by Dan Gutman
“Two minutes to airtime!” shouted Alexia, our director.
Ms. Cuddy gathered us all around.
“Okay, this is it, guys,” she said. “Our first broadcast. Are you ready to make history?”
“Yeah!” we all replied.
“I can’t hear you!” said Ms. Cuddy.
“YEAH!” we all replied.
I sat behind the desk and adjusted the mic. Emily ran over and stuck some furry brush in my face.
“Hey, knock it off!” I told her.
“I need to powder your nose,” she said. “It’s shiny!”
“I don’t care,” I said. “Leave my nose alone! Get out of here!”
Emily started crying and ran out of the conference room. What a crybaby.
“One minute!” said Alexia.
There was electricity in the air. Well, not really. If there was electricity in the air, we would get electrocuted.
As I stared at the camera, I felt myself starting to sweat. Every kid in the school would be watching me. My parents would be watching at home. A bunch of strangers would be watching too.
Why had I agreed to do this? I wished we had spent the million dollars on pizza and ice cream and candy. I wanted to run away to Antarctica and go live with the penguins.
“Are you nervous, A.J.?” asked Ms. Cuddy.
“Yeah,” I said. “I think I might throw up.”
“Good,” she replied. “That means you’re excited. Remember to speak slowly and clearly.”
“Three . . . two . . . one . . . ,” said Alexia.
A little red light lit up on top of the camera. I took a deep breath.
“Action!” said Alexia.
“My name is A.J. and here are the morning announcements for Ella Mentry School,” I said. “Today is Thursday. The weather outside is cloudy and cold. Today’s lunch will be chicken nuggets. We have one birthday. Rocco Garcia in fourth grade turns ten years old today. Please stand for the Pledge of Allegiance.”
Outside the conference room, I could hear lots of kids reciting the pledge.
“Thank you,” I said when they were done. “This is A.J., signing off. Have a great Thursday!”
“And . . . cut!” shouted Alexia.
The red light on top of the camera went off. Everybody started clapping.
“Nice job, A.J.!” said Ms. Cuddy.
“You nailed it, dude!” said Michael.
That’s when the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened. Ms. Cuddy went to turn off the TV, but she must have pushed the wrong button because she changed the channel instead.
Some girl was on the screen. She was sitting at a desk in front of a microphone, and she was wearing a funny hat, fake nose, and glasses.
“This is Morgan Brocklebank,” she said, “and this has been the morning announcements from Dirk School.”
WHAT?! Dirk School is on the other side of town. We all call it Dork School.
“One last thing before I sign off,” Morgan Brocklebank said. “We want to give a special thank-you to Mrs. Ella Mentry, who donated the money for us to start our TV station.”
WHAT?!
“Mrs. Mentry gave them a million dollars too?” shouted Andrea.
“That’s not fair!” shouted Neil.
“I thought she only gave the money to our school!” shouted Alexia.
Everybody was upset. But one person was more upset than anyone else.
Ms. Cuddy.
Ms. Cuddy was staring at the TV with her mouth open. She didn’t say anything. But I could tell she was really angry. She made both of her hands into fists, and it looked like her eyes were on fire.
“Those dirty, rotten . . .”
She was mumbling to herself. Then she started shouting.
“How dare they start up a TV station at Dirk School the same day we start our TV station? This is horrible! I won’t stand for it!”
She was really freaking out! I thought she was going to throw something. I had never seen a grown-up get so mad.
That’s when Mr. Klutz’s voice came over the loudspeaker.
“Great job with the morning announcements, kids!” he said. “I was watching in my office. Terrific, A.J.! And I just heard that fifty-four people in town were watching you at home.”
“How many people were watching the Dirk School morning announcements?” asked Ms. Cuddy.
“Sixty,” said Mr. Klutz.
“Noooooo!” shouted Ms. Cuddy as she fell to her knees. She looked like she had just seen the earth destroyed by a meteor.
