by Barbara Park
No. It can’t be, I thought. They’re not asking him for his autograph, are they?
I looked closer.
They were! All those dumb kids were actually asking T.J. to sign his name! Now he’d be more obnoxious than ever.
I hurried to my classroom. If only I could get to my desk before school started, maybe my teacher would keep everyone from making fun of me.
When I walked into the room, Mrs. Grayson was sitting at her desk. She looked at me and started to grin.
“Ooga ooga,” she said.
I sucked in my cheeks.
“It wasn’t ‘ooga ooga,’ Mrs. Grayson,” I said, annoyed. “ ‘Ooga ooga’ is the sound an old-fashioned car makes. What I said was ‘booga booga.’ ”
“Oh,” she said, looking a little embarrassed. “Sorry. It was hard to hear you from the stands.”
Okay. Now that she had that out of her system, maybe she’d help me out.
“Mrs. Grayson? I was wondering … would it be okay if I sat in the back of the room today?” I asked. “To tell you the truth, I’m not really sure what’s going to happen when the rest of the kids get here. And I’m not really feeling that well.”
Before she had a chance to answer, the bell rang and everyone started piling into class. T.J. Stoner was the first one through the door.
“Hey! Look who it is!” he hollered. “It’s Booga Booga Frankovitch!”
Mrs. Grayson raised her eyebrows. “I see what you mean,” she said to me. “Do you want to go to the nurse?”
I glared at T.J.
“No. Forget it,” I said. “If I feel like I’m going to toss my cookies, I’ll just aim for T.J. He’s a pretty good catch.”
T.J. pretended to shiver. “Ooooo … what a threat,” he said. “If you toss your cookies like you toss a baseball, you’ll miss me by a mile.”
“Okay. That’s enough, boys,” said Mrs. Grayson. “Sit. Both of you.”
I was glad she stepped in. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have a comeback.
As soon as he was in his seat, T.J. raised his hand. “Mrs. Grayson, I’ve been signing autographs outside, and there are a couple I didn’t get to yet. Would you mind if I finished signing while you’re taking attendance?”
Mrs. Grayson practically burst with pride. “Why, certainly not, T.J. I think I can allow the Little League Pitching Champion to sign a few autographs.”
Then she stood up at her desk.
“Boys and girls,” she said loudly. “In case any of you missed it on the news, our very own T.J. Stoner has been entered into the Little League record books. He even made the national news, didn’t you, T.J.?”
He nodded proudly. “ESPN,” he said.
Mrs. Grayson continued. “T.J. Stoner now holds the official record for the most games ever won in a row in the history of Little League baseball. And it’s really been exciting to have him in our class this year.”
She started to clap. Then everyone else clapped, too.
Everyone except me, that is. I was busy scribbling a message to Brian. It read:
Say something nice about me and I’ll give you five bucks after school.
Brian’s hand shot in the air like a bullet.
“Yes, Brian?” said Mrs. Grayson.
“Mrs. Grayson, I think we’re also fortunate to have Alex Frankovitch in our class this year. If you ask me, it took a tremendous amount of courage to stand in front of a crowd full of strangers and make a complete idiot of himself, like Alex did on Saturday.”
Everybody cracked up. Even Mrs. Grayson couldn’t keep from laughing.
If I ever become famous, Brian Dunlop will be the first friend I’ll dump.
The rest of the day I tried to stay as quiet as I could. I wanted to make it as easy as possible for people to ignore me. But it didn’t do any good. All day long, kids kept walking past my desk, whispering “booga booga” in my ear. Then they’d walk away laughing, like they were the first person in the history of the universe to have thought of such a clever thing.
By the middle of the afternoon I’d totally had it with the booga booga jokes. That’s when Harold Marshall raised his hand and asked if he could sharpen his pencil. Harold’s a troublemaker, so right away I was suspicious.
I watched him get out of his seat and turn down my aisle. I was positive he was going to try something. Only this time, things were going to be different.
As Harold got closer to my seat, I got ready for him.
