Dear God, Help!!! Love, Earl

by Barbara Park

  Since Maxie lives right across from school, my friend Rosie Swanson and I meet him on his porch and we walk the rest of the way together. The three of us only met at the beginning of the school year. But we’re already best friends. That’s because we’re all kind of oddballs, I think.

  Take Maxie, for instance. Even though he’s real scrawny, he’s got the biggest brain in the entire school. Like he’s never gotten anything below an A+ in his whole life. And his hobby is reading the dictionary. I’m serious. He finds weird words that no one’s ever heard of, then he teases you with them. Like he’ll call you a scrum, for instance. Which has something to do with rugby, I think. But when Maxie says it, it sounds totally insulting.

  As for Rosie, she’s the snoopy, tattletale type. Her grandfather used to be a cop, so she’s always trying to force Maxie and me to cross at crosswalks and stuff like that.

  We still like her, though. Maxie says she’s resolute, whatever that means.

  Anyway, as soon as I turned the corner for Maxie’s house that morning, I looked down and saw one of my dollars creeping out of my jacket pocket.

  “Oh, geez,” I said right out loud. The last thing I needed was for Rosie to start asking a bunch of questions about why I was bringing money to school. Paying Eddie McFee not to hurt me was humiliating enough without my friends finding out about it.

  Just as Rosie came running up beside me, I grabbed the dollar out of my pocket and hid it in my fist.

  “Come on, Earl. Let’s go!” she said, rushing past me. “We’re late. If we don’t run, we’re all going to get late slips this morning. Hustle!”

  I hate it when people tell me to hustle. In my opinion, a kid should be the boss of his own speed.

  I kept right on walking. “Hustle yourself,” I said.

  As usual, Rosie wouldn’t take no for an answer. She grabbed my hand and started to pull me.

  Unfortunately, it was the hand with the dollar bill.

  “Hey! What’s in your fist, Earl? Is that money sticking out of there? What are you bringing money to school for? Is the PTA selling those brownies you love again?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Rosie kept at it. “Come on, Earl. Tell me. Why are you bringing money to school?”

  “Nosy,” I said. “Nosy Rosie.”

  “Earl!”

  “It’s for none of your beeswax, that’s what it’s for,” I told her.

  By now, we were almost to Maxie’s house. He was sitting on the porch step waiting for us.

  “Max! Hey, Max!” Rosie shouted. “Earl’s hiding money in his fist, and he won’t tell me what it’s for!”

  Maxie raised one eyebrow like he was Sherlock Holmes or somebody.

  “Oh?” he replied.

  “Oh yourself,” I said. “What’s wrong with you guys, anyway? I brought a couple of lousy dollars to school. Big dumb deal. It’s just for an emergency, okay? Haven’t your mothers ever told you to carry money in case of an emergency?”

  Rosie shrugged. “Mine hasn’t,” she said. “She taught me CPR and the Heimlich maneuver. But she never said anything about bringing money to school.”

  “Mine either,” said Max. “In case of an emergency, I’m supposed to call my uncle Murray, the personal injury lawyer.”

  He reached into his book bag and pulled out two business cards. He handed them to Rosie and me. The cards said:

  IF YOU’RE HURT AND LIFE’S NO FUN,

  CALL ME AND WE’LL SUE SOMEONE.

  Murray Zuckerman

  Personal Injury Attorney

  555-3546

  “He’s an excellent lawyer,” Maxie told us. “My uncle Murray can make you think you’ve been injured, even if you haven’t.”

  I rolled my eyes and started across the street. That’s when the school bell began to ring.

  Rosie took off like a rocket. The thought of getting a late slip totally freaks her out. Maxie was hurrying, too.

  “See you in P.E., Earl!” he called.

  Even though the two of us are in different rooms, all the fifth-grade boys have P.E. together on Wednesday mornings.

  I crossed my fingers. Not if I can help it, I thought.

  A few minutes later, I was standing in the hallway right outside Nurse Klonski’s office. I could see her sitting at her desk. She was rubbing her temples. Nurse Klonski is one of those school officials who always seem to have a headache.

