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Authors: Elissa Brent Weissman

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BOOK: The Trouble with Mark Hopper
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Their mom slapped Beth's hand. “You're fourteen years old. Close your mouth when you eat.”
“Do you want to talk to Dad?” Mark asked her.
“No,” said Beth. She kept cutting a pork chop with vigor, then made a show of taking the piece off her fork with her teeth.
“He wants to talk to you,” Mark said.
“Well, I don't want to talk to him,” Beth said. She stuck out her tongue, which was covered in pork-chop mush. Some of the mush dripped out of her mouth and onto her plate.
“I'll talk to him,” their mother said with a sigh. She got up from the table and wiped her hands.
Mark ran back to the phone. “Mom's coming,” he said. “Bye, Dad!” He handed the phone to his mother hesitantly. This could be good or bad. From the way he heard his mom say his dad's name, he knew it was bad. He stomped back into the kitchen, plopped down into a chair, stabbed his fork into a pork chop, and ate. He needed more evidence of artistic or athletic talent. He was more determined than ever to win the Mastermind tournament; that would make his dad realize how much he liked and missed his son. And when he had a trophy that matched his dad's three, they'd need to place them all right next to one another, which meant his dad would
have
to come back.
Chapter
13
Mark Proves Himself Useless
“Can I practice something on you, Grandpa?” Mark asked Grandpa Murray that night after dinner.
“Sure.” Grandpa Murray put down his half-finished cross-word puzzle and assumed a boxer's stance.
Mark laughed. “It's not something like that,” he said.
“It's not for that turkey who stole your name?”
“Well, sort of. My math teacher, Miss Payley, said she thinks I should have a study partner, which would be fine. But the study partner she gave me is the other Mark Hopper.”
“Good grief.”
“So I am going to go to Miss Payley tomorrow after class and tell her”—he took a deep breath—“that I really like the idea of having a study partner, but I'd like it if it was someone else.”
“Okay,” said Grandpa Murray. “So what do you want to practice on me?”
“That was it.”
“What was it?”
“What I just said. I really like the idea of having a study partner, but I'd like it if it was someone else.”
“Okay,” said Grandpa Murray. “So what are you going to do about it?”
“Talk to Miss Payley tomorrow!” Mark said, laughing.
“And what are you going to say? Go ahead and practice it on me.”
Mark laughed so hard that he fell over. “I said it already!” he said.
“You did? How did I miss it? Say it again. After the part about wanting your study partner to be someone else.”
Mark's stomach hurt from laughing so hard. He wasn't worried about talking to Miss Payley anymore. He thanked Grandpa Murray for his help through his puffs of laughter and left the room. Grandpa Murray, still confused, called after him, “What's so funny? I mean it, practice what you want to say on me!”
Mark walked back to the room holding his stomach. “Forget it, Grandpa,” he said. “Just wish me luck for tomorrow.”
Grandpa Murray shrugged and shook Mark's hand. “Good luck, kid.”
 
Mark tried hard to pay attention in math the next day, but he was so worried about talking to Miss Payley after class that everything else seemed to drift through his head without even pausing in his brain, let alone finding a home there. The other Mark seemed to never put down his hand, as usual, and Mark thought that if he weren't such a jerk, he probably would be a useful person to study with. Sometimes he caught himself thinking about his appeal to Miss Payley instead of his simplifying-fractions practice problems, and then his mind drifted to how he needed to go over this stuff with a study partner later, since he wasn't taking in any of it now. Then he'd pray that that partner wouldn't be Mark Hopper, and the cycle would continue.
When class ended, Mark told Jonathan to save him a seat in the cafeteria and dawdled at his desk, waiting for everyone to leave so he could talk to Miss Payley in private. But one person was also dawdling, and that was the other Mark Hopper. Mark's eyes widened at his bad luck.
“Aren't you going to lunch now?” Mark hissed at Mark.
