The World's Greatest Underachiever and the Parent-Teacher Trouble Page 3

  “Zengawii,” Frankie said. “Just like magic.”

  Frankie is a great magician, and zengawii is his special magic word. He uses it to make spongy rubber balls disappear or to pull scarves out of his sleeve. Boy, how I wished it would work to make my parent-teacher meeting disappear.

  Ashley twirled her ponytail round her finger, like she does when she’s thinking.

  “I have an idea,” she said. “Why don’t you just say: ‘Hey, Mum and Dad, would you mind skipping that meeting with my teacher? Just do it for me, would you?’”

  “I could ask them,” I said. “It could work.”

  “Right, and my name is Bernice,” Frankie answered.

  “Come on, Frankie,” Ashley said, popping a peanut-butter-and-jam sandwich into her mouth. “Let’s put our heads into this. The three of us can think of some way to keep Hank’s parents from seeing Ms Adolf.”

  “We could spray Ms Adolf with invisible ink,” I said. “Then she’d disappear, and when my parents go to the meeting, all they’d see is an empty chair.”

  “OK, dude,” Frankie said. “It’s finally happened. You’ve seen one too many action cartoons.”

  OK, I had to give him that. The invisible ink idea was lame. I shoved my brain into action. I stared at the window above the kitchen sink. A teapot sat on the windowsill. Ashley’s family always has tea with their dinner. I like that. It feels warm and comforting.

  Man, it was quiet in there.

  No, it wasn’t.

  In the silence, I became aware that the radio was on. It had been on the whole time. We always listen to Cousin Ralphie’s Top Forty Hour on WFUN, ninety-nine point ten FM on the radio.

  And believe it or not, it was Cousin Ralphie who had the idea that was going to save my life.

  “Cousin Ralphie!” I shouted, springing up from Ashley’s bright red kitchen table. “I know you can’t hear me, but you’re the man, and I’m your biggest fan!”

  I dropped to the kitchen floor and started rolling around on Ashley’s pink-and-white speckled lino. It’s a good thing Grandma Wong had left the kitchen to watch the one show that she never misses during the day, SpongeBob SquarePants. I know it might seem weird for a seventy-six-year-old lady to love SpongeBob, but some things you just can’t explain. SpongeBob tickles her funny bone.

  “Zip, are your trousers on fire, or have you just totally lost your mind?” Frankie asked.

  “My mind is on fire,” I answered. “Cousin Ralphie has just delivered the answer to all my problems.”

  “I don’t get it,” Ashley said. “All he said was that the fifteenth caller who can name ten American cities with the word ‘rock’ in them wins a trip to Philadelphia for the opening concert of Stone Cold Rock.”

  “True, Ash, but you’re leaving out the most important point. The date.”

  “May 24th and 25th,” Frankie said. “What’s the big deal about that?”

  “Frankie, my man,” I said, getting up from the floor. “When exactly is the fourth-grade parent-teacher day?”

  “This Friday. Today is Tuesday. So what’s that make Friday? May…”

  “How does the 25th sound?” I asked, grinning like a mouse that had just eaten a giant piece of Swiss cheese.

  “OK,” Ashley said. “So Stone Cold Rock is opening the same time as the parent-teacher day. How does that help you?”

  “Guess who’s going to win the contest and send his parents to the opening?” I said.

  “Where did Cousin Ralphie say the concert was?” Ashley asked.

  “Philadelphia,” I said. “And even though I’m not a geography expert, let me point out one thing: people who are in Philadelphia cannot be in New York attending a parent-teacher meeting. It’s a known fact.”

  “Zip, this plan might actually have possibilities,” Frankie said. That was a big compliment coming from him, because Frankie is a plan-making genius.

  “Philadelphia, City of Brotherly Love!” I hollered, drumming out a beat on Ashley’s kitchen table. “Roll out the welcome mat because here come Stan and Randi Zipzer.”

  Ashley went into action as only she can do. When there’s something that has to be done, you want Ashley Wong to be in charge. She’s all business.

  “What caller did Cousin Ralphie say would get a chance to win the contest?” she asked.

  “I think he said the fifteenth.”

  She turned the radio up loud.

