Miss Newman Isn't Human! Read online

  Lots of kids had hands in the air, but Mr. Klutz stepped up to the front.

  “Um, maybe you can tell the children what tonight’s weather will be like,” he suggested. “You know, give them a forecast of the forecast?”

  Miss Newman closed her eyes for a moment. It was like she was trying to remember her cue cards.

  “We can expect an eighty percent chance of weather tonight across the Southwest,” she said. “There should be gradual darkness as evening approaches, followed by continued dark through the night, turning partly lighter by morning.”

  WHAT?! That can’t be right!

  Miss Newman continued. . . .

  “I’m predicting a high pressure blah blah blah increasing blah blah blah temperatures blah blah blah Doppler blah blah blah unseasonable blah blah blah humid air . . .”

  She went on like that for a while. I leaned over and whispered in Andrea’s ear.

  “Is she making any sense at all?” I asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Andrea whispered back. “It sounds like she’s just saying random weather words.”

  “There will be showers across the country tomorrow morning,” said Miss Newman, “after people wake up and decide they need to take a shower.”

  WHAT?! That can’t be right!

  When Miss Newman finished, the lady teachers gathered around and hugged her. I guess they didn’t want to hurt her feelings by telling her she didn’t know anything about weather.

  “See?” Mrs. Roopy told her. “You did great!”

  “You don’t need those silly cue cards after all,” said Miss Small.

  “Maybe I don’t!” Miss Newman said proudly. “Can I tell the children about haboobs now?”

  “Haboobs?” everybody asked. “What’s a haboob?”

  “A haboob is a sandstorm,” said Miss Newman. “It can be sixty miles wide and over ten thousand feet high.”

  WHAT?! I never heard of a haboob.

  “Did you ever hear of a haboob?” I whispered to Andrea.

  “No,” she said. “That’s a new one on me.”

  If the Human Dictionary never heard of a haboob, nobody did. Andrea knows everything.

  I was beginning to think Miss Newman might be crazy. She was just making stuff up.

  “Some haboobs will travel a hundred miles,” she continued. “The sand can be so thick, you can’t see more than a few feet in front of you.”

  “That sounds scary,” said Emily, who thinks everything is scary.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” said Miss Newman. “Haboobs mostly hit dry desert regions, like the Sahara. They hardly ever hit this area.”

  I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that “haboob” might be a real word. You’re thinking there’s going to be a haboob later in this book.

  Well, you’re wrong! So nah-nah-nah boo-boo on you. No haboobs! From now on, this is a haboob-free book.

  Don’t bother looking “haboob” up in the dictionary. It’s not there. Nothing exciting is going to happen for the rest of the book. No more lightning bolts. No haboobs. You might as well stop reading right now and pick up one of those Newbery books instead. Go ahead. You look like you could use a nap.

  “Pringle up, everybody!” said Mr. Cooper.

  We walked a million hundred miles back to our classroom so we could work on reading, math, and other boring stuff. Then it was time for lunch, so we had to walk another million hundred miles to the vomitorium.

  I sat with Ryan, Michael, Neil, and Alexia. Then, of course, Andrea and Emily came over and sat at our table.

  I traded my peanut butter and jelly sandwich with Ryan. Ryan traded sandwiches with Michael. Michael traded sandwiches with Neil. Neil traded sandwiches with Alexia. Alexia traded sandwiches with Andrea. Andrea traded sandwiches with Emily. Emily traded sandwiches with me. So I got my peanut butter and jelly sandwich back.

  “I’m worried about Luke Warm, that cue card guy,” said Emily, who always worries about everything.

  “I hope he doesn’t get struck by lightning again,” said Ryan.

  “Lightning never strikes twice in the same place,” Michael said.

  “That’s because after lightning strikes once, the place isn’t there anymore,” I told them.

  “Hey, I have an idea!” said Andrea. “We should make get well cards for Luke Warm! That will make him feel better!”

  “Great idea, Andrea!” said Emily, who thinks all Andrea’s ideas are great. “We can draw pictures for him.”

