Free The BEDMAS Conspiracy by Deborah Sherman Page B

“A tune that will totally blow everyone away.”
    Sheesh! While I admired his confidence, I really wanted to hear what the emu had to say.
    But Sludge could not be stopped. He blabbered on and on until I missed not only what the emu said but how the hippos replied. It must have been good because the audience quickly cracked up with laughter.
    â€œI’ll leave you with this last one,” began Helen.
    This time I didn’t even get to hear the set up. Eldrick and Sludge decided that now would be the perfect time to go over every instrument an auxiliary percussionist could play.
    â€œAnything you can hit or scrape, basically,” said Eldrick. “Like bells or chimes—”
    â€œAwesome,” responded Sludge.
    â€œâ€”or a marimba, a xylophone, a glockenspiel—”
    â€œAwesomer,” opined Sludge.
    â€œâ€”or a tympani—”
    â€œThe most awesomest,” decided Sludge.
    I gave up trying to listen to Helen’s material. It didn’t matter anyway—it was impossible to hear the punch line over the audience’s roaring laughter.
    â€œThank you, you’ve been great tonight,” said Helen as she exited the stage. The audience was in stitches. The atmosphere was a mix of giggles and grins.
    Principal Bording was smiling from ear to ear when he took the stage. “‘It saw the salad dressing!’ Classic!” It took him a few moments to stop chortling. But then he cleared his throat and went back to being Principal Boring.
    â€œI would like to give a big thanks to all of our participants tonight.” He insisted on thanking every act individually. Butterflies fluttered around my stomach as he went on and on. “I want to congratulate all of our contestants. Me, Myself and I, thank you for showing us the joys of multi-tasking. Looking good, Style Over Substance. Maybe you can show me a few of your moves later. The Equations, you’re my personal favourites. And the plate spinners, you can come and unload my dishwasher anytime...”
    I was going to explode if he didn’t hurry up! He continued until he had nothing else to say—except what we were all waiting for.
    â€œAnd the winner of this year’s District Donnybrook is...”
    Olaf cracked his knuckles.
    â€œSick on a Snow Day!”
    Meena and Beena let out matching screams. Olaf pumped his fist over his head. Sludge threw Eldrick into the air. He had a bit of trouble catching him. We tried to compose ourselves as Principal Bording handed us a silver trophy.
    â€œWhoever wrote ‘Big Elephants Can Always Understand Small Elephants’ is a genius. I love political songs. I wasn’t sure if it was about the relationship between Canada and the United States or if it was about big-market sports teams versus teams that play in smaller cities. But I loved it, nonetheless.” We tried not to giggle as he hummed the chorus. “Keep writing those deep, meaningful songs and you’ll have a real shot at winning the City Championship.”
    Olaf raised the trophy above his head. Olaf’s Army screamed in delight. The audience was still applauding as we left the stage.

W e were greeted like rock stars upon our return to school. Everyone wanted to talk to us. Some kids wanted to hang out and talk music while others just wanted to congratulate us.
    â€œDo I know her?” I asked Daniela (now that she was Daniela again) and pointed to a short girl with curly hair who had just hugged me.
    â€œDon’t think so,” Daniela replied.
    â€œWhat about that guy?” I asked referring to a tall kid who had just invited me over to his house for dinner.
    â€œNo idea who that is,” said my cousin.
    The school wanted to hold a little party the next day in honour of the band’s victory.
    â€œMaybe we’ll sign some autographs,” said Meena.
    â€œI’m willing to kiss my fans,” said Sludge generously.
    It sounded like fun!