Summer School! What Genius Thought That Up? (11 page)

I dashed backstage. It sounded like I was going to have to erupt any second.

Backstage was nothing more than the playground behind the volcano backdrop. Thank goodness for Ashley. She had remembered to put my pillow shoes right where I could find them. I could hear Frankie building up to my entrance as I slipped my feet under the ribbon we had tied to each pillow.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment has come,” he said, making his voice echo into the microphone. “We have called King Kahuna Huna here to dazzle you with his ability to travel through time. King Kahuna Huna, show yourself!”

Ashley started to strum furiously on her ukulele. Frankie held the microphone close to his mouth and made the sound of a drumroll. He is really good at imitating sounds. Even though I couldn't see the kids in the audience, I could tell from their gasps that the good doctors Wong had really kicked up the steam. I could hear the water splashing in the dry-ice bucket, and I could even see some of the steam creeping under the scenery toward me.

I took a deep breath and leaped forward, crashing through the purple volcano painted on the brown paper that Ashley and Frankie had borrowed from my mom's deli. As I burst onto the stage, I put on my biggest smile and held my arms up to the sky.

I have to say so myself, it was quite an entrance. At first, all the kids were too stunned to say anything. It was totally silent in the audience.

Then everyone broke out laughing. I mean, they erupted!

“Zip,” Frankie whispered to me, “what's with the hair and mustache?”

“I can explain that.”

“No time now,” Ashley whispered.

Frankie looked at the audience. They were still cracking up, which wasn't exactly what we had intended.

“You better come up with something, dude.” Frankie said. “Make it good.”

“Hello, mine little friends of PS 87,” I said in my German accent. “Albert Einstein here.”

“Hey, Zipper Butt, you're supposed to be King Kahuna Huna, jerk,” Nick McKelty hollered out. He looked over at Joelle and gave her a punch in the arm. She shoved him back. Wow, they were perfect for each other. Mr. Hit and Ms. Shove.

“Zank you for bringing that up, chubby head,” I said, looking right at Nick. “I have a vonderful explanation.”

“This is going to be lame,” McKelty said.

“Vhile I vas riding around on a beam of light across zee universe, who should I bump into but King Kahuna Huna. He vas in his outer-space outrigger. And in case zat is too big a vord for you, McKelty, das is a canoe.”

Everyone cracked up. McKelty turned red in the face, and I was loving it.

“Anyhoo,” I went on, “zee king he says to me, ‘Al . . . I need a big favor. I vas on my vay to PS 87 vhen I got a call that another volcano vas erupting on Waca Waca Wiki Waca.' For those of you who aren't a genius like me, zat's an island right next to Waca Wiki Wiki Waca.”

I noticed that Kim Paulson and Katie Sperling, the two prettiest girls in my class, were holding their sides from laughing so hard. I didn't know people actually did that.

“So King Kahuna Huna says to me, ‘I vas vondering if you could take over the PS 87 gig for me.' I said, ‘Sure, Kahuna, das is my pleasure.' So here I am.”

The kids went wild. They burst into applause and started to chant my name.

“Hank! Hank! Hank!” they shouted in a steady rhythm.

And here is the most incredible part: When I looked over at Ms. Adolf, she was laughing so hard, her coconuts had shifted all the way to her back.

Papa Pete always tells me, “Hankie, quit while you're ahead.” So I did.

THEY WENT ON CHENTING my name for at least three minutes, maybe more. I could hear them as I shuffled backstage and took off my green pillow shoes.

“Good work, Zip,” Frankie said. “You really pulled that from out of your hat.”

“You mean his wig!” Ashley said, laughing.

Frankie, Ashley, and I came out and sat down in the front row of the audience. It was fun sitting there because a bunch of kids whispered to me that I was really funny.

It took a while for the audience to settle down so they could enjoy the next act, which was supposed to be Emily, Robert, and Bruce the Gecko. I don't know if it was the chanting from the kids or if you just can't teach a lizard to dance, but whatever the reason, Bruce had a freak-out. He curled himself up into a little ball that was so small it looked like a dot on top of the letter
i
. He hid in back of the cap from Robert's ear cream that was still being used as his water dish.

While everyone waited, Robert kneeled down next to Bruce's plastic box, begging him on his bony little knees.

“Come on, Bruce,” he said. “I'll never ask anything of you again.”

Bruce wasn't going for it. He stayed put. Robert tried another tactic.

“Actually, Bruce,” he said, “I think you'll find that dancing is a very aerobic activity. It stimulates your heart and benefits your blood flow. You won't be sorry.”

“Robert, don't pressure him,” Emily said to him. “He's just a delicate little gecko.”

I'm not someone who says nice things about my sister just for fun. But the truth is, I had to hand it to Emily. I mean, I felt badly for her that Bruce was a no-show. But it was pretty cool that she was willing to give up the talent contest for the good of the gecko. You've got to admire that kind of devotion to lizards.

