by D. L. Green
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1:
A Wonderful Day, If You Like Being Pushed and Punished
CHAPTER 2:
Still One of the Worst Days Ever in My Entire Life, But with Some Hope at the End of This Chapter
CHAPTER 3:
One of the Worst Days Ever in My Entire Life Gets Even Worse
CHAPTER 4:
On the Bright Side, Waggles Didn’t Throw Up Again
CHAPTER 5:
Return of the Quicksand
CHAPTER 6:
The Evil Giggler Strikes Again
CHAPTER 7:
Ferocious Gas, a Flying Hairpiece, and Fighting Fish
CHAPTER 8:
This Project Is a Disaster
CHAPTER 9:
My Teacher’s Fake Hair and Other Scary Gross Stuff
CHAPTER 10:
Guess Who Won the Science Fair Prize
About the Author
About the Illustrator
Do You Despise Science?
Big Words According to Zeke
Make Your Own Quicksand
Copyright Page
Buy the Book
It was one of the worst days ever in my entire life. It all started during recess on a cold November day in my town of Cheeseham, Massachusetts.
I was on the school playground, playing handball with Hector Cruz. Hector had just moved here. My best friend had just moved away. I hoped Hector and I would become good friends. He was going to come to my house today for the first time.
Then a fly flew toward me. It was ugly and scary. I think all flies are ugly and scary. In fact, I think all insects are ugly and scary. Even ladybugs. Please don’t tell anyone that.
The ugly and scary fly looked like it was headed right to my face, maybe even into one of my eyeballs.
I ran away as fast as I could. I was so scared that I didn’t watch where I was going.
I ran right into Graceville. Graceville is the part of the playground that Grace Chang named after herself. She reserved it every day for herself and her friends, Emma G. and Emma J. She wouldn’t let anyone else use Graceville.
The school rules don’t allow reserved seating or standing. But no one wanted to argue with Grace Chang.
Though Grace Chang is a short, skinny girl, she is evil. Also, she has very long fingernails.
Grace grabbed the back of my jacket. “How dare you set foot in Graceville!” she shouted.
“How dare you,” said Emma G., who was standing on one side of Grace.
“How dare you,” said Emma J., who was standing on the other side of Grace.
Then Grace pushed me down really hard.
I grabbed onto something to ease my fall.
But the fall did not ease.
I heard a ripping sound.
Then I heard Grace shriek.
Then I fell on my butt really hard.
I realized this day was one of the worst days ever in my entire life.
Then it got worse. Grace yelled, “Zeke ‘the Freak’ Meeks, you just destroyed my backpack! Emmas, hold him down. I’m going to find our teacher.”
Emma G. and Emma J. each put a foot on my chest so I couldn’t get up.
By the way, my real name is not Zeke the Freak Meeks. It’s Ezekiel Heathcliff Meeks, which is a pretty bad name. But it’s not as bad as Zeke the Freak Meeks. Everyone at school besides Grace calls me Zeke, which is a pretty good name.
At the time, I was not thinking about my name. I was thinking that Emma G. and Emma J. needed to clean their shoes.
Emma G. had gum on the bottom of her shoe. Emma J. had dog poop on the bottom of her shoe. Since they had their feet on me, I now had gum and dog poop on my shirt.
I was also thinking about the ugly and scary fly that was buzzing over my head.
Hector Cruz came over. He looked down at me and asked, “What happened?”
I didn’t want to admit that I was scared of flies. I also didn’t want to admit that little Grace Chang had pushed me down. I also didn’t want to admit that two other little girls had me pinned to the ground. So I said,
Grace came back with our teacher, Mr. McNutty. Grace was crying. She has an amazing ability to cry whenever she wants to. One day, she may be famous as an actress in sad movies, or for having the world’s longest fingernails. But today, she was just an evil third-grade girl who knew how to fake cry and had long nails.
“Zeke Meeks destroyed my backpack,” Grace cried to our teacher.
“It’s not destroyed,” I said.
Grace cried even harder. “The.” She sobbed. “Strap.” She sobbed again. “Is.” She sobbed again. “Broken.”
Then she cried and shouted “Oh, oh, oh, oh” a bunch of times. Her fake crying was really impressive.
Emma G. and Emma J. went over to Grace and hugged her.
This allowed me to stand up.
This allowed Grace to blow her nose on my shirt. My shirt now had gum, dog poop, and Grace’s snot on it. I told you this was one of the worst days ever in my entire life.
When the teacher wasn’t looking, Grace smiled at me.
Hector Cruz told Grace, “If you ever cried for real, no one would believe it. You’re just like The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Except you’re not a boy. And you don’t talk about wolves. Okay, you’re just The Girl Who Cried.”
“You hurt my feelings!” Grace fake cried. When the teacher wasn’t looking, she winked at Hector.
Then she said, “Zeke should pay for a new backpack for me.”
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” Mr. McNutty said.
“That’s not fair,” Hector said.
“And he probably should sit in the classroom during lunchtime,” Grace added.
