Cheesie Mack Is Running like Crazy! Page 9

  “What?” I asked quietly, handing him the pin from my pocket.

  “Watch.” He opened the safety pin, tied it to the end of the twine, and lowered it until the open pin was just above Goon’s streamers. He lowered it farther and—I couldn’t believe it!—hooked one of the streamers. He quickly pulled it up. When the streamer got close, I leaned over and grabbed it.

  Goon was so focused on the other dancers, she never saw! A few seconds later she turned and discovered only one streamer!

  She looked around. She looked under the chair, then behind it, then under it again.

  She spun around, looking in every direction—except up! Finally she grabbed her remaining streamer and dashed away, probably to the dressing room to look there.

  As soon as she was gone, Georgie took the streamer from me, hooked it back on the pin, and lowered it quickly. When it was just above the chair, he jerked the string and the streamer fell off the pin right onto the chair. Georgie is super good at stuff like that. He reeled in the string just before Goon reappeared. She was frantic, but then totally perplexed when she saw her streamer sitting there in plain sight.

  The music changed and got really loud, and Goon spun into the center of the stage waving her streamers. Georgie and I laughed so hard we had to roll over and muffle ourselves. Our spy mission had been a complete success!

  The Goon Squid

  Captain Ehab had commanded me to stay in my cabin, but I, with my pet monkey, Jorjee, had come on deck unseen and climbed the mast to the crow’s nest. I looked out across the night sea, marveling at the reflections the full moon made on every wave.

  Suddenly there was shouting on the deck below.

  Days ago, our pirate ship, the Sink Naught, had set out from Gloucester Seaport, seeking the treasure we had buried on President Island. But two other pirate vessels, the Jagged Chapel and the Moon of Diana, also knew of the treasure. The race was on! Had we been overtaken by one of them?

  No.

  Our problem was not of human creation. A grotesque creature had risen from the depths of the ocean, thrown a hideous arm around our mainmast, and pulled itself onto the deck. I gazed with wonder and horror at the long pink tentacles curling and snatching at anything within reach. I quaked, and Jorjee scurried behind me in terror.

  Below us twisted a gigantic monster of the deep, the dreaded goon squid.

  *

  I have always loved pirate movies, and now that we’re reading Treasure Island for Core class, I have been thinking a lot about what it must’ve been like to cross the ocean in one of those old sailing ships. I combined that with what Georgie and I did backstage, and added what Goon looked like when she was dancing with those streamers, and wrote that pirate story.

  I got a lot of advice and a few big words from Granpa, who has read tons of books about pirates and sailing ships, including Moby-Dick, which is a grown-up novel about hunting whales (not treasure).

  Granpa told me the captain in Moby-Dick is named Ahab, so my mother, whose first name is Edith, became Ehab.

  The name of my ship, Sink Naught (naught means “zero” or “nothing”), came from Georgie Sinkoff’s last name. You can probably guess where the names of the other two ships came from. And if you can’t figure out why I turned Georgie into a curious monkey, you probably never read books containing the Man with the Yellow Hat when you were younger.

  I would love to be an actor in a pirate movie. The ships are cool, and the costumes are awesome!

  Stuffing the Ballot Box

  We waited until all the dancers were onstage for the finale, then scurried down the ladder. Mom must’ve been in a hurry to get home because moments after we slipped back into the boys’ dressing room she opened the door and said, “Time to go.”

  Whew. We’d returned just in time!

  “I hope it wasn’t too boring for you,” Mom said as we rode home.

  Goon sat up front. Georgie and I were in the back. “Not at all,” I replied. “We had fun. It was interesting.”

  “Really interesting,” Georgie chimed in.

  “We especially liked Junie’s ribbon dance,” I said.

  Goon spun around and stared. I could tell she suspected we had something to do with her mysteriously missing-and-reappearing streamer.

  “You watched from backstage?” Mom asked.

  “Sort of,” Georgie said, poking me in the ribs and grinning.

  “Sort of more upstage,” I said with a laugh.

  “Mom!” Goon whined. “Tell him to shut up.”

