The World's Greatest Underachiever and the Best Worst Summer Ever

by Henry Winkler

  I looked over at Papa Pete. He had a special twinkle in his eye.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked him.

  “Depends on what you’re thinking,” said Papa Pete.

  “I’m thinking that I could do my Einstein presentation dressed up as him. I vill discuss zee theory of relativity dressed as Einstein zee genius.”

  Big Eddie burst out laughing.

  “You’ve got a lot of imagination, kid,” he said.

  Yes, imagination. That was the key. Didn’t Einstein himself say “imagination is more important than knowledge”?

  Frankie and Ashley bought some plastic Hawaiian flowers and palm leaves. Me, I bought the collar and bow tie, the wig and the moustache. And a bottle of something called spirit gum, which Big Eddie said is what real actors use to stick fake hair on to their skin. I didn’t want my moustache falling off in the middle of my presentation.

  If I had been the skipping type, I would have skipped out of Big Eddie’s shop. I felt fantastic. Suddenly, I couldn’t wait until Friday. I was going to morph into Albert Einstein, right in front of my summer-school class. I would be zee great man of zee science world.

  It would be just like Mr Rock said – I was going to become the famous person I admired. I would get an A for sure. As Albert Einstein himself would say, it was in zee bag.

  Of course, I still had to study. I knew that. I wasn’t going to get an A for my presentation just by standing up and talking in a bad German accent with a crazy wig on. But wouldn’t it be great if things could really happen that way in real life?

  So I spent the next two days at school hard at work on my project. On Wednesday, I brought my library books to class in a carrier bag, and Mr Rock helped me read them during free time. I took notes on index cards, so I’d remember the important parts of Einstein’s life and his theories when I got up to give my presentation.

  The more I learned about Albert Einstein, the more I liked him. I’m not sure exactly how, but his theory of relativity showed that time travel to the future is actually possible if you fly fast enough through space. Where do I get a ticket? Also, he refused to wear socks because they would get holes in them. I am so glad he can’t open my sock drawer. Anyway, those are both pretty interesting facts, if you ask me.

  “Hank, I’m really proud of the way you’re working,” Mr Rock said to me on Thursday, right before lunch.

  That made Joelle mad. She had been especially crabby since Mr Rock took away her mobile phone.

  “What about me?” she said. “My work is way better than his.”

  She was doing her presentation on a famous gymnast named Mary Lou Retton who won an Olympic Gold Medal. All Joelle was doing, though, was drawing pictures of her in different coloured leotards.

  Before Mr Rock could answer Joelle, a fifth-grader named Lauren let out a scream from the other side of the room.

  “What’s wrong, Lauren?” Mr Rock asked.

  “Luke Whitman is trying to smell my lunch!”

  Mr Rock left us in a hurry to try to get Luke’s nose out of Lauren’s lunch box.

  Joelle leaned over to me. “Your handwriting looks like a monkey wrote it,” she whispered.

  “At least I’m writing important facts,” I snapped. “You’re just colouring tights.”

  “For your information, I’m going to be a world-famous leotard designer when I grow up,” she said. “My boyfriend, Nick, says I’m going to make a million dollars.”

  “Right, and my name is Bernice.”

  “Why do you always say that?” she said. “Your name isn’t Bernice.”

  I could see that Joelle and Nick had the same sense of humour, which, by the way, does not exist.

  By the time lunch came round, I couldn’t wait to get away from her. I went out to the playground to see if I could hang out with Frankie and Ashley, but the Junior Explorers had gone over to the pool at the Paris Hotel up the street for swimming lessons. So I went back to the classroom, got my Einstein book and sat down at one of the lunch tables to read.

  That’s right, you heard me correctly. I was reading. By choice. For fun. Well, maybe not for fun, but still, it’s pretty amazing, huh?

  “What are you reading, Hank?”

  It was my little pal, Mason.

  “Hey, Mason. This is a book on Albert Einstein.”

  “He has funny hair.”

  “I agree, dude, but under that hair, he’s got quite a brain.”

  “Why?”

