It first happened while I was talking to my friend Peter before classes started.
“Did you finish your homework for Biology?” Peter asked.
“Did we have homework in Biology?” I replied. Obviously, there had been homework. Not doing it wasn't anything new for me.
“I was reading How to Play Chess and Win all night,” I told Peter. “I'm going to beat Tyrone if it's the last thing I do.”
“You will never beat Tyrone,” said Peter. “He's too good.”
Nice friend to have, I thought. He really has faith in me.
Tyrone was the president of the chess club, and no one had ever beaten him. But I was going to change that. Since I was not a football star, I figured that becoming the school chess champion at least once was going to be my only claim to fame. So, I’d spent all night reading my chess book instead of doing my Biology homework.
“Oww!” Someone flicked my ear. I didn't have to turn around to know it was Tom. He and I were both freshmen, but since he was about twice my size, he picked on me all the time. Nothing new there either—everyone picked on me. They told me anyone with ears that stuck out like mine, had a skinny long neck, and never combed his hair deserved to be picked on. It was super annoying. I couldn't help how I looked.
“Stop it,” I said.
“Stop it,” mimicked Tom as he walked by. He must have had better things to do than stay around and continue to torment me.
I shook my head at his back and sighed. “Someday Tom is going to get what's coming to him,” I told Peter.
“Right,” replied Peter. “I won't hold my breath.” Peter was an average short kid. Maybe that's why he didn't seem to get noticed by the other students. His hair was average length and brown in color, his eyes were the usual blue, and he was an average weight for a short kid, neither skinny nor fat. He was just average!
I showed Peter the check I’d gotten for mowing a lawn. I was saving up so I could go to Spring Formal this year. “You need a date to go to the dance,” Peter reminded me with a pointed look. He was always doing that: shooting me down. He called it “keeping my feet on the ground.”
“Yeah, well, I know ladies who will be dying to go out with me once they see me in a tuxedo,” I replied.
Then he did it again: grounded my feet.
“Yeah, like who?” Peter goaded.
“Maybe Lisa.”
“Lisa? A senior?”
He was right. Lisa was a senior, and she already had a boyfriend, Austin. And Austin would punch my lights out if I asked her. In fact, Austin would punch my lights out even if he caught me just looking at Lisa, but I looked anyway.
“Why don't you ask Nellie?” Peter suggested. He was always looking out for me, even when it came to finding me a date.
“But Nellie's only a freshman,” I whined.
“Maybe so, but she’s also the only girl who ever talks to you. Who knows, maybe she likes you?”
He did have a point. Personally, I preferred older women. But of course, there was a little problem with my preferences: older women didn’t seem to like me.
“Hi, Lester.”
I whirled around. It was Nellie and her friend, Abbey. They were always creeping up on me.
Nellie and Abbey had the same relationship that Peter and I had. They were best friends, but they were very different. Abbey was semi-popular and on the JV cheerleading squad. She wasn't a straight-A student, but she was still high in her class.
Nellie, on the other hand, thought of grades all the time. She was a straight-A student and what most people would call a nerd. Of course, that's what they said about me too, but I wasn't a straight-A nerd. In fact, I wasn't even a straight-C nerd. My priorities lived elsewhere.
Nellie was also a fan of mysteries and detective novels.
“I hear there's a big chess game coming up,” Nellie said.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“And the talk around school is that you plan on winning the match,” said Nellie.
Wow, students are talking about me! I wondered if Lisa knew that I was a great chess player; after all, I’d spent all night reading How to Play Chess and Win. I thought maybe I should tell her, but then that would be bragging, and I’d heard girls didn’t like it when guys bragged.
“We'd love to come and watch,” Nellie offered.
“We would?” questioned Abbey. It was obvious she didn't have the same excitement for chess as Nellie. Nellie gave her an elbow. “I mean, why not? I haven't been getting enough sleep lately,” Abbey said, rubbing her side.
I yawned. This talk about sleep reminded me that I didn't get much last night.
“When is the big match?” Nellie asked.
“Tomorrow at noon,” I replied. “I'll let you know where.”
“That would be wonderful!” she exclaimed.
“Come on, Nellie,” moaned Abbey. “I think I'm going to be sick.” Then, she pulled Nellie into the girls’ bathroom. Why do girls always go to the bathroom in groups?
“See what I mean?” Peter pointed out. “She likes you.”
“She does not. She just likes watching chess,” I argued back.
Peter snorted. “No one likes watching chess.”
Even though I agreed, I would never admit to that. The future Chess Champion couldn't admit to something like that.
“I don't think many people will come and watch the chess match,” remarked Peter.
“You heard what Nellie said. People are talking about it all over school.”
“I think she was making that up to impress you.”
“I think she just likes chess,” I repeated. “I wonder if Lisa will be there.”
“Are you kidding? Lisa won't be anywhere near the match.” Peter was doing it again: keeping me grounded.