  “Be nice, Ronald,” Mom said, then looked at Goon. “When do you have to mail in your essay for the ballet?”

  Goon sounded worried. “It has to be postmarked tomorrow.”

  We rode in silence for a few blocks, then I said, “Do you want some help with your essay?”

  “From you? No way!”

  “Your brother is pretty creative, June,” Mom said.

  “Mom, please! I’ll get it done.”

  *

  The next morning, Granpa made oatmeal for breakfast. Goon always complains that Granpa’s oatmeal is too sticky or too lumpy or too something. But today she ate it without a word. In fact, she was humming between swallows. Next to her on the table was a big brown envelope.

  “Is that your essay?” I asked.

  “Yep. Finished it last night.” She did a little dance in her chair. “My application is done, done, and done!” She took a drink of OJ and actually smiled at me. “And it’s really good.”

  “I hope you win,” I said.

  She gave me an I-don’t-believe-you look, but I was serious. It would be terrific to have her gone for a week during Christmas break.

  Goon looked at Granpa. “Would you take this to the post office for me? It has to be postmarked today.”

  Granpa was reading the newspaper.

  “Granpa?” she persisted. “My application has to get mailed today.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Granpa!”

  “I heard your screech the first time,” he replied without looking up. “I’ll take care of it.”

  My cell phone buzzed. It was Georgie, texting meet ya. That’s our signal for bike riding.

  He was waiting at our usual spot, holding his handlebars with his splinty finger in the air. “I convinced my pop to not worry so much, so he let me ride to school.”

  “Today’s your big day,” I said cheerily. “Speeches this afternoon—and you’re gonna be great! Then the vote—and you’re gonna win!”

  Georgie didn’t talk much on the ride to school. I guess he was thinking about his speech. While we were locking our bikes to the school rack, some kid we didn’t recognize yelled, “I’m voting for you!” Georgie waved, but he didn’t seem very enthusiastic.

  As we walked by the school office, a woman’s voice called out, “Okay, Georgie. I heard about your hand. Let me see it.”

  It was Ms. Dinnington, our school nurse. Everyone likes her, especially Georgie’s father, who’s been going out with her for almost a year. Ms. Dinnington is tall and blond, and Georgie told me she’s got a daughter in high school or something.

  Georgie held out his splinted hand. “It doesn’t hurt. The doctor says I’m fine.”

  “I just want to see how he treated it,” Ms. Dinnington said, taking Georgie’s wrist and gently turning it. “Nice job.” She let go of his hand and put her hands on her hips. “I hear you’re running for class president.”

  Georgie seemed kind of embarrassed. “Uh-huh.”

  “Mr. Stotts asked me to stay after school today and count the votes,” Ms. Dinnington said. She looked around, then leaned closer. “I’m going to make certain you win. Get it?” She glanced at me, and then gave Georgie a secret wink. It was a lot like a Mack Family squinty-evil-eye.

  I was stunned.

  Sometimes I’m amazed at how fast the human brain works. In less time than it took me to type the first word in this sentence, this is what went through my mind:

  1. An official,
grown-up, professional school nurse just told us she is going to rig the election in Georgie’s favor!

  2. Miscounting votes is cheating, and I hate cheating because you never know how good you are if you cheat.

  3. Stuffing the ballot box has to be against school rules. If anyone finds out, she’ll be fired.

  4. I think it’s against the law, too. Ms. Dinnington will go to jail, and probably Georgie … and maybe me!

  5. Deeb. What about Deeb? If I go to prison, will I be allowed to have my dog with me?

  I looked at Georgie. I couldn’t tell if he was upset or not. He was just staring at Ms. Dinnington. Not blinking. Just staring.

  I looked at Ms. Dinnington. Her face was expressionless, too.

  Suddenly Georgie burst out laughing, and a microsecond later Ms. Dinnington laughed so hard she snorted. She touched Georgie’s shoulder. “I’m very proud of you, Georgie. Good luck today.” She went back into the school office.

  “What-the-what was all that about?” I asked as we walked down the hall toward homeroom.

  “She is the funniest lady ever,” Georgie replied.

