Barfing in the Backseat (10 page)

My father, who’s not exactly a people person anyway, got completely flustered.

“That’s very kind of you, sir,” he said, “and I’ll certainly remember those words on my birthday.”

“And we all know when that is, don’t we, boys?” Jimmy Jim said, giving us another of his big winks. This called for immediate action on my part.

“Hey, Dad,” I shouted from the backseat. “We’d better step on it. You don’t want to miss registration.”

My dad hopped in the car and put the key in the ignition.

Turn the key, Dad. Put it in gear. Step on the gas. And wave bye-bye to Jimmy Jim, Honey, and the bees.

Wow, that sounded like a rock group.

As we pulled out, I checked to make sure my homework packet was tucked safely in my backpack. It was.

The only thing I had to do was complete it before we got to Charlotte and the Colossus Coaster Kingdom.

No problem. So what if I had a phone-book-size packet of math and reading and vocab to do.

I can handle that. I’m Hank Zipzer, the homework king.

Yeah, right!

M
Y DAD ESTIMATED
the total driving time to Charlotte to be three hours and forty-nine minutes. That didn’t count any stops, though, and my mom was planning to stop by the side of the road for a picnic that Honey had packed for us. There was leftover honey-fried chicken from dinner, corn on the cob with Parmesan cheese and honey, iced tea with honey, and for dessert, honey almond cake. And in case we didn’t have enough honey, Honey had thrown in an extra bottle of honey to add to any course we wanted.

“We should be in Charlotte by three o’clock this afternoon,” my dad said. “That’s allowing exactly one hour for lunch, and fourteen minutes for bathroom breaks, which I calculate as two breaks of seven minutes each.”

As we all know, I’m no whiz with numbers,
but I definitely got the feeling that a three o’clock arrival wasn’t going to leave me much time in Charlotte to complete the homework packet. The best chance I had of finishing it before the next morning was to start in the car.

Frankie and I were in the middle row of seats, and Emily and Katherine were in the way back. Since I didn’t want my dad to see that I was just starting the packet, I decided that I had to switch into the way back, where he wouldn’t be able to see any of the empty pages.

“Hey, Emily,” I said. “Let’s change seats.”

“No,” she said. “Kathy and I like it back here. We’re pretending we’re princesses hiding in our cave from the fierce fire-breathing dragon.”

If there’s anything I hate, it’s imaginary princesses. But I was a desperate man, so I had to go along with it.

“Wow, Em,” I said in a chirpy little voice. “That sounds like fun. But you know, I think the dragon has a good shot to toss a fireball at you through the back window. You’d be safer in the middle.”

“Oh, I never thought of that,” Emily whispered.
“Kathy, gather your things. We’re moving.”

Kathy, gather your things?
Like, what would a lizard have to gather? A cell phone? Or a down jacket with a hood? Oh, I know. Six wilted lettuce leaves and a half-chewed carrot top.

But I couldn’t say a word. After all, Emily was making the switch and I needed her cooperation. I kept my mouth shut.

Once Frankie and I were strapped into the backseat, and Emily and her reptile princess were in the middle row, I reached for my backpack. I pulled the packet out, which wasn’t easy because it weighed a ton and a half. Then I got a nice, sharp pencil, opened the homework booklet, and turned to the first page, ready to go.

It was titled “Reading Comprehension Exercise #1.” There was a long single-spaced paragraph of solid gray type followed by ten multiple choice questions. The paragraph was titled “Magellan Circumnavigates the Globe.” Wow. It took me about ten minutes just to sound out circumnavigate, and by the time I was finished, I was starting to get nauseous.

Can I please see a show of hands of any of
you who’ve tried to do homework while traveling in your family’s car? If your hand is up, tell me this. Did you not get unbelievably sick to your stomach while trying to read and travel at the same time? Because let me tell you, as I tried to read while riding in the backseat, I was getting greener by the minute. I don’t know if old Magellan ever got seasick, but I sure did reading about him. I didn’t even get past the second sentence before I had to yell out, “Dad, stop the car! And I’m not kidding.”

“Hank, can’t you hold it until we reach a gas station?” my dad said.

“Dad, this is not that kind of stop. And no, I can’t.”

He looked at me in the rearview mirror.

“Hank, we’re on the highway. This isn’t a good place to stop.”

“Dad, there are only two choices here. Either I barf in the backseat, or you stop and I fertilize the plants along the side of the road.”

“Stanley, dear,” my mom said. “I think you should pull over right away.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Emily said. “If he barfs in this car, I’m never getting back in it again. Kathy and
I will walk to Charlotte.”

“Really, Mr. Z.,” Frankie added. “The Hankster is as green as a turtle.”

“Actually, there are many species of brown or earth-colored turtles,” Emily chimed in, with her usual too much information at exactly the wrong time.

“Well, this particular turtle is about to upchuck all over your ponytail,” I managed to get out.

She heard me loud and clear.

“Dad,” she said. “Pull over
immediately
.”

Which he did. Frankie leaned forward and yanked open the sliding door, which I shot out of like a cannon.

I will spare you the details of what happened next. Let’s just say that I didn’t realize I had eaten anything red for breakfast.

I didn’t try to do any more homework for the rest of the car trip. Old Magellan was just going to have to wait until my stomach left my mouth and went back south to where it usually lived.

