Trevor Lee and the Big Uh Oh!

by Wiley Blevins

  One Elm Books is an imprint of Red Chair Press LLC

  www.redchairpress.com

  Publisher’s Cataloging-In-Publication Data

  Names: Blevins, Wiley. | Kissi, Marta, illustrator.

  Title: Trevor Lee and the big uh-oh! / by Wiley Blevins ; illustrated by Marta Kissi.

  Description: Egremont, Massachusetts : One Elm Books, an imprint of Red Chair Press, [2019]| Summary: “When the new teacher announces all 3rd graders must read in front of everyone on Parents Night, Trevor Lee and his best friend take action before his secret of not being a good reader gets out.”

  Identifiers: ISBN 9781947159068 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781947159075 (paperback) | ISBN 9781947159082 (ebook)

  Subjects: LCSH: Oral reading--Juvenile fiction. | Literacy--Juvenile fiction. | Third grade (Education)--Juvenile fiction. | CYAC: Oral reading--Fiction. | Literacy--Fiction. | Third grade (Education)--Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.B618652 Tr 2019 (print) | LCC PZ7.B618652 (ebook) | DDC [E]--dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018946742

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Main body text set in 16.5 / 22.5 Minion Pro Regular

  Text copyright ©2020 by Wiley Blevins

  Copyright © 2020 Red Chair Press LLC

  One Elm Books, logo and green leaf colophon are trademarks of Red Chair Press LLC.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in an information or retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical including photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission from the Publisher. For permissions, contact info@redchairpress.com

  Printed in Canada

  519 1P F19FN

  Chapter 1

  P utting your underwear on backwards isn’t the worst thing that can happen to you on the first day of school. Having everyone find out is.

  My name is Trevor Lee McGee. And if there’s one thing people know about me it’s that school and me don’t mix. Like werewolves and vampires. Or peanut butter and pickles. Trust me on that last one.

  My grandma, Mamaw McGee, says, “Some days are just bad. You gotta hold your head up high and keep on moving.”

  Today was going to be one of those days. I could just feel it in my skinny bones. The only skinny thing about me. You see, today was the first day of 3rd Grade.

  My best friend Pinky waited for me in front of the school. Well, not exactly in front. He was hiding behind the big pine tree. Near the front door.

  Pinky’s been my best friend since kindergarten. I know it sounds like a girl’s name. But it’s not. Pinky’s a boy. The kind that picks up frogs and thinks girls smell icky.

  Most girls do smell funny, you know. I think they smell like a mix of strawberry and baby butt. Or even noni.

  What’s noni you ask? Well, it’s some weird fruit from the desert. Or is it the rainforest? Maybe it’s the moon. I can’t remember. Mother bought a whole case of the stuff last summer. Just because she heard on TV it helps you lose weight. It worked. It smelled so gross no one ate it. That’s the secret to losing weight. Buy gross food. You’ll thank me for that advice when you grow up.

  Anyway, back to Pinky. Pinky is not only my best friend, he’s the smallest and loudest kid in the class. Pinky says he wants to be a fire truck when he gets older. Or at least as old as my dad. Which is as old as dirt.

  I told Mamaw Pinky’s great idea about being a fire truck. She just said “Bless his heart” and shook her head.

  Mamaw shakes her head a lot when I talk about Pinky. She must have an itchy, itchy brain.

  “Psst,” said Pinky.

  “Why are you hiding behind the tree?” I asked.

  “I’m not going in there,” he answered.

  “Why?”

  “Do you know who our teacher is this year?

  “No. No idea.”

  “Miss Booger!”

  “Who?”

  “Miss Booger. Like the stuff in your nose. My sister had her last year. Says Miss Booger has x-ray vision. Says she can hear your thoughts, too.”

  “No way!”

  “Way.”

  “And if you talk or even move in class, she… .”

  “She what?” I asked moving in closer.

  “She gives you the evil stink eye.”

  “No way!”

  “Way.”

