Oh, Valentine, We've Lost Our Minds! Read online

  Dedication

  To Emma

  Contents

  Dedication

  1. Word of the Week

  2. His Name Is Pierre

  3. A Teachable Moment

  4. Lunch with Pee Air

  5. Girls Are Weird

  6. The Greatest Idea in the History of the World

  7. Pee Air Is Out of Control

  8. This Means War

  9. Rules for Duels

  10. The Truth about Pee Air

  11. A Special Valentine

  Bonus: Weird Extras

  Professor A.J.’s History of Valentine’s Day

  Fun Games and Weird Word Puzzles

  My Weird School Daze Trivia Questions

  The World of Dan Gutman Checklist

  Back Ad

  About the Author and Illustrator

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  My name is A.J. and I hate the L word.

  Do you know what the L word is? I can’t say it. It’s too gross.

  We had just finished putting our backpacks into our cubbies and pledging the allegiance when my teacher, Mr. Granite, went over to the whiteboard.

  “It’s time for our Word of the Day,” he said as he picked up a marker. “Today, our word is . . .”

  And then he wrote it on the board in big letters: L-O-V-E.

  “Love,” said Mr. Granite.

  WHAT?!

  He said the L word! Ugh, disgusting!

  “Yuck!” shouted Ryan, who will eat anything, even stuff that isn’t food.

  “That’s a four-letter word!” shouted Michael, who never ties his shoes.

  “And he said it out loud!” shouted Neil, who we call the nude kid even though he wears clothes.

  “Yes, tomorrow is Valentine’s Day,” said Mr. Granite. “The day of love.”

  He said it again! All of us guys were falling off our chairs and choking and gagging and freaking out.

  “Boys!” said Andrea Young, this girl who is always rolling her eyes.* “I love Valentine’s Day!”

  “Me too!” said her crybaby friend, Emily, who agrees with everything Andrea says. “I love Valentine’s Day!”

  “Can I go to the nurse?” I asked Mr. Granite. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  “What’s the matter, A.J.?”

  “Everybody keeps saying the L word,” I told him.

  “You mean ‘love’?” asked Mr. Granite.

  “Ewwwww!” I shouted. “You said it again! Help! Call an ambulance! I need to go to the hospital!”

  “You’re being silly, A.J.,” Mr. Granite told me. “I bet you love lots of things.”

  “Oh, yeah? Name one.”

  “You love your parents, don’t you?” asked Mr. Granite.

  “Well, yes,” I admitted.

  Of course I love my parents.

  “And I’ve heard you say how much you love skateboarding, right?”

  “I guess so,” I admitted.

  “And I know how much you love playing Pee Wee football every Saturday, A.J.,” said Mr. Granite.

  “Yeah . . .”

  I couldn’t argue with that. I do love playing football.

  “So there are some things that you love.”

  Hmmm. Mr. Granite had a point. I do love my parents, skateboarding, and football. But I still don’t like the L word.

  Mr. Granite told us that the L word is also about tolerance and acceptance and peace in the world. That’s what we should celebrate on Valentine’s Day.

  “I’ll tell you what is my favorite part about Valentine’s Day,” said Mr. Granite. “Getting chocolate.”

  CHOCOLATE?!

  If there’s one thing that I really love, it’s chocolate. I think I love chocolate more than anything in the whole world. I guess I can put up with some of that mushy L-word stuff if there’s the chance that I might be getting chocolate.

  “Valentine’s Day is going to be fun!” Mr. Granite told us. “We’re going to have a party. But for now let’s get to work. I know another thing you all love—math! So turn to page twenty-three in your—”

  Mr. Granite never had the chance to finish his sentence. Because you’ll never believe in a million hundred years who walked into the door at that moment.

  Nobody! It would hurt if you walked into a door. But you’ll never believe who walked into the doorway.

  I’m not going to tell you.

  Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. But you have to read the next chapter. So nah-nah-nah boo-boo on you.

  It was our principal, Mr. Klutz!

  He has no hair at all. I mean none. I wonder if hats slip off his head because they have nothing to hold on to.

