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Authors: Elissa Brent Weissman

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BOOK: The Trouble with Mark Hopper
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“Which one?” she asked.
“Yes, there are two.”
“There are two?”
“Yes.”
The crowd was scratching their heads.
Judy Shane consulted her notes. “Mark Geoffrey Hopper. Geoffrey with a
G
.”
“Yes, there are two.”
“There are two?”
“Yes.”
The press began to snap pictures of Mr. Haverty and Judy Shane, awkward and puzzled.
“Well, you can figure that out with the committee after we finish up here,” Judy Shane said with confused smile.
Emily stood up from the front row. “He has brown hair, side-parted. And lots of freckles,” she offered.
The principal sighed and shook his head.
Dr. Latchky approached the principal, the politician, and the podium. “Maybe we should just have someone deliver the trophy to the address on his application,” Dr. Latchky whispered. Once again, the microphone picked it up.
“I'll take it,” said Grace.
“You have his address!” shouted the principal. The audience covered their ears it was so loud. “That ought to get to the bottom of it. I'll take the trophy and be sure he gets it, and I'll take the painting you were talking about.”
Dr. Latchky took Mr. Haverty's arm and led him away from the podium. “We seem to have temporarily misplaced the painting,” she whispered.
“The painting isn't here?” Mr. Haverty said, loud enough for the microphone to catch it and share it with the crowd.
“There's no painting?” shouted someone.
“And no Mark Hopper?”
“No, there are two Mark Hoppers.”
“But neither is here.”
“And neither is his painting.”
“This is very fishy.”
“This is rigged!”
“Give the award to someone real!”
“Yeah! How do we know Mark Hopper even exists?”
“Give it to someone who's here to accept it.”
“Yeah, give it to Grace!”
“No, give it to one of the runners-up, at least. Give it to Harrison.”
“Only if he shares it with Emily!”
Dr. Latchky tried to quiet everyone down, but it was no use. Mr. Haverty decided officially that trying to sort out the two Marks was not worth the trouble. “You know what,” he said. “Just mail the trophy to his home. I don't want to get involved.”
Chapter
36
Mark's Dad's News
“Keep your eyes closed, Grandpa!”
“They're closed, they're closed.”
“You're peeking!”
“Only because I don't want to walk into a wall. It's a good thing Beth doesn't have her driver's license yet.”
“Grandpa!”
“Just kidding, Beth. You're doing a dynamite steering job.”
“Almost there,” said Mark's mom.
“Just a few more steps,” said Mark's dad.
“This way, this way,” Mark guided. He ran ahead to make sure his painting was there. He stood and looked at it for a moment. He positioned Grandpa Murray right in front of the painting. Grandpa Murray turned to the side, and Mark laughed and turned him back toward the portrait. “Okay, open up! Happy birthday!”
He did. There he was, face-to-face with the portrait of himself he was supposed to be seeing for the first time. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect, from the chip in one of his teeth to the way the newspaper was folded to the sparse hairs on his head. “You got me a mirror?” he asked. He scratched his head, but the image on the wall didn't. “A mirror that shows you only at your best.”
Mark beamed. “It's not a mirror.”
Grandpa Murray reached out. He looked at Mark, who nodded. He touched the corner of the canvas. “When did you snap this picture of me?”
Mark laughed. “Come on, Grandpa. I painted it.”
“You did?”
“Yes.”
“My grandson painted this work of art?”
“I did!” Mark grinned.
“Isn't it beautiful?” asked Mark's mom.
“Well, of course,” said Grandpa Murray. He posed. They all laughed.
“Do you like it?” Mark asked.
“I love it. You are the most talented artist in all of the continental forty-eight states.”
“Why not Hawaii or Alaska?” asked Beth.
“Well, probably there, too, but we don't want Mark to get cocky.”
“I'll take just the forty-eight states,” said Mark.
Grandpa Murray scooped Mark up and squeezed him tightly, then gave him a big, wet kiss on the side of the forehead.
