Me and Miranda Mullaly

by Jake Gerhardt

  It’s ugly in the locker room after the game. Like all of the teachers at Penn Valley, Coach is a nut job. He’s actually crying. It’s kind of weird watching a grown man cry over a basketball game, it really is. And then as he’s sitting there he grabs one of my socks and starts wiping his nose with it.

  So I leave the locker room with only one sock, and we lost the big game, and now I know that Chollie Muller has got a thing for Miranda Mullaly. And I have to meet up with Erica Dickerson at the library tonight. And my mom is going to yell at me because I only have one sock (I don’t want to touch my other one because Coach’s snot is all over it). If anybody should be crying, it should be me.

  Duke

  Thanks to Neal and Cassandra having used my upbringing as a sociological experiment, I know basketball.

  When I was eight, I was the point guard for the Immaculate Conception Cougars.

  When I was nine, I played the two (shooting guard) for Beth Shalom synagogue.

  When I was ten and a few inches taller, I played power forward for the Penn Valley United Methodist church.

  When I was eleven, I centered a scrappy and surprisingly sprightly team for the Penn Valley Zendo.15

  When I was twelve, Neal and Cassandra finished their religious studies. And thus came to an end both my basketball career and my game of theological musical chairs. If they had ever asked me, I would have told them I wanted to keep on playing. I was also rather enjoying my unorthodox religious journey. But alas, they never asked.

  The point is, I know basketball. I know a zone defense, the importance of the pressure on the ball, how to block passing lanes, and why it’s important for the point guard to penetrate on offense.

  What I witnessed in the gym this afternoon was hardly basketball. It was a bunch of poorly prepared and solipsistic16 Penn Valley eighth-graders disgracing both themselves and Penn Valley Middle School. I only went to the game so I could write the following report for the school newspaper:

  MULLER SNATCHES DEFEAT FROM THE JAWS OF VICTORY

  Eagles Lose Championship Again

  by Duke Vanderbilt Samagura (Sports Editor)

  With the game on the line and the championship in sight, Charles “Chollie” Muller missed two free throws with no time remaining, sealing the fate of the Golden Eagles and ending the season short of the championship.

  The Eagles played their hearts out against a well-coached and seasoned Wildcats team from rival Cedarbrook. The Eagles jumped off to a quick start, leading the Wildcats by four at the end of the first quarter. The Wildcats, however, gamely fought back and took the lead after Muller committed two turnovers and missed three straight shots. At the end of the first half, the teams were knotted at twenty-six.

  The Eagles again jumped out to a quick start, leading by six halfway through the third quarter. But once again Muller had difficulty on both ends of the court, putting forth a lackluster effort on defense and missing an uncontested layup.

  At the start of the fourth and final quarter, the Eagles and Wildcats traded leads. It was with the final seconds ticking off the clock that Muller drove to the basket, not seeing his open teammates, and tried to win the game on his own. Fortunately for Muller, he was fouled on the play and, with no time left on the clock, was awarded two free throws and the chance at redemption.

  But alas, Muller, who appeared to be distracted, missed both free throws. The Cedarbrook players celebrated, while the Eagles left the court losers, undoubtedly wondering how Muller failed to pass the ball and then missed two free throws. It was a difficult defeat for the team, which had worked so hard and showed so much promise, to accept.

  I had no trouble writing the above article. In fact, I probably didn’t even have to show up. Chollie Muller is always guaranteed to come up short, whether it’s missing the free throws at the end of the basketball game or fumbling the winning touchdown in a football game. It will be interesting to see how he messes up during baseball season.

  It was difficult, however, to sit in the stands and watch Miranda Mullaly cheer for Chollie and Sam. Although I’m sure she’s only a cheerleader to pad her resume for college applications, watching her shake the pom-poms every time we scored a basket was heartrending. Miranda and I should’ve been onstage together, running through lines and rehearsing our duets, instead of cheering for and reporting on the pathetic basketball team.

