by Dan Gutman
“Not violins, Arlo! Violence!”
Finally, Mrs. Meyer stopped hitting the smoke detector. She was sweating and shaking and panting. There were little pieces of smoke detector all over the floor. I thought one of them might start beeping again, but everything was quiet.
“Well, thank you for that informative lesson about fire safety,” said Mr. Cooper. “And I think we all learned a new use for fire extinguishers.”
Mrs. Meyer wiped off her face and said she had to go talk to the other classes.
“One more thing,” she said when she reached the door. “It’s time to replace your smoke detector. This one is broken.”
And then she left.
Mrs. Meyer is weird.
We were sitting in Mr. Cooper’s class the next day. He told us to turn to page twenty-three in our math books. And you’ll never believe in a million hundred years what happened at that moment.
Lights started flashing! Sirens started screaming! And Mrs. Meyer came into the room.
Mr. Cooper rolled his eyes. He put his math book down.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of your company today, Mrs. Meyer?” he asked.
“I have a joke for you,” said Mrs. Meyer.
Oh no, not another joke!
“What did the firefighter name her twin sons?” she asked.
“I give up,” said Ryan.
“I give up,” said Michael.
“I give up,” said Alexia.
In case you were wondering, everybody was saying they give up.
“She named her first son José,” said Mrs. Meyer, “and she named her second son Hose B! Get it?”
I didn’t get it. Why would somebody name their son after a hose? Mrs. Meyer’s jokes are terrible. But I pretended to laugh anyway because everybody else was laughing.
“Yesterday we talked about preventing fires,” said Mrs. Meyer. “Today I’d like to talk about what you should do if there is a fire in your house.”
Mrs. Meyer had lots of good advice. She told us that before opening a door, we should touch the doorknob and put our hand on the crack around the door. If you feel heat, there may be fire on the other side of the door. She also told us that if your room is on fire, you should stay low to the floor because smoke rises. The air you can breathe will be near the floor. She sure knew a lot about fire.
“Now, let’s say your clothes catch on fire, and you don’t have a fire extinguisher,” said Mrs. Meyer. “What should you do?”
Andrea was saying “Oooooh oooooh ooooh” and waving her hand around like she was cleaning a big window with a rag. But Mrs. Meyer called on me instead. So nah-nah-nah boo-boo on Andrea.
“If your clothes catch on fire,” I said, “you should get new clothes.”
Everybody laughed even though I didn’t say anything funny.
“Uh, no,” said Mrs. Meyer.
Hmmm. I decided to guess again.
“If your clothes catch on fire, you should run,” I said.
“Actually, that’s the worst thing to do,” said Mrs. Meyer. “Running will fan the flames and make things worse.”
Andrea smiled the smile she smiles whenever I get something wrong. Then she stuck her tongue out at me. Why can’t a truck full of flaming clothes fall on her head?
“If your clothes catch on fire,” Mrs. Meyer told us, “stop what you’re doing. Drop to the ground. Cover your face with your hands. And roll over and over again until the flames are out.”
“That makes sense,” said Mr. Cooper.
“Stop, drop, and roll!” shouted Mrs. Meyer. “Repeat after me. Stop, drop, and roll!”
“Stop, drop, and roll!” we all chanted. “Stop, drop, and roll!”
“That’s right!” said Mrs. Meyer. “And let’s say your bedroom is on fire, and there’s smoke everywhere. What do you do?”
“Hide in your closet!” I shouted.
“Actually, that’s the worst place to go,” said Mrs. Meyer.
Andrea stuck her tongue out at me again.
“If your bedroom is on fire,” said Mrs. Meyer, “fall and crawl! Repeat after me. Fall and crawl!”
“Fall and crawl!” we all chanted. “Fall and crawl!”
“If there’s a fire in your house, don’t hide. Go outside!” said Mrs. Meyer. “Repeat after me. Don’t hide. Go outside!”
“Don’t hide. Go outside!” we all chanted. “Don’t hide. Go outside!”
