Iggy Is Better Than Ever

by Annie Barrows

  Did the tape shoot the car backward, hurling it through the air in the direction it had come?

  Well, no, it didn’t. But it didn’t just snap either. Which, truthfully, was what Iggy had been expecting. Of course, the tape broke, but it didn’t break right away. First it stretched for a couple of seconds, and—this was the really great part—there was a tiny moment when the car was pushing against the tape, and the tape was holding it back. And in that tiny moment, the driver got an incredibly weird expression on his face. It was sort of curiosity—what was that?—and sort of fear—what was that?—and it was completely hilarious.

  The tape broke, and the car drove on, the driver looking nervously right and left.

  “SWEET!” shouted Diego, popping out from behind his tree. “Did you see his face?”

  “He was freaking!” yelled Iggy.

  “Let’s do it again,” Arch called, laughing.

  So they did.

  The next time, they got an old lady in a black car. Even with all her windows rolled up, they could hear her yell “Gah!” which made it so much funnier. She drove away fast.

  “This is great!” hollered Diego. “She totally thought it was aliens!”

  The time after that, they got a guy in a truck. He stopped and rolled down his window and looked back toward the trees, but luckily, Iggy hid behind his tree, and Arch and Diego crouched down in some bushes.

  As time went on, they learned that women usually drove away as fast as they could and men usually stopped, rolled down the window, and looked back at the road. But since the tape was clear, and Iggy, Arch, and Diego were hiding, they didn’t see anything, and then they drove on.

  You’d think it would get old, after eleven cars, but that’s because you weren’t there. It just got funnier and funnier and funnier.

  Until the twelfth car.

  CHAPTER 6

  THE TWELFTH CAR

  For the twelfth time, they tied the tape around the trees, Iggy on his side of the street, Diego and Arch on theirs. “We’re going to run out of tape pretty soon!” Iggy yelled, waving the (much smaller) roll of tape.

  “Let’s make this one a double,” Diego yelled back. “Since it’s the last one.”

  Great idea! The boys quickly set up a second strand of tape across the street and ran back to their places.

  “This is going to be the best!” Iggy yelled, because—as all three of them knew—two strands of tape meant that the next car would get twice the pushing-backward feeling. But it also meant—as none of them noticed—that the car would be slowed down twice as much. So if the first eleven cars broke through the tape in one to two seconds, the twelfth car would break through the tape in two to four seconds. Four seconds may not sound like very long—and it isn’t—but it can feel very long.

  Ah-one.

  Ah-two.

  Ah-three.

  Ah-four.

  See what I mean?

  But, as I mentioned, none of them thought about that.

  Iggy was already laughing when he saw the red car in the distance. “All right! Here it comes!” he hollered.

  Diego and Arch pretended to be the car, boinging backward. They fell onto the ground near the bushes.

  Which is why Iggy was the only one who saw the face of the driver coming toward the double strand of tape. It was a very familiar face. It was a face that made him want to stand completely still.

  Which, under the circumstances, was not a very good idea.

  Because—yup, you guessed it!—the driver of the car was Mrs. Wander.

  On she came, right into the double strand of tape, which held for one, two, three—only it was more like ooonnnne, twoooooo, threeeee—seconds before it broke.

  And yes, Mrs. Wander got that same expression on her face that every other driver had—What was that? What was that?—before the tape broke.

  And yes, Mrs. Wander looked nervously right and left.

  But after that, Mrs. Wander was different, because she slammed on her brakes, pulled over to the side of the road, got out of her car, and began to stomp toward the broken pieces of tape.

  Iggy’s life passed before his eyes.

  Did he think: Stretching clear plastic tape across the road is very bad, and I deserve whatever punishment I get?

  No. He didn’t think that.

  Did he think: I have now learned my lesson, and I will never do that bad thing again?

  Nope. He didn’t think that either.

  Did he even think: I must warn my friends of approaching danger?

  Nah.

  He thought: GET OUT OF HERE! NOW! BEFORE I GET CAUGHT!!

  And then he ran and ran and ran.

  CHAPTER 7

  THE WANDERING THOUGHTS OF IGGY AND ARCH

  Late that night (okay, it was only 8:14), Iggy called Arch.

  “She hasn’t called my parents,” said Arch.

  “She hasn’t called mine either,” said Iggy.

  “She didn’t call Diego’s either,” said Arch. “I think she didn’t see us.”

  “How could she not see us?” asked Iggy. “We were running all over the place.”

  “I don’t know,” said Arch. “Maybe she was only looking at the tape.”

  “No,” said Iggy. “I know her better than you guys. I think she’s waiting until school tomorrow, and then she’s going to call us in and scream at us and tell our parents. And then probably she’s going to call the police.”

  “She’s not going to call the police,” said Arch (but he sounded worried).

  “You don’t know her like I do,” said Iggy.

  “Why wouldn’t she call them tonight, if she was going to call them?” asked Arch.

  “So we’ll freak out about it all night,” said Iggy. “That’s why.”

