Mr. Hynde Is Out of His Mind! Read online

  “What do you mean?” Emily asked.

  “I mean maybe Mr. Loring wasn’t fired. Maybe Mr. Hynde kidnapped him and stuffed him in a piano and dumped it in the river. Stuff like that happens all the time, you know.”

  Emily looked worried, like I wasn’t even kidding. That girl will fall for anything.

  “We’ve got to do something!” Emily said. Then she went running out of the vomitorium.

  Emily is weird.

  5

  Mr. Hynde Gets Funky

  If Andrea and her mother got Mr. Hynde fired, it would be a horrible disaster. I was determined to stop them. But in the meantime, I had another problem to worry about.

  Multiplication.

  We were just starting to learn about multiplication, and I didn’t get it. I understood how 2 plus 2 equals 4. But then how was it possible for 2 times 2 to equal 4 too? I mean, 3 plus 3 and 3 times 3 don’t equal the same number. It just didn’t make sense.

  The way I looked at it, if 2 plus 2 equals 4, and 2 times 2 also equals 4, then addition and multiplication were the same thing. And if they were the same thing, why did we have to learn both of them? I was having a tough enough time with addition and subtraction before this multiplication stuff messed everything up.

  I asked Miss Daisy to explain how 2 plus 2 and 2 times 2 can both equal 4.

  “How should I know?” she replied. “I don’t know anything about math.”

  Miss Daisy is crazy!

  “Everybody line up,” Miss Daisy said after we finished putting away our math books.

  “Line up for what?”

  “It’s time for music with Mr. Hynde,” Miss Daisy said.

  “Yippee!” shouted me and Michael and Ryan.

  “Boo!” said Andrea and Emily.

  “Andrea, I thought you loved music,” Miss Daisy said. “You’ve been playing piano ever since you were four.”

  “She must be really tired,” I said. Nobody laughed at my joke again, but I didn’t care. I’m going to keep telling that joke until somebody laughs.

  “Mr. Hynde doesn’t play music,” Andrea said. “He just makes noise.”

  “Well, we have to go to music anyway,” said Miss Daisy.

  Nah-nah-nah boo-boo on Andrea! I hate her.

  We went to the music room in single file. This girl Annette was the line leader. Andrea and Emily were at the end of the line, which was a first in the history of the world. They always want to get everywhere before anyone else.

  The music room was empty. But suddenly Mr. Hynde swept in and threw off his cape.

  “Should we sit like pretzels, Mr. Hynde?” somebody asked.

  “No way, homeys,” Mr. Hynde said. “You sit for reading and writing and arithmetic. In music you get up and shake your booty! The only way to get down is to get up!”

  Mr. Hynde jumped around like a lunatic, and so did we. It was cool.

  “Okay, my little peeps,” Mr. Hynde said. “Today we’re gonna learn about percussion. Which one of you shorties can tell me what percussion is?”

  I raised my hand and Mr. Hynde called on me.

  “Percussion is when you say bad words,” I said.

  “That’s cussin’, brother,” Mr. Hynde said. “Andrea?”

  “Percussion is when one object hits against another object,” she said, all proud of herself.

  “Word up, Andrea!” Mr. Hynde said.

  Andrea thinks she knows everything. I’d like to percussion her with a stick.

  “Listen up,” Mr. Hynde said. He picked up two rulers from his desk and started hitting things with them. He hit his desk. He hit the chalkboard. He hit the window. He hit his coffee mug.

  “You hear how each object makes a different sound?” Mr. Hynde asked.

  “That’s not music,” Andrea said. “It’s just noise!”

  “Oh, that’s cold, girl!” Mr. Hynde said. “Sister, anything can be musical.”

  Mr. Hynde started running around the room, drumming on everything in sight with the rulers. He’s a good drummer! Then he put his foot inside a garbage can and started tap-dancing around the room while he kept whacking things with the rulers. He’s a good tap dancer, too.

  It was getting noisy! Andrea and Emily put their hands over their ears. Mr. Hynde started making weird drumming sounds with his mouth while he was whacking things with the rulers and tap-dancing with the garbage can on his foot.

