Read part 6 here.

The Plan Goes Splat!

When Jack got to Town Square on Friday, it seemed like the whole town was waiting for him.

He walked to his usual spot on the bandstand. He tapped his front pocket — the one with the folded-paper amulet — for luck.

He took out the poster and held it up over his head with both hands so people could see Emilio Garcia’s face.

Jack cleared his throat. “So, everyone say it with me today okay?” He took a deep breath and — splat!

Jack felt a gooey splash hit the top of his head. Gelatinous liquid soaked into his hair and dripped down his head.

When an astonishing thing happens, there is a moment of silence between the seeing and the reacting. In that silence, Jack heard several pairs of footsteps running off the bandstand behind him. He whipped around. Goo flew. He wiped his eyes. Who was it? Jack couldn’t tell. They wore masks. But the voice that had hissed, “THAT’S what you do with Manly Man beef stew” had sounded awfully familiar.

Jack turned back to the crowd. The astonishment had registered and now came the reactions. Laughter, mostly. And chattering. And of course, holding phones aloft to take videos.

A chunk of beef slipped off Jack’s shoulders and plopped on to the bandstand. Stew juice seeped into his shirt.

Jack glanced skyward, where he figured the Great Whatever was watching. Enough, he thought. He rolled up the poster and bent down to stuff it in his pack.

He heard footsteps behind him. He didn’t care. What worse thing could happen? The footsteps stopped. A hand touched his shoulder. A voice said in his ear, “We love you Emilio Garcia.”

Keisha.

He stood. She reached for his hand. The second time, they said it together, said it loud. “We love you Emilio Garcia.” Two other people joined them as well. The flannel shirt guy and Ms. Bergson, barely visible at the back of the crowd.

Keisha grabbed the poster and held it up. When she and Jack shouted “We love you Emilio Garcia!” the third time, more than half the crowd joined them.

“See you tomorrow,” shouted Keisha. “Bring a friend!”

Lunchtime was over.

Keisha turned to Jack. “That was your plan?”

Jack shrugged. “Pretty much.” They walked back to school together in silence, trailing the main flow of people. Finally Jack asked her, “Why did you do that?”

“I have too many letters to write,” she said. “I help you, you help me. Deal?”

Jack reached out his hand. A small chunk of potato clung to his wrist. Keisha shook his hand anyway.

The story continues next week. …