Here he comes … here he comes … okay … okay … NOW!
Just as Harold started to lean over and whisper, I quickly turned my cheek and leaned in his direction.
Then I jumped up and hollered. “SICK! SICK!” I yelled, wiping off my face. “HAROLD MARSHALL JUST KISSED ME! HOW DISGUSTING!”
Harold turned bright red. “I did not! I did not kiss you!” he sputtered.
I pointed at my face. “Then how did my cheek get so wet? Huh, Harold?” I asked. “Mrs. Grayson, can I go to the bathroom and wash it off? It’s totally slimy and slobbery.”
Mrs. Grayson waved me out the door and ordered Harold to sit down. As I left the room, I saw several kids covering their faces as Harold passed by. It was the high point of my day.
Unfortunately, though, making fun of Harold didn’t really put an end to my problem. As soon as I got back from the bathroom, the booga boogas started all over again.
I looked at the clock. Forty-five minutes to go. I didn’t know if I could make it that long. I was really feeling down. Nothing I ever did turned out right. Nothing. Even when I did something well, like bunting, it turned out wrong.
Face it, Alex. The only thing you’re good at is being a runt. You’re nothing. A big, fat nothing!
I put my head down and rested it on my desk. I felt my eyes start filling up with tears.
Great. This is perfect. Now big, fat nothing Alex Frankovitch is going to cry in front of the whole class. A perfect ending to a perfect day.
Suddenly, I heard my name being called. “Alex Frankovitch?” said the voice. “Is Alex Frankovitch there?”
Quickly, I wiped my face and looked up. The voice was coming from the loudspeaker on the wall. Oh, geez! It was our principal, Mr. Vernon!
“Mrs. Grayson? Can you hear me? Is Alex Frankovitch in class right now?” he asked.
“Yes he is, Mr. Vernon,” she answered. “Would you like me to send him down to your office?”
“No,” said Mr. Vernon. “I have an announcement to make and I just wanted to be sure that he was there.”
T.J. looked at me and laughed. We both knew what was coming. Mr. Vernon was going to take this opportunity to make a couple of booga booga jokes so the whole school could have a good laugh before the bell.
He clicked on the speakers to the other classrooms.
“Attention, boys and girls, may I have your attention, please? First of all, would like to congratulate T.J. Stoner on his brilliant Little League performance. The entire school is extremely proud of his achievement, and I think that we should all give him a big round of applause.”
He stopped talking so that every kid in the whole school could applaud. You could hear it echoing up and down the halls.
“I have already spoken to T.J. today,” Mr. Vernon continued, “and he has agreed to stay after school in case any of you would like to stop by and get his autograph. We’ll have a table set up for him in the Media Center.”
T.J. put his arms behind his head and leaned his chair back on two legs like a big shot. One little slip would have sent him sprawling … but no such luck.
Mr. Vernon’s voice came back on. “Okay … now for the surprise. There’s someone else in Mrs. Grayson’s sixth-grade room who also deserves congratulations. It seems that Alex Frankovitch has also made quite a name for himself.”
I swallowed hard. Here it comes, I thought. Tears started to fill my eyes again, but I forced them back into my head.
“I have just received news from his mother that today, Alex Frankovit
ch received a letter in the mail announcing that he is the winner of the national Kitty Fritters Television Contest.”
What? What did he just say?
“As his prize, Alex will get to appear in a national television commercial!” continued Mr. Vernon. “Congratulations, Alex! We’re all very excited about having one of our students become a big TV star!”
For a second, the whole class was stunned. No one could believe what Mr. Vernon had said. Especially me! I only wrote that letter as a joke! I was making fun of Kitty Fritters! How could I have won?
At last, Mrs. Grayson stood up and started to clap. Then the rest of the class clapped with her. She told me to take a bow, but my legs were so weak I couldn’t get out of my chair. So I just waved and let it go at that.
Suddenly, I saw my mother standing in the doorway. Mrs. Grayson went to greet her. They called me into the hall.
