Never Glue Your Friends to Chairs (2 page)

The junk drawer always has wonderful things in it.

Keys. Puzzle pieces. Paper clips. The head from one of Hazel’s dolls.

I was playing brain surgeon the day that happened.

The patient died.

I pulled out the bag of art supplies.

I added three purple rubber bands to the bag.

And a Slinky that wouldn’t slink anymore.

And the doll head.

You never know when you might need an extra head.

And then I saw something else in the drawer.

A bottle of Super-Mega-Gonzo Glue.

The grown-up glue Mom calls
don’t-you-dare
glue.

Super-Mega-Gonzo Glue is extra strong.

Dad used it when I broke my great-grandma’s very old teacup.

And when I broke Mom’s very precious flower vase.

And when I broke Grandpa’s very ugly glass potato souvenir from Idaho.

Adults really should keep breakable stuff away from us kids.

Mom glanced into the family room. “Max! Did you find your other shoe? The bus will be here in five minutes.”

My big brother came into the kitchen.

He was armed with a juice box.

“My shoe is on the roof,” Max said. Then he squirted me with his straw.

At least it was apple juice. That’s my favorite.

“Max!” Mom cried.

“He started this war,” Max said.

“My hair’s all wet,” I complained.

“Maybe you should cut off your head,” Max said.

Which was not all that helpful, really.

“Shut up,” I said to Max.

“Roscoe!” Dad said.

“Shut up, PLEASE,” I said.

“Wait just a minute, Max,” Mom said. “Did you say your shoe is
on the roof
?”

“There’s a good explanation,” Max said.

“I’m sure there is,” said Dad. His eyebrow went up again.

That eyebrow gets a lot of exercise.

“Me and Roscoe were playing astronaut,” Max said.

“Max’s shoe was the space shuttle,” I added.

“I need a ladder,” Mom said.

“I need more coffee,” Dad said.

“I need a new brother,” I said.

“You need a new brain,” said Max.

“Guys,” said Dad. “Peace.”

“Roscoe, Max and your dad and I have work to do on the roof,” Mom said. “Keep an eye on Hazel for me, sweetie.”

Hazel is my little sister. She was busy watching cartoons in the family room.

Mom says educational cartoons are okay.

Especially until she’s had her first cup of coffee.

“I’ll hold the ladder,” Dad said to Mom, “if you climb.”

Dad is afraid of heights. But don’t tell anybody. It’s a family secret.

Also, please don’t tell him he is losing his hair.

Dads can be very sensitive, you know.

“Dad,” I said. “Before you go outside, I think you should know you only have one sock on.”

Dad looked down at his foot. “Has anyone seen my other sock?”

“Try the roof,” Mom said.

“Try Goofy’s stomach,” I said. “I think he ate it.”

Goofy is our big white dog.

He is very open-minded about his diet.

Dad groaned. Then he went outside with his one bare foot. Followed by Max and Mom.

I checked on Hazel. She was talking to a blue dog on the TV screen.

Goofy was eating her cereal.

I went back to the junk drawer.

I picked up the
don’t-you-dare
glue.

I imagined Mom saying, “Roscoe, don’t you dare touch the
don’t-you-dare
glue!”

I put the glue down.

I imagined my teacher saying, “Roscoe, what a wonderful helper you are! Thank you so much for the grown-up glue!”

Hazel came into the kitchen. She was wearing a paper crown.

Hazel’s favorite games are Princess Dress-up, Mud Pie Picnic, and Let’s Dress Up Roscoe Like a Princess and Make Him Eat Mud Pies.

“…h, i, j, k, Ellen Emmo peed,” Hazel sang.

She paused. “Who is Ellen Emmo?” she asked.

“They’ll explain all that in kindergarten,” I said.

I picked up the glue again.

Hazel’s eyes got big. “That’s the
don’t-you-dare
glue!”

“It’s for my teacher,” I said. “Things are always breaking at school. Like yesterday, when I broke the pencil sharpener.”

Sometimes I get a little carried away when I’m sharpening.

I put the glue in the bag of art supplies. Then I grabbed my Hero Guy backpack.

Hero Guy doesn’t have his own TV show or anything.

Mom got him on sale at the mall.

“Hey, Roscoe,” Max called. “Hurry up! The bus is coming! And you gotta come see something!”

I took Hazel’s hand. I looked at the junk drawer one last time.

Maybe I should put the glue back,
I thought.