  “Mr. Klutz!” said Mr. Granite. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

  (That’s grown-up talk for “What are you doing here?”)

  “I have big news!” Mr. Klutz announced.

  “He has a big nose,” I whispered to Ryan.

  Everybody was buzzing because we were going to get some big news. Mr. Klutz held up his hand and made a peace sign with his fingers, which means “shut up.”

  “Guess what, kids?” said Mr. Klutz. “Your class is going to get an exchange student!”

  Exchange student? What’s that?

  I raised my hand, and Mr. Klutz called on me.

  “Does that mean we can exchange one of our students for something else?” I asked. “I say we exchange Andrea for a video game system.”

  “Oh, snap!” said Ryan.

  Andrea rolled her eyes.

  “An exchange student is a boy or girl from a foreign country, Arlo,” she said. Andrea calls me by my real name because she knows I don’t like it.

  “I knew that,” I lied.

  “What country does our exchange student come from?” Mr. Granite asked.

  “He came all the way from France,” said Mr. Klutz. “His name is Pierre.”

  Pee Air?

  Mr. Klutz had to be joking. We all started giggling and poking each other with our elbows.

  “Did his parents name him Pee Air because he peed in the air?” I asked. “My mom told me that when I was a baby, I used to pee in the air while she was changing my diaper.”

  “That’s disgusting, Arlo!” said Andrea. “We’re not supposed to talk about things like that in school.”

  “Can you possibly be more boring?” I asked her.

  Mr. Klutz went into the hallway to get the French kid named Pee Air. He was out there for a long time. I wondered what Pee Air would be like. We were all glued to our seats.

  Well, not really. That would be weird. Why would anybody glue themselves to a seat? How would you get the glue off?

  Mr. Klutz came back into the classroom with Pee Air. Pee Air was holding a big platter, which he put on a table at the front of the room.

  “Pee Air,” said Mr. Klutz, “I would like to introduce you to Mr. Granite’s third-grade class.”

  “O-M-G!” whispered Andrea. “Pee Air is handsome!”

  “He’s adorable!” whispered Emily.

  All the girls were swooning and giggling and fanning themselves and making goo-goo eyes at Pee Air. Even my friend Alexia, who is a tomboy, was freaking out.

  “He’s dreamy!” Alexia said.

  Pee Air did one of those deep bows like actors do at the end of a play.

  “Bonjour,” he said.

  “Ooooh!” said Andrea. “He’s handsome, and he speaks French!”

  Well of course Pee Air speaks French. He’s from France! Everybody in France speaks French. What is Andrea’s problem?

  “Pee Air, I have to go to a meeting,” Mr. Klutz said, “but I’ll be back later to
see how you’re making out.”

  Ewww, disgusting!

  “We,” said Pee Air.

  “We means ‘yes’ in French,” said Andrea, who thinks she knows everything. “They spell it O-U-I.”

  That’s weird. And I thought I was a bad speller. Those people in France totally don’t know how to spell.

  Mr. Granite went into the hallway to talk with Mr. Klutz. So we were alone with Pee Air.

  “I am very happy . . . to be in your . . . classroom,” Pee Air told us. “I am just learning how to speak English . . . at my school, but I am not very . . . good at it yet.”

  He said it all in a weird French accent. The girls were still making goo-goo eyes at him.

  Pee Air continued. . . .

  “So I hope you will . . . how do you say . . . bear with me.”

  “Bare with you?” I shouted. “I’m not taking my clothes off in school. Gross!”

  “Not B-A-R-E, Arlo!” said Andrea. “B-E-A-R! Pee Air said ‘bear with me.’”

  “There’s a bear with him?” I shouted. “Where?”

  “Run for your lives!” shouted Neil the nude kid. “Pee Air has a bear!”

  I hid under my desk. I didn’t see any bears around, but you can’t be too careful these days. For all I know, kids in France bring bears to school with them.

  Andrea got up from her desk and ran over to Pee Air.

