Read The Last Holiday Concert for Free Online

do?”
    â€œI don’t know. I guess just sit here.”
    â€œIs he serious?”
    â€œI … I think so.”
    â€œHe said we can do anything we want. So can we?”
    â€œI don’t know. Now be quiet!”
    It got quiet again, but silent children are like a rising river. Sooner or later the water spills over the banks.
    More whispers. They grew louder, and then came the low talking.
    Still Mr. Meinert sat and read his magazine. He wanted to leap from his chair. The urge to take charge of his classroom was almost overpowering. But he forced himself to sit and read.
    As the low talking spread, a few kids kept saying, “Shhh … SHHHH,” but the shushing couldn’t hold back the flow.
    Then, on the other side of the room, someone must have said something funny. Two kids started laughing, and the flood broke loose.
    The noise level in the room rose so fast it took Mr. Meinert’s breath away. And as more kids talked and laughed, others had to talk stilllouder and louder in order to be heard above the rising clamor. For a moment Mr. Meinert was sure that the whole sixth grade was packed into the room. He wanted to spin his chair around and give the kids his most withering stare, but he made himself sit still, made himself keep reading.
    After three minutes the noise was deafening. The room wasn’t out of control, but it was close. Three or four guys had started playing baseball, with some wadded up paper for a ball and a music book for a bat. A cell phone tweedled, and a girl on one side of the room pulled it out of her purse, jammed it to her ear, and then spun around and waved at her friend who had called from thirty feet away. A few groups of kids had gone back to the windows to watch the snow come down. Four girls sat on the floor and began playing Rock, Paper, Scissors—dangerously close to the three guys kicking a Hacky Sack. Everyone else was just milling around, talking and laughing.
    Hart hadn’t budged from his chair. His desk was like his lifeboat, a safe place to watch from. Only four other kids besides Hart werestill sitting at their desks. Two of them had begun doing homework, and the other two kids—Colleen and Ross—were arguing. Colleen Hester was almost yelling at Ross Eastman, and he was shaking his head and making a face back at her. Hart didn’t care much for either of them, especially Colleen. Too bossy. As Hart watched, Colleen and Ross stood up and walked down front to Mr. Meinert’s desk.
    It was too loud to hear anything, but Hart saw Colleen say something to Mr. Meinert. He looked up at Colleen, and also at Ross, and then Mr. Meinert smiled and nodded and shrugged his shoulders all at the same time. He turned back to his magazine.
    Colleen tugged on Ross’s shirt and pulled him with her until they stood next to the electric piano at the front of the room.
    â€œHey everybody!” Colleen yelled. “Hey, listen. Please, everybody—listen—QUIET!”
    The room calmed down a little, and Colleen said, “Ross and I want to say something, okay? We just talked to Mr. Meinert, and he said if we wanted, we could be in charge of the concert. So we want to get started now, okay?”
    Janie Kingston didn’t care much for Colleen either. She stood up and said, “I don’t think that’s fair. How come you should be in charge? Just because you talked to Mr. Meinert first?”
    And then Tim Miller climbed up on the seat of his desk and made a goofy face and said, “Hey, maybe I should be in charge—what d’ya think, guys?” And four of Tim’s friends started chanting, “WE WANT TIM! WE WANT TIM!”
    Ross raised his hands and shouted, “Guys, shut up! C’mon, shut up!”
    Tim yelled back, “No, you shut up!” and for fifteen seconds about forty kids yelled “Shut up!” at one another.
    The shouting burned out, and when it got a little quieter, Ross said,