  “Gentlemen,” interrupted Principal Harris from the doorway. “Gentlemen!”

  “Be very still,” Pinky whispered without moving his lips. “If we don’t move she won’t see us.”

  “I think that egg has already hatched,” I groaned.

  Principal Harris was now standing so close I could smell her coffee breath. French roast with milk and two scoops of sugar. I know my morning beverages. Ever since Mother started working, Daddy has me make his morning coffee. Before he’ll get out of bed. The lazy butt likes the fancy stuff. It’s one of my many new “jobs” since Mother went back to work.

  “Gentlemen,” she said in a voice too deep for a woman. Or a human. “The bell has rung. You need to find your classroom.”

  “But…,” we both said.

  “The only butts I want to hear are yours plopping into chairs.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said as we were marched into the school. To face our doom. Our terrifying end. Our death. All at the hands of Miss Booger.

  Chapter 2

  M iss Booger was a lot prettier and less stinky than I expected.

  It turns out her name is actually Miss Burger. Pinky needs to clean out his ears. But, we’ve decided to call her “The Boog” from here on out. It’s easier to talk about your teacher when you use a nickname. Like Mr. Hairy Nose. Or Miss Hair-on-Fire.

  The Boog wouldn’t let me and Pinky sit beside each other. Something about a story Miss Owens, our 2nd Grade teacher, told her. I had to sit by Sally May. Pinky had to sit by Sally Fay, her twin sister. To say these girls are annoying is like saying dog poo smells. It’s a fact.

  And it all started only ten minutes after the bell rang.

  “Miss Burger, Miss Burger,” Sally May yelled, shaking her hand in the air like a rocket trying to take off. I think that girl has a bad case of the jitters.

  “What is it, Sally May?” asked The Boog.

  “Miss Burger. Trevor Lee is looking at me.”

  “That can happen when you have eyes,” she answered.

  Score one point for The Boog.

  “But Miss Burger,” Sally May continued. “It ain’t right.”

  Sally Fay, her twin sister, began to jiggle faster than Jell-O in an earthquake.

  “Well, I’m sure Trevor Lee is looking because he finds you pretty. Take it as a compliment.”

  The whole class laughed. Not a giggle. Or a chuckle. Rather, the kind of belly laugh where milk shoots out of your nose.

  Minus two points for The Boog.

  By the way, Sally May is now my enemy #1. I told her, too. “Sally May. You are my enemy #1.” Just like that. I didn’t even care if The Boog heard. Sally May shook her fist at me.

  Then Sally Fay shot her hand into the air.

  “Miss Burger,” she yelled. “Pinky is looking at me.”

  “Oh brother,” The Boog muttered under her breath. She had that scrunched face that teachers get right before they explode. Although not usually on the first day. I grabbed the edge of my desk to get ready for the blow.

  “Class. All eyes on the b
oard. All eyes on me. All eyes on your books. For Pete’s sake, look at something other than your neighbor!”

  “Who’s Pete?” I mouthed to Pinky.

  “Dunno,” he mouthed back with a shrug of his shoulders.

  We would have to keep a look out for this Pete guy. Maybe he could join our new club. The Sally May and Sally Fay Are Sooooooo Obnoxious Club. Or SMASFASOC for short. It’s an exclusive club. I know you’ll want to join.

  “Children,” The Boog went on.

  “We will start this morning with reading groups. I want to get a chance to hear all of you read. To show me how much you remember from 2nd Grade.”

  Pinky shot a look at me. I nodded back.

  During the summer we devised a plan for this very moment. You see, I was as good at reading as a fish is good at climbing a cactus.

  The plan went something like this: I would first try to get out of reading group. Come up with some big excuse. A real smart one that would trick a teacher. If that didn’t work, Pinky would distract the teacher. Like shout “here comes a Martian” or bark like a dog. Then I would sneak out to the bathroom. The teacher wouldn’t even know I was gone until reading group was over. Operation Story-Dash was now in effect.