“Grandpa!” Mark felt his ears turn red, for he saw Jonathan and Jasmina walking down the hallway. They waved and started galloping toward him.
“How did you get it to be displayed here in the library?” Grandpa Murray asked.
Good question, Mark thought.
“There it is!” Jonathan said when he and Jasmina reached the painting.
“Yep, it's here,” Mark said, trying to hide his relief.
“Mark is the only sixth grader who had a painting picked to be hung in the library,” Jonathan told the Hoppers. “He's like the art-club celebrity. I painted a portrait of Superman, but it wasn't picked.”
“Whoa,” said Jasmina. “What happened to you? That is so weird—Mark also has a black eye.” She stopped herself, then looked at Mark with her eyebrows raised. “Oh, boy. What did he say to you?”
Mark shrugged, motioned toward his parents, and took a few steps down the hall. “It's fine,” he said. “I'm okay.”
“Speaking of Mark, you know the Mastermind tournament was yesterday? He didn't go to the awards ceremony.”
“Really?” Mark's left eye widened, but his right stayed in a half squint.
“I know,” Jasmina said. “My little brother and I were going to go to the ceremony with him and his mom and sister. But when we went over to his house, he said he wasn't going to go to it. I figured maybe he did really badly in that teamwork part, or the interview, so he didn't want to go because he wasn't going to win. But he said he thought he did probably win; he just didn't even want the trophy.”
“Why not?”
“Beats me. He said he didn't deserve it. I think he really must be lying because he didn't do well, but he didn't sound like it. He was kind of in a down mood, though. Turns out his parents are officially getting divorced.”
Jonathan walked up and winced at the sight of Mark's eye. “Ouch,” he said. “Does it hurt?”
Mark reached up and touched it. It was no longer puffy, but it still had a black pouch underneath it. “Not that much anymore. It's a little bit sore, but it'll be okay.”
Mark's dad and grandpa approached the group. “Do I get to keep this birthday present,” Grandpa Murray asked, “or will I have to come to the library every time I want to look at it? I'm not going to have to take up reading, am I?”
“It'll be up until the end of the year, but then I can take it home.”
“But you should take up reading anyway, Grandpa,” said Beth.
“The end of the year, you said, Mark?” asked Mr. Hopper.
“Yeah. I can take it home in January, I think.”
“So it'll move in with me.”
“What?” asked Beth, suddenly appearing at her dad's side.
“I said that the painting and I will move in at the same time,” Mr. Hopper repeated. “Well, actually, I'll get there about week before it does, at Christmastime.”
“You're moving in with us at Christmas?”
“Well, that was the plan,” Mr. Hopper said with a shrug. “The house will be officially sold this week, and I start my new job the first week in January.”
Beth threw her arms around her father and Mark threw his arms around her. “I knew it!” Mark shouted. A librarian stuck her head down the hallway and put a finger to her lips, so Mark just hugged him tighter and celebrated in silence.
“Beth,” said Mrs. Hopper, “that means you're going to have to move your bug colony from the garage so that Dad can park his car in there.”
“It's not a colony, Mom, it's a lab. But I will. I'll do anything to make room for Dad.”
“Me too!” said Mark. He would do anything to complete his family, he realized, even something that wasn't really right, if he really thought it had even the slightest chance of working. He wondered how he'd feel if he had risked everything for a plan that ended up failing. He decided he'd feel like he needed a second chance, even if he didn't deserve one.
“What do you think?” Mr. Hopper said. He tousled Mark's hair. “Can Greenburgh handle one more Hopper?”
Mark and Jasmina and Jonathan looked at one another. They laughed.
“I think it can,” said Grandpa Murray. He winked at Mark.
Mark thought. “I think so, too.”
Chapter
37
The Trouble with Mark Hopper
Jonathan and Jasmina went back to Mark's house to celebrate Grandpa Murray's birthday. Right after Grandpa Murray blew out the candles on his cake, the doorbell rang. It was Mark.