  Mason pulled himself up on to the bench and sat next to me. He didn’t just sit next to me, he snuggled right in close to me and put his head on my shoulder so he could see the pictures in the book. By the way, if you’re keeping track, that’s the twelfth cutest thing about kindergartners. When they sit next to you, they snuggle like little puppies.

  So I read to him. Wow, that was a first. I was actually reading to someone else. If I got stuck on a word, I’d take a guess, and that was good enough for Mason. Amazing as it seems, there were plenty of words I did know how to read, and he seemed to really like hearing them. We read about where Einstein was born and his two children. We read about how he became the most famous scientist in the world. We read how he liked to play the violin and that he even gave his violin a name. He called it Lina. We read how he loved to do puzzles and sail on boats. And we learned that even though his theories led to the creation of the atomic bomb, Einstein himself said, “I am willing to fight for peace.”

  Mason didn’t move a muscle the whole time I was reading to him. He just sat there listening. And me, I had only one thought:

  Look at me, world. I’m reading to someone else. I just can’t get over it!!!

  That night after dinner, Frankie, Ashley and I met in the clubhouse for what Frankie called a dress rehearsal of our magic trick. Frankie loves to be prepared. He would have made a great Cub Scout except that he wouldn’t like wearing that yellow scarf. If the Cub Scouts ever decide to lose the scarf, Frankie’s in.

  “OK, guys,” he said, checking his watch. “In exactly twenty and a half hours we’re going to wow ’em and zow ’em. Ashweena, talk to me.”

  “Costume, completed,” said Ashley. She twirled around to show us her blue trousers and top that she had covered with green rhinestones in the shape of ocean waves. There were yellow rhinestones for the sun and red rhinestones for coconuts. She was very sparkly.

  “Princess Leilani, you look great,” Frankie said. “Music all set?”

  “Ukulele, tuned,” Ashley answered, strumming the first notes of her crazy hooky lau song. “All four strings pulled tight.”

  “Zip, where are you?” Frankie called out. “Report in.”

  I had been standing behind a column of cardboard boxes, where I had gone to change into my costume. I had the green velvet cushions strapped to my feet and the palm leaves we’d got from Big Eddie’s wrapped round my waist. I had tried to tie the coconuts round my upper arms, but it was hard using only one hand and my teeth. I stepped out from behind the boxes and raised my arms in a very kingly manner.

  “Your coconuts are sagging,” Ashley said.

  “So help me. There’s only so much a guy can do with his teeth.”

  I took a step towards Ashley, but I had forgotten about my cushion shoes. I tripped over the boxes big time and landed headfirst on the sofa.

  “King Kahuna Huna, your butt is flapping in the breeze,” Frankie said, cracking up.

  “Go ahead and laugh. I need a hand here, friends of mine.”

  Ashley and Frankie were laughing too hard to help, so that left me bent over like a pretzel, wedged between the cushions and the back of the sofa. There was a lot of dust in that sofa, and when I breathed in, it flew all the way up to the top of my nose.

  Ah … ah … ah … ah-choo!

  Man, I sneezed so hard that the force of it unwedged my head. That made Frankie and Ashley laugh even harder. I have to admit, it was pretty funny. I laughed too.

  “Can we be serious here?” I said
, after I had caught my breath. “I want to finish this in time to rehearse my Einstein speech. If I blow that, King Kahuna Huna is a no-show.”

  “Zip, you’re freaking yourself out,” Frankie said.

  “I’m a little nervous,” I confessed. “There’s a lot of information to remember.”

  “You’ve got it all written down on notecards,” Ashley said. “You’ll be fine.”

  “You’d be fine, Ash, but I may not be.”

  “Zip, what’s the rule?” Frankie asked, looking me in the eyeballs.

  “Breathe,” I answered.

  “Right. Take air in through your nose and let it out through your mouth. Remember, oxygen is power.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t just know. Do.”

  I took a deep yoga-style breath, the way Frankie’s mum, who is a yoga teacher, had always taught us to do. I must have dislodged some of the dust that was still hanging around up there in my nose, because I sneezed so hard, my coconuts sagged again.