  I was completely bewildered. “What about the votes? Counting? You know …”

  “It was a joke, Cheesie,” Georgie said. “You’ve never been over at my house when she has dinner with us. Oh my gosh! My dad and I laugh our heads off. She is the funniest lady ever.”

  Wow! And here I thought she was just the school nurse.

  “Is she going to be your stepmom?” I asked.

  Georgie didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “I don’t know.”

  I thought about how Georgie’s mother had died when he was two. It’s always been just him, his dad, and his older brothers, all of whom are now grown and out of the house. Finally I said, “I wonder if it’s weird to have a stepmom.”

  “I hope not,” Georgie said. “I think it’d be cool to have a stepmom.”

  In the corridor where all the sixth-grade homerooms are, the walls were covered with posters. So far in this story I’ve only talked about the contest for class president, but there were also races for vice president, secretary, treasurer, and spirit captain. You can probably imagine the hubbub in the halls (lots of “Vote for me” hub and “I am so cool” bub).

  “Oh, no!” I said as we neared Mrs. Wikowitz’s classroom. There, on the wall opposite her door, was one of Georgie’s posters. Someone had “decorated” it with a purple marker—a big nose and a bushy mustache had been drawn under the Georgie glasses.

  I handed Georgie my backpack. “Put this on my desk! I’ll be right back.”

  I scooted down the hall as fast as I could without getting busted for running. I turned into the next corridor, and just as I suspected, the purple nose and mustache were on the poster we’d taped to that wall. I spun around and zoomed toward the cafeteria. Yep. There was another nose and mustache on that poster, too. I raced back to class.

  Lana, Oddny, and Georgie were waiting near Lana’s desk.

  Lana grabbed my arm. “What’s going on?”

  I told them. Lana reached into her SuperBinder and pulled out a purple marker. “It could’ve been anyone. Lots of kids have these.”

  The bell rang, and we slid into our seats. Mrs. Wikowitz was staring at me, so I opened my SuperBinder, took out my homework, and held it up for her to see. When she looked away, I turned to Eddie (remember, he sits right next to me in Core) and whispered, “Did you mess with Georgie’s posters?”

  “Nah,” he whispered back, his lips barely moving. “I saw it, but I didn’t do it. Don’t need to. I’ll win anyway.”

  Eddie had his speech on his desk. When he saw me glance at it, he quickly put it away.

  If Eddie wasn’t the culprit—and I figured he was telling the truth—then maybe it was Diana. But she didn’t seem like the type of person who would vandalize someone else’s posters.

  I was still thinking about it when Mrs. Wikowitz dimmed the lights. Today we were doing social studies during first period, and since we were still studying prehistoric humans, she showed us a video about some guy who’d been shot with an arrow and frozen in ice for five thousand years. In 1991, some hikers found his body. He’d been so well preserved in the ice, the scientists who studied him could tell what he’d eaten as his last meal!

  (I ended up writing a report about Ötzi the Iceman. It’s on my website. I was allowed to use it for both science and social studies. Granpa said, “That’s top-noodle thinking! Work once, win twice.”)

  Just before class ended, Mrs. Wikowitz spoke about the election.

  “This afternoon during the fifth-period assembly, you’ll hear speeches from each of the candidates running for class office. I expect you to take this seriously. It is an excellent opportunity to participate in democracy. Voting is one of the hallmarks of a free society. Cast your votes wisely.”

  In the hallway after Core, I pulled Georgie, Lana, and Oddny to the side. “Who’s got the balloons?” I asked.

  “Here,” Lana replied, handing me a plastic bag. “They’ve got ‘Happy Birthday’ on them. Sorry. They were the only red and blue balloons I could find.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said, stuffing them in my pocket. “Georgie’s going to pop them anyway. I’ll pump ’em up with Mr. Amato’s helium and stash ’em in the science supply closet until fifth period. Right now, we each have an assignment.”

  I handed out copies of the list the secretary had printed for us of the thirty kids who hadn’t gone to Goose Cove, Rocky Neck, or Bass Rock.

  “Check off the names of anybody on this list who’s in one of your next classes. We’ve got to convince them to vote for Georgie.”