  If you ask me, those two like it when people get sick. It gives them an excuse to draw pictures of rainbows and butterflies and other girlie stuff.

  Andrea and Emily took out their notebooks and started making get well cards for Luke Warm.

  “Actually I’m more worried about Miss Newman,” said Alexia.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Well, she obviously doesn’t know anything about the weather,” Alexia replied. “She just reads Luke Warm’s cue cards.”

  “Yeah, she’s like a reading machine,” said Neil.

  Miss Newman isn’t human!

  “Hey,” I said, “maybe Miss Newman isn’t a real meteorologist after all. Did you ever think about that?”

  “What do you mean, Arlo?” asked Andrea.

  “Well, maybe she’s just been pretending to be a meteorologist so she could be on TV. Maybe she kidnapped a real meteorologist and tied her to one of those weather blimps. Stuff like that happens all the time, y’know.”

  “I’m scared,” said Emily, who’s scared of everything.

  “Yeah,” added Michael. “The real meteorologist is probably dangling upside down from a rope below the blimp right now. And it’s floating away.”

  “To Antarctica,” I added.

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

  Sheesh, get a grip! That girl will fall for anything.

  “I don’t like to say this,” said Alexia, “but what if Miss Newman is . . .” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “. . . kind of dumb?”

  “That’s not a nice thing to say,” said Andrea.

  Andrea was right. “Dumb” is not a nice word. In fact, there’s only one word in the English language that’s worse than dumb.

  “Dumbhead.”

  “We shouldn’t call people dumb,” said Neil. “Even if they are dumb.”

  “It wouldn’t be Miss Newman’s fault if she was dumb,” said Alexia.

  “Yeah, dumb people can’t help it if they’re dumb,” I added.

  “Can you all stop saying the D word?” asked Andrea. “It’s not nice!”

  “What will happen when Miss Newman gets back to Channel 4 to do the weather again?” asked Alexia. “Without Luke Warm’s cue cards, she’ll have nothing to say.”

  “She’ll probably get fired,” said Michael.

  “That will be sad,” said Alexia.

  “Her whole life will be ruined,” said Neil.

  That made me wonder something. Do you think dumb people know they’re dumb? Or are they too dumb to know how dumb they are?

  I would think that if I was really dumb, I would never say anything to anybody, because I’d be afraid of saying something dumb. But I’ve noticed that dumb people seem to have no problems saying dumb things. So either they’re so dumb that they don’t know they’re dumb, or they don’t care that they’re showing how dumb they are.

  Hey, wait a minute. If dumb people are too dumb to know they’re dumb, then maybe I’m dumb!

  What if I’m so dumb that I don’t know how dumb I am?

  I think just to be on the safe side, I should just stop talking altogether. That’s what a smart dumb person would do.

  “Hey, I have an idea!” Ryan said. “We could teach Miss Newman about the weather! That way, when she goes back to Channel 4, she’ll know what she’s talking about and she won’t get fired.”*

  “That’s genius!” we all said.

  Ryan should get the Nobel Prize for that
idea.

  It stopped raining, but the playground was still wet. So we had to have indoor recess. Ugh. I’m not sure which is worse, indoor recess or National Poetry Month.

  “Can we go talk to Miss Newman?” Ryan asked Mr. Cooper when we got back to class. “We want to teach her about clouds and humidity and temperature and other weather stuff so she won’t get fired.”

  “Miss Newman is talking with the fifth graders now,” Mr. Cooper replied.

  Bummer in the summer!

  “Can we play board games?” asked Andrea.

  “Sure!” said Mr. Cooper.

  As it turned out, we didn’t have to play boring board games after all. Because you’ll never believe who walked through the door at that moment.

  Nobody! You can’t walk through a door. Doors are made of wood. But you’ll never believe who walked through the doorway.

  It was Miss Newman!

  “The children would like to talk to you about weather,” Mr. Cooper told her.

  “Oh, that stuff is so confusing,” said Miss Newman. “How about we have a contest instead?”