  “No,” said Arch (but he still sounded worried). “I think she’s not sure. I think she wasn’t really looking around because she was so mad, and she’s not sure it was us.”

  “Maybe,” said Iggy. It was possible. “Maybe she only saw us a little.”

  “Yeah,” said Arch. “Just for a split second. She’s probably thinking: Who were those guys? I know I’ve seen them somewhere.”

  Iggy began to feel a tiny bit hopeful. “Maybe if she doesn’t see us tomorrow, she won’t figure it out.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’m going to be invisible tomorrow,” said Arch. “I’m going to be a ninja.”

  “Same,” said Iggy. “No one’s even going to know I’m there. I’m going to be so quiet and good, Arden’s going to look like a criminal next to me.” Arden was a girl in their class who was always perfect. She was a pain.

  Arch laughed. “Me too.”

  Iggy didn’t feel very worried now. He would be completely invisible for a day, and Mrs. Wander wouldn’t even think of him, much less remember seeing him at the scene of the crime. He thought about her face when she drove through the tape. “Do you think you’re going to get some more of that tape?”

  “I told my dad we needed more,” said Arch.

  “Invite me over when he gets it,” said Iggy.

  CHAPTER 7½

  HOW TO BE A BETTER PERSON, PART ONE

  Now, kids, I am sorry to say that Iggy didn’t learn his lesson. But you did, right?

  What did you learn?

  You learned NEVER to tie clear plastic tape across a street! Never, never, never!

  Is it fun?

  Yes!

  But is it also bad?

  Yes!

  And you will NEVER do it, right?

  Right!

  Whew! You have been saved from gardening-tape badness! You are so much better than you were before!

  CHAPTER 8

  IGGY THE INVISIBLE

  It is now time to discuss the peacock flounder.

  The peacock flounder is a fish, not a pe
acock. It’s called a peacock flounder because sometimes it appears to have bright blue-green spots on its sides. While this is probably a total blast for the peacock flounder, we don’t care about blue spots. We care about the fact that the peacock flounder can change the color of its spots from gray to brown or white or blue-green or whatever color will help it blend into its background. The point—for the peacock flounder—is to become invisible so its predators don’t eat it.*

  The next day at school, Iggy was a peacock flounder.

  He blended in with all the good children who would never, ever tie plastic tape across a street and then laugh at the people who drove through it.

  Iggy sat quietly at his desk with his hands folded. He didn’t run. He didn’t yell. He didn’t tap the gecko tank. He didn’t see if he could land a three-point shot with his napkin from the lunch table to the garbage can. He didn’t make fun of Arden during PE. He didn’t laugh when Owen’s shoes got ruined during science.

  All day long, he was a peacock flounder. All day long, he was waiting to hear the intercom buzz and then the school secretary’s voice: “Ms. Schulberger, please send Iggy Frangi to the principal’s office.”

  But it never happened. She didn’t call in Arch or Diego either.

  “I think we’re okay,” said Diego at the end of school. But he looked over his shoulder as he said it.

  “Yeah,” said Arch. “I think she didn’t see us.”

  Iggy thought about Mrs. Wander’s bulging eyeballs. “I’m going to be good for one more day,” he said. “Just to be sure.”

  So the next day, Iggy remained invisible to his predators. He sat quietly at his desk with his hands folded.

  “Are you feeling okay, Iggy?” asked Ms. Schulberger.

  Iggy nodded. He nodded with his mouth shut because he was afraid he’d yell if he opened it.

  Actually, he wasn’t feeling okay. He was feeling like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Is this how good kids felt all the time? How could anyone sit still for this long? He was going to explode. By noon, he was making little exploding sounds in his throat.

  He tried to be quiet and well-behaved. He really did.

  He only threw his napkin a little way across the lunchroom. He waited calmly by the sports equipment shed to get a basketball. He waited so calmly that all the basketball courts were taken by the time he got to the blacktop and none of the fifth graders would let him in, when he was just as good as most of them and better than four of them (and you know who I’m talking about here, Marc, Jadyn, Chris, and Kelsey). Still, Iggy waited patiently for them to finish, just standing there at the farthest edge of the blacktop with his basketball.

  Just standing there, waiting . . .

  CHAPTER 9

  GOOD THINGS COME TO THOSE WHO WAIT. BUT THEN AGAIN, SO DO BAD THINGS

  I have to say something about Miss Hackerman. Some people might call it rude, but if they did, they’d be wrong. It’s just true.

  Miss Hackerman is old. Very old. Miss Hackerman is so old that sometimes her students’ parents had also been her students, and at Open House, they stand around talking about how great life was in 1985. Miss Hackerman is so old that she wears slippers when she’s in her classroom. When she has to leave the classroom, she sits down in a chair and puts on real-people shoes, and she makes faces when she wears them, like ouch, ouch, ouch. Miss Hackerman is so old that she calls the kids in her class “boys and girls.” When it is time to line up to go back to class after lunch recess, she calls in a quavering voice, “Come along, boys and girls! Lunch is over, boys and girls!”

  Ms. Schulberger calls, “Room 20! People! Time to come in!”

