Rosco the Rascal and the Holiday Lights - A Free Preview

Better Not Pout

Chapter 3

Better Not Pout

Monday morning arrived. Mason stood outside the classroom talking to fellow fifth graders Leo, Asher, and Ian. "Guess what? You guys won't believe this."

"What?" asked Ian.

"My neighborhood was awarded Best Block in the Holiday Lights contest! The very best block—first place. So that means my house will be on the city tour this year!"

"For real?" said Ian.

"Dude," said Leo, "that's so cool!"

"Yeah, I know! The lights look so awesome! Everyone on my street and a bunch of other streets are in on it. It's going to be epic!" Mason raised both arms in the air. "You guys have to come see it!"

"Wouldn't miss it," said Asher. "Congrats."

"I'm in," said Ian.

Mason went on. "It's going to be almost like—like a whole show, with music playing in time to the lights, and everything!"

Leo switched his backpack to the other shoulder. "I went to see the Best Block last year. It was really cool. I wish I lived on your block! You're so lucky!"

"Wait—actually, I have an idea!" said Mason. "Why don't you guys all come and help? James and I were assigned block patrol on Friday night and I'm sure we could use the help. It'll be fun!"

As the boys settled the plans, James arrived. "Hey guys, what's up?"

Mason explained what had been decided, and James' jaw dropped—Mason had already told them the news and invited them?

"So we'll all meet at my house first on Friday night." Mason high-fived Ian. "Is that cool?"

Leo and the others nodded, smiling and waiting for James to respond. But James was tongue-tied. "Uh..."

Mason had already taken over the whole thing and made himself the boss.

James hadn't really wanted to share the job with anyone, and now he had to share it with everyone. But once again, he'd only sound rude if he said so. Instead, he stood there, swallowing hard, his cheeks beginning to burn. "Uh, okay. Cool."

Over the hum of the hallway chatter, the bell rang. The students filed into the classroom and took their seats.

"This is gonna be really fun, James," said Leo. "Can I use the walkie-talkie, too?"

James sighed, nodding, and walked into the room with the last of his classmates. He plopped his books down on his desk and sat at his seat, which was next to Mason's.

"Psst! Mason, you couldn't wait until I got here? I thought we were going to tell everyone together."

James had thought all weekend about how he'd tell his friends the big news. "I mean, my gosh—my dad's in charge of our whole block! Without him, the tour wouldn't even be happening in our neighborhood!"

"You weren't here yet, James. The bell was going to ring. I couldn't wait any longer."

"I wasn't even late! You could've waited ten more seconds!" said James. "And—you invited them all to patrol, too? Why'd you go and do that?"

"The more the merrier. The block is huge, James. It'll be fun."

"But my dad picked us two, not a bunch of our friends. They don't even live on our block," said James. "It's a job, not a party. We can't have a bunch of guys goofing around."

"No one's going to be goofing around," said Mason. "Trust me. It'll be fine. And by the way, it is kind of a party. It's a holiday lights tour! It's supposed to be fun."

Miss Fitzgerald tapped on her desk. "Good morning, students," she said. "It's time to open your science books."

James glared at Mason.

Mason shot back with a questioning look, motioning with his hands. What do you want from me?

James shook his head and sighed. It seemed like Mason always did this kind of thing—made everything about himself. James should've expected it. He opened his textbook and tried to concentrate on what Miss Fitzgerald was saying but his thoughts kept interrupting.

Mason was the kid whose baseball team had beaten him to the championship last spring. Mason was the kid he always competed with for the best scores in math. Mason was the kid who had won first place in the talent show playing a shiny, black electric guitar. James wished he could play the guitar.

The weird thing was that he liked Mason well enough. Everyone did. Mason wasn't a bad kid. He was nice enough—popular, outgoing, respectful—most of the time.

People always seemed to want Mason to win, to go first, to be team captain, to get the lead role, to be at every birthday party. They expected it from him. Even the teachers liked him best.

And because Mason was so smart and so talented, he just assumed he was always in charge of things. James was definitely not looking forward to working with him now.

Today, Mason had already found a way to steal the show, and it was only nine a.m. James chewed on his pencil, trying to focus on Miss Fitzgerald's voice before he missed the whole lesson.

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