  “That was the third caller,” Cousin Ralphie announced. “Let’s take a break and hear from the good folks at Gristediano’s Market, where the shelves are full and that’s no lie.”

  “We’ve got to move fast,” Ashley said. She grabbed a piece of paper from the kitchen sideboard and picked up a pencil.

  “I need ten cities with the word ‘rock’ in them,” she said. “Quick.”

  “Little Rock, Arkansas,” Frankie said.

  “That’s one,” Ashley said, writing it down at the top of the list.

  “Come on, guys,” I said. “Only nine more to go.”

  “What about Rockville Centre, Long Island?” Ashley said.

  “Excellent,” I said. “Write it down. Only eight more.”

  My friends know that when it comes to writing things down fast, they’d better not count on me to write it down accurately. I’m not exactly Mr Accurate.

  There was a pause. I noticed that we were all silent. I wasn’t liking the silence. I looked over at Frankie.

  “Name a couple more,” I coaxed him.

  “I’m all out, man,” he said, shaking his head. “No ideas.”

  “Me neither,” Ashley said.

  “There’s only one person we know who can spit out eight cities with the word ‘rock’ in them, and I think we all know who I’m talking about,” I announced.

  I was thinking, of course, of Robert Upchurch, who hibernates in his flat on the third floor of our building – that is, when he’s not hanging out with my nerdball sister. Even though he is only a third-grader, Robert is a walking encyclopedia. That kid has so much information crammed into his bony little skull, sometimes I think he has a computer for a brain.

  Frankie, Ashley and I try to keep our distance from Robert, because he wants to be our best friend. When you least expect it, he wakes up from hibernation and attaches himself to you like a garden snail. He’s that slimy, too. His nose produces more mucus than all the noses in the entire state of Louisiana. For his birthday, his mum buys him a crate of Kleenex and he needs another crate by Christmas. He’s got slightly used, super-absorbent Kleenex wadded up in every pocket of his clothes, and don’t even ask what’s living in the little compartments of his rucksack.

  Robert’s best friend happens to be my sister, Emily, who doesn’t seem to mind his leaky nasal tap. That’s because she is queen of the nerds herself. They both love her pet iguana, Katherine, and can spend hours discussing the different feel of lizard skin in all four seasons.

  “Dude,” Frankie said. “This is a serious decision. We get Robert and he’s going to think we want to be best friends. We’ll never shake him.”

  “Guys, do we have a choice?” Ashley asked. “No, we don’t. They’re probably on the fifth caller. Let’s get Robert now.”

  “He’s in my flat, hanging out with Emily,” I said. “I’ll call him.”

  I dialled my number. It rang four times. Then I heard my sister’s voice on our answering machine.

  “This is the Zipzer residence, home of Stan, Randi, Hank, Emily and Katherine Zipzer. Please leave a message and the name of your favourite reptile after the beep.”

  “Hank Zipzer,” I said into the phone. “And I don’t have a favourite reptile. I think they’re all scaly and creepy.”

  I hung up.

  “So they’re not home?” Ashley asked. “I thought you said Robert was there.”

  “He is,” I answered. “My dad’s just not picking up the phone. He doesn’t even hear it sometimes when he’s in the middle of a really intense crossword puzzle.”

 
; Ashley threw on her baseball cap and bolted for the door.

  “Come on, guys,” she said. “No time for the lift. We’re taking the back stairs.”

  Ashley’s flat is on the fourth floor, and I live on the tenth. We dashed out of her flat and ran up the six flights to my floor. When we got to my floor, I pulled my key out of my pocket, but I was so nervous, I couldn’t get it in the keyhole.

  “Here, give me that,” Frankie said, and he grabbed the key from me and stuck it into the lock. He tried to turn it, but the door didn’t open.

  “Are you sure this is the right key?” he asked.

  “I’ll take it from here,” I said. Every lock has a little secret, and the thing about ours is that after you put the key in, you have to pull it out just a fraction of a smidgen before you turn it. I did that, and the door opened.

  My dad was sitting there at the dining-room table. He’s a computer consultant, so he works at home a lot. He likes that because he can hang out in his boxers and do crossword puzzles whenever he gets bored. He’s kind of a crossword-puzzle genius, if there is such a thing.

