The World's Greatest Underachiever and the Best Worst Summer Ever

by Henry Winkler

  He smiled. “That’s exactly what I said, Hank. I gave you an A for knowing the material and for creativity of presentation. And the plus was for being able to teach what you know to someone else.”

  “You mean Mason?”

  “Yes.” Mr Rock nodded. “After you left the room, Mason finished your presentation for you. He told us about how Einstein won the Nobel Prize and loved to sail and how the Hopi Indians gave him the name ‘The Great Relative’.”

  “And did he tell you that Einstein didn’t wear socks because his big toenail always made a hole in them?”

  “Yes, he did.” Mr Rock smiled. “I could hear your voice in every word he said, Hank. You’re a fine teacher and a natural communicator.”

  Let me just take a minute to describe to you how I felt when Mr Rock said that. Imagine that some people gave you the biggest, best birthday present you had ever hoped for in your whole entire life. And then they rolled out a birthday cake the size of a jet plane. A chocolate cake with chocolate icing and chocolate sprinkles. And then they gave you a spoon and said you could eat the whole cake yourself. And that when you were finished, you could play with your new present for the rest of the year. That would feel pretty cool, huh?

  Well, that’s how I felt. Imagine it. A teacher, my teacher, gave me a real live compliment for schoolwork I had done. And an A-plus for something I never thought I could do in the first place! Unbelievable.

  “Wow,” I said to Mr Rock. “Wowee, wow, wow, wow.”

  How’s that for being a natural communicator?

  “I’ve already discussed your mark with your father,” Mr Rock said. “So if I’m not mistaken, I think you have a luau and a sleepover to go to.”

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Two-thirty,” he answered.

  Two-thirty! The talent show started at two-thirty! And Magik 3 was on first.

  I shot out of the toilet cubicle like a torpedo.

  “Hank!” Mr Rock called after me. “Your wig!”

  I had forgotten that I was still Albert Einstein from the waist up. I gave the wig a tug as I bolted for the playground. Oh boy, that spirit gum had really worked. The Einstein hair was on there for good, maybe even longer. No time to get it off now. That went for the droopy moustache, as well.

  Albert Einstein, meet King Kahuna Huna. I hope you two dudes get along, because you’re going to be spending some quality time together.

  I was panting pretty hard by the time I reached the far end of the playground where the luau was taking place. All the Junior Explorers were sitting on striped beach blankets in front of a stage that had been put up for the talent show. The backdrop of the stage was painted with a Hawaiian scene with purple volcanoes and red lava. Next to that, there was a limbo area set up in the sandpit. And next to that was a big paddling pool filled with water and floating plastic Hawaiian flowers. I’ve never been to Hawaii, but I have to say, if it looks anything like the playground at PS 87 looked, I would really enjoy it.

  There was no time for stopping to admire the scenery, though. Frankie was already on stage wearing a top hat and a Hawaiian shirt. He was talking into a microphone that crackled a little when he spoke.

  “Come with me now to the ancient Hawaiian Islands, where King Kahuna Huna sailed the seas in his magical canoe,” I heard him say.

  Yikes. That was me. I had better get sailing, or I was going to be up a creek without a paddle.

  Ashley was standing on the stage strumming her ukulele and singing softly.

  “Oh, we’re going to a hooky lau, a hooky, hooky, hooky, hooky, hooky lau.”

  I know it was a crazy song, but with the volcano and the lava and the Hawaiian flowers, it all kind of worked.

  Her dad, Dr Wong, was using tongs to put big chunks of dry ice into a bucket on the stage in front of where the volcano was painted. Ashley’s mum, the other Dr Wong, was standing by with a kettle of water. They were concentrating very hard on what they were doing, so that when I talked to them, they didn’t even look up.

  “Dr Wong?” I said.

  “Yes, Hank,” they both answered at once.

  I wondered if it was a problem to have the same name. Maybe Ashley’s mum should go by Dr Wongette so they wouldn’t get confused. Or maybe Dr Wongess sounds better. Or maybe something different like Dr Mum-Wong.

  Stop it, brain. No wondering now. We’re in a hurry. Focus.

