Me and Miranda Mullaly

by Jake Gerhardt

  Let me start at the beginning.

  I wake up this morning to the sound of a shovel scraping the pavement. I’m in big trouble if Dad’s out shoveling, so I jump out of bed. But when I look out the window, who do I see? John Lutz.

  I’m looking at the snow and this weird feeling comes over me. I think about how much fun it will be to go sledding and have a snowball fight, and I feel just like a little kid. And then I remember how rotten I felt about the dance and how I was all alone and how the only real conversations I had were with Lichtensteiner and Erica Dickerson. What’s wrong with me?

  But then the good feeling about the snow makes me feel better about the bad feeling about the dance and I get dressed and get on with the day. I decide to go out and help (if Mom and Dad wake up, they’ll make me go out and shovel anyway).

  Outside, it’s cold and bright and windy. But the air feels good in my lungs.

  “You know, my father won’t pay you for this,” I tell Lutz.

  Lutz stops and looks at me.

  “That ain’t why I’m shoveling the walk, dummy,” he says, and continues to heave huge shovelfuls of snow in a pile.

  “Then why are you doing it?” I ask.

  Lutz stops, leans against his shovel, and looks at me like I’m an idiot.

  “Are you an idiot?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “I’m shoveling because your sister’s mad at me.”

  “So? My sister doesn’t have to shovel the walk. My dad’s the one who will be happy.”

  Lutz shakes his head and continues shoveling.

  “If you knew anything about girls, Sam, you’d know that when you do something helpful and useful and kind, like shoveling a sidewalk and driveway, you get on their good side.”

  I don’t say a word, but I shovel and help Lutz finish. He’s some kind of snow shoveler, and we’re done in less than five minutes. Then I hear the door open and Maureen’s voice.

  “John? Is that you?”

  Lutz bows.

  “Oh, John, thank you so much. Come inside. You must be freezing.”

  You would’ve thought Lutz cured cancer or something, the way Mom and Maureen dote on him. They give him hot chocolate and pieces of toast, and Mom is cooking bacon and scrambling eggs. Lutz looks at me and winks.

  And then it hits me. Lutz is right. I am an idiot.

  I jump up out of my seat and run to Miranda Mullaly’s house.

  As I’m running I can’t help thinking that Lutz is no fool. In fact, Lutz saves the day because I’m sure Miranda will invite me inside for hot chocolate and to meet her parents, and she’ll probably say, “This is the boy from school I was telling you about.”

  So when I get to Miranda’s house, I have a big smile on my face and I am ready to go. I mean, I have enough energy to dig out the Panama Canal.

  So you can imagine my disappointment when I arrive and I see Chollie Muller already digging the snow. Chollie is on the sidewalk, shoveling away like he’s been doing it his whole life. And if you drove by, you would’ve thought Chollie lived there. But of course I know better because I’ve seen Chollie at the basketball game and I’ve watched him with Miranda in the library. So I know Chollie’s very, very interested in Miranda. And now that I’m here, I bet he’s figured out that I’m very, very interested in Miranda also.

  So I start right in. Like I said, I have enough energy to shovel the whole town. I feel like I can move mountains of snow.

  Chollie’s on one end and I’m on the other and it’s a pretty big sidewalk. We race to the middle and we meet in no time. We both stop and look up at the house. The front door is right in the center, so we start clearing out the walkway and I can’t wait to get to the door because I’m just figuring Miranda will be there and I can’t wait to see her. And I just have to be the first one to see her.

  Chollie and I stop at the front door and I look back at the street and I can’t believe what I see. Across the street, Duke Samagura is shoveling out a car.

  I look back at the house we just shoveled out. Written there on the mailbox in really big letters is MINKIN. And then the door opens, and it’s Mr. Minkin, my English teacher.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” he says, just as if we were walking into his classroom. “I must thank you for shoveling my walk. . . .”