Sheesh, Mrs. Meyer must really like chanting.
“Okay, now let’s pretend there’s a fire right here in this classroom,” said Mrs. Meyer. “You touched the door. It’s really hot. You need to find another way out. What are you going to do?”
“Stop, drop, and roll!” shouted Neil the nude kid. “Stop, drop, and roll!”
“Fall and crawl!” shouted Emily.
“Don’t hide. Go outside!” shouted Alexia.
“That’s right!” said Mrs. Meyer. “Go outside. Follow me, kids!”
And you’ll never guess in a million hundred years what happened next.
I’m not going to tell you.
Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.
Mrs. Meyer jumped out the window!
That’s right! She jumped right out the window! We saw it with our own eyes!
Well, duh, it would be hard to see it with somebody else’s eyes.
Mrs. Meyer sure is lucky that our classroom is on the first floor of the school. If it was on the third floor, jumping out the window would have been a really dumb move.
We were all too shocked to do anything. Mrs. Meyer was standing on the grass outside our classroom, waving for us to follow her.
“I’m not jumping out the window,” said Andrea.
“Me neither,” said Emily, who always agrees with everything Andrea says.
“Let’s go!” shouted Mrs. Meyer. “Your classroom is on fire! There’s smoke everywhere! What are you waiting for? Don’t hide. Go outside!”
Then she started blowing a whistle.
I looked at Michael. Michael looked at Ryan. Ryan looked at Neil. Neil looked at Alexia. Alexia looked at Mr. Cooper.
That’s when the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened.
Mr. Cooper jumped out the window!
“Hurry up!” Mr. Cooper shouted at us. “The building is going up in flames! Quick, before it’s too late!”
“Go! Go! Go!” shouted Mrs. Meyer, blowing her whistle over and over.
So we all jumped out the window. Even Andrea and Emily. It was cool.
We were sitting in class the next day, minding our own business. Mr. Cooper told us to open our math books. But then, suddenly, lights started flashing. Sirens started screaming. And you’ll never believe who ran into the door at that moment.
Nobody! Why would you run into a door? That would hurt. I thought we went over that in chapter 3.
But you’ll never believe who ran into the doorway.
No, it wasn’t Mrs. Meyer. Ha! You thought it was Mrs. Meyer. But it wasn’t. So nah-nah-nah boo-boo on you.
Actually, it wasn’t a person who ran into the doorway. It was a bear! And the bear was wearing a hat and holding a shovel!
Everybody started yelling and screaming and shrieking and hooting and hollering and hiding under their desks and generally freaking out.
“Eeeeeeek!” went all the girls.
“There’s a bear in the class!” shouted Ryan.
“Help!” shouted Neil. “Run for your lives!”
Actually, this wasn’t the first time a bear came into our school. One time my job was to be the door closer, but I forgot to close the door and a bear walked right into the gym! You should have been there!*
The point is, bears come into our school pretty frequently.
“Eeeeeeek!”
“Stop!” shouted the bear, holding its hand up. “Wait! Calm down!”
That was weird. Since when do bears talk? And since when do bears wear hats and carry shovels?
“Something tells me that is not
a real bear,” said Mr. Cooper.
“I think it might be Mrs. Meyer in a bear costume,” said Ryan. “It sounds just like her.”
“Are you Mrs. Meyer?” Andrea asked the bear.
“Meyer?” said the bear. “Never heard of her. My name is Woodsy the Bear.”
Woodsy the Bear? That’s a weird name. It was obvious that Woodsy was a bear. He didn’t need to have the last name Bear. That would be like me calling myself A.J. the Human.
“I’m here to teach you how to prevent forest fires,” said Woodsy the Bear.
Everybody calmed down. Woodsy said we should always build our campfires fifteen feet away from tents, shrubs, trees, or branches that could catch on fire. Then he said to get rid of grass, twigs, and leaves in the area. He told us to circle the fire pit with rocks and to keep a bucket of water and a shovel nearby in case of emergency. Woodsy gave us lots of good advice about making a campfire in the woods. Then he told us that he had to go talk to the other classes.
