“The District Donnybrook is in a few weeks,” I reminded them. “The competition will be stiffer than the Subtractions and Averagely Mediocre.” Seeing my point, the rest of the band nodded. “Right now, we need to focus on the competition and worry about school stuff later. Trust me, lots more homework and tests will be waiting for us after the competition.”
I must have been convincing because the band eventually agreed to all of the practices—even the one on Monday, the day before the big spelling test. Beena and Meena left the cafeteria and headed to the library to study. Daniela went to talk to Mr. Papernick about something she didn’t understand in the previous day’s homework. Sludge dug deep into the bottom of his bag and fished out a beat-up history text book. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Just trying to manage my time better, bro,” he smiled.
Soon, I was left sitting alone. I noticed blabbermouth Eldrick Hooperberg heading my way. He looked like he was walking with a purpose. His expression was determined—or at least as determined as he could muster. There was no way I was going to let him ruin my perfect day. I gave him a dirty look. Before he could open his mouth, I grabbed my stuff and darted out of the cafeteria.
That evening, my family surprised me and Daniela with a celebratory chocolate cake.
“To the band,” toasted my mom as we all clinked glasses of apple juice.
“To Olaf!” toasted Abigail.
“Did I ever tell you about my high school band?” asked my dad, doing the moonwalk. “We lasted three weeks before breaking up. The usual band politics: our sound, our lyrics, whether to sing in French or English.”
Josh bolted after wolfing down three pieces of cake. Daniela had already excused herself to wash her hair. My mom “suggested” that Abigail go watch TV. Something was up.
She got right to the point. “We still have a deal, Adam. District Donnybrook or not, we are holding you to it.”
“I’ve done everything you said,” I told them. “I’ve gotten some sort of B on all of my tests.”
“We spoke to Mr. Papernick and he told us that you’re not paying attention in class again. He says you’re scribbling in a notebook instead of listening to him,” said my dad.
“No more writing lyrics in class,” ordered my mother.
“But I’ve learned tons of new words from writing so many new songs,” I argued. “Last week, I was working on a protest song about the crummy food in the J.R. Wilcott cafeteria. It was really hard to find words that rhyme with lasagna, banana and hoagie, but I managed to do it and learned that Banya is a little village in south-east Bulgaria, Ghana is a country in Africa, and Muskogee is a town in eastern Oklahoma, on the Arkansas River. I’m totally going to ace the next geography test!”
“Yogi also rhymes with hoagie,” said my dad. “A guy who practices yoga. You could have used that. Or maybe, instead of asking for hoagies you could have just used a more common name like submarine sandwich and then shortened it to ‘sub.’ A lot of words rhyme with sub—tub, cub, rub, club. Hey, you could have worked in club sandwich.” He started to hum a few notes.
My mom elbowed him sharply in the ribs.
“Right,” he said getting back on track. “It’s great that you’re getting familiar with the globe, Adam, but we have an agreement. B’s in all of your classes. Regardless of whether you’re in a superstar band or not.”
“You have a spelling test next week,” said my mother.
How do parents know everything?
“If you don’t get a B on it, your practices will be cut.”
“But the Donnybrook is in a few weeks! We need to practice every day!”
“You’ll just have to find a way to make time for both school and the band,” said my mother firmly.
There was no arguing with them. This amazing day had suddenly gone south—and it was about to get worse. I had barely made it out of the room before the phone rang. It took me a couple of seconds to recognize Lisa Hutchin’s voice. It sounded much more nasal on the telephone. I held the phone away from my ear.
“He wasn’t there!” she whined.
“Who wasn’t there, Lisa?” I asked, confused. Lisa and I weren’t close friends. In fact, she had never called me before.
“Olaf!” she wailed.
I held the phone even further away from my ear.
“Huh?” I was still confused. “Where was he supposed to be exactly?”
“The mall. Sarah heard from Janine who heard from Raz Keilberg that this week, Olaf has to write a report comparing North American french fries to Swedish french fries. I went to every french-fry stand in Orchard Mall and couldn’t find him.” She lowered her voice a bit. “Can you keep a secret?” She didn’t wait for my answer. “I think Olaf likes me. I could feel a real connection between us when he sang.”
