amazing artist.

Together, you two can do great things,”

Mrs. Pochon says,

leaving us alone

to work on the bulletin board

and book display about bullies.

Enemy Number 3

scans the novels I’ve pulled.

“These are all about

people being bullied because

of how they look.

You know, people are bullied

for other reasons, too.

I know a book that’d be good.”

He heads to the stacks and

comes back

to hand me one about a boy

who’s made fun of because

of his family.

I tell him my idea.

“The focal point will be a trash can.

Then we can create

a pocket for blank index cards and

a pocket for index cards with

great quotes from books, such as

‘I’m only different

to the people who see

with the wrong eyes’

from Fish in a Tree.

Then the bulletin board sign can say,

‘Take out the garbage.

Stop junking up your mind with

stinky things bullies have said to you.

Toss them into the trash, then

pick up a good thought

to replace it.’

We could use bright colors,

draw people’s attention.”

“Maybe.”

He stares at the bulletin board.

I know that look.

Viv gets it when she’s brainstorming.

He grabs his sketch pad and

colored pencils,

draws for several minutes, and

then slides the sketch pad over to me.

He’s used black, red, blue, and purple.

He’s really good.

I’m impressed.

“Why those colors?”

“Bruises are purple.

Anger is red.

Sadness is blue.”

“And the black?”

He starts sketching again.

“That’s how you feel inside

when you’ve been bullied.”

I don’t even think

before I speak.

“How would you know

what it feels like to be bullied?

You are a bully.”

His face turns red, as if

I’ve smacked him.

“You’re not the only one

who doesn’t fit in

around here, Splash,”

he mumbles as

he starts drawing and

cutting the construction paper.

Then I get it.

Enemy Number 3’s not just a bully.

People bully him

because he’s poor and

wears raggedy clothes.

But I just don’t understand how

someone who’s bullied

and knows how horrible it feels inside

turns around and bullies others.

That’s pure garbage.

STUFFING

Catalina and I really want to go swimming—