  “Let’s run through our act before you lose your coconuts altogether,” Frankie said.

  The rehearsal was a little shaky, but we got through it. Ashley strummed her ukulele and danced, and Frankie did a few magic chants that he made up himself. When he said the magic word, zengawii, I leapt out from behind the sofa. Of course, at the actual talent show, I was going to leap out from a cloud of lava smoke. We were going to use chunks of dry ice and pour water on them to create the lava smoke. We couldn’t rehearse that part in our clubhouse, because kids can’t handle dry ice themselves. It can burn you if you touch it. I think it’s so strange that ice can burn you from being too cold, but trust me, it’s true. Ashley’s mum and dad had agreed to bring the dry ice to the playground for us. They’re both doctors, so it was really nice of them to come home early to help. I guess that’s why Papa Pete calls them the good doctors Wong.

  After we’d finished our Magik 3 rehearsal, Ashley and Frankie sat down on the sofa to listen to me go through my Einstein presentation. It was getting near bedtime, so I didn’t change into my Einstein costume. I have to confess, it felt a little strange to be talking like a German scientist while wearing nothing but palm leaves and foot cushions.

  Maybe it was the Kahuna Huna costume that distracted me. My German accent wasn’t bad, but I just couldn’t keep my facts straight. Even though I had written them down on notecards, it was like my eyes were looking at the sentences, but my brain was jumbling them up. I kept tripping over my words like my tongue was too big for my mouth.

  “I can’t do this!” I yelled out, after I hadn’t been able to pronounce the word relativity for the third time in a row.

  “Remember the Big B, dude,” Frankie said.

  “Frankie, what are you talking about?”

  “Breathe, Zip. Breathe!”

  I took a breath.

  “The word is re-la-tiv-i-ty,” Ashley said, pronouncing it really slowly. “Come on. You know it, Hank.”

  I settled down and kept going. Finally, I came to the end of the presentation.

  “What did you think, guys?” I said, flopping down on the sofa, exhausted. “Will I get an A?”

  Ashley didn’t answer. My heart started to beat faster.

  Frankie jumped in. “It’s definitely a B-plus. And that is a great mark, dude.”

  B-plus? No, not a B-plus.

  Without another word, I jumped up from the sofa, ran out of the clubhouse to the lift and started pushing the button about a hundred times, hoping that it would make the lift come faster.

  I went upstairs rehearsing – not my Einstein speech but what I was going to say to my father. I had to convince him that a B-plus was good enough to let me go to the luau. He had to say yes.

  Hey, I’m not proud. If I had to beg, I would.

  Ten Ways to Beg Your Dad to Say

  Yes When He Wants to Say No

  1. Fall on the floor and pound the carpet, kicking and screaming. Whining is good too.

  2. When he says, “Stop that right away,” stand up, apologize and say you were just kidding.

  3. Make sure you end every sentence with, “Pretty please with a cherry on top.”

  4. Tell him it would be your pleasure to polish every pair of shoes he owns or ever will own, even tennis shoes and flip-flops. And no, there is no tipping required.

  5. Promise him this is the last thing you’ll ever ask for except maybe a car when you’re seventeen and a new PlayStation on your birthday. Oh yeah, and the video games that go with it, but only four of them. OK, five. But after that, nothing.

  6. Swear to keep his mechanical pencils always filled with fresh lead. (WARNING: if your dad isn’t a crossword-puzzle freak like mine, this one may not work as well.)

  7. Try a compliment. Tell him that he’s not going bald, he just looks really good with very short hair.

  8. Trust me, guilt works. Just mention that you know he loves your sister more than you, but it’s OK, because you’re fine with it. It only hurts a tiny little bit.

  9. Don’t try to scare him, but you might mention that if you don’t get what you want, you may have to go and lie down under your bed until you’re forty-five.

  10. Whimper like a puppy.

  11. Go simple and just say please.***

  ***I can’t believe that after all the time we’ve spent together, you’re still surprised that there are eleven reasons on my list of ten. It’s me, Hank. You know I can’t count!

  “Dad, let’s say I only get a B-plus on my Einstein report. Could I still go to the luau and the sleepover?”

