The Amazing Wilmer Dooley

by Fowler DeWitt

  Mr. Dooley hurried off, narrowly avoiding three sprinting kids as he weaved his way across the crowded lobby.

  Ernie pointed. “Over there. Three o’clock. Claudius Dill.”

  Claudius stood across the room. Wilmer stared darts at his nemesis. He wished he could throw darts at him, too—but his eyes would need to suffice. Claudius chatted with a kid who shared Claudius’s straight dark hair, swampy green eyes, and despicable scowl. In fact, they were practically twins, except that this new kid was much heavier than Claudius and better dressed, with ironed slacks and a bow tie.

  As if having one Claudius-sized Claudius wasn’t bad enough, Wilmer dreaded meeting an extra-large, fancier version of him.

  Next to regular Claudius and plump Claudius stood a tall, imposing-looking man. Wilmer recognized him as the famous Dr. Fernando Dill, Claudius’s father and the World’s Greatest Doctor, according to a recent award.

  Claudius looked at Wilmer. Wilmer stared back at Claudius. Claudius sneered. Wilmer sneered too. If the heat of hate was as hot as the sun, which is approximately ten thousand degrees Fahrenheit on its surface according to most calculations, the whole room would have melted on the spot.

  Claudius seethed, steam practically rising from his ears like an overheated teapot. Wilmer Dooley! The name sat in his craw like a lump of stale green gelatin. Claudius knew Wilmer was invited to the consortium weekend, but he had hoped Wilmer would have gotten lost, been sick, overslept, or better still, been eaten by armadillos.

  But no such luck!

  Wilmer—that show-off—was probably here to brag:

  Look at me! I cured Mumpley Middle School! I’m good and kind and help people, because kittens are fuzzy and warm blankets are snuggly.

  It was enough to make a guy sick.

  “The Amazing Wilmer Dooley,” that’s what the papers were calling him now. Simply horrible. “Amazing” and “Wilmer” didn’t belong together in the same sentence, unless that sentence was, “Everyone hates the amazingly annoying Wilmer Dooley.”

  And what had Wilmer done to be anointed “amazing,” anyway? Save a few hundred kids from certain death? Big deal. Wilmer didn’t even deserve to attend this science weekend. But Claudius did. He’d earned his invitation by coming to school every Friday during summer vacation and emptying Mrs. Padgett’s garbage can. True, it was already empty since no one attended school over the summer. Still, he needed to make amends. He had momentarily revolted against Mrs. Padgett and joined alliances with Wilmer to save the school last year. That had been a lapse of judgment. All it did was make Wilmer a hero.

  But Claudius was a hero too! It was so unfair—not even a single magazine article had been written about him.

  Well, no. There had been one article: “People Who Know Wilmer Dooley but Who Are Otherwise Unimportant.” Claudius was quoted as saying, “Wilmer Dooley is my hero. I’m his biggest fan. I am! I am!” Upon reading it, Claudius had ripped the article into tiny shreds and then gagged. They had it terribly wrong! What he had actually said was, “Wilmer Dooley? I’m eating a hero,” referring to the ham-and-cheese sub sandwich he had ordered at the deli, which had a broken air conditioner. “This place needs a bigger fan. I love ham! I love ham!” He should have known the reporter would get it wrong. That Gwendolyn Bray, the star news reporter, was barely paying attention when Claudius spoke. She was too busy primping her hair and playing with her old-fashioned tape recorder.

  Claudius needed to put Wilmer in his place. He would start by winning the science fair this weekend, if only because that meant Wilmer wouldn’t. First place was a brand-new, top-of-the-line 1,000X binocular compound digital microscope with a 360-degree swiveling head and multidimensional time-lapse imaging. Quite pricey, actually. Claudius had four of them at home. But he wanted to win first place to make Wilmer squirm, not for any stupid prize.

  Claudius’s cousin Vlad stood next to him. He was transferring to Mumpley Middle School this year. Vlad was quite the scientist, or so Dr. Dill had often said.

  Vlad and Claudius had worked together on their science fair project. Claudius had wanted to power a lightbulb with a potato, but Vlad had a different idea. Claudius had to admit, his cousin’s plan was better. And more diabolical.

  Claudius grinned to himself. He loved to carry out sinister schemes. He even wore an EVIL GENIUS T-shirt under his sweater.

