A Tale of Two Tails (7 page)

I got up and spent about five minutes looking for my backpack, which I finally found in the hamper. I wondered how it got in there. Then I had to locate my fractions worksheet, and that was on the floor of my room, under my damp towel. That was good. I hoped that maybe some of my answers would smear, so Ms. Adolf couldn't tell they were all wrong. By the time I came back from my room, Cheerio was lying next to the potted plant in the living room, chewing on his favorite stuffed monkey.

“You have all day to relax,” I said to him. “When I come home, we're going to have a really good training session with Frankie and Ashley. Let's show them that you can get down to business.”

Cheerio tossed the monkey up in the air and growled. I decided to take that as a sign of agreement.

“Bye, Mom,” I called out as I opened the front door. “Have a good exercise class. I hope the baby doesn't sweat.”

“Thanks, honey,” she yelled back. “Have fun in school.”

Yeah, like that was going to happen.

Frankie and Ashley were waiting for me outside our building. The mornings were still pretty nippy, and they looked cold. They were jumping up and down like they were trying to keep warm. Or like I do when I'm nervous and can't stand still.

“Sorry I'm late, guys,” I said. “Cheerio and I were having a real heart-to-heart, and he promised that he was going to shift it into high gear and focus.”

“Listen, dude,” Frankie said, “about Cheerio . . .”

“We want to talk to you about him,” Ashley chimed in. She looked weird, like she had just eaten a bad peanut.

“What's up?” I asked.

“We're going to make a change,” Frankie said.

“Yeah,” Ashley added. “A change about the mascot contest.”

“Say no more,” I said to them. “I am right with you on that. I was just telling Cheerio that there's going to be no more horsing around. It's a new day, and high time we get serious about this. So I've decided that this afternoon . . .”

“Zip, that's not the kind of change we had in mind.”

Ashley took a deep breath. “Hank,” she said. “We've decided that we're going over to Team Katherine.”

“Katherine is Emily's pet,” I said. “Katherine is competing
against
Cheerio. So you can't be on her team, because that would mean you'd be on two teams at once.”

“We're not on two teams, Zip,” Frankie said.

“Good, because you scared me there for a minute.”

“We're only going to be on one team,” Ashley said.

“Right. Team Cheerio. Just like we planned.”

“Wrong,” Frankie said. “Team Katherine. Just like we didn't plan.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Are you telling me that you're resigning from Team Cheerio?”

“See, it's like this,” Ashley said, pushing her purple rhinestone glasses up on her nose. “Emily and Robert came by a little while ago. And they told us about their plans for Katherine. Did you know they're teaching to her walk backward while balancing a grape on her snout?”

“She'll never do that,” I said. “She's a reptile. All they can do is stand in one place and hiss.”

“Emily says she's learning, Zip. And when she does, she's going to blow all the other contestants out of the water. She'll win, and if we're on her team, we'll get our picture in the paper.”

“Frankie. Listen to me. You'll get your picture in the paper when Cheerio wins!”

“Face it, Zip. Cheerio is never going to pay attention long enough to learn a trick, let alone two or three.”

“And Emily and Robert have a whole training plan for Katherine,” Ashley added. “They follow through, Hank. They already have most of the written report done. They always meet their responsibility.”

“So that's what this is about?” I said. I could hear myself kind of yelling. “You're still mad at me about missing the meeting last night?”

“It's not just last night, Zip. Working with you means we'd have to do most of the work ourselves. And that's just not fun.”

I took a deep breath to calm myself down.

“So let me get this straight,” I said, after I had sucked in a whole ton of the morning air. “You're really and truly, one hundred percent, saying that you're quitting Team Cheerio?”

“That's pretty much it,” Frankie said. “No hard feelings, buddy?”

“No,” I said, not knowing what else to say. “Cheerio and I will do this by ourselves. We got it all locked up.”

“Good luck,” Ashley said. “We'll be friendly competitors, okay?”

“Sure,” I said. “That's exactly what I was going to say.”

But as we set out down 78th Street for school, my brain was saying something entirely different.

1. I can't believe they quit.

2. I can't believe they quit.

3. I can't believe they quit.

4. They quit. I can't believe it.

5. They actually quit. I can't believe it.

6. Can you believe it? They quit.

7. Wait a minute. They actually quit.

8. Holy mackerel, they quit!

9. Have I told you that they really did quit?

10. I can't believe they quit.

As if the day hadn't started badly enough, Ms. Adolf gave us a pop quiz on fractions. There were ten problems and I got one correct. It was one half plus one half, which I know equals a whole. The fact that I knew that made me so excited I can't even explain it to you. Ms. Adolf didn't share my excitement, though. She wrote a big red F on the top of my quiz, which, by the way, did not stand for Fantastic or Fabulous or Far Out.

There it was. Another F.