McKelty was getting tired of waiting. He stood up and shouted, “We've waited long enough. Let's lose the geeks. Who's ready to see the real winner?”

“Mr. McKelty,” Ms. Adolf said, “there is another way to say you're ready.”

“Gotcha, Ms. A.” He smirked. “How about Make Way for the King?”

I felt someone pulling on my sleeve. I turned around, expecting to hear another compliment.

“Hi, Hank. You made me laugh.”

It was none other than Micro-Mason, the cutest kid on the planet. Without saying another word, he crawled up on my lap and got comfortable so he could watch the rest of the show.

McKelty began to set up the stage for his act. I don't know what he was planning to do, but I could tell Joelle was part of it, too. He sent her to stand over by the wading pool with her dopey leotard on.

McKelty started to pull off his shirt. When he lifted his arms to get his shirt off, you could smell his stinky stink all the way over in the front row where we were sitting.

“He smells like my goldfish bowl,” Mason said.

One thing about Mason, he sure doesn't sugarcoat the truth.

McKelty held up his hands to get everyone quiet, which we were anyway.

“Put your arms down,” Mason said, holding his nose. I tried to cover his mouth with my hands, but it was too late. McKelty had heard him.

“Are you telling me what to do, shrimp?” McKelty said. Now I ask you, how much of a jerk do you have to be to say that to a little kid?

“Get on with it, McKelty,” I said. “Show us your so-called talent.”

“Here goes,” said McKelty. “For my act, I am going to demonstrate the manly art of Frisbee Throwing on the Beach.”

“Manly art, my foot,” Ashley whispered. “Give me a break.”

“I will demonstrate several techniques from my award-winning style,” McKelty said.

“If this guy's ever won an award for anything, my name is Bernice,” Frankie said.

“No, it's not,” Mason said. “Hank says your name is Frankie.”

McKelty took a red Frisbee out of a bowling bag he had brought to the stage with him. He took a bunch of deep breaths and tried pumping up his arms like a bodybuilder.

“For my first trick, I will do the McKelty Special Long Toss,” he said, spraying spit all the way to the first row. “Notice that not only will the Frisbee travel across the yard, it will change height three times as it travels.”

That sounded pretty impressive. Everyone got really quiet as he prepared for the long toss.

“Joelle, are you ready to assist me?” McKelty called out.

“You bet I am,” she giggled.

McKelty picked up the Frisbee with his huge, galumphy hand. He hauled back and flung it toward Joelle with all his might. I'll say this for McKelty. He's big, and when he throws a Frisbee, it sails.

Unfortunately for Joelle, it sailed right into her forehead, bonking her backward into the wading pool. She never even got her hands up to make the catch. Nope, she just plopped into the pool with a splash and a scream.

When she came up for air, she had a whole bunch of plastic Hawaiian flowers on her head. Oh yeah, and about her leotard with the hand-painted birds of paradise all over—to put it simply, they were washed away.

Joelle didn't take it well. She started to pound the water with her palms, splashing everybody sitting anywhere near her.

“This is all your fault,” she sputtered at Nick the Tick.

“My fault!” he yelled back at her. “How about catching it next time?”

Joelle hauled herself out of the pool and stormed off toward the auditorium. As she ran by us, you could hear her feet sloshing around in her sneakers.

“Hey, Joelle,” Ashley said as she ran by, “you might try rhinestones next time. At least they're waterproof.”

That pretty much put an end to McKelty's Frisbee act. After him, a few more kids performed. Heather Payne played “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean” on the cello. Kim Paulson and Katie Sperling did a lip sync to a Beatles song. Ben Brady cracked his knuckles in time to “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” He didn't just use his fingers. He used his toes, too. That takes talent. I was worried about him. He was going to give us some stiff competition.

After everyone was finished, Ms. Adolf had us all come to the stage and line up. She held her hand over each contestant's head and asked the audience to applaud for the one they thought was best. We went last, because we were the first to go on.

And guess what? We won!

As I looked out at all the kids applauding for us, and at Mason jumping up and down and screaming, I thought to myself,
Hank, this is the greatest day of your life.

And here's the weird part: It happened in summer school.

HENRY WINKLER is an actor, producer, and director and he speaks publicly all over the world. Holy mackerel! No wonder he needs a nap. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife, Stacey. They have three children named Jed, Zoe, and Max and two dogs named Monty and Charlotte. If you gave him one word to describe how he feels about this book, he would say, “Proud.”

If you gave him two words, he would say, “I am so happy that I got a chance to write this book with Lin and I really hope you enjoy it.” That's twenty-two words, but hey, he's got learning challenges.

 

LIN OLIVER is a writer and producer of movies, books and television series for children and families. She has created over one hundred episodes of television, four movies and seven books. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, Alan. They have three sons named Theo, Ollie, and Cole, one fluffy dog named Annie, and no iguanas.

If you gave her two words to describe this book, she would say “funny and compassionate.” If you asked her what compassionate meant, she would say “full of kindness.” She would not make you look it up in the dictionary.