Cartboy and the Time Capsule
Page 7
“No. I think you should know.”
Mr. Tupkin rubbed his bow tie, looked at me with this kind of sad face, and then he said, “I’m giving you a C plus.”
“But . . . I barely passed the final exam.”
“I know.”
“And I almost failed the midterm.”
“I know.”
“I gave a lecture on Lemon Pledge at the Historical Society.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“You mean . . . you actually don’t hate me?”
“Hal, it’s not about whether I like you or not. If there is one thing, just one thing you learn from my history class, it’s that most of those people in the history books are there because they stood up to someone and spoke their mind.”
The funny thing was, I think I understood what Mr. Tupkin was saying.
“But there’s another reason I’m giving you a C plus. I read your time-capsule journal. It was . . . not bad.”
He actually said not bad.
“Those timelines, though. They were ridiculous. I mean, really, monkeys dancing on Mars?”
“Yeah, I guess that was pretty silly. But, it’s possible? Isn’t it?”
“One of the most famous history quotes of all time is by a man named Voltaire. He said, ‘History consists of a series of accumulated imaginative inventions.’ ”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Tupkin, I have no idea what that means.”
“It means yes. It’s possible.”
Voltaire
Lead singer of the band Voltaire
(I'm pretty sure Mr. Tupkin was talking about the guy on the left.)
At the end of the day, I ran into Arnie by our lockers. He was talking to Heather Fukumoto. I’m not sure, but I could swear he was already making plans for next year’s middle school dance.
“Hey, Arnie,” I said.
Arnie turned from Heather to me, but he didn’t say a word.
“It’s okay, Arnie. You don’t have to say anything. I was an idiot, so I totally get why we’re not friends anymore. But I wanted to tell you how to get to Level Fourteen on RavenCave. It’s the least I could do.”
I explained to Arnie that you have to take Susie and her scythe into an even bigger cave where she battles humongous bats, eels with giant jaws, and the stalagmite witch.
“It’s hard. Really hard,” I said. “But it’s doable. You just have to make sure Susie keeps the scythe with her all the time. And that she never lets go.”
Arnie walked over, put his arms around me, and gave me a manpat.
“I should have told you what I was doing with Ryan, Hal. I guess I wanted it to be a surprise. Sorry.”
I could tell that Arnie had forgiven me for calling him a traitor. And that he and I were gonna go back to being best friends.
Sure, maybe he’d still chase after girls. And he’d probably get another phone, and talk for hours in front of me like he always does. But it was better than the opposite: no Arnie at all, no having a friend who knows you better than anyone else. Like, for example, right that very second, even though I didn’t say anything, he could tell something was wrong.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“I got a C plus in history.”
“You don’t seem too happy about it.”
“I am. But, it’s just that my dad is still saying I need a B to get my own room.”
“Well Hal, I’ve got a little history quote of my own to tell you. Goes something like this: Throughout the ages, whenever a kid has wanted his own room, a little begging never hurt.”
I heard what Arnie was saying, and I decided to take his advice. As soon as I got home from school, I went into the spare room where my dad was fixing a blender.
“Hey, Dad?” I asked. “Even though I didn’t get a B in history, do you think there’s a chance I could get my own room?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“How about if Arnie and I finish building the shed this summer?”
Suddenly, my dad looked up at me with a serious look on his face. “I’m not sure you’re going to have time to build a shed this summer.”
“Well, there’s no school for three months. Seems like plenty of time to me. I mean, it’s not like I’ll be bogged down with lots of history homework or anything. . . .”
I smiled, but the look on my dad’s face got even more serious, and my smile went away fast.
“I don’t think this summer is going to be exactly what you’re expecting, Hal.”
“But . . . you agree that summer is for relaxing, giving the old brain some time to recharge. Right, Dad?”
My dad put his hand on a piece of paper that was sticking out of the pocket of his work shirt. I couldn’t tell exactly what the paper was. But I could swear there were some words in colonial-looking letters on the front.
“Right, Dad?” I asked again, trying to hide the quiver in my voice.
But all he said was, “We’ll see, Hal. We’ll see.”
Acknowledgments
Thank you, Beau and Charlie, for contributing so much. This book is yours too.
Dad, Mom, Yve, Rob, Cara, Duff, Lynn, Greg, Aida, Allison, Jamie, Monica, Anna, Hilary, Griff, Steffani, Sintra, Wendy, Frances, Eve, Peter, Leo, Lynn B., Jill, Alison, Heather, Stacy, Maddie, Dave, Jan, and Ian—thank you for all your help and support.
Thank you, Laura Dail and Susan Chang. It’s an honor to work with you both.
And thank you to Bianca Howell, who never gave up and inspired me to do the same.
About the Author
L. A. Campbell grew up in Park Ridge, New Jersey, and attended the University of Colorado, graduating with a degree in journalism. She started her own ad agency, which won awards for work on such brands as Comedy Central and New York magazine. Cartboy and the Time Capsule is her first book. She lives in New York City with her husband and two children.