by H. N. Kowitt
Seeing their eager faces gave me new hope. How could Luke tank with every girl at school dying to help him succeed?
“Du-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-ude!”
“Bulls pulled it out last night.”
“Who stole my comb?”
I stood in the locker room after school, waiting for Luke. He hadn’t returned my last three calls, so I went looking for him. The room was packed with jocks changing clothes, slamming lockers, and arguing about whether the Bulls would get pounded by the Celtics.
“Get lost, Polshek,” a blond guy said. “Bulls are toast.”
SNAP!
Polshek whipped a towel at the barrel-chested blond guy. Suddenly, the room turned into a battleground of snapping towels. I jumped out of the way. Where was Luke?
“Danny!?” I turned around, and there was Luke, pulling a T-shirt over his head. “What are you doing here?”
Towel-snapping came to a halt, and the guys looked up at me.
“Could we go somewhere, uh, private?” I asked Luke.
Luke motioned for me to follow. “Over here,” he said, pointing to an empty bench.
“Where have you been?” I asked. Then I took a deep breath. “Everyone’s counting on your speech. This is a big deal, Luke. You can’t just be good — you’ve got to hit it out of the park.”
“I’m not doing it.”
My jaw dropped. “WHAT?”
“Not. Doing. It.”
“But …!” I’d had a whole “You need to focus” pitch prepared. “Wh-what do you mean?”
He kicked the bench. “The speech reeks.”
“No,” I said. “No, no, no, no. You can’t blow this off, Luke. We’re in this together! I’ll get blamed! People are counting on you to change the principal’s mind!”
“Sorry.” He looked at the floor.
“Listen, Luke,” I begged. “I’ve got tons of ideas. We can make it into a show, with cool PowerPoint graphs and photos. Every girl in school is dying to help.”
Luke looked suspicious. “How do you know?”
“I was at a Fashion Club meeting —” I started, but hesitated when Luke gave me a weird look. “Long story.”
Luke sank onto the bench and put his head in his hands.
“You don’t understand,” he said. His face was sweating. “Kulbarsh gives me the creeps. I can’t stand up there in front of him and everyone else.”
Dr. Kulbarsh was intimidating. His bald head and unsmiling face made him look like an executioner.
He disapproved of everything — baggy pants, cell phones, kids in general. He rarely spoke except to say things like, “‘Humongous’ is not a real word.”
“It’s okay,” I said, trying to reassure both of us. “You’ve just got a little stage fright. We’ll fix that.”
“No, we won’t!” Luke said fiercely. “Every time I think about giving a speech in public, I want to barf. We’re not going to fix that!” He stared at the floor.
I didn’t know what to say. The coolest graphics in the world wouldn’t help if Luke couldn’t speak in public. The whole thing was going down in flames. Then I remembered something Ralph once told me. Maybe — maybe! — Luke would go for it.
“I think I have a cure for you,” I said quietly.
Luke’s eyes narrowed. “You do?”
“Yup,” I said, with fake confidence. I had to work fast. I sat down and pulled out my notebook. I sketched furiously for a minute or so, then handed him a drawing.
Luke picked it up and burst out laughing. “What the —?”
“You know Ralph, the janitor?” I said. “Well, he’s an actor too. Whenever he’s nervous onstage? He pictures the audience in their underwear.”
“That’s good,” admitted Luke.
“Kulbarsh is human,” I said. “He burps and farts like everyone else.”
“Draw him farting,” Luke commanded.
I flipped to a new page in my sketchbook and started drawing again. Luke’s eyes followed my hand.
“How do you do that?” he said.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “How do you hit a fastball?”
He shrugged too. A couple of jocks passed by, and Luke and I were silent until they were gone.
“Besides,” I said. I was scared to bring up the subject again, but … “If you don’t do the speech, Wagman’ll flunk you.”
Luke shrugged. “Yeah, so? School isn’t my thing. I never remember facts, like who invented cars or where Portugal is. My brain’s too crowded.”
I tried to imagine.
