Niagara Falls, Or Does It? #1

by Winkler, Henry

  CHAPTER 11

  OKAY, ABOUT THE LIST in the last chapter. You’re right. There are eleven things on it and I said there were only going to be ten. Well, you shouldn’t be surprised. It’s me, Hank Zipzer. I’m lucky that all my fingers and toes are attached. Otherwise, I’d lose count.

  CHAPTER 12

  WHEN MY ALARM CLOCK rang the next morning, I didn’t hear the buzzer. All I heard was, “Monday morning, Monday morning, Monday morning.” It was going to be tricky getting Niagara Falls to school, so we had to leave extra early. Ashley said her mom had to be at the hospital anyway, so she didn’t mind walking us to school.

  We met in the basement. Frankie and I each picked up one end of the pan. Since it was my project, I volunteered to be the one who walked backward. Ashley took the water pump, the Saran-wrapped hose, and a paper bag with my costume in it. (I haven’t mentioned the costume before, because I threw it in at the last minute. I thought it would add what Papa Pete calls “pizazz.”)

  When we got outside our building, Ashley cleared the people out of the way and kept watch for big cracks in the sidewalk so I wouldn’t trip. First we passed by Mr. Kim’s market. He was putting out buckets of fresh flowers for the day. When he saw Niagara Falls, he took a flower from one of the buckets and put it on the top of the cliffs.

  “Flowers grow on mountain top,” he said.

  “Thanks, Mr. Kim,” I said.

  We reached the corner and waited for the light to change. When it was green, we crossed Amsterdam Avenue. A couple cab drivers blew their horns as we walked by, probably because they were so amazed to see Niagara Falls passing by right in front of them. I felt good because a lot of them had probably never been to Niagara Falls, and at least now they were getting a chance to see it.

  “Please! Hold your honks!” I shouted, as I took a half bow. “And thank you, one and all.”

  Frankie started to laugh, and then I did too. Ashley knew we were heading into one of our marathon laughing fits. When we were little, she watched us get plenty of time-outs in school because of our uncontrollable laughter.

  “Stop it, boys!” she said. “Concentrate. You don’t want to drop it now.”

  “Children, don’t dawdle in the intersection,” Ashley’s mom said. She had a good point. You can’t fool around in a New York intersection. When the light changes, the cars go. If you’re in the way, it’s your problem.

  Dr. Wong is very nice but very quiet. Ashley says she doesn’t talk much because most of the people she is around all day are asleep. She’s a surgeon.

  We made it to the school crosswalk without falling, tripping, or dropping the project. We only had a few more steps to go, but they were tricky ones. There are a couple big potholes in front of our school. They’re always fixing them, but then other ones pop up. I heard once that potholes happened in the winter when there is ice and snow. Or maybe it’s the traffic. No, I think it’s the weather. When Emily was in kindergarten, I told her they were dragon footprints. Of course, it didn’t scare her because, as we all know, she likes reptiles.

  Our school is three stories high. On the street side of the building, the bricks are covered with a big mural painted by some local New York artists. It shows a lot of happy kids with books open, sitting and reading happily under a rainbow. They sure didn’t use me as a model.

  When the traffic was clear, Mr. Baker, the crossing guard, took us across the street.

  “That’s a mighty fine looking mountain you got there,” he said to us.

  “It’s Niagara Falls, sir,” I said.

  “Well it’s a mighty fine looking Niagara Falls.”

  That made me feel good. Even though Mr. Baker says nice things to all the kids, I like to think he really did like our project.

  Finally, we reached the main door of PS 87. There were kids swarming all around the school, and we had to be careful not to get crunched. We were attracting a lot of attention.

  “Keep your distance,” I said to a bunch of first-graders who were hovering around us. “Important fourth-grade business coming through.”

  Ashley held the door open for us and we backed into the hall. We started the long climb to the second floor and our classroom. As luck would have it, the first person we saw when we got to the top was Nick McKelty.

  “What is that supposed to be?” he asked in his usual creepoid manner.

  I wasn’t going to let this guy get to me.