  Dr. Dill put his arms around Vlad and Claudius. The science consortium needed parent chaperones, and Claudius’s father had surprisingly volunteered. Dr. Dill was normally too busy to do anything involving Claudius, including paying attention to him, or remembering his birthday or his name. “Looking forward to the weekend, Clavicle?” he asked.

  “That’s Claudius, Dad,” said Claudius.

  “ ‘Claudius Dad.’ What a strange name. Are you sure? Well, you should know,” muttered Dr. Dill. “Just try to be more like your cousin and I’m sure you’ll do fine.” He gave Vlad a hearty clap on the back.

  “Thanks, Dr. Dill,” said Vlad, straightening his bow tie.

  The sounds of Beethoven’s ninth symphony flew from the doctor’s sports jacket pocket, and he quickly fished out his mobile. “Good thing I have my special phone. I get reception everywhere!” He answered the call. “Dr. Dill here . . . He has a severe case of Bottle Neck? I see. Is he congested?” He turned his back on the boys and wandered away, deep in conversation.

  Vlad pointed across the floor and Claudius followed his cousin’s outstretched finger. If it were a laser beam, it would have bored a hole right through Wilmer Dooley. “Isn’t that Dooley?” he asked. Claudius had told his cousin of his hatred for Wilmer. “Is he waving us over?”

  Wilmer had his hand up and was waving. Ugh. He probably thought they were friends now. Claudius shivered. Well, he might as well get this over with—they would be seeing Wilmer all weekend.

  But Claudius had plans. He wouldn’t only win first place; he would put Wilmer in his place, too. Claudius giggled at the thought of his devious scheme. He reached under his sweater to feel the bottom of his hidden EVIL GENIUS T-shirt.

  Vlad eyed Claudius, smiled, and then echoed Claudius’s cackle.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A Love Poem for Roxie McGhee

  By Wilmer Dooley

  I think that I shall never see

  A girl as lovely as Roxie McGhee.

  With eyes of blue and hair of gold,

  Our love will grow like common slime mold.

  Note: needs work. Is there a better word for “gold”?

  Wilmer watched regular Claudius and plump Claudius amble over. Why were they approaching? Did they think he had waved them over? Wilmer had merely yawned and stretched his arm.

  “And who are you?” asked Ernie, shooting Vlad an evil eye. “Claudius’s extra-large clone?”

  Vlad tugged his bow tie and returned the evil glare, but with considerably more nastiness. Ernie gasped and shrank back. “I’m your worst nightmare. My name is Vladimir Despicopovitz. My cousin and I are going to win the science fair this weekend. And I promise you it will blow your mind.” He giggled. Claudius giggled even harder.

  Wilmer eyed Vlad and Claudius carefully. Those two were up to something, and that meant they were up to something bad. He would have to keep an even closer eye on them than he’d planned.

  But Wilmer didn’t want to keep his eyes on the two troublemakers right then. He much preferred to keep them on Roxie, who was walking up with a friendly hello.

  She wore a pink sweater and pink headband. She reminded Wilmer of a fragrant pink rose, glistening on a meadow under the dazzling rays of the morning sun, and a bunch of other gooey things. Headphones hung around her neck. She also held a microphone, and had a small electronic gadget strapped to her waist. She noticed the boys staring at it.

  “Do you like this? It’s a tape recorder. It’s practically an antique, but it’s just like the one Gwendolyn Bray uses. She’s my hero, you know.” Her voice rang like a delicate glass bell, its chime dancing softly in Wilmer
’s ear canals. “We’re here at the state science fair! Can you believe it? I bet you guys will do great. Especially you, Wilmer.” Wilmer blushed and looked down at his sneakers, before daring to sneak a peek back up.

  Roxie smiled at Wilmer. He smiled back. Well, actually, he tried to smile back, but he wanted to shoot her a particularly handsome and suave smile so he tried curling his lip, but feared it looked more like a deranged sneer than a smile. Roxie seemed confused and glanced away. Wilmer bit his lip to keep it from curling again.

  “Where are my manners? Do you guys know Harriet Scruggs?” said Roxie. She stepped to the side, revealing a small, mousy girl standing behind her.

  So this was the sixth grader who had been nominated from Mumpley Middle School: child prodigy Harriet Scruggs.

