Miss Holly Is Too Jolly! (3 page)

That afternoon me and Michael and Ryan were in the vomitorium eating lunch. Andrea and Emily and their girly friends were at the next table, so they couldn't bother us.

It's noisy in the vomitorium! Everyone was hooting and hollering. The lunch
lady, Ms. LaGrange, was wearing these antler earmuff thingies on her head to block out the sound.

Ms. LaGrange is strange.

I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Michael had a tuna sandwich. Ryan had two slices of bread and some slices of ham. Instead of putting the ham between the bread slices, he put it on the
outside
of the bread. Then he started eating.

“Why did you put the ham on the
outside
of your sandwich?” I asked him.

“It's not a sandwich,” Ryan replied. “It's a wichsand.”

Ryan is weird.

“I'll bet Santa isn't going to read those
letters we wrote,” Michael said as he bit into his sandwich.

“Santa doesn't even exist,” Ryan said. “One time I saw this Santa guy on the street ringing a bell, and then on the next block, there was
another
Santa guy who looked just like him.”

“Maybe the second one was a clone,” I said.

“My friend Billy who
lives around the corner told me that they can take a cell from a sheep and clone it into a whole nother sheep.”

“‘Nother' isn't a word, A.J.,” Michael said.

“Neither is your face,” I told him.

“Look, it's just impossible for one guy to visit every single house in the world in one night,” Ryan said. “Besides, our house doesn't even have a chimney. How would he get in?”

“If you don't have a chimney,” Michael
said, “Santa comes in through the toilet bowl. Everybody has one of them.”

“That's disgusting,” I said. “And he couldn't fit through the toilet anyway.”

“It's just impossible,” Ryan insisted. “There's no way Santa could make toys for every kid in the world.”

“He has Elvis to help him,” I said.

Michael and Ryan looked at me.

“Not
Elvis
, dumbhead!” Michael yelled, slapping his forehead. “Elves! He has
elves
to help him!”

“I knew that.”

At the table beside us, Andrea and her annoying friends were giggling. They must have been listening in on our private conversation.

“You better watch out, Arlo,” Andrea said. “Santa has a list, and he's checking it twice.”

“He knows if you've been bad or good,” said Emily, “so be good for goodness' sake.”

“Who asked you two?” I said.

“You're naughty,” Andrea said. “But Emily and I are nice, so Santa is going to bring us good presents. He's probably going to bring you a lump of coal.”

“That's okay,” I said. “I'll give it away to some poor boys and girls who don't have any coal. Then we'll have more peace and love in the world.”

Ryan and Michael cracked up. Nah-nah-nah boo-boo on Andrea! Why doesn't a giant lump of coal fall on her head?

“¡Buenos días!”
Miss Holly said a few days later. That means “good day” in Spanish. There were red and green balloons and streamers all over the hallways. Spanish Christmas music was playing. And Miss Holly had that basket of fruit on her head again.

Everybody was excited about our first rehearsal for the big holiday pageant. Everybody except the boys, that is.

When we got to the language lab, Miss Holly was up on a ladder taping little plants to the walls.

“What's that?” asked Neil the
nude kid.

“It's mistletoe!” said Miss Holly.

What a dumb name. Missiles blast into outer space. How can a missile have a toe? They should definitely get a new name for that plant.

Miss Holly told us that when two people are standing under mistletoe, they're supposed to kiss. Eww! Yuck! Disgusting! I'm not kissing anyone. And I'm sure not going to kiss anyone just because some
plant
told me to. Mistletoe is creepy. I'm not going anywhere near that stuff.

Miss Holly told us that besides Christmas and Hanukkah, there is another
holiday people celebrate in December. It's an African American holiday called Kwanzaa. Ryan got all excited, because that's the holiday his family celebrates. Miss Holly asked him to tell us about it.

Ryan told us that Kwanzaa means “first fruits,” and it celebrates the harvest of the crops. It starts the day after Christmas and lasts seven days. Each day you light a candle in this candleholder called a
kinara
. Then somebody will say
“Harambee,”
which means “Let's pull together” in Swahili.

It wasn't fair. Christmas only lasts one day. But Kwanzaa lasts seven days and Hanukkah lasts eight days. Man, I wish I
was black or Jewish.

Ryan told us that on
kuumba
, the sixth day of Kwanzaa, they have a big feast called
karamu
. They eat fried okra, vegetable stew, squash, peanut soup, and sweet potato pie. Yuck! Ryan will eat anything. If I had to eat that stuff, I'd die.

But other than eating that yucky food, Kwanzaa sounded cool. Ryan taught us a Kwanzaa song called “Kuumba,” and Miss Holly said it would be perfect for the holiday pageant. Then Miss Holly told us that we were going to have to wear costumes and memorize lines. The holiday pageant was sounding lamer and lamer. She also said she needed to pick kids for the
speaking parts. All the girls got excited.

“Oooh, can I be the sugar plum fairy?” begged Andrea.