After all, when you call something
don’t-you-dare
glue, there’s probably a good reason.

I could hear the bus driver honking.

Oh well,
I thought.

It was just a harmless little bitty bottle of glue.

When Hazel and I got outside, I saw a big silver ladder leaning against the house.

Dad was holding it.

“Check it out!” Max exclaimed. “Mom’s on the roof again!”

“Excellent,” I said.

That is always a good way to start your day.

I yelled good-bye as I ran for the bus stop.

“See you at the open house!” Dad called.

Just then there was a big gust of wind.

The ladder fell with a crash.

Probably Mom would have yelled goodbye, too.

But she was too busy hanging from the roof.

When I got to my classroom, my friends Gus and Emma ran over to say hello.

The first thing we did was our Secret Handshake.

Here is how it goes. In case you would like to try it.

• 1. Scream each other’s names.
  
• 2. Wait for the teacher to say, “Inside voices, PLEASE!”
  
• 3. Do a high five.
  
• 3. Do a low five.
  
• 4. Stick out your tongue.
  
• 5. Get all serious and say, “How do you do, Mr. Riley?”
  

Of course, you would not say
Riley
, probably.

It would be pretty amazing if we had the same last name.

Emma pointed to my elbows. “Cool sparkle Band-Aids, Roscoe.”

I mostly always have a Band-Aid on me somewhere.

Or a cast. Or a sling.

Mom says to think of it all as a fashion statement.

When I was four, I even had an eye patch.

The eye patch was black. Totally pirate.

“How’d you get the Band-Aids?” Gus asked.

“Racing my Hot Wheels car down the stairs,” I said. “The Hot Wheels won.”

“Household accidents are the most
common cause of injuries in children,” said Emma.

Emma teaches me lots of interesting facts.

She was born in China. Her parents adopted her when she was a baby.

I wish I was born in China. Instead of just Kalamazoo.

Gus teaches me lots of useful things too.

Just last week he showed me how to make armpit farts.

“What’s in the bag, Roscoe?” Emma asked.

“Art stuff for Ms. Diz,” I said.

I opened the bag. Gus and Emma peeked inside.

“Cool head,” Gus said.

“Her name was Drusilla,” I said. “Before
I brain-surgeried her.”

“Super-Mega-Gonzo Glue!” Gus said. “Whoa. My mom won’t let me near that stuff!”

“Me either,” said Emma.

“Me either,” I said. “But I figured Ms.

Diz could use it. For when we break stuff. Let’s go show her what I brought.”

Ms. Diz was busy stapling butterfly pictures to the bulletin board.

Ms. Diz isn’t really her name.

But her real name is hard to say. It uses maybe half of the alphabet.

So she cut off the end for my class.

Maybe when I’m a grown-up, I’ll be called Mr. Ri for short.

Or not.

I handed Ms. Diz the bag of art supplies. “This is for you,” I said. “It’s for the art
cupboard. There’s special glue in there. And I even included a free head.”

Ms. Diz frowned. “What
kind
of head, Roscoe?”

“Just a doll head.” I smiled so she wouldn’t worry.

Since Ms. Diz is new, she gets mixed up sometimes.

I try to help her out whenever I can.

After all, I was a kindergartner last year. So I already know everything there is to know about school.

For example, when Ms. Diz forgot the janitor’s name, I remembered it was Mr. McGeely.

She had to call him when Gus threw up his ravioli after lunch.

Sometimes Ms. Diz looks pretty pooped by the end of the day.

I hope she doesn’t decide to go into another line of work. My kindergarten teacher did that.

It wasn’t my fault.

Probably.

Although I think maybe she got a little frustrated when I painted the class hamsters. Green. Because it was Saint Patrick’s Day.

Hamsters like to look perky for the holidays.

Ms. Diz checked her watch. “Class!” she said in a loud voice.

Then she put a finger on her lips. That means SHHH.

“I know you’re all excited about the open house today,” said Ms. Diz. “We’re going to have a dress rehearsal first thing this morning.”

Dress rehearsal is when you practice with costumes and stuff.

It doesn’t mean you have to wear a dress.

“Let’s just hope things go a little better than they did yesterday,” Ms. Diz said with a laugh. “I’m sure today we’ll all be on our best behavior.”

Poor old brand-new Ms. Diz.

I think maybe she forgot about our high spirits.

“First, I want all you bees to put on your antennae,” said Ms. Diz.