  “My name is Andrea,” she said, doing one of those girly curtsy things. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pee Air.”

  That’s when the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened. Pee Air took Andrea’s hand and kissed it!

  Ugh, gross!

  I would never kiss anybody’s hand, and certainly not Andrea’s. Hands are dirty. You don’t know where that hand has been. There was a fifty-fifty chance that Andrea used that hand to pick her nose.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Andrea,” Pee Air said. “Your eyes . . . are like pools of water . . . in the moonlight.”

  What a dork.

  Pee Air held on to Andrea’s hand way too long. Andrea was giggling and blushing as she ran back to her seat.

  Then Emily got up and went over to Pee Air.

  “I’m Emily,” she said, all giggly. “Welcome to our class, Pee Air.”

  Pee Air kissed Emily’s hand, too.

  “Your face . . . is like an angel’s,” he said. “I hope that we might . . . become better acquainted.”

  Emily was giggling and blushing as she ran back to her seat.

  After that, all the other girls in the class went running up to introduce themselves and get their hands kissed by Pee Air. Even Alexia! I thought I was gonna throw up.

  “I’m never going to wash this hand again!” Alexia said when she went back to her seat.

  There was no way I was going to go up and introduce myself to Pee Air. I didn’t want him slobbering all over my hand like a dog.

  Mr. Granite came back into the classroom and went to his desk.

  “Mr. Klutz told me that Pee Air will be with us for the rest of the week.”

  The rest of the week! That’s like forever.

  “How many days are there in a French week?” I asked.

  “Seven,” said Mr. Granite.

  Wow. Just like here.

  “It’s already Wednesday,” Andrea said. “So Pee Air will only be here for three days.”

  “I brought a little . . . how do you say . . . gift . . . from my home,” Pee Air announced.

  Hmm. I like gifts. Maybe Pee Air wasn’t such a bad guy after all. He picked up the platter he had brought with him.

  “It is cheese and crackers,” said Pee Air.

  WHAT?!

  Cheese and crackers? That’s a gift? I thought he was going to give us something cool from France, like French fries or French toast. Who shows up at a new school with a platter full of cheese?

  “What kind of cheese is it, Pee Air?” asked Mr. Granite.

  “It is called Muenster cheese,” said Pee Air.

  Muenster cheese? My dad told me he used to watch a TV show about that cheese when he was a kid.*

  “We have over four hundred kinds of cheeses in France,” said Pee Air.

  Four hundred? Those French people should make up their minds. The only kind of cheese I eat is American cheese. Each slice is wrapped up in its own piece of plastic, so you know it’s good.

  Pee Air walked around the room with his platter of cheese. It wasn’t wrapped up in plastic. It was cut into little chunks, and each one had a toothpick sticking out of it. That was weird.

  Some of the kids tried a piece of cheese. When Pee Air got to me with the platter, I leaned over to sniff the cheese.

  Gross! It was stinky! I guess they have toothpicks so you can use them to get the smell out of your mouth after eating the cheese.

  “Ugh, it smells horrible,” I said. “Who cut the cheese?”

  “Very funny, Arlo,” said Andrea, rolling her eyes again.

  Why can’t a truck full of cheese fall on Andrea’s head?

  That French cheese was gross. No way was I going to eat that stuff. It smelled like it was sitting out in the hot sun all day. I wasn’t going to shake hands with Pee Air, and I wasn’t going to eat his stinky cheese either. That guy is weird.

  After Pee Air passed around his stinky cheese, Mr. Granite told us to open up our math books again. But you’ll never believe who poked her head into the door at that moment.

  Nobody! Why would anybody want to poke their head into a door? I thought we went over that already in chapter one. But you’ll never believe who poked her head into the doorway.

  It was Ms. LaGrange, our school lunch lady! She was wearing an apron and a chef’s hat. Ms. LaGrange is from France, just like Pee Air.

  “Bonjour!” said Ms. LaGrange. “I heard your class has a new exchange student from France.”

  “His name is Pee Air,” said Alexia.