  I don’t listen to anything else he says because now I know Miranda Mullaly lives in the house across the street. Where Duke Samagura is shoveling snow.

  I dash across the street and start shoveling, but it all goes downhill from there.

  Miranda

  To: Erica

  From: Miranda

  Date: February 13, 2016 8:46 AM

  Subject: Call me!!!

  ———————————————————————————

  E,

  Call me when you get this! Please! Tom broke up with me . . .

  M

  CHOLLIE

  Billy wakes me early in the morning.

  “Let’s go, big fella,” he says. “It’s snowing.”

  “You wanna go sledding?” I ask.

  “No, Chollie, I’m tired.” He yawns and sort of looks like he’s been up all night. “I’m just giving you some advice.”

  I jump out of bed and look out the window. There sure is a lot of snow out there.

  “What’s the advice?”

  Billy stretches and yawns some more and says, “You’ve got to go out there and shovel your little lady friend’s walk.”

  “You think so?”

  “Absolutely. You’ll get in good with her old man, and girls love that.”

  I hop right to it, getting dressed as fast as I can, thinking the whole time how lucky I am to have a big brother like Billy who knows everything.

  Miranda’s house is only a couple of blocks away. The world is so quiet this early in the morning and the only sound seems to be the snow crunching under my boots. It’s really nice. And I can’t help but think the only thing to make it better would be walking along with Miranda. But it is all okay because I’ll probably be seeing her soon enough. In fact, I’m pretty certain she’ll invite me in for pancakes and bacon.

  But then I get all worried about why she wasn’t at the dance. I hope she’s okay and it wasn’t anything bad, like her mom or dad getting sick or maybe her pet dying. There are lots of possible reasons, but I can’t figure any of them out. And more than anything, I’m glad Billy wasn’t there when I got home last night because I didn’t want to disappoint him after he did so much work to get me ready for the dance.

  When I get to her house, I start with the sidewalk. But before I even get a chance to really start digging, I see Sam Dolan. What’s he doing here? I get pretty competitive and we both start digging and shoveling. In seconds we’re right smack in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the house. I wait for Sam to say something. He always has something snarky to say. But instead he just starts shoveling up the walkway to the house. And I’m right there with him.

  I’m really confused about what Sam is doing here. Unless, of course, he’s in love with Miranda, too. Billy always says there’s going to be competition for a great girl like Miranda. I’m just about to ask him what’s up when Mr. Minkin comes out of the house, and we realize we’ve been shoveling the wrong walk. That’s when I see Duke in the driveway across the street, digging out someone else’s car, and Sam and I must have the same thought. We leave Mr. Minkin at his door, scratching his head.

  As we race across the street, I see the mailbox that, sure enough, says MULLALY, so I feel good about everything now. At least I know I’m not wasting my time. Sam and I start shoveling her sidewalk.

  When we meet in the middle, Duke marches up to us from behind the car. Then he starts messing up all the work we did, but I don’t care. I really don’t. I’m just going to clear the walkway up t
o the front door and then ring the doorbell and introduce myself to Mr. Mullaly. I really am. I’m not going to miss free throws anymore. I’m not going to fumble footballs anymore. I’m not going to be afraid to ask Miranda to dances anymore.

  To: Erica

  From: Miranda

  Date: February 13, 2016 9:02 AM

  Subject: Call me!!!

  ———————————————————————————

  E

  I called him, and do you know what he said? He said, “Why are you calling?” And I didn’t know what to say. And after I didn’t say anything Tom said, “Miranda, it’s over.” And I wanted to ask why, why, why, why, why but I didn’t.

  Call me if you get a chance.

  M

  Duke

  The worst invention in the history of the world must be the snooze button. Thanks to this scourge against humanity, I woke up late and had to scramble to get to Miranda Mullaly’s house so I could shovel her walk. I looked sadly at my bow tie one last time, then closed my bedroom door and left for Miranda’s house on 1615 Cherry Lane.