  “You just might be the only person in New York not to get it,” I said. “We totally stopped traffic on Amsterdam Avenue. The taxis honked like we were a float in the Thanksgiving Day parade.”

  “Oh yeah?” McKelty said. “I was asked to ride on a float this year.”

  “Right, and my name is Bernice,” Frankie said.

  “In fact,” McKelty went on, “they wanted me to be Santa Claus in the parade, but I said, ‘Sorry, I’m already booked. Maybe next year.’”

  “Breathe,” Frankie said to himself. Then he turned to McKelty. “That’s good,” Frankie said, “because your face would’ve scared all those little kids. It’s such a drag seeing kids cry at a parade.”

  “Oh yeah?” McKelty answered.

  “What a comeback,” said Ashley. “You’re quick, McKelty.”

  From around the corner, we heard the squeak, squeak, squeak of rubber on linoleum. That could only be Principal Love. He always wears these black rubber-soled shoes that close with two Velcro straps. I guess he never learned to tie his laces.

  “What have we here?” he boomed in his tall-man-bushy-hair voice.

  We put Niagara Falls down on the floor.

  “My summer vacation,” I answered.

  Nick stepped right in front of me.

  “Our assignment is to do a five-paragraph essay on what we did this summer,” said Nick. He gave Principal Love a smile that any sane person would describe as very, very icky. “My adventure was so exciting that my essay turned out to be eight paragraphs. And that’s cutting it down from ten.”

  “Mr. McKelty, you’ve got a future.” Principal Love grinned. Then he turned to me. “And as for you, Mr. Zipzer, don’t be late for class.”

  He squeaked off down the hall. McKelty ran after him, continuing to blab in his ear—probably telling him how much he happens to love Velcro straps on shoes.

  “Don’t be late,” I muttered under my breath. “Where does he think I’m going? To the cafeteria for a big breakfast?”

  “Forget him,” said Ashley. “You’ve got to keep your mind on what you’re doing here.”

  I could still see McKelty walking down the hallway, talking to Principal Love like he was his best friend. Then I saw something truly disgusting.

  “I don’t believe it,” I said. “McKelty’s putting his arm around him!”

  The McKelty Factor strikes again.

  The bell rang and Nick came lumbering down the hallway toward us. Just before he turned into the classroom, he stopped and looked at me.

  “I have a wonderful surprise in store for you, Zippity Zipzer,” he said.

  He gave me an annoying flick under the chin, and slithered into class like the slimy snake he is.

  CHAPTER 13

  MS. ADOLF WAS on the prowl. She was hungry for paper.

  “Please take your essays out, class,” she said. “I hope you remembered to staple them in the upper-left-hand corner.”

  She walked up and down the aisles, clutching her roll book close to her chest. When she stopped at my desk, I could feel her hot breath on my head.

  “Your desk appears to be empty, Mr. Zipzer,” she said.

  My heart was pounding. This was the moment.

  “I thought we agreed you were to read your composition first,” she snapped.

  “And I am completely, totally prepared, Ms. Adolf,” I said.

  I looked at Frankie. I gave him a nod. He gave Ashley a nod. The three of us stood and went to our planned positions.

  Ashley took the Saran-wrapped tube and attached it with tape to the fauce
t at the cleanup sink. Frankie and I disappeared into the hall.

  “Excuse me!” Ms. Adolf shouted. I think she was starting to get angry.

  I stuck my head back into the classroom and said, “Get ready for creativity like you’ve never seen before.”

  Out in the hall, we got my costume out of the paper bag. Frankie held the yellow raincoat for me to slip into, and I pulled on the boots and the fisherman’s hat. Then we picked up the project and walked it into the classroom, where we placed it on the sink counter.

  “Exactly what do you think you’re doing?” Ms. Adolf demanded to know.

  “What you’re about to see, Ms. Adolf, is what I did on my summer vacation. My living essay.”

  The kids moved closer so they could see. Ryan Shimozato even stood up on his chair. Katie Sperling and Kim Paulson were whispering to each other and giggling. I noticed that Nick McKelty kept looking at the door to the classroom, like he was expecting someone.

  Before Ms. Adolf could object again, I began.

