A Brand-New Me! (11 page)

“How cool are you, Zip,” Frankie said.

“Very cool,” I answered. “I knew I'd get in all along.”

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

“I am so happy for you, Hank,” Ashley said. “I've decided I'm going to rhinestone a baseball cap for you that says P.P.A.S.”

“P.P.A.S.?” I asked. “What does that spell?”

“Earth to Hank. It's the initials of the school you're going to . . . as in Professional Performing Arts School.”

“Right,” I said. “I knew that.”

“Yeah, and his name is Bernice,” she answered, pointing to Frankie.

The three of us cracked up, just like we'd been doing since preschool.

Before I knew it, Frankie and Ashley jumped up on the seat of one of the turquoise booths. Frankie picked up his glass of apricot-mango juice and called for everyone's attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and children of all ages,” he called out. I remember hearing a ringmaster say that at the circus when we were little. He always loved it.

“Ashley and I would like to propose a toast to our best friend, Hank ‘I'm Going Places' Zipzer. You did it, pal. You're on your way!”

“Let's hear it for Hank,” Ashley chimed in.

As I looked around the room, I saw almost everyone I knew raising their apricot-mango juice glasses toward me. I mean, everyone. There was Mr. Rock, who shot me a big thumbs-up. And Dr. Berger who looked so proud. Mrs. Fink, who had finally changed out of her bathrobe for the occasion, winked at me. And even the girls from school were there, Kim Paulson and Katie Sperling and my good friend Heather Payne.

Suddenly, Robert Upchurch, Emily's pencil-neck boyfriend, jumped up to join Frankie and Ashley on the booth seat. Of course, he fell off immediately because he is such a skinny weakling and Frankie had to pull him out from under the table. When he finally regained his balance and stood up on the booth again, he cleared his throat, which sounded like he had been keeping a small hippopotamus hidden in there, and spoke to the crowd.

“If I could just say a few words,” he began.

“Keep it to a very few, Upchurch,” Ryan called out and everyone laughed because if there's one thing Robert Upchurch can't do, it's say a short sentence.

“My first memory of Hank is when I was in kindergarten and he was in first grade,” he began. “He was eating a tuna fish sandwich in the lunchroom, and I wanted it so badly but I couldn't eat it because I'm allergic to mayonnaise.”

“Sit down, Upchurch,” Ryan called out.

I jumped up on the booth to join Robert. I knew he was trying his best to make a good speech, but the guy just couldn't get out of his own mucous.

“That was very touching, Robert,” I interrupted, helping him down off the booth seat so he wouldn't fall flat on his face again. “And speaking of touching, I am so touched that you all came to my party tonight. It's a big day for me and I want to thank you for helping me achieve this very important goal.”

I looked out into the faces, and saw Dr. and Mrs. Townsend and the good Doctors Wong smiling at me. Gosh, they had known me since I was a tiny baby. I couldn't imagine having grown up without them.

“Some people told me that I would never be a success in school,” I went on, surprising myself that I was actually making a speech. “But for the first time in my whole life, I feel like I can succeed. I really think the Professional Performing Arts School is the place for me and you're all invited to my first performance next year. But right now, it's pastrami time. What do you say, folks? Let's eat.”

It was a perfect night. I mean, think about it. I had all my friends there cheering for me. I felt really proud of what I had accomplished. And I had stuffed in as much pastrami and brown mustard as my stomach could hold.

What more could a guy want?

The next morning, I couldn't wait to get to school. I was up way before my clock radio was. Maybe for the first time in history, I was raring to get to school, because today was the day I was going to let Ms. Adolf know that everything she had ever thought about me was dead wrong. She had said to me so many times that I was never going to make something of myself that I almost started to believe it. But even though she couldn't teach me to spell or to do long division, Ms. Adolf did teach me a really important lesson which is that you have to believe in yourself and not believe what all the adults are saying about you if your feelings way down deep tell you they're wrong. You know you the best.

By seven o'clock, I was standing at the door with my sweatshirt already zipped and my backpack slung over one shoulder. The only problem was, I don't even leave until eight.

My dad came out of his bedroom, still in his pajama bottoms and T-shirt, and headed toward the kitchen. It was his turn to put out breakfast for Emily and me. When he saw me standing at the door, all dressed and ready to go, he said, “Are you real or am I dreaming you? I've never seen you up this early and ready to go unless we were going to a theme park or a Mets game.”

“That's because what I'm doing today is going to be even more fun than hanging upside down on the Cyclone Double Loop.”

“I like to hear that attitude about school,” my father said. “That's what you should have been thinking all along.”

For a minute, I had forgotten that I can't have this kind of conversation with my dad. He likes to turn every single thing into a lesson, even down to the right way to eat a black-and-white cookie. He doesn't approve of my technique, which is to try to get some chocolate and vanilla icing in every bite, so they can mix in my mouth. He says it's messy and unnecessary. Folks, I'm talking heaven and he says it's foolish.

While I was waiting for the next hour to pass, I decided to take my acceptance letter out of my backpack and read it over and over again. I think we all know that I have real trouble reading anything cold right off the page. And since I was planning to read the letter aloud to Ms. Adolf, I wanted to get it perfect. Besides, I could never get tired of hearing those two great words, “Welcome, Hank!”

I was too excited to wait until eight o'clock to leave, so I called Frankie and Ashley and told them I'd meet them in class. I got to school in record time, and by the time I reached the steps, I was out of breath. Even with that, I still had to fight the urge to shout my good news up and down the halls of every floor. It was there on my tongue, ready to shoot out of my mouth at any second. I didn't have to wait long, because the first person I ran into running up the stairs was none other than Principal Leland Love.

“Walk, young man,” he said. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“I'm so glad you asked, Principal Love. Actually, I am going to the Professional Performing Arts School. In the fall, that is. They accepted me.”

