The red bump on Nick’s face wasn’t going away, as a matter of fact, it was getting bigger. He wiped the steam from the mirror with his hand, even though he knew his mom hated it when he did that. He leaned up against the sink and looked at it again.

About the size of a dime and red as fire. Like a mosquito bite or something. He breathed in and slowly raised his fingers to his face. He would try and pop it again today. Or at least get the white head to show. But the instant he touched it, tears came to his eyes.

Nick wasn’t a baby. Just the thought of Terry calling him one made him mad. But he couldn’t even touch it. The last thing he was going to do was cry or tell his mom. He would have to be sneaky at breakfast otherwise she would put her paws all over his face and make him squirm. Maybe if he sat on the other side of the table he would hide from her.

“Get down here now!” she called again. So annoying.

He was probably late again. He ran the towel over his head and zipped out the door, down the hall and into his room before he called out: “OK, OK Jeez!”

“Don’t you ‘Jeez’ me mister! Hurry up!” she shouted.

Ugh. Mom seemed to be regular style again today. He called it “regular style” in his mind ever since Uncle Tony had died. She was always in a hurry and always talking about money. He didn’t know why Uncle Tony had changed her, but he never could figure her out. If this is what women turned into when they got older, he would never marry one, that’s for sure.

He threw on something from his closet. Whoops. Not that shirt. It didn’t fit anymore. OK. The red and white one. The one without the stain on the front. Alright. Pants, socks, shoes. Done. Down the hall and…

“What in the world is keeping you so long?” his mom yelled up at him.

“Nothing.” Nick replied.

“Well, the bus will be here in six minutes. Here’s five dollars for lunch. Eat a vegetable today.” Mom said and put a plate of French toast in front of him with peanut butter.

“I will unless it’s broccoli.” Nick said. He grabbed the peanut butter. He hated syrup on his French toast.

“Fair enough. I didn’t raise no fool.” she smiled.

Nick smiled back. He thought she would yell at him for that. He cut into his French toast and put a delicious piece in his mouth. Mom made the best French toast.

“What’s that honey?” She had noticed the huge zit.

“Nothing.” he said, his mouth full.

“Oh? Looks to me like you’re going to be growing a beard soon, huh?” she said. “Should I buy you a shaver?” she smiled.

“Mooommm.” Nick groaned. That was all he needed. The only kid in school with a beard.

They both heard the bus pull up and honk. Her first action was to grab his book bag and open the door, while his was to stuff another couple of chunks in his mouth and chew like a madman.

“Go, go, go! You know she hates to wait!” she yelled from the front door. She opened the screen and waved at the driver: “He’s coming!” she called.

He knew what time the bus would get there. It was always there at 7:45 with all the idiots aboard. He only wanted to sit next to Kenny and talk about Sisugi. He threw down the last of the French toast and was out the door.

Racing out the door with the book-bag and hopping onto the bus he ran like a comet. Bam. Right in his favorite seat next to Kenny.

Something, something “In a hurry!” The bus driver was saying as he got on. Whatever. Kenny had on new shoes.

Kenny sat on the third to the last row on the left side as he walked back. It was a good spot. One row back from the wheel and the cushion wasn’t crap. The gross green pleather was worn in just the right way so your butt didn’t complain. Kenny was already sorting cards. Sisugi was mostly a card game, but to Kenny, it was a lifestyle. All he talked about and all he drew were Sisugi warriors and monsters.

“I don’t see what the big deal is.” he said, holding up one of the Sisugi cards. He only attacks seven but his defense is two. He’s killed before he can do anything.” He plopped the card in my lap. “Shinobi Disciple” was the title on the card. He had a lot of copies of that card. It was common. Most of them he increased the cost by one and wrote a 4 over the 2. He loved to fix the cards that he thought were wrong.

“It’s not bad.” Nick told him. “He’s fast.” He gave it back to him.

“Keep it. I’ve got twenty of them.” Kenny shuffled some more Sisugi cards. “What I’m trying to collect is the Shinobi Acrobat, Shinobi Assassin and the Shinobi Teacher.”

“Shouldn’t it be called “Shinobi Sensei?” Nick wondered.

Kenny looked at Nick through his glasses as if seeing him for the first time. “Yeah. That sounds way cooler.”

At recess they would sort Kenny’s cards into categories. Kenny didn’t care that they were dirty, he just loved to sort them and resort them and find new strategies. He was never satisfied with what he had.

“Did you have the moth dream again?” he asked Nick. He had his Demons and Angels all in one pile together and Knights and Sultans in another. Nick didn’t say anything at first. Kenny was the only one Nick had told but it was weird to hear him ask it like that.

“No. They didn’t come.” Nick said.

“That’s weird.” He stopped and looked up. “Did you call ’em?”

“No, I didn’t think about it.” Nick confessed. That was a good idea. “I opened the door though.”

“Huh,” was all Kenny said, and went on sorting. “I never thought of that.”