“I can’t believe those Dirk jerks beat us!” she moaned.
“Does it really matter how many people tune in to watch us?” asked Andrea. “I mean, it’s just the morning announcements.”
Ms. Cuddy jumped to her feet.
“Of course it matters!” she shouted. “We are winners at Ella Mentry School, and don’t you forget it! Nobody beats us. We’re number one! I didn’t go to film school for four years to come in second!”
She started pacing back and forth.
“We need more eyeballs,” she muttered. “How are we going to get more eyeballs?”
That was weird. Why would she want more eyeballs? Aren’t two eyeballs enough?*
Ms. Cuddy is nutty.
“Do you mean we need more people to watch our morning announcements?” asked Andrea.
“Yes!” Ms. Cuddy replied. “We need to do something tomorrow morning that will blow Dirk School out of the water.”
Why is everybody always talking about boats?
“We could get a funny hat and have A.J. put on a fake nose and glasses,” suggested Michael.
“No, Dirk already did that,” Ms. Cuddy said, still pacing back and forth. “We have to come up with something new and different. A.J., do you have any special talents that nobody else can do?”
“I can make armpit farts,” I told her.
“That’s a special talent?”
“A.J. is good at telling jokes,” said Ryan. “He told jokes in the school talent show.”
“That might work,” said Ms. Cuddy. “A.J., tomorrow morning I want you to come in here with your best jokes.”
“Does that mean I don’t write the scripts anymore?” asked Andrea.
“You help with the lights tomorrow,” Ms. Cuddy told Andrea.
Andrea looked all mad. I stuck out my tongue at her to make her madder. Ha! I would be in front of the camera while she would have to lug lights around. This was the greatest day of my life.
I spent that night practicing my jokes. The next morning, everybody was running around like crazy to get ready. I sat behind the desk. My face felt sweaty. Emily tried to powder my nose, but I told her to leave me alone.
“Okay, let’s do this thing!” shouted Ms. Cuddy. “Are you ready, A.J.?”
“Yeah!”
“I can’t hear you!”
“YEAH!”
“Three . . . two . . . one . . . ,” said Alexia.
The red light lit up.
“Action!” said Alexia.
“My name is A.J. and I hate the morning announcements,” I said. “Why do we have announcements anyway? We might as well sit at home and tell jokes instead. By the way, speaking of sitting at home, my dad used to work at a calendar factory, but he got fired. Do you know why?”
“Why?” everybody shouted.
“He took too many days off,” I said. “Hey, do you know what’s bad for your health?”
“What?” everybody shouted.
“Too many birthdays,” I said. “What did Earth say to Mars?”
“What?” everybody shouted.
“Get a life!” I said. “And speaking of dead things, do you want some of my old, dead batteries? They’re free of charge. But seriously, folks, what did the tie say to the hat?”
“What?” everybody shouted.
“You go on a head. I’ll hang around,” I said. “Hey, speaking of hanging around, my mom said I was outstanding, because I stand outside a lot. And sp
eaking of being outside, basketball sure is a messy sport, isn’t it? The players dribble all over the floor! And speaking of messy things, did you know that watermelons have really fancy weddings? Well, they cantaloupe.”
I told a few more jokes, and then Alexia gave me the sign that time was almost up.
“Well, that’s our morning announcements for today,” I said. “This is A.J., signing off. You stay classy, Ella Mentry students.”
“And . . . cut!” shouted Alexia.
The red light on top of the camera turned off.
“Great, A.J.!” said Ms. Cuddy. “I’d like to see Dirk School top that!”
She went over to change the channel to the Dirk morning announcements. That girl Morgan Brocklebank was on the screen again. She was wearing sunglasses.
“Please stand for the pledge,” she said.
At that moment, colored lights began to flash. A drum machine started to play. And then Morgan Brocklebank started rapping. . . .
“I pledge allegiance to the flag,
’cause if I don’t it’s such a drag.
