Charlie Bingham Gets Clocked

by Maggie M. Larche

  Charlie Bingham Gets Clocked

  By Maggie M. Larche

  Leopold Press

  Copyright © 2015 Maggie M. Larche

  Cover illustration by Bojan Radovanovic

  Chapter 1

  If I’d only gotten ugly old Mrs. Mushwort as my teacher, none of this would have happened. She wore big glasses and had hair on her upper lip, and I never would have fallen in love with her.

  Instead, I got Miss Walker. She had green eyes and a bright smile, and I, Charlie Bingham, had it bad.

  So when I accidentally stole one of her prized possessions, things got messy. Fast.

  Let me set the scene. Midmorning, early in the school year. All of us kids were defining our vocabulary words. Not the most exciting way to spend a morning, that’s for sure, but things were about to pick up. I just didn’t know it yet.

  I sat behind my best friend, Brad. Brad was one of the smartest kids in the class. Book-smart, that is. In other ways, he could be pretty dim. “Sort of thick in the old noodle,” as my mom sometimes said.

  Miss Walker called Brad to her desk. I had nothing better to do than schoolwork, so I watched. Over the past several weeks, I had gradually shifted my desk to face the teacher’s corner, so by then I had a good view.

  Brad took a chair across from Miss Walker.

  “Brad,” started Miss Walker, “I’ve got exciting news for you. How would you like to be on the class Knowledge Bowl team?”

  I grinned. I could tell from Brad’s face that this was not exciting news. And I wasn’t surprised.

  You see, Brad gets nervous. About almost anything. He gets nervous when he forgets his homework, when he meets new kids, even when he has to raise his hand to go to the bathroom. Put him in front of people, though, and he reaches whole new levels of crazy.

  One time he gave a group presentation on the five senses. In the time it took him to walk from his seat to the front of the class, he developed the worst case of hives our school nurse had ever seen. With his bright red rash and gross bumps, it was actually a pretty good lesson on the senses, too.

  So, I knew that the thought of joining the Knowledge Bowl team would make him want to pass out.

  Brad stared at Miss Walker. “I don’t know, Miss Walker. I think you should maybe pick someone else.”

  She smiled. “Now, Brad, I know you’re not always comfortable with these kinds of things, but I think it will be good for you. And you’ll really help out the team. What do you say?”

  Well, what could he say? You don’t tell someone like Miss Walker, “no.”

  Brad looked like he’d been hunted down, but he managed to croak out, “Ok. I guess so.”

  “Wonderful,” she said. “Now let me get your size, so I can order you a team t-shirt.” She moved around some papers on her desk. “Now where did I put that form? Hold on a second, Brad. I think I left it on the podium.”

  “Ok,” he mumbled. She left him sitting at her desk, his head hanging down. I didn’t blame him for being so glum. As if his major stage fright weren’t reason enough, the kids on the knowledge bowl team also had to stay after school for extra practice.

  I shook my head. Poor guy... Poor guy who was, suddenly, behaving very strangely.

  I leaned forward in my seat to watch.

  Brad slumped back in his seat when Miss Walker left. But almost immediately, he shot straight up again. He jerked to the left and, just as quickly, wiggled back to the right. He dug down the back of his shirt with one hand, while the other reached up from the bottom.

  I glanced around the room to see if anyone else noticed, but everyone was busy working. I watched Brad, a little concerned now. Was he going into some sort of fit?

  Then I saw the cause of his antics. A little head poked up from the collar of his shirt.

  Right away I recognized Houdini, Brad’s pet lizard. He was a distinctive lizard because he only had one eye. (I don’t know how it happened, and Houdini’s never mentioned it. Lizards aren’t very chatty.)

  It looked like Houdini escaped from his cage at Brad’s house that morning, which actually happened quite a lot. That’s how he got his name. Brad was originally going to name him Lucky, but how lucky can a lizard be who’s only got one eye? So he settled on Houdini.

  This morning, Houdini apparently wasn’t happy with a simple escape. Oh, no. For the first time, he hitched a ride to school with Brad to see the world.

