The kids in the library are busting their guts laughing.
“Killer material, Stevie,” says Vincent O’Neil. “You funny!”
“Really?” says Stevie with a smile, which is something the Smiley family seldom does. Then he turns to me.
“I want to do like you do, Jamie,” he says. “You crack jokes about whatever’s bothering you or whoever’s trying to knock you on your butt. Heck, you even make fun of me.”
He leans in and grabs me by the shirt with both hands.
Only this time I can tell: Stevie Kosgrov doesn’t want to heave me out of my chair and toss me sideways like a lumpy sack of potatoes.
“Help me, cuz! I need to crack jokes before I crack up!” he pleads.
Is this real life? Stevie Kosgrov is begging for my help!
I think back to all the terrible things Stevie’s done to me and other kids. Nobody would blame me for turning him down.
But I remember what Uncle Frankie said. Everyone has their battles, and everyone deserves a chance.
So I say the words I might regret for the rest of my life.…
“No problem, Stevie,” I tell him. “Welcome to the School of Laughs!”
Chapter 48
STEVIE FUNNIE!
Thursday after school, we organize a dress rehearsal for the big comedy showcase on Friday—the day Mrs. Critchett and the rest of the school board will be coming back to see how many students are actually using the library.
How many kids show up to the dress rehearsal?
Just about all of them! Everybody, including Stevie Kosgrov, is having so much fun making jokes about what random but cool stuff they’ve learned. I think the only student not in the library is Lars Johannsen. Then again, he called in sick.
“A very bad case of stomach cramps and gas,” says Stevie. “Totally powered by Meathead protein shakes.”
According to Stevie, those shakes will definitely make you “go, go, go.” As in, to the bathroom. Constantly!
“Lars drinks, like, fifteen bottles a day,” Stevie tells me. “That’s why his breath stinks so bad.”
“It does?” I ask.
“Big-time,” says Stevie. “His breath is so bad, I never know whether to give him Tic Tacs or toilet paper.”
I laugh. “You’re definitely funny, Stevie.”
“Thanks.”
“And you’ll see—popping punch lines is more fun than punching people.”
“I wish Lars could be here,” says Stevie. “He could use funny lessons, too. It’s not easy being bullied by somebody bigger and meaner than you.”
Right. Tell me about it.
“Well,” I suggest, “maybe when Lars is feeling better, you can tutor him.”
“Yeah. ‘Each one teach one’ is a better motto than ‘Each one beat one.’”
By the end of the day, Stevie Kosgrov is my star student. Maybe it’s something about his size. Or how tiny the microphone looks in his hand. Or his warped view of the world. Whatever it is, during the final run-through, Stevie Kosgrov kills, big-time. And, in a first for him, he does it without actually injuring anybody.
“You know,” he tells the packed library, “when you drink all those Meathead protein shakes all day, every day, your breath smells so bad, you could win the Hunger Games just by yawning.”
Everybody’s laughing instead of trembling with fear—a first for Long Beach Middle School’s longest-reigning bully.
It’s sort of fun to see Stevie work out all his bottled-up hostility against Coach Ball. In the School of Laughs, he’s just cracking jokes—not somebody’s ribs.
“The other day,” he tells his audience, “Coach Ball said, ‘Stevie, I’m not supposed to let you wrestle anymore, since you failed math. But I need you on the team. So, what I have to do is ask you a math question, and if you get it right, you can stay on the team.’ I said, ‘Okay, Coach.’ He looked me in the eye and said, ‘Okay, concentrate really, really hard: What is two plus two?’ I thought for a second and answered, ‘Four!’ Coach looked stunned. ‘Did you say “four”?’ He said it like he couldn’t believe it. That’s when Lars started screaming, ‘Come on, Coach. Give him another chance!’”
Everybody laughs.
Me? I’m grinning from ear to ear. I’m glad I gave my cousin Stevie another chance. I’m also glad he let me live long enough to give it to him.
