Bookmarks Are People Too! Page 2

  “Aqua Fly,” I muttered. “I’m an excellent buzzer.”

  Ashley pushed her purple glasses back on her nose and laughed.

  “You are such a crack-up,” she said, holding up her hand for a high five.

  “Thanks,” I said. I have to admit, I was beginning to like Ashley, even if she was a girl.

  “Check it out, guys,” Ashley said, continuing to turn the pages. Unlike me, she seemed to be able to read at lightning speed. “This part is totally me—the zombie from My Babysitter Is a Zombie. I have a great zombie walk.”

  She jumped to her feet and held her arms out in front of her body. Then she staggered around the clubhouse, bumping into dusty boxes, old lamps, and piles of clothes. Each time she hit something, she let out a long moan. All of a sudden, she turned to Frankie and me and pulled down on her eyes so you could see the icky red part inside.

  “Zombie attack!” she screeched, lunging forward until she fell on the couch in a heap, laughing her head off. Frankie and I held our sides and howled, too.

  And just like that, Ashley Wong became one of us.

  The three of us spent all weekend working on the play. Sometimes we were each in our own apartments. Sometimes we met in the clubhouse.

  Of course, we took breaks. On Saturday, we went to Riverside Park for a snowball fight. Unfortunately, we ran into Nick the Tick McKelty there. When Frankie and I introduced him to Ashley, the first thing he did was make fun of her purple glasses.

  Right away, McKelty found out that wasn’t such a great idea when she whacked him on the nose with a snowball. It turns out Ashley Wong has the arm of a shortstop.

  “Hey!” McKelty yelled, a clump of snow sliding down into his mouth. “Nobody messes with me.”

  “I just did,” Ashley said. “You can make fun of my glasses all you want. But they helped me see well enough to hit you smack in the nose.”

  That shut him up. But Ashley wasn’t finished.

  “And as you can see,” she added, “there is plenty more snow left.”

  McKelty had no comeback to that. He just ran off whimpering like a hurt puppy.

  On Monday morning, my mom walked Frankie, Emily, and me to school. As we left the apartment, we ran into Ashley and her mom, who were on their way to school, too.

  “Hello, I’m Dr. Wong,” Ashley’s mother said, extending her hand to my mom.

  “So nice to meet you,” my mom answered. “I’m Randi Zipzer. Silly me. When I saw Dr. Wong written on your mailbox, I thought it was your husband.”

  “He is Dr. Wong. And so am I.”

  “So your parents are Dr. Wong and Dr. Wong?” Emily asked.

  “Exactly,” Ashley said. “And they want me to be a doctor when I grow up, too. Then we’ll be Dr. Wong, Dr. Wong, and Dr. Wong. But I think that’s just wrong.”

  Frankie and I cracked up.

  As we all headed up 78th Street toward Amsterdam Avenue, Ashley asked Frankie if he was ready for the audition.

  “Sure,” he said. “I have my script right here in my backpack with my lines highlighted in yellow.”

  Script! Did he say script? Oh no. Where was my script? Suddenly, I couldn’t remember where I’d put it. Was it in my backpack? Or did I leave it on the breakfast table next to the cereal box? I closed my eyes and tried to remember. As usual, my brain came up blank.

  “Hold it, everyone,” I said. “Stop right where you are.”

  I spun around so my back was facing Frankie.

  “Unzip my backpack,” I asked him. “And please tell me my script is in there.”

  I could feel Frankie tugging on the zipper. Then I could feel his hand rummaging around inside.

  “Is it there?” I asked.

  “Give me a minute, Hankster. I’m still digging my way through the cookie crumbs and bubble-gum wrappers. Don’t you ever clean this thing out?”

  “This is not the time to talk about neatness, Frankie.”

  “But it is the time to tell you that there is no script in here.”

  “You forgot it?” Emily, the Perfect One, said. “Honestly, Hank, we should put a Post-it note on your forehead.”