“Hey,” said Mark.
“Hey. I came to say I'm sorry for stealing your painting.”
“Are you really sorry?”
“Really, really, exponentially sorry.”
“Exponentially?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” Mark sighed. “How's your eye?”
“It kind of hurts,” Mark admitted. “You punch hard.”
“Really? Cool. Thanks. You do, too.”
“Thanks.”
Mark looked at Mark. He wanted to say, “I'm sorry about your parents,” but instead he said, “Jasmina told me you didn't go to the awards ceremony. Is that true?”
“Yeah. If they said Mark Hopper won, it'd be you. How come
you
didn't go?”
Mark shrugged. “What good would that trophy do me? I didn't even enter. It would just get us in trouble.”
“It wouldn't do me any good, either. It's just a stupid trophy.”
“Yeah.” Mark laughed. “It is just a stupid trophy . . . I wonder who won it, though.”
“You really might have.”
“You think?”
“Duh. You're Mark Hopper. That name means excellence.”
Mark laughed. “That's true.”
Mark took off his backpack and took out a stack of books and folders. “Here,” he said, holding them out to Mark.
“What is this?”
“I photocopied all of my notes and tests. To help you study for the big tests we have before Christmas break. So you can stay in honors classes.” He looked down and started running the tip of his foot along the frame of the door. “I can keep helping you, too, but only if you want.”
“Thanks.” Mark took the stack. “What're these?” he asked, holding up a couple of items from the top of the pile.
“It's what it looks like. A blue ribbon for spelling, and a book about Albert Einstein. To inspire you.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, and one more thing.” Mark took a folded-up piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Mark. He stood awkwardly on the porch kicking around a pebble while Mark read it.
Reasons you should consider giving me a second chance (even though I dont really deserve it):
1. I am very sorry for taking your painting and lying to you about it.
2.
I want you to stay in honors classes, and I can help you.
3.
The tournament is over (and I don't care about winning it anymore anyway), so I have more time to learn how to be a nice person, and you are the best person to teach me.
4.
We have the same name, so it'd be confusing if we were enemies.
5.
Together we're unstoppable (evidence includes Operation: Bug Dump and Operation: Mastermind).
6.
We need to figure out what to do if Mark Hopper really did win and the newspapers come wanting to interview one of us.
Mark's eyes widened. “What will we do if they come wanting to interview us?”
“Well,” Mark said. “I thought of two plans. If you want, I can tell the truth. I can tell them that I forced you to go in my place.”
“I don't know if they'll believe that.”
“No . . . we might still both get in trouble. But I'll be in more trouble.”
“What is the other plan?”
Mark puffed out his chest—though not too far—and smiled—though without much scowl. “The other option is just to confuse everybody. And convince them that everything got all mixed up because we have the same name.”
Mark's eyes widened. He looked back at number five on the list:
Together we're unstoppable.
He smiled. “Do you want to come in and have some birthday cake? We're having a caveman birthday—no utensils! It's really fun. Jasmina and Jonathan are here.”
“Did you tell them what happened?”
Mark shook his head.
“So they don't hate me?”
Mark shook his head again.
Mark wanted to hug Mark. But instead he just said, “Thank you.”
“You know,” Mark replied, his wide eyes shining, “if you keep saying ‘thank you' and I keep getting good grades, people really won't know which Mark Geoffrey Hopper is which.”
Mark scratched his head in feigned confusion. Then he grinned. “There are two?”
Elissa Brent Weissman
went to junior high with two Evan Zuckers, and she always felt bad for the
nice
Evan Zucker, since Evan Zucker was such a jerk. She lives in Baltimore, Maryland, where she teaches writing to adults, college students, and gifted-and-talented children. She is the author of
Standing for Socks.
Visit Elissa on the web at
www.ebweissman.com
BOOK: The Trouble with Mark Hopper
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