  When the kids hear their teachers call them in, everyone who has a ball groans and tries to get in one last final throw or kick before his or her teacher blows the whistle. The whistle means: You are going to be in trouble in about ten seconds.

  Iggy was still waiting patiently when the teachers started coming out of their secret lunchroom. Nah, he thought. Recess isn’t over. It can’t be over yet. They must be early.

  He hadn’t even shot his basketball once.

  The teachers strolled to their line-up spots in various places around the blacktop.

  They’ve got to be early, thought Iggy. He began to feel less patient. “Come on, you guys,” he said to the fifth graders. “Let me come in, just for a minute. Recess is almost over.”

  Marc said a thing that meant No. Chris laughed.

  That was mean.

  (Some people could really use a book on how to become a better person.)

  “Room 20! Time to come in, people!” called Ms. Schulberger.

  “Nooo!” groaned Iggy. He had waited all recess long! What a waste of a basketball!

  “Children!” quavered Miss Hackerman. “Boys and girls!”

  Hooray! The fifth graders had to go in! That meant there might be a couple of seconds for Iggy to throw an outside shot.

  Marc took one last shot. Jadyn took one last shot.

  Hurry up! thought Iggy. “Come on, you guys!” he yelled.

  “Iggy!” called Ms Schulberger. “Hop to it!” She blew her whistle.

  Kelsey gave Iggy a look—a you-just-missed-your-entire-recess-you-loser look—and took one last shot.

  Stupid fifth graders! They acted like they owned the world. Iggy hated them. Angrily, he turned and started to run toward Ms. Schulberger’s line, dribbling the ball—whap, whap—as he went. Remember how I said Iggy had been waiting at the farthest edge of the blacktop? He had a long way to run. All the other courts were empty now. All the other hoops were now perfectly free.

  Including the one that was closest to the fifth-grade lines.

  I’ll show those losers who can throw a ball, thought Iggy. I’ll show them.

  Whap, whap, whap—

  “Iggy!” called Ms. Schulberger, not patiently. “Now!”

  Dang! Iggy jumped into the air and hurled the ball as hard as he could toward the basketball hoop next to the fifth graders.

  What a throw.

  What a beautiful, long, perfect throw.

  If he had made the basket, it would have been the greatest outside shot in basketball history. Every kid in his school would have remembered it forever.

  But Iggy didn’t make the basket. He missed the basket.

  In fact, he not only missed the basket, he actually missed the entire court. The ball sailed at top speed over the backboard, through the air, and right to the front of the fifth-grade line, where it slammed right into Miss Hackerman's shoulder.

  Miss Hackerman’s head boinged from side to side.

  And then Miss Hackerman crumpled to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

  And then every kid in school—all nicely lined up on the blacktop—turned and pointed to Iggy and screamed, “Iggy killed Miss Hackerman!”

  CHAPTER 10

  DEATH AND BASKETBALLS

  Obviously, Iggy did not kill Miss Hackerman.

  Duh.

  Of course not.

  Number 1: As you know, this is a kids’ book. And Iggy is the main character, otherwise known as the hero of the book. The hero of a kids’ book is not going to kill anyone, especially not a teacher. If I wrote a book in which Iggy had actually killed Miss Hackerman with a basketball, do you know what would happen to me? Author jail, that’s what.

  But also, Number 2: You can’t kill someone with a basketball. It’s just not possible.

  What?

  Even if the person is really old and weak?

  Hm.

  Let me go ask Steph Curry.

  . . .

  . . .

  . . .

  Okay. Steph says he never heard of anyone being killed by a basketball. (He also says don’t go throwing basketballs at people who aren’t playing basketball.)

  (Which Iggy wasn’t. He w
as throwing the basketball at the basket and missed.)

  * * *

  • • •

  Back to Miss Hackerman.*

  Last time we saw her, Miss Hackerman was crumpled on the blacktop like a sack of potatoes. Poor Miss Hackerman.

  But, as we have just discussed, she was not crumpled and dead. She was only crumpled.

  Did she get a concussion?

  No!

  Iggy hit her on the shoulder, so Miss Hackerman crumpled sideways, and the first thing that hit the ground was not her head. It was her arm.

  Did she break her arm?

  No!

  Did she break anything?

  Yes. She broke her teacup.

  Did she break any body parts?

  No. She didn’t.

  I’m not saying she felt good. She didn’t feel good. She was shaken up, and she got a really big bruise on her elbow and another one on her leg.

  She was so shaken up that she had to take the rest of the day off. The school secretary had to teach her class.

  None of that was good, and I’m not saying it was. Even if Iggy did not kill Miss Hackerman, even if Iggy did not seriously injure Miss Hackerman, it was very hard on poor, old Miss Hackerman, getting hit with a basketball and crumpling to the ground. I am really sorry that Iggy hit Miss Hackerman with that basketball. And so was he.

  But the fact remains: Miss Hackerman was okay.

  After a couple of days.

  CHAPTER 10½

  HOW TO BE A BETTER PERSON, PART TWO

  Oh my gosh, kids! What have you learned from this terrible story?