“And now for the results of today’s Olympiad,” he said.
“Finally,” Ashley whispered to me. She had put on a white baseball cap that said “Girl managers rule” in yellow rhinestones.
“No matter what happens, you made history today,” I said to her.
“You made it into the record books yourself,” she said with a smile. “The first ever Zippity Zinger. No one will ever be able to do it again.”
“Including me,” I said.
“That’s for sure,” said Frankie, “or my name isn’t Bernice.”
“Frankie, your name isn’t Bernice,” I said. And all three of us laughed.
“I’d like to call our team coaches to the stage,” Mr Love said. “Mr Michael Sicilian for the Blue Team.” Everyone on the Blue Team applauded like crazy. “And for the Yellow Team, Ms Harriet Adolf.”
“We’ve tabulated the scores,” Head Teacher Love continued. “As we all know, the Blue Team, led by Emily Zipzer, won the Brain Buster part of the Olympiad, earning one hundred points.”
I looked over at Emily. She looked so happy. I was really glad for her. Honestly and truly. I glanced at Robert, who was sitting with our team, and he had the same grin on his face that Cheerio gets after we give him a biscuit.
“In the Softball Competition,” Mr Love continued, “the victory goes to the Yellow Team, earning them one hundred points. A special hats off to the Yellow Team’s secret weapon, Hank Zipzer.”
Everyone in the auditorium started to applaud. I thought my ears were going to drop right off my head. It was the best sound I had ever heard. I never thought I would be able to do what I did today, and here was a room full of people applauding me. I looked around at the people clapping, and mostly it was a blur. But I did see Dr Lynn and Mr Rock, who were both smiling directly at me and clapping really hard. My parents looked so proud, and Papa Pete actually got out of his chair and raised his fist in a victory salute.
“Hankie!” he yelled in his big voice. “Atta boy!”
I felt Frankie’s elbow in my ribs. “Zip, look over there.”
He pointed over to the centre of the stage, where Ms Adolf was standing next to Mr Love. She was clapping too. I repeat. Ms Harriet Adolf was clapping for me.
And they say miracles never happen.
By the way, did I mention that the Yellow Team won the Olympiad and that I’m now wearing a gold medal round my neck?
Well, we did. And I am.
It was a tight race for us, though. The deciding factor was the Triple C event, the Clean and Clutter-Free Competition. Our team scored really well on that, thanks to Robert. In the Clean Desk category, he blew the judges away by bringing in a mini-vacuum cleaner and sucking up all those little pencil shavings that fall out of the pencil sharpener and collect in the corners of your desk. We got bonus points for that.
That Robert, he does come in handy sometimes.
You won’t believe what lost it for the Blue Team. Picture this. The judges are at the Blue Team’s desks and they come to Luke Whitman’s. While they were checking his desk to see if it was orderly and uncluttered, he reached into his back pocket where he keeps half a peanut butter and jam sandwich because he never wants to be without a snack. Luke had to sneeze and couldn’t find a tissue, so he took his sandwich out, unwrapped it and get this, blew his nose on the wax paper.
If that wasn’t bad enough, when he took the wax paper away from his honker, there was a mixture of chunky peanut butter and bogeys spread like silly putty across his face.
If you’re going to lose a Clean and Clutter-Free Competition, that’s the way to do it. If it was up to me, I would have given Old Luke extra points for grossness, but the judging committee didn’t see it that way. Which I guess is good, because in case I didn’t mention it before, I am wearing a Yellow Team gold medal round my neck!
After the medal presentations, Papa Pete offered to take everyone out to celebrate. We walked over to McKelty’s Roll ’N Bowl, where Papa Pete is a regular at the coffee shop. We were a big group – Frankie and his parents, Ashley and her parents, Robert and his mum, Emily and me and our parents, Papa Pete and, of course, Cheerio.
Papa Pete ordered root-beer floats for everyone except Cheerio. He had his favourite – an order of chilli fries. Light on the chilli, though, because it gives him wind. Believe me, you don’t want to be around Cheerio when he’s got wind.
Papa Pete made a toast to all the kids, not just for winning, but for participating in the Olympiad. Then I clinked my spoon on my glass to get everyone’s attention and stood up.
“I want to thank the two best friends any winning pitcher could have,” I began. “First of all, my manager, Ashley, who wouldn’t take no for an answer.” I turned to Ashley. “Ash, I don’t know how you knew that I could do this, but because you did, I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my whole life.”
“Better than when we got that stink bomb and threw it down the lift shaft while Mrs Fink was in the lift?”
“Ashley,” I whispered. “What are you, nuts?”
I turned to my mum and tried really hard to laugh. “That Ashley,” I said. “She has such a wacky imagination.”
My mum gave me one of her “We need to talk about this” looks. I thought I had better go on with my speech really quickly, before there was time for any questions from the parent section.
“Frankie, you are the man,” I said. “It’s amazing how you talked me through that last inning. Without you, I would never have been able to do what Ashley knew I could do but I thought I couldn’t do.”