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” the teacher said.
“That’s not fair,” Hector said.
“And he should give me fifty dollars for a new backpack,” Grace said.
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” the teacher said.
“That’s not fair,” Hector said.
“That’s settled,” the teacher said.
“But Grace pushed me down. I just grabbed her backpack to ease my fall,” I said.
“Sweet little Grace Chang would never push anyone,” Mr. McNutty said. Then he walked away.
Grace waved her hand in front of my face. “Do you see these fingernails?” she asked.
“Of course I do,” I said. “They’re right in front of my face. Plus, they’re so long that everyone on the playground can see them.”
“People in airplanes and astronauts in space can probably see them, too,” Hector said.
“Thank you,” she said.
“That’s not a compliment,” Hector said.
“My long fingernails are very useful. If you don’t give me fifty dollars for a new backpack, I will use my long nails to scratch your face off,” Grace said. “Now get out of Graceville.”
Emma G. and Emma J. said, “Now get out of Graceville.”
So we did.
The ugly and scary fly followed us.
I didn’t think one of the worst days ever in my entire life could get any worse. I was wrong. It did. We had a science lesson. I despised science. Science lessons were either hard or boring or both. Usually both. I despised science even more than I despised bedtime.
Today, science was especially despicable. We had to study cockroaches.
Did I tell you the one thing I am extremely afraid of? Oh, yes, I just reread the first chapter. I’ll remind you in case you forgot. I’m terrified of insects of all kinds. On my list of scariest things in the universe, insects are the eleventh. The first ten are Grace Chang’s l
ong fingernails.
I didn’t want anyone to find out I was afraid of insects. They could tease me or put insects in my lunch bag. Or they could tease me and put insects in my lunch bag.
So when Mr. McNutty projected a picture of an ugly and scary cockroach on the wall, I didn’t scream or run out of the room. But it was very hard not to do both of these things.
Mr. McNutty handed each of us an article about cockroaches.
He said, “Read the article and look at the picture of the cockroach. Then draw a cockroach, label the parts of its body, and list five facts about cockroaches.”
I already knew five facts about cockroaches:
They are ugly and scary insects.
I have nightmares about them crawling on my face.
There should be a law banning all cockroaches and other insects.
They terrify me.
There is no way I could do a science project about cockroaches.
Then Mr. McNutty told everyone to work with the person next to them.
Victoria Crow sat next to me. She said, “I’m the smartest kid in third grade.”
I said, “I know that.”
“Everyone knows that,” Victoria said. “I’ll take charge of this project. Zeke, you draw the cockroach. You don’t need to be smart for that. I’ll read the article, write down the most important facts about cockroaches, and label the parts of the cockroach’s body.”
“Okay,” I said in a shaky voice.
My hands shook, too.
They shook so much that I couldn’t draw a cockroach.
Victoria read the article and circled important cockroach facts.
I was still shaking.
She started writing.
I was still shaking.
She finished writing.
I was still shaking.
She snatched the paper from my desk and said, “You’re no use.” Then she drew the cockroach herself.
I despised science even more than I despised shopping for underwear.
We were the first ones finished with the project. Actually, Victoria was the first one finished with the project. All I had done was shake.
Mr. McNutty looked it over. “It’s perfect,” he said.
“Of course it is. I’m the smartest kid in third grade,” Victoria said.
“You and Zeke make a good team,” Mr. McNutty said.
“No we don’t,” she said.
“This is good practice for the science fair,” he said.
“Science fair?” I asked in a shaky voice.
“Science fair,” Mr. McNutty repeated. Then he said loudly, “Class, we are going to have a science fair. Everyone will do a science project.”
I raised my hand and asked, “Can I team up with Victoria again?”
“You and Victoria make a good team,” our teacher said.
“No we don’t,” Victoria said.
“But everyone is going to do his or her own project,” the teacher said.
Victoria squealed,
I muttered, “I despise science even more than I despise lima beans.”
Mr. McNutty said, “Anyone who doesn’t do a science fair project will miss recess every day for a week.”
I put my head on my desk.
Then Mr. McNutty said, “The person with the best project will get a fifty-dollar prize.”
I lifted my head. “I will win the prize,” I said.
“No you won’t,” Victoria said. “I’m the smartest kid in third grade. I won the class speech contest, essay award, and spelling bee. I will win the science fair prize, too.”
“No you won’t,” I said. I wanted to win the contest. It was true that Victoria Crow was the smartest kid in third grade.
It was also true that I despised science even more than I despised being sent to my room. It was also true that the only contest I had ever won was a burping contest. But I would work as hard as I could to do a prize-winning science project.
I had to win. If I didn’t get the fifty-dollar prize and give the money to Grace Chang, she would rip my face off.
After school, my mom said the same three words she always said: “How was school?”
It was horrible, terrible, and awful. As I mentioned, it was one of the worst days ever in my entire life. But I answered my mom’s question with the same three words I always said: “School was fine.”
