Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [90]
“Oh, Josh Josh Josh,” I said sweetly. “You think that nobody here knows what you’re doing. But you’re wrong.”
For the first time, the sheen wore off Josh’s performance. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Everyone knows I’m deaf, Josh. They know I’m reading your lips,” I continued, even though I realized this was probably news to at least half the people there. “So stop trying to humiliate me. I’m not disabled, Josh, and trying to make out that I am just makes you look like an even bigger jerk than usual.”
I waited for the witty comeback, the one-liner that ended the faceoff in Josh’s favor. I knew it was coming, but as Josh looked around, I think he saw in everyone’s faces the same look I saw: a mixture of sadness and disgust. All of them were muttering, and even though I couldn’t hear a word, I knew that every one of them was ripping Josh, not me.
Josh turned on his heel and stormed off, and for a moment I wondered if he’d just quit the band. But then I felt Belson’s hand on my shoulder, and he was pointing in the direction of his office. Amazing—after Finn’s tireless efforts to break every rule in the book, I’d still be the first Vaughan ever hauled into Belson’s office. It took me twenty-eight steps to get there, plenty of time to wonder how my parents would respond to yet another disciplining.
Once we were inside and the door was shut, Belson lowered himself gingerly onto his ratty black chair. “Your hair is pink,” he said, like he’d only just put his finger on what was different about me.
I nodded.
“Ed told me he’s leaving the chess club.”
I nodded again. “I told him he should.”
Belson heaved a sigh. “May I ask why? It’s not as if we’re inundated with members.”
“He was only in it because he had a crush on me. He’s actually a terrible player. So I figured we should just date, and then he could stop pretending he had any interest in chess.”
Belson’s eyebrows seemed to have taken up permanent residence along his hairline. “I see.” And then he smiled, and laughed, and I was utterly confused. “You know, Piper, I’ve always thought of chess as a form of civilized combat. It allows even the most peaceful folk to unleash their inner dictator. It’s a game that rewards the more aggressive player, the one who outwits the other. And then, when the game is over, we can go back to being polite, and meek, and shy.” He paused, tapping his finger against his cheek. “But I’ve also wondered if it wouldn’t just be better for us to unleash those inner demons for real, you know?”
I shook my head.
“Oh, I think you do. Ever since you arrived at this school you’ve been the most calculating, conniving, and generally vicious chess player I’ve ever met. But away from the chessboard, everyone has walked all over you. Now something’s changed.”
I looked down at my hands. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like what he said next.
Belson waited for me to look up again. “I appreciate good students, Piper. I like it when they’re polite, and prompt, and attentive. But I also like it when the best students finally catch on to the fact that they really are better than the poor students . . . when they realize they need to stop hiding out, hoping no one notices them. What I’m saying is: What took you so long?”
Suddenly he was smirking, and it dawned on me there would be no detentions given out today. And because he couldn’t seem to stop smirking, I had time to work something else out too.
“You didn’t tell the principal we were playing in the parking lot, did you.”
The smirking stopped, but the eyes kept twinkling. “He’s a hard man to find at the best of times.”
I nodded appreciatively. “Thank you. And thank you for finding us before any of the other teachers did.”
Belson rubbed his chin. “Well, as long as I was there, it saved anyone else from having to discipline you. Believe me, no teacher wants to give up their lunch break arguing with the second coming of Kurt Cobain.”
I felt like he’d paid me the