“Maybe if I tell her I'm in the match, she'll come,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders. I knew what Peter was going to say before he even opened his mouth.
“She doesn't even pay attention to you when she passes you in the hall,” he declared. “Why would she come to watch you in a chess match?”
“I have an idea,” I said as I snapped my fingers. “I'll send her an invitation.”
That's when it happened.
Peter didn’t answer. I thought he was just zoning out on me again, but when I looked at him, he was frozen solid. I snapped my fingers in front of his face, and he came back to life.
“Peter? Peter?” I questioned. “Quit daydreaming.”
“Daydreaming?” Peter frowned. “I wasn't daydreaming.”
“You were just staring off into space while I was talking. That’s rude.”
“I wasn’t daydreaming,” he repeated, shaking his head.
But I'd daydreamed enough to know daydreaming when I saw it.
“Don't look now,” whispered Peter, “but there's Lisa and Austin.”
Now, when someone says not to look, a person just has to look. So, I looked. Lisa and Austin were holding hands, and Austin was looking down the hall in my direction. He saw me looking. I knew that looking at Lisa was a dangerous activity for me, but when you see a girl as beautiful as Lisa, your self-preservation goes by the wayside. Lisa had long blonde hair that hung straight down on each side of her slender face. Her lips were thin, and her eyes a sky blue. She was what most people call skinny, but I called it “just right.” She was my perfect woman!
“I said don't look,” repeated Peter. He grabbed my shirt and turned me around.
The thump of Austin's footsteps came closer. My heart began to pound in my chest. Running was out of the question; Austin was on the football team. Chess didn't exactly get me in shape to run from bullies.
“What were you looking at?”
I was afraid to turn and look Austin in the face, but he grabbed my shoulder, whipping me around.
“I said, what were you looking at?”
I looked up at Austin. His shoulders were wide, and his muscles seemed to pop out as he moved. Why are football players so big?
“Nothing, nothing at all,” mumbled Peter.
Thanks, Peter, I thought, but he doesn't want to pick on the “average” kids, just the ones who stared at his girl!
“I’m not talking to you,” Austin told Peter. Peter stepped back, a good move to save his own life. But what about mine?
“What was I looking at?” I always repeated the question when I didn’t know an answer, and in this case, I didn't know the answer that would keep me alive.
“You were looking at my girl, weren't you?” asked Austin.
“What girl?” This was another one of my diversionary tactics: act dumb.
“Come on, Austin,” said Lisa. “Leave him alone.”
“Not until I teach him a lesson,” explained Austin.
“Lesson?” I whimpered. “But school hasn't started yet.” I thought maybe a little humor would help. It didn't. Austin grabbed me by the collar and made me a few inches taller.
“If I catch you looking at my girl again, time will stop for you,” said Austin with a sneer. “Do you understand?”
“I think I understand quite well.” There was pleading in my voice.
“I think you need some time to study my lesson,” said Austin. At first, I didn't know what he was talking about, but then I noticed my open locker and, well, I think you can guess what happened.
“What are you doing?” I asked, even though I knew. Where was a teacher when I needed one?
“I'm giving you your very own private study hall,” explained Austin. Then he crammed me into my locker. I made a mental note to myself never to leave my locker open when Austin was nearby.
The door closed, shutting me in darkness.
“What are you looking at?” I heard Austin say.
“Nothing,” uttered Peter.
“Then split.” I could hear Peter scamper down the hall.
“You aren't going to leave him in there, are you?” came Lisa’s slightly muffled voice from outside my cramped quarters.
“I sure am,” said Austin.
And then I heard nothing. You have no idea how dark it got in that locker, even with those air vents at the top. I really felt alone.
“Hello?” I called. “Is anyone out there?” No one replied. I panicked. Banging on the door, I yelled again. “Help! Let me out of here!”
Calm down, I told myself. You’re not going to die… I hoped!
When you are in a place like a dark, confined locker, time goes by slowly. Very slowly. I knew Peter would come for me, but Austin had to be clear of the area before he would. Peter wasn't that brave. It seemed like hours later, but finally, footsteps approached.
“Lester? Lester, are you in there?” It was Peter.
“Peter, what took you so long?”
“I came as soon as I could. What's your combination?”
“It's ten, twenty-three, four. Hurry up! Rigor mortis is setting in.” Of course, it took Peter three tries before the door finally opened and I could breathe. “I’ve been in there for hours.”
“Try about three minutes,” Peter informed me.
“That Austin,” I growled, clenching my fists. “Someday, I'm really going to give it to him. Someday, people are going to treat me with a little more respect.”
“Right,” Peter stated. “We better get to first period.”
“I mean it,” I said. “Someday, when I snap my fingers, people are going to pay attention to me.” I snapped my fingers for emphasis. “They are going to know that Lester Lopkins is someone you don't mess with. I think I will just go up to Austin and demand an apology. That's what I'll do, and I'll take you as reinforcement.” I looked at Peter and there he was again, frozen, daydreaming.
