The Musical Director said, “‘Baby Baby Baby.’ Ready? 1–2–3–4 . . .”
Right away, the audience began to clap along. Just before they launched into a second chorus, Libby said, “Now we sing!”
The audience joined in. It didn’t matter that Etta forgot the words, or that Celery had trouble playing and singing at the same time. Libby bounced on the piano stool as she played, and Etta performed little dance moves. Celery, bent over his cello, bobbed his head with the beat.
When they had finished, Jimmy said, “Put your hands together for . . . the Underachievers!”
But he didn’t have to ask, because everyone was already clapping. Libby, Etta, and Celery returned to their seats, as Jocelyn introduced the ballerinas.
As the Underachievers walked home later that evening, Libby half listened to Celery trying to teach Etta the words of “Baby Baby Baby,” and half to their parents, a few steps behind, who were talking in low voices.
“It goes ‘Baby Baby Baby, Baby Baby Baby, Oooooh Baby Baby, Baby Baby Baby,’” said Celery.
“Celio’s in such a state about the test,” said Mr. Travis, his voice almost a whisper. “He can’t stop going to the washroom.”
The parents’ talk shattered the joy Libby was feeling at the Underachievers’ performance. It brought back the dread she felt every time she thought of the test.
Etta, concentrating hard, said, “Baby Baby Baby, Oooooh Oooooh Oooooh, Baby Baby Oooooh.”
Celery groaned.
“Libby’s taken to sucking her thumb,” said Mrs. Meek.
“Baby Baby Baby, Oooooh Oooooh Oooooh, Baby Oooooh Oooooh,” Etta tried.
“Better,” said Celery.
It was one week until they were going to rewrite the test. It was in Libby’s thoughts all the time. It reminded her of when she’d had a tooth- ache the previous summer. Sometimes the toothache had filled her with such pain there
wasn’t room for anything else in her mind. Even when the pain receded, and she could almost forget about it, it was still there. Even if it wasn’t actually hurting, she knew it would soon be back. She couldn’t escape it. It was the same with the test. She could forget it sometimes, like when she played the piano, or when she was fooling around with Etta and Celery. But it was always there, lurking in her mind, ready to swarm into her thoughts and fill her with fear.
She knew it was stupid to feel that way, and to worry so much, but that’s just what she was. Stupid.
The test had proved it once already, and would prove it again in a few days.
Her thumb slipped into her mouth.
9
The Principal’s Request
Mr. Knott arrived in Miss Nightingale’s classroom on Monday morning as the children were having their recess snack. He approached Libby, Etta, and Celery and asked, “May I join you?” He pulled up a chair and sat with his arms resting on their table. “Your band sounded great at Talent Night.”
“Were you there?” Libby asked innocently.
“No, but a friend was,” said Mr. Knott. “He told me about your band.”
“What’s your friend called?” Libby asked.
“Maurice the Magician.”
“I thought so.”
“I enjoyed your performance so much — I mean, my friend, Maurice the Magician, enjoyed your performance so much — that it gave me the idea of asking you to play at Open House. Usually the choir sings, but this year, we have no choir because everyone has been so busy preparing for the test.”
Libby was about to say yes, but the Band Manager spoke first.
“The band will be happy to consider your request,” said Celery.
“Can you let me know soon?” Mr. Knott asked. “Open House is coming right up.”
“I’ll call a meeting immediately — if you’ll excuse us,” said Celery.
Mr. Knott moved away.
Celery asked, “What about it?”
“Yes,” said the Music Director.
“Yes,” said the Band Stylist.
Celery called, “Mr. Knott, the band agrees to play.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Knott. “Does the band charge for performing?”
“No, but we ask for a contribution to the food bank,” said Libby. “It’s all on our poster.” She reached into her desk and handed a copy of the Underachievers’ poster to Mr. Knott. She explained, “I wrote what to put on the poster, and Etta did the lettering, and Celery drew the instruments using tangrams.”
“How long did all this take?” said Mr. Knott.
Celery reached in his book bag and pulled out his notebook. “We started two weeks ago. It says so here in the minutes.”
Mr. Knott held up the poster.
THE UNDERACHIEVERS
MUSIC OLD AND NEW!
STARRING:
ETTA PAGE ON BASS
CELERY TRAVIS ON CELLO
LIBBY MEEK ON PIANO
AVAILABLE TO PLAY JUST FOR YOU! JUST ASK!
PAYMENT: CONTRIBUTION TO FOOD BANK.
Mr. Knott beamed. “I’ll call your parents right now.” He paused at the classroom door, smiling again. “I love the name of your band — the Underachievers!”
He closed the door, and they heard him laughing in the hallway outside.
10
Shopping
That afternoon, Libby and Etta met Mr. Meek at Seaside Park after school. They were finally going shopping for band outfits. Celery had his cello lesson, but told Libby and Etta that he trusted them to choose something “tasteful and dignified” for him.
Etta had winked and said, “Gotcha, babe.”
