Miss Small Is off the Wall! by Dan Gutman

2
Smarty-pants and Dumbhead
    â€œYippee!” I shouted.
    â€œHooray!” shouted my friends Ryan and Michael. We all whooped and hollered and high-fived each other. Finally we could go to Fizz Ed and leave all that reading and writing and arithmetic behind for a change. Miss Daisy gave each of us aname tag so Miss Small, the Fizz Ed teacher, would know who we were.
    â€œWhat’s Fizz Ed?” asked this girl who has red hair named Emily (well, actually the girl is named Emily, not her hair). “Are we going to learn about soda pop?”
    Me and Ryan and Michael slapped our own heads. We couldn’t believe it. Thatwas like the stupidest thing anybody ever said in the history of the world.

    â€œFizz Ed is gym class, dumbhead!” I told Emily. “Everybody knows that.”
    Emily looked all upset like she was going to start crying. That girl cries at any old thing.
    â€œA.J.!” Miss Daisy said with her mean face. “Hold your tongue!”
    â€œOkay.”
    So I stuck out my tongue and held onto it. Everybody laughed. Well, everybody but Emily and Miss Daisy.

    The whole class lined up in size order so Miss Daisy could walk us over to the gym, which is all the way at the other end of the school. Ryan was the line leader.
    â€œI bet Miss Small will let us play football and baseball and hockey and dodgeball,” Michael whispered to me as we walked. Michael and Ryan are really good at sports. They’re the best athletes in the second grade.
    â€œSports are cool,” I said.
    â€œExcept for curling,” said Michael. “That’s just dumb.”
    â€œThat’s not even a sport,” I said. “Curling is what girls do to their hair.”
    This girl with curly brown hair namedAndrea Young must have heard me, because she laughed even though I didn’t say anything funny.
    â€œCurling is too a sport,” she said. “I saw it in a book about the Olympics. They take this big rock and slide it down the ice while somebody sweeps the ice in front of it with a broom.”
    Andrea thinks she is so smart. She probably goes home after school and reads the dictionary for fun. That way she can brag about how much she knows.
    â€œYou don’t know anything about sports,” I told Andrea.
    â€œDo too,” Andrea said back at me. “Itake a dance class every day after school. I’m learning ballet, jazz, tap, hip-hop, and clog dancing.”
    Andrea is one of those kids who takes lessons in everything. All she has to do is sneeze and her mother probably signs her up for sneezing lessons.
    â€œDancing is not a sport,” I said. “Dancing is dumb.”
    â€œA little less chitchatting in the hall, please,” said Miss Daisy as we walked to the gym.
    â€œDo we really have to go to Fizz Ed, Miss Daisy?” asked Andrea. “Isn’t it more important for us to learn reading, writing, and arithmetic?”
    â€œStrong mind, strong body,” said Miss Daisy.
    Ha-ha-ha! Smarty-pants Andrea Young was gonna to have to do something she didn’t like for a change. She wouldn’t be the best in the class for a change. Welcome to my world, Andrea!
    I couldn’t wait to beat Andrea at basketball. Beat her at baseball. Beat her at football. This was going to be the greatest day in my life!
    Andrea Young probably doesn’t even know the difference between a football and a footprint.
    Finally, after walking about a hundred miles, we reached the gym. It’s this giant room with a basketball hoop at each end.
    â€œMiss Small?” called Miss Daisy. “Are you here?”
    Nobody answered, but there was an echo in the gym so we could hear Miss Daisy’s words over and over again when they bounced off the walls.
    â€œMiss Small?…Miss Small?…Miss Small?…Miss Small?…Are you here?…Are you here?…Are you here?”
    It was cool.
    â€œHello!” I yelled.
    The gym yelled back,