The Night I Flunked My Field Trip #5 (4 page)

“Please, Ms. Adolf,” I said, thrusting the permission slip practically in her face. “I did my super-speed walk all the way here, even though I have a big blister on my left heel and really shouldn't be speed-walking at this moment in time. And, besides, Principal Love stopped me in the hall.”

Ms. Adolf took the permission slip and looked it over. My heart was beating fast. I glanced over at Frankie and Ashley. They looked like they were hardly breathing.

“All right, Henry. I'll make an exception this time,” she said.

“Does that mean I can go on the field trip?” I asked.

“Yes, Henry. You may go.”

“Thank you, Ms. Adolf! Thank you so much!”

I was so happy, I could have hugged her. Wait. I take the hugging part back. But I was really happy.

To my complete shock, everyone in the class burst into applause.

“Way to go, Hank,” all my friends said. Wow, that made me feel really good.

I DON'T KNOW IF YOU'VE EVER BEEN in New York City at Christmastime, but it's unbelievable. The best thing about it is that everybody's in a great mood. Just walking down the street looking at the decorated store windows and watching the snow fall makes everybody happy. No one in the whole city is mean or grumpy.

Well, that's the way it felt that day in Ms. Adolf's class. We were all so happy to be going on
The Pilgrim Spirit
and so excited about the trip, that no one was mean or grumpy. And, yes, that included Nick McKelty. The big lug actually turned nice.

In the afternoon, we were discussing all the jobs kids were going to be assigned on the ship. Some people were going to be on the cleaning crew or on the ropes crew. Some were going to be line handlers. Other kids were going to work in the galley, which is what they call a kitchen on a ship.

Nick McKelty said that his big brother Joseph had been on
The Pilgrim Spirit
three years before, and he thought the most fun job was the captain's assistant. The captain's assistant got to accompany the captain on his rounds and help give orders. That sounded so cool. I could see myself doing that.

Just to show you how good a mood everyone was in, during our class discussion, Nick actually suggested that I should be the captain's assistant. He said he thought I deserved it since I almost didn't get to go. At first, I thought I was hearing things. I mean, ever since we were in preschool, Nick McKelty had only said mean things to me.

“What's up with you, McKelty?” I whispered to him.

“Can't a guy do something nice every once in a while?” he said. “I feel sorry for you, Zipzer. You had a rough morning.”

Hey, I'd take his pity, if it meant I'd get to be captain's assistant. I'm not too big for that.

The class took a vote and I got the job. Only one person voted against me, and believe it or not, it wasn't Nick McKelty. It was Luke Whitman, who felt that he deserved the job more because he owned a real pirate hat with a big feather. When Ms. Adolf explained that
The Pilgrim Spirit
wasn't a pirate ship, Luke changed his mind and voted for me. He said he only wanted to be a captain's assistant on a pirate ship, anyway.

This was too good to be true. I was spending the night on
The Pilgrim Spirit
and I was going to be the captain's assistant.

Some days start out bad, and just wind up perfect.

SCHOOL WAS OUT AT THREE O‘CLOCK, but we had to be back by five o'clock sharp with our bags. It would take us about a half hour by school bus to reach the South Street Seaport where
The Pilgrim Spirit
was docked. Even though we weren't scheduled to go on board until six, we had to leave time for New York City traffic. Once we were aboard the ship, we'd be under the command of the captain until nine-thirty the next morning, when our parents were coming to pick us up at the dock.

I had a lot to do to get ready, so I was nervous when Frankie's dad didn't show up exactly at three o'clock to walk us home.

There were five of us waiting in front of the school. Frankie, Ashley, and I all live in the same apartment building on 78th Street. We always walk to and from school together. Then there was my sister Emily, who unfortunately lives in the same apartment as I do.

The fifth person was the supremely annoying Robert Upchurch, the biggest third-grade nuisance that ever tried to breathe. I say tried because his nasal passages are always clogged with mucus. My sister Emily's nasal passages are in the same clogged condition, so the two of them have bonded, nasally speaking. Robert hangs out with us a lot, because my mom says it's not polite to leave him out since he lives in the building too.