  Between us, we checked off all but four kids.

  “Here are some more Georgie for President stickers,” Oddny said, passing them around.

  “Okay,” I said. “Talk to everyone we’ve checked and make sure to give them a sticker before fifth period.”

  This was going to be our last chance to campaign. Voting would take place during sixth period. After school, the teachers would take the ballots to the office, where Mrs. Collins and Mr. Stotts—not Ms. Dinnington!—would count them. The results would be announced the next morning.

  The girls sped away.

  “One last thing,” I said to Georgie. “Have you practiced your speech? Eddie was looking at his before Core.”

  “Uh-huh.” Georgie didn’t seem very enthusiastic.

  “And you’ve got the pin to pop the balloons?”

  Georgie patted his shirt pocket. He was definitely not very enthusiastic.

  “What’s going on with you?” I asked.

  “Nothing. I mean … I don’t know. It’s just …”

  I grabbed him by both shoulders. “Georgie, you’re making a big thing out of nothing. You’re still the Great Georgio. Just do the speech like we planned, and you’ll get elected sixth-grade class president! You’ll see.”

  “Okay,” Georgie said. “See you at lunch.” He walked toward his third-period class. His posture looked slumpy again. He did not seem like my regular Georgie.

  Six of the “independent” kids were in my third-and fourth-period science and math classes, so I cornered them one at a time and gave them Georgie for President stickers along with a really short, really enthusiastic pep talk. I guess being singled out made them feel special, because five kids really listened, and I think I convinced them to Stand Tall for Sinkoff.

  I invited the sixth guy to help me blow up the balloons after lunch, which I thought would make him want to be a Sinkoff supporter, but while we were carrying the balloons to the auditorium for the speech assembly, he told me he lives really close to Eddie and they’re good friends.

  You can’t win them all! Even so, if Lana, Oddny, and Georgie had done as well with their “independents,” we’d picked up a bunch of votes.

  Because of the balloons, I was one of the last to get to the auditorium. I dashed around the side and went in the backstage door and looked around. Th
e curtain was still closed. Mrs. Wikowitz was onstage, showing the custodian where to put the lectern and microphone. I could hear the yammer-yammer of all the sixth graders in the audience.

  There were about twenty kids backstage, all running for class offices. One of the other sixth-grade homeroom teachers was telling them to sit on a bunch of chairs set up in the wings. That’s where I found Georgie.

  “Here’re your balloons,” I said. I tied the strings around his wrist. “This way it’ll be easy for you to pop them with the pin.”

  Georgie wasn’t paying attention. His face was white. “Cheesie,” he whispered hoarsely, “I can’t do this. I’m freaking out.”

  I had to do something. I pulled him over to the side of the main curtain and opened it just enough for us to peek out at the crowd.

  Counting all the sixth graders and teachers, there were nearly three hundred people sitting near the front of the RLS auditorium. It’s a pretty big auditorium. Even with that many people in the room, less than half the seats were filled.

  “Come on, Georgie,” I said. “You know lots of these kids. Maybe even half. And lots are your friends. There’s nothing to freak out about.”

  That seemed to calm him down a little. We went back to the chairs. I didn’t know if I was supposed to be backstage, but I figured, since Georgie was acting weird, I had a good excuse. So I sat next to him.

  The curtain opened, the audience cheered, and Mrs. Wikowitz introduced the first of the candidates running for class secretary.

  We had a long time to wait. The kids running for president were scheduled to speak last. And they were in alphabetical order, so Georgie’s would be the very last speech.

  I can’t remember all the speeches (and even if I did, you wouldn’t want me to write about them, because most of them were borrrr-ring!), but here are the highlights:

  1. One girl, running for spirit captain, did a cheer, threw some pom-poms in the air, and ended with a split. (I figured that’s what spirit captains need to know, so I voted for her later.)

  2. A guy came out, screamed “Hi!” into the microphone, said “Vote for me,” and walked off. He forgot to say his name or what office he was running for. The audience loved it, but since I didn’t know his name, I bet lots of other kids didn’t either. (I can’t be positive, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t vote for him.)