  I still had a bitter taste in my mouth because of the disaster at the dance, but I felt alive again walking through the winter wonderland. The scene reminded me of the poem “Snow flakes” by Emily Dickinson that Mr. Minkin had unsuccessfully tried to teach us.

  I counted till they danced so

  Their slippers leaped the town—

  And then I took a pencil

  To note the rebels down—

  And then they grew so jolly

  I did resign the prig—

  And ten of my once stately toes

  Are marshalled for a jig!

  Just to help you understand how high my spirits were, I was thinking on the stroll over how Mr. Mullaly would be so impressed by my work ethic he would invite me in for cocoa or a warm cider. My conversation would, of course, be so mature and erudite25 Mr. Mullaly would probably offer me a job at his law firm, though I don’t know for sure if he’s a lawyer. Sadly, I would have to tell him my plans for Harvard, and then of course I would offer to keep an eye on Miranda while we were students together.

  So despite the disaster of the dance, I felt pretty good about my prospects as I approached the Mullaly house armed with my shovel.

  And then I stopped, shocked—no, absolutely stupefied—at what I saw happening across the street from the Mullaly house. There, shoveling like men possessed, were Chollie and Sam. I walked quietly through the snow and up the Mullaly driveway so the two imbeciles wouldn’t be able to see me. Then, behind the car, I quietly began to shovel out the driveway.

  When I looked up to check on my nemeses, they saw me and ran across the street. Sadly, because of the snow, no cars were able to run them over. With the eagerness of puppies they began to shovel the sidewalk and got a fair amount done. In fact, I almost thought they were working together to foil my impeccable plan.

  When I had the car properly dug out, I decided to have a word with the two bozos. I approached them, my shovel on my shoulder like a long rifle.26

  “What are you two doing here?” I asked them.

  They continued to shovel and were now clearing the walkway to the front door. I had no choice at this point but to go over to the sidewalk and cover it with the snow they had already cleared. And that’s exactly what I did. When Sam saw what I was doing, he went over to the car and began to cover up what I had moments earlier so expertly cleared. Chollie continued to shovel up the walkway to the front door.

  In order to stop Sam from destroying my hard work, I nailed him in the ear with a snowball. Sam is so dumb he couldn’t think of anything else but to return a snowball my way. I easily ducked to avoid the onslaught but Sam continued to pepper snowballs in my direction. Then suddenly I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Could it be Miranda looking out her bedroom window? At that same moment, Sam finally hit his mark and got me square in the face.

  I slowly wiped the snow from my left eye and walked with purpose toward Sam to whack him in the head with my shovel. It was something I should have done a long time ago. It was something I should have done when he put the thumbtack on my seat.

  As I approached, Sam was preparing to nail Chollie with a snowball to keep him from clearing the walkway to the house. I let loose with the shovel to clobber Sam the moment he threw his snowball at Chollie. I was going to let Sam have it for not only the snowball and thumbtack but for making fun of my briefcase and, yes, for the way he looked at my bow tie last night.

  Alas, I was undone by my desire for revenge against Sam. I swung the shovel so hard I slipped, missing Sam and smashing the passenger window of Mr. Mullaly’s Mercedes-Benz. The impact set off the car alarm, which I can attest works very well.

  The only saving grace was Sam’s snowball. It missed Chollie, who ducked right in time, and scored a direct hit into Mr. Mullaly’s face the moment he opened his front door. Mr. Mullaly, a hirsute27 and ugly beast, stumbled and wailed, waving his great arms and falling back into the house and flat on his derrière.

  On my back, I was momentarily stunned. But there was little time to collect my thoughts before Mr. Mullaly regained his footing and jumped out the front door again. The scene was chaotic, what with the car alarm blaring and Chollie and Sam screaming.

  Mr. Mullaly slipped and fell once again, raging and bellowing and screaming, “My back! My new car! My back!”

  I ran and ran and ran, not stopping until I reached the warmth of my house.

