My Homework Ate My Homework by Patrick Jennings

Author:Patrick Jennings [Jennings, Patrick]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-60684-288-1
Publisher: EgmontUSA
Published: 2013-04-23T04:00:00+00:00

We follow Josh and Hannah to the cafeteria. The tables are all folded up and rolled away. Some of the boys in my class take advantage of all the space and start racing around, acting like apes, as boys often do.

Josh steps up onto the stage, which is only about a foot off the floor, and says in a commanding voice, “Attention, company!”

Good projection. He must be an actor. I like that he calls us “company.” Very professional.

“I need everyone’s attention and concentration at all times. If I do not have your attention and concentration at all times, I will send you back to your classroom.”

The ape-boys deflate like leaky balloons.

“And remember: always walk when you are in this room, unless you are onstage, of course, and I tell you to do otherwise. Anyone who runs will be sent back to the classroom. Understood?”

Everyone nods.

“When I say ‘Understood?’ I want you to answer, ‘Understood!’ Understood?”

“Understood!” we all say.

“Good. Now when I say ‘Action,’ I want you all to stand up and walk to the back of the room. I want you to walk as if you are crossing deep, wet sand. Your feet should sink in with each step. Show me how well you can pretend. Ready? Action!”

I glance around and see some of the kids walking like they have glue on their feet. Wrong. Or they drag their feet, like zombies. Also wrong. I’ll show them how it’s done.

I take a step and imagine my foot being sucked into the sand, then salt water pouring on top of it. I pretend to lose my balance as I try to tug my foot free. I wobble. I almost believe this is really happening, right there on the hard floor of the cafeteria.

This is what school is supposed to be like!

I look up, waiting for Josh to single me out, but he’s not looking at me. He’s whispering to Hannah, who is writing in a spiral notebook.

This is part of the audition!

Because I’ve done such a realistic job of walking in deep, wet sand, everyone else is way ahead of me, so I start walking fast—not running—in deep, wet sand. I move in a squat, like those guys who danced with bottles on their heads in the musical Fiddler on the Roof.

“Are you a crab on the beach, Ferret Girl!” Josh howls, which gets a big laugh. The whole cafeteria is filled with echoing meanness.

“Okay, now everybody turn around and come back,” Josh says, “only now you’re walking on scalding hot desert sand. Emphasis on walking. Action!”

Everybody starts hopping on their toes across the floor, saying, “Oooh! Oooh! Hot! Hot!”

“Do we have shoes on or are we barefoot?” I yell, because I want to get this right, but I can’t be heard over all the faux yelping. So I scream louder, “DO WE HAVE SHOES ON OR ARE WE BAREFOOT?”

“Please do not shout, Ferret Girl,” Josh says in his commanding voice.

Everyone freezes.

“That goes for everyone. If you have a question, raise your hand.

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