  “Hi, kids,” he said, barely looking up from his newspaper. “What’s the rush?” He was wearing the blue boxers with the sailing boats that matched his favourite metallic blue mechanical pencil, which was stuck behind his ear.

  “Hi, Dad,” I called back.

  I knew I didn’t really have to answer his question, because he had that “I’m deep into finding a seven-letter name for a province in South Korea” expression on his face.

  We whizzed down the hall and flew into my sister Emily’s room, where I knew the nerd and nerdette would be hanging out. When I came flying into the room, I never expected to see what I saw. Robert and Emily were hunched over Katherine, who was lying across them both, her scaly ugly head resting in Emily’s scaly, ugly lap. Robert handed an eyedropper filled with what looked and smelled like chicken soup to Emily, who then squirted the yellow liquid into Katherine’s mouth.

  “Don’t you guys knock?” Emily said. “Katherine’s not feeling well.”

  “Really? She doesn’t look any worse than usual,” I said.

  “Hank, you have no sensitivity to the iguana world.”

  “Emily, it really hurts me to hear you say that,” I said, clutching my heart like she was breaking it.

  “Hank, this is no time for sarcasm,” Ashley said.

  “You’re right,” I said. “Ash, turn on the radio and see what caller we’re up to. Robert, get your brain over here. We need it.”

  Ashley switched the radio from Emily’s country music station (I told you she was weird) to WFUN. Cousin Ralphie was just saying that the twelfth caller had phoned.

  “Great,” I said. “We still have four callers left.”

  “Make that three, Zip,” Frankie whispered. “Fifteen minus twelve is three.”

  Frankie knows that maths and I don’t party together much, and he’s really nice about not embarrassing me in public. If Emily had noticed me make that mistake, I would have never heard the end of it. Emily doesn’t make maths mistakes or any other kind of mistakes, either. She is a Super Brain.

  “Robert,” I said. “We need eight cities that have the word ‘rock’ in them, not counting Little Rock and Rockville Centre. Can you do it?”

  Robert nodded.

  “Of course,” he said. “I can also name forty countries that produce wheat.”

  “This isn’t show-off time, little man,” Frankie said. “Stick to the basics.”

  Ashley was already dialling the phone number. I had forgotten to write down Cousin Ralphie’s number, but Ashley had it in her head. Thank goodness. It’s times like these that really frustrate me. Sometimes I just don’t like my brain.

  “Robert,” I said as Ashley dialled the last number. “Are you sure you can do this?”

  “Of course I can,” he said. “I can do it as sure as there are thirteen characters in the ancient Hawaiian alphabet.”

  “How do you fit all those facts in that pinhead of yours?” Frankie asked.

  “Shhhh … it’s ringing,” Ashley said, shoving the phone into my hand.

  “Cousin Ralphie’s Top Forty Hour,” a voice said on the other end of the phone.

  I couldn’t believe it. It was Cousin Ralphie in my actual ear. We’d got through!

  “Congratulations, you’re the fifteenth caller!” he said. “Name ten cities with the word ‘rock’, and you’ll be the lucky winner. On your marks. Get set. Go!”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but only a tiny squeak came out.

  Frankie saw the panic in my eyes. “Breathe, Zip,” he said. “Oxygen is power.”

  I took a deep breath and tried again. I still sounded like there was a chipmunk stuck in my throat, but at least a sound came out.

  “Little Rock,” I yipped. “And Rockville Centre.”

  “That’s two!” Cousin Ralphie hollered. “Eight more to go.”

  Ashley tapped Robert on the back. “You’re on, genius,” she said.

  “Rockford, Nebraska,” Robert whispered to me, and I repeated it into the phone.

  “This kid’s good,” said Cousin Ralphie with a smile in his voice. “Lay on some more.”

  “Keep going, Robert,” said Ashley.

  “Blowing Rock, North Carolina. Rock Island, Illinois. Castle Rock, Colorado,” Robert said, and I repeated each one to Cousin Ralphie. I put my hand over the phone and whispered to Frankie, “How many is that?”

  “You’ve got six,” Cousin Ralphie answered.

  We all stared at Robert. He just stared back at us.

  “I’m thinking, I’m thinking,” he whined in his nasal, little voice.

