A Brand-New Me! Read online

  “As a matter of fact, they’re on the same plane. Really, Mrs. Fink, I can’t eat right now. I have some thinking to do. I hope you understand.”

  “Thinking is good,” she said. “But eating is better.”

  I gave her a friendly wave as I opened my door. I was so determined to get to my room that I let the door slam behind me. I hoped Mrs. Fink didn’t take offense. I’d explain it to her later when I came back for the strudel. But right then, it was room, sweet room that I needed.

  I headed down the hall to my room and flung open the door. Oh boy. There it was. A sight I was definitely not expecting.

  There’s no nice way to say this, so I’m just going to come out with it. What I was staring at was my baby brother, Harry, or should we say, the bottom part of my brother, Harry. And when I say bottom, I mean bottom. He was lying on his changing table, and my mom was holding his legs straight up in the air, changing his diaper. And the aroma that came from that exact direction made the hair in my nose curl up and down so fast, it made me sneeze.

  “Bless you, Hank,” my mother said.

  I couldn’t even get a word out, I was gagging so hard. How do mothers do it? Maybe when you have a baby, your nose stops working for a year or two to let you change diapers without fainting. That had to be the case because, otherwise, my Mom would be on the floor constantly.

  “Mom, I’m begging you. Could you do that somewhere else? I really need to be alone.”

  “Just pretend we’re not here, honey,” she said.

  “I can do that with ninety-four percent of me,” I answered. “But my nose part won’t cooperate.”

  “Oh, does it smell bad in here?”

  “I need goggles and a nose plug, Mom. No offense, Harry. I know you have to do what you have to do. I just wish you didn’t have to do it in my room.”

  Wait a minute. What happens if that smell seeps into my dresser drawers and infiltrates my Mets sweatshirt? No amount of washing will return it to its wearable state.

  “How long until Harry’s potty trained, Mom? Not that I’m counting or anything.”

  “Oh, just another twenty months or so,” my mom said. “Depending on how he takes to the potty.”

  There was no depending about it. I decided right then and there that I was going to duct tape the potty to his little behind until he got the hang of it. I mean, this was my room, too, and I didn’t appreciate his fragrant contribution.

  “You look upset, Hank, honey,” my mom said. “Anything wrong?”

  I threw myself on my bed, put my hands behind my head, and sighed deeply. It was the first time I had taken a breath of any kind since the clubhouse.

  “Frankie and Ashley got into the smart kids middle school,” I said. “And in case you didn’t notice, I applied nowhere special.”

  My mom picked up Harry and carried him over to me. She sat down on the bed. Harry flashed me one of his crooked baby grins, and I couldn’t resist asking my mom if I could hold him. She handed him to me, and he started sucking on my nose. Wow, he couldn’t even tell his thumb from my nose. Obviously this kid wasn’t destined for any brainiac school, either.

  “We discussed your middle school path with Ms. Adolf,” my mom said, looking squarely at me. “And she felt that your best and only option was to proceed to MS 245 with most of the other kids from your class.”

  “So you took Ms. Adolf’s word for it?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “The only thing she’s ever recommended me for is permanent detention.”

  “Honey, I know this is hard for you, but Frankie and Ashley are really excellent students. They belong in an accelerated program.”

  “And what about me?” I asked. “Where do I belong?”

  “Okay, Hank,” she said, taking Harry back from my arms. I guess she thought he had sucked on my nose long enough. She bounced him up and down on her knee as she spoke, and he giggled like a maniac. Sure, easy for him to giggle. He hasn’t had any rejection yet in his life.

  “Let’s go through it, honey. What do we know? Well, we know that you’re a great kid, very resourceful, full of energy, and well liked by everyone. But school is hard for you. That’s just the fact.”

  There was that fact again. I hated that fact.

  “So having you apply to an accelerated program wasn’t the right decision. Even if you got in, it would be so difficult for you to keep up. You would constantly be under pressure, and your father and I didn’t want you to have that kind of stress.”

