David Lubar - Kid Appeal

BY DAVID LUBAR

D wight Howtzler is an idiot. Hes also my best friend. Brains arent all that important most of the time, and theyre definitely not the first thing I look for when I pick my friends. For example, Zeke Walther, that motormouth show-off, is super smart, but Id never want to hang out with him.

There are lots of other things that make someone a great best friend, like loyalty and courage. Dwights totally loyal. Hed never tell on me, no matter what I did. Even though he got six weeks of detention, Dwight never admitted he had help when he dumped twenty packs of cherry Kool-Aid into the schools new fishpond. I swear we thought there werent any fish in it yet. I guess its a good thing only two of them were hiding in there at the time. They looked real pretty right before they turned belly up. It was sort of like a Dr. Seuss story. One fish, two fish. Red fish, dead fish.

And to this day, nobody who could punish me for it has a clue I was with Dwight when we snuck into the principals office and replaced the regular CD of the National Anthem with one where the whole song was burped. At least he got only one week of detention for that.

As for courage, I know Dwight would stand right next to me if I got attacked by a band of ninjas or a pack of zombies. If I got bitten by a snake, Id bet hed even suck out the poison. As long as I got bitten on the leg or arm. If I got bitten on the butt, Id understand if he let me die.

So being smart isnt important most of the time. But its sort of helpful when youre entering a contest. And it looked like wed be doing that. You see, right before the last bell, our teacher, Ms. Flayer, handed out a bunch of papers, like she does every Friday. It was the usual stuff: a bake sale, eye exams, a book fair, something about a sewage leak in the cafeteria. Nothing important.

When she got back to her desk, she waved a sheet of yellow paper at us. I hope some of you will consider entering this contest.

Contest? I loved winning stuff. I shuffled through the papers and found the yellow one. I got as far as the first line: CELEBRATE THE HISTORY OF NEW CAIRO.

I stopped right there. Id rather celebrate the fact that my gum lasted for three hours this morning. Our teachers had been jamming the towns history down our throats since way back in first grade. After five years of that, New Cairos past was the last thing I wanted to celebrate.

I guess Dwight read the whole paper, because he grabbed my arm as soon as we got into the hall and said, We are so doing this, Charlie. Its going to be awesome.

Doing what? I pulled my arm free, which wasnt easy since Dwight is one of the biggest kids in our class.

Look at this! He shoved the paper in my face and pointed at the next line. W IN BIG PRIZES !!!!!

Okaythat caught my attention. But I knew big prizes meant different things to adults than it did to kids. Grown-ups actually seemed to think a kid would get all excited about a savings bond or a dictionary. Anything thats going to get my heart racing needs to say stuff like radio controlled and Wi-Fi enabled.

But I guess, once in a while, an adult gets it right. According to the flyer, first prize was a trip for two to the grand opening of Splashtastic Park. Id heard it had fifteen water slides and a gigantic saltwater wave pool, all inside a dome. That would be a perfect way to start summer vacation, which was only two weeks away. Id been dying to go there ever since Id seen the ads, but my parents said it was too expensive.

Suddenly, the history of New Cairo sounded a lot more interesting. I read the rest of the flyer. It turned out the New Cairo Chamber of Commercewhatever that waswas sponsoring the contest to help celebrate the 150th anniversary of the towns founding.

We have a week, I said after I read the rules. The projects had to be brought to school next Friday and set up in the auditorium. The whole school would have an assembly at the end of the day to watch the judging.

Thats tons of time, Dwight said. I do most of my projects the day before theyre due. Or even that morning. And Ive never gotten lower than a C minus. Except once or twice.

I think, if were gonna do it, we better give it a bit more time than just one day.

If? Dwight asked.

Ive got a ton of math and reading to slog through. I glanced back at our classroom door. Ms. Flayer seemed to think that homework kept kids from getting into trouble. If that was true, I never would have tried to make grilled cheese sandwiches for me and Dwight using his moms iron or jump my bicycle from the garage roof to the porch last week. I was still picking scabs off my knee from the crash. But thats okayI sort of like picking scabs.

We have to do it, Dwight said. Its our only chance to get to the Splashtastic Park grand opening. Ive heard its going to be awesome.

I dont know.

Thats when a high-pitched laugh shattered my thoughts. It sounded like someone was tickling a gigantic baby with a pitchfork.

You guys are going to enter? Zeke Walther, whod slithered up behind us, cackled again, then said, Forget it. Unless they add a nice last-place prize. Theres no way you losers have a chance. Not against me. Im full of smarts. Youre just full of farts. He smirked and walked off.

I turned to Dwight, held up my hand, and said, Lets do it.

He smacked my palm. Well show him who the loser is. I can already feel myself floating in that wave pool. He closed his eyes and swayed from side to side like he was up to his neck in the water. Then he farted.

Dwight! Knock it off.

Sorry, he said. I like making bubbles.

Youre not in a real pool, I said.

Good point.

I reminded myself not to get too close to him once we hit the water. And we were definitely hitting that water. Somehow, some way, my idiot friend and I were going to win first prize. Whatever we did, I had a feeling Id be doing all of the thinking and most of the work. That didnt stop Dwight from spitting out a stream of ideas as we walked to my place.

We could bring in cookies, he said. I could get my mom to bake them. Everyone loves her cookies.

Its supposed to be about something from the history of the town, I said. Cookies dont count.

What if she makes them now and we let them get stale? Then theyd be historic. And she lives here, so theyd be from the town. He grinned at me. Wow. I thought this would be harder.

It still wont count, I said. Even if it did, we need to come up with something way better than cookies.

Oh. Dwight sighed, stared at the ground for a moment, then let out a whoop and clapped his hands together. I got it! This is perfect! Well make one of those diarrhea things.

What are you talking about? My brain wrestled with itself, trying to think up any possible connection between stomach cramps and history.

You know, a shoebox diarrhea, Dwight said. Where you cut out stuff, color it, and glue it in the box.

Thats a diorama, I said. Not a diarrhea. Now my brain was wrestling with the image of Dwight carrying a sloshing shoebox to school. Luckily my imagination was nice enough to make sure the box had a lid on it.

Diorama? he asked. You sure?

Yup. Im positive.

Shoot. I guess that explains why Mrs. Esheritchia kept laughing at me last year when I turned in my project and told her it was the best diarrhea Id ever made. Dwight stared at the ground for another minute as we walked. So, anyhow, you think we should make one of those?