You know, my father says I'm lazy. Ms. Adolf says that I need to focus. Even my mom, who really tries to understand my learning differences, says I would do a lot better if I just applied myself to my schoolwork. What do they think? That I want to fail? That I'm doing this on purpose? I lie in bed at night, and I think to myself,
Are you trying hard, Hank?
And I promise you, I am.

Sometimes I think tomorrow, I'm going to try harder. And then tomorrow comes and my brain still can't figure out fractions. Man, it's frustrating.

So you can imagine how glad I was when the bell rang for lunch and I could wipe all thoughts of math and fractions and Fs out of my head. I grabbed my brown bag, because it wasn't macaroni day, and headed for the lunchroom. By the time I got a milk and a dessert, Frankie and Ashley were already sitting at our usual table. What wasn't usual was that Robert and Emily were there, too. All four of them were in a deep discussion.

“Hey, guys,” I said, sliding onto the bench next to Ashley. “This looks serious.”

“We're having an important meeting, Hank,” Emily said.

“About what?” I said with a laugh. “Iguana toenail clippings?”

“Actually, yes,” Robert said. “Iguana grooming is the subject.”

“And no offense, dude, but it's private,” Frankie said.

“Oh,” I said. “Okay. Don't mind me, I'll just sit here quietly.”

I reached into my brown bag and took out the plastic baggy that contained my sandwich. Soylami again! I held my nose and was about to take a bite, when suddenly I realized the four of them were staring at me in silence.

“What?” I said. “I did not make this sandwich. Trust me.”

“Hank,” Ashley began, shifting her eyes away from me. “This is a meeting of Team Katherine. And it really is private.”

“Meaning just us,” Frankie said.

“Meaning beat it, big brother,” Emily said.

“Why can't I just sit here and eat my lunch? It's not like I'm going to steal your lizard secrets or anything.”

“You never know,” Emily said. “Let me remind you that you are the competition.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, putting my sandwich back in its baggy. “I get it. Team Cheerio is leaving.”

That reminded me that maybe I had better find a Team Cheerio. One guy and one dachshund does not make a team.

Luke Whitman was sitting at a table by himself. That happens a lot to him. When you pick your nose during lunch, it cuts down on the number of people who can stomach sharing a table with you. Lucky for me, Luke's digging finger was on a break, so I slid onto the bench across from him.

“Luke! Just the guy I was looking for,” I began. “How would you like to be a proud member of Team Cheerio and help me train the greatest dachshund in the city of New York.”

“Sorry, Hank. I have another plan.”

“What plan could be better than being part of a surefire winning team?”

“Can you keep a secret?” Luke whispered.

“Yeah.”

“Don't tell anyone, but I'm training a garden slug to be the school mascot. His name is Fritz, and he lives in the flower box outside our living room window. I feed him already-been-chewed vegetables.”

“Luke. Give me a break. No one is ever going to choose a slug as the school mascot. Slugs are slimy and disgusting.”

“Not Fritz. He is one good-looking slug. He oozes in all the right places.”

With that, Luke's nose-picking finger shot into his nose. I thought it was a perfect time to leave.

Heather Payne was sitting at the next table, with two of her smart-girl friends. Even though Heather is the smartest and tallest person in the fifth grade, she and I have become friends since we were in the school play together. She would make a great member of Team Cheerio.

“Hi, Heather,” I said. “Mind if I join you guys?”

“Of course not, Hank.” She scooted over to make room for me next to her. “We were just talking about the best way to prepare note cards for the history research paper. I was suggesting pink cards for facts and blue cards for opinions.”

“And white cards for neither,” I said, chuckling at my own joke. I noticed that nobody else was. “White . . . as in blank cards. Get it?”

They still weren't laughing. In fact, they weren't even smiling. Not a tooth was showing. The old Zipzer attitude sure wasn't in gear that day. And I can't tell you how hard I was looking for the ignition switch.

“So, Heather,” I said, figuring that the best way with this crowd was to get right down to business. “I'm looking for a select few to join me on Team Cheerio.”

“Gee, Hank, that's a really nice invitation,” Heather responded. “But I don't have time because I've just started peer-tutoring Jeremy Ellington. Poor kid, he's having trouble with word problems.”

“I can relate.” I nodded. “But if anyone can help him, you can, Heather. You're a great tutor. Just don't tell him that there are fractions in his future, or he'll vomit on the spot.”

The girls went back to discussing note card colors, and I got out of there fast. First of all, if I could actually take notes, I wouldn't care what color card they would be on. And second of all, I had work to do. The contest was Friday, exactly one week away, and so far, Team Cheerio consisted of just me.

I got up and looked around the lunchroom to see if there was anyone else I could ask to join. My two best friends were deep in their team meeting without me. Luke was training a slug that looked like something he found in his nose. And me, where was I?

I actually ran out of the lunchroom and onto the playground. My head hurt. Where was I going to find a partner? What was I going to do?

“Hi, Hank,” a little voice said. It was Mason Harris Jerome Dunn, my kindergarten buddy. “What'cha thinking about?”