Celery had looked worried.
“Where are we going, ladies?” Mr. Meek asked.
“The thrift store,” said Libby.
“Do you think we have time to drop in at the Garden Café for milkshakes first?”
They walked through the park to the Garden Café at the Grand Hotel. The café had a patio full of round tables with big umbrellas. It was surrounded by the flowers and shrubs and lawns of the hotel’s famous gardens.
As they entered the café, Libby saw her mother pointing them out to a waiter in a white jacket. The waiter, who had freckles, curly red hair, and a gold earring, greeted Libby and Etta. “Ms. Meek and Ms. Page, welcome to the Garden Café. We have a table reserved especially for you.” He led them to a table in the corner, where Mrs. Meek joined them.
“The hotel had a table reserved for us!” said Etta.
Mrs. Meek winked at Libby.
“Are you sure you have enough money for outfits?” asked Mr. Meek as they sipped their milkshakes.
“How much have you got?” Libby asked Etta.
Etta dug in her jeans pocket and dropped a handful of coins on the table. She picked through them, muttering, “$1.45 left over from my allowance, $1 from Mom for returning her library books, and $1 Dad gave me.”
“How come your dad gave you a dollar?” Libby asked.
Etta opened her eyes wide. “Because I said, ‘Please, Daddy, can I have a dollar?’”
“And he just gave you a dollar, without even asking what it was for?”
Etta nodded. “And he asked me if it was enough.”
Libby looked at Mr. Meek, who said, “Don’t try that on me. It won’t work.”
Libby grunted.
“How much have you got?” Etta asked.
Libby pulled three loonies and three quarters from her pocket. “It would be more if my parents gave me what most ten-year-olds get for allowance,” she said, looking at Mr. Meek.
“No chance,” said Mr. Meek firmly.
“Celery gave me this,” Libby went on. She produced an envelope. Printed neatly on the front was:
The sum of money enclosed is the
contribution of Mr. Celio Travis to the budget of the band known as the Underachievers. It is entrusted to the care of Ms. Libby Meek, Musical Director, and Ms. Etta Page, Band Stylist. I give my permission for them to use the money herein to purchase tasteful and dignified outfits for the band.
Dated this 16th day of May.
“Celery is so weird,” said Etta.
Libby flipped over the envelope.
$2 allowance
75¢ donated by Mrs. Travis
35¢ donated by Mr. Travis
10¢ found in the sofa
$1 given by Mr. Travis in return for promising not to play my cello when he’s watching the playoffs
Etta said, “So that’s . . . $4.20 from Celery.”
Libby grinned. “Which means we’ve got $11.40 to spend on outfits!”
“Don’t forget tax,” Mr. Meek cautioned.
Libby’s smile disappeared.
“Rats,” said Etta.
“Tax is 13 percent,” said Mr. Meek.
“Thirteen percent of $11.40,” muttered Etta. “How much is that?”
“Ten percent is $1.14, so 5 percent would be 57 cents,” Libby started. “And 3 percent is a bit more than half that, so let’s say 30 cents, so that makes . . .”
“$1.44, near enough,” Etta concluded.
Libby did the subtraction in her head. “So really, we’ve got $9.96.”
“For three outfits,” said Etta. “That means only about . . . er . . . um . . . $3.32 for each outfit.”
“Do you know what sort of outfits you want?” Mr. Meek asked.
“Celery wants something ‘tasteful and dignified.’”
Etta giggled. “Yeah — right.”
The thrift store was a five minute walk along Water Street. Libby and Etta looked in shop windows as they passed, while Mr. Meek strolled behind them. When they got there, he said, “Take your time, ladies,” and sat on a bench by the door.
Libby and Etta started at the racks for teens.
“We’re as good as teens,” Libby said.
“And we don’t want little kids’ stuff,” Etta added.
Finding nothing there, they moved quickly through the adult racks before reluctantly checking the children’s section.
When they found nothing there, Etta said, “Should we try another store?”
“Let’s just go through the bins,” said Libby.
“That’s usually junk,” said Etta.
“We might as well look.”
There were five bins, each heaped with a jumbled assortment of all sorts of clothes. There were different styles and sizes, for men and women and boys and girls. Libby and Etta started at the outside bins and worked their way towards each another. When Libby found nothing in her first bin, she glanced up at Etta, who shook her head. They moved on to the next. When Libby finished with that one, Etta was still rummaging through her second bin.
Libby moved to the middle bin. She lifted aside a heap of extra-large men’s pants, and her eyes lit up.
“Jackpot!”
11
The Real-Life Test
“No way,” said Celery. “I’m not wearing that.”
It was Tuesday after school, and they were sitting around Libby’s kitchen table. During a break from studying for the test, Libby and Etta had surprised Celery with his band outfit.
“And I want my money back. The agreement clearly stated tasteful and dignified.”
“But they don’t take returns at the thrift store. And we only have thirty-five cents left over. We can’t refund your money,” explained Libby, pulling out the cash register receipt and laying it on the table beside Celery’s empty money envelope.
