Summer School! What Genius Thought That Up? Read Free

Explorers—swimming and running and jumping and making lanyards to hold their apartment keys around their necks.
    â€œYour mom was up very late last night, cleaning up from ‘Beat the Heat with Deli Meat’ evening,” my dad said. “I’m letting her sleep in, so I made breakfast for you. How’s that for being a good dad?”
    â€œWhat kind of good dad would make his only beloved son go to summer school?”
    I was hoping he’d feel guilty and tell me I didn’t have to go. It didn’t work. Not even close. Instead, I got the “Be Positive” lecture.
    â€œHank, you need to be positive about things. Why don’t you try looking at your cup as half full?”
    â€œDad, I’m looking in my cup, and at this moment, I can’t see any liquid whatsoever.”
    My dad pulled the covers off me and gestured toward the bathroom. I had no choice now but to get up, walk into the bathroom, and wash Mr. Sandman out of my eyes. I heard my dad’s leather slippers flip-flopping on the floor, following me into the bathroom. I knew he had more lecture on the tip of his tongue, and sure enough, he waited until I was brushing my teeth so I wouldn’t be able to answer.
    â€œMaybe summer school will be a positive and fulfilling experience for you,” he said.
    I almost swallowed my toothbrush. With my mouth so full of toothpaste foam and bristles, all I could do was make a sound that sounded like youf fot to fee fridding .
    â€œNo, I’m not kidding,” my dad answered.
    That was weird. How did he know what I had said? I wonder if parents take a class in understanding their kids when their mouths are full of toothpaste.
    â€œTo be perfectly truthful, Hank, fourth grade was really hard for you,” he went on. “I believe going to school this summer might give you a leg up on the fifth grade.”
    I was finished brushing my teeth, so I was all clear to say everything I wanted to say.
    â€œBut, Dad, summers were invented for kids to kick back and relax. To journey into uncharted territories of new fun.”
    Wow, where’d I pull that out from? Even I was impressed.
    â€œYou’ll have plenty of time to relax,” my dad said, obviously not as impressed with me as I was. “We’re going to the Jersey Shore for a week.”
    â€œThat’s not until the end of August.”
    â€œWell, after school, I’ll pick you up and we’ll play exciting games of Scrabble Junior,” my dad said, looking like he had just had the brainstorm of the year.
    â€œWe’ve tried that already, Dad. Remember? I can’t spell.”
    â€œAnd there you have the reason for summer school.”
    Point. Set. Match. Face it, Hank. You lost this argument, hands down.
    I couldn’t think of another thing to say, so I just stormed off to the kitchen to eat my breakfast.
    Wouldn’t you know it, it was alphabet cereal.

CHAPTER 4
    â€œALOHA, CAMPERS and students alike!” Principal Leland Love was inside the main door of PS 87, all five-feet-four inches of him, wearing a Hawaiian shirt that was so big I could have used it as a tent for an overnight in the woods.
    â€œCheck out his outfit,” Frankie whispered to me as we walked inside the school lobby. “Great shirt, if you’re a dancing elephant.”
    â€œI just read in Teens in the Know that people express themselves with their clothes,” Ashley said. “Obviously, he’s trying to tell us something.”
    â€œThat there’s a short Hawaiian wrestler inside him, dying to get out,” Frankie said.
    â€œLet’s hope he doesn’t succeed,” Ashley answered, and we all cracked up together.
    Principal Love saw us laughing, but he was clueless, as usual. He never suspects when we’re laughing at him.
    â€œAh, laughing faces of children always make my heart burst into song,” he said, slapping me on the shoulder as I tried to sneak