  I made a pained face and limped into her office.

  “Ouch!” I said. “Ow! Ouch!”

  Nurse Klonski looked at me a second. Then she lowered her head to her desk and covered it up with her arms.

  “No. Please, Mr. Wilber. Not you. Not today,” she said.

  I’m not exactly one of Nurse Klonski’s favorite people. I’m the only kid I know who’s ever gotten a comment from the nurse on his report card. The first marking period she wrote:

  EARL MAKES TOO MANY UNNECESSARY VISITS TO MY OFFICE.

  NURSE K.

  I made my voice sound as weak as I could.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Nurse Klonski,” I said. “But I fell on my ankle coming up the school steps this morning. And I think it might be broken.”

  Quickly, she stood up. “Oh, my gosh, Earl! Why didn’t you say so? I had no idea this was serious,” she said.

  Nurse Klonski ran around the desk and started taking off my shoe.

  “Ow! Ow! Ow! That kills!” I yelled.

  She pulled her hand away. “But I barely even touched you.”

  “I know, I know. It just hurts, that’s all,” I whined.

  She tried one more time.

  “Ow! Stop! Please!” I hollered even louder than before.

  By now, she seemed seriously worried. “It looks like you’re going to need to have this X-rayed, Earl,” she said. “Do you have school insurance?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. Is an X ray expensive?”

  I looked around the office. “If an X ray is expensive, maybe we could just prop my foot up on some pillows for a while and see if the swelling goes down on its own. I don’t mind lying here if it’ll save my mother an X ray bill, Mrs. Klonski. Really, I don’t.”

  I sat down a second. Then suddenly, I frowned.

  “Shoot. Of all the crummy luck. I just remembered. I have P.E. this morning.”

  I sighed. “Darn it all. I love P.E., too. But I guess I’ll just have to miss it today. Right, Nurse K.? I mean even if my ankle is better by ten o’clock, I still don’t think I should put any weight on it. Do you?”

  At first, Nurse Klonski just looked at me. Then all at once, she seemed to relax a little bit.

  “I think you’re right, Earl,” she said. “And I agree that we should hold off on the X rays for a while, too. Wait here a minute, okay? I’ll go round up a few pillows to help elevate your foot.”

  She went to her office door and started into the hall.

  That’s when I heard her shriek.

  “OH, MY STARS IN HEAVEN!”

  Then, quick as anything, she ran back into the office, slammed the door, and leaned against it with all her weight.

  “Good gosh! You will not believe what’s coming down the hall!” she said.

  I flew to the door. “What? What? Tell me! What is it? What’s out there?”

  I started jumping up and down, trying to see through the little window at the top. But I couldn’t jump high enough.

  Still leaning against the door, Nurse Klonski crossed her arms and looked down at my foot.

  “My, my, my. Look at that. Our broken ankle seems to be feeling better,” she said.

  I stopped jumping right away. But it was too late.

  I was already busted.

  I didn’t speak for a really long time. Instead, I just stood there with my cheeks turning hot from embarrassment.

  Finally, I swiveled my ankle all around. “Gee. What do you know? It’s a miracle,” I said softly.

  “Hallelujah,” said Nurse Klonski. Then she opened the door
and stepped out of my way.

  I backed into the hall. “All rightie. Well, uh … have a nice day,” I said stupidly.

  She said, “Ta-ta,” and shut the door.

  A few seconds later, I heard a tapping sound on the little window. When I looked up, her fingers were waving at me.

  I don’t think I’ll be going back there again. Not for a while, anyway.

  * * *

  Mrs. Mota dismissed us for P.E. at ten o’clock. I still remember how sick I felt walking to the gym that morning.

  As usual, Eddie McFee was waiting for me in the boys’ bathroom. That’s where I always gave him the money.

  I took one look at him and blessed myself. I’m not Catholic, but I’m pretty sure anybody can bless themselves. Like the Catholics don’t own it or anything.

  Eddie gave me one of his normal friendly greetings. “You got the money, Jumbo?” he asked.