“I wanted to speak to Miss Payley about something first,” Mark replied quietly.
“Well, hurry up, then,” Mark said. “I'm waiting to speak to her, too.” He was clutching a piece of loose-leaf paper: his lists.
“You can go first,” Mark offered.
Mark didn't want Mark there when he gave his lists to Miss Payley, but he could not pass up a chance to be first at anything, so he said, “Suit yourself. Miss Payley, may I please speak with you for a minute?”
Miss Payley looked up and smiled. “Sorry, Mark. And Mark. I don't have time to talk to you boys right now.”
“But this will be quick,” Mark protested.
Miss Payley shook her head and said she'd speak to them after school when they arrived for their study session, before rushing out the door.
One Mark sighed and the other growled a bit. Neither wanted to wait until after school because that meant being there with the other after school; being there together right now was bad enough. But neither had a choice.
 
After school, Miss Payley waited until both Marks had arrived to say she was ready to listen.
The Mark with the list presented it to her. “I wanted to tell you that even though I really want Mark to do well in math, I just don't have time to be Mark's study partner. Here, I made a list of reasons. And of some other possible solutions to the problem.”
The other Mark felt his eyes widen at his luck. “I understand!” he volunteered. “I am fine with having a different study partner.”
The first Mark looked at him with a crooked grin. He couldn't believe they had something in common.
Miss Payley skimmed Mark's list and handed it back. “I appreciate your point of view,” she said, “but as I said yesterday, I think you two will work wonderfully together. And that's that.”
“But—”
“Mark—”
“But really, I—”
“Mark. Thank you both for showing up. I am going to do some of my work in the teachers' lounge down the hall, but I will be back to check on you. There is nothing to frown about, Mark—or to bare your teeth at me for, Mark. You two sit down and work on simplifying fractions—together. Or you will both receive a zero for class participation.”
One Mark's shoulders sank in disappointment while the other's flew up in rage. But Miss Payley walked out of the room, leaving them with no one to turn to but each other.
“This is so unfair,” Mark growled.
“I know,” Mark agreed.
“I don't know why Miss Payley even thinks I can help you. You're hopeless.”
“I don't think that's true,” Mark whispered. “I'm just having a hard time adjusting.”
Mark let out a snide laugh. “Yeah. Okay.”
The two boys stared at each other with pure disdain. Finally, Mark sighed and sat down and took out his binder. He wanted to start the math homework, but he quickly realized that he had didn't really have any clue as to how to simplify fractions. He stared at the first problem with his eyes shaped like large zeroes.
“What are you doing?” Mark demanded.
“The homework,” Mark said. “Since we have to be here anyway.”
“But you're just staring at it.”
“I'm taking my time.”
“Oh, boy, you really are dumb,” Mark said. He was looking over Mark's shoulder. “The first one is so easy a two-day-old baby could do it.”
“Then how do you do it?” Mark said earnestly. He thought maybe he could trick the other Mark into being of some help.
“You just—” Mark started. Then he stopped himself and crossed his arms. “Look it up,” he said.
Miss Payley poked her head in the doorway and saw Mark sitting with his homework out and the other Mark over his shoulder. “Looking good, boys,” she said before leaving again.
Mark stared at his blank homework. He started to doodle in the corner of the page. “And you think you're good at everything,” he said under his breath.
“What was that?” fired Mark.
Mark took a deep breath. “You think you're good at everything, but you're not very good at helping people,” he said. He continued to draw. The sketch was of a cartoon figure staring at a piece of paper with numbers and question marks floating around his head.
Mark watched the figure take shape on Mark's page. His face grew red. “I am
great
at helping people. I am the best helper in the whole world. I just don't want to help you.”
“Why not?” Mark asked.
Mark was taken aback. “Because,” he said. “You're hopeless. You're ruining the name Mark Geoffrey Hopper.”

I'm
ruining it?” Mark said, his eyes wide. He laughed a little. “Sorry,” he said, covering his mouth. But he couldn't help it. He laughed some more.