  “Where should I go for my entrance?” I asked them.

  “Backstage,” the good doctors Wong answered together. “You’re late.”

  Dr Wongette poured some water from the kettle on to the dry ice in the bucket. She did a really good job because big puffs of white steam started to rise from it. I looked up at Frankie on stage. He was waving his magic wand and starting to do a tribal warrior dance.

  “Oh Great King Kahuna Huna,” he chanted as he danced, “come to us in your canoe. Appear in great clouds of smoke erupting from the Mauna Kapapa volcano.”

  I dashed backstage. It sounded like I was going to have to erupt any second.

  Backstage was nothing more than the playground behind the volcano backdrop. Thank goodness for Ashley. She had remembered to put my cushion shoes right where I could find them. I could hear Frankie building up to my entrance as I slipped my feet under the ribbon we had tied to each cushion.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment has come,” he said, making his voice echo into the microphone. “We have called King Kahuna Huna here to dazzle you with his ability to travel through time. King Kahuna Huna, show yourself!”

  Ashley started to strum furiously on her ukulele. Frankie held the microphone close to his mouth and made the sound of a drum roll. He is really good at imitating sounds. Even though I couldn’t see the kids in the audience, I could tell from their gasps that the good doctors Wong had really kicked up the steam. I could hear the water splashing in the dry-ice bucket, and I could even see some of the steam creeping under the scenery towards me.

  I took a deep breath and leapt forward, crashing through the purple volcano painted on the brown paper that Ashley and Frankie had borrowed from my mum’s deli. As I burst on to the stage, I put on my biggest smile and held my arms up to the sky.

  Even if I say so myself, it was quite an entrance. At first, all the kids were too stunned to say anything. It was totally silent in the audience.

  Then everyone broke out laughing. I mean, they erupted!

  “Zip,” Frankie whispered to me, “what’s with the hair and moustache?”

  “I can explain that.”

  “No time now,” Ashley whispered.

  Frankie looked at the audience. They were still cracking up, which wasn’t exactly what we had intended.

  “You better come up with something, dude,” Frankie said. “Make it good.”

  OK, Hank. You’ve got a good imagination. Crank it up … immediately.

  “Hello, mine little friends of PS 87,” I said in my German accent. “Albert Einstein here.”

  “Hey, Zipper Butt, you’re supposed to be King Kahuna Huna, jerk,” Nick McKelty hollered out. He looked over at Joelle and gave her a punch in the arm. She shoved him back. Wow, they were perfect for each other. Mr Hit and Ms Shove.

  “Zank you for bringing that up, chubby head,” I said, looking right at Nick. “I have a vonderful explanation.”

  “This is going to be lame,” McKelty said.

  “Vhile I vas riding round on a beam of light across zee universe, who should I bump into but King Kahuna Huna. He vas in his outer-space outrigger. And in case zat is too big a vord for you, McKelty, das is a canoe.”

  Everyone cracked up. McKelty turned red in the face, and I was loving it.

  “Anyhoo,” I went on, “zee king he says to me, ‘Al … I need a big favour. I vas on my vay to PS 87 vhen I got a call that another volcano vas erupting on Waca Waca Wiki Waca.’ For those of you who aren’t a genius like me, zat’s an island right next to Waca Wiki Wiki Waca.”

  I noticed that Ki
m Paulson and Katie Sperling, the two prettiest girls in my class, were holding their sides from laughing so hard. I didn’t know people actually did that.

  “So King Kahuna Huna says to me, ‘I vas vondering if you could take over the PS 87 gig for me.’ I said, ‘Sure, Kahuna, das is my pleasure.’ So here I am.”

  The kids went wild. They burst into applause and started to chant my name.

  “Hank! Hank! Hank!” they shouted in a steady rhythm.

  And here is the most incredible part: when I looked over at Ms Adolf, she was laughing so hard, her coconuts had shifted all the way to her back.

  Papa Pete always tells me, “Hankie, quit while you’re ahead.” So I did.

  They went on chanting my name for at least three minutes, maybe more. I could hear them as I shuffled backstage and took off my green cushion shoes.