  “Thanks a lot, Mom. But that still leaves me without my two best friends, which has never happened in my whole life. Why didn’t you ask me what I wanted?”

  “Because you’re in the bottom three percent of all fifth-graders in the universe and beyond,” came a voice. Don’t worry, it wasn’t my mother. She’s nice and would never say anything like that, even if it was true.

  It was Emily, of course, who can hardly wait to tell me how inferior I am to her in every way. Apparently, while my mom and Harry and I were talking, she and her pencil-neck boyfriend, Robert Upchurch, had slithered into my room, like the three-toed tree frogs they are.

  “Emily, we’re having a private discussion here,” my mom told her.

  “As in make like a tree and leaf,” I said.

  “That’s so funny, I forgot to laugh,” Robert chimed in, as though he had just made up that phrase.

  “Thank goodness, Robert, because every time you laugh, your nose starts to drip, and I wish you wouldn’t do that on my carpet.”

  “Hank, you exaggerate so much,” Emily said. “Robert’s nose has never dripped on your carpet. The closest it ever came was that time on your desk.”

  “Eeuuwww,” I said. “Were you guys in here when I wasn’t?”

  “It’s not just your room, you know? It’s Harry’s room, too, and he said we could come in. He wanted to meet Robert.”

  I turned to Harry and said, “What were you thinking, little bro?”

  “It was a scientific meeting,” Robert said. “I’m studying the development of baby toes and fingers. See, I made this baby ruler out of construction paper. Did you know his little toe is exactly one-fourth of an inch long? I can convert that to centimeters if you’d like.”

  “Don’t twist your brain into a tizzy, Robert. I can live without that piece of information.”

  “Well, let me tell you that your brother’s toe is shorter than your mother’s fingernail. Scientifically speaking, that is.”

  “Robert, could I ask you to leave now?” I said, trying to sound polite. “And take Emily with you?”

  “We were just leaving, anyway,” said Emily. “It’s time to put Katherine down for her nap. Harry and Katherine are on the same schedule, you know?”

  “I suppose you know that the iguana eyelid moves up from the bottom to cover the top eyelid when the animal is asleep,” Robert added, as if anyone had been discussing iguana eyelids in the first place.

  “I did know that, Robert. Oh, and here’s something else I know. Wait. It’s coming into my brain. Yes, here it is! It’s time for you to leave.”

  Emily and Robert slithered out, just the same way they had slithered in. When I heard the door click behind them, I turned back to my mom.

  “So, Mom. What am I going to do?”

  “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do, honey. Tomorrow morning, I’m going to call Principal Love and have a conference to discuss where you applied and which one will be the best middle school option for Hank Zipzer.”

  “I’d like to come to that conference,” I said.

  “I’ve never heard you say that before, Hank. And I agree with you. You should be there.”

  With that, Harry decided it was time for him to get in on the action. As I tickled him under his third chin, he laughed and belched at the same time. To me, it sounded like he was agreeing that I should be at the meeting.

  Then he barfed up a little milk that landed on my jeans. I had no idea what that meant . . . except that it was time to change my jea
ns.

  CHAPTER 8

  The only good thing about the meeting with Principal Love was that I got to miss my math test. At eleven thirty, when Ms. Adolf told me it was time for me to leave class and join my parents in the school office, I jumped out of my chair, pumped my fist and shouted, “You don’t have to ask me twice!”

  “Henry,” Ms. Adolf said. “Being called to the principal’s is no cause for celebration, and absolutely no reason to be disruptive. I’ve told you over and over again, you are in great need of controlling your verbal outbursts.”

  “Come to think of it, Ms. Adolf, I was just having that very conversation with my lips and tongue.”

  The class cracked up. Ms. Adolf did not crack a smile, however. She didn’t even crack a twitch. Instead, she tapped her gray shoe on the linoleum floor and folded her gray arms on her chest so that only her gray fingers were sticking out of her gray sleeves.

