everyone else, you went along with the rules. And you voted too, right?â
Hart gulped. âWell, yeah ⦠sure, I voted. But I didnât want to get elected.â Hart pointedtoward Colleen and Ross. âOne of them ought to do it. Theyâre the ones who want to.â
Mr. Meinert shrugged. âToo late. They werenât elected. You were, and thatâs that.â He pulled his chair away from the table where the ballots were and began pushing it back toward his desk. âSo have a very nice concert.â Mr. Meinert sat down, opened his magazine, and began to read again.
Hart didnât know what to do. All the kids were looking at him. He felt embarrassed.
Colleen hurried over and stood in front of him. âWhat do you want us to do first? You heard Mr. Meinert. We only have twenty-three days. We have to get started.â
Hart looked up at her. Colleen put her hands on her hips and said, âWell? What should we do?â
Hart said, âYou know that song âIâm a Little Teapotâ? How about you walk down to the front of the room and sing that song for everybody. That would be a good start.â
Hartâs wisecrack got a pretty big laugh, and around the room kids started whispering and talking.
Colleen made a pinched face at him. âYou think youâre so funny. Reallyâwhat are you going to do? We have to get started.â
Hart ignored Colleen and stood up. Waiting for the room to get quiet, Hart thought, If Mr. Meinert wants to be all tough and make me do this, then I can play games too .
Hart said, âOkay, listen everybody. As the new chorus director, I declare that this is a free period. And tomorrow will be a free period too. Chorus is now a free period.â And then Hart sat down.
A spontaneous cheer filled the room. âYaaay!â âWoo-woo!â â Awe some! This is great!â âYeahâcool!â
Still standing there in front of Hart with her hands on her hips, Colleen said, âYou are so immature!â She turned and stomped back to her desk.
In less than a minute the room was as loud as it had been before the election.
Reading at his desk with his ears wide open, once again it took all Mr. Meinertâs will power to keep himself from leaping to his feet. He wanted to sweep his eyes across the crowd. Hewanted to shout, Silence! and snap the room to order. But he thought, No, Iâm not going to explode. Iâm not going to rant and rave and look like an angry fool again. Iâll wait. Iâll wait until the noise and the disorder and the confusion overpowers them. A free periodâhah! Nobody can stand chaos for long, not even sixth graders. It might take a day or two, but theyâll all get sick of it. Hart and his fan club, they think chorus is a big joke? Well, the jokeâs on them!
By the time these thoughts had run through his mind, Mr. Meinert was trying to keep from smiling, and what he really wanted to do was laugh out loud. Hart Evans, the Rubber BanditâHart was now in charge of the chorus, in charge of the big concert! It was too perfect.
Mr. Meinert knew he was being petty and childish. He knew he was being unprofessional. But at that moment he didnât care. Mr. Meinert was planning to enjoy himself. Soon would come the part where Hart and everyone else would be pleading, begging him to take charge of the chorus and organize the concert. And after they had groveled and whined longenough, he would slowly let himself be talked into it. It was going to be so much fun .
There was only one small problem with this analysis: Mr. Meinert did not know Hart Evans as well as he thought he did.
In fact, none of them knew Hart Evans as well as they thought they didâincluding Hart Evans himself.
Nine
DETENTION
P almer Intermediate, Mrs. Hood speaking. Will you please hold a moment?â
It was a little before three oâclock. The hallways had gotten quiet, but the office was