Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Not Growing Up by Tommy Greenwald Page B

said.
    â€œMan, I can’t believe what a wise guy this kid is,” I told Megan.
    â€œI can,” she said. “I’ve lived with one most of my life.”
    Soon, it was 4-4.
    â€œNext point wins!” hollered Mr. Radonski.
    I was just about to serve when Katie elbowed me in the ribs.
    â€œMaybe, uh, go a little easy on him,” she said.
    I couldn’t believe my ears. “Are you crazy? This little brat thinks he’s God’s gift to air hockey! I need to finish him off right here and now.”
    Katie rolled her eyes. It was her go-to move, and it got me every time. “Just … remember that he’s a little kid,” she said. “And you’re not.”
    â€œSo what? This is war!”

    I served, and we bashed the little puck back and forth. Gerald smacked a laser that was headed right for the goal, but somehow I managed to make the save at the last second. Meanwhile I was firing away, but his incredibly quick reflexes made it seem like he knew what I was going to do before I did it. I had to admit—the kid was good. Very good.
    Finally, after an incredibly long rally, I had an opening. Empty net! I could have totally smacked home the game-winner, but for some reason, I let up on the shot just a tiny bit. Maybe Katie’s voice was in my head. In any case, it was all Gerald needed. He saved my shot, then ripped one of his own right past me, into my net.
    Mr. Radonksi blew his whistle for three deafening seconds. “That’s the game!” he announced. “Gerald wins!” He threw a Jookie’s hat at me. “Nice try, kid. Here’s a consolation prize.”
    Gerald threw his hands up in the air in a champion’s pose, while all his little sixth grade friends piled on top of him. The kids were laughing, and screaming, and pounding him on the back—even little Michael McGibney, that traitor. I felt like a giant Great Dane, staring down at his playful puppies. It looked like they were having the best time ever, and part of me wished I was right in the middle of it.
    â€œJeez, it’s like he just won the World Series of air hockey,” Megan said.
    â€œHe did,” I answered.
    After a minute or so, Gerald came up to me. “You got owned!” he said, strutting around in circles like a half-crazed peacock.
    I was about to talk smack back to him, but I decided to be the bigger man. “I guess I did,” I said. Then I put out my hand. “Good game.”
    Gerald looked suspicious for a second, but then he shook it. “Good game to you, too. See you around.”
    â€œNot here you won’t,” I said. “It turns out I’m too old for this place.”
    â€œOh,” said Gerald. “Bummer for you.”
    He was right about that. “Yeah, bummer for me.”
    Katie came up to us and grabbed Gerald’s shoulders. “Kid, I got one piece of advice for you as you head into middle school,” she said.
    Gerald looked at her. “What’s that?”
    â€œDon’t be a jerk.” Then she nodded her head in my direction. “We already got enough of those in this town,” she said.

 
    10
    2:40 pm
    â€œGuess what?” Megan said, as we walked to the car after the Great Jookie’s Air-hockey Extravaganza.
    Katie and I looked at her. “What?” I said.
    Megan giggled. “Now it’s my turn to say where we’re going.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I said. “We need to go home. I have to get ready!”
    â€œNope,” said Megan, shaking her head. “We’ve still got a little time. And I promised Willy I’d meet him at Rogers Field to watch his brother pitch.”
    â€œNow?” Willy was Megan’s boyfriend, and a really nice guy and everything, but I had to be at the awards ceremony in under an hour and a half.
    â€œYup, now,” said Megan. “It’s the playoffs. I can’t not go.”
    â€œIt’s