Real bees use their head bobbles to smell and feel things.

But ours were just made of pipe cleaners and Styrofoam balls. With glitter on them.

They were attached to a plastic headband
thingie. Shaped like a great big upside-down U.

Last year the third graders used the bobbles for a play about butterflies.

So the headbands were a little stretched out by their gigantic third-grade heads.

When we were ready, Ms. Diz went to the music cupboard.

She handed each drummer two red tapping sticks.

We use the sticks for Music Time. They are our instruments.

Only really I would rather have a drum set.

Or a tuba.

“I know how much fun the sticks are, children,” said Ms. Diz. “But as you may recall, some of you got a little carried away yesterday.”

I think maybe she was looking at me.

But I wasn’t the only one who got in stick trouble.

Gus was the one who started the pretend sword fight.

I was Not Guilty.

Mostly.

“Our rhythm section sits in the chairs,” said Ms. Diz. “Nice and still.”

That was me. And Gus. And Dewan and Maria and Coco.

“All the other bees in the back row,” said Ms. Diz. “Standing up nice and tall.”

We got into our places.

Bees and bee drummers.

Bobbles and sticks.

We were ready for action.

“Okay, let’s sing nice and clear,” said Ms. Diz. “And no poking with the sticks.”

“How about swords?” Dewan asked.

“No swords,” said Ms. Diz.

“How about death rays?” Gus asked.

“No death rays,” said Ms. Diz. “When I count to three, start singing!”

Here is how our bee song goes:

Buzzy bees, fuzzy bees,

Look at us fly!

Bees are the best bugs!

You want to know why?

We make our own honey

and soar in the sky.

Can you do what we do?

We dare you to try!

“Great job!” said Ms. Diz when we were done. “Roscoe, you sound especially wonderful. But we need to hear the
other kids too.”

“He’s blowing out my eardrums, Ms. Diz,” Coco complained.

“My head bobbles keep falling off!” Wyatt said.

Ms. Diz took a deep breath.

“I know the antennae don’t fit very well, children. Just do the best you can. Let’s try the song one more time. This time, let me hear those sticks pounding out the rhythm!”

We sang again. I was not so loud this time.

But if you ask me, they were missing out.

“Better,” said Ms. Diz when we were done.

“My bobbles keep falling in my eyes!”

Hassan said.

“Oh, dear,” said Ms. Diz. “Maybe we should just forget about the antennae.”

“But we have to have bobbles!” Coco cried. “Otherwise how will our parents know we’re bees?”

“You make a good point, Coco. Hassan, bring me your antennae,” said Ms. Diz. “Maybe I can tighten them up a little.”

While Ms. Diz worked on Hassan’s bobbles, Maria started tapping her sticks.

Dewan tapped along.

Gus tapped too.

On my head.

“Children,” said Ms. Diz. She was still trying to fix Hassan’s bobbles. “No tapping, please.”

We sat and waited. While we sat there, I came up with a new invention.

I put the rhythm sticks in my mouth.

I made them point straight down.

Ta-da! Walrus teeth!

I think when I grow up I may be a famous inventor.

Or else an ice cream truck driver.

Dewan and Gus laughed at my walrus teeth.

Maria put her sticks on her head. She looked just like an alien.

Even more people laughed.

Gus put his sticks up his nose.

He just looked gross.

Pretty soon we were all tapping and laughing and being walruses and aliens.

Except Gus.

He just kept the sticks in his nose.

“Children!” said Ms. Diz loudly.

But we couldn’t hear her very well.

What with all the tapping and laughing.

Gus held up one of his nose sticks. “I challenge you to a duel!” he cried.

“Yuck,” said Coco.

I jumped up on my chair.

So did Gus.

You can’t sword-fight sitting down.

We sort of forgot about the no-sword-fighting rule.

“Roscoe!!! Gus!!! Children!!!” Ms. Diz held up her hand and put a finger to her lips. “Quiet down NOW!”

We got very quiet.

Gus and I froze on our chairs.

Ms. Diz pointed to the doorway.

Mr. Goosegarden was standing there.

He is the principal. That is the big boss of the school.

He is mostly nice.

Unless you’ve been Making Bad Choices.

Then you have to sit in his office and think about your behavior.

When that happens, Mr. Goosegarden wears his I-mean-business face.

And right now, Mr. Goosegarden had on his I-REALLY-mean-business face.