Robert is the kind of kid who wears a white shirt and tie to school just because he feels like it. He's not even in the orchestra or anything. Lately, we've gotten lucky because Robert has been spending a lot of time with Emily. They share a deep interest in iguanas and geckos and snakes and many other nerdish things.

Frankie's dad arrived a few minutes after three. It's only a few blocks to our building, but he set out at a really fast pace. We had to take four steps for each one of his.

Dr. Townsend is a professor at Columbia University and he uses so many big words that I have trouble following what he's saying. As we walked, he talked a lot about our field trip that night. Even though he teaches African-American Studies, he seemed to know a bunch about sailing ships.

“I hear that
The Pilgrim Spirit
is a precise replica of the brig that Richard Henry Dana sailed,” he said as we passed Kim's Grocery. I could smell all the flowers in their buckets of water lining the front of the store.

“What's a brig?” I asked. “And while we're at it, could you tell me what a replica is too?”

“A replica means that the ship you're staying on is an exact copy of Dana's original,” Dr. Townsend said. “And a brig is a type of ship.”

“Actually, a brig is a two-masted vessel with square sails on both masts,” piped up Robert.

“And a secondary definition is that it is a military jail.”

Dr. Townsend looked very surprised that Robert would know something like that. The rest of us weren't surprised. We have to listen to Robert all the time, and he's like a walking encyclopedia of useless information. Without asking, he will tell you the main crop of Outer Mongolia, besides rocks. Every time he opens his mouth, something boring leaks out.

“Was Richard Henry Dana a pirate?” Emily asked. “I'd like to be a pirate.”

“Oh yeah, you'd look a lot better with an eye patch,” I said.

She wrinkled up her nose at me, and I wrinkled up mine back at her. Two can play that game.

“Richard Henry Dana was a writer,” said Dr. Townsend. “He authored the classic book
Two Years Before the Mast.
It described what life was like on a merchant sailing ship almost two hundred years ago.”

“Actually, his book was published in 1840,” Robert said.

“How do you know that, Robert?” Dr. Townsend asked. I couldn't tell if he was impressed or annoyed. As for me, I was in the annoyed category.

“I read all about
The Pilgrim Spirit
during library period today,” said Robert. “I have many more facts I'd be happy to share with you.”

“Thanks, dude, but my ears are closed for business right now,” Frankie said.

“When do they reopen?” the clueless one asked.

“Uh ... when we get back from our sea-faring,” Frankie said.

“Besides, we won't be able to hear you over the traffic,” Ashley added.

“Good one, Ashweena,” Frankie whispered to her.

“I'd love to hear what you learned,” my sister Emily piped up. See what I mean about Emily and Robert sharing an interest in super nerdy things? There was no turning off Robert now. And, believe me, I looked for the switch.

“Richard Henry Dana's ship set sail from Boston and sailed around Cape Horn, which is the tip of South America,” said Robert.

“Everybody knows what Cape Horn is, dude,” Frankie snapped.

Everyone but me. I didn't know. So I kept my mouth shut.

“The ship picked up animal hides in California,” Robert droned on. “Then it sailed all the way back to Boston where the hides were made into shoes and other leather goods.”

“I don't believe in making shoes from the skins of animals,” said Emily. “Just think of my beautiful Katherine, made into a pair of shoes.”

“You don't have to worry about her,” I said. “Katherine's too ugly to be made into anything. Who'd want a pair of scaly, grey shoes with a long, snapping tongue?”

“That's not funny, Hank,” said Emily. “I happen to love Katherine.”

“Sorry, Em,” I said. “I hope Katherine lives a long and happy life. Just not in my bathtub.”

Hey, I know what I'm saying. She loves to poop in there. Katherine, not Emily, that is.

