Summer School! What Genius Thought That Up? (10 page)

I looked around the room. The kids seemed to be enjoying my accent. Everyone was smiling—everyone but Joelle, that is. She was picking some lint off one of the birdies on her leotard.

I had finished the facts that were on the first note card, and it was time to go to the next. I reached down to shuffle the top card to the back of the pile. It stuck to my fingers. I shook my hand, hoping it would fall off, but it didn't. The spirit gum was starting to dry and get sticky, just like Big Eddie said it would.

I bent over and put the card on the floor. Then I stepped on it with my sneaker and yanked my hand away. The card came free from my hand but stuck to my sneaker. I left it there. I was no fool. I wasn't going to touch it again.

“I vas raised in Munich, where I vent to school and studied zee violin. I didn't enjoy zee school much. I found it—how you kids say—too boring.”

“I'm with you, Big Al,” Luke Whitman called out.

This time, I carefully picked up card number two using only the tippy tips of my first two fingers. I thought I could just slide it to the back of the pile. Unfortunately, the card didn't cooperate. It stuck to the tippy tip of my index finger, which by now was really sticky. The spirit gum was kicking in big time.

I took my other hand and carefully pulled the card off my index finger. It came off—only now it was stuck to my other hand. I could hear Salvatore and Matthew laughing in the back of the class.

“Zis is part of my plan,” I said. “Not to worry.”

I raised my hand to my mouth, put the index card between my teeth, clamped down, and pulled on it like a dog grabbing for a bone. It came flying off my finger, all right. But now it was stuck to my tooth.

Did you ever try to give a report with an index card hanging off your chompers? Trust me, it makes things very complicated.

A few more kids started to laugh. I had to get that thing out of my mouth quickly. So I reached up with my whole hand and grabbed the card impatiently. No more Mister Nice Guy. I think my hands might have been shaking from being nervous, because I missed the card and grabbed my mustache instead. Three of my fingers instantly attached themselves to the fake hair on my upper lip.

I had a choice. I could either try to continue my speech with three fingers clinging to my upper lip, or I could try to detach my hand from my mustache. It was a no-brainer. I pulled.

I reached up to my face and realized that I had yanked the mustache too hard. Half of it had slid down my lip and landed on my teeth. I have to tell you, it felt pretty hairy in my mouth. And it was really crowded in there, too. I had three fingers, an index card, and half a mustache all fighting for space. Plus two new molars. It's amazing I still had room for my tongue!

Everyone was laughing now. Mason was giggling so hard, he nearly fell off his chair. If I hadn't needed an A, it would have been funny to me, too. But under the circumstances, I couldn't laugh. I had no choice but to continue.

With my fingers and mustache filling my mouth, and the card I needed still in my teeth, I had to do the rest of the report from memory. The problem was, my memory wasn't working.

“I am very famous for developing zee theory of vhat you call it,” I said. See what I mean? I told you my memory was on vacation.

“You know, zee big deal theory about zee light and all zat stuff.” Man, I was desperate.

Suddenly, a little voice chirped up like a bird.

“You mean the theory of relativity.”

It was Mason! He remembered!

“Zat is exactly vhat I mean,” I said. “Zank you, young man.”

I thought it would be good to act casual at this point in my presentation, so I strolled over to the desk and leaned against the edge of it like Mr. Rock often does.

“My greatest discovery vas vhen I calculated zee speed limit of zee universe, known as zee speed of light, vhich is . . .”

The speed of light had left my brain at the speed of light. For the life of me, I couldn't remember the numbers. I could almost see them written down on my note card in green ink. I just couldn't get them to jump off the card and into my head.

The note cards! I could still look at them. I glanced down at the stack of index cards that were clutched tightly in my hands. I should say clutched in my sticky hands,
sticky
being the key word here. The index cards were all clumped up in one big wad, sealed together forever with spirit gum. Somewhere in that wad was the speed of light, but it was buried deep.

The class was staring at me, waiting for me to say something. I thought that maybe if I started fresh, the information would just pop into my head. It does that sometimes.

“So like I vas saying, I figured out zee speed of light, vhich is . . .”

Nope, nothing popped into my head. No popping, just silence. Suddenly, I heard that little chirping voice speak up again. It was Mason!

“The speed of light is one hundred and eighty-six thousand miles per second,” he said, like it was something that every kindergartner knew.

“Zank you again, young man,” I said. “I vas just seeing if everyone vas avake. And you are. Also, you're a very intelligent person.”

“No, I'm not.” Mason giggled. “You taught me that, Hank. I mean Albert.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Rock hold out his hand and give Mason a high five.

“Go on, Einstein,” Mr. Rock said. “We're very interested.”

“Nothing goes faster than zee speed of light,” I continued. “If you could go faster zan zat, vhich is impossible, you vould get sick in zee tummy unt get a speeding ticket, too.”

I had planned that joke. And it was working. Everyone chuckled, and for a second I felt good again. But only for a second. I had forgotten one little detail—the spirit gum all over the back of my shorts.

When I stepped away from the desk to make my next point, I heard a loud ripping sound. It sounded like my pants ripping all the way across the butt area.

That's because it WAS my pants ripping all the way across the butt area. “I don't believe this!” Joelle howled. “Wait until I tell Nick!”

I looked over at the desk and saw a good portion of my shorts clinging to the edge. That meant only one thing—that a good portion of my tighty whities were hanging out for all the class to see.

Run, that's what. Which is exactly what I did. Sideways, all the way to the door.

“HANK, COME OUT.”

