5. Artlo

5 Artlo I thought Professor Armpit had to be joking. I didn't make any art. All I did was tape a tube of paint to the wall. And he fell for it. What a scam. "YES! YES! YES!" Professor Armpit shouted. "This young man is a genius!"

I looked over at Andrea. She had on her

mean face, and her arms were folded in front of her. Anytime somebody folds their arms in front of them, it means they're mad. Nobody knows why. I stuck my tongue out at Andrea. "Well, yes," said Ms. Hannah, "all of our students at Ella Mentry School are creative. I work very hard every day to encourage them to—" "He is brilliant!" interrupted Professor Armpit. "This is a masterpiece that combines the elements of post-modernist blah blah blah blah with new wave expressionism blah blah blah blah..." He went on and on about my fake art. Professor Armpit was so excited. I thought he was gonna faint. "All he did was tape a tube of paint to the wall!" shouted Andrea. Boy, was she mad! It was the greatest moment of my life. This was the next best thing to watching an elephant fall on Andrea's head.

"What's the big deal?" asked Alexia. "Any of us could have done that." "But none of you did!" said Professor Armpit. "Don't you see? The tube of paint is symbolic of the future blah blah blah blah, and the tape symbolizes the shackles we have that prevent humanity from achieving our dreams of a perfect future blah blah blah blah." "Yeah," I added. "What he said." "Do you like my flowers?" asked Andrea. But Professor Armpit just ignored her. He couldn't take his eyes off the paint tube I taped to the wall. "I have not been this excited about a new young artist since Keith Haring came on the scene," said Professor Armpit. I had no idea who that guy was. "You are going to be the next big thing!" he continued. "The next Van Gogh! The next Rembrandt! The next Picasso!"

"Who are they?" asked Neil. "I think they used to play for the Lakers," I told him. Andrea was really mad. "It's not fair!" she said, stomping her foot on the floor. "Arlo isn't an artist! He's never even heard of Picasso!" Professor Armpit stuck his face near mine. "Your name is Arlo?" he asked. "Yeah," I admitted. The only person who calls me Arlo is Andrea, because she knows I don't like it.

"From now on," Professor Armpit said, "the world will know you as... Artlo!" "Artlo?" I asked. "Yes, the great artists of history were known by one name—Michelangelo, Leonardo, Raphael..."* Professor Armpit couldn't stop raving about my dumb artwork. "I've been waiting my entire life to discover the next genius," he said. "And here I have discovered Artlo, in the least likely place." "You can call me A.J.," I told him. "It's funny, Artlo," said Professor Armpit. "Sometimes we can spend our lives searching for something, and the whole time it was right under our nose." What was he talking about? Right under my nose is my mouth. Professor Armpit grabbed my hands. "Artlo, allow me to touch the hands that created this masterpiece," he said. "Let me touch the brain that could think