  “Blah blah blah blah,” Ms. LaGrange said to Pee Air. “Blah blah blah blah.”

  “Blah blah blah blah,” Pee Air said to Ms. LaGrange. “Blah blah blah blah.”

  I had no idea what they were saying, because they were talking to each other in French. It made no sense at all. I don’t know how anybody understands that stuff.

  “Isn’t French a beautiful language?” said Andrea. “When I get older, I’m going to take a class and learn how to speak French.”

  “Me too,” said Emily, who always does everything Andrea does.

  “This is what I call a teachable moment!” said Mr. Granite as he put down his math book. “It’s the perfect time for us to learn about another country!”

  “Yay!” shouted all the girls.

  “Boo!” shouted all the boys.

  Learning stuff is boring.

  “What would you like to know about France?” asked Ms. LaGrange. “I’m sure Pee Air and I can answer any questions.”

  Andrea started waving her hand in the air like she was stranded on a desert island and trying to signal a plane. So of course Ms. LaGrange called on her.

  “Is it true that the French people gave us the Statue of Liberty?” Andrea asked.

  “Yes!” said Ms. LaGrange. “The Statue of Liberty was a gift from France.”

  “Very good, Andrea!” said Mr. Granite.

  Little Miss Know-It-All had a big smile on her face. What a brownnoser! She knew perfectly well that the French people gave us the Statue of Liberty. She only asked that question so everybody would know that she knew the French people gave us the Statue of Liberty. Andrea is always doing that.

  “How big is France?” asked Alexia.

  “France is about the same size as Texas,” said Ms. LaGrange.

  “WOW,” everybody said, which is “MOM” upside down.

  “Did you ever go to the Eiffel Tower?” asked Michael.

  “Oh yes, many times,” said Pee Air. “It is very . . . how do you say . . . cool.”

  “The Mona Lisa is in France too,” said Andrea, who was obviousl
y trying to impress Pee Air with how much she knows.

  “Very good, Andrea!” said Mr. Granite.

  Why can’t a truck full of Mona Lisas fall on Andrea’s head?

  “Hey,” I asked, “in France, do you call French fries ‘American fries’?”

  “No, we call them pommes frites,” said Pee Air. “We also eat . . . frogs’ legs and snails . . . which we call escargot.”

  Ewww, gross! They eat snails!

  “Maybe I’ll make escargot for lunch tomorrow!” said Ms. LaGrange.

  Ugh! I’ll be bringing my own lunch. I’d rather die than eat those S car things.

  “Did you know that the hot air balloon, the parachute, and the submarine were all invented in France?” asked Ms. LaGrange.

  “They probably invented that stuff so they could get out of the country,” I said.

  “Why would they want to get out of the country, A.J.?” asked Mr. Granite.

  “So they won’t have to eat frogs’ legs, snails, and stinky cheese anymore,” I said.

  “Oh, snap!” said Ryan.

  “Very funny, Arlo,” said Andrea.

  “Do you have Valentine’s Day in France?” asked Emily.

  “Oh yes,” said Pee Air. “But in France, every day is Valentine’s Day.”

  Ugh, gross.

  “There are lots of English words that come from French,” said Little Miss Perfect. “Like ‘souvenir’ and ‘mayonnaise.’”

  “And ‘villain,’ ‘dungeon,’ ‘rendezvous,’ and ‘camouflage,’” added Ms. LaGrange.

  “And ‘croissant,’ ‘turquoise,’ ‘cinema,’ and ‘aviation,’” added Pee Air.

  “And ‘thermometer,’ ‘leotard,’ ‘garage,’ and ‘machine,’” added Mr. Granite.

  Blah blah blah blah. What a snoozefest. I thought I was gonna die from old age.

  We learned a lot of stuff about France from Pee Air and Ms. LaGrange. Did you know that just twelve years after our Revolutionary War, they had a revolution in France? So they were just a bunch of copycats. We also learned about some French guy named Napoleon who was always sticking his hand in his shirt.

  Nobody knew why. I guess he had a rash or something. That guy should get some ointment to put on his stomach.