Flags are red and white and blue.
Why they are I have no clue.”
“She’s rapping her own pledge!” shouted Ms. Cuddy.
“Our beautiful and spacious skies,
Mom and picnics, apple pies.
Dig our amber waves of grain,
Purple mountains, fruited plain.
Broad stripes and bright stars,
Super Bowls and fast cars.
To the republic for which it stands,
Now it’s time to all join hands.
“Star-spangled banners wave,
For the free and for the brave.
We pledge allegiance to our flag,
And when we’re done we’ll go play tag.
“Have a great day at Dirk School!” shouted Morgan Brocklebank.
Ms. Cuddy looked like she was going to explode.
“That Dirk kid did a rap version of the Pledge of Allegiance!” she shouted. “Why didn’t we think of that?”
A few minutes later Mrs. Patty came in to give us the bad news—eighty people had tuned in to watch the Dirk School announcements. Only sixty had watched ours.
“Nooooooooo!” shouted Ms. Cuddy, falling to her knees. “They beat us again!”
“I’ll do better next time,” I promised. “I’ll have the whole weekend to work on new jokes.”
“No more jokes!” Ms. Cuddy shouted as she got up. “Dirk School makes their morning announcements fun and lively. Our show has to be more entertaining. So I have made a big decision. We need to bring in some fresh blood around here.”
Fresh blood? Gross! Why would you bring blood to a school?
“If one anchor is good, two anchors would be twice as good,” Ms. Cuddy said. “So, starting Monday, A.J., we’re going to team you up with a co-anchor. And the co-anchor will be . . . Andrea.”
WHAT?!
“Thank you thank you thank you!” Andrea said. “I always wanted to be on TV!”
It wasn’t fair! Starting the TV station was my idea, not Andrea’s. I was supposed to be the anchor. This was the worst day of my life.
“Should I write a script for Monday, Ms. Cuddy?” Andrea asked.
“No,” she replied. “I chose you to be co-anchor so you and A.J. can banter with each other.”
“Banter?” I asked. “What does that mean?”
“Just talk to each other,” Ms. Cuddy told us. “You two have great chemistry together.”
“Ooooo!” Ryan said. “A.J. and Andrea have great chemistry together. They must be in love!”
“When are you gonna get married?” asked Michael.
On Monday there were two chairs at the anchor desk—one for me and one for Little Miss Know-It-All. Andrea was sitting there, getting her nose powdered by Emily. The guys were working with the cameras and stuff.
“Hey, what about me?” I shouted. “Aren’t you going to powder my nose?”
“You told me to leave you alone,” Emily replied.
“I want my nose powdered!” I shouted.
“Thirty seconds to airtime!” shouted Alexia.
We were all on pins and needles.
Well, not really. We were sitting on chairs. If we were on pins and needles, it would have hurt.
“Okay, it’s go time, folks!” said Ms. Cuddy. “Are my anchors ready?”
“Yeah!” Andrea and I said.
“I can’t hear you!”
“YEAH!”
“Break a leg out there,” said Ms. Cuddy.
What?! Why would she want us to break our legs? That made no sense at all.
“Three . . . two . . . one . . . ,” said Alexia. “Action!”
“Welcome to the morning announcements,” I said. “My name is A.J. and I hate school.”
“My name is Andrea and I love school,” said Andrea. “Should we start with the weather, Arlo?”
“Sure,” I said. “The weather outside is—”
I didn’t get the chance to finish my sentence because Andrea interrupted me.
“Instead of talking about today’s weather,” she said, “I’d like to talk about tomorrow’s weather.”
“What?” I asked. “Who cares about tomorrow’s weather? We can talk about tomorrow’s weather tomorrow.”
“Did you say tomorrow?” Andrea asked.
That’s when she did the most amazing thing in the history of the world. She got up and started singing!
“The sun’ll come out . . . tomorrow . . .”
