by Dan Gutman
“What’s eating you?” I asked her. “Did they cancel your clog-dancing lesson for today?”*
“No,” Andrea said. “I’m worried about Mrs. Meyer. I think she likes fire a little too much.”
“Yeah, did you see the look in her eyes when she was staring into the campfire?” asked Alexia. “It was creepy. I think Mrs. Meyer is obsessed with fire.”
“Maybe she’s a pyromaniac,” said Andrea.
“You mean she really loves eating pie?” I asked.
Everybody laughed even though I didn’t say anything funny.
“No, dumbhead,” said Andrea. “A pyromaniac is somebody who can’t stop setting fires.”
“I knew that,” I lied. “Hey, maybe Mrs. Meyer isn’t a real firefighter at all. Maybe she’s an imposter.”
“Stop trying to scare Emily,” Andrea told me.
“Yeah, maybe Mrs. Meyer is a pyromaniac who is just pretending to be a firefighter,” said Michael.
“I’m scared,” said Emily.
“Maybe Mrs. Meyer kidnapped a real firefighter and tied him up in an abandoned barn,” said Neil. “Stuff like that happens all the time, you know.”
“And she’s about to set the barn on fire!” said Ryan. “I saw that in a movie once.”
“She’ll probably set our school on fire,” I added.
“We’ve got to do something!” Emily shouted. And then she went running out of the room.
Sheesh. That girl will fall for anything.
Actually, Emily was right. We did have to do something. If Mrs. Meyer was going to set the school on fire, a lot of people could get hurt.
There was only one thing for us to do. We had to go talk to Mr. Klutz.
After lunch the whole gang and I skipped recess and went to Mr. Klutz’s office instead.
Well, we didn’t just go to his office. We snuck down the hallways, ducking into doorways along the way so Mrs. Meyer wouldn’t see us. It was exciting! There was electricity in the air.
Well, not really. If there was electricity in the air, we would have all been electrocuted. And that’s even worse than catching on fire. But we were slinking around like secret agents. It was cool.
Mr. Klutz was standing in front of his office talking to some parent.
“Blah blah my daughter blah blah,” said the parent. “Blah blah she won’t do it again blah blah.”
“Blah blah thank you blah blah,” said Mr. Klutz. “Blah blah we appreciate your blah blah.”
Grown-ups are really boring. After a million hundred minutes, the parent finally said good-bye to Mr. Klutz and left.
“What can I do for you kids?” Mr. Klutz asked us. “Aren’t you missing recess?”
“We have an important question we need to ask you,” said Andrea. “Is Mrs. Meyer a real firefighter?”
“Hmmm,” said Mr. Klutz, scratching his head as if he had any hair up there.
“We’re afraid she’s a pyromaniac who kidnapped a real firefighter,” I told him. “She probably tied him up in an abandoned barn, and she’s about to set it on fire.”
“Hmmm,” said Mr. Klutz, scratching his head again. He must have had a rash or something. “Mrs. Meyer told me she’s a real firefighter. She looks like a real firefighter. She talks like a real firefighter. But I can’t be completely sure. Maybe you should ask her to prove that she’s a real firefighter.”
“Yeah!” Alexia said. “Let’s make her prove it.”
“Yeah!” we all agreed.
“Where is Mrs. Meyer?” asked Andrea.
“Oh, she’s not here,” said Mr. Klutz. “She said she wanted to take the rest of the day off, but the fire chief told her she had to go to the firehouse for an important meeting at three fifteen.”
“Important meeting?” I said. “Ha! Mrs. Meyer is a liar. I bet she didn’t even go to the firehouse, because she’s not a real firefighter. She’s a fake!”
That’s when I got the greatest idea in the history of the world.
I looked at Ryan. Ryan looked at Neil. Neil looked at Andrea. Andrea looked at Alexia. We were all looking at each other, because we all had the same genius idea.
Important meeting? Three fifteen? We get out of school at three o’clock.
We were going to spy on Mrs. Meyer.
As soon as the three-o’clock bell rang, we all ran out of school and gathered in the playground. This was going to be a real spy mission.
“Okay, let’s synchronize our watches,” I said, because that’s what they always do in spy movies.
“I don’t have a watch,” said Ryan.
“Me neither,” said Neil.
Actually, I didn’t have a watch either. It just sounds cool to say “Let’s synchronize our watches.”