  “How about Rock City, Alabama,” Emily said. “Remember, that’s where I threw up clam chowder in the motel pool when we were driving to Florida.”

  I was pretty disgusted by the memory, but I was glad she came up with it. I repeated it to Cousin Ralphie.

  “That’s seven,” he said. “But I hear you slowing down.”

  “Not me, sir,” I said.

  “I have thousands more.”

  Frankie looked at me like I was crazy. Robert was squeezing his nose and closing his eyes really tight. “Rock Springs, Wyoming,” he spat out like his face was going to explode. “And there’s another Little Rock in Iowa.”

  I repeated those two to Cousin Ralphie. Even he was pretty impressed.

  “That’s nine, young man. I need one more, and you’re on your way to the Stone Cold Rock opening night concert. And did I tell you you’re riding on the band’s personal tour bus?”

  I looked over at Robert. He looked stuck.

  “Dig deep, little man,” Frankie said to him. “We need you now.”

  Robert’s whole body twisted from side to side. He looked like a baby chick hatching from an egg – you know, when they come out all wet and skinny and scraggly-looking. It felt like hours were going by.

  “Time is running out,” Cousin Ralphie said on the other end of the phone. “Are you still there, caller?”

  Suddenly, Robert’s face turned bright red. “Red Rock, Ontario,” he said.

  Without waiting even half a second, I repeated what he’d said.

  “Red Rock, Ontario!” I screamed into the phone.

  There was a pause.

  “I’m so sorry,” Cousin Ralphie began, “Red Rock, Ontario, is in Canada.”

  “Which is just what I was going to point out,” I said, “that Red Rock, Ontario, is a lovely spot, but unfortunately it isn’t the one I was going to say because we all know that Canada is not a state in the United States. It’s its own, Canada.”

  OK, I was stalling. Wouldn’t you if your whole educational future was riding on this one answer?

  Robert shook his head. “I’m sorry, Hank. I’m rocked out.”

  I looked desperately at Ashley. She shook her head and Frankie did too. They had nothing. It was up to me. My mind ran over every city we had mentioned. We had all kinds of rocks – a blowing r
ock, a red rock, a little rock. Hey, why not? I took a chance.

  “Big Rock!” I guessed.

  I held my breath.

  “Good answer!” Cousin Ralphie called out. “What is your name, son?”

  “Hank Zipzer.”

  “Well, pack your bags, Hank Zipzer, because you are on your way to Philadelphia.”

  “Actually, Cousin Ralphie, I want to give the trip to my parents, Stan and Randi Zipzer. They really deserve some quality time together.”

  “Your parents? Are they Stone Cold Rock fans?”

  “Are they ever! My dad sings every one of their songs in the shower at least three times a week. He especially likes ‘I Was a Dirt Bag ’Til I Found My Soap.’ ”

  “He must be a real rocker, that Stan Zipzer,” Cousin Ralphie said.

  “Oh, yes, he is, sir,” I said. “He couldn’t be more of a rocker.”

  “Stay right where you are, kid,” Cousin Ralphie said. “We’re going to adverts, and when we come back, I’ll tell you all about the fabulous trip you’ve won for your parental unit.”

  Just then, the door to my sister’s room swung open and my dad came in. I looked at him in his blue boxers, with the mechanical pencil stuck behind his ear. His hair was standing straight up from his head and his newspaper was still folded to the crossword-puzzle page.

  “Any of you kids know an eight-letter synonym for an extinct rodent?” he asked. “I tried pocket rat, but it doesn’t fit.”

  That’s my dad, I thought. A real rocker.

  I covered the phone with my hand and whispered to my dad.

  “Give me a second, Dad, and we’ll get you the answer you’re looking for, I promise.”

  My dad wasn’t getting the hint that I wanted him to leave.

  “Robert,” he said. “You’re usually full of information. Any ideas?”

  “Actually, Mr Zipzer, my special knowledge is in the reptile world rather than the rodent world, although I once did a report on the life cycle of the black-tailed prairie dog and found it quite fascinating,” he replied.

  “Yeah, Dad,” I said, trying to edge him towards the door. “Robert’s a snake-iguana kind of guy, not a mouse-rat-gerbil kind of guy.”