  “I have to go back and get it,” I said.

  “There isn’t time, Hank,” my mom said, checking her watch.

  “Yeah,” Emily piped up. “Just because the only thing you remember to pack are cookie crumbs, doesn’t mean I have to be late for school.”

  “Emily, did anyone ever tell you your braids are too tight?” I snapped.

  “Don’t worry about it, dude,” Frankie said before Emily could answer. “You can use my script when it’s your turn to audition.”

  “But mine was all highlighted and everything.”

  “I’ll highlight your lines in blue when we get to school,” Frankie told me. “I’ll be yellow, you’ll be blue.”

  “Hey, together you’ll make green,” Ashley said.

  As we started walking toward school, I could feel my mother’s hand on my shoulder. I hoped she wasn’t going to lecture me. I was already very upset about forgetting my script. And I was nervous about the audition, too. The last thing I needed was a lecture.

  “I know this is the last thing you need . . . ,” my mom began.

  Oh no, here it comes.

  “But we have to talk about you being better organized, Hank,” she continued. “We’ve gone over this many times.”

  “I try, Mom. I really do. But every time I think I’m organized, it turns out that I’m not. I don’t get it.”

  “You have to focus,” she said. “Your mind is running all over the place.”

  She was right. I needed to focus. And at that moment, the thing I needed to concentrate on was the audition. I made my brain focus on Aqua Fly. I forced it to buzz. I imagined that I was a superhero. I thought superhero thoughts.

  I was so focused I didn’t see the patch of ice on the sidewalk in front of me. I stepped on it and slid about four feet before falling on my butt. One leg headed north, and the other one headed south. My hat flew off and landed in a puddle.

  I just sat on the ground, feeling the icy water soaking into the seat of my pants. And let me tell you this: I never felt less like a superhero in my whole life.

  I spent morning recess standing as close as I could to the heater in Principal Love’s office. I wasn’t in any trouble. It’s just that he happens to have the most powerful heater in my school. I didn’t care where I was. I just wanted to unfreeze my underpants from my butt. Trust me, it’s no fun having icicles in your tighty-whities.

  When the bell rang, I checked my bottom. It was warm and mostly dry. As I hurried for the door, Principal Love tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Your hat, Hank,” he said, handing me my damp blue knit cap. “Is there anything you don’t forget?”

  “I never forget my birthday, Principal Love.”

  “Hank, always remember these words: Being forgetful puts you on the road to nowhere.”

  That didn’t make any sense.

  “Principal Love, can I ask you a question? How can there be a road to nowhere? I mean, isn’t nowhere nowhere?”

  “You’ll understand what I’m talking about when you’re my age,” he said. He licked two fingers and slicked down the single strand of hair on his bald head.

  Holy cow. I hope when I’m his age, I have more hair.

  I got to class just as the bell rang. Ms. Flowers had already listed everybody’s name on the blackboard. Next to each name was a blank space where she would write what part each person was chosen to play.

  “Okay, class,” Ms. Flowers began. “I know you’re all nervous. But there’s no need to be. Just do the best you can. Let’s start with our newest student, Ashley Wong. She was lucky enough to be able to go over the script this weekend with some new friends she made.”

  Ashley smiled at Frankie
and me.

  “Everyone say, ‘Welcome, Ashley,’” Ms. Flowers continued.

  We did. Then Ashley walked up to the front of the class, dragging a leg zombie-style behind her. She went right into her babysitter zombie performance.

  “Listen, kids,” she moaned to three imaginary children. “Don’t worry about my eyeball dropping to the ground. I’ll pick it up later.”

  Everyone laughed and applauded. Ashley took a bow and sat down.

  “Excellent,” Ms. Flowers said. “I see we have a little actress among us. What a great way to start off our auditions.”

  Luke Whitman went next. He set a new low on the disgusting scale when he made a volcano erupt through his nose. Halfway through, Ms. Flowers had to send him to the nurse’s office for emergency nose repair.

