“We’ve gone over your test results,” Dr Berger went on. “You have exceptional verbal and reasoning skills, an outstanding vocabulary, great creativity and a superior intelligence.”
“You mean I’m clever?” I asked. I felt all the tension going up my spine and out of my third eye.
“Yes, Hank, you are. But along with that…”
No, I thought. Don’t say anything more. Just stop right there.
“The tests also show that you have some learning difficulties that have been getting in the way of your school performance,” she said.
Well, there it was. I have learning difficulties. The truth was out.
I didn’t know what to think.
“So what you’re saying is that I’m clever and stupid at the same time,” I said.
“Absolutely not. You’re not stupid at all, Hank,” Dr Berger answered. “Everybody learns in different ways. Our job is to find the best way for you to learn. And I think we can do that.”
“How?”
“Oh, there are lots of ways,” she said. “We’re going to start by working on your study skills so we can help you focus better.”
OK. That didn’t sound too bad.
“Sometimes I learn something and then forget it all overnight,” I said. “Is that because I don’t focus?”
“Perhaps,” she said. “We’re also going to talk to your teacher about letting you get information in different ways, like listening to tapes, for example.”
I like tapes. This was actually sounding pretty good.
“Listening and watching,” I said. “I can do that.”
“Good,” she answered. “And we’ll give you all the time you need to take your tests.”
Extra time on tests? Man, I felt like I wanted to jump out of my chair and give Dr Berger a big kiss on the cheek.
Wait a minute. As I thought more about that, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I mean, Frankie and Ashley would be finished and at home having dinner and I’d still be at school, taking a test.
I noticed that my parents had been very quiet during all this.
“Are you mad at me?” I asked them.
“For what?” my mum asked.
“For having learning differences.”
My mum reached out and took my hand.
“Of course not, honey. We’re going to help you every way we can.”
“Good,” I said. “How about two real chocolate puddings – not low fat – every night for dessert. I think that would help me a lot.”
“Same old Hank,” my father said. He sounded grumpy, but he was actually smiling.
“We’ll all be keeping close watch on your progress,” said Mr Love.
Uh-oh. That sounded to me like I was going to be putting in extra mole time with Mr Love and the Statue of Liberty there on his face. “Does that mean I’ll be coming to see you more often?” I asked. “Not that I don’t enjoy our visits, of course.”
“I hope that as your school work improves, we’ll see an improvement in your behaviour,” said Mr Love.
I noticed that I had stopped sweating.
“If you have questions about any of this, don’t be afraid to ask,” said Dr Berger. She stood up.
I put out my hand, in the basic handshake position Papa Pete had taught me. She took my hand and shook it.
“Thank you,” I said to Dr Berger. “Thank you for everything.”
And you know what? I meant it.
That night we made a homework chart and taped it on the bedroom wall over my desk. On one side, we wrote the name of every subject I study at school. Next to each subject, we made boxes for every night of the week. When I finished my homework in each subject, I would get a sticker in the box.
“That’s not fair,” said Emily. “I want stickers, too.”
The next night, Papa Pete came over with a surprise. He brought two big rolls of stickers. The ones with the snakes on them were for Emily. The ones with the Mets baseballs and Shea Stadium were mine.
“You’re going to make it to the World Series of homework,” Papa Pete said.
Papa Pete and I went outside on the balcony and sat down. It was cold, but we felt warm with our big coats on. Papa Pete took out a plastic bag from his pocket. He took out two pickles, our favourite snack. He handed me a garlic dill and took the other one for himself. They were so juicy that they squirted when we bit into them.
“Hankie, let me know if I get any seeds in the old handlebars,” he said.
I looked at his moustache. “You’re all clear, Papa Pete.”
We sat there for a minute, crunching on our pickles and enjoying the air.
“Look at that moon,” he said.
If you crane your neck and look around the corner of our balcony, sometimes you can see the moon.
“It’s so round. Guess what it reminds me of?” Papa Pete asked.
When most grown-ups ask you to guess at something, they don’t really want you to. Papa Pete does.
“Give me a clue,” I said.
“It’s something you eat.”
“A ball of cheddar cheese.”
He shook his head no.
“Give me another clue.”
“Something your mother makes.”
“A matzo ball.”
He shook his head no.