  I didn’t know how long he’d been hanging out in Brad’s shirt, and I didn’t really want to think about it, if you know what I mean. But Houdini was out now, and he sensed freedom.

  While Brad grabbed at his neck, Houdini made a break for it. He dashed onto Brad’s shoulder, down his arm, and straight onto Miss Walker’s desk. I saw him streak past the giant jar of candy she kept for good behavior before coming to a stop at Miss Walker’s clock.

  Let me explain. Miss Walker had an old-timey alarm clock on her desk – one of those clocks with the two bells on top that sounds like a full-scale fire alarm when it goes off. We’re talking crazy loud. (Between you and me, the first time I heard it, I almost peed my pants.) She liked to use the clock in the classroom as a timer for tests, recess, things like that.

  It was this very alarm clock that Houdini chose for his new home. As far as I could tell, the lizard curled right up inside one of the alarm bells. I couldn’t see him, he fit so neatly into the tiny space.

  Brad yelped, but it was too late. Houdini was out of sight, and Miss Walker was back. She settled into in her chair, none the wiser that she now shared her workspace with a reptile out on the town.

  Or was Houdini an amphibian? Sometimes I think I should pay more attention in school. But just sometimes.

  “Ok, so what size T-shirt do you wear?” she asked.

  “Medium,” mumbled Brad. While Miss Walker filled out the form, I watched him lean to the side to try and get a view inside the alarm clock bells.

  “Are you ok?” asked Miss Walker.

  Brad snapped back up. “Yep. I’m fine.”

  Just when I thought the show couldn’t get more interesting, our music teacher, Mr. Wainwright, entered the room. He walked to Miss Walker’s desk and blocked my view with a large box that he carried.

  How should I describe Mr. Wainwright? Let’s just say that I was pretty sure he’d given up a career in professional boxing before he decided to teach music. His biceps were the size of my head, and he always had a mean look in his bulging eyes.

  He also had this habit of paying Miss Walker too much attention. A bad habit, in my view, but Miss Walker didn’t seem to mind.

  “Good morning,” he said. He leaned over with a goofy smile on his face.

  “Oh, hello, Larry. I mean, Mr. Wainwright,” said Miss Walker, with a little giggle.

  I shook my head. How can a guy like that be named Larry?

  “I just came by to drop off these jingle bells. We’re using them in this afternoon’s music lesson. Do you mind if I leave them in here?”

  “Of course. You can drop them off at the front of the room. I’ll show you the best spot.” She stood up. “Brad, go back to your seat, please.”

  The box of jingle bells chimed as the two teachers walked, and I could no longer hear everything they said. It was very annoying.

  Brad, meanwhile, appeared to be in a big hurry. He rushed back to his seat, clutching his stomach as if he were about to be sick. Was he upset about Houdini? Was he mad about the knowledge bowl team? Was he about to barf all over me?

  Turns out it was none of the above. For to my horror, when Brad got to his desk, I saw him lean over and drop something into his backpack. My eyes widened.

  “Did you just take Miss Walker’s alarm clock?”
I hissed.

  Chapter 2

  Ever since school started, I tried my best to make a good impression on Miss Walker.

  I raised my hand for every question she asked. Even the ones I didn’t know the answer to, which was a lot of them. It could be a little embarrassing, but I kept at it.

  I cleaned erasers so often that my hair usually turned white with chalk dust by the time I went home. Mom made me start using dandruff shampoo. Also embarrassing.

  Finally, I volunteered to wind her clock every day.

  Sounds weird, right? You see, for some reason, Miss Walker loved her alarm clock. Really loved it. Everyone had their own theory about why. My personal favorite was that the clock used to belong to the author of the Carolina Park, Girl Detective series, and so Miss Walker kept it as a celebrity souvenir. But for all I knew, the clock might have just been in her room as a kid.

  Whatever the reason, she loved that thing, so I volunteered to help keep it running. It was an old clock, so you had to wind it every now and then, or it would stop ticking. So every day at the end of school, I wound the gear in the back of it so that the clock would tick for the next twenty-four hours.

  As a result, I knew that clock pretty well, and I was darn sure it wasn’t supposed to be stuffed into the bottom of Brad’s book bag.