  Katie Sperling did a great job playing a pop-up book. Every time she turned a page, she jumped so high her pigtails stood straight up.

  But the best of everyone was Frankie playing the part of Barry. He had memorized every line, and there were a lot of them. When he pretended to fall asleep, it was so real you actually thought he was dreaming. I clapped like crazy when he was done. Everyone joined in. We all knew there was no one else that could play Barry.

  Then it was my turn.

  “Hank, what part have you chosen to audition for?” Ms. Flowers asked.

  “Aqua Fly,” I answered.

  My heart was thumping as I walked to the front of the class, holding Frankie’s script. I passed Ashley’s desk.

  “You’re going to be great,” she whispered.

  It seemed to take forever to reach the front of the room. When I got there, Ms. Flowers had to remind me to turn and face the class. I took a deep breath and looked down at the script. All I saw was a sea of blue highlights. Those were the very words I had gone over all weekend long. And I didn’t recognize one of them.

  “Hank, you can start any time you’re ready,” I heard Ms. Flowers say.

  I couldn’t read. All I could manage to do was buzz. It seemed like I buzzed for twenty minutes. Finally, Ms. Flowers interrupted my buzz fest.

  “Are you going to say any of the lines?” she asked.

  “I am saying the lines,” I answered. “I’m just doing it in fly language.”

  “Interesting,” she said. “But I really do need to hear what’s written in the script.”

  I looked at the pages again. Zero. Zippo. Nothing doing.

  I had no choice but to buzz to my seat and sit down. The audition was a total flop. My only hope of getting the part was if no one else volunteered.

  “Is there anyone else who wants to try out for Aqua Fly?” Ms. Flowers asked.

  No one answered. That was just what I was hoping for. The part was mine. Aqua Fly, here I come.

  And then, one single hand popped into the air.

  It belonged to Nick McKelty. I had no choice but to make another list in my head.

  Unfortunately for me, none of the things on my list happened. What did happen was that McKelty got the part of Aqua Fly. If you ask me, it wasn’t because he was so great. It was because, unlike me, he could read the words on the page.

  Ms. Flowers tried to be nice about it. When everyone was going to lunch, she called me up to her desk.

  “I know you tried really hard, Hank,” she said. “And for your effort, I have created a special part just for you. One that matches your talents.”

  That made me feel much better. But what part could that be? Maybe there was going to be a big clock on the library wall, and I would be the bird that popped out every hour and went cuckoo. Everyone knows I’m good at sounds.

  Or maybe I could be the library cart that gets to roll up and down the aisles. I could attach my bicycle horn and toot it to warn everyone to clear the way for me. That sounded like a lot of fun.

  “What is my part, Ms. Flowers?”

  “Well, Hank, you are going to be a bookmark.”

  “I am? What does a bookmark get to do?”

  “First of all, you have to be very quiet. And of course, your most important job will be to hold everyone’s places in their books.”

  “That doesn’t sound fun.”

  “But here’s the best part. You’ll get to wear the tallest costume of anyone, with two little holes cut out for your eyes. And a red fringe on the bottom to cover your shoes.”

  Okay, I could deal with that. The costume part sounded good. I left the classroom feeling pretty happy about my new role . . . until I walked into the lunch room. The first person I saw was McKelty, who was busy shoving tuna casserole into his face right off his tray. He wasn’t even using a fork.

  “Hey, loser,” he said, spraying little bits of fish into the air. “Too bad I beat you out for the good part.”

  “That’s okay,” I said to him. “I’m going to be a bookmark.”

  “Ha-ha-ha.” He snorted. “Don’t you get it? A bookmark doesn’t do anything. It just stands there being all bookmark-y.”

  “Oh yeah?” I answered back. “Ms. Flowers said it was a really special part.”