Our dog jumped on me. His name is Waggles. Believe me, I did not choose that dumb name for him.
I had wanted to call him Rocko or Brutus or Hulk. But I was outvoted by my sisters and my mom. They thought the name Waggles was cute.
Waggles is a great dog, but he isn’t cute. He’s a beast with scruffy fur, droopy ears, yellow teeth, and a drooling problem. Today, my little sister, Mia, had put a big pink bow on his head and a pink ballet tutu around his stomach. Even in pink, Waggles wasn’t cute.
I petted him. “Your outfit is so wrong,” I said.
He slobbered all over me. I think that meant he agreed with me.
Mia was not paying attention to us. She was watching Princess Sing-Along on TV. She sang along with the princess on the show. Actually, she screeched along with the princess on the show. They screeched, “Don’t stain your nice clothes, la la la. Don’t pick your nice nose, la la la. Don’t let out a slurp, la la la. Don’t let out a burp, la la la.”
Mom let me use the computer. Mr. McNutty had given us a list of websites with science projects on them. I scrolled through the projects.
Aha! I found one that looked like a sure science fair winner. I looked up from the computer and said, “Mom, I’m going to make powerful explosive dynamite.”
“No, you’re not,” she said.
“Why not?” I asked.
She said something, but I couldn’t hear her. Mia was shrieking along to the TV show. “Wipe your tush after a number two, la la la. Make sure you get off all the poo, la la la.”
“What did you say?” I asked Mom.
“Wipe your tush after a number two, la la la. Make sure you get off all the poo, la la la,” Mia repeated.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” I said.
“Oh,” Mia said. “Well, Zeke, make sure you wipe your tush after a number two anyway.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I told Mia. “Now what did you say, Mom?”
“I said you’re too young to make dynamite,” Mom said.
I sighed. “How old do I have to be?”
“Ninety-six,” she said. “Find a safer project.”
Finally, I found an experiment that looked good and safe. I could find out which type of cheese grew the most mold. Cheese was popular at my school. So was gross stuff like mold.
So my project probably would be popular, too.
I got slices of American, cheddar, and Swiss cheese from the refrigerator. I put them each on a plate. Then I labeled each slice and predicted which type of cheese would spoil first. I chose American, because I knew some spoiled American kids. I didn’t know any Swiss kids or cheddar kids.
My older sister, Alexa, came into the kitchen and asked me something.
“What?” I asked.
Mia and Princess Sing-along were shrieking, “Brush your teeth two times a day, la la la. Or they’ll get stinky and gray, la la la.”
“I asked you what you were doing,” Alexa said.
“It’s a science experiment to see what kind of cheese spoils the fastest,” I told her.
She wrinkled her nose. “Eww. Gross. I don’t want smelly, moldy cheese in my house.”
“Zeke has to do this project for school,” Mom said.
“Yeah,” I said.
Alexa stomped into her bedroom and slammed the door.
“Make sure you leave the cheese in a place that Mia can’t reach,” Mom said.
“Okay,” I said. I put the plates of cheese on a high shelf in the kitchen.
Then Hector came over. He asked, “Can I borrow your jacket. I need it for my science project?”
“Sure,” I said. “
What science project are you doing?”
“It’s a secret,” he said.
“Mine isn’t a secret. Do you want to see it?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said.
I took down the plates of cheese, put them on the kitchen counter, and explained my project.
“It will be so cool once the cheese gets green and brown splotches all over it,” Hector said.
“I know. And I can’t wait until it starts stinking,” I said.
“Eww. Gross,” my sister Alexa called out from her room.
My sister Mia sang, “Even in a rush, la la la, don’t forget to flush, la la la. Wash your hands to kill the germs, la la la. Otherwise you could get worms, la la la.”
“Eww. Gross,” Alexa yelled again.
Hector and I went into my room and played with my LEGOS.
We had just finished building a robot-horse when my mom called, “Ezekiel Heathcliff Meeks! Get in the kitchen right now!”
I walked into the kitchen. Hector followed me.
Waggles was lying on the floor. Next to him was a mound of dog barf. The barf was orange and yellow. It had chunks of cheese in it.
My sister Alexa walked by. She plugged her nose and said, “Eww. Gross. Eww. Gross. Eww. Gross.”
My sister Mia came into the kitchen. She reached down and said, “I want to play with the goop.”
“Get away from that. It’s Waggles’s vomit,” Mom told her.
Mia plugged her nose and said, “Eww. Gross.”
“Clean that up right away, Ezekiel,” Mom said. “I warned you to be careful with the cheese.”
“You warned me to keep it away from Mia. You didn’t mention Waggles,” I said. Mom glared at me.
Hector said, “I guess I should go home now.”
“Sorry, Hector,” I said.
“It’s okay.” He walked away, taking my jacket with him.
But it wasn’t okay. Hector wouldn’t want to be my friend now. My science project was ruined. Mom was mad at me. And I had to clean up a big pile of dog barf.
The next day, I went on the computer again to look for a new science experiment.
