Free Big Mouth by Deborah Halverson Page B

snapped a picture of the guy with his cell phone camera. Instead of “Cheese,” the M&M shouted, “Go, Mustard!”
    “Yeah, Auggie! That one’s a keeper,” Tater said. He waved his cell phone at me. “How about you, Shermie? You want one? They say a picture’s worth a thousand words. Go, Mustard!”
    “Nuh-uh,” I muttered, turning away. I probably should’ve cheered, “Go, Mustard!” in solidarity or something, but there were no cheers in me this morning, not even for the Mustard Movement.
    “Suit yourself.” Tater and his M&M disappeared into the crowd.
    My bus revved its engine. Lucy stepped up beside me and groaned. “Oh no. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”
    She was looking past the MUSTARD ! sign at our red blob of a school. Two janitors in green overalls were perched at the top of ladders on either side of the double doors. They were hanging a white banner with large red letters. IN DEL HEINY WE TRUST.
    Culwicki was striking back.
    “It’s official, I am living a nightmare.” Lucy gazed back longingly at the departing bus. “I gotta wake up from this. Someone please pinch me.”
    For an evil moment, I considered volunteering.
Fat belt, my foot.
    A sudden movement caught my eye. Across the crowded quad, the Finns had just burst out of a pack of yellow-hatted ninth graders and were now sprinting toward the janitors. They had double-barreled water rifles in their hands and were wearing court jester costumes with yellow bandannas on their faces.
    Oh, c’mon. Like no one will recognize you giant idiots behind bandannas.
What an embarrassment to the Mustard Taggers.
They
knew how to keep their identities secret.
    When the Finns passed the front steps, they paused just long enough to blast each janitor in the back with long squirts of yellow goo and then plunge back into the crowd. Plums all over the quad erupted in cheers and chants of “Go, Mustard!” The startled janitors didn’t even have time to figure out the direction of the attack.
    “Yet more signs of intelligent life at Del Heiny Junior thirteen,” Lucy muttered. “I bet the Finns are Aries. Their poor mom.”
    The pack of ninth graders that the Finns had launched from was clapping and high-fiving Shane, who was wearing a Henry VIII costume. It was all I could do not to run over and yank that crown down over his smug grin. Clearly he’d ordered the attack. I couldn’t believe his nerve, twisting the mustard revolution for his own gain. He couldn’t have spelled “mustard” to save his life! Shane was tainting The Cause. And though the janitors were hated by the rest of us Plums, they’d been nothing but nice to Shane and his Finns. No loyalty among jerks, I guess.
    “Another day in paradise.” Lucy sighed and trudged blobward. “At least this isn’t Del Heiny Junior five. I’d kill myself if I was a number five Big Boy.”
    Now
I
gazed longingly after the bus. The stupid thing was long gone.
    Lucy noticed I wasn’t following. “Are you planning to stand there all day? C’mon, already, I’m not gonna bring you lunch out here. Chop, chop.”
    “Yes, sir, boss woman,
sir,
” I muttered.
I wouldn’t want to miss lunch. After all, I’ve got my
fat belt
to feed.
    Lucy stopped. “What did you say?”
    “Nothing.” I plodded past her and into the crowd.
Who does she think she is, anyway, calling me fat? Shane? I expect it from him. Some thanks I get for letting her be my coach. I swear, give someone a little power over you, and they forget what it means to be a friend.
    “Don’t give me
nothing.
” Lucy pushed through the crowd behind me. “I heard what you said. Come back here.”
    “Then why’d you ask?” I didn’t even pause. I just marched through a pack of pea-greeners and up the mustard-splotched steps.
    “I said come back here, Shermie. I want to know what you meant by that. Come back here!”
    “You want to know what I meant? Fine, I’ll tell you what I meant.” I spun to face her, right