Libby, Etta, and Celery stared at the papers.
“Come on, Cel —” But then Libby froze, her mouth open.
“What’s the matter?” said Etta.
“I just had a brilliant idea,” said Libby, turning to Etta. “When we were working out how much we could spend before we even got to the thrift store yesterday, that was like doing a test.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me of tests,” said Etta. “I’m sick of tests already.”
“But we could make up our own test!”
“Why would we want to make up a test?” asked Etta.
“And what would we do with it?” said Celery.
“Any test we make up will be better than Professor Brayne’s — right?” asked Libby.
“Right!” said Celery and Etta.
“So we’ll make up our own test, and we’ll take it to Mr. Knott. We’ll tell him we have a test with questions about stuff we’re doing in real life, instead of stupid questions that don’t make sense like the ones in Professor Brayne’s test. Then we ask him if we can take it!”
“We ask Mr. Knott if we can take another test?” Etta gasped. “He’ll think we’re crazy.” She added, “We would be crazy.”
“I mean, we ask Mr. Knott if we can take our test instead of Professor Brayne’s test,” said Libby.
Celery shook his head. “It’s a good idea, but Mr. Knott won’t agree.”
“But I can’t make up a test,” wailed Etta. “I always fail tests, so how do you expect me to make one up?”
“You don’t have to,” said Libby. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We’ve made up a test already, without realizing it. When we were shopping and we had to add up our money and divide it to find how much we could spend on each outfit, and work out the tax — that was like a math test question.”
“That was math?” asked Etta.
“And when we were working out where to sit and stand with our instruments,” said Celery slowly. “That was like a geometry question about triangles and stuff.”
“And remember when we calculated how long it takes to play a song, and how many pieces the band would need to play?” said Libby. “That was an addition and multiplication problem.”
“That’s impossible,” said Etta.
“Why?”
“Because I’m the one who worked it out, and I can’t do math.”
“Well you did math then,” said Celery.
Etta grinned. “I’m smarter than I thought.”
* * *
The next day, Libby, Etta, and Celery waited outside the school office. Libby was carrying a bright orange file folder decorated with flowers and pianos. Earlier in the day, she’d visited the secretary, Ms. Marshall, to make an appointment to see Mr. Knott. After consulting an appointment book, Ms. Marshall had said, “Mr. Knott can fit you in at three o’clock today.”
She waved Libby and her friends in as she called, “Mr. Knott, your three o’clock is here.”
The principal showed Libby, Etta, and Celery to seats in front of his desk, then sat behind it.
“We’ve come about Professor Brayne’s test,” said Libby.
“I thought so,” said Mr. Knott.
“It’s causing us serious worry.”
Mr. Knott sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“And the worst thing is . . .” Libby took a deep breath. “The questions are silly!”
“Which questions?” Mr. Knott asked.
“The ones on the test we did already, and the ones Professor Brayne is giving us to practise for the next test.”
Libby waited for Mr. Knott to disagree, but he just asked, “Why are they silly?”
She looked at Etta and Celery.
“They just are,” said Etta.
“The questions reveal an unfamiliarity with the world of the young people for whom they are intended, thus producing less-than-meaningful results,” explained Celery.
“They’re like trick questions, to make us look stupid,” said Libby.
Mr. Knott repeated, “I’m sorry.”
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Libby leaned forward. “Charlotte — that’s my mom — says saying sorry is not always enough, and sometimes sorry has to be accompanied by action.”
Mr. Knott’s eyes widened. “What sort of action?”
“If there has to be a test, why can’t it be something like this?” She laid the bright orange file folder on the desk and pushed it across to Mr. Knott. “We call it the Real-Life Test.”
Mr. Knott opened the folder and took out a neatly typed piece of paper.
The Real-Life Test
By the Underachievers
Answer the questions below. (Don’t worry about getting them all right, just do the best you can!)
1. Three kids play in a band, one on piano, one on the cello, and one on bass. Is it better for them to stand and sit in an equilateral triangle or in an isosceles triangle? State the reasons for your choice.
Mr. Knott looked up from the paper. “Hmmm.” He frowned. “What’s the answer?”
“What do you think?” said Libby.
“An equilateral triangle.”
“State the reasons for your choice.”
“The band would look neater in an equilateral triangle.”
Libby shook her head. “But the kids couldn’t see each other.”
Mr. Knott thought for a few seconds. “I guess I didn’t think the question through.”
“Like you would have to in real life,” Libby pointed out.
Mr. Knott looked back at the Real-Life Test.
2. If two eighth notes equal one quarter note, and four sixteenth notes equal one quarter note (they really do — trust us), then
a) How many sixteenth notes fit in four quarter notes?
b) How many eighth notes fit in eight quarter notes?
Bonus Question: How many sixteenth notes fit in three eighth notes? (Be very careful!)
Mr. Knott leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, his lips moving silently. “The answer to a) and b) is sixteen . . .”
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