  “Oooh, I love contests!” said Andrea. “Do we get to win something?”

  Andrea loves winning stuff. She probably has a room at home full of awards and trophies to show how good she is at everything. What is her problem? Why can’t a truck full of trophies fall on her head?

  “Of course!” said Miss Newman. “The winner will get a special prize.”

  “I love prizes!” shouted Andrea and Emily, clapping their hands together.

  “How do we play?” asked Ryan.

  “It’s simple,” said Miss Newman. “I’ll ask some questions. Whoever gets the right answer to each question wins a point. At the end, the student with the most points wins the prize.”

  Hmmm. This was going to be weird. Miss Newman didn’t seem to know anything without reading it off a cue card. How was she going to ask us questions?

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “Ready!”

  “Okay, here’s the first question,” said Miss Newman. “Where do clouds go to the bathroom?”

  “HUH?” we all said, which is also “HUH” backward.

  That was a weird question. Clouds don’t go to the bathroom.

  Then it hit me. I knew the answer!

  “Clouds go to the bathroom anywhere they want!” I shouted. “Because they’re clouds!”

  “Right!” said Miss Newman. “That’s one point for A.J.!”

  Yay! I got a point!

  Andrea looked all mad. She hates it when she’s not winning.

  “Don’t we have to raise our hands to answer the questions?” she asked.

  “No,” said Miss Newman. “The first person to shout out the correct answer wins the point. Next question. How is snow white?”

  “HUH?” everybody said.

  “How should I know how Snow White is?” I shouted. “Ask the seven dwarfs!”

  “Correct!” said Miss Newman. “That’s two points for A.J.!”

  “What?!” said Andrea. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

  Andrea was really mad now. I was afraid smoke might start pouring out of her ears. Well, nah-nah-nah boo-boo on her. I was winning, 2–0. “Next question,” said Miss Neman. “Do you know why weather wants its privacy?”

  “HUH?”

  I knew the answer to that one.

  “Weather wants its privacy because it’s always changing!” I shouted. “Get it?”

  “That’s right!” said Miss Newman. “Three points! You are really good at this game, A.J.”

  “Thank you!” I said, sticking my tongue out at Andrea. In her face!

  “It’s not fair!” Andrea shouted. “These questions are just silly!”

  Andrea is such a sore loser. Now I had three points, and everybody else had nothing. This was the greatest day of my life.

  “Let’s move on to the next question,” said Miss Newman. “Is it hard for gusts of wind to talk to each other?”

  “HUH?”

  I didn’t know the answer to that one.

  “No, it’s a breeze!” shouted Andrea.

  “Right!” said Miss Newman. “Andrea gets a point. Three-to-one.”

  Andrea stuck her tongue out at me.

  “Next question,” said Miss Newman. “Why don’t meteorologists like going out to dinner on the moon?”

  “HUH?”

  I slapped my head. I didn’t know that one either.

  “Because there’s no atmosphere!” shouted Andrea.

  “Correct!” said Miss Newman. “That’s another point for Andrea. You’re catching up. It’s three-to-two now.”

  Andrea smiled the smile she smiles to let everybody know she knows something nobody else knows.

  “Next question,” said Miss Newman. “What does a meteorologist order in a Tex-Mex restaurant?”

  “HUH?”

  “Chili!” shouted Andrea.

  “Yes!” said Miss Newman. “Very good, Andrea! Now it’s all tied up at three-to-three. It’s time for the tiebreaker. This will be the last question. If A.J. gets this one right, he will be the winner. If Andrea gets it right, she will be the winner.”

  Everybody was looking at me and Andrea. There was electricity in the air.

  Well, not really. If there was electricity in the air, we would have all been electrocuted. But everybody was glued to their seats.

  Well, not really. Why would anybody glue themselves to a seat? They’d get glue on their pants. Then they’d have to take the pants to a dry cleaner. But everybody was on pins and needles.

  Well, not really. We were sitting on chairs. If we were on pins and needles, it would have hurt.

