I FOLLOWED HEATHER to the multipurpose room, walking as far behind her as I could. My feet wanted to go fast, but I kept telling them to slow down.
“Do you always walk this slowly?” she asked me.
“My feet are refusing to cooperate,” I answered. “I guess they don’t like long division any more than my brain does.”
Looking around the empty multipurpose room, the only word that came to mind to describe it was “dungeon.” It was dark and cold and empty in there, with chairs stacked around the sides of the walls. It looked like a hold of an Egyptian ship I saw once in a movie, where the men were chained to their oars and had to row for days with no food.
I’ve had some good times in that multipurpose room. The International Day food festival we had there last year was a lot of fun, especially when Ms. Adolf ate my spicy enchiladas and got the gas attack of the century. The awards ceremony for the School Olympiad, when I got my first and only gold medal for pitching on the winning softball team, took place right in that very room. And kindergarten graduation was a blast, when we all wore caps and gowns made out of paper grocery bags. That was the day Frankie, Ashley, and I swore to always be best friends.
But as I stood there watching Heather set up two plastic chairs on either side of a long wooden table, those fun memories seemed to fade right out of my mind. The only thought in my head was, Help, somebody get me out of this dungeon right now.
Heather sat down on one of the chairs and motioned for me to sit down across the table from her.
“Where should we start?” she said, pulling out our math workbooks from the huge stack of books she had carried in there. “We can either begin with Chapter Five and go back to Chapter One, or we can start at Chapter One and move right through to Chapter Five.”
“Are those my only choices?” I asked.
“Come on, Henry, this is your tutoring session, too. I want you to have some say in this.”
“Then my first choice is that you call me Hank.”
“If that will help you learn, then Hank it is. You see how easy this is? We’ve already made a decision together. Now I’ll make one. Let’s start with Chapter One.”
“Couldn’t we just study the cover for a while?” I asked, hoping to stall until the bell rang. “Let’s look at all the funny pictures. Like this number five with little yellow legs. Where do you think it’s running?”
“Hank, this is off topic, if you know what I mean.”
“Maybe it’s running a marathon,” I went on. “I know. Number five is determined to beat nine. Oh, wait, nine isn’t even in the race, because seven ate nine.”
Man, I love that joke. I cracked myself up and let out a huge chuckle. Midway through my chuckle, though, I noticed that Heather wasn’t even close to chuckling. In fact, she stood up, which took her a long time because she’s so tall, and put her hands on her hips.
“Hank, are you going to be serious about this, or what?”
“I’m definitely going for the or what.”
“Okay, you can sit there cracking jokes with your D in math, or you can come with me as I lead you down the path to mathematical excellence.”
“I’ve been down that path and there’s man-eating goats on it. I’d much rather go down the path to an excellent lunch.”
I know, I know. I was giving poor Heather a really hard time. But it’s not because I was enjoying being a jerk. My real goal was to avoid even attempting a math problem, because I didn’t want her to see how really, truly rotten I am at math. My brain is just not math-friendly. As a matter of fact, it totally doesn’t work in the number area. It’s not too hot in the letter area, either, but that’s another story.
I’m not exaggerating about how much I stink at math. Take the other day when I went to the drugstore to get a package of tropical fruit Life Savers. While I’m opening it up to search for the mango one, Peggy, who is the owner of the store, handed me change, but I couldn’t even tell if the change in my hand was correct. I didn’t know how much I was supposed to get back in the first place. Lucky for me, Peggy is very honest, so I knew I was getting back the right amount. But still, it’s totally embarrassing not to be able to do what any second-grader can do.
So, I think you can understand why I wasn’t exactly excited about showing Heather Payne my math skills. Cracking jokes came much easier. If only making up jokes was a subject in school, I know I’d get an A.
“Hank, you just refuse to take anything seriously,” Heather said. “I enjoy taking things seriously. That’s because I am a serious person!”
“And an impassioned one, too!” came a man’s deep voice from the other side of the multipurpose room. “I like to see the spark of anger in the eyes. Anger is fuel for the soul.”
“Huh?” said Heather, almost before she could help herself.
It was the first time I had seen her speechless. I had no idea who this man with the big voice was, but I liked him right away. Anyone who could shut up Heather Payne was my new best friend.
The man walked across the room to our table. Well, I guess you can call it walking. It was more like floating. You hardly saw his legs moving. It was like his shoes had wheels. He was wearing a black cape that flew out behind him, almost like Superman’s, except there was no S on it. He had shiny black hair and a black goatee. He looked like one of the Three Musketeers. That’s a really hard book that my sister Emily is reading right now. I can’t read it, but I love to look at the pictures. I like guys with capes and swords and cool hats with feathers sticking out of the top. Those guys look like they can take care of business.
