Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11 If you've never been in a traffic jam in New York City, let me tell you this: It's really loud. Everybody honks their horn at the same time, hoping that the car in front of them will move. But it never does, because it has no place to go, either. We spent fifteen minutes listening to everyone honking at the cement mixer. Papa Pete doesn't believe in honking, but he does believe in shouting. He stuck half his body out the window, trying to explain our situation. "Hey, buddy," he called out to the driver. "I've got hungry teachers waiting. You've got to get a move on." "I'm trying, Pops," the driver said. "Just got to back this buggy up a few more inches so I

can make the turn. Oh, and say hi to the teachers for me. My wife is a teacher." By the time we got to PS 87, it was seventeen minutes after four o'clock. I knew that from reading the digital clock on the dashboard in Papa Pete's van. I still can't read a regular clock very well. If you ask me, the little hand isn't so little, and the big hand isn't so big. In other words, they both look the same to me. The Teacher Appreciation Dinner was in the multipurpose room. It's a really good thing it's on the first floor so we didn't have to go up any steps. We were all carrying a lot of stuff. My job was to carry the bowl of potato salad. Ashley had the coleslaw, and Frankie got the easy job of taking the ketchup and mustard bowls. Papa Pete carried the meat platter and Carlos took the cheese platter. "You lead the way, Hankie," Papa Pete said. "We're right behind you."

We passed Principal Love's office, the nurse's office, and the bulletin board with the kindergarten class's self-portraits. They all looked like they had arms growing out of their ears. I wanted to laugh, but I stopped myself because I didn't want to take any chances on dropping the potato salad. When we got to the end of the hall, I saw that the doors to the multipurpose room were open. There were lots of teachers inside, sitting on both sides of a long table. They were drinking fruit punch. At one end of the table

there were plates all stacked up, looking empty and lonely. As usual, Principal Love was talking, probably giving one of his long, long speeches. I noticed a few of the teachers were yawning, which is what I always do when he talks. "Dinner has arrived," Papa Pete shouted out. "We're here to tickle your taste buds." "Well, bring it in, folks," Principal Love said. "As I always say, put good food and an empty plate together and you get a plateful of good food." No one ever understands what Principal Love says or why he says it, but the teachers were too hungry to care. When they saw us

coming in with all the platters, they burst into applause. It felt great to make them so happy. I looked around the room and saw Ms. Flowers applauding the loudest. She gave me that big Ms. Flowers smile that makes you feel so good. Then she waved. "Hi, Hank," she called out. "Hi, Frankie and Ashley." "Hi, Ms. Flowers," I called back. I should have stopped right there, but I didn't. I took my hand off the bowl of potato salad and waved back at her. Hank, WHAT were you thinking? The bowl of potato salad slipped out of my arms. I tried to catch it in midair to keep it from falling. But that didn't work. In fact, just the opposite happened. My hands hit it like a volleyball, and it sailed even higher into the

air. We learned in our science unit that whatever goes up, must come down. And I'm here to say, that goes double for potato salad!