Chapter 1

here's hank. Bookmarks. Are people too,

chapter 1 "Hank Zipzer! Please stop talking!" Ms. Flowers said to me. "Good citizens don't talk when the teacher is talking." "But I didn't say anything, Ms. Flowers." "Hank, I saw your lips moving with my own two eyes." "But no sound came out, Ms. Flowers. So, technically, I wasn't talking." "Then what exactly were you doing?" "I was sending a signal." The other kids in the class laughed, which made me feel great. I wasn't trying to be funny. But it's always nice to get a laugh. My grandfather Papa Pete always says laughter is good, but not as good as a pickle.

We're both big pickle fans. "And to whom was this so-called signal being sent?" Ms. Flowers asked. "To me!" Frankie Townsend called out. Frankie and I have been best friends since we were babies. We have a whole system of signals. "We can talk without saying a word," I told Ms. Flowers. "Oh, really?" she said. "That's very unusual." "There was this one time in the Museum of Natural History," Frankie went on. "It was amazing. Hank and I both decided to roar right in the T. rex's face—at the very same moment." "It was awesome," I added. "Until the guard told us there was no roaring allowed in the museum." I laughed, and everyone joined in. Ms. Flowers chuckled, too. She's really nice about laughing. Everyone at PS 87 wants her for second grade because she's in a good mood almost all the time. She even gave me a NICE TRY

when I only got two out of ten right on my spelling test last week. "Well, Hank, since you're so expert at roaring and signaling," she said to me, "you're going to love our next class project." "I can hardly wait to hear what it is. I'm sitting on the edge of my seat." "I can hardly wait for you to fall off!" Nick McKelty shouted from the desk behind me. Nick McKelty, better known as Nick the Tick, never has a nice word to say about anyone. But he gets away with it because he's about twelve feet tall—in every direction. "That's enough, Nick," Ms. Flowers snapped, putting her hands on her hips. But McKelty didn't seem to care that she was angry. He just went back to what he always does —rolling spitballs to launch at the little kids during recess. "Next week is Children's Reading Week," Ms. Flowers went on. "We will be celebrating by putting on a play. I wrote it myself. It's called A Night at the Library."

Katie Sperling put up her hand and waved it around. "Can I be the star?" she asked. "My daddy always tells me I am one, anyway." "Everyone will have a part," Ms. Flowers said. "Even me?" Luke Whitman asked, with his finger up his nose. "Yes, even you, Luke." I wondered if there was a part in the play for a champion nose-picker. Luke Whitman would get that for sure! "I think we all know who's going to be the star!" McKelty shouted out. "The one with the most talent. And that would be me." Then, for no reason at all, he stood up and

bowed, and let out one of his snorty laughs. No one else joined in. "I'm now going to pass out the script," Ms. Flowers said, motioning for McKelty to sit down. "Read the play over the weekend and decide on which part you'd like." I felt worried. Really worried. Regular second-grade reading is hard for me. Reading a whole script would be nearly impossible. Frankie saw my face and sent me our "don't worry" signal. I relaxed right away, because I knew he would help me. Frankie is an excellent reader. Over winter break, he read a two-hundred-page book that didn't even have pictures. "We will hold auditions on Monday," Ms.