CHAPTER THREE

THE FOOD FIGHT LETTER

TUESDAY, APRIL 2

Dear Dad,

Today was the worst day of my entire life.

It all started with band practice.

Band is probably my least favorite subject, right after math, science, social studies, English, Chinese, and gym.

I mostly blame my band teacher, Mr. Pastrami. This is only a drawing of him, but it’s EXACTLY what he looks like:

Did you notice all of the sweat? That’s because he gets really excited when he conducts.

It’s not a big deal. Except when he waves his arms around. Then the sweat goes flying onto US!

Mr. Pastrami is insanely in love with this weird old music called jazz. He even has a framed poster of his hero, “Tuba Cheeks” Jackson, hanging in the band room.

Plus, Mr. Pastrami plays the tuba during every single one of our concerts. Partly because he’s the only one strong enough to lift it. But mostly because it’s his big chance to do a solo.

He gets so excited, he plays NONSTOP for twenty or thirty minutes! Pretty much everyone falls asleep after the first minute, but he doesn’t even notice.

I signed up to play the drums this year. But it turned out there were already twelve drummers in band and only three drum kits. So I have to play the cymbals.

 

It was either that or the triangle.

And anything is more fun than playing the triangle.

At first I thought playing the cymbals would be cool. But it turns out I only get to smash them once or twice at the end of each song. The rest of the time, I just stand there and watch everyone else play.

On the bright side, I just realized that the cymbals look exactly like the Samurai Shields from NINJA WARZ. So now I can practice my moves while I’m waiting to smash them.

Plus, they protect me from all of Mr. Pastrami’s flying sweat!

There’s only one problem . . .

They don’t protect me from getting yelled at when I drop them.

The real reason today was so terrible is because of a kid in band named Jack B.

Jack is also the only 5th-grader with a mustache.

It’s kind of hard to see, but if you look close, it’s right above his lip.

Jack plays the trombone, but he mostly spends band practice picking on Max Orobo.

Max is the only boy in school who plays the clarinet. For some reason, that makes him the perfect target for bullies.

Jack is always bumping Max’s chair with his trombone like it’s an accident. But you can tell it’s not really.

Today when we were putting the instruments away, Jack stole Max’s clarinet.

Then he stuck his barbecue gum on it and threw it to me!

There was no way I was going to get yelled at for that too. Or get Jack’s gum on my hands.

So I did the smart thing and pretended not to see it.

It didn’t work. Mr. Pastrami came out and yelled at all three of us.

I guess he believed me, since he only sent Max and Jack to the office.

 

I have to say, I felt a little bad for Max. I don’t really think he should have gotten in trouble.

Even if he is kind of a frog-smacker.

Later, at lunch, the mac and cheese was still missing. So Mrs. Browny served some gross baked beans instead.

You could tell everyone was really sad about it.

Everyone except for the kids at the cheese-allergy table.

Since none of the adults were doing anything to catch the Mac and Cheese Bandit, I decided to hang up this poster:

Then I went and sat next to Dante Donahue.

Dante is only in 3rd grade, but I let him hang out with me sometimes so I can practice ninja moves on him.

I feel sort of bad for Dante. He doesn’t have a lot of crime-fighting skills like me. Maybe because he’s still just a little kid.

I guess you could say his most valuable skill is being able to eat gross stuff. For example, he once made fifty cents by eating a Tater Tot after Taylor Wong licked it!

Anyway, me and Dante were trying to figure out the Mac and Cheese Bandit’s secret identity when guess who came over to our table?

Jack dumped his backpack onto the table. It was filled with mac and cheese!

Did this mean Jack was the bandit? Was he really turning himself in?

I figured if I played it cool, he might lead me to where the rest of the mac and cheese was hidden!

Good thing I’m naturally cool under pressure.

Too bad Dante isn’t.

Jack grabbed a handful of mac and cheese and smooshed it right on my bald spot.

I tried to figure out how to turn it into a joke. But somehow I ended up throwing the whole backpack at him. He ducked right as Dante came back with Mr. Prince. Just my luck!

I tried to tell Mr. Prince that I was innocent, but for some reason, he wouldn’t believe me.

He didn’t even believe me when I told him Jack was probably the bandit. He just sent me to his office.

Half an hour later, he came in wearing a T-shirt and jeans. I have to say, he didn’t look very principally carrying his cheesy suit around in a plastic bag.

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT, DAD? ME? A TROUBLEMAKER? I’d hardly call solving crimes and catching bandits being a troublemaker.

Mr. Prince was acting like the whole thing was MY fault.

I could only think of one thing:

Mr. Prince shook his head and handed me the bag.

Clean his suit? With ninja moves? How am I supposed to do that? Especially without Mom finding out?

What have I done, Dad? That mac and cheese was my only clue. And I threw it away!

Now I’m clueless.

I’ll bet I wouldn’t have all this trouble if I was living with you in North Dakota.

Love,

PJ

 

PS. Another reason this was the worst day ever: guess what Mom made for dinner tonight.

It figures.