  I handed over my two dollars. “Yeah, sure, Eddie. Here,” I said. “But before you go, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  The muscles in Eddie’s face tightened. “Like what kind of something?” he asked.

  I took a deep breath. Then, trying to keep my voice calm, I started explaining all about how broke I was. And how maybe if we could lower the payments, my money would last longer.

  “This is only a temporary problem, you understand, Ed,” I said. “I’ll be getting more money at Christmas. But until then, if we just lower the payments, at least you’ll still be getting a little something every week, right? And something is better than nothing, don’t you think?”

  Eddie didn’t think at all. Instead, he grabbed me by the shirt and pushed me against the wall. Then he put his foot on my stomach and pressed so hard I thought I would split in two.

  “This is a joke, right, Tubs?” he asked.

  As I doubled over, I managed to nod.

  Eddie sneered. “Good,” he said. “Because if I don’t keep gettin’ my money, that would upset me. And if I get upset, I might do something to you that doesn’t feel so good, Earl. You know, something like this.”

  Before I knew it, Eddie McFee had grabbed ahold of my ears and was practically lifting me off the ground. I’m not exaggerating, either. It felt like he was ripping my ears right off my head.

  My eyes filled with tears. I wasn’t crying, exactly. But I was getting close.

  Eddie saw. “Oooh nooo. What’s da twouble?” he said. “Is da widdle baby stawting to cwy?” he teased.

  He let go of my ears and shoved me back into the wall. Then he pointed his finger in my face.

  “Don’t ever joke around about not giving me my money again, Earl,” he warned. “I need this money, okay? I count on it.”

  He stood there glaring a little while longer. Then finally, he left.

  I washed my face and followed.

  *3* TORTURE

  I was still trying to brush Eddie’s dirty footprint off the front of my shirt when Maxie sat down next to me on the bleachers.

  He stared at the mark. “Who danced on your stomach?” he asked.

  I turned away from him. “Nobody, okay? Just never mind.”

  Suddenly, Coach Rah came hurrying into the gym and gave a loud blast on his whistle. “Kickball today, gentlemen!” he shouted. “Today’s captains are Paulie Little and Leon Lucas. Paulie? Leon? Get down here and choose up sides, men!”

  Paulie and Leon hurried to the middle of the floor and started scanning the stands to see who they wanted to pick. But even though I was sitting up straight and tall, their eyes passed over me like I was the invisible man.

  I always get picked last. Always. Ever since kindergarten, it’s been the same thing. I sit in the bleachers while the captains start choosing up sides.

  Then one by one, the rows begin to empty until there’s only six or seven of us left.

  Then there’s four.

  And then there’s just me and one other kid.

  That’s when I cross my fingers and pray that this time—just this once—I won’t get picked last.

  Then the other kid gets chosen.

  And there I am.

  Sitting all alone.

  And it’s like I’m wearing a giant sign that says EARL IS A LOSER.

  And it feels like torture, I’m telling you. Absolute, total torture.

  And okay, I know there are other tortures that are worse. Like I wouldn’t want to be lowered into a pit full of snakes. And one time my mother made me watch that whole Nutcracker thing on PBS.

  But what makes being picked last especially hard to take is that Eddie McFee is always chosen first. Always.

  A lot of people don’t know this, but Death is an excellent athlete. He’s real coordinated and all. Like you should see the cool way he strolls onto the floor after he gets picked. Even with rubber soles on, he practically glides.

  This time Paulie Little won the toss.

  “Eddie McFee,” he said right away.

  “Gee. What a surprise,” I mumbled to Max.

  I slumped down in the bleachers. “It’s not my fault that I’m not a good athlete, you know. I mean, geez, my father’s from England. They don’t even have sports over there.”

  For some reason, I felt myself getting annoyed. “Did you know my father’s name is Cecil? Cecil Halliwell Wilber III. Yeah, boy. That really sounds like an athlete’s name, doesn’t it?”

  My voice got louder. “Guess what his favorite sport is, Max? This’ll kill you.”

  Maxie gave me the “shh” sign. But I was suddenly so angry, I couldn’t seem to control my volume.

  “No, really. Come on. Guess,” I insisted.