“Wow, you sure know a lot about preventing forest fires,” I told Woodsy. “You probably know as much as Mrs. Meyer.”
“Remember,” Woodsy told me, “only you can prevent forest fires.”
Only me? Wow, that’s a lot of pressure. I started getting nervous.
“What about Ryan?” I asked. “Can’t he prevent forest fires?”
“Well, yes, Ryan too,” said Woodsy the Bear. “I really must go visit the other classes now.”
“How about Neil?” I asked. “Can Neil prevent forest fires?”
“Uh, yeah,” said Woodsy the Bear. “I suppose Neil can also prevent forest fires. Look, I’m sorry, but I must go.”
“And Michael?” I asked. “Can he prevent forest fires?”
“Yeah. Sure. Anybody can,” said Woodsy impatiently.
“Then why didn’t you say so?” I asked.
“It’s just an expression,” said Woodsy the Bear. “When I said only you can prevent forest fires, I meant everybody can prevent forest fires.”
That made no sense at all. If he meant everybody can prevent forest fires, he should have said that in the first place. It was like when Mrs. Meyer told us we should put smoke detectors on the floor when she really meant we should put them on the ceiling. People should say what they mean.
“What about aliens from other planets?” I asked. “Can they prevent forest fires?”
“I’m outta here,” Woodsy the Bear said.
Then he turned and left.
Woodsy the Bear is weird.
You know how your parents and teachers say you have to read a chapter of a book every night? Sometimes you just don’t want to, because reading books is hard. And then your mom or dad yells and screams and nags you about it, right? I know what it’s like. My parents do that to me all the time.
Don’t you wish there was a really short chapter you could knock off in five minutes so you could go do fun stuff like play video games or watch TV?
Well, your old pal A.J. has the solution to your problem.
And this is it! Chapter 6. That’s right—you just read it. It’s over. Done. Now you can tell your parents that you finished a chapter in a book today. So nah-nah-nah boo-boo on them.
You’re welcome!
Every day, Mr. Cooper tries to teach us how to do math. I don’t know why. What’s the point of learning math when we have calculators?
Anyway, Mr. Cooper had just told us to turn to page twenty-three in our math books when lights started flashing and sirens started screaming. And you’ll never believe in a million hundred years what happened next.
No, Mrs. Meyer didn’t come running into the doorway. Wrong again!
“Fire drill!” everybody started shouting.
Yay! A fire drill is when we have to pretend there’s a fire even though nothing is burning up. It’s kind of like having an imaginary friend who you talk to but isn’t really there. I used to have an imaginary friend named Johnny, but we got into an argument, and now we’re not speaking to each other anymore.
Fire drills are cool because we get to miss math and reading and other boring stuff. If you ask me, we should have a fire drill every day.
We had to get up and walk single file out of the building. Mr. Cooper was the line leader. Alexia was the door holder. Everybody was goofing around, because we knew it wasn’t a real fire. If it was a real fire, I would have run out of there like a cheetah was chasing me.
“Walk quickly, kids!” Mr. Cooper told us. “No talking.”
We had to stand out on the playground for a million hundred hours because I guess that’s how long it takes a school to burn down.
So we were standing out there minding our own business, and you’ll never believe what I saw coming out of the trees next to the playground.
Smoke.
“Hey, look over there!” I said, pointing toward the woods.
“It looks like a forest fire might be starting!” yelled Andrea.
“Oh no!” hollered Michael.
“Run for your lives!” shouted Neil.
“We’ve got to do something!” hollered Emily.
“That’s right,” yelled Ryan. “Only all of us can prevent forest fires!”
“Let’s go!” said Mr. Cooper as he pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call the school and tell them to alert the fire department.”
We ran into the woods to see if we could put out the forest fire. And you’ll never believe in a million hundred years what we found there.