“In fact, I’d HATE school,” Luke went on, “if it wasn’t for sports. Baseball gives me a way to stand out. If I didn’t have that …” Luke shook his head. “I’d feel like a loser.”
“A loser?” I couldn’t believe it.
“Sometimes, baseball’s the only thing that keeps me going,” Luke said darkly.
This was good stuff, I realized. “That’s what you should put in your speech, Luke.” My voice rose. “Make it personal!”
Luke’s face brightened for a half second … then clouded over again. “I don’t know.”
An eighth-grade soccer player passed by and saw Luke. “Hey, man. Good luck with that speech. If anyone can convince ’im, you can.”
I didn’t look at Luke, but waited for the comment to sink in. We both sat there a minute, until finally Luke picked a sock and some gym shorts off the bench. It took me a second to realize he was clearing a workspace.
“Crud.” He sighed. “I can’t fight everyone. I’ll try to do the stupid speech. But I’m not promising anything.”
YES!
Suddenly, my head felt a thousand times lighter. Another crisis averted — kind of. But keeping Luke on track wasn’t going to be easy; I was running through my bag of tricks. He shoved aside some dirty towels, and we got started.
In the auditorium, a sea of parents, teachers, and students stared down at Pinky Shroeder. Behind the giant podium, Pinky looked even shorter than he was. You could tell he was overwhelmed.
“And that’s why violent video games should be banned.” Pinky’s voice shook. “Except for Ninja Gangsta Bloodbath III and Overturned Tractor Trailer. They’re okay. Oh, and Alien Attack Zone. And Executioner’s Blade.”
Pinky mopped his face with a tissue, as the principal sat stone-faced in his chair onstage. As usual, his face was totally unreadable.
* THE MANY MOODS OF PRINCIPAL KULBARSH
“Thank you, Pinky,” said Mrs. Wagman, guiding him offstage. She took the mic and looked at her clipboard. “Next up — Luke Strohmer.”
A few cheers, whistles, and woo-woos as Luke got up from his seat.
My stomach rumbled as I watched Luke walk down the aisle. He had a smile on his face, but I could see his clenched jaw and sweating forehead. There was a loud thump and a buzzing noise as he adjusted the mic. He looked at the crowd. “Um, hey, guys,” he said.
In the hand that wasn’t holding his speech, he picked up the clicker to control his PowerPoint presentation. He pressed a button, and the projection screen behind him showed a giant photo of the baseball team hugging and celebrating.
People cheered. Kulbarsh studied the ceiling.
Luke waited for the noise to die down and then cleared his throat. “‘Why Gerald Ford —”
He stopped. There was a long pause.
C’mon, Luke, I thought. You can do it.
“‘Why Gerald Ford Needs After-School Sports,’” he said quietly.
“Speak into the mic!” called Jasper. Luke peered into the gloom, then started over.
“Sports and Gerald Ford go together like a hot dog and —” Luke stopped again, looking panicked.
“Mustard!” someone shouted, and people giggled.
Luke looked up, surprised. He clutched his piece of paper. “We need sports for a lot of reasons — not just ’cause the uniforms look cool.” A few people laughed, and he stood up straighter. “Sports make us better students and,” he mumbled, “better people.”
Yeah, I thought. Keep going!
“I found out —” Luke looked up to the ceiling and sighed. Then he seemed to decide something. He looked out at the audience. “I found out a lot when I was working on this speech,” he said. “Like how studies show that sports improve your concentration. It actually makes you a better student. I’m serious.” He clicked through some charts and graphs.
“Sports also improve self-esteem. There’s a lot of research,” Luke said, clicking to another chart. “Plus, I can vouch for it myself. I was never the world’s best student.” Luke gave a guilty shrug. “But baseball makes me look forward to school. Getting a hit makes me feel like I’m good at something. It’s huge.”
Luke’s words were flowing more easily now. I was glad he’d made his speech more personal. Maybe this’ll be okay after all, I thought. The crowd seemed with him, but it was hard to tell Luke’s effect on Kulbarsh. The principal just stared, his mouth an unbroken line.
