EllRay Jakes Is Magic (2 page)

Cynthia used to be the girl-boss of our class, but now I think Kry is, even though Kry doesn’t act like she cares about stuff like that. I think Fiona was just copying Kry when she tried to play King of the Mountain with us, like maybe she thought some of Kry’s popularity might rub off on her.

Emma McGraw and Annie Pat Masterson are the nicest girls in our third grade class, but don’t tell them I said so. It might sound weird.

I think girls are confusing.

“It’s time for you to listen,” Ms. Sanchez tells us as we accept our fate and slump into our chairs. “I
have an important announcement to make, and I want you to keep an open mind about it.”

Keep an open mind about it? This does not sound good. When grown-ups say “Keep an open mind,” they’re usually about to tell you something you don’t want to hear.

Besides, a couple of kids in our class—namely Jared and Stanley, the closest guys I have to enemies around here—already have minds that are so “open” they’re almost empty, in my opinion. For example, Stanley says there’s only one squirrel in Oak Glen, California, which is where we live. He swears that this lonely squirrel follows him around—and likes him. I think Stanley believes it because ever since he was three, his mom has said, “There’s your little squirrel friend!” whenever they see one. I’ve heard her do it.

Meanwhile, back here in class, Heather raises her hand and speaks at the same time. “Well, whatever the announcement is, I’m not doing anything that’s against my religion,” she says, sliding a glance at the rest of us—especially Cynthia—to see how we are taking this news.

Since Heather has been yapping about it so
much lately, I happen to know that she and her family started going to a new church three weeks ago.

“Nobody would dream of asking you to,” Ms. Sanchez says, her voice calm as always. “And please wait for me to call on you after you raise your hand. You know better than simply to blurt out whatever pops into your head, Miss Patton.”

My name is EllRay Jakes, but I’m “Mr. Jakes” when I mess up in class. That’s one of Ms. Sanchez’s things, to get more polite the worse we act. But we usually don’t act too bad, because we like Ms. Sanchez so much. Also, she’s the prettiest teacher at Oak Glen Primary School.

And she’s going to get married really soon! I feel funny thinking about it, but that sounds weird, too. All the parents are giving her a wedding shower late next week. They are arguing by email and phone-tree about what her present should be, and who owes what. I think they should just give Ms. Sanchez a sack of money. That’s what I’d like if I were her.

My real name is Lancelot Raymond Jakes, but everyone calls me EllRay. My mom named me Lancelot Raymond because she writes romance
stories for grown-up ladies, and she liked those two fancy names. But my name got changed to L-period-Ray for short, as soon as I got a vote, and then it turned into EllRay.

“So, here’s what’s up,” Ms. Sanchez says. “Our principal has decided that Oak Glen Primary School should have its very own talent show next week, during Friday’s assembly, which will be at two in the afternoon. He says that will help all the grades get to know each other better.”

Emma raises her hand. “But it’s already April,” she says when Ms. Sanchez calls on her. “Why do we have to get to know each other better
now
?”

Annie Pat nods.

“I don’t know,” Ms. Sanchez says, sighing as she sneaks a peek at her sparkly engagement ring—which is her hobby, I think. “Maybe he thought that things were getting a little dull around here and you kids needed something fun to grab your attention. The point is, all grade levels have to take part in the show.”

“I’m pretty sure talent shows
are
against my religion,” Heather says, shaking her head like that’s that, she’s out of this thing free and clear.

“And we’re going to need at least five volunteers from this very class for the talent show tryouts.
Five
,” Ms. Sanchez continues, as if Heather hasn’t said a word.

Okay. Keeping an open mind about this is gonna be
hard.

“Corey can swim for everyone,” Jared says, cracking himself up.

“Or Kry could do mental math,” Kevin jokes—trying to impress Jared, I guess.

“And that’s about it for talent in this class,” Emma finishes, sounding sad.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Ms. Sanchez says, her brown eyes sparkling. “I’m sure some of you are taking music lessons or gymnastics. Or how about a martial arts demonstration? Anyone?”

We all
CLAMP
our mouths shut and shake our heads.

“Listen, people,” Ms. Sanchez says. “Cheer up. It’ll be fun! And the third grade has to participate. We can give it a try, at least. Remember, trying out doesn’t mean you’ll get in the show.”

“Really?” Fiona peeps.

“Really,” Ms. Sanchez says. “But I’ll tell you
what. If you want, you may sort this out among yourselves. Just remember, we need five volunteers on Monday, because that’s when the tryouts are.

“And now on to math and rounding money amounts,” she announces, pulling some worksheets out of a bright green folder. “This is something you can
all
be good at, talented or not. Also, it’s a useful, real-life skill to master. Let’s proceed.”

2

It is cloudy when we go outside for afternoon recess. It’s like the day is the same as our new, gloomy mood, because there are invisible clouds over our heads. Both the boys and the girls in Ms. Sanchez’s class huddle in the same group for once, near the picnic tables. At least the talent show has brought the boys and girls in the third grade together.

We
all
hate the idea.

“They’re trying to make us look like fools,” Jared says, scowling.