Wow, you could have knocked him over with a feather. Even the Statue of Liberty mole on his cheek looked surprised.

“Well,” he said. “That must make you feel very special.”

“As a matter of fact, it does.”

“Excellent. That is what education is intended to do . . . to guide you down life's ever winding path in a sure-footed way.”

Oh boy. I could feel it coming on. The old Principal Love speech-a-roony. I sure wasn't going to miss those at my new middle school. But he was on a roll, and I knew there was no stopping him, so I settled in for the lecture.

“Now what's important for you to remember here, Hank, is that the path presented to you is the one you need to stay on. There will be many paths leading off the main path, and you should not be tempted to take any of them. You may find many obstacles along the path, let's call them boulders, and you must find a way to step over them without stubbing your toe.”

“Don't you worry about that, Principal Love. I'm getting a new pair of shoes before school starts.”

“Yes, of course. Good idea. Now . . . just remember this. As you trudge down life's path, keep your head up, your eyes forward, your throat cleared, and your walking stick handy.”

“I'm going to write that down as soon as I get to my classroom,” I said. “And hang it up over my desk at home.”

Principal Love seemed pretty pleased with that and with our conversation in general, so I used that as an opportunity to skedaddle out of there. Knowing him, that life path lecture could have gone on all summer. And I had a very important thing left to do upstairs.

As I walked up the stairs, it suddenly occurred to me that my days of walking up these steps that I knew so well were coming to an end. I wondered what I would think if I ever came back here after I was all grown up. Hmmm. The first thing I'd think was that there was a lot of chewing gum stuck on the back side of the railing. And then, I'd probably think that these stairs led me to Ms. Adolf's classroom, two years in a row . . . lucky me . . . which was always a really difficult place for me.

She was sitting at her desk, red pencil in hand, grading papers. That must be her favorite thing to do, since she seems to spend twenty-four hours a day doing it.

“Hi, Ms. Adolf,” I said. “Am I disturbing you?”

“Only slightly,” she answered without even looking up from her desk. “What is it, Henry?”

Wow, a second ago, I had been feeling on top of the world. Now, I was feeling unbelievably nervous. That woman could pop a balloon without a pin.

“I just wanted to share with you . . . well, actually, read a letter to . . . that I thought you might really like.”

“If you must,” she said, taking off her gray glasses and staring at me with her gray eyes. “And what does this letter say that is so important?”

I cleared my throat, stood as tall as I was ever going to get, and started reading.

“Dear Hank. It was a real pleasure for—”

She stopped me mid-sentence and held out her gray hand.

“Let me see that letter, please,” she said.

I handed it to her, but I was still in shock. She didn't even let me get the first sentence out. And, I had practiced all morning.

She read the letter without saying a word, but I noticed that her eyebrows went up in surprise, but just for a moment. I took a breath, waiting for her to respond. Would she say, “Congratulations”? Or would she say, “I'm happy for you, Hank”? Or maybe she'd say, “You finally did it, Hank.”

None of that came out of her mouth. Instead, she swooped up her red pencil, and started marking up the letter.

“Who are these people?” she said. “Definitely not educators of any reputation. They left out two commas, a period, and a capital letter at the beginning of the third sentence.”

I know. You think I'm kidding. But I'M NOT.

That gray faced woman sat there correcting my acceptance letter with a big, fat, great cloud hanging over her gray bun.

“Ms. Adolf, may I have my letter back, please? I'd like to read you just one sentence from it because you might have missed it. Here . . . it says, we loved your imagination and positive spirit, and we are
happy
to offer you a spot in our middle school class.”

“Well, I hope when you get there, you remind those free-spirited people that the English language has rules, and commas are an important part of those rules.”

“Ms. Adolf, they are really good teachers there. They know all about my learning challenges, and they still want me. They looked at all of me, not just where I put my commas.”

“Then it sounds like you and they will be a perfect match.”

With that, she stood up and walked toward me. I had no idea what she was about to do. She reached out to me and touched my shoulder, and then she touched the other one. And then, she gave me the stiffest, boniest, grayest hug I'd ever received in my entire life.

“Good luck to you, young man,” she said. Then she turned, sat down at her desk, picked up her red pencil and went back to work.

She never looked up again.

At seven o'clock in the morning on a Monday in September, Frankie, Ashley, and I met in the lobby. That was normal. We all had our new backpacks for the first day of school. That was normal. Then we headed down 78th Street toward Broadway, in the opposite direction of PS 87. That was not normal. That was brand-new.

When we reached the stop for the Broadway bus, I turned to them and didn't know exactly what to say.

“So . . . this is where I wait for my bus,” I finally said.

“Our subway stop is one block up,” Frankie pointed out.

We were all quiet for a minute. This was the first time in our whole lives we weren't going to school together.

“You're going to be so great, Hank,” Ashley said, all of a sudden throwing her arms around me.

“Zip, you're going to wow them,” Frankie added, joining in our three-way hug.

We just stood there holding on for a minute, like we were in a football huddle. We might have stood there forever, but my bus arrived, and the hiss of the doors opening told me it was time to go.

“We're still going to meet after school, right?” I hollered out to them as I climbed aboard.

“The clubhouse,” Frankie shouted back. “Four o'clock.”

Ashley shouted something, too, but I couldn't hear her because the bus doors slammed shut when she was still in mid-sentence.

“Put your money in the slot, son, and take a seat,” the driver said to me.

I did. And as I turned to find a seat, I saw a sea of faces looking at me. I don't know where I got the nerve, but suddenly I blurted out, “Hi, everyone. We haven't met, but we're going to see each other a lot, because I'll be taking this bus to the Professional Performing Arts School. Today's my first day. I'm Hank Zipzer, by the way.”