“One more clue,” I begged.
“Something your mother specializes in.”
“A slice of soy salami.”
“Bingo,” he said.
I was quiet. I still felt really terrible about ruining my mum’s chances at that big order for Mr Gristediano. I hadn’t been able to say the words soy salami since.
“I really messed up her chances, didn’t I?” I asked. “And she was so excited about it too.”
“The good thing about mistakes,” said Papa Pete, “is that sometimes we have a chance to make them right.”
“I can’t fix what I did,” I said. “There’s no way.”
Papa Pete didn’t answer. He just sat there and finished his pickle. Then he got to his feet.
“If you were to think of some way,” he said, “I happen to be free tomorrow afternoon. You’re a smart boy. Think it over.”
I thought in the shower. I thought while I was putting on my pyjamas. I thought while I was brushing my teeth. By the time I had put my head on the pillow, I was done thinking. I had thought of a plan.
Papa Pete met me after school.
“Where to?” he asked.
“The ninety-nine-cent shop,” I answered.
The ninety-nine-cent shop is on Amsterdam Avenue, right under McKelty’s Roll ’N Bowl. I do a lot of my gift shopping there, because ninety-nine cents is just the right price range for my gift budget.
We walked inside and I went up to the woman at the till.
“Excuse me, do you have chess sets?” I said.
“Aisle thirty-seven,” she answered.
You don’t get much in the way of a chess set for ninety-nine cents. There were only two choices: a flimsy cardboard one with plastic pieces or a small one that was made for travelling. I liked the small one. It looked like it was made in China, because the faces on the pieces were dragons. I bought the chess set and a silver bow to put on top.
“Where to now?” asked Papa Pete.
“Follow me,” I said.
We walked to Riverside Drive. When we reached number 451, the doorman with the shiny gold buttons on his coat came outside.
“Well, look who’s back,” he said. “The boy with the exploding salamis.” He had a good laugh to himself. I couldn’t blame him, really.
“Would you please ask Mr Gristediano if I can come up?” I asked.
“I’ll warn him,” the doorman said, “so he can put away anything valuable.” He laughed again. “Hey, I’m just kidding with ya.”
I invited Papa Pete up, but he said that he’d wait downstairs in the park. I walked through the lobby, past the mostly naked lady on the wall. Why was it that both times I’d been there, I
hadn’t had time to stop and admire the artwork, as Robert would say? It wasn’t fair.
Mr Gristediano and Nina were waiting for me at the door. Nina sniffed my clothes. She must have smelled Cheerio, because her tail started to wag like crazy.
“This is for you,” I said to Mr Gristediano, handing him the chess set with the silver bow. “I picked it out myself. It’s not much, but I wanted to say thank you for suggesting that I get tested.”
“How did that go?” he asked.
“It turns out I do have some learning difficulties,” I said. I hadn’t told anyone that before, but I figured it was time to start. “The woman who tested me says we’re going to work on them.”
“Good for you,” said Mr Gristediano. “It takes a brave man to be honest with himself.”
He looked at the box in his hand. “Should I open this?”
I nodded.
“Why, this is a perfect gift, Hank,” he said. “You know how much I like chess. Would you like to come in for a game?”
I was hoping he’d ask.
We sat down at the table by the picture window. I set up the board and we started to play. It was a nice place for a chess game. When it wasn’t your turn, you could look out of the window and watch the boats going up and down the Hudson River.
“I missed lunch today,” I said to Mr Gristediano. “Do you mind if I have a little snack?”
I reached into my rucksack and got out the sandwich my mum had made for lunch. I don’t think I have to tell you what kind it was. I took a bite.
“What kind of sandwich is it?” Mr Gristediano asked.
I lifted up the top piece of bread and showed him. “It’s soy salami,” I said.
I took another bite.
“Mr Gristediano, do you want to try this? It just might make your taste buds stand up and salute. I can’t honestly say it has that effect on me, but it does for a lot of people.”
Mr Gristediano laughed, and I silently thanked Papa Pete for teaching me that expression.
“You’re making it sound awfully tempting,” he said.
I took the other half of the sandwich and handed it to Mr Gristediano. He took a bite.
“It’s really good for you,” I said. “No preservatives, no artificial colours. I’ve heard soy salami called the lunch meat of the twenty-first century.”