  10

  The Library

  Duke

  One of the many crosses I have to bear in this world is Neal and Cassandra inviting their university students over for a seminar17 and pizza. Every graduate student in sociology whom I have ever met is afflicted with some type of disease that makes them pat me on the head and say I’m “cute.” You would think college students would have a better vocabulary, or at the very least, the ability to recognize my superior intellect.

  Needless to say, I was a fugitive and had nowhere to go but the library. At least there I could curl up with a New Yorker (the pages are always pristine—not very flattering for my hometown). The library, since it contains books, is usually empty.

  So how bad could it be? A couple of hours in a quiet library. I was actually looking forward to a relaxing, low-stress evening. It also would give me a chance to contemplate what I would write in Miranda’s Valentine’s candy-gram.

  But such nights are not to be had at Penn Valley. The first person I saw upon entering the library was Sam Dolan. He surprisingly had a book in his hands that he was, not surprisingly, holding upside down. I suspect he was waiting for his lab partner, Erica Dickerson. I can’t stand Erica. She’s like a female Sam Dolan with an IQ in the double digits. I have noticed, however, Erica spending a lot of time with Miranda, so I should probably be nice to her just in case Miranda asks her what she thinks about me.

  I passed the half-wit without being seen, grabbed the untouched New Yorker, and took a seat at a table that had two bookshelves protecting me from Sam. I began to read an article about the President of NYU18 when I heard her voice.

  Sinking lower into my seat, I waited like the proverbial dumb blonde in a horror movie.

  And then, much to my despair, Chollie and Miranda passed by my table.

  Chollie, of course, saw me out of the corner of his eye.

  “Hiya, Duke.”

  I could only nod. You’re not supposed to talk in the library anyway.

  Miranda took a chair at the table next to mine. But Chollie just stood in front of me, a stupid smile on his stupid face.

  And since Nikki Shepherd had decided she wanted to do her science report alone and I was already finished with my newspaper article, I had no choice but to pack up my things and go home.

  It’s hard to describe how upsetting it was to have my little place of peace disturbed by the likes of Chollie Muller and Sam Dolan.

  I tried to sneak up to my room to avoid the seminar. Unfortunately, a student caught me in the hallway when I wasn’t looking and tousled my hair and called me cute. Too bad I’m too old to kick sociology majors in the shins. I would have enjoyed that.

  After I finally escaped, I locked the door to my room, sat down at my desk, looked up at my poster of the Bard,19 and got to work on writing a note for the candy-gram I would send to Miranda on Valentine’s Day.

  I wrote out about fifty different cards but couldn’t settle on exactly what I wanted to say. At some point I ran out of gas and slept at my desk until Cassandra and Neal rudely woke me and carried me to bed.

  CHOLLIE

  I’m especially excited to see Miranda at the library tonight because I’m going to talk to her about the Valentine’s Day dance. Billy thinks it’s a good idea to strike up a conversation about the dance so she won’t be surprised when I ask her to go with me. I know it’s still weeks away, but Billy says a girl like Miranda will have lots of guys lining up to ask her.

  But here’s what actually happens at the library.


  I get there early before Miranda shows up, and I have all my stuff out because I know Miranda likes to get right to work. Then I wait for Miranda at the door so I can be a gentleman and hold it open and all that stuff.

  Miranda’s dad drops her off and I make small talk, which is not one of my strongest points. And of course I really can’t remember what I said, because I was nervous. But I know I didn’t say anything stupid because I always remember when I say something dumb.

  Miranda leads the way (the librarian knows her name and says hello to her, which I think is awesome) and we take our seats at the table I saved for us. Duke Samagura is at the next table, and I say hi to him to be polite and show good manners, but Duke scurries away like there’s a fire. He’s a weird dude sometimes.