  As there was no report of a massacre on Cherry Lane on the evening news, I can only sadly surmise that Mr. Mullaly did not catch up with Sam and Chollie.

  Miranda

  To: Erica

  From: Miranda

  Date: February 13, 2016 9:13 AM

  Subject: Thanks

  ———————————————————————————

  E,

  You’ll never guess what happened after we hung up (thanks for being there, by the way!). Chollie, Duke, and Sam were shoveling our walk and then started fighting. They attacked my father with a barrage of snowballs and smashed the window of my dad’s new car.

  My dad flipped out and hurt his back chasing them. I’m so embarrassed.

  This house is crazy. Can you come over? You just have to see it.

  M

  15

  The Worst Weekend in the History of Bad Weekends

  SAM

  I’ve had a lot of bad weekends, but this is the worst weekend in the history of bad weekends. It’s without a doubt the worst weekend since last Halloween, when Foxxy and I got nailed throwing toilet paper into the trees outside of the school. Why Lichtensteiner was at school that night, I’ll never know. And this is much worse than the weekend I was punished for starting a teeny-weeny little fire in the science lab. And even worse than the weekend I was punished after using the school intercom to find out if anyone had seen my missing winter gloves.

  This weekend is the worst because I haven’t been caught yet.

  After narrowly escaping the clutches of Mr. Mullaly, I am on edge. I mean, really on edge. My heart skips a beat and I jump every time a phone rings. And then when I forget for just a moment about the snow-shoveling disaster, I remember that Miranda wasn’t at the dance, and that hurts, too.

  To make matters worse, John Lutz is still hanging around the house. When I go into the kitchen to make a sandwich, he’s there. When I go into the den to watch some television, he’s there, too. And he’s got his dirty hand wrapped around the remote control. I swear Lutz is like a female Erica Dickerson. He’s everywhere you don’t want him to be.

  I’m about to tell him to stop changing the channel when the phone rings.

  “Sam,” Mom calls from the kitchen, “it’s for you.”

  I freeze in my seat and suddenly begin to swe
at. And I’m really thirsty. It must be Mr. Mullaly calling to tell me he’s going to beat the stuffing out of me because of the snowball.

  “Go on, get the phone, moron,” Lutz says.

  I still can’t move, and that’s saying something because I hate being in the same room as Lutz. Then Mom comes into the room and she’s talking on the phone.

  “Okay, and best to your mom,” she says before tossing it to me.

  “Hello . . .” I say.

  “Sam, Foxxy here.”

  For the first time since forever, or I suppose since an hour or two, I feel alive again.

  “Foxxy! Foxxy!” I turn and look at Lutz and point to the phone. “It’s Foxxy,” I tell Lutz. I just have to share my relief with somebody.

  “Foxxy, what’s happening?” I ask.

  “You up for some sledding?”

  “You bet,” I say. It’s just what I need. I need to talk to Foxxy and tell him what’s happening. If anyone can help me out of this mess and make me feel better, it’s Foxxy.

  “Great, Holly and I are heading over to the golf course. I heard the sledding is awesome. Do you want us to stop by on the way over?”

  “No, no,” I say. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Hey, you okay?” Foxxy asks.

  “I’m fine. Did you have fun last night?”

  “It was great. Holly and I had the best time.”

  “Great,” I say. “I’ll see you for sledding later on, okay?”

  But I have no intention of sledding with Foxxy and Holly Culver. I saw enough of them last night. And believe me, they wouldn’t be talking to old Sam Dolan while we were sledding. I feel bad enough without being a third wheel.

  So I spend the rest of the day in my room. It’s one of these days where I just can’t stand any other human beings.

  When I finally emerge, everyone is cuddled up in the living room. And Lutz is acting like he’s a part of the family. Sharon, Maureen, Mom, and Dad have hot chocolates and they’re sharing the covers. And Lutz is sitting right in the middle, where I should be sitting.