I didn’t know what to tell her. “Well, Lisa, I think he said he was going to Orchard Mall, but to tell you the truth, his mouth was full of cereal when he told me what he was doing today. Combine that with his heavy Swedish accent, and maybe I misunderstood. He could have said Everton Mall or even Aldershot Mall. I really don’t know.”
I tried to change the subject. “Want to hear some of the new lyrics I’ve been working on?”
“No, thanks,” she answered quickly before hanging up.
Ten seconds later the phone rang again. This time it was Sarah Hibbit. I repeated the story about being unable to understand Olaf when he talks with food in his mouth. Sarah was also uninterested in hearing my new lyrics. So were Janine Stroop, Jenny Mitchell, and Marlene Tang. Exhausted and sick of talking about the mall, I finally told my parents to tell any grade six girl who called that I wasn’t home.
But I hadn’t mentioned the grade six boys. I had one more disastrous phone call coming my way that night.
“Adam, telephone!” called my mom from the kitchen.
I was sitting in my bedroom, trying to find a word that rhymed with casserole.
“I’m not taking any more calls!” I yelled back at her.
In some houses, people actually stood in the same room when they wanted to talk. But not in my house. We just yelled through the walls.
“You said you didn’t want any more phone calls from girls,” she bellowed from the bottom of the stairs. “It’s not a girl this time.”
She was getting closer to my bedroom, but we were still a floor apart. I picked up the telephone.
“Hello,” I said wearily.
“Um…uh… hi, Adam,” said the person on the other end of the line. I didn’t recognize the voice immediately. It sounded a bit confused and unsure, which was weird because whoever it was knew he was calling me. Why should he sound so confused?
“I, uh, need to talk to you about something.”
I started to notice a high-pitched quality to the voice. I still couldn’t place it, but I knew I had heard it before.
“It won’t take too long,” said the voice.
Then I noticed a tattletale quality to the voice. Eldrick Hooperberg!
“Do you have a minute?” the voice almost pleaded.
It was the mouldy cherry on my now miserable sundae of a day.
“You’ll want to hear what I have to say,” he said as firmly as possible for him.
“There’s nothing you can say that I am interested in,” I told him wearily.
“You’ll talk to me if you don’t want me to say anything about Swedish Cousin Olaf—or should I say, Cousin Daniela,” said Eldrick.
So he knew the truth about Daniela. Great! I was too exhausted to deal with Eldrick right then, but I figured it would be a good idea to find out if he had a plan hidden up his scrawny sleeve. After all, snitching was part of his repertoire.
“Fine, meet me at my locker tomorrow morning,” I said, hanging up before he had a chance to respond.
I went straight to Daniela’s room and knocked on the door. But it wasn’t Daniela who answered. It was Olaf!
“What do you think, Adam?” asked my new Swe
dish cousin.
Daniela was wearing the blond wig and she had a new black fedora perched on top of it. She wore a pair of funky red sunglasses and black vinyl boots. Lisa, Sarah, and the rest of the girls at school were going to go crazy!
“I went to Orchard Mall after school and picked up a few things,” said Daniela. “But it was hard to get a moment to myself. I swear every girl in the sixth grade was at the mall today. And they kept bugging me to tell them where Olaf went. Finally, I gave in and joined Sarah in the hunt for him.”
“He’s become pretty popular,” I agreed.
“Want to see what else I bought for our famous, Swedish, rock-star cousin?” she asked.
I nodded enthusiastically, forgetting all about my morning meeting with Eldrick Hooperberg.
Eldrick was waiting for me at my locker.
“You’ve got twenty seconds,” I said to him flatly.
“I know the truth about Daniela,” he said quietly.
“And what exactly is that?” I said, playing along with him.
“That she’s Cousin Olaf.”
“So?” I waited to see where he was going with this.
He was getting ready to play his hand. “I’ll stay quiet about it if you give me something in return.”
