Barfing in the Backseat Read online

  by Henry Winkler and Lin Oliver

  HANK ZIPZER

  The World’s Greatest Underachiever

  Barfing

  in the

  Backseat

  How I Survived

  My Family

  Road Trip

  Grosset & Dunlap

  Cover illustration by Jesse Joshua Watson

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  Doodles by Theo Baker and Sarah Stern

  Text copyright © 2007 by Henry Winkler and Lin Oliver Productions, Inc.

  Illustrations copyright © 2007 by Grosset & Dunlap. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark

  of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Printed in the U.S.A.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Winkler, Henry, 1945-

  Barfing in the backseat : how I survived my family road trip / by Henry Winkler and Lin Oliver.

  p. cm. – (Hank Zipzer, the world’s greatest underachiever; 12)

  Summary: Hank must work on a huge homework packet during a family trip to North Carolina or he will spend the day with his father at a crossword puzzle tournament rather than riding roller coasters with his mother, sister, and friend Frankie.

  ISBN: 978-1-4362-5239-3

  [1. Automobile travel–Fiction. 2. Homework–Fiction. 3. Family life–Fiction. 4. Crossword puzzles–Fiction. 5. Learning disabilities–Fiction. 6. Humorous stories.] I. Oliver, Lin, ill. II. Title.

  PZ7.W72934Bar 2007

  [Fic]–dc22

  2007009836

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  I dedicate this to every road trip I’ve ever

  taken, and to those I dream about. And of

  course, always, to Stacey.—H.W.

  For Trudi Ferguson, my best friend and

  favorite road tripper, awake or asleep.—L.O.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  About the Author

  “ROAD TRIP!” MY FATHER shouted, bursting into the kitchen. He waved his arms around with such force that he knocked over the Raisin Bran and spilled half the box on the floor. Fortunately, our dog, Cheerio, pounced on the Raisin Bran, sucking it up like the vacuum cleaner dog that he is. None of the Zipzers have had to pick up even a speck of spilled food since Cheerio joined our family. However, we do have to walk him more than the average dog.

  “Did you hear me, guys?” my dad repeated, like not hearing him was even a possibility. “I’ve decided to take a road trip! And am I ever excited.”

  My mom, my sister, and I were sitting at the kitchen table, just finishing breakfast. My dad continued to flap his arms around like a happy chicken. This happy chicken behavior is not like my dad. He’s more of an angry rooster type.

  “Do we get to go, too?” I asked.

  “What do you think?” my sister, Emily, piped up. She likes to answer any question out there, whether or not it was intended for her. That’s because she’s a fourth-grade know-it-all.

  “Emily, I think it’s a fair question,” I said, answering her with my mouth full of half-chewed Raisin Bran with brown sugar. I made sure to leave my mouth open even after I finished talking, just to give her a good shot of the yucky mess on my tongue. It’s a ton of fun to gross her out first thing in the morning.

  “Honestly, Hank,” she sighed, sounding like my teacher Ms. Adolf, which, trust me, is not a compliment. “Do you think they’re going to leave us at home with the TV remote and a stack of microwave fried chicken dinners?”

  “Emily, don’t even say those words,” my mom shuddered. “Frozen dinners are full of additives like BHT and MSG and the rest of the alphabet that isn’t good for you.”

  “Of course we’re taking you guys,” my dad said. “The trip is planned for next week, during your winter break. And guess where we’re going? Here’s a clue,” he added without waiting for our answer. “It’s a fantastic amount of fun.”

  “Disney World!” I shouted, doing a victory dance around the kitchen. But I never got farther than the dishwasher, because my dad said, “Guess again.”

  “The Grand Canyon,” I guessed next. “Okay, so it doesn’t have rides like Disney World, but you can ride a donkey down to the bottom.”

  “Robert did that last year with his mom,” Emily said.

  Wait, did I hear her voice get all soft and gooey when she said Robert’s name?

  Yes, I did. I’m telling you, no one but my totally weird sister could manage to get all soft and gooey over Robert Upchurch, the king of the fourth-grade nose-blowers.

  “Did Robert and his mother have a good time?” my mom asked as she got up to rinse a few remaining clods of granola off her cereal dish. No Raisin Bran for her. She’s definitely a homemade-granola-goop type of person.

  “They did until Robert developed a nasty butt rash,” Emily said. “The trip got better when he figured out that if he put a washcloth in his pants, the donkey saddle wouldn’t irritate his behind.”

  Emily’s skinny boyfriend using terry cloth to fight a rash on his bony butt is just not a picture I want living inside my brain. Unfortunately, it was already there, so I had to shake it loose as fast as I could. I closed my eyes and filled my head with a picture of a pepperoni pizza. Yeah, that was better. The thought of a hot, sizzling slice of pepperoni pizza calms my brain every time.