Mom hugged me and tousled my hair. “How was that for a great surprise? I was coming to tell you in person, but I happened to see Mr. Vernon on the way down the hall, and we decided it would be more fun to do it this way. Were you surprised?”
I nodded. It’s hard to form words when your mouth is hanging wide open in shock.
“When do you get to do the commercial?” asked Mrs. Grayson.
“I … I … I’m not sure,” I managed, at last. “I mean I don’t even remember what the prize was. I just entered that contest for laughs.”
My mother waved a piece of paper in front of my face. “Well, it’s no joke anymore,” she said. “It says here that the commercial will be made in New York City, sometime within the next six months. They also said that your essay was the craziest, most original entry they had ever received, and they can’t wait to meet you!”
Mrs. Grayson shook my hand. “There. Now I bet someday I’ll be able to say I shook hands with a major movie star.”
She and my mother both laughed. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought she might be right. After all, I am an original. And I’m certainly crazy. I smiled at the thought of it. What more could Hollywood want?
After a few minutes, my mother went home and Mrs. Grayson and I went back in the room. Since it was almost time for the bell, she told us to put our work away. Then she called T.J. to the front of the room with me.
“Since this is such a special day for our class, why don’t we spend the rest of it interviewing our two class celebrities like they do on TV?”
Reluctantly, T.J. sat down on the edge of her desk next to me. It was pretty clear that a lot of the joy had gone out of his day. He really hated sharing the spotlight.
“Okay,” said Mrs. Grayson. “Who wants to ask the first question?”
Harold Marshall jumped right up.
“I have a question for Alex,” he said, still hoping to get back at me. “What exactly is a booga booga?”
Thoughtfully, I rubbed my chin. “Hmm … well, Harold, it’s a little hard to explain,” I said. “A booga booga is sort of this gooky, yellowish, slimy … wait a minute! What a stroke of luck. If everyone will turn around quickly, I believe there’s a booga booga stuck on Harold’s front tooth!”
Harold turned red again. He closed his mouth and sat down. Some kids never learn.
After that, nobody gave me any more trouble. T.J. and I started answering questions. Melissa Phillips asked each of us who our most famous relative was.
T.J. said it was his brother, Matt Stoner.
I said it was my grandmother, Tino Martinez.
Most of the questions were aimed at T.J. But I didn’t mind it at all. It felt good just sitting up there, you know? Just sitting in the front of the room like some big shot celebrity.
Every once in a while, I glanced over at T.J. as he was talking. The kid was a jerk, all right. But for the first time, I began to think that maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault. I had a feeling that being treated like a big shot celebrity can turn almost any kid into a jerk if they’re not careful. Even a wonderful person such as myself.
Pretty soon the bell rang. I went to my desk and picked up my homework books. As I passed by Mrs. Grayson, she winked.
I winked back. What do you know? After all these years I think it’s finally happened. I think I’ve finally found a teacher who appreciates my sense of humor.
Outside the building, Brian was waiting for me. He and I still had a score to settle.
“Oh, no, you don’t, Brian,” I said. “Just because I’ve suddenly become famous and popular, it doesn’t mean you can come crawling back to me. I’m not forgetting what you said back there today.”
Brian looked puzzled. “Who’s crawling back? I’m waiting to collect the five bucks you owe me for saying something nice.”
“Idiot? Idiot is nice?”
Brian threw his hands in the air. “Man, that’s just like you, Alex!” he complained. “Already you’ve forgotten the compliment! I mean if I had only called you an idiot, I would understand why you were upset. But I called you a complete idiot. A one hundred percent idiot. Come on, Alex. Where’s the appreciation here?”
I couldn’t help but smile. The thing is, I am a complete idiot. So how could I stay mad at my best friend?
We started walking home together. A couple of kids came up and congratulated me on the TV commercial. No one asked for an autograph, but that will probably come later.
On the way home, Brian and I talked a lot about my future as a comedian. We decided that as long as I’ve already gotten my first break into show business, I might as well go on to become disgustingly rich and famous. Brian said we could be a team. He volunteered to help me write my material. Material is the word comedians use when they talk about their jokes.
