to tell him he was right—that I
had
built the site—it felt like it would be the end of Shredderman if I did. “But, Mr. Green, I'm not Shredder man.”
His feet swung off the desk.
He leaned forward.
Then he whispered, “I'm not going to breathe a word of this to anyone, Nolan. You cover your tracks by turning in a real project, and I'll make sure no one suspects it's you.”
I just stood there, staring at him.
“Look. I love Shredderman! I think what you've done is going to change the tone of this campus. Let me help you! Your site could be so much more than All Bubba, All the Time. Think about what you can do with it! You could post kids doing
nice
things to each other! Have mystery guests. Or riddles about kids no one knows very well. There's a ton you can do with your site. Good stuff!”
“But—”
“Come on,” he laughed. “Superman had Jimmy Olsen! Batman had Robin! Shoot, even The Gecko's got Sticky, right? Shredderman needs an ally.” He leaned in a little closer. “Nolan, let me be your sidekick.”
A teacher as a sidekick?
I laughed out loud. And I was about to say, Really? but he stopped me. “You don't have to say a word,” he whispered, then put out his hand.
I looked at him a minute, then shook it.
CHAPTER 15
Mr. Bixby
After lunch, it was like my conversation with Mr. Green had never happened. He taught, he sang, he read a story. He was just Mr. Green.
He sure wasn't
acting
like a sidekick!
And after school, he stood at the door and said bye to us like he usually does. “Don't forget your lunchbox, Sarah…. Good luck at your game this afternoon, Andrew…. Hey, Danielle, your back pack's wide open…. See ya, Myles…. Keep smiling, Trinity…. “ When I came past, he said, “Stay cool, dude,” and gave me a wink.
I didn't go straight home. I sat on a bench at the edge of the playground, thinking. What was I going to do with my Web site now?
And what was happening to Bubba, anyway? Were they going to make him be nicer?
Could they do that?
Were they going to kick him out of school?
And if they did, why have a Web site?
Why be Shredderman?
Mr. Green seemed to think there was lots more I could do with the site, but right then I was thinking that maybe I should just tear it down.
Then I spotted Bubba. He was out in the parking lot, standing between his mother and father.
I jumped off the bench and moved closer.
I hid behind a tree and watched.
Bubba's dad was unlocking their car and yelling at Mrs. Bixby.
Mrs. Bixby started yelling back, but he grabbed her by the arm and kind of shoved her into the car.
Then Mr. Bixby started yelling at Bubba, and when Bubba said something back, Mr. Bixbypopped him across his head and shouted, “I said, get inside!”
Where was my camera? Boy! That Mr. Bixby was big and mean. A real bully!
All of a sudden I was Shredderman again, only this time I wanted to
defend
Bubba. How could his father be so mean?
There was nothing I could do, though. Not now anyway. They were already driving away.
And as I watched their car peel out of the parking lot, I thought that maybe Bubba Bixby
wasn't
born big and mean, full of teeth and ready to bite.
Maybe Bubba had learned it from his dad.
I wandered home, thinking about Bubba's dad. About my dad. What a difference!
And it made me think about how lucky I was— my dad had never treated me like that.
Ever.
By the time I got home, I had a new plan. Acool plan! One I couldn't wait to get started on!
“Mom!” I shouted when I burst through the door.
“In here!” she called from the kitchen.
“Hey! Can you take me over to the
Gazette!”
“The
Gazette!
Why?”
“I want to see Dad. Right away.”
She stopped smearing peanut butter in a celery stick. “Is everything all right?”
I took the celery stick. “Everything's great!” I chomped through peanut butter and said, “I want to talk to him about my project!”
“You do?”
“Uh-huh! Can we go?”
She dropped everything,
had
built the site—it felt like it would be the end of Shredderman if I did. “But, Mr. Green, I'm not Shredder man.”
His feet swung off the desk.
He leaned forward.
Then he whispered, “I'm not going to breathe a word of this to anyone, Nolan. You cover your tracks by turning in a real project, and I'll make sure no one suspects it's you.”
I just stood there, staring at him.
“Look. I love Shredderman! I think what you've done is going to change the tone of this campus. Let me help you! Your site could be so much more than All Bubba, All the Time. Think about what you can do with it! You could post kids doing
nice
things to each other! Have mystery guests. Or riddles about kids no one knows very well. There's a ton you can do with your site. Good stuff!”
“But—”
“Come on,” he laughed. “Superman had Jimmy Olsen! Batman had Robin! Shoot, even The Gecko's got Sticky, right? Shredderman needs an ally.” He leaned in a little closer. “Nolan, let me be your sidekick.”
A teacher as a sidekick?
I laughed out loud. And I was about to say, Really? but he stopped me. “You don't have to say a word,” he whispered, then put out his hand.
I looked at him a minute, then shook it.
CHAPTER 15
Mr. Bixby
After lunch, it was like my conversation with Mr. Green had never happened. He taught, he sang, he read a story. He was just Mr. Green.
He sure wasn't
acting
like a sidekick!
And after school, he stood at the door and said bye to us like he usually does. “Don't forget your lunchbox, Sarah…. Good luck at your game this afternoon, Andrew…. Hey, Danielle, your back pack's wide open…. See ya, Myles…. Keep smiling, Trinity…. “ When I came past, he said, “Stay cool, dude,” and gave me a wink.
I didn't go straight home. I sat on a bench at the edge of the playground, thinking. What was I going to do with my Web site now?
And what was happening to Bubba, anyway? Were they going to make him be nicer?
Could they do that?
Were they going to kick him out of school?
And if they did, why have a Web site?
Why be Shredderman?
Mr. Green seemed to think there was lots more I could do with the site, but right then I was thinking that maybe I should just tear it down.
Then I spotted Bubba. He was out in the parking lot, standing between his mother and father.
I jumped off the bench and moved closer.
I hid behind a tree and watched.
Bubba's dad was unlocking their car and yelling at Mrs. Bixby.
Mrs. Bixby started yelling back, but he grabbed her by the arm and kind of shoved her into the car.
Then Mr. Bixby started yelling at Bubba, and when Bubba said something back, Mr. Bixbypopped him across his head and shouted, “I said, get inside!”
Where was my camera? Boy! That Mr. Bixby was big and mean. A real bully!
All of a sudden I was Shredderman again, only this time I wanted to
defend
Bubba. How could his father be so mean?
There was nothing I could do, though. Not now anyway. They were already driving away.
And as I watched their car peel out of the parking lot, I thought that maybe Bubba Bixby
wasn't
born big and mean, full of teeth and ready to bite.
Maybe Bubba had learned it from his dad.
I wandered home, thinking about Bubba's dad. About my dad. What a difference!
And it made me think about how lucky I was— my dad had never treated me like that.
Ever.
By the time I got home, I had a new plan. Acool plan! One I couldn't wait to get started on!
“Mom!” I shouted when I burst through the door.
“In here!” she called from the kitchen.
“Hey! Can you take me over to the
Gazette!”
“The
Gazette!
Why?”
“I want to see Dad. Right away.”
She stopped smearing peanut butter in a celery stick. “Is everything all right?”
I took the celery stick. “Everything's great!” I chomped through peanut butter and said, “I want to talk to him about my project!”
“You do?”
“Uh-huh! Can we go?”
She dropped everything,
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