Bummer in the Summer! Page 3

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Somebody had to drive all those ghosts over here.”

  “Get out of my bedroom!” I screamed at her. “Ghosts don’t take buses!”

  “Sheesh,” she said. “Don’t take it out on me. You have an anger management problem, you know that?”

  The clock struck three.

  “A.J. . . . A.J. . . . A.J. . . . ,” whispered an annoying, squeaky voice.

  Oh no. I opened my eyes. There was another ghost floating over my bed. It was a smaller ghost than the other ghosts.

  “Guess who, A.J.?” the ghost said in a taunting voice.

  “My sister, Amy?” I guessed.

  “No,” said the ghost. “It’s me, Emily!”

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”

  She let out an eerie cackling laugh.

  “You thought those other ghosts were scary?” the ghost of Emily said. “Well, I’m going to be your worst nightmare, A.J.”

  “What did I ever do to you?” I asked, trembling.

  “Are you kidding?” the ghost of Emily asked, getting right in my face. “You’ve been making fun of me and calling me a crybaby for years. Every time I fell down in the playground or had something fall on my head, you were there to laugh and say something mean. You try to scare me every day. And why? Just to make your dopey friends laugh.”

  “Well, that’s true,” I admitted. “But I can explain that—”

  “No!” the ghost of Emily shouted at me. “Now I’m going to do the explaining, A.J.! I know why you say mean things to me. It’s because you’re an immature, obnoxious, and insecure little boy.”

  “I am not!” I shouted. “Stop saying mean things to me!”

  “No!” the ghost of Emily shouted in my face. “You’re mean to my best friend, Andrea, all the time too. And I know why. It’s to disguise the fact that you are secretly in love with her! Ha! There, I said it!”

  “I am not in love with Andrea!” I shouted.

  “Liar!” the ghost of Emily yelled. “Admit it! You’re a liar and a hater! And not only that, but you’re . . . a dumbhead!”

  WHAT?! I can’t believe she called me the D word. That’s like the worst thing you can say to anybody. I felt tears gathering in the corners of my eyes.

  “Are you crying, A.J.?” the ghost of Emily said. “Is that a tear I see? Well, I guess the shoe is on the other foot now, isn’t it, A.J.?”

  “Why would I put my shoes on the wrong feet?” I whimpered, wiping my eyes. “What do shoes have to do with anything?”

  “Don’t play dumb, A.J.,” shouted the ghost of Emily. “Being made fun of isn’t much fun when people are making fun of you, now is it?”

  “Stop! Leave me alone!” I shouted.

  “Oh, I’ll leave you alone,” said the ghost of Emily. “Everybody is going to leave you alone this summer. So nah-nah-nah boo-boo on you! How does it feel? How does it feel to be on your own, with no direction home, like a complete unknown?”*

  “It feels bad,” I said, wiping my face with my sheet.

  “You made me cry so many times, A.J.,” the ghost of Emily said. “Well, who’s crying now? You’re going to have the worst summer of your life! I’ll make sure of it! Good-BYE!”

  The ghost of Emily made that eerie cackling laugh again and drifted out the window, like the other ghosts.

  What a horrible night. Nothing could make this night any worse.

  And then something happened that made the night even worse.

  The clock struck four. It was useless to try and go back to sleep. Soon it would be morning. Somehow, I’d survived. It was almost time to get up and go to school. And then . . .

  “A.J. . . . A.J. . . . A.J. . . .”

  Oh no. Not another one.

  I heard a faraway rumbling sound. Scary music started to play. I didn’t want to open my eyes to find out who or what I was going to encounter next. But I did anyway. I looked down and noticed that the floor of my room was covered in smoke. And then . . .

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”

  It was a dark, hooded figure floating over my bed. I couldn’t see its face. I didn’t want to see its face. It was sure to be terrifying.

  And then the scary figure spoke.

  “Come . . . with . . . me, . . . Arlo.”

  Wait. Arlo? There’s only one person in the world that calls me by my real name. Even my parents don’t call me Arlo. It had to be . . .

