What's Behind the Mighty Fitz?

What's Behind the Mighty Fitz? — page 3
The spinning disc whirled above Lucas’s head It aimed straight toward the front of the room and that huge painting of the shipwrecked Edmund Fitzgerald Lucas eyed the Frisbee totally aware of Connor’s size-ten sneakers slamming down on the creaky wooden floor in the next aisle Lucas his legs muscular from running bases whizzed past four desks jumped over a math folder a navy book bag a foot in the aisle and sprinted ahead of Connor This picture’s not a print he thought It’s an oil What’s an oil of a famous ship doing in McKinley Elementary School Doris Sampson yeah she was one of the artists who painted the freighter At least he remembered one name from all those trips to Keeping his eye on the Frisbee spinning higher and higher Lucas pushed off the floor with a burst of speed and leaped onto Ms Thompson’s worktable He gasped as the Frisbee slammed into the picture of the Great Lakes freighter In a split second his hand shot up He caught the Frisbee as it ricocheted off the painting and bounced into his palm Lu-cas Lu-cas classmates chanted behind him Math papers twisted under his Nikes and fluttered to the floor Lucas cringed at the disastrous scene if Ms Thompson caught them Go man go Evan yelled from the rear of the room seeming to congratulate himself on his well-thrown Frisbee Toss it back here But Lucas had stopped playing the game He blocked out the din of cheers swallowed hard and stared in shock at his hand still holding the Frisbee A fleck of reddish-brown paint clung to his wrist With a weird sinking feeling he knew big trouble had found him once again