Wayside School Beneath the Cloud of Doom (Wayside School #4) - Louis Sachar Page 0,2
D.J. was talking about. She just liked to argue. No matter what D.J. said, she always said the opposite.
“Up!” D.J. said again.
“Down!” Kathy instantly replied.
“Shh!” said Dana, who sat behind Kathy. “I’m trying to read.”
Kathy turned around. Dana’s face was streaked with tears.
“Why are you crying?” asked Kathy.
Dana showed her the book she’d been reading. The Lost Giraffe.
“So?” asked Kathy.
“The giraffe is lost,” Dana sobbed.
“Well, what did you expect, stupid?” asked Kathy.
She didn’t like Dana any more than she liked D.J.
“Up!” said D.J.
“Down!” snapped Kathy.
“Dana, Kathy, D.J.,” said Mrs. Jewls. “You are making a lot of noise for silent reading.”
“Sorry,” said D.J. “I can’t—up!—help it. I have the—up!—hiccups.”
Kathy turned red. She had been arguing with a hiccup.
“Has this ever happened before?” Mrs. Jewls asked him.
“I’ve had the—up!—hiccups before,” said D.J., “but they—up!—always went—up!—away.”
“Stand on your head and drink a glass of water,” Myron suggested.
“Eat a lemon,” said Jenny.
“Hold your tongue while you say the Pledge of Allegiance,” said Joy.
D.J. tried their suggestions. When he finished, his mouth was puckered, his shirt was wet, and he still had the hiccups.
He felt very patriotic, however.
“I think you better go see Dr. Pickle,” said Mrs. Jewls. “Kathy will take you.”
Kathy hopped out of her seat, glad she wouldn’t have to read. “C’mon, dummy,” she said, and led D.J. out the door.
“Up!” hiccuped D.J.
“Down!” said Kathy.
She couldn’t help herself.
Dr. Pickle’s real name was Dr. Pickell. His office was on the fourth floor. Kathy knocked on the door.
Dr. Pickle opened it. He had a pointy beard and wore glasses. “Yes?” he said.
“Stupid here got the hiccups,” said Kathy.
“Up!” hiccuped D.J.
“Down,” said Kathy.
Dr. Pickle rubbed his chin. “Very interesting,” he muttered, although he was looking at Kathy, not at D.J. “Very, very interesting.”
He told Kathy to wait, and invited D.J. inside.
“And he smiles too much too!” Kathy called, just before the door shut.
D.J. sat down on a couch.
Dr. Pickle sat across from him. He held a long gold chain. On one end hung a green stone shaped like a pickle.
Dr. Pickle gently swung the stone, back and forth. “Watch the pickle,” he said. His voice was warm and soothing.
D.J.’s eyes moved back and forth with the stone.
“I will count to five. And then you will fall into a deep, deep sleep.” Dr. Pickle slowly counted. “One . . . two . . . BOO!”
D.J. fell off the couch.
“Well?” asked Dr. Pickle.
D.J. got up. He waited a moment. “I think they’re gone,” he said.
Dr. Pickle led him to the door. “First thing we learned in psychiatrist school,” he said, patting D.J. on the head.
“My hiccups are all gone!” D.J. told Kathy.
“Who cares,” said Kathy.
“Wait,” said Dr. Pickle. “Would you mind stepping inside my office, young lady?”
“Me?” asked Kathy.
“Please,” said Dr. Pickle.
“But he’s the sicko!” said Kathy, pointing at D.J.
“Please,” Dr. Pickle repeated.
Kathy shrugged, then entered the counselor’s office. “That beard is really ugly,” she said. “I guess your face must be even worse, huh?”
D.J. sat on the floor in the hallway, with his back against the wall, waiting for Kathy. He smiled, happy that his hiccups were gone. Although he missed them a little bit too. Hiccups are annoying, but kind of fun.
Some time later, the counselor’s door opened.
“Thank you, Dr. Pickell,” said Kathy, calling him by his proper name. “You are very wise. And I like your beard.”
“That’s very nice of you to say, Kathy,” said the school counselor.
She stepped out the door. “Hi, D.J.,” she greeted him. “Thanks for waiting. You’re a good friend.”
The smile left D.J.’s face. Something was definitely wrong with Kathy.
“Let’s go up,” said D.J.
“Yes, up,” Kathy agreed.
Now he was really worried.
4
Consider the Paper Clip
Read a book. Write a book report. Draw a picture.
That was the assignment Mrs. Jewls put up on the board.
Dana’s picture showed a giraffe studying a map. She had drawn a large question mark over the giraffe’s head.
Her book report only had to be one page, but she had written two whole pages. The Lost Giraffe was her favorite book ever!
Now all she needed was a paper clip.
She searched her desk.
She found quite a few pencils, mostly broken. There were lots of eraser bits and crayon nubs. There was also a crumb-covered pink piece of paper that had come off the bottom of a cupcake.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she moaned as she continued to search.
She raised her hand.
“Yes, Dana,” said Mrs. Jewls.
“I need a new paper clip.”
“But I gave you one at the beginning of the year,” said Mrs. Jewls.
“I know, Mrs. Jewls. I’m sorry. I