  “Will you guys stop all this yammering
about the Grand Canyon?” my dad said. “We’re not going there. Where we’re going is even better.”

  What could be better? A million places raced around in my mind. Sea World. Wild Gator Land. The Baseball Hall of Fame.

  “I’ll give you another hint,” my dad said. “It’s in North Carolina.”

  “Oh, Dad! You didn’t!” I screamed. “You got us courtside seats at a University of North Carolina basketball game. You are the coolest! Go, Tar Heels!”

  I started my victory dance again, but my mom put her hand on my arm to settle me down.

  “Maybe you should just tell them, Stanley,” she said to my dad, “before their expectations get too high.” She was looking a little nervous, as if she knew something we didn’t know.

  “All right, kids,” my dad said, putting one hand around my shoulder and the other around Emily’s. “The Zipzer family is going on a road trip and heading straight for…are you ready…fasten your seat belts…the Grand National Crossword Puzzle Championship Tournament!”

  I involuntarily let out a sound. It was somewhere between a moan, a groan, and a shriek. That was followed by a big silence, and I mean a gigantic one.

  “Let me get this straight, Dad,” I said finally, “because I think my ears might have gone wacko while you were talking. They think they heard you say that we’re going to a crossword puzzle tournament. Tell them they’re wrong. Please, tell them.”

  “You heard correctly,” my dad said. “Isn’t it the most exciting idea?” He looked like a two-year-old who had just gobbled up a big chocolate birthday cake. He was smiling so big, you could see his molars, and that’s saying a lot for a guy who is not one of your world-class smilers.

  I tried to get my mouth to tell him how great it was, but it just wouldn’t cooperate. No words came out. Even my brainiac sister, Emily, was shocked into disbelief. I mean, what’s a kid supposed to say when he’s told that he’s going to spend his winter break at a crossword puzzle tournament?

  TEN THINGS TO SAY WHEN YOU’RE

  TOLD THAT YOU’RE GOING TO BE

  SPENDING YOUR WINTER VACATION AT

  A CROSSWORD PUZZLE TOURNAMENT

  1. Wow.

  2. Oh wow.

  3. Wowee wow wow wow. (Hank’s note: I’m running out of wows, so I’ll have to come up with something else.)

  4. Well, at least it isn’t a lemon-sucking tournament.

  5. Sorry, I’m allergic to crossword puzzles. Last time I tried to do one, my upper lip swelled up so much that I pulled it over my head and wore it like a hat.

  6. Excuse me? What did you say? I can’t hear you. My ears have suddenly turned into cauliflowers.

  7. I’d love to go, but I get panic attacks in large crowds of nerds who enjoy writing letters in thousands of little boxes.

  8. I have a policy that I only do crossword puzzles on the last Thursday of months beginning with X or Z.

  9. I can’t make it because I’ll be hibernating all winter, since I’m half polar bear on my mom’s side.

  10. Okay. What’s number ten? I can’t think of number ten. Let’s face it, you wouldn’t be able to either if you just found out that a crossword puzzle tournament was in your future.

  THAT LIST REALLY came in very handy. In fact, I used numbers one, two, and three on my dad right away.

  “Wow,” I said to him. “Oh wow. I mean, wowee wow wow wow.”

  That pretty much did it for the wows, and they seemed to satisfy my dad. He pulled up a kitchen chair and poured himself some Raisin Bran. All you could hear was the clock ticking on the wall above the stove and my dad crunching on his cereal. He liked to eat it before the milk made it into mush.

  “You kids are in luck,” he said, breaking the silence. “When I saw that the crossword puzzle tournament fell during your winter vacation, I said to myself, this is the chance of a lifetime for a great family road trip. Don’t you agree, Hank? Can’t you just feel the buzz of excitement?”

  “It sounds really…uh…let’s see…um…it sounds…uh…really stimulating, Dad. If you’re a crossword puzzle fan, that is.”

  “And who isn’t?” my dad asked.

  Is he kidding? I can’t even spell “neighbor” without mixing up the “i” and the “e,” let alone figure out a nine-letter word for a monkey’s belly button. All those downs and acrosses make my eyes spin. Of course, my eyes spin when I’m just reading a regular book. I think it’s fair to assume that a guy like me, with learning differences up the wazoo, is probably never ever going to shake hands with a crossword puzzle.

  “You know, Dad,” I said, clearing my bowl and putting the box of cereal back on the shelf in the pantry, “it just occurred to me that sometimes I get carsick on long trips. I’m thinking that to be sure I don’t mess up the upholstery in the minivan, maybe I’ll call Frankie and ask if I can stay with him.”

  “But you’d miss the crossword puzzle tournament,” my dad said. “Hank…it’s the Grand Nationals.”