That was the second time it happened.
“Peter!” I snapped my fingers in front of his face. This time he jerked back. “Quit daydreaming.”
“Daydreaming?” he asked, his brow furrowing again. “I was not daydreaming. And keep your fingers out of my face.”
“Then let's go.”
“Go where?”
Now I knew Peter had been daydreaming instead of listening to me.
“Didn't you hear a word that I said?” I asked. Peter looked dumbfounded. “I said, let's go and demand an apology from Austin.”
“What?” From the look on Peter's face, this was the first time he’d actually heard my plan. “I'm not going anywhere!” he fussed. “Especially anywhere near Austin. What do you have, a death wish?”
Maybe it was a good thing Tyrone came down the hall right then. I think I had myself so worked up that I might have gone to find Austin. Then who knows if I would have lived to see another day?
“The chess match is on for tomorrow, lunch, right here,” explained Tyrone. I didn't get a hello. The look on my face must’ve scared him.
“Where?” I asked.
“Right here in the hallway.”
“In the hallway?”
“Yes, I convinced Mrs. Benchley to allow us to have it in the hallway so we could get more exposure and have a few more spectators this time,” explained Tyrone.
“One more spectator would be double what you had last time,” said Peter, trying to be funny. No one laughed.
“Don't you think the hallway is a little too noisy at lunch for a game of chess?” I asked.
“Why? Are you scared I'm going to beat you? Again?” He had to rub it in. He was just trying to make me mad. And it worked.
“No way,” I said through clenched teeth. “I've been studying, and I'm going to beat you this time.”
“Would you like to bet on that?” taunted Tyrone.
Normally, I wasn’t a betting man, since most of the time I lost, but my anger got the best of me.
“Sure! What are you willing to lose?” I snapped.
Tyrone crossed his arms. “How much are you willing to pay me?”
“Pay you? You'll be paying me!”
He rolled his eyes. “In your dreams.” This kind of talk could’ve gone on forever, so I decided to make the first move.
“How about ten dollars?” I thought ten would be a nice round figure. It was also all the money I had.
“Ten dollars?” Tyrone barked. “Doesn't sound as if you have much confidence in yourself.”
“Okay, fifty!” I upped the stakes.
Peter grabbed me and pulled me to the side. “You don't have fifty dollars.”
“So?”
“What if you lose again?” Peter asked.
“I'm not going to lose,” I said. “I’ve been studying.”
“What do you say, Lester?” asked Tyrone. “Is it a bet?”
He held out his hand, and I shook it. “It's a bet.”
“Bring your money tomorrow,” said Tyrone. “I want it in cash.” Then he sauntered down the hall, no doubt on his way to the library to see if they had any books on how to play chess. Too late, I thought with a smirk. I have the only one.
I later found out that Mrs. Benchley—she was our principal—wanted Tyrone to have the chess game in the cafeteria, but Mr. Arbuckle was quite upset the last time we played chess in the cafeteria. I’d eaten my hamburger while we played and ended up getting catsup all over the chess pieces. You always had to put a lot of catsup on the cafeteria's hamburgers; it was the only way to get them down. Tyrone didn't think that Mr. Arbuckle would let us use the chessboard if we were in the cafeteria again. So, it was the hallway. Besides, maybe Lisa would stop by.
“What did you do that for?” Peter asked after Tyrone left.
“What?”
“Make a bet that you can't keep.”
“I'm going to win, so I don't have to worry about paying off the bet,” I told him, trying to muster up as much confidence as I could.
“You're not only going to have Austin after you, but Tyrone as well,” Peter said.
Although I wasn’t the type to take risks, this time I felt that I needed to go out on a limb. Unfortunately, the limb was rather small. But hey, I told myself, you have to risk something to gain something. I was risking my life.
* * *
The next day, Peter met me at my locker, as he always did. I hadn't slept much, thinking about the chess match and the fifty-dollar bet I had made. Yesterday, it had seemed like the right thing to do. Today, I wasn't so sure. I even tried to review my book on chess, but I just couldn't focus on the words. I think it was the fear.
On my way to school, I also saw Austin and Lisa. Then Austin saw me looking. I ducked behind some bushes and ran the long way to school.
“Hey, Peter.”
“Hey, Lester.”
“You look tired,” Peter told me.
“I am,” I replied. “I didn't sleep last night.”
“That could be a problem,” Peter declared. “You have a big chess match today at lunch.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I said.
“And let me remind you that you have a fifty-dollar bet riding on this chess match, and you don't have fifty dollars.” What a friend Peter was, always keeping my feet grounded.
“Thanks for the sunny forecast,” I mumbled through a yawn.
“My pleasure.”
“I wish I could just snap my fingers and make this day go away.” I snapped my fingers.
That's when it happened again. This time I knew something strange had happened. I looked at Peter, and he was motionless. Not like in a daydream or in a daze, but frozen. Frozen as solid as a rock!