  It was cool. Everybody except for Andrea and Emily was dancing around. Mr. Hynde started hitting his butt on an empty desk while he was making weird drumming sounds with his mouth and whacking things with the rulers and tap-dancing with the garbage can.

  Mr. Hynde is out of his mind!

  He was doing all those things at the same time when suddenly, the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened.

  The door to the music room opened. And who do you think walked in?

  It was Mr. Klutz, the school principal!

  “Oh, snap!” said Mr. Hynde.

  Mr. Klutz is completely bald. I mean, he has no hair at all on his head.

  Everything stopped. Mr. Hynde stood there like a statue. A statue with a garbage can on its foot. Everybody stopped dancing. There was no noise at all. We were all looking at Mr. Klutz as he stood in the doorway.

  You should have been there. It was unbearable! We didn’t know what to say. We didn’t know what to do. I had to think fast.

  Finally I said, “Mr. Hynde is teaching us cussin’.”

  “Is that so?” Principal Klutz asked.

  “Percussion,” said Mr. Hynde.

  “Mr. Hynde is hitting things and making way too much noise,” said Andrea. “He calls that music.”

  Principal Klutz walked over to Mr. Hynde.

  “Is that true, Mr. Hynde?” asked Principal Klutz.

  Nobody said a word. Nobody made a sound. I thought I was gonna die.

  “True that, sir, I’m afraid it is,” said Mr. Hynde. He took his foot out of the garbage can.

  “He’s damaging school property and causing a disturbance,” said Andrea. “Are you going to fire him?” She had this evil smile on her face.

  All the kids looked at Mr. Klutz. Mr. Klutz looked at Mr. Hynde. Mr. Hynde looked at Mr. Klutz. And then Mr. Klutz did the most amazing thing in the history of the world. He started rapping:

  “Mr. Hynde is phat. I’m down with that.

  Even kids who are Russian gotta learn about percussion.

  So make some noise, you little girls and boys.

  I rule the school. And I say Mr. Hynde is cool.

  In school I’m king, and I say do your own thing.

  Now watch me groove ’cause I can bust a move.”

  Then Mr. Klutz did a little dance and spun on the floor on his back.

  Mr. Klutz is nuts!

  With Principal Klutz still sitting on the floor, Mr. Hynde came up behind him and started drumming the top of his bald head like it was a bongo.

  It was amazing! You should have been there. It was almost even better than watching TV.

  Everybody except Andrea and Emily started clapping. Mr. Klutz got up and said he had to go back to his office and do some important principal stuff.

  “Please continue to, uh, get down and funky with your bad self,” said Mr. Klutz. “Peace out.”

  And then he left.

  You should have seen the look on Andrea’s face when Mr. Hynde was playing bongos on our principal’s head! I guess she’s not going to get Mr. Hynde fired after all.

  Ha-ha-ha. It was the greatest thing that ever happened in the history of the world.

  I hate her.

  6

  Beauty and the Beast

  I really missed TV.

  TV Turnoff Month started, and I had to go a whole day without any TV. It was horrible! I thought I was gonna die!

  Believe it or not, I couldn’t wait for school to start. There’s a TV in our classroom, but we hardly ever get to watch it, so at least I wasn’t missing anything.

 
Plus, we had music class. And music class with Mr. Hynde is better than TV anyway.

  “Good news, my little shorties,” Mr. Hynde said. “In honor of TV Turnoff Month, we’re gonna put on a play!”

  “Yippee!” shouted all the girls. “Plays are fun.”

  “Boo!” moaned all the boys. “Plays are dumb.”

  “This play’s gonna be off the hook, dudes,” Mr. Hynde told us. “It’s gonna be a hip-hop play.”

  “I was in a play at day camp last summer,” said Andrea. “It was called The Princess and the Pea. I played the beautiful princess.”

  “Did you pee right on the stage?” I asked. “That’s disgusting!”

  “Not that kind of pea, A.J.!”

  “We’re gonna put on Beauty and the Beast,” said Mr. Hynde. “Now who wants to be Beauty?”

  “I do! I do! I do!” shouted Andrea and a few of the other girls.