  “Okay, children,” The Boog announced. “My first reading group will be with Sally May, Sally Fay, Elmer, Pinky, and Trevor Lee. Please come to the table in the back of the room.”

  Sally May and Sally Fay skipped to the table. Elmer waddled. He wears husky jeans like me. Pinky acted like he was on a Sunday stroll, hands in his pockets. I remained in my seat.

  “Trevor Lee,” The Boog asked. “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t think I can read today, ma’am,” I answered. “Cause I have an eye disease.”

  “An eye disease?”

  “Yeah. My doctor says it’s… it’s… it’s dangerous for me to read.”

  “Dangerous?” asked The Boog.

  “Yes. I could go blind or something. And need a white cane with a red tip and a seeing eye dog and a book with those raised dots just to cross the street. You wouldn’t want that on your conscience now would you?”

  “I’ll take my chances,” said The Boog. “Join us at the table, Trevor Lee.”

  I slowly raised myself from the chair. Kinda like if I stood up too fast I’d get dizzy. Then I immediately bent down to tie my shoe. I’m a quick thinker.

  “What are you doing now, Trevor Lee?” asked The Boog.

  “Well, you wouldn’t want me to trip and break my neck now would you?” I asked.

  The Boog’s face began to twitch.

  I think she needs some medicine for that.

  The whole class stared as I took baby steps to the table. Foot over foot. Foot over foot. Looking at the ceiling the whole way. Like there was a big spider up there. By the way, someone needs to paint that ceiling. It has tons of brown spots on it. And a couple grizzly-looking dead flies.

  “Well,” said The Boog. “I’ve seen a herd of turtles move faster than that. Thank you for joining us, Trevor Lee.”

  I glanced at Pinky. Clearly we needed to start part 2 of Operation Story-Dash.

  “May I sharpen my pencil?” asked Pinky.

  “No,” answered The Boog.

  “May I get a Kleenex?”

  “No.”

  “May I get an eraser? A globe? Brush my teeth?”

  “No. No. And no!”

  The Boog sure wasn’t following the plan. And in a blink of an eye, she handed us our new books. Faster than I can say Mississippi backwards. Well, I can’t actually say Mississippi backwards. But if I could, it would be fast.

  “Please open your books to page 3,” The Boog said.

  “Why are we skipping pages 1 and 2?” I asked. “Are those not on the test?”

  “We will get to those later, Trevor Lee.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I guess we read out of order in 3rd Grade.”

  “Would you like to read pages 1 and 2 to the group?” asked The Boog.

  “Maybe it’s best if we start on page 3,” I smiled. “New year, new ways.”

  The Boog really was a tricky one. It was time for part 3 of Operation Story-Dash. I winked at Pinky to begin and started to shake my legs back and forth. Pinky knew exactly what to do. That’s why he’s my best friend.

  Pinky raised his hand.

  “Yes, Pinky,” The Boog said with surprise. “Do you want to read?”

  “Uh… no,” Pinky answered rolling his eyes. “I just wanted to tell you that Trevor Lee has to pee.” I looked up at the ceiling. Again, lots of brown spots. And dead flies.

  The Boog stared at Pinky for longer than a teacher should. Then she turned to me.

  “If Trevor Lee has to use the restroom,” she said, carefully pausing on each word. “Then Mr. Trevor Lee can ask for himself. Besides, we need to learn this story. We’re going to read it in front of our moms and dads for Family Night next week.”

  That did it. The mention of reading in front of a group of people started the flow of pee. Down my leg and onto the floor. In the plan, the pee was pretend. But this sure felt real to me.

  Sally May was the first to see it. She screamed and jumped onto her chair.

  Sally Fay fainted. That’s right. Boom. Face on the floor. I know real fainters fall backwards. I’ve seen a lot of ladies at church do it. But the big fat faker Sally Fay just laid there like I was fooled. The pee slowly inching toward her.

  Chapter 3

  L unch couldn’t come fast enough. Darlene, the school secretary, gave me a new pair of pants. Two sizes too big. And powder blue. But, the pants covered all the dangling parts.