  “You’ll believe anything, Zipperbrain!” Then he added, “See you after lunch in rehearsal. Oh wait, you don’t have to be there. You don’t have any lines.”

  “I’ll be there,” I snapped. “I’m part of the play, too.”

  “Oh, really. Then how come your part isn’t even in the script?”

  That was a good question. I hadn’t thought of that before. Then I realized what had happened. Ms. Flowers had made up that part just for me because I can’t read very well.

  Suddenly, the smell of tuna casserole coming out of McKelty’s mouth made me feel sick to my stomach. I ran out into the hall and leaned against the wall, trying so hard not to cry. Before I knew it, Frankie and Ashley had left the cafeteria and were by my side.

  “Don’t listen to that big bully,” Ashley said. “Bookmarks are very important. I use one every day.”

  “But it’s just a tiny part,” I protested.

  “Listen, Hankster,” Frankie said. “No matter what the part is, you’re going to be great.”

  “Yeah,” Ashley chimed in. “Just wait until rehearsal. You never know what magic is going to come spilling out of that funny head of yours.”

  Suddenly I was starving, which was a sure sign that I was feeling better. Friends can do that for you.

  “Okay,” I said, heading back into the cafeteria with Frankie and Ashley by my side. “I’m going to be the best bookmark that ever held a place in a book. Look out, world, here comes Hank.”

  Oh, and by the way, about the tuna casserole: If you ever see even a glop of it on your plate, change plates. I didn’t, and my tongue is still not talking to me.

  After lunch, we went back to class. Ms. Flowers had moved all the desks into a wide semicircle, so we had the entire center of the room to rehearse our play.

  “Let’s have all people playing books stand on the left,” she said, “and everyone else on the right.”

  I followed her directions.

  “No, Hank,” Ms. Flowers said. “You’re supposed to be on the right.”

  “I know,” I answered. “That’s where I am.”

  “Hank, you are on the left side,” she explained. “Do you know which way is left and which is right?”

  “I always guess, and every now and then I’m right.”

  “Well, not this time, Zipperfang,” McKelty said with a snort. “Only a birdbrain doesn’t know right from left.”

  “You better not ruffle the feathers of this bird, McKelty!” I shot back.

  Everyone laughed, and I felt pretty good about that. The score: Hank Zipzer, one. Nick McKelty, zero.

  Ms. Flowers led me to my place. Then Frankie sat down at a table she had put in the center of the circle.

  “You may begin reading your lines,” s
he said to him. “Remember that you are alone in the library, and it’s late at night.”

  Frankie yawned and stretched.

  “‘The library is so dark and quiet when everyone is gone,’” he read. “‘It feels like a magical place where anything could happen.’”

  He put his head down on the table and pretended to fall asleep.

  “‘I wonder if I’ll dream about books,’” he muttered, just before he closed his eyes.

  “Excellent,” Ms. Flowers said. “Remember to say your lines loud enough so everyone can hear you. And now, all the children who are playing books start to come alive. Think about the title of your book, and then come up with the way you would move.”

  Instantly, Ashley went into her zombie walk. McKelty flapped his arms and started to buzz like Aqua Fly. Luke threw his arms over his head and pretended he was an erupting volcano. I was standing next to Luke, and let me tell you, this volcano never showered. When his arms went over his head, his armpits smelled like rotten bananas.

  My nose started to twitch. The hairs inside felt like they were curling up into little hair balls. Without even thinking, I moved away from him and found myself in the middle of the circle.

  “Hank,” Ms. Flowers said. “You’re playing a bookmark. You’re supposed to be in the books, not in front of them.”

  “But I’m a bookmark with a lot of personality,” I said.

  Everyone laughed again, so I started to think about what a bookmark with a lot of personality would do. He wouldn’t just sit between the pages of a book. Maybe he would wiggle his way to another page. You know, like a worm crawling around on the ground.

  As soon as that thought popped into my brain, I dropped to the floor. My body was off and wiggling across the stage area.