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threw up," Barry Tuckerman announced to the other children. "Identical throw-ups. I heard the janitor telling Muriel Holloway."
    "Oh, no!" wailed Keiko.
    "Shhh," Gooney Bird said.
    "—but our hardworking custodian, Lester Furillo, has taken care of that," Mr. Leroy went on, "and with the help of some air-freshener I think we're in good shape for our final performance of the day from Mrs. Pidegon's second grade.
    "Thank you again for coming. I see someone else is just arriving. Is that another stroller?" He peered toward the back. "My goodness! So many vehicles today! Lester Furillo will help you in. There are still some seats in the back. Please make yourself comfortable." Mr. Leroy gestured toward the chairs in the back as more people entered. Then he turned to the piano and said, "Mrs. Pidgeon? It's all yours!"
    Mrs. Pidgeon smiled. She played a verse of "We Gather Together" to call the crowd to attention and create a Thanksgiving mood. Then she nodded to Gooney Bird, who was in the doorway waiting for her cue to enter.

10.

    While Mrs. Pidgeon played a rhythmic, drumming sort of music on the piano, Gooney Bird Greene danced from the door to the front of the multipurpose room. Her dance was a combination of shuffles, taps, and twirls, with an occasional pause for a hop. She was wearing fuzzy bedroom slippers, her long velvet skirt, a flowered Hawaiian shirt, and a top hat, onto which she had attached a blue feather.
    The audience applauded at her entrance.
    She ended her dance and bowed dramatically, steadying her hat with one hand.
    "I am Squanto," Gooney Bird Greene announced.
    "And these"—she gestured to the other children and they entered the room, marching, wearing their costumes of cardboard hats and headbands and belt buckles—"are Pilgrims and Native Americans.
    "They are Squanto's friends," she added.

The Pilgrims and Native Americans stood in a semicircle behind Gooney Bird. They all adjusted their headgear and then stood with their hands at their sides, wiggling their eyebrows to hold up their hats and headbands, which were already slipping forward on their foreheads.
    "Now, in honor of Thanksgiving, I am going to tell you a story," Gooney Bird said.
    Mrs. Pidgeon played a "ta-DA" chord on the piano. The audience clapped and laughed. All of them knew already, because they had been told by their children, what a good storyteller Gooney Bird Greene was. Even Barbara Greene, Gooney Bird's mom, clapped and laughed.
    From behind his headband, which had settled across his nose, Malcolm muttered, "I hope they don't clap too loud and wake up those triplets."
    Gooney Bird took a few deep breaths, adjusted her posture, and began.
I am not the actual Squanto. The real Squanto was a Patuxet Indian who was born in a village near where the Pilgrims would land, but when he was born they hadn't landed yet.
    He learned to speak English from some early settlers. He helped them in many ways. He was a very helpful guy.
    When some of them went back to England, they invited him to go along. His mother didn't want him to.
    I can understand that. My mom wouldn't want me to go off to another country. She would say I was too young. We would probably have a big argument about it.
    "Oops," Gooney Bird said. "That was an authorial intrusion. I didn't mean to do that. It's boring."
But he went anyway. This was way back in the 1600s. Squanto is dead now. I am not the real Squanto. I am an imitation.
    "Mr. Leroy?" Gooney Bird said. "Could you tell us the meaning of
imitation
, please?"
    The principal looked up and cleared his throat. "Well, ah," he said with a nervous little laugh. "It means
fake.
You are a fake Squanto."
    Gooney Bird looked behind her at the semicircle of Pilgrims and Native Americans. "Barry?" she said. Barry, pushing his headband up on his forehead, stepped forward.
    "
Imitation,
" Barry said in a loud voice. "
Something made to be as much as possible like something else.
" He bowed and stepped back. Everyone,