“I have a watch,” said Andrea. “It’s five minutes after three.”
Of course Andrea had a watch. She’s probably the only third grader in the world who wears a watch.
“Okay,” I said. “The big meeting at the firehouse starts in ten minutes. Let’s go!”
The firehouse is just three blocks from school. We slinked down the street like secret agents, ducking into doorways and hiding behind mailboxes along the way so nobody would see us. It was cool.
Finally, we reached the firehouse. There was a giant garage door where the fire trucks drive in and out.
“I’m scared,” said Emily as we lurked next to the door.
“If Mrs. Meyer isn’t in there,” whispered Alexia, “that’s proof that she isn’t a real firefighter.”
“And if there’s no meeting going on in here,” whispered Michael, “that means Mrs. Meyer is a liar.”
“Shhhhhhh!” whispered Andrea, looking at her watch. “It’s three fifteen right now.”
We peeked our heads around the wall so we could snoop on what was happening inside the firehouse.
“Do you see anything?” Neil whispered.
“No,” whispered Michael. “There’s nobody in there. The place is empty.”
“Nothing’s going on,” whispered Ryan. “There’s no meeting.”
“That’s proof!” I whispered. “See? I told you Mrs. Meyer wasn’t a real firefighter. She’s probably home watching TV and eating bonbons.”
“Shhhhhhh!” whispered Andrea.
That’s when the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened.
Mrs. Meyer came walking down the street.
Well, that’s not the amazing part, because Mrs. Meyer probably walks down the street all the time. The amazing part was what happened next.
Mrs. Meyer was coming from the other direction. She didn’t see us.
“Look!” whispered Emily. “She’s going into the firehouse!”
At that moment lights started flashing. Sirens started screaming. Bells started ringing. Whistles started blowing. Alarms started sounding. My ears started hurting.
“It must be a fire!” shouted Ryan. “We gotta get outta here!”
But it wasn’t a fire. If it was a fire, all the firefighters would have jumped on the fire truck and driven out of the firehouse. Instead, they all jumped out from behind the fire truck and yelled at Mrs. Meyer . . .
“SURPRISE!”
A giant banner came down from the ceiling. . . .
“It’s not a fire,” said Michael. “It’s Mrs. Meyer’s birthday!”
“They’re throwing her a surprise party!” said Andrea. “That’s so sweet!”
Andrea was right for once in her life. All the firefighters gathered around Mrs. Meyer. They were hugging her and giving her presents.
“So I guess she really is a firefighter after all,” said Alexia.
Well, we had accomplished our spy mission. We were about to turn around and go home. But that’s when the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened.
“What are you kids doing here?” Mrs. Meyer suddenly asked.
She had spotted us! I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I had to think fast.
“We . . . uh . .
. came to wish you a happy birthday,” I said.
“Great!” said Mrs. Meyer. “You’re just in time for the party!”
Mrs. Meyer took us inside the firehouse and introduced us to all the other firefighters. They let us climb on a fire truck, which was really cool. And we got to pet their fire dog. But the coolest part was when they took us up to the second floor and let us slide down the fire poles. That was so much more fun than taking the stairs. I’m going to get my parents to put a fire pole in our house.
Emily was too scared, but the rest of us slid down the fire poles a million hundred times. Then one of the firefighters wheeled in a giant cake.
Cake! I love cake!
“This will make up for the cake I didn’t get to eat on my birthday,” said Emily.
Mrs. Meyer must be really old, because that cake had a lot of candles on it. Two of the firefighters lit them, and then we all sang “Happy Birthday.”
“Make a wish,” one of the firefighters told Mrs. Meyer.
She closed her eyes. That’s when the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened.
But I’m not going to tell you what it was.
Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. But you have to read the next chapter. So nah-nah-nah boo-boo on you!
Mrs. Meyer had her eyes closed, so she didn’t see what happened next. But I did. The banner that said HAPPY BIRTHDAY MRS. MEYER had been tied to the fire pole on the second floor. I guess it wasn’t tied very tightly, because it slowly started to slide down.
It was coming down right over the cake!
The banner touched the candles on the cake!
The candles lit the banner on fire!
“Eeeeeeek!” went all the girls.
“It’s on fire!” Ryan shouted.
“Call the fire department!” I shouted.