“All right, everybody,” I say at the end of the run-through. “Tomorrow’s the big day. We’ll do the show for the school board during seventh period, and then Gilda will draw a name out of her hat to see which one of you will be a guest star on Jamie Funnie when we start shooting new shows.”
“Is she going to pull it out of her Boston Red Sox hat?” asks Stevie.
“Yep,” says Gilda, probably remembering the time not so long ago when Stevie threatened her with serious bodily harm for supporting a Boston team anywhere within one hundred miles of Yankee Stadium. “You got a problem with that, Stevie?”
“Nope. But it reminds me of a joke I just made up over in the geography section. How do you know if somebody’s from Boston?”
“How?” I ask.
“They think Philadelphia is the Midwest.”
I smile. Not just because Stevie’s joke is semifunny.
Nope. I’m feeling super confident: Tomorrow, when those school board members show up and Ms. Bumgarten makes her official tally of all these kids in this packed room, we’re going to be okay because we’re using the library to save the library!
Chapter 49
ALL THE RAGE
The next morning, Stevie actually walks to school with me and my friends.
“This isn’t some kind of stealthy, undercover bully tactic, is it?” asks Gaynor. “You’re seriously not going to beat us up?”
“Nah,” says Stevie. “My bullying days are behind me, guys. I’m going to become a comedian like Lewis Black. He’s always so angry. He even did the voice for the red guy, Anger, in that Pixar movie Inside Out. I could do that. I could yell at a camera better than anyone.”
“So you’re not going to shake us down if we refuse to drink those vile Meathead protein shakes?” asks Pierce.
“Nope. But Coach Ball might,” says Stevie. “He really likes those muscleheads from the Meathead company. I think they like him, too. They even bought him a new car.”
“No way!” says Gilda.
“Way,” says Stevie. “Or, since we’re talking about protein shakes, whey!”
“Um, Stevie?” I say.
“Yeah?”
“Jokes that rely on spelling don’t really work when you say them out loud.”
Stevie nods and pulls out a little spiral notebook to jot that down. “Duly noted, Coach. Thanks for the tip.”
Who is this guy?
Stevie continues. “Now Coach Ball drives a Maserati convertible that’s even cooler than the cherry-red Mustang in Jamie’s bedroom.”
“You mean the garage,” I say.
Stevie shrugs. “You could’ve bunked in my room.”
I grin. “No, thanks. I like my roommate. Mustangs don’t punch.”
When we get to school, I check out Coach Ball’s new Maserati in the parking lot. It is a sweet ride—even with the Meathead decals on the doors.
I roll into the library.
Ms. Denning and Uncle Frankie finish hanging up a banner that says DEWEY LIKE TO LAUGH? I guess because of the library’s Dewey decimal system. Or maybe Scrooge McDuck’s grandnephews, Huey, Louie, and Dewey.
“Mrs. Kressin, the drama club teacher, let me borrow her sound system,” says Ms. Denning, pushing a cart with an amplifier and speaker.
“Where do you want this?” asks Uncle Frankie, pushing another cart with an LED projector on it.
“Park it over there, Francis,” says Ms. Denning. “We’ll turn it on later and use it as a spotlight for the kids.”
“I love it,” I say. “Now you guys are improvising, too!”
“So when’s the big show, Flora?” asks U
ncle Frankie.
“Seventh period. The last period of the day. Most of the teachers are giving their students passes so they can come down here and take part in the comedy showcase.”
“They’re helping you out?” says Uncle Frankie. “Aren’t they afraid of what their boss, Coach Ball, might do if he finds out?”
“Maybe,” says Ms. Denning. “But they’re more afraid of what will happen to everybody’s education at Long Beach Middle if he gets his way and we lose our library. Who knows what part of the school he’ll get rid of next!”
Chapter 50
SHOWTIME!
At lunch, kids all over the cafeteria are trying out their showcase material one last time.
