One-Man Band (3 page)

I did a scream at that terrible sight!

Mother and Daddy came running.

“Junie B.! What on
earth
is the matter?” said Mother.

“MY TOE IS THE MATTER! MY TOE IS THE MATTER!” I hollered back. “LOOK! LOOK! LOOK!”

I held up my foot for Mother to see.

“Oh, my,” she said. “The doctor said this might happen. Your toenail has a bad bruise on it.”

I wrinkled my eyebrows at her.

“A
bruise
?” I said. “That's all it is? It's just a
bruise
?”

Mother nodded. “Yes. It's just a bruise, Junie B.,” she said. “But I'm afraid it's going to be a little painful to wear shoes for a while.”

Daddy sat down next to me.

“Don't worry, though, honey,” he said. “As soon as it grows out, it will look normal again.”

He pointed to his bare foot. “Look at mine. I've bruised my big toenail many times over the years. But it's always grown out as good as new. See?”

I looked at it and made a face.

Daddy's big toe is not attractive.

Just then, tears came in my eyes.

I touched my toe very gentle.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! It hurts even worser than yesterday,” I said. “And so now what am I supposed to do? ’Cause I don't even want to wear sandals to school again. On
account of sandals don't protect toes from getting hurt.”

Mother thought for a minute.

Then she went to my closet. And she got out my old red sneakers. And she cut a hole in the top of one of them with my scissors.

She held it up for me to see.

“Ta-daaaaa,” she said real singy.

And ha! What do you know? The hole was right where my sore piggy toe would be!

Mother helped me put on my red socks. Then she slid the holey sneaker on my foot very careful.

And surprise, surprise!

It didn't even hurt, hardly!

After breakfast, Mother drove me to school again.

Only at first, when I went to my room, I
felt kind of shy about my sneaker hole. And so I snuck to my seat and I showed it to my friend Herb in private.

And guess what?

Herbert's whole face lighted up.

“A
window,”
he said. “You've got a
window
in your shoe.”

I did a giggle at that idea.

“Hey, yeah,” I said. “A
piggy toe
window.”

Just then, Sheldon came hurrying into Room One.

He had a shiny red Band-Aid on his forehead.

He stood in the front of the room. And he pointed to it with his finger.

“No one touch this, please!” he said real loud.

He turned to Mr. Scary.

“Even though I came back to school today, I'm still not totally right up here,” he said.

Mr. Scary nodded. “Oh yes, Sheldon. I'm very aware of that,” he said.

Sheldon kept on talking. “I probably shouldn't play in the kickball tournament on Friday, either,” he said. “’Cause what if I'm standing at home plate … and a ball starts rolling at me … and then it hits a rock … and it bounces up and smacks me in the Band-Aid … and I get a bump on top of my bump?”

He did a little shiver. “Double bumps would not be good,” he said.

Mr. Scary looked at him.

“No, Sheldon. Double bumps would
not
be good,” he said. “But don't worry. Between now and then I'm sure we can
come up with something else you can do in the tournament.”

After that, Mr. Scary glanced over at me. “And don't
you
worry, either, Junie B.,” he said. “We'll think of something else you can do, too. Okay?”

I raised my eyebrows at that guy.

“Yeah, but I don't want to do something else, Mr. Scary,” I said. “I want to play in the kickball game. I've been practicing really hard.”

Mr. Scary smiled kind of sad.

“Yes. I'm sure you have, Junie B.,” he said. “But your toe is already sore. And I doubt if you'll feel like kicking a ball with it by Friday.”

I sat there a minute.

’Cause I never even thought of that problem before.

All of a sudden, my shoulders felt very slumping.

I put my head on my desk. And I hid under my sweater.

’Cause now I would
never
be the star of the kickball tournament.

And that had been the happiest daydream of my life.

After I got done writing, I heard talking in the front of the room.

I looked up.

Lucille was standing at Mr. Scary's desk.

Camille and Chenille were standing there, too.

All of them were blabbering at the exact same time.