  Andrea Young!

  It couldn’t be true! Not Andrea! Not after everything I had already been through!

  “You sound like Andrea,” I whispered, shrinking back in terror.

  “That’s because I am Andrea!” she shouted, pulling the hood away from her face. She let out an eerie cackling laugh.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” I screamed. “Mom! Dad! Help!”

  “Your parents can’t hear you, Arlo,” the ghost of Andrea told me. “It’s just you and me now.”

  “What do you want?” I asked, my voice quivering. “Leave me alone.”

  “I’m the ghost of summers yet to come, Arlo,” the ghost of Andrea said in a spooky voice. “I’m here to show you your future.”

  “I don’t want to see my future!” I screamed, gathering the covers around me. “Seeing the past was horrible. Seeing right now was horrible. I can’t imagine how bad the future is going to be.”

  “Oh, the future is going to be wonderful, Arlo,” the ghost of Andrea assured me.

  “No, it won’t,” I said. “You’re trying to trick me. And stop calling me Arlo.”

  “But that’s your name,” the ghost of Andrea said. “Come with me, Arlo.”

  “No.”

  I folded my hands across my chest, because that’s what you do when you don’t want to go anywhere. Nobody knows why.

  “Arlo,” the ghost of Andrea repeated, “come with me.”

  “No! No way!”

  “I . . . said, . . . come . . . with . . . ME!”

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”

  The next thing I knew, the ghost of Andrea had grabbed my hand, yanked me out of bed, and shoved me out the window. We were flying. But I didn’t want to fly anymore. Not with Andrea.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked as we floated over my house.

  “Oh, you’ll find out. Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

  Late? Late for what?

  We flew past some rooftops, and then Andrea made a right turn at the corner and swooped down toward the steeple of a church.

  “Why are we going to church?” I asked.

  “Why do you think we’re going to church, Arlo?” the ghost of Andrea replied.

  We glided inside the church. I looked down. All our teachers and the other grown-ups from Ella Mentry School were sitting in the pews. I could see Ms. Hannah, the art teacher. She was sitting next to Miss Lazar, the custodian. There was Miss Holly, the Spanish teacher, and Mr. Tony, the after-school program director. Miss Klute, our therapy dog, was there. Even Ella Mentry was there, the old lady our school was named after. Everybody was all dressed up in their nicest clothes.

  Standing in the front of all the pews and facing the crowd was Mayor Hubble, the mayor of our town. He was holding a book. There were two people standing in front of him. A boy and a girl. They were turned around so I couldn’t tell who they were. The boy was wearing a black suit and the girl was wearing a long white gown.

  Then I realized something. The boy and the girl . . . were me and Andrea!

  Ahhhhhhhhhhh!* I couldn’t even scream. The words were stuck in my throat. Andrea and I were about to be married!

  “Isn’t this romantic, Arlo?” asked the ghost of Andrea.

  “No!”

  “Dear friends,” said Mayor Hubble, “we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of this woman, Andrea, and this man, A.J.—”

  “Nooooooooooooo!” I hollered. “This can’t be happening!”

  “Oh, Arlo, don’t be silly,” the ghost of Andrea told me. “You knew this day would come. You and
I were destined to be together. It’s fate.”

  “Nooooooooooooo!”

  The ghost of Andrea had a smile on her face. “Don’t I look pretty down there in my wedding dress?” she asked. “And you look so handsome, Arlo.”

  “Nooooooooooooo!”

  “In their years together,” said Mayor Hubble, “A.J. and Andrea have come to realize that their personal hopes, goals, and dreams . . . blah blah blah blah . . . and so they have decided to live together as husband and wife.”

  “Nooooooooooooo! Please don’t make me! I’ll do anything.”

  “In the future, you’re going to grow up and become mature,” the ghost of Andrea told me. “You’ll stop saying mean things and doing mean things to people. We’re going to have nine children together, and they’re all going to look like me.”

  “No! It can’t be true!”