Some jokes are so funny, whole tables are rolling on the floor with laughter, which is usually my job. Well, the rolling-on-the-floor part, anyway.
Everyone’s having such a good time that they don’t even notice how terrible the food is. I’m glad I asked them to write jokes about nonobvious things. Making fun of the cafeteria lunches would be so easy, I’d have to mark it as cheating.
At sixth period, kids start filing into the library.
“Everybody work on your material or grab a book to come up with a new joke,” I suggest. “We’ve got forty-two minutes until showtime!”
When the class change bell rings, it really looks like the whole entire student body is streaming into the library. The place is packed. There is no way the school board will ever vote to shut it down!
“You done good, Jamie,” Uncle Frankie tells me. He never misses any of my performances. “Real good!”
The class bell rings at 2:15. It’s go time!
But Mrs. Critchett and the school board aren’t here.
At 2:20, they still haven’t shown up.
“Maybe they’re running a little late,” I tell the crowd. “Maybe they saw a fire truck and all went racing home to make sure their house wasn’t the one on fire.”
My lame joke gets a few chuckles. The nervous kind.
“Maybe we should make a few phone calls,” Uncle Frankie suggests to Ms. Denning.
“Not yet, Francis,” she tells him. “Let’s give them a few more minutes.”
Finally, at 2:30, Ms. Bumgarten marches into the library. The crowd parts. She comes up to me, motions for the microphone. I hand it to her.
“Congratulations, Ms. Denning,” she says. “You’ve certainly turned things around in here.”
Everybody applauds. Uncle Frankie tosses in a couple of “woo-hoos!”
“Thank you, Janeece,” says Ms. Denning. “The kids are eager to learn, and there’s no better place than a library to learn whatever you want to know.”
“I commend your efforts.”
“We’re going to put on a comedy show for the school board!” shouts Vincent O’Neil. “Only they won’t be bored when they hear our jokes!”
Ms. Bumgarten shakes her head. “Sorry, children. There will be no comedy show today. The school board has been called into an emergency session. They will not be able to visit the library, and have therefore, at Coach Ball’s suggestion, decided to use my earlier library usage statistics to help them reach their decision. Kindly disperse. You are dismissed for the day.”
There’s a stunned silence. I can’t believe everything has gone so wrong so quickly.
Feeling a deep sense of dread, I ask, “Um, when exactly did you take attendance?”
“While you and your friends were off filming your TV show,” she says. “When nobody was using the library.”
Chapter 51
EMERGENCY ACTION
Emergency session?” hollers Stevie, balling up his fists as his face turns redder than a ketchup stain on Santa’s suit. “I’ll give them an emergency!”
I touch his elbow. “Don’t give in to the dark side of the Force, Stevie,” I say in my best Jedi Knight voice. “Make jokes, not fists.”
He relaxes. A little.
“What the heck is goin’ on here, ma’am?” demands Uncle Frankie. “What emergency could possibly be more important than all these kids trying to save their school’s library? Is somebody having a heart attack or something?”
“No,” says the vice principal. “However, Coach Ball has an emergency with regard to Long Island interscholastic athletics. Apparently, the wrestling season starts next week. Therefore, he demanded that the school board meet immediately and vote to give him the sweat room he needs to, and I quote, ‘bring home the championship trophy.’”
“He’s also going to need some new wrestlers!” shouts Stevie. “Because I quit!”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Stephen,” says Ms. Bumgarten. “I was hoping that wrestling might cure some of your disciplinary issues.”
“It doesn’t have to!” says Stevie. “Comedy already has!”
“But we were told that today was the big day,” says Gilda. “We’ve been building to this showcase for weeks. Surely, the board can’t make a decision this important without all the facts.”
“But they have the facts,” says the vice principal. “As I told you, I gave them my earlier numbers.”