“Yeah? And what is it that you want?” I waited for some stupid request like a date with Daniela or to stop giving him dirty looks when he passed by my locker.
“I want to join Sick on a Snow Day.”
Finally, he had shown his cards—and he was carrying the ace of blackmail! His plan was so bold that I was almost impressed.
He mustered up all of his courage. “Let me play triangle in your band or I’ll tell the whole school the truth about Olaf.”
“And what if you did?” I said, calling his bluff. “You think the rest of the school really cares if it’s Daniela or Olaf who’s singing?”
“Yes! And I suspect that it’s not just the rest of the school that will care if Olaf ceases to exist. What about Daniela? I’m guessing that she needs him,” said Eldrick. “Besides, look around, Adam.”
I looked to the right and saw Lisa, Sarah, Janine, and about a dozen other grade sixers. They had the Z’s cornered.
“Where will he be today?” demanded Sarah.
“Is he going to be at Aldershot Mall?” asked Lisa and Sarah.
I looked left.
“I bet he can dunk a basketball. Remember when he jumped off the amp? The guy can fly,” I heard Joe Jacobs say as he hobbled by on crutches. Joe was captain of the Wilcott basketball team. He had torn up some cartilage in his left knee last week.
“And did you see his scissor kicks?” said Joe’s best friend, Anil Kapul. “I bet we can recruit him for the track-and-field team. We could use him in the 100-metre hurdles.”
I looked back at Eldrick. “Okay, so he’s popular. But it still doesn’t mean that I’ll let you in the band.”
“Look at the bulletin board,” commanded Eldrick.
It was wall-papered with blue and yellow flyers—the official colours of Sweden. Looking closer, I read the thick, black text: Vote Olaf Danielson for President.
I was confused. “We already have a school president.”
“I heard some kids talking. They think he’d make a good president because ‘Detention Blues’ really captures how they feel about school.”
“He didn’t even write the song!” I said.
But it didn’t matter. I looked around and took in the whole scene. Joe and Anil were drawing up basketball plays for Olaf. Janine cornered Meena and demanded to be told Olaf’s whereabouts. A bunch of grade sevens walked by wearing the same type of oversized sunglasses Olaf wore onstage. Eldrick was right. Olaf was the most popular guy in school!
“Your band is good,” said Eldrick. “But your Swedish singer makes it great. We voted for you because of Olaf. All the girls love him and the guys think he’s super cool. Who will support you at the District Donnybrook if there’s no Olaf ? No one from Wilcott will show up and cheer for you and you know it. In fact, everyone will be really mad if they find out you duped them. You’ll have no chance of winning the District Donnybrook if you don’t have the school behind you.”
Eldrick had me trapped.
I tried a new tactic. “You would blow Daniela’s cover? You would really do that to her?”
“I really want to be in this band,” he answered simply.
I still wasn’t positive if he would rat us out, but I had no way of knowing for sure. I played my last card. “We’ve already written all of our material and there are no triangle solos.”
“Don’t care,” said Eldrick, smiling. “I’m an auxiliary percussionist. I can play a bunch of instruments.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see something yellow and blue flying from the school flagpole—the Swedish national flag.
I sighed. Eldrick was in.
As I headed to band practice, I debated what to tell Daniela, Sludge, and the Z’s. I didn’t want to admit I had been blackmailed.
Triangles—they’re the new electric guitars. Too much!
Triangles—I wanted to funk up the band for the Donnybrook. Not believable enough.
An auxiliary percussionist will add layers to our sound. Maybe. It was just technical enough to sound believable.
As it turned out, I didn’t need any excuses. Eldrick was already there, holding court with the rest of Sick on a Snow Day. They must have assumed that the two of us had solved our differences.
“Great idea—” started Beena.
“—to add an auxiliary percussionist,” finished Meena.
Eldrick smiled shyly.
“The more instruments, the merrier,” agreed Sludge.
They were still riding high from our victory.
“Nice,” whispered Daniela in my ear. “I’m glad you two have made up. I knew he wouldn’t have turned you in on purpose.”
I gritted my teeth and nodded.