  Then Miranda gets right to work. It’s amazing. She’s got the whole report on her computer and a rough draft with handwritten notes, and it sort of makes me feel like I haven’t done a lot of work. So as Miranda’s typing away, I pretend I have notes to read through and something to add, but I really just wait to mention the Valentine’s Day dance.

  I have no idea how much time passes as I sit there just trying to get the guts to even talk about the dance. It’s much worse than standing at the free throw line. Finally I look up from my papers.

  “Miranda,” a voice says.

  But it’s not my voice. It’s Erica Dickerson’s voice. And before I know it, Erica is standing right beside me talking to Miranda about who knows what.

  And then they’re laughing, but I don’t know what they’re laughing about, so I just go along and laugh with them and I really feel stupid. I don’t know what’s going on.

  When it’s all said and done, I don’t say anything to Miranda about the dance, and the report is all finished, and there’s nothing to do but say good night and go home. This really bums me out because now that the report is finished, we won’t have any reason to go to the library, and I didn’t say anything about the Valentine’s dance.

  What a terrible end to a terrible day.

  SAM

  Erica Dickerson is late meeting me at the library to work on our science report. Miranda is never late, so I end up having to watch her walk by with Chollie Muller and set up camp a few tables away. It just drives me nuts, seeing Chollie with her, especially after watching him look into Miranda’s eyes at the basketball game today. And then lucky Chollie gets to work with her in the library tonight of all nights. I wish I had a thumbtack waiting on his seat.

  To take my mind off this, I pull out a book I’m borrowing from my mom called I Feel Bad About My Neck by Nora Ephron. It’s supposed to be “thoughts on being a woman,” but I’m really not getting much out of it besides learning that New York City is expensive and most skin creams that women use to combat aging don’t work. But my mom laughed out loud when she read it, so I thought I’d give it a try. To me, though, the book is very disappointing and not really funny. It’s probably the kind of book Erica Dickerson would write.

  “Thoughts on being a woman,” Erica Dickerson says, and before I know it, she has the book in her hands. “What, are you planning on becoming a woman someday?” If it weren’t for her bad manners, she wouldn’t have any manners at all.

  “You know, that’s really rude, taking my book out of my hands like that,” I say.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says with a lot of sarcasm as she takes a seat across from me.

  I grab the book back and hide it in my bag.

  “You know what’s a really great book?”

  “No,” I say. “What’s a really great book?” And I’m being very sarcastic.

  “Twilight,” she says, which is really nothing new to me because my sister Maureen has about fifteen copies of those books. They’re everywhere in the house.

  “Twilight, huh?” I say, and I take out all my yak stuff so Erica Dickerson gets the idea that I’m ready to finish this report and go home.

  “Oh yeah, it’s my favorite book. And Miranda’s, too.”

  This last piece of information really gets my attention.

  “Twilight, eh?”

  So I write “Twilight!!!!!!” on my list of things to do.

  Knowing this energizes me. So now I’m ready to start this report so I can get home and start reading Twilight. But Erica Dickerson has other plans.

  “I’ll be right yak,” she says.

  “What?”

  “I’ll be right yak.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Think about it, Dolan. I’ll be right yak.”

  Erica actually laughs at her own stupid joke. She also calls her backpack her backyak or yakpack. Just when I’m getting along with her, she has to go and say something unfunny like that.

  Before I even get a chance to tell her as much, she runs off to talk to Miranda. And then I can hear them laughing and I have this terrible feeling they are laughing at me. Even Chollie Muller is laughing.

  I can’t wait for this day to end.

  11

  Give Me Toilet Paper!

  SAM

  Picture this. I walk into school just minding my own business, you see, because I’m in a bad mood. My book bag weighs about a thousand pounds because I have all the Twilight books in it, I have rehearsals for the musical after school, and I still have no idea how I’m going to move along my relationship with Miranda Mullaly. I’m a man with a lot on his mind.

