The Last Holiday Concert by Andrew Clements

screeched, “Idiot !”
    The room exploded like a grease fire.
    The girls began chanting, “Id-i-ot! Id-i-ot! Id-i-ot!”
    â€œNuh-uh—you’re the idiots! And even if you had talent, ballet would still rot!”
    â€œId-i-ot! Id-i-ot! Id-i-ot!”
    Almost having to shout, Allison said, “Do we really want to have a card trick? As part of the concert? A card trick ?”
    â€œI’m with you,” called Ed. “Card tricks are for losers!”
    â€œSays who!” That was Carl.
    â€œSays me!”
    â€œOh, yeah?”
    â€œYeah!”
    â€œShut up!”
    â€œMake me!”
    â€œShut up!”
    â€œNo, you shut up!”
    â€œId-i-ot! Id-i-ot! Id-i-ot!”
    â€œShut up!”
    And above the snapping flames, Tim Miller was trying to get Hart’s attention. “Hart! Elvis is still in the show, right? Hey, Hart! Hart! Elvis? Elvis is okay, right? Right? Hart? Hart !”
    Hart was paralyzed. The election had been completely fair. And now this. Anything he said would only make people angrier. The noise in the room made it impossible to think.
    Hart looked over at Mr. Meinert and … he couldn’t believe it. The guy was sitting on his desk, calmly looking out at the madness in his classroom. It seemed like he didn’t have a care in the world. Hart even thought he saw a slight smile.
    Mr. Meinert turned and caught Hart’s glance. The teacher smiled and shrugged.
    Hart did not see the humor in the situation. Mr. Meinert saw that, and immediately adjusted the expression on his face.
    Hart kept looking at him. And then Hart raised his eyebrows and moved his lips, forming a silent word.
    And Mr. Meinert got the message.
    The word was, Help!

Eighteen
JUST AN IDEA
    M r. Meinert got up and walked over until he stood in front of Hart, almost bumping up against the kids sitting in the first row of folding desks. He raised one hand over his head and waited.
    Mr. Meinert doing anything was unusual these days, so everyone noticed him right away. In less than fifteen seconds all the shouting stopped and the kids settled into their desks.
    Bringing his hand down, Mr. Meinert said, “Thanks. I just wanted to ask a question. Where did the name ‘Winterhope’ come from?”
    Colleen raised her hand. Mr. Meinert pointed and she said, “From Allison. She made it up. Because when Cirque du Soleil makes a new show, they always give it a special name. So that’s what Allison did. And we all liked it and decided to call the concert Winterhope.”
    â€œBut the name itself,” said Mr. Meinert. “What does it mean? Winterhope—hope for what?”
    Allison raised her hand and said, “For peace. That’s what I was thinking. A holiday concert could be about hoping for peace. And the holidays always come in the winter. So, Winter-hope.”
    Mr. Meinert wrote P-E-A-C-E on the chalkboard in big letters. Then he stood back and pointed at it. “You know what that is? It’s a theme, one big idea. If you have a theme you can build a program around it. You’ve all had so many good ideas over these last few weeks. And voting to solve your problems? Just great. But if you want to pull a program together, you might want to think about Allison’s idea of peace. That could really help. Anybody else have a thought about this?”
    Carl raised his hand and said, “So what you’re really saying is, I can’t do my card trick, right?”
    Mr. Meinert shook his head. “I’m not saying that at all. And it’s not my concert. It’s up to all of you. I’m just asking if anyone else thinksAllison’s idea could be a theme. You’ve all come up with so many creative ideas. I hate to see any of them not get used—except that’s probably impossible. But with a theme like peace, a concert could tell a story. Maybe about the search for peace. Or about the need for peace. About the kinds of