Miss Brown Is Upside Down! (4 page)

Round two would be worth a hundred points, and it was winner take all. We were going to compete to see which team's bridge could support the most weight.

Miss Brown helped us all carry the Bridge of Love out onto the stage. Then we watched as the Dirk kids brought
out their bridge.

“Look at that!” Ryan said. “Their bridge is amazing!”

He was right. The Dirk bridge was ten times bigger than the Bridge of Love. Our bridge was sort of like a plain old plank that you would put across a little stream. Their bridge looked like a real bridge that you could drive a car over. They even decorated it with little road signs.

“Oh no, we're finished,” moaned Alexia. “We might as well just give up now.”

“Think positive!” Miss Brown told us. “It doesn't matter which bridge looks better. The only thing that matters is how much weight it can support.”

Dr. Carbles walked around the stage,
looking at both bridges. Then he asked us to tell the audience what materials we used to build them.

“We made our bridge out of toothpicks,” said Neil the nude kid.

“We made our bridge out of matchsticks,” said Morgan Brocklebank.

“Very creative!” said Dr. Carbles. “Now it's time to see which bridge is stronger.”

Some big guys who looked like weight lifters came out carrying a bunch of barbells. They lined them up across the stage. Dr. Carbles told them to put the lightest barbell on the Dirk bridge. Then he told them to take the barbell off and put it on the Bridge of Love.

“Both bridges easily support twenty pounds,” Dr. Carbles announced. “Very good. Let's see if they can handle thirty pounds.”

The weight lifters put the next barbell on the Dirk bridge. Then they put it on the Bridge of Love. Neither of the bridges collapsed.

“Both bridges can hold thirty pounds,” Dr. Carbles announced. “Next?”

The weight lifters put the forty-pound barbell on, and both of the bridges were able to hold it up.

“This is when things get interesting,” announced Dr. Carbles as the guys went to get the fifty-pound barbell.

I was nervous. We all were. Emily weighs fifty-one pounds, and our first bridge couldn't hold her. But when the weight lifters put the fifty-pound barbell on the Bridge of Love, it held up just fine.

“Both bridges can support fifty pounds,” Dr. Carbles announced. “Let's keep going.”

Sixty pounds. Seventy pounds!

Those barbells looked heavy, but both bridges were still standing.

“It's holding up!” Andrea said excitedly.

“The Bridge of Love is amazing!” said Emily.

Eighty pounds! It was so exciting! We
were all on pins and needles.

Well, not really. We were just standing there on the stage. If we had been on pins and needles, it would have hurt.

Ninety pounds!

Everybody wanted to know which bridge would win. The tension was unbearable. There was electricity in the air.

Well, not really. If there was electricity in the air, we all would have been electrocuted.

“Bring out the one-hundred-pound barbell,” ordered Dr. Carbles.

The weight lifters brought out a huge barbell and carefully rested it on our little Bridge of Love.

It held up! I couldn't believe it.

Then they picked up the hundred-pound barbell and lowered it onto the Dirk bridge.

Crunch! Crash!

The bridge collapsed! Matchsticks went flying everywhere! The audience groaned.

“Ella Mentry School wins round two!” announced Dr. Carbles.

“You did it!” shouted Miss Brown.

We were all yelling and screaming and freaking out. It was the greatest moment of my life! I looked across the stage at Morgan Brocklebank and mouthed the words “
nah-nah-nah boo-boo
.”

“Great job, both teams,” said Dr. Carbles. “The score is now 110 to 100 in favor of Ella Mentry School. Let's move on to round three.”

Round three was called “Spontaneous.” I had no idea what that meant, but Little Miss Know-It-All told me spontaneous means “making stuff up on the spot.”

Dr. Carbles went over to speak into the microphone.

“In round three,” he announced, “each
team has to write a poem . . .”

Oh no. Everybody looked at me.

“Arlo, you're good at writing poems,” said Andrea.

“I am not.”

Actually, I am good at writing poems. That was how I got into the gifted and talented program in the first place. I just don't like poetry.

“. . . and the poem,” said Dr. Carbles, “must be about garbage.”

WHAT?!

Dr. Carbles said we would have two minutes to write down our poem. Miss Brown gave us a pad and a pen. We huddled together like a football team.

“Who writes poems about garbage?” whispered Ryan.

“That's a dumb topic,” whispered Michael.

“What are we supposed to say about garbage?” whispered Neil.

“I don't know,” whispered Emily. “We'll come up with something.”

“Arlo, you need to come up with something,” whispered Andrea.

“Why me?” I whispered. “Why don't
you
write a poem about garbage?”

“I don't know how to write poems,” she whispered back. “That's your job!”

“We're running out of time!” whispered Alexia.

I tried to think of a poem about garbage. I was concentrating so hard that my brain hurt.

“I can't think of anything!” I said.

“Time's up!” shouted Dr. Carbles. “Okay, let's hear the garbage poems. Dirk School, you go first.”

Tommy the nose picker went out to the middle of the stage holding his pad. He read his poem . . .

Everybody clapped.

“Man, that poem was lame,” Ryan whispered to me. “You gotta be able to come up with something better than that, A.J.”

“Wonderful, Tommy!” said Dr. Carbles. “Okay, Ella Mentry School, let's hear your garbage poem.”

Ryan and Michael pushed me out to the middle of the stage. Everybody was staring at me. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. I had to think fast.

“Okay, give me a beat, you guys,” I said.

Michael, Ryan, Neil, and Alexia started beatboxing.
*
Everybody started bobbing their heads to the beat. I closed my eyes. And then I started rapping. . . .

       
“I think garbage is quite pretty,

       
especially piled up in the city.

       
You may think that it's a handful

       
when they take it to the landfill.

       
But garbage makes me sing and jump,

       
especially at the garbage dump.

       
“I'd like to make one small proposal,

       
while I'm here at your disposal.

       
Let's make Monday Garbage Day.

       
And Tuesday too. What do you say?

       
Wednesday, Thursday, Friday as well.

       
And Garbage Weekend would be swell.

By the end of my rap, everybody was clapping with the beat. Even the Dirk parents were into it. Dr. Carbles went
over to the microphone.

“And the winner of round three is . . . Ella Mentry School!”

“You did it, A.J.!” Miss Brown shouted.

We were all shrieking and hooting and hollering and freaking out. Now the score was 210–100. We were winning, big!

It was the greatest moment of my life.