  Mr. Hynde did eeny meeny minie moe, and guess which smarty-pants brownnoser little Miss Perfect who should have a refrigerator fall on her head won?

  “Okay, Andrea is the beauty,” said Mr. Hynde. “Now which one of you little dudes wants to be the beast?”

  None of us boys raised his hand. No way I was going to be some dumb beast in a dumb play.

  “Don’t bail on me, brothers,” Mr. Hynde said. “One of you homeboys has to be the beast or we can’t have the play.”

  I looked over at Ryan and Michael. They were both looking at the floor and had their arms folded across their chests.

  “We don’t want to be in a play,” Ryan said.

  “Oh, I forgot to clue you,” Mr. Hynde said. “The beast gets to lock Beauty in a dungeon and torture her.”

  “I’ll be the beast!” I shouted before anybody else could get his hand in the air.

  “Okay, A.J. is the beast,” Mr. Hynde said.

  This play is going to be cool!

  7

  K-i-s-s-i-n-g

  Me and Ryan and Michael were sitting around the playground at recess. Michael was looking through the script for the play that Mr. Hynde gave me.

  “Did you read this, A.J.?” Michael asked.

  “Nah,” I said, “reading is boring.”

  “Well, you might want to read this,” Michael said. “It says here that the beast has to kiss Beauty.”

  “What?! Let me see that!” I grabbed the script. He was right! It said it right there on the last page.

  Beauty and the beast kiss.

  “Oooooh!” Ryan said. “A.J. and Andrea are in love!”

  “Shut up!” I said. “I thought I just had to lock her in a dungeon.”

  “First you lock her in a dungeon,” Michael said. “In the end you fall in love and you’ve got to kiss her.”

  “That’s disgusting!” I said. “I wouldn’t kiss Andrea if they paid me a million dollars.”

  “You’re gonna have to,” Michael said. “And nobody’s gonna pay you a dime.”

  Then Michael and Ryan started singing:

  “A.J. and Andrea sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g!

  First comes love, then comes marriage.

  Then comes A.J. with a baby carriage!”

  If those guys weren’t my best friends, I would really hate them.

  “I won’t do it!” I said. “I’ll run away someplace where they’ll never find me.”

  Michael and Ryan sang the dumb kissing song again, so I left. I was really mad.

  I didn’t exactly know where to run to. I figured I’d go to the boys’ room and hang out in there for a while.

  But on the way to the boys’ room, I passed the music room. The door was closed, but there’s a little window in the door. I stood on my tiptoes and looked inside. Mr. Hynde was in there.

  I put my ear against the door. I could hear a drum machine, and Mr. Hynde was rapping, too. I couldn’t make out the words. I opened the door.

  “Yo, Beast!” Mr. Hynde said. “You the man! How’s it hangin’, brother?”

  “Okay, I guess,” I said. “What are you doing?”

  “Layin’ down some beats,” Mr. Hynde said. “I’m workin’ on my own CD.”

  “Cool!” I said. “Are you gonna be a famous rapper?”

  “Word up, cuz,” Mr. Hynde said. “Maybe someday I’ll be a star and you can say I used to be your music teacher. Hey, you want my autograph? Once I get famous, I might not sign ’em anymore.”

  “No thanks,” I said.

  “What’s the matter, Beast?” said Mr. Hynde. “You bummed out ’cause you can’t watch TV?”

  “No, I’ve got a problem, Mr. Hynde.”

  “Be straight,” he said. “You can tell me.”

  “I don’t want to be the beast.”

  “Why not, dude?” Mr. Hynde asked. “The beast is the man! The beast rules!”

  “I don’t want to kiss Andrea Young,” I admitted.

  “Ohhhh,” Mr. Hynde said. “Kissin’ is gross, eh? ’Fraid you’ll get cooties?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Let me clue you, brother,” said Mr. Hynde. “Kissin’ girls is fly. Someday all you’re gonna wanna do is kiss girls. Someday, when you wanna kiss a girl, that girl might not wanna kiss you. It’s kinda like gettin’ my autograph. You should do it now, ’cause you might not have the chance later. Besides, it’s just a play. It doesn’t mean you like her.”

  “But Andrea is horrible and disgusting!”