  But it was really exciting! You should have been there! I had to beat Andrea.

  “Okay, here’s the last question,” said Miss Newman. “What is the opposite of a hurricane?”

  “HUH?”

  The opposite of a hurricane? There’s no opposite of a hurricane! “Up” is the opposite of “down.” “Big” is the opposite of “little.” But there’s no opposite of a hurricane. The opposite of a hurricane would be no hurricane.

  “No hurricane!” shouted Emily.

  “Sorry, but that’s wrong,” said Miss Newman.

  Hmmm. I looked at Ryan. Ryan looked at Michael. Michael looked at Neil. Neil looked at Alexia. Alexia looked at me. Everybody was looking at each other. Nobody knew the answer.

  I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I had to think fast. I was concentrating so hard that my brain hurt. I didn’t want Andrea to win.

  Then it hit me.

  “The opposite of a hurricane,” Andrea and I shouted at the exact same time, “is a himmicane!”

  “That’s right!” Miss Newman yelled. “You both get a point. A.J. and Andrea both win the prize!”

  Everybody started yelling and screaming and shrieking and hooting and hollering and freaking out.

  “So what do we win?” asked Andrea.

  “You win . . . ,” said Miss Newman, “. . . a ride in the Channel 4 weather balloon!”

  WHAT?!

  I thought the prize was going to be a candy bar, or a million dollars. I didn’t want to go on a balloon ride with Andrea.

  “Ooooo!” Ryan said. “A.J. and Andrea are going on a balloon ride together. They must be in love!”

  “When are you gonna get married?” asked Michael.

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

  “Ryan, you can go on the balloon ride instead of me,” I said.

  “Really?” Ryan replied. “Cool!”

  “I’m sorry, boys,” said Miss Newman, “but A.J. won the contest fair and square. He can’t give the prize away.”

  “Uh . . . I have to go to the bathroom,” I said. “Maybe I’ll go on the balloon ride some other time.”

  “You do not have to go to the bathroom, Arlo!” Andrea said. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to go on the balloon ride with me.”<
br />
  Andrea put her hands on her hips. And you know what it means when girls put their hands on their hips.*

  There was no way out of it. I had to go on the balloon ride with Andrea. Ugh.

  “Okay, everybody!” shouted Mr. Cooper. “Pringle up!”

  We walked to the playground. Mr. Klutz was out there next to the Channel 4 weather balloon, tied to the ground with ropes.

  Well, the balloon was tied to the ground with ropes, not Mr. Klutz. It would be weird if Mr. Klutz was tied to the ground with ropes.

  “Do I have to go on the balloon ride?” I asked.

  “This is going to be fun, A.J.!” he told me. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience!”

  Having an elephant fall on your head would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience too, but I don’t want that to happen.

  Miss Newman climbed into the basket under the balloon. Andrea climbed into the basket next. Then I climbed in. The basket was small. There was just enough room in there for the three of us and a video camera.

  “Bon voyage!” shouted Mr. Klutz.

  Huh? He was suddenly talking French for no reason!

  “Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . ,” everybody started chanting, “seven . . . six . . . five . . .”

  I held on to the side of the basket.

  “. . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . .”

  “Okay, release the ropes!” yelled Miss Newman.

  “Bye!” all the kids shouted.

  The balloon started rising. It felt like I was in an elevator, but there were no buttons. The ground fell away.

  “Wheeee!” shouted Andrea. “This is fun!”

  Not for me. I thought I was gonna die.

  “Is something wrong, A.J.?” asked Miss Newman.

  “No, nothing,” I replied.

  “You’re pale as a ghost,” she said, putting her hand on my forehead.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re sweating, Arlo,” Andrea said. “You look sick. What is it?”

  I closed my eyes.

  “Okay,” I finally admitted. “I’m afraid of heights.”

  There, I said it. It’s scary being in high places. I don’t like to be in an airplane. I don’t like to be in tall buildings. I don’t even like elevators. We were rising higher and higher over the roof of the school.