Bradley Wallace Murphy just turned thirteen, and he's not happy about it. He doesn't fit in at school, he's no good at sports, a bully torments him, he's a disappointment to his parents, and his only "friends" are fictional characters on a TV show c...
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CHAPTER 7
Food for Thought
The next few days were uneventful for Bradley Wallace, except for a run-in with Wagner. As he'd feared, all the guys sought him out for arm wrestling challenges, hoping to defeat him and become the new champion. But Bradley Wallace continued to prove unbeatable, which pleased him immensely and increased his level of self-confidence more than anything else he'd ever done.
That first morning, the insanely jealous John Wagner told anyone who would listen that his loss to Murphy was a fluke and that he'd definitely win the next time. Of course, no one took him for anything but a blowhard and a sore loser and this rejection stoked the flame of his anger.
That afternoon, during recess, Bradley Wallace exited a stall in the boy's bathroom and came face to face with a glowering Wagner, who defiantly blocked his path to the door. He saw past the surface of his enemy's arrogant glare to the desperation that Wagner tried so hard to conceal, and frowned in confusion.
"What do you want, Wagner?"
"I want to know what the hell you're up to," Wagner demanded, a slight edge to his voice that disturbed him. Wagner actually sounded sincere.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he retorted honestly, but forcefully. His knees were beginning to shake, but Wagner would never know it.
"You know!" the raven-haired boy spat, his tone again tainted with that mysterious undertone of desperation. "You did something to beat me yesterday, just like you're making me have all those dreams. I don't know what you're doing, Murphy, but you're gonna stop today!"
Wagner took several menacing steps toward him, but Bradley Wallace was too bewildered to even retreat and Wagner, thinking better of his move, halted a few paces back, his features dancing with anger, defiance, and fear.
Dreams? What dreams, Bradley Wallace wondered. What was Wagner talking about?
Realizing he had to respond, he said, "You're crazy." He wanted to say "You're just mad because I beat you," but decided Wagner was too unstable for that; there'd be a fight for sure. Then another thought suddenly struck him - if Wagner (for whatever reason) thought he was being harassed, why couldn't Bradley Wallace use that delusion to his advantage? Maybe get Wagner out of his hair for good? The possibility energized him and a sly smile crossed his face. He folded his arms across his chest in his best impression of haughtiness.
"Look, you leave me alone and I'll leave you alone," he warned, delighted to finally be dishing out some of Wagner's own sour medicine,
Wagner's gray eyes blazed with malevolence, but he made no move to attack. "Just stay away from me!" he spat, turning on his heel and storming from the bathroom.
Bradley Wallace's knees felt weak and he leaned against the tile wall, suddenly realizing his body was slick with sweat. Despite his outward veneer of strength and calm, he'd been nervous and more than a little afraid. Wagner seemed to be getting more and more unstable. What was all that stuff about dreams? How could he have anything to do with Wagner's dreams? Like it or not, he felt a fight between them was only a matter of time. Maybe he should start watching boxing on television.