  Maxie reached over and tried to cover my mouth. But he wasn’t in time.

  “DARTS!” I hollered out. “The man plays darts!

  He’s even got his own special little dart box that he carries around with him! Can you believe that?”

  I made my voice sound British. “He says it’s JOLLY GOOD FUN!”

  Coach Rah glared up at me from the floor. “Hey, Prince Charles. You wanna put a sock in it, son?” he shouted.

  Everyone busted out laughing.

  God! Why did it always have to be like this? At least half my life has been spent in total humiliation.

  I closed my eyes and plugged my ears to block out the noise. I knew it wouldn’t work, though. No matter how hard you press on your ears, you can never keep the laughter out.

  By the time I finally opened my eyes again, there were six kids left on the bleachers.

  Then four.

  Then there was just Maxie and me.

  It was Paulie Little’s turn to choose.

  I crossed my fingers. Come on, God. Just this once, okay? Just this one time don’t let me be the last one picked.

  “Zuckerman,” called Paulie.

  Leon Lucas looked irritated. “Great,” he said. “I get Prince Charles.”

  It takes guts to walk down to the gym floor after being laughed at. Most people never think about that. But I’m telling you it takes real courage.

  It definitely doesn’t put you in a good mood, though. As Maxie and I walked out to the kickball field, he was blabbing away like crazy, while I wasn’t saying a word.

  It was weird, too. Because even though I could hear his voice, I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

  Finally, he gave me a shove. “So what about it?” he said. “Can I borrow the money or not?”

  I stared at him blankly. “What money?”

  Maxie hit me in the arm. “You haven’t heard a single word I’ve said, have you? The two bucks you brought to school … I forgot my lunch and I need to borrow it.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks. No. Please. This could not be happening. Hadn’t I been through enough for one morning? Did I actually have to make up an on-the-spot lie about where my money had gone?

  I felt myself start to panic. “No,” I blurted. “You can’t have it, Max. You can’t borrow it.”

  Maxie gave me the meanest look eve
r. “Well, thank you, Mr. Generous,” he said. “Thank you, Mr. Good Friend. Mr. Emergency Money. Mr. My Best Pal. It’s not like I wasn’t going to pay you back, you know.”

  He started to walk off.

  “No. Wait, Max. You don’t understand,” I said. “The money’s gone already. I don’t even have it anymore.”

  Maxie turned around and raised that stupid Sherlock Holmes eyebrow of his. “So where did it go?”

  I swallowed hard. Come on, Earl! Think! Think! Where did the money go? Make up something. Quick!

  “Well, uh, let’s see. The truth is … I gave it to someone,” I said.

  Maxie’s eyebrow refused to go back down. “Like to who, exactly? Who did you give it to?” he asked.

  I began to stutter. “To who? You mean, you want to know the actual person I gave it to? Because, well, um … let’s see. I gave it to …”

  Think, think, think! Who do people give their money to?

  “The Salvation Army,” I spouted.

  Maxie looked at me like I was a lunatic. “The Salvation Army? Are you kidding me? You mean the guys with the bells and the little red pots at Christmas?”

  By now, I was totally flustered. “Yes. Right. They’re the ones. A Salvation Army guy came to my room this morning for Show and Tell. And when he clanged his little bell, I automatically put my two dollars in his pot. I couldn’t even help myself, Max. I’m conditioned to do that. I swear. My mother makes me give them my allowance at Christmas.”

  It was a ridiculous lie. No one in their right mind would have believed it. Especially not someone as smart as Maxie.

  I watched as his eyes drifted back to Eddie’s footprint on my shirt.

  I tried to cover it up again. But I knew I was too late.

  Maxie Zuckerman’s brilliant brain was already putting two and two together.

  *4* UNCLE MURRAY

  Maxie didn’t waste a bit of time telling Rosie about my lie in P.E. At lunch he kept ducking behind my back and whispering to her. Then later, while the three of us were walking home from school, they started giving each other these stupid signals with their eyebrows.

  I caught Rosie right in the act.

  “Stop that,” I said. “You two have been whispering about me all day, and I’m sick of it.”