With Dr. Townsend setting the pace and all of us running away from Robert, we reached our apartment building in world-record time. As we approached the front door, we ran into Papa Pete and my mom. They were just coming up the street from the other direction. I could tell that my mom had been working all day, because she was wearing one of her big head-bands. She puts them on to keep her curly hair out of her face so it doesn't get all crusty with her food experiments. Before she discovered that trick, she always used to have little chunks of soylami or mock tuna in her hair at the end of the day.

“Hi, everyone,” my mom said. “Big night tonight, huh?”

Then she sang, “Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.” My mom has a song for every occasion.

She rubbed me on the head as I held the door open for her. I wondered if Carlos had told her about my phone call.

“How're my grandkids?” Papa Pete said, giving each of us a pinch on the cheek as we walked by him into the lobby area. Papa Pete wasn't just talking about me and Emily. He calls Frankie and Ashley his grandkids too, because he likes them so much. I can't imagine he feels that way about Robert, but Papa Pete would never leave him out. He even gave his bony little face a pinch. Ick and double ick.

As I pressed the button for the elevator, Ashley checked her watch.

“It's three-thirty,” she said. “We have to be at the bus at five. That gives us an hour-and-a-half to pack, snack, and get back to school.”

“Hank,” my mom said. “Be sure you remember to pack your sleeping bag.”

“I will, Mom.”

“In fact, before we leave for school, I want to check your duffel bag to make sure you have it.”

“You don't have to do that, Mom,” I said.

“You know how you always forget things,” Emily said to me. “You're such a brainless one.”

I really didn't feel like letting her get away with that.

“Oh really, Emily? Tell me, when was the last time I forgot something?”

I looked over at Papa Pete, but he said nothing. He just kept looking at the numbers above the elevator. Frankie and Ashley did the same.

“Okay, I take it back,” Emily said.

“Good.”

It wasn't until we were inside the elevator, tucked against the back wall, that Papa Pete looked over at me and winked.

“MOM, DO YOU KNOW where my Mets sweatshirt is?” I hollered from my bedroom.

I must have yelled a little too loud, because I startled Cheerio, who was sleeping underneath my desk. He jumped up and started to spin around, chasing his tail like crazy, and spun himself right out of my room. He moves pretty fast, considering that he's going in circles.

“Your sweatshirt should be in your bottom drawer, where it always is,” my mom hollered back from the kitchen.

I had already pulled everything out of my bottom drawer. My Mets sweatshirt was missing. It was the one thing I really wanted to take on the overnight on
The Pilgrim Spirit.
It made me feel warm, both inside and out. As if you couldn't tell, I'm a major New York Mets fan.

“I can't believe it! It's not here, Mom,” I yelled.

My dad appeared at the door of my room. He was in an excellent mood, having come in second in the All New Jersey Crossword Puzzle Competition. Apparently, he was the only one who had known that a “plover” was a six-letter word for a round-bodied, short-tailed wading bird. If that doesn't put a guy in a great mood, I don't know what will.

“Hank, sweatshirts don't just get up and walk away,” he said.

No sooner had he said those words than I looked down and saw my sweatshirt walking away. I'm not kidding. It was heading out the door of my room and down the hall.

“Want to bet?” I said, and ran after it. By the time I reached it, it had walked right into Emily's room.

“Come back here!” I cried, grabbing the sweatshirt with both hands. As I pulled it off, underneath it was her lovely iguana, Katherine.

“Hank, what are you doing to her?” Emily wailed.

“What? What am I dong? I'm taking back what's mine,” I said. “And please tell your scaly lizoid to keep her claws out of my drawers.”

“Kathy likes to snuggle up in soft clothes,” Emily said. “You know that.”

“Then let her curl up in your sock drawer. My Mets things are off-limits.”

Emily patted Katherine on the snout. “It's okay, sweetie,” she said in her baby-talk iguana voice. “Hank doesn't mean it.”

“Yes, I do,” I shouted. “Don't believe her, Katherine. I mean it.”

The bathroom door opened and Papa Pete came out.