  Lunch was my second favorite time of the school day. I’ll tell you about my favorite later.

  Pinky raced to the front of the lunch line. I was hot on his heels. The Boog made us march to the back. Something about waiting your turn and walking like 3rd Graders. This 3rd Grade thing wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  I sure could smell the food from where we stood. You know how when someone says chocolate and all you can think about is cake or doughnuts or cookies or ice cream or pie or stuff

  like that? I bet you’re doing it now. Well, that’s what I was doing. Pinky kept jabbering about how unfair The Boog was. But, when I looked at him all I saw was a big bologna sandwich. Mamaw says I’m like a dog that way.

  “What’s it going to be?” asked Pinky. Snapping me out of my food dream.

  “Pizza and peas,” I announced. “With a side of applesauce.” I know my food smells. I can smell a Tic-Tac a mile away. Even with the wind blowing in the opposite direction.

  “Rats! I want a hotdog,” said Pinky.

  “Sorry, buddy. It’s pizza and peas.”

  When we finally got into the kitchen, which took like twenty hundred thousand years, the only pieces of pizza left were the burned ones. The cook behind the counter plopped a droopy slice onto my plate.

  “One or two scoops?” she asked, pointing to the peas with her giant metal spoon.

  “One, please.”

  “Nice to see you again this year, Mrs. Peppercorn,” I added.

  “So you made it to 3rd Grade?” she asked. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I smiled.

  You might think Mrs. Peppercorn was the first lady I’ve seen with a moustache. You’d be wrong. But she wore it especially well. It matched her husband’s.

  Then it was Pinky’s turn. He and Mrs. Peppercorn had a past. Let’s just say it had its ups and downs. Mostly downs.

  “One scoop or two?” she asked, glaring at Pinky.

  “I’d like a hotdog,” Pinky said.

  Mrs. Peppercorn tapped the metal spoon on the counter.

  And stared.

  And stared.

  And stared.

  “Two scoops it is,” she said. “Next!”

  The Boog shuffled us out of the line and to our tables.

  Pinky just looked at his plate.

  “Gobble it down,
” I told him. “We have work to do. We gotta get me out of Family Night. And we only have a week to do it.”

  Our plan to get me out of reading group had certainly failed. The Boog was like a puzzle missing one piece. I couldn’t quite figure her out yet. We would have to come up with a different plan for Family Night. Something bigger and better.

  “So,” I said, looking at Pinky. “I’m sure in a pickle with no juice.”

  “What’s the word your daddy uses when your mother tells him he should know what she wants him to do without her telling him?” he asked.

  “He says he’s flummoxed.”

  “Well, we are close to being completely flummoxed.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “Maybe you can move to a new school.”

  “Yeah. Right after I fly home from Uranus.”

  Pinky laughed.

  The word Uranus always makes Pinky laugh. Like panties and Lake Titicaca.

  “Well, maybe you can tell The Boog you were raised by wolves. That way she wouldn’t send home a note about Family Night. Everyone knows wolves can’t read.”

  “If I was raised by wolves,” I said, making my “don’t be dumb” face. “I’d be hairier. Think, Pinky!”

  “Let’s just eat,” he sighed.

  Some days are as bad as a wolf with no Red Riding Hood to eat.

  Chapter 31⁄2

  (That’s right. I like fractions.)

  A t recess, Pinky and I continued to think of ideas to get me out of Family Night. I made a list in my head. And here are our best ones. What do you think?

  Ideas for Getting Out of Family Night

  1. Run away and join the circus. (Note to self: You’re scared of lions and clowns.)

  2. Move to Timbuktu and adopt a piglet. (Note to self: Find Timbuktu on a map.)

  3. Buy a banjo and become a country music star. (Note to self: Learn how to sing. And play an instrument.)

  We ran out of ideas right as the recess bell rang. The Boog lined us up. Then marched us into the classroom. “Like good little soldiers,” she said.