Free The BEDMAS Conspiracy by Deborah Sherman Page A

didn’t sound like typical feedback. The shrieking was too… girly . I peeked through the curtain and tried to see what was going on. Sure enough, there were Lisa, Sarah, Janine and a gaggle of other Wilcott girls. Decked out in oversized sunglasses, they were pushing their way up to the front of the auditorium. Squinting in the dark, I could see they were holding a banner that read Olaf’s Army . Their pushing got aggressive as people started to push back. The situation was getting out of hand.
    I took a step away from the curtain just as it pulled back and the lights hit us. Sludge quickly counted the beat and we launched into “Detention Blues.” The pushing and shrieking stopped. That’s when I saw that Daniela wasn’t kidding earlier. It was like she’d just become Olaf—and he sounded awesome, though it was hard to hear him during the chorus. Olaf’s Army had made its way to the front and were joining in:
    The Detention Blues, oh so blue
And he’s also grounded, too.
    Before I knew it, the song was over. It was time for me to introduce our new song. “This is a new one called ‘Big Elephants Can Always Understand Small Elephants.’ We wrote it a few weeks ago.”
    Sludge began singing in a falsetto:
    I before E, except after C—I just need time to be free!
I before E, except after C—All of this homework leaves no time to be me!
    Meena joined in on guitar as Sludge continued the first verse. Then it was Olaf’s turn to join. His deep voice provided a contrasting harmony. Soon we were all playing: I was tinkling, Beena was strumming, and Eldrick was chiming. Olaf’s Army had recruited every female in the room. They joined in for the chorus:
    Big Elephants Can Always Understand Small Elephants. Yeah Yeah Yeah.
Big Elephants Can Always Understand Small Elephants. Yeah Yeah Yeah.
    Swivelling my head, I caught a glimpse of Eldrick. He was ratcheting, pinging, and shaking his tambourine with gusto. Though I had vowed never to forgive the tattling blackmailer, it was hard not to give in to the moment and smile at him. Instead, I focused on Olaf. He finished the song by kicking his mike stand to the ground like a true rock star.
    The room erupted in cheers. Sludge ran out from behind his drum kit. “We rocked it!” he hollered. “Completely, one-hundred percent rocked it!”
    It was hard to hear him over the pandemonium. Everyone was on their feet. I had expected all of the cheering to come from female voices. But the hooting and hollering was balanced. The entire audience was cheering.
    â€œI think we’re ahead of PB and J,” whispered my cousin Olaf excitedly as we exited stage left. The twins nodded enthusiastically.
    â€œThe last act is a comedian,” said Sludge. “How much competition can a dude telling jokes be?”
    A very tall girl walked on stage and introduced herself as Helen the Hysterical from Spiller Academy.
    â€œOr a girl,” corrected Sludge.
    I was anxious to hear her act. Although we had just slayed the room, nothing could top an audience bent over in helpless laughter. I stood at the wings of the stage and listened intently.
    â€œWhy did the tomato turn red?” asked Helen.
    I leaned in closely to hear the answer…just as Olaf spun me around and began to go over the finer points of his performance. Stuck listening to him reminiscing about his lower register, I missed why the tomato was so rosy. But I did hear the audience giggling. I managed to shake Olaf by telling him the twins wanted to discuss his scissor-kick technique.
    â€œAn emu, three hippos, and a clown walk into a pizzeria,” started Helen.
    This sounded like it could be a doozy. Even from behind the curtain, I could see the audience smiling.
    â€œThe emu turns to one of the hippos and says—”
    â€œI have a great idea for a new song,” said Sludge, choosing that exact moment to whisper into my ear,