Read Online The BEDMAS Conspiracy by Deborah Sherman - Free Book Online Page B

might think the song was a ballad of friendship from the grade sevens and eights. If all else failed, Wilcotters for the Ethical Treatment of Poor Defenceless Animals could turn it into a song about the sensitivity of elephants. Regardless, I couldn’t get the chorus out of my head—a good sign for the upcoming spelling test.
    â€œI guess it’s useable if we work on it a bit,” I finally said grudgingly. I didn’t look at Eldrick as we took our places and began to practice our new song.

    As much as I hated to admit it, Eldrick’s song helped me stay in the band. I hummed my way through the spelling test and got a B-plus. I would have aced the test if I hadn’t mixed up dessert and desert. I proudly showed the Z’s my spelling test. Later, I found them in the back of the cafeteria, scribbling furiously. Their matching blue and mauve berets bopped up and down as they wrote. Beena waved me over when she saw me.
    â€œWe’ve got something for you,” she said.
    â€œA new song,” nodded Meena. “We call it ‘Second Helping.’”
    Beena grabbed her blue harmonica and got them in tune.
    Dessert, Dessert!
Having two can’t hurt.
You’ll dream of deuce
If it’s chocolate mousse.
You’ll always want seconds
When a piece of cherry pie beckons.
Remember that it’s two
If it’s covered in marshmallow goo…
    â€œWhat’s this all about?” I finally interrupted.
    â€œWe really want you to stay in the band,” said Meena.
    â€œSo we came up with a way for you to remember how to spell dessert. Double helpings mean double S,” continued Beena.
    I was happily surprised that the Z’s had written me a song about marshmallow glop. Spelling was becoming a breeze. Algebra was another story but, luckily, the next test wasn’t until after the District Donnybrook.

T he District Donnybrook was being held at a middle school across town. Meena and Beena’s father had rented a van so we could transport all of our gear. Daniela went over to the Z’s earlier in the day so they could help with her costume. I was the last pick-up. I entered the van and immediately sensed the nervousness.
    â€œDaniela, did you bring some tea with you?” I asked.
    She didn’t answer.
    â€œDaniela,” I repeated, “did you bring anything to help warm up your throat?”
    She still didn’t answer.
    â€œFine,” I said, giving in. “ Olaf , did you bring anything with you?”
    â€œWhen I’m Olaf, I’m Olaf,” explained Daniela to the Z’s. To me she replied, “A thermos of warm tea made from imported Scandinavian herbs—a present from Sarah Hibbit.”
    â€œCool. Sludge, you’ve got all your equipment?”
    â€œYup,” he replied.
    â€œGreat. Z’s, did you remember your lucky blue and mauve guitar picks?”
    The Z’s nodded in unison.
    â€œUh, and you, Hooperberg, do you have your, um...”
    I was trying to be a bit nicer to him because he had helped me stay in the band.
    â€œ...do you have your triangle wand?”
    â€œGot it!” said Eldrick, beaming.
    There was a huge crowd milling around Whitner Middle School when we arrived. We pushed through the crowd and headed to the gymnasium. It was just as chaotic behind the stage. Everyone was jostling to get to a mirror. Some kids were stretching. Others were holding hands and taking deep breaths. There was a mish-mash of voices, both high and low, as a few musical groups went over their songs. Ten acts were slated to compete at the District Donnybrook. We were scheduled to go ninth. Hopefully, Daniela wouldn’t get too nervous during the long wait. She was standing by the big, red curtain that kept us hidden from the audience.
    â€œWhatcha doin’, Cuz?” I asked her, trying to sound casual.
    â€œThere are a lot of people here,” she said, gesturing to the big auditorium on the other