Maxie, Rosie, and Earl-Partners in Grime

by Barbara Park

  Earl felt a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. What if his class was still reading out loud? What if—just to punish him even more—Mrs. Mota asked him to try one more time?

  His nerves made his bathroom problem even worse. He bounced up and down. “Do you guys think I’ll get in trouble for going to the boys’ room without permission?”

  “Permission from who?” asked Maxie. “No one’s even in charge of you right now. Your teacher thinks you’re still in the principal’s office. And the principal thinks you’re back in your—”

  Suddenly, Maxie stopped talking, and his eyes opened wide in amazement.

  “Class,” he heard himself say. “The principal thinks all of us are back in class.”

  Earl bounced faster. “Yeah? So?”

  “So don’t you get it?” he asked. “Everyone thinks that we’re someplace else. No one is looking for us. It means we could …”

  He looked all around, then lowered his voice to a whisper.

  “… leave school.”

  Kids love Barbara Park’s books so much, they’ve given them all these awards:

  Alabama’s Emphasis on Reading

  Arizona Young Readers’ Award

  Charlotte Award (New York State)

  Dorothy Canfield Fisher Children’s Book Award (Vermont)

  Flicker Tale Children’s Book Award (North Dakota)

  Georgia Children’s Book Award

  Golden Archer Award (Wisconsin)

  Great Stone Face Award (New Hampshire)

  Iowa Children’s Choice Award

  IRA-CBC Children’s Choice

  IRA Young Adults’ Choice

  Junior Book Award (South Carolina)

  Library of Congress Book of the Year

  Maud Hart Lovelace Award (Minnesota)

  Milner Award (Georgia)

  Nevada Young Readers’ Award

  North Dakota Children’s Choice Award

  Nutmeg Children’s Book Award (Connecticut)

  OMAR Award (Indiana)

  Parents’ Choice Award

  Rebecca Caudill Young Readers’ Book Award (Illinois)

  Rhode Island Children’s Book Award

  Sasquatch Reading Award of Washington State

  School Library Journal’s Best Children’s Book of the Year

  Tennessee Children’s Choice Book Award

  Texas Bluebonnet Award

  Utah Children’s Book Award

  West Virginia Honor Book

  William Allen White Children’s Book Award (Kansas)

  Young Hoosier Book Award (Indiana)

  BOOKS BY BARBARA PARK:

  Almost Starring Skinnybones

  Beanpole

  Dear God, Help!!! Love, Earl

  Don’t Make Me Smile

  The Kid in the Red Jacket

  Maxie, Rosie, and Earl—Partners in Grime

  Mick Harte Was Here

  My Mother Got Married (And Other Disasters)

  Operation: Dump the Chump

  Rosie Swanson: Fourth-Grade Geek for President

  Skinnybones

  A RANDOM HOUSE BOOK

  Text copyright © 1990 by Barbara Park

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Distributed by Random House, Inc., New York. Originally published in hardcover as a Borzoi Book by Alfred A. Knopf in 1990.

  www.randomhouse.com/kids

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 89-28027

  eISBN: 978-0-307-79708-7

  RL: 4.8

  RANDOM HOUSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  v3.1

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  1. Earl

  2. Rosie

  3. Maxie

  4. Not Fair, Not Fair, Not Fair!

  5. Grime City

  6. Zuckerman Number Ten

  7. Excuses, Excuses

  8. Coming In for a Landing

  9. Thumbs Up

  Maxie’s Words

  About the Author

  1 EARL

  Earl Wilber sat at his desk and doodled on the back of his reading workbook. The class was reading a social studies assignment out loud, but Earl wasn’t sure what it was about. His doodle was taking all of his concentration. He was drawing a cartoon of a monster’s foot crushing his new school.

  Fifth grade wasn’t fun. Not when you were a new kid. Not when you had no friends.

  Earl had hated Dooley Elementary from the very beginning. As he walked across the playground on the first day of school, two girls ran by and called him Plumpy.