“What are you laughing about?”
Mark tried to answer. And to stop laughing. But he couldn't. He sketched another figure on his paper. It had a large scowl and pointy, down-turned eyebrows. Since he was laughing so hard that his body was shaking, the figure's hair came out squig gly and unkempt.
Mark wanted to tear up Mark's paper. He did not look like that—his hair was neatly gelled! He also wanted to tear it up because it wasn't fair that Mark could draw something that good in such a short amount of time.
Miss Payley peeked back in. Her eyebrows were raised. “Looks like you are having a fun time,” she said.
Both Marks snorted, though only one meant to.
“You are free to go whenever you're ready,” Miss Payley continued. “But how about you have a second session on Wednesday at the same time? That way you two can prepare for Thursday's quiz together.” Neither responded, and Miss Payley said, “Yes? Perfect!”
After Miss Payley left again, Mark finally stopped laughing. He put down his pencil. “Do you want to help me with tonight's homework?” he asked. “I really don't know how to simplify fractions.”
The other Mark sneered. “Yeah. Because I really want to help someone who laughed at me for ten minutes and drew a mean picture of me.”
“But we don't have a choice,” Mark said, not denying that the drawing was of Mark. “Why don't we just make the best of it?”
Mark actually considered it for a moment. But why should he give away all of his knowledge, especially to someone who was too shy to even speak to a teacher? He did all of his homework without any help; why should the other Mark Hopper have an unfair advantage? He already had an unfair advantage when it came to art. He watched Mark finish up his little sketch and sign his initials at the bottom of it—
MGH
in loopy, childlike script. Mark's brain switched into overdrive. Thinking at ten miles a minute and only pausing to give the other Mark a what-a-pity-you're-hopeless-at-math look, Mark put on his backpack, tightened the straps, and stomped out the door.
Chapter
14
Mark Proves Himself Useful
“Hey, neighbor.” Jasmina tapped Mark on the shoulder at his locker.
“What?” said Mark. He continued to organize his PRIVATE AND NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS binders on his locker shelves. It would have weakened the effect of his storming out of school last week if he had stopped to organize his locker, so he still had some morning binders on the afternoon shelves. Since he prided himself on neatness (and got a blue ribbon for most organized desk in third grade), he couldn't stand it.
“I'll wait,” said Jasmina. She chewed on the tip of one of her braids.
Mark sorted his binders more slowly.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “I want to talk to you. Can't you just look up or something?”
“It is rude to rush someone.”
“You're one to talk about being rude,” Jasmina scoffed. “That's what I want to talk to you about. The other Mark told me you refused to help him with math. What is wrong with you?”
“What do you mean?” Mark asked innocently. All of his books were on their proper shelves, but he didn't stand up or turn around.
“He's a nice guy,” Jasmina said. “Everybody likes him. And he's a
really
good artist. What do you have against him?”
“If you think he's so nice and talented, why don't
you
teach him math?”
“I would,” Jasmina said, “but Miss Payley won't let me. I asked.”
Mark stayed down so Jasmina wouldn't see how taken aback he was. Jasmina was
his
friend, and even though he hated him, Mark was
his
problem. “What, do you
like
him?” he sang. “Oooh.”
“I like him a lot more than I like you right now,” Jasmina countered.
Mark stood up and whirled around. “You can't possibly. We've been friends since preschool,” he said. “He just moved in. You don't even know him.”
“Neither do you,” Jasmina said. She crossed her arms. Having been friends with Mark since preschool, she knew two things about winning an argument with him: (1) Don't bother trying, but (2) If you do bother trying, make him think he's won. She decided to go for the second one. “Look,” she said. “You're really smart, and a really good person, so he clearly looks up to you,” she lied.
Mark puffed out his chest a bit. “Duh,” he said.
BOOK: The Trouble with Mark Hopper
13.57Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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