“Being on a team is a crazy amount of work.” Luke clicked to a photo of the soccer team. “But it’s worth it. The guys are like your brothers. You go through things together.” He shook his head. “Like this spring, when we lost All-City.”
The audience got very quiet.
My head snapped up; now Luke was really going off-script. He even put down his piece of paper. “After — you know — what happened,” he went on, “I felt awful. Like I’d dragged the team down. To get our hopes up and then blow the game … it just about killed me.
“It was like” — Luke’s voice broke — “seeing joy slip out of your hands.”
Even though I hated being reminded of the Incident, I could hear the truth in Luke’s voice.
“But …” Luke blinked. “I lived through it, right? I’m sure it was some kind of great learning experience or whatever.”
Kulbarsh just stared.
“Anyway.” Sounding more confident, Luke picked up his speech again. “Here’s a graph that shows how sports improve your —” He clicked again.
Everyone gasped. I looked up and saw the screen.
My drawing.
HOLY CRUD!
“Oh, man!” Luke said. He clicked furiously, but the image didn’t budge.
I looked back at Kulbarsh. The tips of his ears were beet red, and his nostrils were twitching furiously.
Nobody moved a muscle. The auditorium was silent.
Luke frantically clicked again. Nothing happened. NOOOOOOO! My drawing of the undressed principal was still up there on the screen, ten feet wide.
“HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!”
The audience exploded with laughter, like water bursting through a dam. People clutched their stomachs, rocked back and forth, pointed, gasped, sputtered, and howled.
I felt deeply sick to my stomach. How had those drawings gotten into the PowerPoint show?
It was THE ULTIMATE JINX!
Crud! Crud! Crud!
Kulbarsh stood up. His face had finally shifted — but not in a good way. I could barely look at his narrowed eyes and red face. I’d never seen him so angry. I buried my face in my hands.
“Mr. Strohmer.” The crowd hushed to hear Kulbarsh’s reaction. “To say you are in deep trouble is an understatement.”
Luke was so stunned, he stopped fumbling with the clicker.
Kulbarsh continued. “You have disgraced the entire student body. From now on, we will no longer allow students to address the principal. You have single-handedly …” He glanced back at the screen. “FOR GOD’S SAKE, WILL YOU TAKE DOWN THAT DISGUSTING DRAWING?”
“I can’t,” Luke’s voice was strangled. “The computer—froze.”
Jasper ran up to the stage to help Luke, clicking on the mouse.
Kulbarsh smoothed his tie, like he was trying to compose himself. “I hope you’re pleased, Mr. Strohmer.”
Luke opened his mouth, but no words came out. CRUD! Now his computer wasn’t the only thing stuck. I sat there, watching helplessly as he tried to choke words out.
“I … ngh … mhph … uh …”
A second later, I was running down the aisle. Faster and faster, I bolted up the steps, picturing how very dead I was going to be.
When I hit the stage, I was out of breath. Pushing Luke aside, I pulled the mic down and turned toward the principal.
“It’s not Luke’s fault. I drew the cartoon,” I announced. “I’m sorry you all had to see that.”
By this time, Jasper had rebooted the laptop. Thank God, I thought. Then he clicked the mouse, and the whole auditorium gasped again.
The farting principal filled the screen.
“Good Lord,” Kulbarsh burst out.
Dr. Kulbarsh glared at me. Luke’s mouth was open. Jasper’s eyes widened. The audience was amazed. I was mortified.
“Excuse me?” Kulbarsh said in an exaggerated way.
“I’m Danny Shine,” I said, nudging Luke farther out of the way. “I was the one who drew the cartoon. Cartoons,” I corrected myself.
“I see.” Kulbarsh waited.
Jasper clicked again and again, finally getting the “farting” pic off the screen. Kulbarsh stared like he was trying to melt me with his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” My words felt hollow. “Really sorry. I just wanted to explain why … I made those drawings and gave them to Luke.”
Luke gave me a puzzled look.
Kulbarsh sat down in his chair and leaned back with an evil chuckle. “This I’d like to hear.”