  You big stupids! thought Earl. He didn’t say it out loud, though. Earl was only brave in his head.

  He had never made friends easily. Not only was he shy, but new situations made him tense and sweaty. And whenever Earl was tense and sweaty, he almost always did something dumb. Like when it was his turn to stand at his desk and introduce himself to his new classmates, he had clicked his heels and saluted like a soldier. He still didn’t know why.

  “You’re trying too hard,” his mother had told him when she drove him to school the next morning. Then she handed him a Kleenex to wipe the sweat from his top lip.

  “Just be yourself, Earl. If you just relax and settle down, you’ll have new friends in no time.”

  But, of course, Earl knew that wasn’t true. Friends didn’t flock around you just because you were all limp and relaxed. And besides, trying to act limp and relaxed made Earl tense.

  It’s not like he hadn’t tried to make friends. Last Tuesday at lunch, he had tapped Anthony Jabbort on the arm and offered him half of his cream-filled cupcake. But Anthony had just wrinkled up his nose and said, “Gross. You’ve had your mouth all over it.”

  Things didn’t get any better that day, either. Later that same afternoon, Mrs. Mota had asked Earl to read out loud in front of the entire class. They had been reading a story about a boy and his sailboat. Earl had been following along when suddenly he heard his name called.

  “Earl Wilber? Would you read the next paragraph for us, please?”

  Shocked, he looked up. What was she calling on him for? He hadn’t raised his hand, had he?

  “Earl?” said Mrs. Mota again. “We’re waiting.”

  Earl’s heart started pounding like crazy. He was terrible at reading out loud. He always got tongue-tied. Always.

  Nervously, he glanced down at the sentence.

  With a gust of wind at his back, little John sailed, himself.

  Okay. It didn’t seem that hard, really. It was simple, in fact. Maybe if he took a couple of deep breaths, he could get through it.

  He wiped the moisture off his forehead and began.

  “ ‘With a gust of wind at his back … little John soiled himself.’ ”

  The classroom exploded with laughter. Even Mrs. Mota couldn’t keep the corners of her mouth from turning up.

  “Sailed!” he yelled quickly. “I mean little John sailed, himself!”

  But the laughter was too loud for anyone to hear. And Earl Wilber had wanted to die.

  From that moment on, he decided he would never read out loud again. Which is why, on this particular day, as the class was reading a social studies assignment, Earl was drawing a monster’s foot stepping on the school.

  “Earl?”

  Oh no. No way. It couldn’t be. Not again.

  As he raised his head, Mrs. Mota was smiling directly at him. “Could you take a turn reading, pleas
e, Earl?” she asked.

  He couldn’t believe it! Why did she keep doing this to him? What had he ever done to make her hate him so much?

  The silence in the room was deadly. Earl’s collar felt tight around his neck. He stretched it out so he could breathe.

  “Page twenty-two, paragraph three,” the teacher said.

  Earl tried to look at his book, but the memory of what had happened the last time was still too fresh in his mind.

  “We’re waiting, Earl,” Mrs. Mota told him. “I’d really appreciate it if you would just give it a try again. I know you can do it.”

  Earl shook his head no. He hadn’t really planned on shaking his head no. It was just sort of happening on its own.

  Mrs. Mota raised her eyebrows.

  “Excuse me, Earl?” she said. “Are you saying you won’t read? Are you telling me no?”

  This time, Earl’s head bobbed yes. It’s like it was on automatic pilot or something.

  The next thing he knew, Mrs. Mota was out of her chair and walking toward him. As Earl watched her coming, a little whimper escaped from his throat.

  Go back! Please! he wanted to holler. I’ll read! I’ll read! But even though he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out.

  A second later, Mrs. Mota was standing over him, glaring down at his doodle. She tapped her foot.

  Panicking, Earl picked up the paper and shoved it into her hands. “Here,” he blurted stupidly. “I made this for you.”

  Mrs. Mota helped him out of his chair. “I’m sorry, Earl, but I think you’d better come with me.”