  Wilmer glared at her. Harriet had recently won a major national science award. She would be Wilmer’s stiffest competition this weekend.

  She wore a pink sweater and pink headband that were sort of like Roxie’s, except the sweater was too long and the headband was a different, uglier shade of pink. She had an impossibly large nose and giant teeth that hung over her bottom lip.

  Harriet gave a small wave. “Ar-ar-are you the Amazing Wilmer Dooley?” she stuttered.

  Wilmer nodded and narrowed his eyes as he faced this new threat to his first-place science-fair-winning destiny. “What’s it to you?”

  “It’s an honor. A complete honor to me!” she exclaimed, shaking Wilmer’s hand with such force that Wilmer thought his arm might be torn out of its socket and flung across the room. “How you saved the school . . . the pure scientific genius . . . wow! You’re my hero!”

  Wilmer was speechless. He hadn’t expected this greeting.

  “How does it feel to be the greatest kid scientist in the world?” she continued. “Do you feel different from normal kids? Does your brain weigh more? The average human brain weighs three pounds, so yours must weight four or five pounds, right? Oh, what am I saying? Of course you haven’t weighed your own brain! At least I hope not, because that would be impossible. Maybe I can weigh it for you? Of course I can’t. Stop me. I don’t know what I’m saying. You’re so much handsomer in real life than I pictured. I don’t know what I pictured. But you’re smart and handsome and do you work out? You must. Look at those muscles. You’re amazing.”

  Wilmer’s jaw dropped. He had never been accused of having muscles before, and was pretty sure he didn’t have any. He snuck a peek at Roxie. She looked at him and Harriet, frowning. But before he could ask what was wrong, Harriet jumped right into his line of sight, blocking his view, and then collapsed to the floor.

  Wilmer gasped and quickly bent down. He put his hand under Harriet’s prone head and lifted it gently. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t move. “Harriet, are you all right?”

  She opened her eyes and blinked. “I am now. Sorry. I’m just so overwhelmed by how amazing you are. The Amazing Wilmer Dooley. You must have girls faint around you all the time.”

  Wilmer shook his head. “Once I made my brother Sherman hiccup by sneaking up behind him, but I don’t think that’s the same thing.”

  Harriet laughed, a bit too loudly. “You’re simply amazing, you Amazing Wilmer Dooley, you.”

  “Um, will you stop calling me ‘amazing’?” asked Wilmer.

  “Then I’ll call you the Fantastically Perfect Wilmer Dooley.”

  “I think I liked ‘amazing’ better,” said Wilmer, squirming.

  Harriet burst out into a loud laugh. “And you’re funny, too!”

  “Sure, he’s funny. Funny-looking,” said Ernie with a chuckle. Wilmer scowled.

  Roxie cleared her throat. “So. Anyway.” She was still frowning at Harriet and Wilmer. “What do you guys think about the hotel? Have you noticed all the loudspeakers?” She pointed to the long line of speakers against the walls and ceilings. There were dozens. “I wonder if they have a broadcast room. Do you think they’ll let me air my radio show here this weekend? Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

  Wilmer nodded enthusiastically until Harriet tapped him on the arm. “Forget about me?” she asked. Forgetting her would have been impossible, since she was now standing an inch away and on her tiptoes, staring up into Wilmer’s eyes.

  “I heard you won first place in some science award thingy,” said Ernie to Harriet.

  Harriet nodded and turned to Ernie, while still keeping one eye on Wilmer. “I won the Grand Newtonian in the national Newton Physics Awards. My Grand Newtonian project was on the power of sound, demonstrating how measuring sound frequency and amplitude can produce . . .”

  Harriet stopped when she noticed Ernie staring blankly. “Sorry. You lost me at ‘Newton,’ ” admitted a dazed Ernie. “But I really like Fig Newtons.”

  “Ernie’s not really into science,” explained Wilmer.

  “Well, I can’t blame him for being bored,” said Harriet. “Physics is so yesterday.” She focused her full attention once again on Wilmer, gazing up into his nose from her short height. “Bacteria are hot right now. I simply love studying bacteria.”

  “Me too,” said Wilmer.

  “Oh, I know.” Harriet sighed.

  Wilmer looked away and noticed many of the kids around the lobby were watching him. He checked to see if his fly was unzipped.

  Harriet leaned in. “They’re staring because you’re a star! Everyone has heard of you.”