“Oooh, can I sing the dreidel song?” begged Emily.

“What about you boys?” asked Miss Holly. “Which speaking parts do you want?”

“We don't want any speaking parts,” I announced.

“That's right,” agreed Michael and Ryan.

“I won't force you to take a speaking part,” Miss Holly said, “but you do have to be in the pageant. You three boys will be the stage crew.”

“Stage crew?” I asked. “What's that?”

“That means you'll work the spotlight and move the scenery and props around,” said Miss Holly.

Being on the stage crew sounded cool. I looked at Ryan and Michael to make sure they thought so too.

“No problemo,” I said. That's Spanish for “no problem,” in case you don't speak Spanish as well as me.

“But I'll still need you to wear costumes,” Miss Holly said, “because we need elves. We must have elves! You can't have a holiday pageant without elves!”

“We don't want to be elves!” Michael said. “Elves are lame.”

“Yeah, I'm not dressing up like
an elf,” I said.

Miss Holly looked at us, and I could tell that she was getting mad because she put her hands on her hips. Whenever grownups put their hands on their hips, that means they're mad. Nobody knows why.

I was afraid Miss Holly might punish us by making us be sugar plum fairies. Then
we'd have to wear tights like my sister. That's when I got the greatest idea in the history of the world.

“Instead of dressing up like elves,” I said, “can we dress up like
Elvis
?”

Miss Holly thought it over for a few seconds.

“Okay!” she finally agreed. “You three boys can be Elvis!”

All right! Maybe the holiday pageant wouldn't be so lame after all.

A couple of days later, around two o'clock, we came into the all-purpose room for rehearsal. Miss Holly was wearing a Santa Claus hat and beard. She's weird.

“Habari gani?”
she said.

“What the heck does that mean?” I asked.

“That means ‘What's the news?' in Swahili,” said Miss Holly. “You say it during Kwanzaa.”

It was a week before the big holiday pageant, and we had to rehearse every day. There was a lot of work to do. We had Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanzaa songs to learn, lines to memorize, and entrances and exits to practice.

Me and Ryan and Michael had to learn
how to move the scenery and props around and work the spotlight, too. At the end of the pageant, it would be our job to lower Santa Claus (Mr. Klutz, of course) and his sleigh down from the ceiling with ropes. That was going to be cool.

Miss Holly said that because we were Elvises, we could sing “Hound Dog,” even though it didn't have anything to do with the holidays. Mr. Loring, our music teacher, played piano for all the songs. Miss Holly played her guitar.

Emily got to sing a solo. She is a big crybaby, but she has a pretty good voice, and Miss Holly let her sing “The Dreidel
Song.” Emily was practicing it when I came up with the most brilliant idea in the history of the world.

“Since she's singing a song about a dreidel,” I said to Miss Holly, “maybe she should spin around too?”

“Great idea, A.J.!” said Miss Holly.

I'm in the gifted and talented program, and I'm constantly coming up with genius ideas. I should get the No Bell Prize for that one.

At the end of rehearsal, Miss Holly told us how proud she was. She said the holiday pageant was going to be great. Miss Holly was so pleased that she told us she was going to invite Dr. Carbles, the
president of the Board of Education, to come and see the show. Wow! If the principal is the king of the school, the president of the Board of Education must be like the king of the whole world.

We rehearsed until three o'clock, when it was time for dismissal. Then we lined up outside the doorway in ABC order. That's when Andrea turned around and whispered in my ear, “Hey, Arlo. Look up!”

I looked up.

It was that mistletoe stuff! It was hanging from the doorway right over our heads! How did it get up there?

I remembered what Miss Holly told us about mistletoe. If two people are under
it, they're supposed to kiss. Andrea was standing there with her lips all puckered up like she was trying to whistle. Eww! Yuck! Disgusting! What is her problem?

No way was I going to kiss Andrea. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. I had to think fast. I looked around to see if Ryan and Michael were watching.

“You have to kiss me, Arlo,” Andrea whispered.

“I do not.”

“Do too.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

“Not in my lifetime.”

“It's the rule, Arlo.”

“Says who?”

“If you don't kiss me, you'll be in trouble, Arlo.”

I'd rather be in trouble than kiss Andrea. I'd rather be run over by a herd of buffalo than kiss Andrea. I'd rather have an elevator fall on my head than kiss Andrea. I'd rather
die
—

I didn't get the chance to finish my thought, because at that very moment the most horrible thing in the history of the world happened.

Andrea kissed
me
!

Ugh! On the lips! I thought I was gonna throw up! Quickly I wiped my lips off. I
mean, I wiped off my lips. I mean, my lips stayed on, but I wiped them off. What I'm trying to say is I didn't want to be infected by Andrea's disgusting cooties. I just hoped nobody saw what happened.

“Oooooh!” Ryan said. “Andrea and A.J. just kissed. They must be in
love
!”

“When are you gonna get married?” asked Michael.

If those guys weren't my best friends, I would hate them.