Barfing in the Backseat (12 page)

“Isn’t this great, Hank? The excitement is so thick, you can cut it with a knife.”

I guess my knife wasn’t that sharp, because I wasn’t feeling the excitement. What I was feeling was boredom, but I didn’t want to let my dad know that, so I asked him a question.

“So how do you think you’re doing, Dad?”

He grabbed my arm and whispered in my ear. “See that woman in the cowboy hat in the second row? She’s going to give me a run for the win. She’s a three-time champion.”

“And twice runner-up,” I added.

My dad looked surprised. “How’d you know that?”

“I have my sources.”

My dad looked really happy. “So you’re getting into the competition, right?”

“Sure, Dad. What’s not to get into?”

The guy on the loudspeaker came on again and announced that the competition was about to resume.

“Oh, no,” my dad said. “I didn’t get my bottle of water.”

“I’ll run to the snack bar,” I said, “and have it waiting for you at the next break.”

“You need money?”

“I’ve got some,” I said. I still had a couple of bucks left from the special delivery of my packet. Frankie had paid for most of it, but I had to put some money of my own in, too. My stomach flipped over when I thought of all that I had gone through for that stupid packet.

I gave my dad the water at the next break, and boy did he need it. He must have sweat enough to fill six bottles’ worth.

“You’re really working hard at this, aren’t you, Dad?”

“Your mind, your eye, and your hand all have to work together, Hank. It’s a team effort.”

“And don’t forget your tongue, Dad, because I see it running across your lips when you’re concentrating. I do that, too, when I’m concentrating, which unfortunately, isn’t all that often.”

My dad laughed. Gosh, I like it when he does that.

At lunchtime, we got sandwiches and took them outside. My dad said that the crisp air really helped to refresh his brain. As we ate our tuna sandwiches, made with real tuna and not my mother’s tofu-tuna, my dad explained what
was going to happen during the afternoon session. The puzzles were going to get harder and longer. And they’d have a theme to them.

“One might be about sports. Another might be about chemistry or George Washington’s birthday or capital cities of the world.”

“Wow, that’s really hard,” I said. “The only world capital city I remember is Tegucigalpa, because it sounds like the name of a dance where you shake your hips a lot.”

My dad laughed. Whoa…twice in one day. Maybe we should declare this date a holiday.

I feel a little weird about telling you this, but by the afternoon, I was really into cheering for my dad to win the tournament. It wasn’t quite as exciting as watching a Mets game, but if you let yourself get involved, it wasn’t all that boring, either. The person who won the tournament was the one who completed the most puzzles perfectly in the least amount of time.

I was keeping a close eye on the woman in the cowboy hat. She was cool as a cucumber. Not like my dad, who was sweating so much he looked like he had just taken a shower with his clothes on.

In the afternoon, they went through a whole bunch of categories of puzzles. African animals. Famous rivers. The solar system. (Oh man, I hope my dad remembers that Pluto is no longer a planet.) Ancient weapons. (That sounds cool.) And, believe it or not, world capitals. (Go, Tegucigalpa!)

“Hank,” my dad said to me as soon as he took his afternoon break. “It was there! An eleven-letter capital of a rain forest country.”

“Tegucigalpa!” we both hollered out together. And we danced around in a little circle. The man in the cowboy hat just stared at us.

“Great call,” my dad said. “You may have helped me to victory.”

Wow. I never thought I’d say this, but maybe deep down, I’m a crossworder.

T
OWARD THE END
of the afternoon, they announced five finalists out of the three hundred contestants that had started in the morning. The woman in the cowboy hat made it. And so did my dad. The winner was going to be decided based on the last puzzle.

The finalists were up on the stage, and they had to do the final puzzle on their own individual easels while standing in front of everyone. My dad was all red in the face, and his hair was standing straight up, like it does in the morning when he just gets out of bed. He was taking deep breaths and shaking his hands to settle his nerves.

The bell went off, and the five competitors started to write. You never saw markers slide across paper so fast in your life. My eyes started spinning, just watching the letters pour out. I
don’t think I recognized one word, except for “cavity,” which I only knew because it’s on a poster across from the chair in my dentist’s office.

The final bell rang.

“Finalists, remove your markers from the puzzles,” the man on the loudspeaker said. “Since none of you has completed the puzzle, the person with the most correct answers wins.”

Boy, if I thought my dad was sweating a lot before, you should have seen him when the judges were judging. His forehead looked like it had a faucet on it. What am I talking about? I was sweating, too. I was really nervous for him.

Finally, the head judge stood up at the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “It was a close match, but we have a winner and a first runner-up.”

I closed my eyes and made a wish.
I hope my dad wins. I hope my dad wins. I hope my dad wins.

I crossed every finger and every toe. And then I messed up my hair, so that every strand of hair
would be crossed, too.

Look at me, rooting for the guy who wouldn’t let me go to Colossus Coaster Kingdom. Wow, life is strange.

“The winner is Martina Stone from Cheyenne, Wyoming.”

Oh no. It’s the cowboy lady. I can’t look at him.

“And the first runner-up is Stanley Zipzer from New York, New York.”

Hey, they called his name.
My hands started clapping and my lips started whistling.

My dad stood up to get his blue ribbon. It looked like he had a smile on his face, but I could tell it wasn’t a full stretch of the lips.

When he walked off the stage, I ran over to him and threw my arms around him.

“Congratulations, Dad. You did great!”

“It’s only second place, Hank.”

“Are you kidding? You got a ribbon and everything. Dad, you beat out 298 people. You’re the second-best crossworder in this room. Maybe in the world.”

“But I’m not number one.”

“You are to me, Dad. I’m so proud of you.”

My dad just looked at me. Then he smiled, and this time it was for real.

“You know what, Hank? You saying that is better than the first-place ribbon.”

We didn’t say another word. We didn’t have to. We just walked silently out of the room and to the car. Well, that’s not exactly true. When we got to the car, I looked at him and said, “Shotgun.”

He laughed and said, “You got it.”

L
ISTEN TO THIS.
You’re not going to believe it.

Frankie threw up on Freefall all over the couple in the car in front of him. He spent the rest of the day trying to hide from them.

Emily was too short to ride any of the roller coasters. The hot dogs at the snack bar were cold, and they didn’t have her favorite yellow mustard.

My mom wound up with two blisters, one on each heel.

On the other hand, my dad and I had one of the most exciting days of my life.

It’s a funny thing. You just never know where a good time is going to come from.

H
ENRY
W
INKLER
is an actor, producer, director, coauthor, public speaker, husband, father, brother, uncle, and godfather. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife, Stacey. They have three children named Jed, Zoe, and Max, and three dogs named Monty, Charlotte, and Linus. He is so proud of the Hank Zipzer series that he could scream—which he does sometimes, in his backyard!

If you gave him two words to describe how he feels about the Hank Zipzer series, he would say: “I am thrilled that Lin Oliver is my partner and we write all these books together.” Yes, you’re right, that was sixteen words. But, hey! He’s got learning challenges.

L
IN
O
LIVER
is a writer and producer of movies, books, and television series for children and families. She has created over one hundred episodes of tele-vision, four movies, and over twelve books. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, Alan. They have three sons named Theo, Ollie, and Cole, and a very adorable but badly behaved puppy named Dexter.

If you gave her two words to describe this book, she would say “funny and compassionate.” If you asked her what compassionate meant, she would say “full of kindness.” She would not make you look it up in the dictionary.