  I didn’t know how to tell my dad that I wasn’t exactly thrilled to watch a bunch of older folks pushing their mechanical pencils around a crossword puzzle for a couple of days.

  “Hank,” my mom said, “I’ve done a little research on the Internet, and I found out that within a ten-minute drive of Dad’s tournament is some kind of roller coaster park which is supposed to be quite famous. The Colossus something…I forget the exact name.”

  My world came to an immediate stop.

  “Mom, you’re not talking about Colossus Coaster Kingdom in North Carolina, are you?”

  “Yes, honey, that’s exactly the name of it. You know about it?”

  “Are you kidding? Colossus Coaster Kingdom is world-famous. It’s got the seven biggest roller coasters in the whole United States. It’s the home of the Howling Tornado, the Tower of Fear, and the Super Duper Looper!”

  “I’m getting nauseous just thinking about them,” Emily said.

  “That’s because you don’t appreciate the fine art of roller coaster riding,” I snapped at her. “Did you know that the Super Duper Looper turns you upside down seven times within thirty-seven seconds?”

  “Like you even know how long the ride is,” Emily said.

  “I know that it wouldn’t make me throw up, unlike someone I know who tossed her cookies on the Camp Snoopy baby train at the Long Island County Fair.”

  I knew that would make her mad. Emily hates to be reminded that she’s a barfer.

  “Hey, I couldn’t help it,” she said, her face turning all red. “I had just eaten a hot dog and had a poor reaction to the very sour sauerkraut, which has been proven to be a highly difficult food to digest.”

  “Would you like to have a chance to ride those roller coasters, honey?” my mom asked me.

  “It would be a dream come true,” I said, and I meant every word.

  “Well, Hank, here’s your opportunity,” my dad added.

  “This is so cool. Frankie loves roller coasters and he’s going to be so jealous!”

  “Tell them the best part, Stanley,” my mom said with a smile.

  “Your mother and I have decided that each of you can bring one friend on the road trip!”

  “I’ll call Frankie!” I dashed for the phone. Suddenly I stopped. Frankie Townsend was my best friend, but my other best friend was Ashley Wong. What if she wanted to go, too? How could I choose just one?

  “Wait a minute. Maybe I’ll call Ashley. No, Frankie. No, Ashley. No, Frankie. I don’t know who to call.”

  “Let me stop you before your brain fries,” Emily said. “I happen to know that Ashley is going to soccer camp at the Y over winter break. She told me that when we were riding up in the elevator yesterday. So she couldn’t go, anyway.”

  “Wow, that takes the pressure off. I’ll call Frankie.”

  “And which friend are you going to bring, sweetie?” my mom asked Emily.

  “My best friend in the whole world,” she answered.

  “Oh no, not Sally Dink Dink,” I said. “She s
mells like stinky cheese.”

  “First of all, her name is Sally van Oberdink,” Emily snarled. “Her grandparents are Dutch.”

  “Oh, that’s where the cheese comes in.” I laughed. I have no idea what that meant, but it tickled me to no end.

  “And second of all, she is definitely not my best friend,” Emily went on, ignoring the fact that snorty little giggles were coming out of my nose. “But we know who is, don’t we? And here she comes now.”

  I heard a scratching on the yellow linoleum kitchen floor and looked up to see Katherine, Emily’s pet iguana, clawing her way over to us, looking very prehistoric.

  “Wait a minute, Emily,” I said. “I can’t believe you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting. You’re going to invite the lizard?”

  “Her name is Katherine,” Emily sniffed. “And you know very well she’s an iguana, Hank. She is offended by being called a lizard. Just look at how you made her eye twitch.”

  Katherine hissed at me and shot her gray tongue out so far it almost touched my new snow boots. One thing you for sure don’t want on your new snow boots is reptile saliva. I had the feeling it would eat right through the rubber.

  “Oh, excuse me, Katherine,” I said, jumping back to avoid another attack of iguana-tongue goo. “The word ‘lizard’ will never come out of my mouth again. It will be replaced by ‘the ugly slithering one’ from now on.”

  Just at that moment, Katherine lifted her upper lip, showing a few of her 180 pointy yellow teeth, and hissed again like a hungry snake.

  “I think she speaks for herself,” Emily said. “Enough said.”

  “Mom,” I pleaded. “You’re not really going to let Katherine come on our road trip. I mean, aren’t there friend rules? Like they have to have two legs. And hopefully no tail? Oh wait, that would eliminate Emily’s other friends, too.”

  “Well, I don’t see why Katherine can’t come,” my mother said. “She doesn’t eat much. She can ride in her crate. And she never argues over what radio station we’re going to listen to. What do you say, Stanley?”

  My dad wasn’t listening. He had picked up the New York Times and was busy working on the crossword puzzle as fast as he could. His stopwatch was propped up on the table.