The Musketeer walked over to us, and I noticed he was being followed by Mrs. Crock, who works in our school attendance office. She’s really nice. She’s so nice that I don’t even let myself laugh when she has a big wad of green lettuce stuck in her teeth, which is pretty much all the time. Mrs. Crock likes salads.
“Well, hello there, Hank and Heather,” Mrs. Crock said with a smile.
Yippee. No lettuce.
“I’d like you children to meet Devore,” Mrs. Crock went on. “Or is it Mr. Devore?”
“Simply Devore,” the Musketeer said.
“Children, Simply Devore is going to direct our winter musical.”
“No, my dear Mrs. Crock,” he said. “It is merely Devore.”
“Oh, so sorry,” she said. “Merely Devore is going to direct our winter musical. He’ll be working with us for three weeks. Aren’t we lucky?”
“Mrs. Crock,” he said, his deep voice echoing around the multipurpose room like one of those Swiss yodelers on TV. “Repeat after me. Devore. Period. Devore and nothing else. Just one name.”
“Oooohhh,” she said, looking a little embarrassed. “I get it now. My brother-in-law works with a fellow at the toothbrush plant that has a younger brother who only has one name, which, if my memory serves me correctly, is Sampson.”
“Wow,” I said. “What part of the toothbrush does he work on? The bristles or the handle?”
Heather shot me an annoyed look, but Merely Devore didn’t.
“This boy has a curious mind,” he said, waving his cape at me. “Curiosity is the key that unlocks drama. What is your name, young man?”
“Hank Zipzer. With two z’s.”
“And you’re a speller, too! I love a linguist!”
“Well, I really wouldn’t go that far. My spelling goes downhill after my name.”
“Mr. Devore,” Heather said. “I mean Devore. We only have a few minutes left, and Hank and I are working to improve his math skills. He is my tutee, if you know what I mean.”
“Could you please not call me that in public?” I whispered, trying not to move my lips.
Devore turned to her, his cape sweeping in a circle behind him.
“How perfect,” he said. “You have the instincts of a teacher. Just like Anna in my musical.”
“Devore is directing Anna and the King of Siam as our winter musical,” Mrs. Crock said. “He wrote a special script just for PS 87, based on the book.”
“Oh, I read the entire book over the summer,” Heather said. “Twice.”
“Very impressive,” Devore said. “How did you know over the summer that Anna and the King of Siam was to be the subject of our winter musical?”
“It was listed in the PS 87 master calendar,” Heather said. “Both online and hard copy. I study the calendar carefully, so I’ll be prepared for each and every event.”
I watched Devore’s eyebrows shoot up so high they almost touched his shiny black hair. He was getting his first blast of Miss Perfect.
“Well, you certainly seem like a competent young lady,” he said. “Very much as Anna is, in the play.”
“That’s why I’m trying out for the part,” Heather said. “I think I could play Anna. I’m told my leadership qualities are superior.”
“We shall all find that out at the auditions tomorrow,” Devore said. “But your confidence inspires me.”
I think Heather Payne blushed. No! Does Heather Payne blush? Not possible. It was probably just because it was cold in the room. My mom’s cheeks get rosy when she walks in Central Park in the winter.
“And you, Mr. Double Z,” he asked, turning to me. “Can I expect to see your smiling face at the auditions?”
“No, I’m not the drama type,” I said, which was code for what I really wanted to say, which was, “There’s no way I could read a script out loud in front of the other kids.”
“Oh, Hank, you have a wonderful personality,” Mrs. Crock said. “I think you’d make an adorable King of Siam.”
“I don’t even know where Siam is,” I answered.
“It’s in southeast Asia, bordering Myanmar, Laos, Cambodia, and Malaysia,” Heather, Miss Encyclopedia, piped up. “Approximately the size of France, with a capital city of Bangkok, today it is known as Thailand.”
“I love Thai food,” I said.
“You see, young man,” Devore said. “You are already connected to the material.”
“Wow, I didn’t know shrimp toast made me an actor.”
“Well then, I expect to see you at the auditions,” Devore said.
I shrugged.
“Perhaps you could prepare a scene with Mr. Double Z,” he suggested to Heather. “What do you say?” he said, turning back to me. “Am I awakening the inner actor who lives inside you?”
Fortunately, the bell rang before I had to give him an answer. I grabbed my backpack, and my inner actor and I ran off to class.