  “Niagara Falls was formed twelve thousand years ago, but when I visited this summer, it didn’t look a day over eleven thousand. It did, however, look wet—really wet.”

  That was Ashley’s cue. She turned on the faucet at the sink. With a quick twist of the nozzle, the water started to run through our hose and into the hole at the top of the papier-mâché cliff. I was so excited I couldn’t continue. The falls were actually doing what they were supposed to do ... falling! The water hitting the bottom of the turkey pan sounded like rain.

  Ashley turned on the fish tank pump and it started to bubble, moving the water from the bottom of the turkey pan back up to the top of the falls. The boat at the bottom of the pan rose in the water. It was floating! Everything was working!

  “Seven hundred and fifty thousand gallons of water flow over these falls every second,” I said. Old Robert had finally come in handy.

  “Do you see that boat?” I asked, pointing to the LEGO people in it. “Picture my mother, my father, my sister, and me—dressed as I am now, covered with mist.”

  At that moment, Frankie turned on the fan, and a little of the water started to blow toward my raincoat. The kids gasped.

  “Awesome,” said Ryan Shimozato.

  “Truly awesome,” said Justin, Ricky, and Gerald. They’re Ryan’s crew, and they like whatever he likes.

  “Half the falls are in Canada, and the other half are in the United States, making Niagara Falls a link between our two countries,” I went on. I remembered the tour guide had said that while we were waiting in line to get on the boat. I was on a roll. There were so many facts I knew about Niagara Falls, I could’ve gone on until lunch or longer.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Frankie was trying to get my attention. I glanced over at him. He whispered something, but I couldn’t quite understand him. It sounded like “no peeking.” I didn’t know what he was talking about. I shrugged and went on.

  “We left New York City on a muggy August morning,” I said, pretending to be driving in a car. “My mother said it was so hot you could fry eggs on her knees.”

  The kids laughed. They were loving this. I really felt wonderful and successful. Maybe I’ll be a stand-up comedian when I grow up, I thought. Take this show on the road. I looked at Frankie. He wasn’t laughing. Why not?

  Whatever he had been trying to say to me, he said again. “No peeking”? Was that it? I still couldn’t understand him. He sure was flapping his arms around a lot.

  Just then, the door swung open. In walked Leland Love. Wow, this was great. The principal was coming to see my project, just like I had hoped.

  “Tourists from all over the world come to see Niagara Falls,” I said. I was getting more and more confident by the minute. “A couple from Italy asked me to take their picture with the falls in the background,” I added. I hadn’t even planned to tell that part of the story. It just came out.

  Suddenly, Frankie walked in front of me and with an Italian accent said, “I thinka thesa falls are betta than SpaghettiOs.”

  The class howled.

  “SpaghettiOs rule!” laughed Luke Whitman. “SpaghettiOs forget-ios!” It doesn’t take much for Luke to go out of control.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered to Frankie. “You weren’t supposed to talk.”

  “I’ve been trying to tell you,” Frankie whispered. “We’re leaking! Look!”

  I looked over at the hose. Oh, no, this wasn’t happening. The cardboard was soaking wet. The tube was turning to mush and the last piece of tape holding the hose to the cliffs was coming loose. I yelled for Ashley to turn off the water. She ran to the sink, but she was so nervous, she turned the water on full force instead, which totally blew the hose off the project. Water sprayed everywhere, but mostly on Ms. Adolf. She opened her mouth to speak and got a mouthful of falls.

  The hose started to spin around, and the kids all ran for cover, laughing and shouting. Ms. Adolf was so stunned, she just stood there. Bam! She got pelted again with a blast of water. When she put her hands up to her face to block the water, her roll book fell to the floor. It landed in a puddle of water. She gasped and tried to reach for it, but Luke Whitman was running wild and stomped on it, pushing it completely under water.

  Ms. Adolf stared at her roll book. The paper was absorbing water fast and turning into a soggy mess. She opened her mouth wide, like she was going to scream really loudly, but all that came out was a mouse-like “eeeeekkk.”