“Yeah,” Kevin agrees. “In front of the big kids, too. Everyone will laugh at us.”

“They’d better not laugh at
me
,” Stanley says, looking as fierce as a kid can wearing a red plaid shirt and glasses.

Besides us and the little kids, there are fourth,
fifth, and sixth-graders here at Oak Glen Primary School. And some of the sixth grade boys are already shaving, I think. Not every day, but still. And some of the girls look like TV stars.

The thought of those big kids watching us,
laughing
at us, is terrible. Not to mention all the parents taking videos!

“I
know
,” Cynthia says, agreeing with us boys for once. “It’s not like we’re in kindergarten or first grade. Kids in kindergarten look talented and cute just standing there
breathing
, but not us third-graders. We have to work at it.”

“The kindergartners will probably hold hands and sing something,” Heather says, shaking her head. “And everyone will say,
‘Awww.’
”

“And then they’ll clap like crazy,” Kry adds.

“How could Ms. Sanchez do this to us?” Emma asks. “When she’s going to get
married
soon?”

I don’t see what getting married has to do with anything, but I speak up anyway. “We don’t
have
to volunteer for the tryouts,” I point out. “Maybe we can just say no.”

“But the principal
said
,” Annie Pat reminds
everyone. “And he’s Ms. Sanchez’s boss. And we told her we’d take care of it. We can’t let her down. The third grade has to participate!”

It’s weird to think of our teacher having a boss. She
is
the boss.

“I know a couple of fourth-graders who are good at stuff,” Cynthia says, sounding gloomy. “This one girl can even tap dance. And fifth-graders are almost sixth-graders, so they’re safe from being laughed at, no matter what. But not us.”

“Who’s talented in our class?” I ask, looking around. “Talented enough for the tryouts, I mean. Kevin?”

Hey, maybe he’s developed some unknown skill since he’s been hanging with Jared and Stanley so much!

“Huh?” Kevin asks. He has been peeling little pieces of dark green paint off a picnic table bench like that’s his one and only job in life.

“What’s your talent?” Corey asks him. Corey’s probably sore about Kevin deserting us, too.

“Kevin can burp the alphabet now,” Jared informs us.

“Only up to D,” Kevin says, trying to sound modest.

“Except B, C, and D all kinda sound like the letter E,” Stanley says, like he’s only being honest. Not jealous.

“
Ew
, burping,” a chorus of girls says, like they’ve been rehearsing it for days.

“Well, what can
you
do?” Kevin challenges them.

“Fiona’s great at art,” Cynthia announces, defending the girls’ talent. “Especially drawing. And Heather can bend the tops of her fingers funny.”

I’d like to see that!

Heather nudges Cynthia as hard as she dares and blushes. “I won’t do it in front of an
audience
,” she says.

“Anyway, those talents wouldn’t show up very well from the back of our auditorium,” I point out. “Five of us have to come up with something
big
, that shows up—but something we know won’t make it past the tryouts. Because we don’t want everyone making a joke out of us third-graders.”

“Or the whole world making fun of us, if it goes
online,” Corey reminds us all. “It could ruin our lives!”

Sometimes Corey gets carried away.

“I think it’s just mean of Ms. Sanchez to make us do this,” Cynthia says, pouting. “And we’re working so hard to make her wedding shower all nice.”

“With a fabulous present,” Heather chimes in.

“If you call a toaster oven fabulous,” Stanley says, shaking his head.

“That was ages ago. The toaster oven got voted down,” Emma informs him. “I think that now, it’s between one of those fancy vacuum cleaners and—”

“That’s even worse,” Jared interrupts, and for once I agree with him.

“So, let’s just pick five people,” I say, trying to get everyone back to the point.

My dad sometimes says that organizing people is “like herding cats,” and I think this is what he means.

“Who made you king?” Jared asks, challenging me. “Ooo, I’m EllRay Jakes, and here’s my crown,”
he says, plonking an invisible crown on his head.
“DOINK, DOINK, DOINK.”

“Ms. Sanchez said no more doinking,” Emma tells him, hands on her hips.

I wish she wouldn’t stick up for me!

“Look who’s on your side, EllRay,” Stanley says, pointing at Emma and laughing. “Your
girlfriend
.”

“Yeah,” Jared says.
“Smoochy, smoochy, smooch,”
he says, giving big, slobbery kisses to the back of his hand.

“You can be nice to somebody without being their
girlfriend
,” Annie Pat says, turning pink—which is what happens when she gets mad, I have noticed. Maybe it’s because she has red hair. “And EllRay’s right,” she continues. “We should just get this over with now, and pick five people to try out—and
FAIL
. Then we can tell Ms. Sanchez who they are, first thing on Monday.”

“Wait,” I tell them. “Let’s think about it over the weekend, okay? Because we have to make it look real, remember. Like we’re actually going along with this. Or else she’ll get upset before she gets married, and that’s not good.”

“Yeah,” Corey says. “EllRay’s right. Getting married is hard enough. So everyone come up with one talent that sounds real over the weekend, and we can meet up and choose who has to try out before school starts on Monday.”