I was huddled in the stall of the boys' bathroom. Mr. Rock was on the other side of the door, talking to me as I wrapped myself up in the palm leaves from my King Kahuna Huna costume. Thank goodness for that grocery bag with my costume in it. Without it, my tighty whities would still have been waving in the breeze.

“Thanks, anyway, Mr. Rock, but I think I'll just hang out in here for a while, if you don't mind.”

“I do mind,” he said.

“What happened out there was pretty embarrassing,” I explained. “I'd rather not have to see all the kids right now.”

“I don't expect you to go back in to class,” he said. “Just come out of the stall.”

“No, thanks. I like small spaces. It's cozy in here.”

“Hank.”

“No, really. All it needs is a fireplace.”

“Hank, why won't you come out?”

Because if I do, I'll have to see Frankie and Ashley and I can't face them, either. I've messed everything up for them, too.”

“I just saw Frankie,” Mr. Rock said. “He stopped by the classroom to say he was expecting you at the luau.”

“I know he's counting on me, but I can't go,” I told Mr. Rock. “My dad said the only way I could go was if I got an A on my Einstein report.”

“Oh,” Mr. Rock answered. “Well, I'm afraid you didn't get an A.”

“Tell me something I don't know.”

“You got an A-plus.”

My ears almost stood up on my head and danced the cha-cha. I opened the door and stuck my head out of the stall.

“You didn't happen to say that I got an A-plus, did you, Mr. Rock?”

He smiled. “That's exactly what I said, Hank. I gave you an A for knowing the material and for creativity of presentation. And the plus was for being able to teach what you know to someone else.”

“You mean Mason?”

“Yes.” Mr. Rock nodded. “After you left the room, Mason finished your report for you. He told us about how Einstein won the Nobel Prize and loved to sail boats and how the Hopi Indians gave him the name ‘The Great Relative.' ”

“And did he tell you that Einstein didn't wear socks because his big toenail always made a hole in them?”

“Yes, he did,” smiled Mr. Rock. “I could hear your voice in every word he said, Hank. You're a fine teacher and a natural communicator.”

Let me just take a minute to describe to you how I felt when Mr. Rock said that. Imagine that some people gave you the biggest, best birthday present you ever hoped for in your whole entire life. And then they rolled out a birthday cake the size of a jet airplane. A chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate sprinkles. And then they gave you a spoon and said you could eat the whole cake yourself. And when you were done, you could play with your new present for the rest of the year. That would feel pretty cool, huh?

Well, that's how I felt. Imagine it. A teacher,
my
teacher, gave me a real live compliment for schoolwork I had done. And an A-plus for something I never thought I could do in the first place! Unbelievable.

“Wow,” I said to Mr. Rock. “Wowee, wow, wow, wow.”

How's that for being a natural communicator?

“I've already discussed your grade with your father,” Mr. Rock said. “So if I'm not mistaken, I think you have a luau and a sleepover to go to.”

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Two-thirty,” he answered.

Two-thirty! The talent show started at two-thirty! And Magik 3 was on first.

I shot out of the bathroom stall like a torpedo.

“Hank!” Mr. Rock called after me. “Your wig!”

I had forgotten that I was still Albert Einstein from the waist up. I gave the wig a tug as I bolted for the playground. Oh boy, that spirit gum had really worked. The Einstein hair was on there for good, maybe even longer. No time to get it off now. That went for the droopy mustache, as well.

I WAS PANTING PRETTY HARD by the time I reached the far end of the playground where the luau was taking place. All the Junior Explorers were sitting on striped beach blankets in front of a stage that had been put up for the talent show. The backdrop of the stage was painted in a Hawaiian scene with purple volcanoes and red lava. Next to that, there was a limbo area set up in the sandbox. And next to that was a big wading pool filled with water and floating plastic Hawaiian flowers. I've never been to Hawaii, but I have to say, if it looks anything like the playground at PS 87 looked, I would really enjoy it.

There was no time for stopping to admire the scenery, though. Frankie was already on stage wearing a top hat and a Hawaiian shirt. He was talking into a microphone that crackled a little when he spoke.

“Come with me now to the ancient Hawaiian Islands, when King Kahuna Huna sailed the seas in his magical canoe,” I heard him say.

Yikes. That was me. I had better get sailing, or I was going to be up a creek without a paddle.

Ashley was standing on the stage strumming her ukulele and singing softly.

I know it was a crazy song, but with the volcano and the lava and the Hawaiian flowers, it all kind of worked.

Her dad, Dr. Wong, was using tongs to put big chunks of dry ice into a bucket on the stage in front of where the volcano was painted. Ashley's mom, the other Dr. Wong, was standing by with a kettle of water. They were concentrating very hard on what they were doing, so that when I talked to them, they didn't even look up.

“Dr. Wong?” I said.

“Yes, Hank,” they both answered at once.

I wondered if it was a problem to have the same name. Maybe Ashley's mom should go by Dr. Wongette so they wouldn't get confused. Or maybe Dr. Wongess sounds better. Or maybe something different like Dr. Mom-Wong.

“Where should I go for my entrance?” I asked them.

“Backstage,” the good doctors Wong answered together. “You're late.”

Dr. Wongette poured some water from the kettle onto the dry ice in the bucket. She did a really good job because big puffs of white steam started to rise from it. I looked up at Frankie on stage. He was waving his magic wand and starting to do a tribal warrior dance.

“Oh Great King Kahuna Huna,” he chanted as he danced, “come to us in your canoe. Appear in great clouds of smoke erupting from the Mauna Kapapa volcano.”