Mr. Scary covered his ears.

Finally, he said
whoa, whoa, whoa
at them. And he pointed for them to sit back down.

After that, Mr. Scary stood up. And he
walked to the front of the room.

“Boys and girls … it has come to my attention that not
everyone
in Room One wants to play in the kickball tournament,” he said.

His eyes glanced over to Camille and Chenille.

“It seems that two of our classmates would rather be cheerleaders,” he said. “And another one would like to be—”

This time, his eyes glanced at Lucille.

“—homecoming queen,” he said.

Lucille sprang right up.

“No, no.
Princess
!” she called out. “I want to be homecoming
princess
, Mr. Scary!
Not
queen! Princesses are way cuter than queens. Plus princesses aren't old.”

She looked at the children and fluffed herself.

“Wait till you see me, everyone. I'm going to have a beautiful float made out of pink rose petals,” she said. “And there will be a golden throne for me to sit on.”

She looked all around the room.

“Maybe a few of you girls might like to be my attendants,” she said. “But my nanna will have to look you over first.”

Mr. Scary went to the sink in the back of the room. And he took an aspirin.

Room One started buzzing about Lucille.

Then some of the children started thinking about different jobs that they could have in the tournament, too.

“Hey! Maybe I can be the game announcer on the loudspeaker,” said Roger.
“And after the game I can pour root beer on all the winners!”

“Yeah,” said Shirley. “And I could sell Rice Krispie Treats! My mother says those things are all profit.”

Just then, May jumped up.

“And
I
could do crowd control!” she called out. “’Cause I already have a badge at home. And so all I'll need is a big stick to poke people with. And a gas mask.”

Mr. Scary took another aspirin.

Then he walked back to his desk. And he took a deep breath.

“Okay. Here's the best I'm going to do for you guys,” he said. “I'll give everyone in here two choices of jobs. You can either play in the game as part of the team.
Or
you can be a cheerleader. But that's it. That's my best offer.”

Lucille stood up at her desk. She flounced her dress very upset. Then she plopped back down again.

After that, Sheldon stood up, too. And he pointed to his Band-Aid.

“But what about
this
, Mr. Scary? Have you forgotten about my injury?” he asked. “I
can't
play in the game, remember? And cheerleading is just for
girls.”

Mr. Scary frowned. “Well, that's not actually true, Sheldon. Lots of colleges have male cheerleaders,” he said. “But since you and Junie B.
both
have injuries, I'll let you two pick different jobs to do in the tournament. Okay? That would only be fair.”

Sheldon looked relieved.

“Yes!” he said. “I was hoping you'd say that! Because I already know what I'm going to do!”

He quick climbed on his chair and made a 'nouncement.

“I'm going to do a halftime show! I'm going to do a halftime show!” he shouted.

Mr. Scary grabbed him and put him back in his seat.

“A halftime show?” he asked, kind of curious.

Sheldon nodded real fast.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” he said. “’Cause my dad used to play the cymbals in his high school band! And he already taught me how. Plus he still has his band uniform! So my mother can fix it to fit me! And then I can march and play the cymbals like a real professional band guy!”

Sheldon clapped his hands together.

“And wait! Here's another idea! Maybe I can sing, too! ’Cause I learned some songs
at Christmastime. And my dad says I can almost carry a tune!”

Mr. Scary smiled.

“You know what, Sheldon? I think that's a
fine
idea,” he said. “In fact, I think a little halftime entertainment would be
excellent.
”

Sheldon clapped some more.

“Yay! I'll start practicing as soon as I get home!” he said.

Mr. Scary smiled again.

Then he raised his eyebrows. And he looked back at me.

“So … Junie B.? What do you think? If Sheldon does a halftime show, would you like to be in it, too?” he asked. “I bet playing an instrument wouldn't be too hard on your sore toe. And I'm sure Sheldon would be happy to have another band member.”

I did a loud groan.

Then I put my head back on my desk.

And I covered up with my sweater again.