“You gave them old news,” says Uncle Frankie.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could give them today’s updated statistics, but Coach Ball forced my hand. He said there was a time crunch. And to prove his point, he crushed my desk clock. He is quite difficult to work for. I eat two dozen Rolaids every day. My hair is falling out in clumps.…”
“So he’s bullying you, too?” says Ms. Denning.
“Yes,” says Ms. Bumgarten. “Horribly.”
“Where’s the board meeting?” I ask.
“In the cafeteria. Coach Ball is serving refreshments. Corn dogs and Meathead protein shakes.”
Stevie urps and almost hurls.
“They will be considering a motion to eliminate the library line item from the school budget in order that Coach Ball might use that money, plus a generous endowment from an outside sponsor, to construct the Meathead Wrestling Room.”
“When’s the vote?” I ask.
Ms. Bumgarten checks her watch. “In ten minutes. No, nine.”
Nine minutes?
I’ve got to think of a plan B, fast. Because plan A just went out the window, even though the library doesn’t have any windows, which is why Coach Ball wants to turn it into his sweatshop!
“Again, I’m sorry,” says Ms. Bumgarten. “I think what you kids have done here at the library is incredible. I wish it didn’t have to end this way.”
And then she leaves—sucking all the joy, laughter, and energy out of the room.
Gilda spins on her heel, grabs both my armrests, and leans in. “Jamie? You’ve got to do something!”
“Everybody follow me!” I shout. “I have a new idea. We’re taking this show on the road!”
“Vegas?” asks Vincent O’Neil eagerly.
“Nope! The cafeteria. We’re not quitting. If the school board won’t come to us, we’ll go to the school board! Quitters never win, and winners never quit. Right, Ms. Denning?”
She looks at me. Her eyes are kind of watery. Uncle Frankie’s, too.
“You’re wonderful, Jamie Grimm!” she says, sounding choked up. “Come on, Francis. Help me pack up.”
“Your desk?” says Uncle Frankie.
“No, that banner! We need it for when we march into the cafeteria!”
Gilda grabs my armrests again, to give me a quick pep talk, I’m guessing.
I would be wrong.
She leans in to kiss me.
In public. In front of the entire student body, Uncle Frankie, and Ms. Denning.
Now I’m the one with a face redder than Santa’s ketchup-stained suit.
Chapter 52
ROAD SHOW
Uncle Frankie and Ms. Denning take down the DEWEY LIKE TO LAUGH? banner and stretch it out between them to lead the parade.
Gaynor grabs the rolling sound equipment cart. Vincent packs up our spotlight—the portable LED projector.
&nbs
p; I roll over to the magazine rack.
“What are you doing?” asks Gilda.
“Some quick research,” I tell her as I flip through the pages of a business magazine that just caught my eye. There’s a big logo for Meathead protein shakes on the cover.
“Research? Now? Why?”
“Because I need some new knowledge for my part of the show.”
“Um, couldn’t you have done that a long time ago?”
“Nope.” I furiously flip through the glossy pages. “I just got the idea for this bit from Stevie, like, two minutes ago! Jimmy?” I call to Pierce. “I need some more information. Fast.”
“Then I’m your man.” Pierce links his hands together to crack his knuckles.
I give him keywords to search.
“On it!” He bustles off to the library’s computers.
“Bring me everything you can in five minutes!”
“No problem,” says Pierce. “I’ll out-Google Google!”
I roll up the magazine. Jam it into the backpack strapped behind my chair.
“You guys,” Vincent O’Neil says to the crowd of would-be comics, “the cafeteria will be the perfect place for our show! It’ll be just like doing dinner theater! We can crack food jokes, too!”
“No,” I say. “Stick to the smart stuff you learned in the library.”
“And be sure to cite your sources!” adds Ms. Denning. (What can I say? She’s a librarian. They’re all about the source citing.)
Uncle Frankie and Ms. Denning lead the way, carrying that DEWEY banner. I roll right behind them. Our five-hundred-plus library-loving comedians march down the halls behind me. If we had a few balloons and a brass band, we could be the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade!