Free I'm Going to Be Famous by Tom Birdseye Page A

…”
    Again?
    â€œ After you throw those jeans away.”

CHAPTER 18
    â€œThis is the twentieth century, Mr. Macho.”
    â€” L AURA M C N EIL
    Weekends sure are sneaky. It’s almost like being on vacation and driving through a little tiny town out in the middle of nowhere. All you have to do is blow your nose, or spit out your old gum, or pull the crust off your sandwich, and zip, you missed it. Missed an entire little town, including a gas station with a bathroom.
    Last weekend went by like that for me. One minute it was Friday, then all of a sudden, zip, and the weekend was gone.
    So now I sit in room 11, Mr. Dayton’s fifth-grade classroom. It’s Monday, September 19, and I have five days left before the big day. Five days of Positive Brain Approach. Five days of banana practice. Five days until I, Arlo Moore, break the world record for eating bananas and win my bets. My ship is coming in.
    Laura turns around in her chair. “Arlo, I need to talk to you.”
    â€œSure. What about?” I ask, gazing at that lovely face, that beautiful hair, those blue eyes that make me dizzy.
    â€œAbout the bet you and Murray made,” Laura says, not smiling.
    â€œThe bet?”
    â€œYes, the bet on who is going to talk to me and who isn’t.”
    There’s something about the tone of her voice that makes me nervous. “Oh, that,” I say.
    â€œYes, that. It’s true, then?” she asks pointedly.
    â€œWell, sort of …”
    â€œSort of!” Laura looks a bit angry. “Is it or isn’t it?”
    â€œUh … yeah …” I stammer, shifting uneasily in my chair.
    â€œWell, listen to me, Arlo Moore!”
    Yep, she’s definitely angry.
    â€œI am not a prize!”
    People are looking over this way.
    â€œSsh, not so loud, Laura,” I whisper, pleading.
    â€œDon’t shush me! I am not a prize. No one wins the right to talk to me in a bet. This is the twentieth century, Mr. Macho. Women talk to who they want to …”
    Oh, boy. I’ve really blown it.
    â€œâ€¦ when they want to …”
    Thank you, again, Murray the Nerd.
    â€œâ€¦ and where they want to!” She glares at me, turns, and picks up her pencil.
    There she goes, the girl of my dreams—mad as a bee at a bear.
    I’m embarrassed, red as a sunburned baby. I want to shrink to the size of an ant and make a quick getaway.
    â€œExcuse me, Arlo.”
    It’s Mr. Dayton.
    â€œYes sir,” I answer dismally.
    â€œSorry to interrupt you while you’re working so hard on your math. You were working on your math, weren’t you?”
    â€œUh … well …”
    â€œI just received a note from Mrs. Caldwell,” Mr. Dayton says. “She would like to see you in her office.”
    â€œMrs. Caldwell? The principal?” I ask like some kind of idiot. What other Mrs. Caldwell would want to see me in her office?
    â€œYes, Mrs. Caldwell, the principal,” Mr. Dayton replies.
    â€œIn her office? Me?”
    â€œYes, in her office. Now.”
    This could be bad news on top of bad news.
    â€œDid I do something wrong, Mr. Dayton?”
    â€œI don’t know, Arlo. Did you?”
    I look at the ceiling and then back at Mr. Dayton. His mustache twitches at me.
    â€œNot that I know of,” I say.
    â€œWell, why don’t you just go find out what it’s all about? I’m sure it’s not the end of the world.”
    Somehow I’m not so sure about that.

CHAPTER 19
    â€œI have information …”
    â€” M RS . C ALDWELL
    Sitting in the office waiting to see the principal is like having Christmas backward—there’s going to be a surprise for me, but I don’t think it’s going to be a good one.
    Mrs. Oatley, the school secretary, is typing at her desk. She’s really fast. Every couple of minutes she looks over the top of her glasses at me. I look at something else when she