“I’ve been thinking about our name,” said Eldrick, gaining confidence. “It kind of lacks pizzazz, doesn’t it?”
Sludge and the Z’s nodded vigorously. Daniela shot Eldrick a look. For once, he was smart enough to shut up.
“Listen,” I told the band. “I only have an hour, so we’d better make it count.”
“Hot date?” grinned Sludge.
“With a dictionary. I need to ace the next spelling test, but I just can’t get my head around these stupid I’s and E’s. Who really cares? Ugh. And I’ll be eighty by the time I figure out the way to spell because.”
The Z’s nodded in sympathy.
“If only I could remember the word list as easily as I remember our lyrics!” I joked.
Eldrick reached into his pocket and retrieved this week’s word list. “Neighbour, weigh, friend, receive, dessert, because…”
“Why am I not surprised?” I mumbled to no one in particular.
“Meena, Beena, when I got in here you guys were messing around with a few chords on your guitars. Can you play them again?”
The Z’s grabbed their instruments and began to play. It sounded pretty good. Eldrick glanced down at his word list and cleared his throat. Daniela glanced at me. What was he up to?
He started to sing.
Geography, Algebra, English and History—
Why we get so much homework is a mystery.
It takes up all of our precious free time.
Is having an hour for PlayStation such a crime?
Big Elephants Can Always Understand Small Elephants. Yeah Yeah Yeah.
Big Elephants Can Always Understand Small Elephants. Yeah Yeah Yeah.
There are so many things I could do in those hours after dinner:
TV, computer games, web design for a beginner,
Calling the cute girl in homeroom or playing sports—
Instead I’m stuck inside writing book reports.
Big Elephants Can Always Understand Small Elephants. Yeah Yeah Yeah.
Big Elephants Can Alway
s Understand Small Elephants. Yeah Yeah Yeah.
He sang the chorus one more time. “I call it ‘The Homework Tragedy.’ It’s kind of a companion piece to ‘Detention Blues’.”
I had to admit the tune was kind of catchy, but the lyrics made no sense. “Big elephants can always understand small elephants? What does that even mean? It doesn’t go with the rest of the song.”
“Big Elephants Can Always Understand Small Elephants,” repeated Eldrick, slowly and deliberately. “Put the first letters together and you get BECAUSE. It’s a little study trick I use. You said you wished you could remember this week’s word list as easily as you remember our lyrics. You should have no problem if the lyrics and the word list are one and the same.”
The idea wasn’t half bad.
“Play it again, E!” bellowed Sludge.
The band started up. After they sang the chorus, Sludge chimed in:
I before E, except after C—I just need some time to be free!
I before E, except after C—All of this homework leaves no time to be me!
Suddenly Daniela added:
Also when saying A, like neighbour or weigh.
I know it’s cliché—but send this homework away!
Then everyone joined in the chorus:
Big Elephants Can Always Understand Small Elephants. Yeah Yeah Yeah.
Big Elephants Can Always Understand Small Elephants. Yeah Yeah Yeah.
The song sounded pretty cool with all the different harmonies. I could feel my head bobbing up and down despite myself. Still, I wasn’t sold on the chorus—especially because it was written by a blackmailer.
“Isn’t everyone going to wonder what we’re singing about? First we’re singing a blues tune about homework, and suddenly we’re harmonizing about the heartfelt connection between zoo animals?”
“Actually, I think it adds a cool sense of mystery to the song,” said Sludge. “I loved the Perogies’ song, ‘Filled with Potato and Cheese’ because, for the longest time, I didn’t know what they were singing about. At first I thought they were saying ‘Fight the Tomatoes and Peas.’ I thought it was another protest song about that new vegan pasta the caf’ experimented with last month. Then, when I actually figured out what they were saying, I thought it was about Mr. Papernick. You know how he’s always lecturing us about making the most of our abilities. Blah, blah, blah. I thought the Perogies were talking about how he’s full of hot air. Not until the caf’ held their annual international lunch day did I learn that the Perogies were singing about stuffed dumplings.”
The BEDMAS Conspiracy Page 5