  I peeked at the teachers. Mr. Wainwright appeared to be humming a few bars, and Miss Walker laughed. I pursed my lips in frustration before turning back to Brad.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. “You can’t steal from a teacher!”

  Brad turned around. “Did you see? Houdini got loose!”

  “I saw,” I said. “But so what?”

  “I had to get Houdini out, and I couldn’t just hang out at Miss Walker’s desk.” Brad leaned down to his backpack and fumbled inside. I could just see him turn the alarm clock in his hands.

  Moments later, he turned back to me, panic-stricken. “He’s gone!”

  “Houdini?”

  “Yes, Houdini! Where did he go?” Brad quickly searched around his desk, but there was no sign of his pet.

  “I don’t know, Brad, but you’ve got to put that clock back. As in, right now.”

  Miss Walker and Mr. Wainwright chose that moment to stroll back to her corner.

  “Too late,” I said.

  “Psst,” interrupted the girl who sat next to me. Her name was Alyssa, and we’d been friends since we were in preschool.

  “Charlie, you’re supposed to be doing your vocab. What are you guys talking about?”

  “Shh,” I said to her and held up my paper. “I’m trying to work.”

  “Yeah, right,” she said. She rolled her eyes but turned back to her paper. I knew she didn’t believe me, but she left me alone anyway. Friends do that.

  Brad turned back to the front, and I reluctantly went back to staring at my work.

  After a moment, however, I had to poke Brad in the back. He turned around again. “What?”

  “Brad, I can hear it ticking.”

  Brad cocked his head to the side. “Oh, man.” He pulled his red sweatshirt off, revealing a bright blue t-shirt underneath. He stuck the shirt into his backpack, and I could just make out him wrapping it around the clock.

  He turned back to me.

  “Better?”

  I listened and then nodded. “Yeah, great. Now you’ll never get caught for stealing Miss Walker’s favorite clock.”

  “Shut up, Charlie. And keep an eye out for Houdini. He’s around here somewhere.”

  I went back to my vocabulary and actually managed to define a word. Just one, but it was something. “Ludicrous,” I read. “Crazy. Over the top.” I had to use it in a sentence.

  I muttered as I wrote. “Mr. Wainwright’s muscles are ludicrous.”

  Right then, a loud beeping came over the intercom.

  Miss Walker finally stopped chatting with Mr. Wainwright and faced the students.

  “Oh, I completely forgot. Students, we’re having a tornado drill today. Please line up at the door.”

  “Yes!” I shouted as I jumped up from my chair. There is nothing better than a weather drill to hold up schoolwork. I dashed to the classroom door to be the first in line.

  Miss Walker held up her hands as I flew by her. “Walk to the door, please. Just walk.”

  Mr. Wainwright passed me and raised his eyebrow. “It’s only a drill, Charlie,” he rumbled. “What’s the rush?”

  I glowered at him as he left the room, but he didn’t even seem to notice. Can you believe that guy?

  After we all lined up, we were led into the hallway where we plopped down along the wall. Mrs. Mushwort – Remember her? Old lady with the hairy lip? – Mrs. Mushwort patrolled up and down the hallway, her orthopedic shoes squishing with each step.

  She checked our classroom door as she passed by.

  “Miss Walker,” she said in her gravelly voice, “you’ve left a student behind.”

  “What?” Miss Walker trotted briskly to the door. “Brad!” she exclaimed. “Come out here. You know how these drills work. We need 100% participation.”

  “Sorry,” said Brad as he walked into the hallway. “I had to blow my nose.” He joined the rest of us on the floor where we happily wasted a good fifteen minutes.

  Someone started a game of telephone, and I’d just passed on the phrase, “Don’t tell Mom that the goose ate the potato” to my right, when the kid to my left tugged on my sleeve.

  Martin was a new kid in the school. He was quiet and klutzy, but he seemed to be an all-around good guy.

  Martin whispered to me, “Mrs. Mushwort has a lizard on her back.”

  “Hey, good one,” I said. I turned to my right to whisper it to my neighbor when Martin tugged on my sleeve again.