  “Good work, Zip,” Frankie said. “You really pulled that from out of your hat.”

  “You mean his wig!” Ashley said, laughing.

  Frankie, Ashley and I came out and sat down in the front row of the audience. It was fun sitting there because a bunch of kids whispered to me that I was really funny.

  It took a while for the audience to settle down so they could enjoy the next act, which was supposed to be Emily, Robert and Bruce the Gecko. I don’t know if it was the chanting from the kids or if you just can’t teach a lizard to dance, but whatever the reason, Bruce had a freak-out. He curled himself up into a little ball that was so small it looked like a dot on top of the letter i. He hid at the back of the cap from Robert’s ear cream that was still being used as his water dish.

  While everyone waited, Robert kneeled down next to Bruce’s plastic box, begging him on his bony little knees.

  “Come on, Bruce,” he said. “I’ll never ask anything of you again.”

  Bruce wasn’t going for it. He stayed put. Robert tried another tactic.

  “Actually, Bruce,” he said, “I think you’ll find that dancing is a very aerobic activity. It stimulates your heart and benefits your blood flow. You won’t be sorry.”

  “Robert, don’t pressure him,” Emily said to him. “He’s just a delicate little gecko.”

  I’m not someone who says nice things about my sister just for fun. But the truth is, I had to hand it to Emily. I mean, I felt badly for her that Bruce was a no-show. But it was pretty cool that she was willing to give up the talent contest for the good of the gecko. You’ve got to admire that kind of devotion to lizards.

  McKelty was getting tired of waiting. He stood up and shouted, “We’ve waited long enough. Let’s lose the geeks. Who’s ready to see the real winner?”

  “Mr McKelty,” Ms Adolf said, “there is another way to say you’re ready.”

  “Gotcha, Ms A.” He smirked. “How about Make Way for the King?”

  I felt someone pulling on my sleeve. I turned round, expecting to hear another compliment.

  “Hi, Hank. You made me laugh.”

  It was none other than Micro-Mason, the cutest kid on the planet. Without saying another word, he crawled up on to my lap and got comfortable so he could watch the rest of the show.

  McKelty began to set up the stage for his act. I don’t know what he was planning to do, but I could tell Joelle was part of it too. He sent her to stand over by the paddling pool with her dopey leotard on.

  McKelty started to pull off his shirt. When he lifted his arms to get his shirt off, you could smell his stinky stink all the way over in the front row where we were sitting.

  “He smells like my goldfish bowl,” Mason said.

  One thing about Mason, he sure doesn’t sugarcoat the truth.

  McKelty held up his hands to get everyone quiet, which we were anyway.

  “Put your arms down,” Mason said, holding his nose. I tried to cover his mouth with my hands, but it was too late. McKelty had heard him.

  “Are you telling me what to do, shrimp?” McKelty said. Now I ask you, how much of a jerk do you have to be to say that to a little kid?

  “Get on with it, McKelty,” I said. “Show us your so-called talent.”

  “Here goes,” said McKelty. “For my act, I am going to demonstrate the manly art of Frisbee Throwing on the Beach.”

  “Manly art, my foot,” Ashley whispered. “Give me a break.”

  “I will demonstrate several techniques from my award-winning style,” McKelty said.

  “If this guy’s ever won an award for anything, my name is Bernice,” Frankie said.

  “No, it’s not,” Mason said. “Hank says your name is Frankie.”

  McKelty took a red Frisbee out of the bowling bag he had brought on to the stage with him. He took a bunch of deep breaths and tried pumping up his arms like a bodybuilder.

  “For my first trick, I will do the McKelty Special Long Toss,” he said, spraying spit all the way to the first row. “Notice that not only will the Frisbee travel across the playground, it will change height three times as it travels.”

  That sounded pretty impressive. Everyone became really quiet as he prepared for the long toss.

  “Joelle, are you ready to assist me?” McKelty called out.

  “You bet I am.” She giggled.

  McKelty picked up the Frisbee with his huge, galumphy hand. He hauled back and flung it towards Joelle with all his might. I’ll say this for McKelty. He’s big, and when he throws a Frisbee, it sails.

