Small Steps - Louis Sachar [22]
“Matt!” Armpit shouted as he charged toward him. “You got fifty cents? I’m desperate, man!”
Matt backed up against a row of lockers as he took his wallet out of his back pocket. “Uh, sure. Here.” He held out a dollar, but it dropped out of his hand before Armpit could take it.
As Armpit bent down to pick it up, Matt sidestepped him and quickly disappeared around the corner.
“I’ll pay you back!” Armpit called after him, but didn’t know if Matt heard him.
He went back to the office, where the secretary gave him four quarters for the dollar, then went to the pay phone and called X-Ray.
“You sell the last two tickets?”
“Not to worry, not to worry,” X-Ray said in a soothing voice.
“Have you sold them!”
“Look, you got to—”
“Yes or no?”
“Not yet, but—”
“Don’t!”
“Wait a second. Who are you, and what have you done with Armpit?”
Armpit told him about Tatiana. “She had her hand on my arm, and with her perfume and everything, I couldn’t think straight.”
“Was she the one I saw you talkin’ to that time? Strange hair, goofy smile?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s pretty cute.”
“I’ll pay you a hundred and thirty-five for the two tickets,” said Armpit. “That woulda been your share if you sold them.”
A hundred and thirty-five seemed like a bargain. He was relieved not to have to pay fifteen hundred.
“Man, that girl’s really gotten to you,” said X-Ray. “Look, they’re your tickets. You don’t have to buy them twice!” He laughed. “That musta been some perfume!”
13
“Well, that’s the way it goes,” Ginny said when Armpit told her that Coo didn’t win. They were taking their daily walk around the block.
“What they should have done,” said Armpit, “is write down all the candidates’ names on a ballot. The problem was nobody remembered any of the speeches.”
“Well, that’s the way it goes,” Ginny said again.
Her face twitched as she said it, and Armpit didn’t know if that was due to her disability or if she was trying not to cry.
“But hey, I got an A on my speech,” he said. “Thanks to Coo.” He smiled. “Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Coach Simmons thinks I’ll be going out for football.”
“Like how Mrs. R-Randsinkle g-gave m-me an A in art,” said Ginny.
Mrs. Randsinkle had been her teacher last year.
“And I c-c-couldn’t even c-c-color inside the l-lines.”
Armpit noticed that Ginny stuttered more when she talked about school.
“Well, you know, art’s not just about coloring in the lines,” said Armpit. “It’s about creativity. Putting your soul on the paper. You’re good at that.”
“No, she just felt sorry for me. She w-w-wished I w-wasn’t in her class. She’s afraid of my s-seizures.”
Armpit would have liked to tell her that wasn’t true, but he knew it probably was. Ginny had enough problems without him telling her she was wrong. “Well, they are kind of scary,” he said. “But I bet there’s a lot she liked about you too. You’re a very thoughtful and caring person.”
Ginny’s arm was raised, but this time she noticed it herself and lowered it.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you! I asked a girl to go to the Kaira DeLeon concert with me.”
Ginny covered her gaping mouth with her hand. From behind it, she asked, “What’d she say?”
“She said yeah.”
Ginny giggled.
“What’s so funny?”
“The w-way y-you l-look.”
“How do I look?”
“All dreamy-eyed.” She giggled some more. “What’s her name?” she asked in a teasing kind of voice.
“Tatiana.”
Ginny giggled.
“What?”
“The way you said it.”
“How did I say it?”
“Tati-ahna.”
“Tatiana,” said Armpit, trying to sound normal.
“Tati-ahna,” said Ginny. “Is she pretty?”
“Yeah, but in a different kind of way. It’s like that Kaira DeLeon song ‘Imperfection’? You know?” He sang: “You reflect on your reflection. But you will never see. Your imperfection is your finest quality.”
Ginny laughed. He wasn’t a very good singer.
“She’s cute because of all her imperfections,” Armpit explained.
“I knew it!” said Ginny. “I smelled her p-perfume on Coo.”
Armpit remembered Tatiana had hugged Coo.
“Tati-ahna,” teased Ginny.
“I don’t even know if she