I’d jumped onstage to take attention off Luke. But now that I had done it, I was stumped. Looking down into the audience, I saw a disbelieving Phil Petrokis, a skeptical Velvet, and a thrilled Chantal.
What could I possibly say to save Luke and salvage his speech?
“Luke showed that cartoon, because …” Think of something — anything! “Because, um …” I bit my lip. “Because … because … sports teach you discipline. And how to deal with losing. And that’s just as important as the Lincoln-Douglas debates and rational numbers and topic sentences.
“It’s what makes some kids feel good about themselves,” I continued. “For me, it’s drawing hairy eyeballs. But everybody’s got to have something. And sports are it for a lot of kids — what they work hard at and feel proud of. ’Cause without that pride or whatever? We’d all feel undressed.”
There was some applause, but then Kulbarsh interrupted.
“Wait a minute.” Kulbarsh frowned. “Where have I seen you before? Aren’t you the one who blocked Luke’s catch at the championships? The one who lost the game?”
Great, I thought. Now Kulbarsh will REALLY hate me.
“Yeah.” I looked at the floor.
“I see.” Kulbarsh lifted his chin, and his eyes got even narrower.
I should just leave now, I thought.
“And yet,” Kulbarsh said slowly, “you’re in favor of MORE sports funding?”
“I hate sports,” I blurted out. “Climbing the rope in gym is torture. I don’t know what a point spread is. And I hated them even more after, uh, what happened. When people got so mad about the game,” I babbled, “it really freaked me out. But it also kind of — impressed me, in a weird way. Because they cared so much about their team. I don’t know if I care that much about anything, except drawing and Rat Girl comics.”
Some people smiled.
“So I hope you won’t cut back after-school sports,” I said to Kulbarsh. Now I was on a roll. “Because people feel REALLY strongly about this stuff — players and fans. Maybe too strongly. But at least they’re excited about something, and there’s way too little of that in life.”
I paused.
“And if a sports-hating comics geek like me feels that way …” I said. “Think how everyone else feels.”
A few people started to applaud, and soon everybody was clapping. Kulbarsh stood up and lifted his chin.
He cleared his throat.
“I’m not happy about that drawing,” Kulbarsh said. “But I am … intrigued to hear a defe
nse of sports from YOU, a complete nonathlete. Someone who has never, in his entire time at Gerald Ford, had anything to do with sports. Or physical activity.”
I felt my face get hot. Even though I’d said I hated sports, I didn’t like being described as Mr. Anti-Jock.
“If someone like you is fighting for the sports program,” Kulbarsh said slowly, “maybe it is worth keeping.”
A hush spread over the audience. Then they stood up and roared.
Hey! I nudged Luke.
“It’s just lucky for the school you got to speak,” said Kulbarsh. “Right place, right time.”
For once, I thought.
“Woo-hoo!” Chantal yelled. “Danny pulled it out! He saved school sports! Highland, watch out! ’Cause next year we’re going to kick —”
“Enough, Chantal.” Kulbarsh held up his hand.
“— YOUR BONY FREAKIN’ BUTTS!!”
Everyone cheered again.
After assembly, a bunch of people came up to me onstage. But I grabbed Luke and pulled him over.
“WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE SLIDES?” I hissed. “When the underwear pic came on —”
“Oh, man.” Luke buried his face in his hands. “I almost peed in my pants! I was using them while I practiced, like you said. Then I gave all my charts and graphs to my brother, so he could turn them into PowerPoint slides. I must have given him the cartoons too, by mistake.”
I slapped my forehead. Why hadn’t I made him do a practice run-through this morning?
“But you …” Luke’s voice was quiet. “You didn’t just save me — you saved sports. Now we’ll have baseball next year. And I’ll get another shot.”
I looked up and saw we were surrounded. Luke’s jock friends — Tank, Abs, and Kyle — were next to us, listening. I wondered if Luke would shrink back from his words, now that his friends were here.
“Hey, Jinx.” Tank pointed at me. “I didn’t know you could —”
