One-Man Band (5 page)

I wrinkled my eyebrows very serious.

“Hmm … that's a good question, May. Let me think,” I said.

Then I leaned real close to her face.

“ME! THAT'S WHO!” I said.

Lennie and Herb laughed very hard.

Then Sheldon looked back at me. And he gave me a happy thumbs-up.

I smiled.

’Cause what do you know?

This time, the truth worked beautifully.

At recess, Mr. Scary got the kickball team started on their practice.

Then he came over to Sheldon and me. And he helped us with our halftime show.

First, he gave me a woodblock from the music teacher's room. Plus also, he gave me a drumstick.

“If you hit this woodblock while you march, you and Sheldon will be able to stay in step,” he explained.

I smiled very thrilled. ’Cause hitting stuff is right up my alley.

I whacked that thing with my drumstick.

Then Sheldon crashed his cymbals together.

And ha! That was beautiful music!

After that, Mr. Scary told us to form a line behind him. And then all three of us marched around and around the playground.

And guess what? My woodblock kept us in step very perfect!

After a while, we marched over to a microphone. It was on a stand in the grass.

“This is where you're going to sing, Sheldon,” Mr. Scary said. “When you sing into this microphone, the whole audience will be able to hear you.”

Mr. Scary smiled. “We won't turn it on yet. But you can still practice your song, okay?”

“Okay!” said Sheldon real thrilled.

Then he stood up straight and tall.

And he walked over to the microphone.

And he started to sing “Hark! Harold the Angel Sings.”

He played the cymbals while he sang.

It was very lovely, sort of. But Mr. Scary's face did not look delighted.

He held up his hand. “Uh … could you hold it a second there, Sheldon?” he called. “Could you stop singing for a minute, please?”

Sheldon stopped.

Mr. Scary walked over to the microphone.

“Okay. Well … that's a
very
nice Christmas carol, Sheldon,” he said. “And you were singing it beautifully. But the trouble is … it really isn't
Christmas
, is it?
So I'm wondering if maybe you know a different song.”

Sheldon thought for a minute.

“How about ‘I Have a Little Dreidel’?” he asked. “I know that one.”

Mr. Scary ran his fingers through his tired hair.

“Yes, well, that's sort of the same problem, isn't it?” he said. “It's not really Hanukkah, either.”

Mr. Scary bent down next to him.

“Do you know any songs besides holiday songs?” he asked. “Or is there some other talent you have, Sheldon? Like can you whistle, maybe? Or do a magic trick?”

Sheldon thought some more.

“I can blow milk bubbles out of my nose,” he said. “But that mostly only happens when I'm choking.”

Mr. Scary started rubbing the sides of his head. He was getting another headache in there, I think.

Then, all of a sudden, Sheldon's whole face lighted up.

“Hey! Wait! I just thought of another song I could sing!” he said. “‘Happy Birthday,’ Mr. Scary! I know all the words to ‘Happy Birthday’! And that isn't even a holiday song!”

Our teacher stood there a second.

Then he nodded his head. And he said “Happy Birthday” would be just dandy.

Sheldon started his performance all over again.

He sang the song and played the cymbals very good.

After he got done, he did a somersault.

I do not know why.

Then hurray! Hurray! It was finally time for
me
!

I quick put down my woodblock. Then I reached into my pocket. And I took out my pretend lemons. And I started to pretend I was juggling.

Juggling for pretend is way easier than juggling for real.

I skipped and twirled and danced.

Mr. Scary and Sheldon clapped and clapped.

I did a bow.

Then I picked up my woodblock again. And I hit it with my stick. And me and Sheldon marched off the field.

We jumped all around and did a high five.

Then Sheldon picked me up and tried to twirl me around. Only he wasn't actually
strong enough. And so mostly I just dragged on my toes.

His face turned reddish and sweaty.

He put me down and wiped his head with his sleeve.

“Whew. You weigh a ton, girl,” he said.

I did a smile.

I like that odd boy.

I really, really do.

I closed my journal. And I watched the clock for the rest of the afternoon. ’Cause I just wanted to get home and practice some more.

Daddy came home from work to help me again. He tried to help me juggle for hours and hours and hours.

Only the most I could ever juggle was two dumb lemons.

And two dumb lemons is not even juggling.

Two dumb lemons is just throwing lemons in the air and catching them.

I am not going to school tomorrow.

And I
mean
it.

I glanced my eyes all around the room.

The children in Room One looked very cute.

The kickball players were wearing matching red-and-white shirts. All of their shirts said
“WE ARE (ROOM) NUMBER ONE
!”

The cheerleaders matched each other, too. They had on red skirts and white sweaters.

I looked at Sheldon.

His daddy's band jacket was way too giant. And his band hat came over his ears.

He looked like a nitwit, too.

I put my head down on my desk very glum.

My oatmeal-box hat fell on the floor.

May started to laugh.

“I hope that doesn't happen when you
juggle today, Junie Jones,” she said very meanish.

She raised her eyebrows.

“You
are
going to juggle,
aren't
you?”

I didn't answer that girl.

Instead, I turned my head to the wall. And I closed my eyes. And I wished to turn invisible.

I wished and wished with all my might.

Then, finally, I opened my eyes again. And I turned back to May. And I stuck out my tongue at her.

She stuck out hers right back at me.

I did a sigh.

Bad news.

I wasn't invisible.

At ten o'clock we went to the softball field.

There were a million jillion parents there, I bet.

Mother and Daddy were sitting on the first row of the bleachers. Grampa and Grandma Miller were sitting right next to them. They were holding my baby brother named Ollie.

He was mooing.

All of them waved at me.

I did not wave back.

’Cause I was still trying to be invisible, of course.

Me and Sheldon sat down together.

He looked at the people in the bleachers. Then he quick turned around again. And he pulled his band hat over his face. And he giggled very nutty.

“Please stop doing that,” I said. “You are just calling attention to ourself.”

Sheldon put a cymbal on his head.

I rolled my eyes at that dumb guy. Then I hid my face in my skirt. And I didn't watch the tournament.

There were two games going on at once.