  “When, and if, you advance to middle school, Henry, your childish antics will be appreciated even less.”

  “Is that even possible, Ms. Adolf?”

  I didn’t really mean to say that, either, but my lips and tongue had taken over my body.

  “Zip it, Zip,” Frankie whispered to me. “If you know what’s good for you.”

  “I’m trying,” I whispered back.

  “Henry,” Ms. Adolf said. “I suggest you remove yourself from my room before I am forced to give you even more detention than you have already.”

  I started to leave the room, with a bounce in my step and a tip in my toe, until I heard her parting words.

  “It will be my pleasure to have your makeup math test waiting for you at lunch today.”

  Wow, couldn’t that woman ever lighten up? I mean, I was on my way to the principal’s office to discuss my entire future. That was no time to be thinking about decimal points.

  As I walked downstairs to the office, I was suddenly struck with a bolt of panic. What if Ms. Adolf followed me to middle school like she did from fourth grade to fifth grade? Wait a minute. What if she follows me to high school? What if she’s at my wedding? What if she’s my bride? When the vision of her standing there in her gray wedding dress popped into my brain, I knew it was time to go to the water fountain and splash my face.

  I was drying my face off with my shirt sleeve as I entered the outer office where Mrs. Crock, the school secretary, sits at her computer and usually has a plastic bowl of soggy salad. I checked out her desk. Yup, there it was. From the smell of it, I could tell it was her red onion day. Those were the days you liked to talk to her from a good distance if you wanted to stay out of her toxic breath zone. Once, when I got too close to her on red onion day, I walked into the office wearing a long-sleeved shirt and left with a short-sleeved shirt.

  My parents were already sitting on the blue plastic chairs in the office, waiting for me. That was no surprise. They tend to be prompt for meetings in the principal’s office.

  But what was a surprise were the people Principal Love was escorting out of his office. None other than Nick the Tick McKelty and his dad. McKelty’s dad must have made him comb his hair for the occasion. Instead of it looking like a rat’s nest, it looked like he had used a can of axel grease to hold it down. With his hair slicked back, you could see his whole face, which took up most of the room. His cheeks were so large, you could play tennis on them.

  “Hey, Zipperbutt,” McKelty said under his breath. “What’s a loser like you doing here?”

  “Same thing as a loser like you,” I whispered back to him.

  “No way,” he spit back.

  I ducked to avoid a wad of saliva that flew out of his mouth. McKelty is a projectile speaker, which means you always have to watch very carefully because you never know what’s going to come spewing out of his mouth when he talks. You can bet it’s never going to be anything good, though, unless you happen to like getting six-month-old crusted mac ’n’ cheese pellets plastered on your face.

  “My dad and the principal just made a phone call about my future,” he went on. “Looks like I’m going to a special studies program right inside the White House. The president himself is begging for me.”

  There it was. The McKelty Factor . . . truth times one hundred. Except this time, it was more like truth times a million.

  “McKelty, if you go anywhere near the White House, they would arrest you for being the national creep you are.”

  “I know you are, but what am I?” he said.

  “Nice comeback, as always,” I said. “You certainly are on top of your game.”

  My dad, who noticed us talking, smiled and put a hand on my shoulder.

  “It’s nice to see you boys are such good friends,” he said. “Our family has certainly enjoyed many hours of bowling at your family’s bowling alley, Nick.”

  “Don’t I know that!” Mr. McKelty said. “Randi, your dad still holds the record for the highest scorer in our senior league. He’s just gotten a silver pass for a lifetime of free root beer.”

  That seemed to make my mom really happy.

  I wondered how such a nice guy like Mr. McKelty could have produced such a mutant excuse for a son.

  “I can see you in my office now,” Principal Love said, turning to my parents. “And Mr. McKelty, thank you for coming in. I think Nicholas will really enjoy MS 245.”

  Oh, this was a great moment. I had Nick the Tick right where I wanted him.