  I was standing in our living room. He was sitting in his chair, doing a crossword puzzle. He didn’t answer.

  So I went into begging mode and ran through my list, each and every item. I begged so hard that a rock would have felt sorry for me.

  When the first eleven reasons didn’t work, I even added a twelfth. I told him it would make Cheerio so happy to see me at the luau. I figured that maybe my dad could say no to me but not to our family dog, for heaven’s sake.

  And you know what?

  Nothing worked.

  You heard me. Nothing. Nada.

  All Stan the Man said was, “The requirement was an A, Hank. You can do it if you try.”

  Thanks, Dad. No pressure there.

  The next morning, Frankie was full of energy as his dad walked us to school. Too full of energy, if you ask me. He was making me more nervous than I already was.

  “So what time is your presentation?” he asked with a mouthful of chocolate doughnut.

  “I don’t know, sometime after lunch.”

  “You can’t be late, Zip. We go on first at the talent show.”

  “My dad promised he’d be there when school finishes. If Mr Rock gives him good news, I’ll be at the talent show.”

  “And if not?” Frankie stuffed the rest of his doughnut into his mouth all at once. “Maybe we should have had a backup plan.”

  “Thanks for the confidence,” I said.

  “You’re right, my man. It’s all about confidence. You’ll be there. Won’t he, Ashweena?”

  Ashley wasn’t listening. She was busy hopping over puddles made by the road sweeper to make sure she didn’t get her costume dirty. Frankie and I were carrying our costumes in carrier bags. His mum was going to bring everyone’s sleeping bags later. Ashley was wearing her costume. She had worked hard on it, and she wanted to show off her colourful rhinestone work.

  We headed down one block east on 78th Street where our school is. The Junior Explorers were already gathering out the front. Most of the kids were dressed in their luau costumes. Nick McKelty was wearing these horrible purple and orange flowered swimming trunks and flip-flops as big as the Brooklyn Bridge. I don’t mean to gross you out, but his toenails were as long and as wonky as his front teeth.

  Miss Mobile Phone Joelle was there too, wearing a bright pink leotard with weird, brightly coloured shapes painted all over it. I’m no leotard expert, but if those are the kind she desi
gns, I’m not seeing a million dollars in her future.

  I could see her checking out Ashley’s costume as we walked up. “Eeuuww, rhinestones,” she said to Ashley. “That is so a year-and-a-half ago!”

  I wanted to tell her what I thought of her stupid outfit, but my friend Ashley Wong has quite a mouth on her and she can take care of herself.

  “I’m so sorry about your leotard,” Ashley said to her. “It looks like you spilled paint on it.”

  “I made this design myself,” Joelle said. “For your information, these are birds of paradise, a native Hawaiian bird.”

  “For your information, the birds of paradise in Hawaii are flowers, not actual birdies, Miss Birdbrain,” Ashley said.

  That’s my Ashweena. She shoots, she scores!

  Emily and Robert were waiting on the front steps with the other Junior Explorers. Emily had insisted that my mum walk them to school early so Bruce the Gecko could get used to the environment. She didn’t want him to stress out – she was concerned about his mental state. If you ask me, she should be concerned about her own mental state, which I would describe as totally weird and scaly.

  Robert was leaning over Bruce’s plastic box, talking to him. I wonder what you would say to a gecko, anyway?

  “Hey, geck, how was that cricket you had for breakfast? Juicy enough for you?”

  Robert was wearing swimming trunks and a white tank top. It occurred to me that I had never seen his arms before. They looked like toothpaste that had squirted out of the tube, all squiggly. Bruce the Gecko was probably staring up at Robert, shaking like the leaf of lettuce he was standing on. Could you blame him? If you saw Robert Upchurch in swimming trunks and a tank top that was two sizes too big, you’d shake like a leaf of lettuce too.

  “Hank! Mummy, it’s Hank!”

  I turned round to see Mason running down the street at full speed. He was waving his arms and shouting my name. When he reached me, he threw himself full force into my kneecaps.

  “Hey, Mason. What’s up?” I said.