Summer School! What Genius Thought That Up? by Henry Winkler Page B

were anyway.
    â€œPut your arms down,” Mason said, holding his nose. I tried to cover his mouth with my hands, but it was too late. McKelty had heard him.
    â€œAre you telling me what to do, shrimp?” McKelty said. Now I ask you, how much of a jerk do you have to be to say that to a little kid?
    â€œGet on with it, McKelty,” I said. “Show us your so-called talent.”
    â€œHere goes,” said McKelty. “For my act, I am going to demonstrate the manly art of Frisbee Throwing on the Beach.”
    â€œManly art, my foot,” Ashley whispered. “Give me a break.”
    â€œI will demonstrate several techniques from my award-winning style,” McKelty said.
    â€œIf this guy’s ever won an award for anything, my name is Bernice,” Frankie said.
    â€œNo, it’s not,” Mason said. “Hank says your name is Frankie.”
    McKelty took a red Frisbee out of a bowling bag he had brought to the stage with him. He took a bunch of deep breaths and tried pumping up his arms like a bodybuilder.
    â€œFor my first trick, I will do the McKelty Special Long Toss,” he said, spraying spit all the way to the first row. “Notice that not only will the Frisbee travel across the yard, it will change height three times as it travels.”
    That sounded pretty impressive. Everyone got really quiet as he prepared for the long toss.
    â€œJoelle, are you ready to assist me?” McKelty called out.
    â€œYou bet I am,” she giggled.
    McKelty picked up the Frisbee with his huge, galumphy hand. He hauled back and flung it toward Joelle with all his might. I’ll say this for McKelty. He’s big, and when he throws a Frisbee, it sails.
    Unfortunately for Joelle, it sailed right into her forehead, bonking her backward into the wading pool. She never even got her hands up to make the catch. Nope, she just plopped into the pool with a splash and a scream.
    When she came up for air, she had a whole bunch of plastic Hawaiian flowers on her head. Oh yeah, and about her leotard with the hand-painted birds of paradise all over—to put it simply, they were washed away.
    Good work, McKelty. Now that’s what I call a great trick.
    Joelle didn’t take it well. She started to pound the water with her palms, splashing everybody sitting anywhere near her.
    â€œThis is all your fault,” she sputtered at Nick the Tick.
    â€œMy fault!” he yelled back at her. “How about catching it next time?”
    Joelle hauled herself out of the pool and stormed off toward the auditorium. As she ran by us, you could hear her feet sloshing around in her sneakers.
    â€œHey, Joelle,” Ashley said as she ran by, “you might try rhinestones next time. At least they’re waterproof.”
    That pretty much put an end to McKelty’s Frisbee act. After him, a few more kids performed. Heather Payne played “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean” on the cello. Kim Paulson and Katie Sperling did a lip sync to a Beatles song. Ben Brady cracked his knuckles in time to “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” He didn’t just use his fingers. He used his toes, too. That takes talent. I was worried about him. He was going to give us some stiff competition.
    After everyone was finished, Ms. Adolf had us all come to the stage and line up. She held her hand over each contestant’s head and asked the audience to applaud for the one they thought was best. We went last, because we were the first to go on.
    And guess what? We won!
    As I looked out at all the kids applauding for us, and at Mason jumping up and down and screaming, I thought to myself, Hank, this is the greatest day of your life.
    And here’s the weird part: It happened in summer school.

About the Authors
    HENRY WINKLER is an actor, producer, and director and he speaks publicly all over the world. Holy mackerel! No wonder he needs a nap. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife, Stacey. They have three