Oh no! Andrea was singing that dumb song that she always sings! She threw her arms out to her sides and sang the whole song. It was horrible. After that was over, she sang another song about a hard-knock life or something. I’m not sure of the words because I was covering my ears the whole time. I thought I was gonna die.
Finally, Andrea stopped singing and sat down. She looked at me like it was my turn to start talking.
“Uh, so do we have any birthdays at Ella Mentry School today?” I asked.
“There are no birthdays today, Arlo,” Andrea said. “So instead, I’d like to do a little dance.”
WHAT?!
Before I could say anything, Andrea had climbed up on the desk and started clog dancing, which is some kind of dance that plumbers do.
Andrea takes clog-dancing lessons after school. In fact, Andrea takes classes in everything after school. If they gave classes in nose picking, she would probably take them so she could get better at it.
Finally, Andrea finished her dumb dance and sat back down. Then she looked at me again like I was supposed to say something.
“Lunch for today will be macaroni and—”
“I’m sorry, but that’s all the time we have for the announcements,” Andrea said. “Have a great day, Ella Mentry students, and we’ll see you right here . . . tomorrow.”
Then she started singing again.
“I love ya, tomorrow; you’re always a day away.”
“And . . . cut!” shouted Alexia.
The red light on top of the camera turned off.
“Awesome!” said Ms. Cuddy. “That was fantastic, Andrea! Let’s see what those Dirk jerks are doing with their morning announcements.”
She flipped the channel to the Dirk station. It looked like every kid in Dirk School was out on their playground. They were all singing and dancing, and they were dressed like werewolves.
“WOW!” everybody said, which is “MOM” upside down.
“That’s Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’!” Andrea shouted. “I’ve seen that video!”*
“Noooooooo!” shouted Ms. Cuddy. “Not ‘Thriller’!”
Then she fell on the floor and started sobbing.
It didn’t take long for the bad news to arrive. Our ratings went down! Only forty people tuned in to see our morning announcements. Ninety people watched Dirk School put on “Thriller.”
“This is a disaster!” Ms. Cuddy moaned. “Everything we do, Dirk does better.”
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I must admit, I was secretly happy that our ratings went down. If Andrea’s singing and dancing had been a big hit, we would never have heard the end of it. But Ms. Cuddy was really upset. She looked like her dog had died or something.
“It’s okay, Ms. Cuddy,” Ryan said. “It doesn’t matter to us how many eyeballs we have.”
Suddenly, Ms. Cuddy jumped up. She had that fire in her eyes again.
“Well, it matters to me!” she shouted. “I’m not a quitter! If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again! That’s what we do. We never give up! Right?”
“Right,” we all said.
“I can’t hear you!”
“RIGHT!”
Ms. Cuddy must have hearing problems or something. She’s always saying she can’t hear us. She should go to a doctor and get her ears checked.
She paced back and forth for a few minutes, and then she snapped her fingers.
“I’ve got it!” she said.
Grown-ups always snap their fingers when they have a good idea. Nobody knows why.
“You’ve got what?” we all asked.
“We need to get your parents involved so they’ll watch our station instead of the Dirk station!” she said. “And I know just how to do it!”
When we came in the next morning, Ms. Cuddy handed scripts to me and Andrea. Emily powdered our noses. The red light went on. Alexia shouted, “Action!”
“My name is A.J. and I hate school,” I said.
“My name is Andrea and I love school,” said Andrea. “The weather today is chilly. We’ll be right back after this message.”
The red light went off. We looked up at the TV screen. And you’ll never believe in a million hundred years who was on it.
My mother!
“Oh no!” I groaned.
“Hi, I’m A.J.’s mom,” my mother said. “I wanted to tell you that I love you, and I’m so proud of you being such a big TV star and everything. Oh, one more thing, A.J. Clean your room. It’s a pigsty.”
“Oh, snap!” said Ryan. “Your mom just said you were a pig.”
The red light went on again. I looked at my script.
