Read Online The Worst Class Trip Ever by Dave Barry - Free Book Online
Authors: Dave Barry
Tags: Humor, Humorous, Literature & Fiction, Children's Books, Action & Adventure, Children's eBooks, school, Growing Up & Facts of Life, Friendship; Social Skills & School Life
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yelling at me to wake up or I was going to miss breakfast. He and Victor were already
heading out the door. I got dressed and ran downstairs to the dining room and got on the end of the line for the buffet, which featured scrambled eggs from like 1950.
I wasn’t hungry anyway. I sat at table with Victor and Cameron and pretended to eat, but mainly I snuck peeks over at Suzana in the Hot/Popular area. She was wearing the Miami Heat
parachute sack. I caught her eye once, and she winked at me. Then she went back to being hot and popular. She looked totally amazing, not tired or stressed at all, like ho-hum, just another normal
day on the class trip instead of a day when we had to try to get our friend back from two weird kidnapper guys who for all we know were trying to blow up the White House.
Our first problem was getting through the head count. They counted us whenever we got on the bus to make sure we were all there. If they noticed that Matt was gone, they’d want to know
where he was, and we’d have a big problem, because if we told them what happened, they’d call the police, which was exactly what we wanted to avoid.
The good news was, the head count was usually done by Mr. Barto, who is not the world’s most organized person, which is why we thought our plan (which was really Suzana’s plan) might
work. What we did was, when we got on the bus, Cameron and I sat together in the fifth seat on the left side, and Suzana sat in the fifth seat on the right, across from us. Victor sat alone a few
rows back. So Mr. Barto came down the aisle counting heads. He counted me and Cameron, then turned and counted Suzana. Which was when she went into action.
“Mr. Barto,” she said, making her eyes all big and helpless, “can you help me? I can’t get the window open.”
“Sure,” he said, all manly. She got up and he got into the seat and opened the window, which of course Suzana could have done. While Mr. Barto’s back was turned Cameron slipped
out of our seat and went back to sit with Victor. Mr. Barto stood back up and Suzana thanked him and flashed him a big Suzana smile. He said you’re welcome, then went back to counting heads,
which meant that he counted Cameron’s head twice.
So far, so good.
Our bus parked in a long line of buses near the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History, which is a giant stone building near a bunch of other giant stone buildings, which seems to be the
main kind of buildings they have in Washington. It was a longish walk to the front entrance, and the weather was already hot, so we were pretty sweaty by the time we got inside. It was a little
after nine a.m., which meant we had less than an hour to escape from the class trip and get to the Boy Scout statue.
The museum was pretty cool, I guess. It was huge inside, and there were life-size models of big animals, like an elephant and a whale, and some dinosaur skeletons. But I was too nervous to pay
attention to the exhibits. I was keeping an eye on Suzana, who was slowly drifting back farther and farther from the front of the group, pretending to be fascinated by museum stuff we were passing.
I drifted back with her, followed by Victor and Cameron, until we formed a little group in the back, falling farther and farther behind until we were the tail end of the class.
I looked at my phone: It was nine twenty-one. We had thirty-nine minutes to get to the statue. Up ahead, the front of the group was going around a corner into a hallway.
“Get ready,” said Suzana.
We slowed down, then stopped just before the corner. When the group was out of sight, we turned around and started walking fast toward the exit. In two minutes we were walking out the entrance
back into the heat.
“Which way?” said Cameron.
Victor had his phone out, looking at a map. “This way,” he said, pointing right. We all started running. I glanced at my phone: it said
9:24
. We weren’t going to have
much time.
Of course Suzana was
heading out the door. I got dressed and ran downstairs to the dining room and got on the end of the line for the buffet, which featured scrambled eggs from like 1950.
I wasn’t hungry anyway. I sat at table with Victor and Cameron and pretended to eat, but mainly I snuck peeks over at Suzana in the Hot/Popular area. She was wearing the Miami Heat
parachute sack. I caught her eye once, and she winked at me. Then she went back to being hot and popular. She looked totally amazing, not tired or stressed at all, like ho-hum, just another normal
day on the class trip instead of a day when we had to try to get our friend back from two weird kidnapper guys who for all we know were trying to blow up the White House.
Our first problem was getting through the head count. They counted us whenever we got on the bus to make sure we were all there. If they noticed that Matt was gone, they’d want to know
where he was, and we’d have a big problem, because if we told them what happened, they’d call the police, which was exactly what we wanted to avoid.
The good news was, the head count was usually done by Mr. Barto, who is not the world’s most organized person, which is why we thought our plan (which was really Suzana’s plan) might
work. What we did was, when we got on the bus, Cameron and I sat together in the fifth seat on the left side, and Suzana sat in the fifth seat on the right, across from us. Victor sat alone a few
rows back. So Mr. Barto came down the aisle counting heads. He counted me and Cameron, then turned and counted Suzana. Which was when she went into action.
“Mr. Barto,” she said, making her eyes all big and helpless, “can you help me? I can’t get the window open.”
“Sure,” he said, all manly. She got up and he got into the seat and opened the window, which of course Suzana could have done. While Mr. Barto’s back was turned Cameron slipped
out of our seat and went back to sit with Victor. Mr. Barto stood back up and Suzana thanked him and flashed him a big Suzana smile. He said you’re welcome, then went back to counting heads,
which meant that he counted Cameron’s head twice.
So far, so good.
Our bus parked in a long line of buses near the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History, which is a giant stone building near a bunch of other giant stone buildings, which seems to be the
main kind of buildings they have in Washington. It was a longish walk to the front entrance, and the weather was already hot, so we were pretty sweaty by the time we got inside. It was a little
after nine a.m., which meant we had less than an hour to escape from the class trip and get to the Boy Scout statue.
The museum was pretty cool, I guess. It was huge inside, and there were life-size models of big animals, like an elephant and a whale, and some dinosaur skeletons. But I was too nervous to pay
attention to the exhibits. I was keeping an eye on Suzana, who was slowly drifting back farther and farther from the front of the group, pretending to be fascinated by museum stuff we were passing.
I drifted back with her, followed by Victor and Cameron, until we formed a little group in the back, falling farther and farther behind until we were the tail end of the class.
I looked at my phone: It was nine twenty-one. We had thirty-nine minutes to get to the statue. Up ahead, the front of the group was going around a corner into a hallway.
“Get ready,” said Suzana.
We slowed down, then stopped just before the corner. When the group was out of sight, we turned around and started walking fast toward the exit. In two minutes we were walking out the entrance
back into the heat.
“Which way?” said Cameron.
Victor had his phone out, looking at a map. “This way,” he said, pointing right. We all started running. I glanced at my phone: it said
9:24
. We weren’t going to have
much time.
Of course Suzana was
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