I was filled with trepidation as I walked the long, empty corridors of the school. My destination was the principal’s office, but these hallways had never seemed so long. I put my hand over my heart to muffle the sound of its rhythm.
“THUMP, THUMP, THUMP…”
I could hear it bouncing off the walls and brightly shining tiles of the floor.
“Shhhh…” I whispered, hoping my heart would take the hint. Just then trumpets joined the beating of my heart. I jumped, tripped on my shoelace, and SPLAT, fell on my face. After picking myself up, making sure I hadn’t broken my nose, and checking out the new tear in my slacks, I sighed with relief. That wasn’t my heart beating after all. It was Professor Shneugler’s class. They’d been practicing a song for the end of the year ceremony since of beginning of the year. Each orchestra member had his or her part memorized by heart. I had tried out for the cymbals, but had managed to slam my nose between those two shiny pieces of metal one too many times. Mr Shneugler held back his temper, but let me know in no uncertain terms that there was no room for me in his world of music. My disappointment was keen, not because I had any great aspirations of becoming the world’s next famous cymbal player, but because Cynthia Smith was the lead violinist, and I would have done anything to be near her. Even getting my nosed slammed between two sharp pieces of metal seemed worth it. But it was not to be. As it was, Mr. Sneugler begged me to stay away from his classroom. Of course, that was after I had tripped over a drummer’s stick. So technically, what happened next was the fault of the drummer who was careless enough to misplace his stick. But no matter whose fault it was, I tripped over the drummer’s stick into the drummers set. After I untangled myself there, I fell into the orchestra pit right onto Cynthia Smith. That day was one of the worst days of my life and the best days of my life. Cynthia spoke to me!
“Get off of me!” she shrieked. And I did. Only to run into the piano, which for someone’s convenience (but certainly not mine) was on wheels. I hit it with enough force that it and I began to roll rapidly across the floor right into the brass section of the orchestra. It was actually quite a masterpiece of confusion, my specialty. There I was sprawled on top of a rolling piano, which was picking up speed as it rolled through the brass section of the orchestra. Shrieking band members leaped our to my way, each holding on to their instrument as though it was a child in danger. Professor Shneugler stood behind his desk, sputtering and blinking through his bifocals. When the finally came to a halt… “BANG – ching”… against the opposite wall, my handiwork was something to behold. M. Shneugler continued sputtering before his eyes turned to focus directly on me.
“Young man! Ged oud uv my clazz!”
“But, sir!” I said, trying to explain and apologize at the same time.”
“No. Do nod speak. Ged oud uv my clazz!”
It probably would have been a humorous sight if I hadn’t been the one who had caused all of the trouble. All the band members were cowering in corners as I made my way to the door.
“I really am sorry. If you want I can help…”
“NO! Leab my clazz!!!”
So I left. I could hear the sigh of relief as I shut the door. Funny, that’s the same sigh I heard when I was called out of Biology class to go to the principal’s office. I couldn’t see the connection. It wasn’t as though I had knocked anything over or blown anything up… yet… today…
I suppose it’s about time I introduced myself. My name is Herbert. Herbert Young. I’m 13 years old and I’m in the 7th grade. You know how everyone is usually labled in school? Every highschool has their jocks and their preps, and their nerds. You may not have guessed yet but at Franklin High I’m considered a topnotch nerd. Hey, everybody’s good at something. My specialty just happens to be studying and destroying things.
My dream is to invent something in high school that will let the world know that there really is a brain connected to my large hands and feet. You may be asking how someone who can’t even bang two pieces of metal together without getting his nose tangled up in between them thinks that he’ll ever be good at anything. Well, I’d be the first to admit that I’m a clutz, not quite world famous yet, but working on it.
As far as looks go, I’m fairly average height, but my feet and hands must be on steroids. They’re too big for my body and usually send me flying down stairs or dumping my lunch into some unsuspecting and innocent bystanders lap. I like to think of myself as an undercover superhero… in a scientific sort of way. You see, my inventions always seem to work when I’m alone, but something always seems to happen when I try to show them to people. I’d give you examples, but I think you’ll understand if you stick around. Just don’t stand too close. Back up a little. A little more. Okay, you should be safe from there, but I’d check my insurance coverage first if I were you.