Page 9 of The Naughty Professor
“I made tuna noodle surprise,” she announced.“You need to eat something before you keel over.”
The “surprise” was always what she threw into the mix—peas, cornflakes, occasionally a can of mushrooms if she was feeling fancy.My stomach already twisted at the thought, but I’d eat anything she put in front of me.She’d raised me from the time I was an infant, after all.
I trudged up to the porch and hugged her, breathing in the familiar scent of lilacs and laundry soap.
“I’ll eat after I finish the lawn,” I mumbled.
She squinted.“What?I can’t hear a thing through that silly contraption.You sound like Darth Vader.”
I tugged the mask down and repeated myself.She nodded, satisfied, and went back inside, the door swinging behind her.
Back at the shed, I grabbed the gas can—dented, rusty, and probably a fire hazard—and started the two-block walk to the station.I was halfway there when I spotted him: a boy sitting on the curb, knees pulled up to his chest, his face blotchy from crying.There was a paperback book torn to shreds next to him.
Who the hell does that to a book?It couldn’t have been him, or he wouldn’t be crying.
My gut twisted because I knew exactly how it felt to sit like that, trying to make yourself small while the world kicked you around.But what was I supposed to do?If I stopped, would he think I was some creep trying to lure him into a van I didn’t even own?
I slowed for a second, words fumbling around in my head, but nothing came out.Finally, I kept walking, guilt chewing at me with every step.
The gas station sat on the corner.I filled the can, the gas fumes rising thick in the air, then carried it inside to pay.
A group of boys crowded the counter.They were all elbows and laughter, with the energy that came from knowing you were safe in a pack.
“Man, you showed Josh!”one of them crowed, punching the smallest in the arm.“He’s such a loser.”
“Seriously,” another chimed in.“He’s always got his nose in a book.Like, dude, read this—” The boy held up his middle finger and everyone laughed.
The words hit me like a punch in the gut.And I knew exactly who the poor kid was.
Geek.Loser.Always with his head in a book.I’d heard every one of those before, back when I was the skinny kid with allergies who couldn’t catch a ball to save his life.I’d been the easy target, the one who stayed quiet because I knew speaking up would just make it worse.
My throat tightened, and for a moment I wasn’t thirty-five anymore.I was nine, standing on the playground while a group of boys circled me, chanting names that burned hotter than the sun overhead.
I gripped the handle of the gas can, knuckles whitening.
“Let’s get some chocolate,” one of them said, and the others crowded closer to the display, hands hovering over Snickers and Milky Ways like they were vultures about to snatch up their next meal.
Anger rose fast, sharp, hotter than it should have.They were laughing, teasing each other about who’d made Josh cry harder, and every word dug under my skin.
Before I could stop myself, I stepped forward.My boots thudded against the tile as I pushed between them and the display.The boys blinked up at me, mouths open, as I reached out and started grabbing.Snickers, Twix, Hershey’s, KitKats—every damn bar on the rack.I dumped them all onto the counter with a satisfying smack.
“Uh—sir?”the cashier asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Put it all on the card,” I said, fishing my credit card from my wallet.My voice was calm, but I could feel the grin stretching across my face.
The boys stared.One of them—tallest of the group, clearly their ringleader—cleared his throat and asked, “Hey, could you maybe leave a couple for us?”
I turned to him, still grinning.“Nope.My friend down the street’s in the mood for chocolate.”
The cashier snorted and started scanning, sliding the pile into a big plastic bag.The crinkle of the wrappers was the sweetest sound I’d heard all day.
The boys just stood there, slack-jawed, as I paid for the candy bars and my gas, hefted the bag onto my shoulder, and headed for the door.Their laughter had died, replaced by stunned silence.
On the walk back, I saw the little boy by the curb, picking up scraps of paper from the destroyed paperback.His eyes were red, his cheeks streaked, and he didn’t even look up when I approached.I slowed just enough to let the bag drop beside him.He glanced up at me, swiping at his eyes.
“Enjoy.”
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