  She held him by the hand and led him out the door. His palm was so sweaty, it slipped from her grasp.

  “I don’t know what it was like at your last school, Earl,” she said, “but at Dooley Elementary, we don’t tell the teacher no. Maybe you’ll understand our rules better if Mr. Shivers explains them to you in person.”

  That’s when it finally hit him. Earl didn’t know why it had taken him so long. But it wasn’t until that exact second that he realized Mrs. Mota was taking him to the principal’s office!

  Frantically, he grabbed hold of her sweater. “No! Please! I can’t go there! My mother will kill me!”

  But Mrs. Mota kept right on walking.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” said Earl. “I changed my mind! I’ll read now! I’ll read!”

  They passed a poster hanging on the wall. “COME TO THE ICE CREAM SOCIAL!” he read as loudly as he could. “Look, see? I’m reading!”

  Mrs. Mota’s expression softened a little. “I’m sorry, Earl. Really, I am. But I honestly think Mr. Shivers can help you with your attitude.”

  With each step toward the office, Earl’s legs got weaker. His skin felt hot and cold at the same time.

  He fanned himself. “I think I might be having a heart attack,” he said. But Mrs. Mota paid no attention.

  When they got to the office, she opened the door and led Earl inside. The secretary, Mrs. Trumbull, looked at Earl like he was a criminal.

  He fanned himself some more. “Could you call an ambulance, do you think?” he asked her.

  Mrs. Trumbull pointed to a yellow plastic chair on the other side of the counter and told him to take a seat.

  Earl walked to the corner and slumped down in the chair.

  “Mr. Shivers is very busy right now,” Mrs. Trumbull told his teacher. “It could be quite a while before he’s able to talk to your boy over there.”

  “That’s okay,” said Mrs. Mota. “I don’t think it will hurt Earl to sit there for a while. He’s got plenty to think about.”

  Mrs. Trumbull craned her neck to see him. “Do you ride the bus, young man?”

  Earl shook his head no.

  “Good. Then there’s no problem,” she told Mrs. Mota. “If Mr. Shivers can’t see him till the end of school, we’ll just dismiss him from here.”

  “That’ll be just fine,” said Mrs. Mota.

  She glanced at Earl one last time and left the office.

  The principal’s door was closed. A small sign hung on the doorknob. It said: THE PRINCIPAL IS YOUR PAL.

  Earl squeezed his eyes shut. He sat there like that for a very long time, it seemed. Then, all of a sudden, the door opened and Mr. Shivers rushed into the room. He was tall and bald and wore a bright green suit.

  Earl gulped. What kind of man would buy a suit like that? A weird man … a dangerous man.

  Earl trembled. An insane man.

  Mr. Shivers and the secretary whispered back and forth a minute. Then Mr. Shivers sighed tiredly and looked over at him.

  “Mr. Wilber? You want to step into my office a minute?” he said. “I’m very short of time, but I’ll try to squeeze you in.”

  Earl thought he should reply, but the spit in his mouth had dried up and his lips were stuck together.

  When he went inside the office, Mr. Shivers offered him a seat.

  As Earl sat down, he felt his top lip start to quiver. He tried to get it to stop, but he couldn’t. It was a lip out of control.

  “My secretary told me that Mrs. Mota brought you down to talk to me,” said Mr. Shivers. “Is that correct?”

  Earl covered his quivering lip with his hand and opened his fingers slightly. “Is it warm in here to you?” he asked quietly.

  Mr. Shivers sat down. “Tell me why you’re here, son,” he said.

  Earl wanted to cooperate, but he just couldn’t think straight. It was as if his brain had completely shut down.

  “Why am I here? Why am I here?” he repeated stupidly to himself.

  Then, for no reason at all, he let out a giggle. He’d heard of people cracking up in times of stress, and now it was happening to him. Nothing was funny. Nothing at all. But Earl giggled again and again.