  Unfortunately for Joelle, it sailed right into her forehead, knocking her backwards into the paddling pool. She never even got her hands up to make the catch. Nope, she just plopped into the pool with a splash and a scream.

  When she came up for air, she had a whole bunch of plastic Hawaiian flowers on her head. Oh yeah, and about her leotard with the hand-painted birds of paradise all over – to put it simply, they were washed away.

  Good work, McKelty. Now that’s what I call a great trick.

  Joelle didn’t take it well. She started to pound the water with her palms, splashing everybody sitting anywhere near her.

  “This is all your fault,” she sputtered at Nick the Tick.

  “My fault!” he yelled back at her. “How about catching it next time?”

  Joelle hauled herself out of the pool and stormed off towards the school hall. As she ran by us, you could hear her feet sloshing around in her trainers.

  “Hey, Joelle,” Ashley said as she ran by, “you might try rhinestones next time. At least they’re waterproof.”

  That pretty much put an end to McKelty’s Frisbee act. After him, a few more kids performed. Heather Payne played “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean” on the cello. Kim Paulson and Katie Sperling did a lip sync to a Beatles song. Ben Brady cracked his knuckles in time to “Battle Hymn of the Republic”. He didn’t just use his fingers. He used his toes too. That takes talent. I was worried about him. He was going to give us some stiff competition.

  After everyone had finished, Ms Adolf got us all to come on to the stage and line up. She held her hand over each contestant’s head and asked the audience to applaud for the one they thought had been the best. We went last, because we had been the first to go on.

  And guess what? We won!

  As I looked out at all the kids applauding for us and at Mason jumping up and down and screaming, I thought to myself, Hank, this is the greatest day of your life.

  And here’s the weird part: it happened at summer school.

  An interview with Henry Winkler

  What’s your favourite thing about Hank Zipzer?

  My favourite thing about Hank Zipzer is that he is resourceful. Just because he can’t figure something out doesn’t mean that he won’t find a way. I love his sense of humour. Even though Lin and I write the books together, when we meet in the morning to work we never know where the characters or the story will take us. Hank and his friends make us laugh all the time.

  Hank likes to write lists. Are you a list person, too? (If so, what sorts of lists do you make?)

  Hank likes to write lists, and so do I.
My whole life is organized on scraps of paper in a pile on my desk by my phone. If I didn’t make lists, I would get nothing done, because I would forget the important things that I had to do. And then, I’m constantly rewriting those lists and adding to them. So yes, I’m a list maker.

  Who was your favourite teacher?

  Believe it or not, Mr Rock, the music teacher at my high school, McBurney’s School for Boys, was my favourite teacher. He seemed to understand that learning was difficult for me. He understood that just because I had trouble with almost every subject, it did not mean I was stupid.

  Where did you grow up?

  I grew up on the West side of New York City in the same building Hank lives in. The neighbourhood, the stores, the park, the school and even Ms Adolf are all taken from my life. I took the Broadway bus number 104 to school every day.

  What was it like growing up with dyslexia?

  When I was growing up in New York City, no one knew what dyslexia was. I was called stupid and lazy, and I was told that I was not living up to my potential. It was, without a doubt, painful. I spent most of my time covering up the fact that reading, writing, spelling, maths, science – actually, every subject but lunch – was really, really difficult for me. If I went to the shop and paid the bill with paper money and I was given coins back for change, I had no idea how to count up the change in my head. I just trusted that everyone was being honest.

  What’s it like working as a team to write the World’s Greatest Underachiever books?

  We have the most wonderful time working together. Lin sits at the computer, and I walk in a circle in front of her desk. If I start talking like the characters, Lin kindly types it in because I don’t use a computer. Or, she’ll tell me to stop for a minute because she’s got a great idea and her fingers fly across the keyboard. Sometimes, I’ll write my chapters in long hand and Lin will transcribe them and correct my spelling. When the book is done, we both go over it to see if we’ve left anything out, or perhaps we’ll find a better joke for one of the characters or better action in a scene. When it’s completely done, we send it to our editor, and she sends back her notes that we then incorporate.