It was Mrs. Meyer!
She was sitting next to a little campfire, holding a long stick with a hot dog at the end of it.
“What are you doing here, Mrs. Meyer?” asked Michael.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she replied. “I’m cooking a hot dog. I never got to eat breakfast today.”
“Did you make that fire with your own hands?” asked Alexia.
“Well, I couldn’t make it with somebody else’s hands,” she said, taking a bite of her hot dog. “Did any of you kids ever make a campfire?”
“No,” said Neil.
“No,” said Andrea.
“No,” said Emily.
In case you were wondering, everybody was saying no.
“There are three things you need to make a fire,” Mrs. Meyer told us as she took another bite of her hot dog. “Can anybody name one of them?”
“Lighter fluid!” I shouted.
“You’re partly right, A.J.,” she said. “You need fuel, air, and heat. The fuel is needed for the fire to burn. The air is needed for the fire to breathe. And the heat is needed to keep the fire burning. If you get rid of any one of those three things, your fire will go out.”
Boy, she sure knew a lot about making a fire. She should get the Nobel Prize. That’s a prize they give out to people who know how to make fires. Mrs. Meyer took the last bite of her hot dog.
“If fire is so dangerous, why would we want to make one?” asked Andrea.
“So you can toast marshmallows, silly!” said Mrs. Meyer.
Marshmallows! I love marshmallows. I can’t think of anything in the world I love more than marshmallows.
Well, maybe chocolate. And ice cream. And pizza.
But I really like marshmallows, too. Mrs. Meyer pulled out a big bag of them and gave each of us a pointy stick. She showed us how to hold the marshmallow over the fire and turn it really slowly so it gets browned on all sides.
“Toasty brown all around!” Mrs. Meyer said. “Repeat after me. Toasty brown all around!”
“Toasty brown all around!” we all chanted.
I ate about a million hundred marshmallows. I thought I was gonna throw up. It was the greatest day of my life.
“Say, do you kids want to hear a joke?” Mrs. Meyer asked as we were toasting our marshmallows.
Oh no. Not again. Mrs. Meyer’s jokes are awful.
“Did you hear about the fire at the circus?” she asked us.
“No,” we all replied.
“It was in tents,” s
aid Mrs. Meyer.
That was the whole joke. I didn’t get it. Of course it was in tents. It was at the circus! Mrs. Meyer’s jokes make no sense at all.
After we finished all the marshmallows, Mrs. Meyer just sat there, staring into the fire without saying anything for a long time. She looked all glassy-eyed. It was like she was in a trance or something.
“Fire is an amazing thing, don’t you think?” she finally said. “It can be so useful, and also so destructive.”
Like I said, Mrs. Meyer is weird.*
We were eating lunch in the vomitorium. I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Michael had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Ryan had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Everybody had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I traded my peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Neil’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich because his mom cuts the crusts off.
“You know what’s weird?” I told the gang. “Sometimes they say that a house burned down. And sometimes they say that a house burned up. But it’s the same thing!”
“That’s right,” said Ryan. “Whether your house burns up or down, you still have no house left.”
“I’ll tell you what’s weird,” said Michael. “Mrs. Meyer.”
“Yeah!” we all agreed.
“She’s always telling jokes about fire,” said Alexia.
“Hey, I know a fire joke,” I said. “What do you call a doll that’s on fire?”
“What?” everybody asked.
“A Barbie-Q.”
Everybody laughed. Neil the nude kid laughed so hard that milk came out of his nose. You know a joke is good if you can make milk come out of somebody’s nose. That’s the first rule of being a kid.
I didn’t see it, but annoying Andrea and crybaby Emily had just come up behind us. They put their trays on our table.
“Setting dolls on fire is not funny, Arlo,” said Andrea. “How would you like it if I set one of your action figures on fire?”
“I did that last week,” I told her. “His face melted off. It was cool.”
Andrea and Emily sat down. Andrea had on her mean face, as usual.
