The trade.

My mom always gets on me for trading my lunch. If I had listened to her, none of this would have happened.

"What have you got today?" whispers Brad Rouzer during science.

"I don't know. I think tuna salad and oatmeal cookies." My mom bakes the very best oatmeal cookies in the whole world. Everybody knows it.

"Trade you for peanut butter and an apple."

"Yeah, OK," I say. Now, I know that's a pretty boring lunch. But if you knew Brad Rouzer, you'd do what he asked you to. He's the biggest kid in the fourth grade, and he has a forehead like the grill on a Mack truck.

The bell rings, and we head down to the lunchroom. Amelia Steinburg sits next to me. I'm not saying I like her or anything, but she's pretty good for a girl. A lot of guys think so. So I don't want to look like a jerk in front of her, you know?

"Hi, Josh," she says and smiles. She's got this great chip in her front tooth. I smile back.

"Hand it over, Gibbs," Brad says, throwing his smashed peanut butter sandwich and an old bruised apple on the table.

"OK," I mutter. Amelia is turned around and talking to Sharon Overholt, and I don't want her to notice me being scared of Brad. So, while she's not looking, I stick my hand in my bag really quick. And that's when I figure it out. I pull my hand out even quicker.

See, my mom makes great oatmeal cookies, but there's something else about her, too. She's an entomologist. That means she does research on bugs all day. I know it's kind of a weird thing to do. Sometimes over the weekend she collects samples to take to work. She puts them in little plastic things and puts the little plastic things in a bag to take with her. She puts them in a brown paper bag, just like my lunch. In fact, exactly like my lunch.

"Come on, Gibbs," Brad says. He's getting mad.

"Umm--you know, I was thinking," I stammer. Amelia looks at me.

"I was remembering that I can't eat peanut butter anymore. I mean, last time I had this reaction. Hives and stuff."

Amelia makes a face. I probably shouldn't have said hives. It makes me sound like a geek.

Brad just smiles. "Oh, poor Joshy-Woshy," he says. He grabs my lunch. He sticks in his hand and pulls out--

"Bugs!" he yells and flicks one of the plastic things across the table. The top comes off and a bunch of bugs--scarab beetles--fly out. Emily Rahman screams and knocks over her thermos. The beetles rain down into Sharon Overholt's strawberry yogurt. She makes this funny kind of gasp and sprays milk all over Chris Jackson. Chris jumps up, and his chair falls backward and hits Kim Nguyen. She gets mad and says, "Watch it," and kicks Chris in the knee.

And I think, Mom, why'd you have to be an entomologist? Why couldn't you be some, I don't know, some "mom" thing.

But then I notice Brad. He's making gagging noises and doing this little dance, shaking his hands and shivering all over like he's freezing. And I realize that he's scared. Brad Rouzer is scared of my mom's bugs. And I notice something else. Amelia's not. I pick up the sack and pull out the rest of the little plastic things. Amelia leans over and looks at them.

"I've never seen a bug with a horn like that," she says.

"They're scarabs," I say. "Like in Egypt, you know? They're supposed to be scavengers. These aren't even that big. Some of them get huge."

"Really?" She picks up another plastic thing. Brad's sitting on the floor, holding his stomach. People are still yelling around us, and a couple of kids are laughing at Brad. You've got to feel sorry for him.

"Look at this green one," Amelia says. "That's pretty cool. Where did you get them?"

"They're my mom's," I say. I look at Amelia, and then I look back at Brad. And I think, Mom, I guess you're pretty OK after all.