  Mr. Hynde sat down at his desk.

  “A.J., when I was a little shortie like you, I thought green beans were horrible and disgusting,” he said. “But my mama said I had to eat ’em. She told me to pretend the green beans were somethin’ I really liked. So I pretended they were oatmeal cookies. Then they didn’t taste so bad. See what I mean?”

  “I don’t like oatmeal cookies,” I said.

  “Well, what do you like?” Mr. Hynde asked.

  I thought about it for a minute.

  “I like dirt bikes,” I said. “When I grow up, I’m gonna be a dirt bike racer.”

  “So pretend Andrea is a dirt bike,” he suggested.

  “Huh?”

  “Go ahead, give it a shot,” Mr. Hynde said. “We need you in there. You’re my beast, dude. Nobody else can be the beast. You’re the beast from the east.”

  “Well, okay,” I said.

  I still didn’t know if I’d be able to kiss Andrea without throwing up.

  8

  The Play

  For the next week, the second grade rehearsed and rehearsed and rehearsed the play. After school I went home and rehearsed my lines some more. I couldn’t turn on the TV anyway, so it was good to have something to do.

  In school we rehearsed the whole play from start to finish. It was fun torturing Andrea. The only part we didn’t rehearse was the kissing part. Mr. Hynde said we would save that for the real show on Friday night.

  Ryan and Michael couldn’t believe that I was really going to kiss Andrea. I told them that Mr. Hynde said it wouldn’t be so horrible if I pretended she was a dirt bike.

  “I wouldn’t kiss a dirt bike,” Ryan said.

  “Well, what would you kiss?” I asked.

  “I really like football,” Ryan said. “I’d kiss a football.”

  Ryan is weird.

  Finally the night of the big show arrived. Everybody was dressed up in his or her costume. We peeked through the curtains in the multipurpose room and saw all the parents were there. I was nervous. Mr. Hynde told us everything was going to be fine.

  We were waiting for the curtain to open when Andrea pulled me aside.

  “A.J.,” she said, “I want you to know that just because we have to kiss each other doesn’t mean I like you.”

  “I don’t like you, either,” I said.

  “Good,” she said. “I’m glad we agree on something.”

  “Kissing girls is gross,” I told her.

  “Kissing boys is gross too,” she said. “I even went to Mr. Hynde and told him I didn’t want to be in the play because I didn’t want to kis
s you.”

  “So did I!”

  “He told me I should pretend that you’re something I really like,” Andrea said.

  “That’s what he told me!” I said. “I’m going to pretend you’re a dirt bike.”

  “I’m going to pretend you’re an encyclopedia,” Andrea said.

  “Fine.”

  So we did the play. I remembered all my lines, and locking Andrea in the dungeon was fun. Everything was going great.

  But the whole time, in the back of my mind, I was thinking that soon I would have to kiss Andrea. It was a horrible thought.

  We were a minute away from the big kissing part. The whole cast was up on the stage.

  Andrea was standing right next to me. I was really nervous.

  Michael leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Remember, she’s a dirt bike,” he said.

  Emily leaned over and whispered to Andrea. “Remember, he’s an encyclopedia,” she said.

  And then, before I could catch my breath, it was time. The big moment. The kiss.

  I leaned over toward Andrea.

  Andrea leaned over toward me.

  My heart was beating fast. I closed my eyes.

  Dirt bike. Dirt bike. Dirt bike. Dirt bike.

  I was trying really hard to pretend that Andrea was a dirt bike.

  And at that very moment, the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened.

  Andrea didn’t kiss me.

  I opened my eyes. Andrea had stepped up to the microphone at the front of the stage.

  She started singing!

  “‘The sun will come out tomorrow…’” she sang.

  She was singing that dumb stick-out-your-chin-and-grin song from that Annie movie! It wasn’t even in the script!

  “‘Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love you tomorrow…’”

  It was horrible and all, but it was still the greatest moment in my life because at least I didn’t have to kiss Andrea.

  All the parents were smiling and nodding their heads. When Andrea finished singing the dumb song, they all went crazy, clapping and cheering and whistling and stamping their feet. Andrea bowed, and the play was over.