  Two tall girls with curly, strawberry hair and thick glasses stood next to them. They appeared to be twins. Their shirts read, SCIENCE TECH PREPARATORY MIDDLE SCHOOL FOR PEOPLE WITH GIANT BRAINS. “Look, Tizzy,” said one, frowning. “That’s Wilmer Dooley. He doesn’t look that tough.”

  Tizzy eyed Wilmer up and down, so that he felt like a lab mouse. “You’re right, Lizzy. He doesn’t look tough at all.”

  They both turned away with a sniff. Wilmer shrank.

  “They’re just jealous,” Harriet whispered into his ear, as if she could read his mind. “I think you’re very tough-looking. But in a good way.”

  Wilmer coughed awkwardly. He didn’t really want all this attention. But maybe—just maybe—Harriet was on to something. Wilmer had saved Mumpley Middle School, after all. It had been his genius that had found the cure to the plague. He was tough. Kids should be jealous of him.

  Wilmer smoothed out his sweater vest, puffed out his chest just a smidgen, and stood a tiny bit taller. Ernie frowned at him. Roxie snarled. What was wrong with them?

  “Let them envy you,” whispered Harriet. “After all, you’re the Amazing Wilmer Dooley.”

  Wilmer nodded.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  To: Wilmer Dooley

  Congratulations. You have been nominated by

  Mrs. Valveeta Padgett

  (it wasn’t my idea, though)

  to attend the 45th Annual State Science Fair and Consortium,

  the most prestigious and exclusive science consortium in the state, for incoming seventh graders only and some select sixth graders, maybe.

  August 6–8 at the

  Sac à Puces Palladium, Lodge, and Resortlike Hotel*.

  By invitation only.

  All electronic gadgets will be confiscated and returned at the end of the weekend.

  *New fancy-sounding location

  The loudspeakers—all four dozen or so of them—crackled. At first, Wilmer thought a canary was screaming in his ear. Then he realized a speaker was positioned only inches above his head. He covered his ears.

  “Attention, dear, dear students,” blared a voice, after an eerily off-tune screech. The man, or maybe it was a woman, sounded muffled and garbled and echoed, as if he or she spoke through a rag while eating a peanut butter sandwich inside a heating duct. Wilmer couldn’t even be sure if it was an adult or a kid speaking. “Please make your way to the center of the lobby,” boomed the unknown announcer. “Like good boys and girls. Like very good boys and girls.” It was followed by a small chuckle, and then the speakers crackled one more time and went silent.
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br />   Wilmer rubbed his ears. Even though he had covered them, they hurt from the noise. The announcement had been so loud that it clouded his brain, but the feeling quickly subsided.

  Luckily, Wilmer had earplugs in his pocket. It was one of the random science tools he carried with him at all times, like his empty test tube (courtesy of Mrs. Padgett’s biology lab). A scientist was never sure when he would need to examine something carefully and in silence. He would be more prepared the next time those loudspeakers squawked.

  Wilmer stepped forward and his friends followed. But where were Claudius and Vlad? They had been here a few moments ago.

  They were probably lurking about somewhere. Claudius was a big-time lurker. Wilmer assumed Vlad was too.

  Just up ahead in the middle of the lobby stood a tall, thin woman on a small raised platform. She wore a smart black business suit. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Wilmer thought it was Valveeta Padgett, sixth-grade biology teacher and brand-new television personality. But no, it couldn’t be, because his teacher stood next to the platform. Both women had their arms clasped, towering over the students.

  “Welcome, my darling children,” spoke the woman on the box. “I am Elvira Padgett, but please call me Elvira. Think of me as your friend, your best friend in the entire world. We can borrow each other’s jeans, except I doubt we’re the same size. I hope I can meet all of you, but it’s a lot of work heading an entire science consortium weekend. I’m sure you can barely imagine the planning and so forth that’s needed. Science sure is complicated, and I’m a hotel manager, not a scientist, so I know very little about sciency things. You kids sure are smart. I wonder how much your brains would weigh, if all weighed together.”

  Harriet turned to Wilmer. “I like her.”

  “So I am thrilled to welcome all of you, our future scientists, our best and brightest!” Elvira continued. “You should all be proud to be here. Bravo to you!”

  Wilmer cheered along with the rest of the kids. He was proud to be there.