“This is the fire department!” shouted Andrea.
“Then call the police department!” I shouted.
The banner was burning up. Everybody started yelling and screaming and shrieking and hooting and hollering and generally freaking out.*
“Help!” shouted Neil. “Run for your lives!”
“Get the hose!” shouted one of the firefighters.
“The hose is on fire!” shouted another firefighter.
“The firehouse is on fire!” I shouted.
The banner was going up in flames, and some of the letters had burned up. Instead of reading HAPPY BIRTHDAY MRS. MEYER, all that was left was HA IR D YE!
“Get a fire extinguisher!” somebody yelled. “Mrs. Meyer is on fire!”
It was true. Part of the banner had landed on Mrs. Meyer’s pants, and now they were on fire.
“Stop, drop, and roll!” shouted Andrea.
“Fall and crawl!” shouted Alexia.
“Get low and go!” shouted Ryan.
“Don’t hide. Go outside!” shouted Neil.
“Toasty brown all around!” I shouted.
The firefighters squirted that foamy stuff all over Mrs. Meyer until they put her out. The only problem was that now the cake was on fire.
“The cake is on fire!” somebody shouted. “Shoot the cake!”
It was true! Flames were coming out of the frosting! What’s up with that? Whoever heard of a cake that caught on fire? That cake must have been made with gasoline or something.
There were sirens screaming and lights flashing. Smoke was everywhere. The firefighters were shooting fire extinguishers and hoses all over the place. Everybody was slipping on goopy cake and falling all over the floor. What a mess! It was hilarious. And we got to see it live and in person.
Finally, after a million hundred minutes, the firefighters put the fires out. We all wished Mrs. Meyer a happy birthday and left the firehouse.
In the end we didn’t get to eat any cake. Again. Man, I hate birthdays. Especially birthdays when you don’t get any cake. Bummer in the summer!
Well, that’s pretty much what happened. Maybe next year crybaby Emily will get to eat some birthday cake. Maybe they’ll put trampolines in our class instead of desks. Maybe Mr. Cooper will use his super vision to shoot microwave-freezing rays out of his eyes. Maybe we’ll eat Mr. Klutz’s melon head. Maybe I’ll get to pee on another campfire. Maybe Mrs. Meyer will stop telling bad jokes, destroying smoke detectors, and jumping out of windows. Maybe they’ll start a TV channel where they just bust stuff up all day long. Maybe firefighters will stop naming their children after hoses. Maybe my mom will start cutting the crusts off my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Maybe bears will stop running into our school. Maybe I’ll melt the face off another one of my action figures. Maybe they’ll make smoke detectors in the shape of a nose. Maybe I can talk my parents into putting a fire pole in our house.
But it won’t be easy!
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About the Author and Illustrator
DAN GUTMAN has written many weird books for kids. He lives in New York (a very weird place) with his weird wife and two weird children. You can visit him on his weird website at www.dangutman.com.
JIM PAILLOT lives in Arizona (another weird place) with his weird wife and two weird children. Isn’t that weird? You can visit him on his weird website at www.jimpaillot.com.
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Credits
Cover art © 2016 by Jim Paillot
Copyright
MY WEIRDEST SCHOOL #4: MRS. MEYER IS ON FIRE! Text copyright © 2016 by Dan Gutman. Illustrations copyright © 2016 by Jim Paillot. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2015947625
ISBN 978-0-06-228430-3 (trade bdg.)
ISBN 978-0-06-228432-7 (lib. bdg.)
EPub Edition © January 2016 ISBN 9780062284310
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FIRST EDITION
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* Well, maybe cupcakes are better. I love them, too. But they’re just little cakes that happen to be in cups, so it’s the same stuff.
* Don’t try this at home, kids. I’m a professional.
* Also, it will be easy to remember her name because it’s right there on the book cover. But I guess she didn’t know that.
* Well, of course it was Mrs. Meyer. Who else could it be? It’s a book about Mrs. Meyer!
* If you weren’t, you can read about it in a book called Mr. Jack Is a Maniac!
* Are you enjoying the story so far? Good. So what are you reading this
for? The story’s up there, dumbhead!
* That’s a kind of dance that plumbers do.
* Want to laugh your head off? Ask a parent if you can go on YouTube. Then search for “Fire Marshall Bill” and watch the videos with Jim Carrey. They are hilarious.