O
UR MOTEL IN
C
HARLOTTE
had an indoor pool. I saw it when we were standing in the lobby, waiting to catch the elevator to our rooms. Well, I didn’t see it all. I saw a sliver of it, but the turquoise blue water was lit up by the last of the sun’s rays shining through the windows, dancing on its surface. I could hear the water calling out to me. “I’m over here, Hank. I’m waiting and I’m heated.” I had to answer.

“I’ll be right down,” I said.

“Who you talking to, dude?” Frankie asked.

“The pool. It’s calling to me.”

“Forget about it, man. That homework packet is calling a whole lot louder.”

Frankie was right, and I knew it. I was going to have to buckle down and concentrate for the rest of the day to get that packet done by the morning. I had to keep my priorities straight.
What did I really want to do? Take a swim in an indoor pool or go on seven of the world’s fastest roller coasters?

No question about it. The roller coasters won, hands down.

When we got to our room, it turned out to be a two-bedroom economy family suite. The good part about that was that there was a little kitchen, which had a little refrigerator with little bottles of water and orange juice. The bad part was that the bedroom Frankie and I were sharing was right next to my parents’ bedroom, and unless the door was closed, my parents could see right into our room. If there’s one thing I don’t like, it’s catching up on an entire week’s worth of homework packet while my dad is watching with his wolflike eyes.

That’s okay, Hank. You’re going to get right to work, anyway. It’s not so bad if your dad sees you concentrating. Now go. Ready, begin.

Okay. The first thing I did was put the packet on the desk in the corner of the room. I turned on the desk light, then made sure my pencils were all sharpened and lined up next to the packet. I sat down on the leather desk chair.

Hey, cool. This chair swivels. Maybe I’ll just take a few spins around. Yeah, this is fun. Okay, that’s enough fun, Hank.

I got myself back into homework mode. I opened the first page and there he was again—good old Magellan. I started to read the long gray paragraph. It was a pretty detailed description of Magellan’s ship. Somewhere between the white sails and the tall mast, my mind started to wander. I could feel my brain floating out to sea, just like Magellan.

No, Hank-brain. Do not wander. I command you to keep thinking. Concentrate.

My brain did not listen. So I tried a tactic that works for me sometimes. I stood up next to the chair and put one knee on it. Then I tried reading. Nope, the one-knee position wasn’t working. My Hank-brain was still out at sea. So I took my knee off the chair, put my elbows on the desk, and leaned over the paragraph. Then the thought hit me.

I’ll come back to this. Magellan can wait
.
He’s on a long trip, anyway.

I took the packet in my hands and started flipping the pages with my eyes closed.

“Frankie, say a magic word,” I said. He was flopped on the bed, trying to take a nap.

“Zengawii,” he said, as I knew he would. It’s the magic word he uses all the time in our magic act.

And as he said it, I stopped flipping the pages, sticking my pointer finger down wherever it landed. I promised myself that whatever it touched was the next thing I was going to tackle.

I looked down at the page. My finger was pointing to a monster of a long division problem. That was no good.

“Say another magic word,” I said to Frankie, and started flipping the pages again.

“Roller coaster,” Frankie said.

I stopped flipping and looked down at the page. This time, it was a vocab word I actually knew: elongate.

“Definition: to make longer,” I wrote.

Okay, one question down. Seven million questions to go.

“Zip, why don’t you just sit down and concentrate?” Frankie said. “You’ve got a lot to do, dude, and all that dancing around is just
slowing you down.”

Frankie was right. I sat down in the desk chair and put on my serious face. My homework face. My game face. I turned to page seventy-five and stared down at it. It had two columns of words. I was supposed to circle the ones that were spelled correctly.

As my eyes skimmed down the first column, something strange happened. Well, actually not so strange, because it’s something that happens to me a lot. The words started to swim around on the page. Not so much swim. More like line dance. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, trying to get the words to stop moving. But when I looked down again, the words were still doing a square dance in the middle of the page.

Why does this always happen to me? Why can’t my brain work like everyone else’s?

I got up and starting doing jumping jacks. I thought that maybe some exercise would get the blood going and my mind would be able to focus for once.

“Dude, I’m trying to sleep here,” Frankie said. “And your butt is supposed to be in the chair.”

“It won’t stay there, Frankie. I think it’s allergic to leather.”

“Hank,” my father called out. “I’m taking Emily downstairs for a swim in the pool.”

The pool! That’s a brilliant idea. I’ll take a swim, I’ll clear my brain, and I’ll come back and zoom through the packet.

“Let’s go for a swim, Frankie,” I said, already out of my chair and heading for my suitcase to find my swim trunks.

“And you’ll do your homework when?”

“When we get back. I promise. As soon as we get back.”

“I do not want to be going to Colossus Coaster Kingdom without you.”

“You know me, Frankie. I’d never let that happen. Ever.”

“I do know you, Zip. That’s why I’m saying it.”

“Fifteen minutes. I’ll do a couple of laps, maybe a cannonball or two, and I’ll be back on that packet like a bunny on a carrot.”

A few minutes later, we were heading down the hall to the elevator that led to the pool. As I stood there in that cramped little elevator, I felt
more free than I had in our big bedroom with that packet sitting on the desk. Just being away from the pressure of all those words I didn’t know and problems I couldn’t solve made it possible to take a deep breath.

The water felt great. It was heated to just the right temperature. I swam and kicked and splashed and dove. When I was finished, I wrapped the towel around myself, thanked the lifeguard, and headed for the elevator to return to the room to finish the packet.