6 This Is Bad

CHAPTER SIX THIS IS BAD "EXCUSE ME?" SIMON answered. I knew he didn't say that because he didn't hear Max. He said that because he didn't know how to answer Max. "Um, what?" "I said, where's my ball?" Max said. Then Simon opened his eyes really wide, like he was in absolute shock. He slapped his forehead hard. "Gosh darn it!" Simon exclaimed. "I totally forgot it. Sorry."

Max stared at Simon for a couple of seconds. It wasn't a mean stare. It was more like a disappointed stare. Max wasn't intimidating because he wasn't nice, he was intimidating because he was huge. Like, you know, massive. "It's all right, Bowman," he said after that two- second stare down. "But we're playing for the championship at five o'clock at Picasso Park. And it's my lucky ball. Bring it to me there."

"Okay," Simon said quickly and nodded his head fast. "I'll bring it."

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Max seemed satisfied with that, but he wanted to make certain. He asked, "You'll bring it, right?" "Right," Simon replied. "Five o'clock. Got it." "For sure?" "For sure." Max left. Simon waited until Max was on the other side of the cafeteria, then he said, "You guys, what am I going to do?" It was a totally bad situation. Max's favorite World Cup soccer ball was stuck in the top of Picasso Park's tallest tree. The tree was way too high—and way too flimsy at the top—to climb. It would be dangerous for sure. "Maybe it will be really windy this afternoon," I said, trying to make Simon feel better. "Maybe we'll go to Picasso Park after school and the ball will just be there at the foot of the tree waiting for you."

"Yeah, maybe," Simon said. He didn't really believe that was possible, I could tell. "But it's really wedged in up there. It's trapped between two branches. I don't think it will come down on its own.