Even now, I can’t believe it. Me, skinny little Alex Frankovitch … a star.
I wonder if the Kitty Fritters people will want me to read my winning essay on the commercial. Probably not. The part about how they taste like rubber wouldn’t be good for business.
They’ll probably just want to use a close-up of my adorable little face.
I just hope they don’t want me to do anything dumb. Like one time I saw a cereal commercial where they made this little kid dress up like a raisin and dance around a big bowl of oatmeal. They wouldn’t make me do something stupid like that, would they?
Hmmm. Maybe it’s time for another little talk with you-know-who …
“Hello, God? It’s Alex again. Listen … as you’ve probably heard, I’m going to be on a TV commercial soon. And I would really appreciate it if you’d keep an eye out for me. I mean, I don’t mind making a fool of myself once in a while, God, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not dress up like a Kitty Fritter and dance around a cat dish. I do have my limits, you know.
“Are you there, God? Are you paying attention? If you would just do me this one little favor, I promise to stop singing ‘Ahchoo’ at the end of the hymns in church and start singing ‘Amen’ like everyone else. How’s that? Is it a deal, God? If it is, maybe you could show me by making the wind start blowing.
“I’m waiting … I’m waiting here, God …
“Hey! I saw it! That little leaf on that tree over there. It blew in the wind! I’m sure of it! Thank you! Thank you, God! I knew I could count on you!
“And remember, if you ever need a favor, you can count on me, too.
“Just look me up in New York or Hollywood.
“I’ll be in the Yellow Pages …
“Under STAR.”
BarBara ParK is one of today’s funniest authors. Her Junie B. Jones books are consistently on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists. Her middle-grade novels, which include Skinnybones, The Kid in the Red Jacket, Mick Harte Was Here, and The Graduation of Jake Moon, have won more than forty children’s book awards. Barbara Park holds a BS in education. She has two grown sons and lives with her husband, Richard, in Arizona.
Kids love Barbara Park’s books so much,
they’ve given them all these awards:
Arizo
na Young Reader’s Award
Georgia Children’s Book Award
Great Stone Face Award (New Hampshire)
IRA-CBC Children’s Choice
IRA Young Adults’ Choice
Maud Hart Lovelace Award (Minnesota)
Milner Award (Georgia)
Nevada Children’s Book Award
OMAR Award (Indiana)
Rhode Island Children’s Book Award
Tennessee Children’s Choice Book Award
Texas Bluebonnet Award
Utah Children’s Book Award
Young Hoosier Book Award (Indiana)
It was bis big break … or was it?
ALMOST STARRING SKINNYBONES
by Barbara Park
When Alex Frankovitch—better known as Skinnybones—gets the chance to star in a TV commercial, it seems as though his dreams have come true. Who cares if it’s just a cat food commercial and he plays a six-year-old wearing a dorky coonskin cap? It’s still national television—and a rare opportunity to thumb his nose at his classmates. So why does the Alex Frankovitch Fan Club attract only two members—a cat and a toddler? And why do all the kids laugh hysterically every time they see him? Is this the end of Skinnybones’ career as a Big Celebrity?
“Park is laugh-out-loud funny!”
—Booklist
“Once again demonstrating her remarkable ear for dialogue, Park also shows a good sense of timing in this fast-paced outing.”
—School Library Journal
PUBLISHED BY RANDOM HOUSE, INC.
OPERATION: DUMP THE CHUMP
Ever since his little brother, Robert (not so affectionately known as the Slobert), showed up, he’s specialized in ruining Oscar’s life. He even took Oscar’s underwear to school for show-and-tell! Oscar decides he’s had enough and comes up with a wickedly brilliant, top-secret scheme to get the ultimate revenge. It’ll take stealth, courage, and determination. But if he can carry off Operation: Dump the Chump without a hitch, he’ll have a present better than money can buy—a Slobert-free summer!