“Zip, if I understood one word of what you just said, I think I would be deeply touched,” said Frankie.
Everyone at the table laughed.
“To the good Doctors Wong, and to Dr and Mrs Townsend, and to Mrs Upchurch, thank you for having great kids,” I went on. “And to Papa Pete, who has been playing catch with me for as long as I can remember – I’d like to make you the honorary inventor of the Zippity Zinger.”
“Hankie,” said Papa Pete, wiping some whipped cream off his moustache. “Of all my inventions, and that includes the Knockwurst with Baked Beans and Sauerkraut on Corn Rye with Only Yellow Mustard Special Sandwich, the Zippity Zinger is the one I’m most proud of.”
I looked over at my sister. She was sitting next to Robert. Don’t gag or anything, but they were holding hands.
“Emily, none of this would have happened without your lucky monkey socks, so thank you for having them in the first place. And congratulations on winning the Brain Buster. I really do appreciate how smart you are, especially since it takes a lot of pressure off me. At least Mum and Dad have got one smart kid.”
Emily reached over to try to give me a hug, but, fortunately, I was quick enough to avoid her arms. Wrapping herself round me was not necessary. Plus, it was completely unacceptable in a crowd.
“And, last but not least, I want to thank my mum and dad for showing me that you don’t need a lucky charm to launch a Zippity Zinger.”
My mum smiled and blew me a kiss, which I’d rather she wouldn’t do in public, but I’ve learned that there’s no stopping her. My dad took the pencil out from behind his ear and waved it at me. That was a big move because unless he’s going to write a word down or across, his pencil lives behind his ear full-time.
Suddenly, I felt a hot wind on my neck. Then I smelled onions burned in a tar pit. I turned round and looked directly into the mouth of Nick McKelty. His teeth headed in every direction – north, south, east, west – except up and down. He was laughing like a hyena.
“The Zippity Zinger, that’s a laugh,” he said, spraying small drops of saliva on my chin. “There’s no such thing. You’re just one lucky little dude.”
“You’re right, McKelty,” I said. “I am lucky. And I am little. But guess what, big guy? I won.”
I held up the gold medal. The reflection from the disco ball caught it and a ray of golden light flickered on McKelty’s face.
“Nick, I’ll bet yo
urs looks great in the light too,” Ashley said.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said. “You don’t have a medal. What a shame.”
“Hey, there’s always next year when you repeat fourth grade,” Frankie added.
I picked up my root-beer float and clinked glasses with Frankie and Ashley. McKelty stomped away to where his father was waiting for him at the shoe counter. The last thing I saw before I turned back to the table was him spraying foot deodorant into a pair of size-nine red-and-tan bowling shoes.
He does that so well. There’s a future for everybody.
“This calls for a toast,” I said. I raised my glass high in the air. Unfortunately, I raised it too high. Way too high.
The thing I’d like to mention here about root beer with ice cream floating in it is that when you fling it in the air, it sails out of the glass, goes straight up and lands with a big plop on the front of your trousers – in the immediate area of your flies.
When I looked at the root beer spreading like a wild river across my trousers, it looked like one thing and one thing only. I am sorry and embarrassed to have to bring this up, but the truth is, it looked like I had peed my pants.
If I had thought my mum blowing me a kiss in public was embarrassing, you can imagine how I felt when I saw her hands moving towards me with a napkin.
“Mum!” I shouted. “Stop right there. Think about what you’re doing!”
She froze. I froze. My flies froze.
Man, that ice cream was cold.
TEN WAYS TO GET OUT OF A BOWLING ALLEY WITHOUT PEOPLE NOTICING YOU HAVE A ROOT-BEER FLOAT RUNNING DOWN YOUR TROUSERS
1. Put your hands over your stomach, double over, pretend you’re about to throw up, and run out.
2. Drop to the floor as if you’re looking for a quarter that fell out of your pocket and crawl to the front door.
3. Take your friends’ drinks and pour them on you too, and then tell everyone you’re going to a fancy-dress party as a root-beer float.
4. Pull your T-shirt down over your knees and hop out of the room like a rabbit.
5. Bowl yourself out of there. Get a running start, dive belly-first on to the oil-slick lane, put your hands in front of you and head for the ten pin. Exit on the other side of the pins. This is a little dangerous, so don’t try it unless it’s an extreme emergency – and then, don’t forget to keep your hands stretched out in front of you.
You know, I could keep going with this list, but Papa Pete ordered me a fresh root-beer float and it has just arrived, so I think you should finish the list yourself. Let me know what you come up with.
By the way, did I mention to you that I wona medal today? I’m pretty sure it’s real gold. Buteven if it isn’t, I’m so proud.
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 Mutant Moth
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, 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: The Zippity Zinger (2008) by Walker Books Ltd, 87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ
First published in the United States as Hank Zipzer #04: The Zippity Zinger (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.
This edition published 2012
Text © 2003 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 978-1-4063-3273-5 (ePub)
www.walker.co.uk
The World's Greatest Underachiever and the Lucky Monkey Socks Page 8