  But Lichtensteiner has finally had enough of the toilet paper tossing in the bathroom and decides to take all the paper from the boys’ bathrooms. And then he goes around telling everybody to ask me about it. Like I’ve been saying all along, I’m not the one who’s tossing the toilet paper. I don’t even go in the dirty boys’ room, since Coach opens the locker room for the basketball players. It’s a really big perk of being on the team.

  Anyway, Lichtensteiner takes all the toilet paper from the boys’ rooms today and doesn’t say anything. Some guys find out too late, if you know what I mean. You can actually hear people screaming for help from the bathroom. And somehow, within minutes, Tony Worthington is selling Kleenex Pocket Packs out of the school store at a steep markup.

  By lunchtime all the kids, at least the guys, are just about going nuts, and everybody’s asking me what the deal is. I’ve never been in a riot before but I certainly can see how they can start.

  No one wants to eat their lunch and all people can think about is going to the bathroom. And I’m wondering if I’m safe or if Lichtensteiner has taken the goods from the locker room, too.

  Everyone gathers around my lunch table and people are talking about attacking the school office and grabbing the toilet paper or swiping the janitor’s keys and looting the supply closet. Matt Vesci talks about leaving a little present outside Lichtensteiner’s door. Am I making myself clear? We are just about to have a revolution.

  So I get up on a chair and I explain that I have nothing to do with the whole thing. I think everyone believes me, which puts my mind at ease because this group is getting scary. But as I’m up on the chair explaining myself, I start thinking about how Lichtensteiner is blaming the toilet paper throwing on me and it gets me worked up.

  Next thing I know, I’m giving a speech. I say things like “Toilet paper’s a right” and might even throw in something about all men being created equal. Anyway, I end the thing by screaming the funniest thing I can think to say to this mob, “Give me toilet paper, or give me death!”

  Those words really get everyone going. We storm out of the cafeteria and head toward the office, when I remember there’s a student council meeting going on.

  We burst through the auditorium doors and crash the meeting.

  Duke Samagura bangs his gavel, like that’s really going to stop us. Mr. Porter, who is a decent guy but needs to do something about his dandruff, stops us, though to tell the truth we don’t have anywhere else to go.<
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  He wants to know what’s going on.

  I let him have it, trying to remember all the history he has taught me. I don’t know if I got the natural rights of man correct, or if I did, I don’t know if I tied it to toilet paper properly. But when I end it with “Give us toilet paper, or give us death!” I get another round of applause. Boy, that’s a heck of a line.

  Mr. Porter calms us down a bit and finally processes the entire toilet paper spiel. He takes me by the arm and the two of us go to the main office. Mr. Porter goes into Mr. Lichtensteiner’s office and comes out about a minute later with rolls and rolls of toilet paper.

  We walk back down the aisle to the auditorium with rolls falling from our arms. I start throwing the toilet paper, and everyone else starts to throw it around, too. We’re all going wild and before I know it, I’m up on some dude’s shoulders and I’m just about the biggest hero in the world. And a comedy legend.

  I toss the toilet paper and a couple of guys run out with it, laughing and crying tears of joy. It’s the happiest we’ve ever been at Penn Valley.

  And I just know Lichtensteiner said to the teachers, “Watch this,” as he pulled the toilet paper from the bathrooms. He is going get an honorable mention when Watch This! is published.

  CHOLLIE

  When I got home from the library two weeks ago, Billy didn’t even ask me how it went with Miranda. Instead, he waved a newspaper in front of me.

  “Here it is,” Billy says, waving the newspaper. “Here’s your ticket to your lady friend’s heart.”

  “A newspaper?”

  “No, no, no,” Billy says, handing me the paper. “Right there on the front page.”

  I read the first couple of paragraphs, and it’s about how the ocean is going to rise up and swallow a bunch of cities and flood everything, and everything is going to be really rotten and horrible. They call it global warming, and I think one of my teachers told us about it, but I can’t really be sure.