  “No, Charlie! For real.” He pointed at Mrs. Mushwort. She stood with Mr. Wainwright in front of a large poster of the school honor code. I had a clear view of her back, and, sure enough, I saw Houdini pointed straight downward, like a rock climber contemplating a difficult slope he was about to tackle.

  We watched, frozen, as the lizard ventured farther down her body, his throat billowing open and closed as he explored. Right when I thought Houdini was going to escape safely to the floor, he apparently changed his mind. Instead he leapt from one leg to another – from Mrs. Mushwort’s stockinged leg right to Mr. Wainwright’s trousers.

  Martin and I stared at each other, both too surprised, I think, to know what to do.

  Just then, a voice came over the intercom and announced the end of the tornado drill. All around us, students groaned and stood. They trudged as a group back to the classrooms.

  “I’ve got to get that lizard,” I said to Martin. I fought against the tide of kids, struggling to reach Mr. Wainwright before Houdini escaped again.

  “Keep moving,” I heard the music teacher say. “Time to get back to class.” He herded a mob of giggling girls down the passageway.

  I ducked down and pretended to tie my shoe.

  “Move on, Charlie.”

  I peered up from my crouch. “Yes, sir. Just fixing my shoe.” As I lowered my eyes, I spotted Houdini right behind Mr. Wainwright’s knee.

  As he turned his head away, I stretched my hand out toward his pant leg. Trying not to think about what the brawny teacher would do if he noticed me pawing his leg, I slowly reached for the lizard. My fingers were about to close around Houdini, when something rammed into me. I fell to my side, and Houdini disappeared.

  “Oops, sorry,” said Martin, loudly. “I didn’t see you on the ground.” He bent down and whispered, “I’m here to help. Where’s the lizard?”

  I sighed. “He’s gone now.”

  Mr. Wainwright continued to walk away. Painfully, I got up, and Martin and I walked back to the classroom. The other students were already seated. Miss Walker rummaged around her desk.

  I dropped into my seat, defeated. What a morning. Then I noticed something felt off.

  Before the drill, I left my backpack tucked neatly
under my chair. Now it lay on its side in the walkway, partially open.

  I reached down and scooped it up.

  The bag felt oddly heavy.

  I cracked open the bag and peeked inside.

  On top of my books, I saw Brad’s red sweatshirt, wrapped around an object that I knew all too well.

  Chapter 3

  My mind raced. I had been betrayed, and by my best friend, too.

  I glared at Brad. He pointedly stared down at his sheet of paper and ignored me. I cleared my throat loudly. He still didn’t look up.

  Why did Brad drop the clock into my book bag? And, to think, I just tried to save the guy’s lizard! What was I supposed to do now?

  On one hand, I wanted to give the clock back to Miss Walker. I did love her, after all.

  On the other hand, I didn’t want her to think that I was the one who stole it. Because… well, again, because I loved her.

  Yep, Brad had landed me in a sticky position.

  And it was about to get stickier. Just at that moment, I heard Miss Walker say, “Oh, dear.” I turned to see her searching all over her desk.

  She lifted her head and spoke to the class.

  “Students, has anyone seen my alarm clock? It should have been here on my desk, but now it’s gone.”

  I shoved my backpack further under my chair and assumed my most innocent expression. For once, I hoped that Miss Walker wouldn’t notice me.

  The kids in the class all searched around their feet for the clock, as if the clock had just gone for a walk.

  At this point, Alyssa came to my rescue.

  She raised her hand. “Maybe Mr. Wainwright borrowed it. I’ve heard him admire it before.”

  That was true. Mr. Wainwright had admired Miss Walker’s clock. But he’d also praised her candy jar, her singing voice, and her lesson plan organization. There wasn’t much about Miss Walker that Mr. Wainwright didn’t admire. It was one of the things that really bugged me about him.

  Miss Walker thought for a moment. “Yes, that’s true.” She brightened. “Thank you, Alyssa. I think that’s the most likely explanation. I’ll check with him at lunch.” She clapped her hands. “Ok, now, let’s go ahead and pack up for the cafeteria. Form your line, please.”