  “Nick!” I said, in a voice filled with surprise. “You had a choice between studying in the White House and MS 245 . . . and you chose to hang with us? Wow! I think I speak for the entire student body . . . we are so grateful!”

  Mrs. Crock almost spit out her mouthful of leafy greens. My parents looked at each other, very confused. The Statue of Liberty mole on Principal Love’s cheek started to twitch, getting ready to do the hula. Only Mr. McKelty could find the words to speak.

  “Nick,” he said, giving the Tick a harsh look, which was fun to see. “You haven’t been making up outrageous stories again, have you?”

  If I had a mouthful of leafy greens, I would have spit them out, too.

  “No, Dad. I always tell the truth.”

  “Yeah,” I said before my brain could stop my lips and tongue. “Truth times one hundred.”

  There it was. Finally out in the open.

  “Nick’s had a problem with that ever since he was little,” his dad said.

  It’s a good thing I got control of my mouth area, because otherwise I would have said, “No kidding? Was he ever little?”

  Mr. McKelty did not seem happy.

  “Nick, we’d better get going,” he said. “We don’t want to keep the Zipzers from their meeting. Besides, you and I are going to have a little conversation about consequences.”

  “Dad, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’ll have plenty of opportunity to think about what I said while you’re grounded in your room for the next two weeks.”

  That was music to my ears. No matter what was going to happen in Principal Love’s office in the next few minutes, nothing could top that moment. It was one of the ten greatest sentences I could ever have heard.

  CHAPTER 9

  THE OTHER NINE GREATEST SENTENCES I COULD EVER HAVE HEARD

  1. Mr. Zipzer, your private roller coaster is ready for you now.

  2. We’re sorry to inform you that your sister, Emily, will have to repeat the fourth grade because she failed math, science, language arts, and she really sucked at spelling.

  3. Ms. Adolf will no longer be teaching at PS 87 due to her decision to ride a barrel over Niagara Falls.

  4. The Mets baseball organization is happy to inform you that you have been drafted and will start at first base in the World Series.

  5. Hi, Hank, it’s Katie Sperling. Would you like to go to the movies Saturday afternoon . . . my treat?

  6. I can’t really focus on Number Six now because my head is still back with Katie Sperling, who is only the most beautiful girl in
PS 87.

  7. Okay, I’m better now.

  8. Hi, Hank, it’s Mom. I just bought a butt gadget which we can attach to Harry that will make his diapers smell like movie popcorn.

  9. Your sister’s iguana, Katherine, has just bought a plane ticket back to Brazil . . . one way.

  10. Hank, your mother and I are so proud of you.

  CHAPTER 10

  Ten minutes later, as we sat there listening to Principal Love drone on about my past, present, and future, I snuck a glance over at my dad and noticed that his left eye was starting to droop, which meant his right eye was not far behind. Principal Love has that effect on people—he’s like a human sleeping pill. I watched my dad struggling to stay awake, and wanted to burst out laughing, but for one of the first times in my life, I actually exercised self-control.

  Here, judge for yourself. This is what Principal Love was saying. See if you can stay awake.

  “I believe that MS 245 is a fine choice for Hank, who is, as we’ve noted, a student with no particular outstanding educational characteristics. Of course, I think we can all agree that outstanding educational characteristics are rare, as characteristics go, and they include computing, compiling, synthesizing, constructing, deconstructing, and, of course, pasting. Good use of scissors and glue never hurts. In my own educational experience, I happened to excel at all fine motor skills, and I notice that those very same skills seem to provide Hank’s fingers with an enormous challenge.”

  So this is a test, guys. Anyone still awake out there? If you are, you’re a better, stronger person than my dad, who by now, had both eyes shut tight and was one second away from his chin smashing down on his chest. My mom had somehow managed to stay awake, and even got a word or two in.

  “But surely, Principal Love,” she said. “You have to agree that Hank has so many special qualities, also.”

  “Indeed I do agree, Mrs. Zipzer. Your son has a wonderful sense of humor . . . that he consistently uses at inappropriate times.”