  “Oh, calm down, Arlo,” the ghost of Andrea told me. “We’re going to live happily ever after, just like in the fairy tales.”

  “Nooooooooooooo!”

  “Is there anyone here who has a reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony?” asked Mayor Hubble. “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

  “I DO!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “ME! A.J.!”

  “Anyone?” asked Mayor Hubble, looking around.

  “ME!” I screamed again. “I have a big problem with this!”

  “He can’t hear you, Arlo,” said the ghost of Andrea. “Nobody can hear you except me.”

  “Okay then,” said Mayor Hubble. “Do you, Andrea, take this man to be your lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish . . . blah blah blah blah . . . till death do you part?”

  “I do,” Andrea said.

  “Stop!” I screamed. “Make it go away! Isn’t there anything I can do? Does it have to be this way? Please don’t make me get married to Andrea! I’m sorry for everything I ever did! I can change! I’ll be nicer! To everybody! I promise! Please? Forgive me! I just want to go to sleep! I’m too young to be married!”

  “It’s too late, Arlo,” the ghost of Andrea told me. “There’s nothing you can do to stop it. This is your future. We’re going to have a summer wedding.”

  Mayor Hubble didn’t hear anything we were saying.

  “And do you, A.J., take this woman to be your wife, in sickness and in health . . . blah blah blah blah . . . till death do you part?”

  “NO!” I shouted as loud I could. “I DON’T!”

  “Wonderful!” said Mayor Hubble. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. A.J., you may kiss the bride.”

  “Ahhhhhhhhh! Noooooooooo! Help!”

  The ghost of Andrea turned to me and let out another eerie cackling laugh. Then she made a kissy-face with her lips.

  And then she leaned toward me.

  That’s all I remember. I woke up covered in sweat. The clock at my bedside said it was seven o’clock, which was weird because I never had a clock at my bedside. I wonder where that clock came from.

  I looked around. Everything seemed normal. There was no evidence that all those ghosts had visited me during the night.

  “A.J.!” my mom called from downstairs. “It’s time to get up for school.”

  “I don’t feel good, Mom,” I said. “Can I stay home today?”

  “Oh, you say that every day, silly!” my mother replied.

  I dragged myself out of bed and got dressed. I went downstairs to eat breakfast and rode my bike to school.

  The first person I saw when I got to class was Andrea. She was putting her backpack into her cubby.

  “Good morning, Arlo,” Andrea said cheerfully.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” I screamed in horror. “Don’t touch me! Leave me alone!”

  “What is your problem?” Andrea asked. “All I said was good morning.”

  I went over to the guys, hoping Andrea wouldn’t follow me.

  “Are you okay, dude?” Ryan asked me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I did,” I told him. “I feel sick. I think I need to go to the nurse’s office.”

  That’s when the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened. Our school nurse, Mrs. Cooney, was walking by our classroom.

  “Did somebody say the word ‘sick’?” she asked excitedly. Mrs. Cooney loves it when kids get sick. If kids didn’t get sick, she wouldn’t have a job.

  “A.J. thinks he’s sick,” said Michael.

  Mrs. Cooney pulled a thermometer out of her pocket.

  “Say ah,” she said, poking the thermometer into my mouth.

  It took a million hundred seconds for the thermometer to beep. Finally it did, and Mrs. Cooney looked at it.

  “Ninety-eight point six,” she said. “Perfectly normal. You’re fine, A.J.”

  “Arlo is faking it,” Andrea told Mrs. Cooney. “He just wants to get out of school. Arlo does that all the time. But he is really sick—sick in the head!”

  “Oh, snap!” said Ryan. “Andrea said you’re sick in the head! Are you gonna take that, A.J.?”

  I looked at Andrea. She had her hands on her hips. When girls put their hands on their hips, it means they’re mad. Nobody knows why.

  “Aren’t you going to say something mean back to Andrea?” asked Neil.

  “Yeah, A.J.,” said Michael. “Aren’t you going to say something mean back to Andrea?”