“This is quite good,” said Mr Gristediano. “It wouldn’t happen to be from your mother’s deli, would it?”
“You mean The Crunchy Pickle at Seventy-seventh and Broadway?” I asked. “The one that’s open until six tonight? Why, yes, it is.”
I moved my queen across the board.
“By the way, I believe that’s checkmate,” I said.
I had caught Mr Gristediano by surprise.
“You’re a smart boy, Hank,” he said. “I like you.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He took the last bite of his half of the sandwich.
“And I like your mother’s soy salami too.”
“Guess who came into the deli today!” my mum said as she rushed into our flat that night.
“King Kong,” said Emily. She and Papa Pete were reading a pop-up book on gorillas.
“Mr Gristediano!” Mum said. She took off her hat, threw it up in the air and let out a scream. “He just walked in and said he wanted to place an order.”
“How big an order?” my dad asked, looking up from his crossword puzzle.
“One hundred cases!” Mum said.
“That’s one thousand nine hundred and twenty salamis!” my father said. He jumped out of his chair, grabbed my mum and spun her around the room.
Papa Pete flashed me the kind of grin that said we knew something they didn’t know.
“Mr Gristediano said that any woman who can invent the lunch meat of the twenty-first century and raise a fine son like Hank Zipzer deserves to get a great big order!”
“He said that?” I asked.
“Word for word,” my mum said. “We have you to thank for this, Hank.” She was so happy that she was crying.
My mum gave me such a huge hug that I couldn’t catch my breath. Then our whole family started to hug. My dad hugged Emily. Papa Pete hugged my mum. My dad hugged me. Emily hugged Katherine. Cheerio tried to hug himself. I hugged Emily … but just for a second. We went hugging crazy, there’s no doubt about it.
“Here’s to Hank,” Papa Pete said.
“Here’s to Hank,” everyone repeated.
I took a bow.
“You should be very proud of yourself, son,” my dad said.
“Me?” I asked. “What’d I do, Dad?”
“You’ve brought your marks up – way up.”
“I did?”
“Just a few days ago, you had a D in salami,” he said. “And now look. I’m giving you an A in salami!”
I threw my arms around my dad and laughed. It was the first A my father had given me. Hey, it was my first A ever. And it sure felt good.
Five Things You Didn’t Know About Me
by Lin Oliver
1. If I ran the world, everyone would go to sleep at 3 a.m. and get up at 11 a.m.
2. Peppermints make me sneeze.
3. I love to sing and I am always off key.
4. I cannot sleep if my feet are covered.
5. I can hold my breath for 34 seconds.
Five Things You Didn’t Know About Me
By Henry Winkler
1. My favourite food is pizza – the cheesier the better!
2. I have never outgrown my love of birthday presents.
3. I love colourful socks.
4. Green is my favourite colour – as a matter of fact, my wallet is green. For me, green is the colour of life.
5. Autumn is the best season of the year. When the leaves change colour, it just overwhelms me with joy.
The World’s Greatest Underachiever series
The World’s Greatest Underachiever
Takes on the Universe
(Bind-up of The World’s Greatest Underachiever and the Crazy Classroom Cascade and The World’s Greatest Underachiever and the Crunchy Pickle Disaster)
The World’s Greatest Underachiever
and the Crazy Classroom Cascade
The World’s Greatest Underachiever
and the Crunchy Pickle Disaster
The World’s Greatest Underachiever
and the Lucky Monkey Socks
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy or replicated as they may result in injury.
First published in Great Britain as
Hank Zipzer the World’s Greatest Underachiever: I Got a “D” in Salami (2008) by Walker Books Ltd, 87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ
First published in the United States as
Hank Zipzer #02: I Got a “D” in Salami (2003) by Henry Winkler and Lin Oliver. Published by arrangement with Grosset & Dunlap™, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. All rights reserved.
Text © 2003, 2012 Henry Winkler and Lin Oliver Productions, Inc.
Cover illustration, design and interior illustrations © 2012 Nigel Baines
The right of Henry Winkler and Lin Oliver to be identified as authors of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, taping and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data:
a catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978-1-4063-3269-8 (ePub)
www.walker.co.uk
The World's Greatest Underachiever and the Crunchy Pickle Disaster Page 9