  Stop it! his brain ordered him. This isn’t funny! Now shut up and tell Mr. Shivers what happened before it’s too late.

  He took a shaky breath. “Well, um, let’s see … the class was reading a social studies page out loud … and, well, I didn’t actually want to get called on today … so I guess maybe I was … doodling.”

  Doodling. As soon as the word was out of his mouth, Earl Wilber started to laugh. Doodle. Had it always been that funny? Doodle, doodle, doodle!

  Earl tried to get control of himself, but it was no use. He finally collapsed in a wild fit of hysterics. It was the sloppy kind of laughing, too, the kind with lots of nose snorts and pig snuffles. He tried muffling his mouth with both hands, but the noises exploded through all ten of his fingers—which made him laugh even louder.

  Earl pulled his shirt up over his face so the principal couldn’t see the tears running down his cheeks.

  Mr. Shivers stared at Earl’s stomach and waited for him to quiet down. It seemed to take forever before the boy’s hysterics began to taper off.

  “Hah, hah, hah, hah … hee, hee … hah … heh, heh, heh … aaahhhh.”

  “Finished?” Mr. Shivers asked him at last.

  Earl took a deep breath and nodded his head.

  “Good,” said the principal. “Then why don’t you go back outside for a few minutes. We’ll talk again when you’re completely settled.”

  Earl dabbed his eyes with his shirt one last time and pulled it back down where it belonged. Shakily, he stood up and hurried out the door past Mr. Shivers.

  As he scrambled back into the yellow plastic chair in the waiting room, the secretary peered at him over her typewriter.

  Feeling sicker than ever, Earl Wilber slumped down and out of view.

  2 ROSIE

  Earlier that morning, Rosie Swanson’s class had been taking their weekly spelling test. After listening carefully to each word, Rosie would print it neatly on her paper, then quickly spread her arms across the answers, so no one else could see.

  Even though nobody sat directly next to Rosie, Judith Topper sat in front of her. And with Judith Topper around, there was always a chance of cheating.

  Judith was the worst speller in the room. She was always
the first one to sit down during a spelling bee. Once, just to be nice, Mr. Jolly had asked her to spell the word a. Judith spelled it “e.” On the way to her seat, she said she thought it had been a trick question.

  In the front of the room, Mr. Jolly smiled. “Urgent,” he said, loud and clear. “The last spelling word today is urgent.”

  Rosie pushed her red-framed glasses back up on her nose and ran her fingers through her wispy blond hair. Her bangs were too long, but she liked them that way. When your bangs were too long, you could look at people through your hair and they never knew they were being watched.

  When Rosie was sure that the coast was clear, she uncovered her test paper and printed URGENT in space number ten. She smiled. Another 100 percent, she thought proudly as she turned the paper facedown on her desk.

  In front of her, Judith Topper began to squirm in her chair. A second later, she dropped her pencil on the floor and leaned down to pick it up. As soon as she was out of the teacher’s view, Judith strained her neck to look at the paper of the girl in front of her.

  After she saw the word she needed, Judith sat back up and printed it on her test.

  Rosie was infuriated. Nothing made her angrier than cheating. It just wasn’t fair! Why should she spend her time studying for these stupid spelling tests when cheaters like Judith ended up with the exact same grade?

  Rosie cupped her hands around her mouth. “I sawwww youuuu, Judith,” she whispered in the cheater’s ear.

  But instead of erasing the word she’d stolen, Judith turned halfway around in her chair and called Rosie a not-so-nice name.

  Okay, fine. That did it. Rosie pulled out the little yellow notepad she kept hidden in her desk and printed clearly:

  Dear Mr. J.

  Judith T. cheated on her spelling test again this week.

  Sincerely yours,

  R.S.

  Rosie folded the note as small as she could and pressed it into the palm of her hand. After that, she grabbed a pencil and headed for the pencil sharpener. As she passed Mr. Jolly’s desk, she dropped the note into his center drawer.

  Rosie smiled to herself. She was good at this tattletale business. She really was.