  I was faced with the hardest decision of my life. If I said something mean back to Andrea, I would get in trouble. And if I didn’t say something mean back to Andrea, all the guys would say I was in love with her. Ryan was looking at me. Michael was looking at me. Neil was looking at me. Emily was looking at me. Everybody was looking at me.

  It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.* I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I had to think fast.

  “No,” I said. “I’m not going to say something mean back to Andrea.”

  I went to my desk and sat down.

  “Oooooh,” Ryan said, “A.J. isn’t going to say anything mean back to Andrea! He must be in love with her!”

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

  Well, that’s pretty much what happened. Maybe all those ghosts will stop bothering me and mind their own business. Maybe I’ll get to fly again. Maybe Billy will stop running around in his underwear. Maybe the ghost will get out of our vacuum cleaner. Maybe the earth’s rotation will slow down again so we can have summer this year. Maybe Dr. Brad will strap me to a chair and put a monkey brain in my skull. Maybe the ice cream shortage will end. Maybe I won’t have to repeat first, second, and third grade. Maybe Emily will stop saying mean things to me. Maybe I won’t have to marry Andrea. Maybe I’ll get a good night’s sleep again. Maybe I’ll try to be a nicer person.

  But it won’t be easy!

  WEIRD EXTRAS!

  Professor A.J.’s Weird Summer Facts

  Fun Games and Weird Word Puzzles

  My Weird School Trivia Questions

  PROFESSOR A.J.’S WEIRD SUMMER FACTS

  Howdy, fellow weirdos! This is your old pal Professor A.J., speaking to you from my secret laboratory hidden in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. I’ve been hiding here ever since I found out that I’ll have to marry Andrea someday. She’ll never find me here.

  Since I’m in the gifted and talented program at school, I know lots of stuff that normal kids don’t know. Today I’m going to tell you about my favorite time of year: summer.

  Summer started a long, long time ago, back in 1976. Before that year, there was no summer. It’s true. People went from spring right into winter. It was a sad time. Everybody was depressed. Kids were crying all the time. Nobody knew what to do about it. And then this guy named Bob Summer came up with the idea of sticking a new season between spring and winter. Everybody thought he was a genius, and they named the new season after Bob Summer. If you ask me, they should have called the new
season Bob. So then the seasons would be winter, spring, fall, and Bob. But anyway, Bob Summer won the Nobel Prize for coming up with the idea. That’s a prize they give out to people who don’t have bells. And that, my friends, is how summer was born.

  Arlo, you totally made that up!

  Eeeeek! It’s Andrea! Who let you in here?

  Don’t you remember? We’re supposed to write this part of the book together. So here’s some real true stuff about summer that most people probably don’t know. . . .

  You’ve heard of the Eiffel Tower in Paris? Well, it’s made of iron. In the summer, the iron gets hot and it expands. So the tower is more than six inches taller in the summer than it is in the winter.

  What?! Get out of here! That can’t be true! You made that up.

  It’s true, Arlo. If you don’t believe me, look it up.

  Oh, yeah. Well, I can top that summer fact. Try this one on for size—an eleven-year-old kid invented ice pops.

  Very funny, Arlo.

  It’s true.

  No way!

  Yes way! His name was Frank Epperson, and he lived in the San Francisco Bay Area. One night during the winter of 1905, he was fooling around with some sugary soda powder. He mixed it with water and stirred it up. Then he accidentally left it outside with the stirring stick in it. In the morning, the liquid was frozen, and Epperson had the first ice pop in the history of the world.

  How could you possibly know that, Arlo?

  I happen to know a lot about ice pops, okay? Epperson named his new invention the Epsicle and started selling it to the kids in his neighborhood.

  I get it—he combined “Epperson” and “icicle” to get “Epsicle.” So where did the name Popsicle come from?

  Epperson waited almost twenty years to get a patent for his invention. It was his own children who convinced him to change the name. It was their “Pop’s ’Sicle,” so it became the “Popsicle.”

  That sounds a lot like one of your ridiculous stories, Arlo.