  Bam! The hose came around again and hit her with another shot of water. She was really wet now. It looked like she had just stepped out of the shower with her clothes on. The pile of gray hair that was always neatly pinned on top of her head fell down and looked like a horse’s tail.

  “The water!” Principal Love yelled. “Someone turn off the water!” The kids were all laughing pretty hard, so no one moved toward the sink. Principal Love bolted across the room. He had to push by Luke Whitman, who was leading a bunch of kids in a rain dance. There was so much water on the floor, the classroom looked like a pond. Pencils, crayons, Ms. Adolf’s roll book, and even a tunafish sandwich in a Baggie floated by.

  Principal Love sloshed over to the sink. As he reached the counter, he stepped on the Baggie. It exploded and the tuna sandwich squished out from under his shoe. It was a slippery mess. Principal Love went sliding on the sandwich like he was on water skis. The last thing I saw before he went swimming was his hand reaching for the counter with the turkey pan on it. As the pan tipped, the papier-mâché flew and the muddy, mushy Niagara Falls landed with a splat all over Mr. Love’s face.

  I didn’t mean to laugh, but I couldn’t stop. In fact, I was laughing so hard that I fell tush-first into the water. Then what do I see but Nick McKelty’s hand reaching out to Mr. Love.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” he said. “I’ll save you.”

  Sometimes I think things happen the way they’re supposed to, because Nick McKelty, suckup of the century, slipped too and went flying headfirst into the muck. When he came up for air, he looked like he had a papier-mâché chicken sitting on his head. He wiped off his face and leaned over to Principal Love.

  “Didn’t I tell you Zipzer was about to launch a disaster?” he said.

  Oh, so that’s why Principal Love came to class. McKelty, that rat, told him to come see me make a fool of myself. And stupid me thought it was because he heard I had a great project.

  Principal Love didn’t say a word. All he did was wag a finger at me. I knew what that meant.

  “I’ll see you in my office... now!”

  CHAPTER 14

  THE HALLWAY IS a lonely place when you’re sitting on the bench outside the principal’s office. Kids you know walk by on the way to the bathroom or the water fountain, but no one says hello to you. No one even looks at you. It’s like you’re wearing a sign around your neck that says TROUBLE—KEEP AWAY.

  I had been waiting in the hall for more than an hour. They were inside—the three of them, Principal Love
and the Zipzers. That would be Stan and Randi. Also known as Mom and Dad.

  It was hard to sit still. I got up and asked Mrs. Crock in the attendance office if I could have a pencil and paper, just to doodle or something.

  “You’re supposed to be using this time to think about what you’ve done,” she said.

  “I think better when I doodle,” I told her.

  “So do I,” she said. She gave me a piece of paper and her pencil. That was nice of her.

  When I went back into the hall, Principal Love was standing outside his office. He didn’t speak—he just wagged his finger, inviting me in. It’s the kind of invitation you don’t say no to.

  As I entered the office, I could tell my father was really angry. I knew that because his butt was hovering above the chair cushion, not quite touching it.

  “Can I say something?” I said.

  “Absolutely not,” answered Principal Love. “I think your actions have spoken loudly enough.”

  I noticed that Principal Love’s office smelled a little like tuna. It must be from his shoes, I thought. He had changed his shirt, but he still had a some papier-mâché stuck to his cheek. It was right above his Statue of Liberty mole. I couldn’t help thinking that the Statue of Liberty finally had a torch.

  “What you did today in class was completely irresponsible,” Principal Love said.

  I turned to my father. He would understand. “But, Dad, what I was trying to do—”

  My father stood up. “Are you aware of the chaos you created, Hank? First of all, you didn’t follow the rules. You can’t just make up your own assignment.”

  “Yes, but I wanted to—”

  “Don’t interrupt your father,” my mother said. I couldn’t believe it. Even Mom was on their side. I thought maybe it was the shoes. She usually wears sandals, but she had put on her black leather loafers, the ones that look like Ms. Adolf’s shoes. She’s not as much fun when she wears those shoes.

  “You were supposed to write an essay. Five paragraphs. That’s with a pencil, Hank. Not papier-mâché.” My father was seriously mad.