Arnie's Prize-Winning Prank

By Claire W. Horowitz

On the worst day of his life, sixth-grader Arnie Waxman ends up hanging from the school wall by his underwear. When his attempt to climb the lunch-losing heights of The Wall of Doom is an epic fail, he hits bottom (literally). He is branded with an inescapable nickname, and no one will let him forget the “Tighty-whitey Incident.”
In an attempt to restore his reputation, Arnie wins The Bill Gates Golden Achievement Award, and gets free ice cream for the entire sixth grade. Which is great, except for the fact that Arnie made up the award. Winning a fake prize turns out to be more complicated than Arnie realizes. His teachers actually expect award-winning work from him. He's drafted into the Mathletes. He loses his best friend. Principal Boverman pays attention to him, which is never a good thing, and his fifteen minutes of fame only last ten minutes.
Arnie comes up with a audacious plan that will solve all his problems. But can he pull it off? If he can get his best friend back on his side, and if his sister's skills as a hypnotist are not overrated, he just may conquer The Wall of Doom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Claire W. Horowitz
• Release date: Dec 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370805280

Claire W. Horowitz

Many years ago, three sixth graders at a certain Texas school attempted to climb a brick wall up to the gym roof. They all failed, including Claire. However, Claire succeeded on other levels, including being fastest runner in Mr. Ricardo's class, having the most enemies in the sixth grade, and receiving the longest morning detention ever given to a student. After leaving Texas, Claire gave up climbing, and now spends her time hiking and writing in Portland, Oregon.

Book preview

Chapter 1

By Death or Detention

This is the most awesome go-cart ramp that's ever been built.

Yes! Carlos says, and we high-five.

We made the ramp ourselves. We lined up cardboard boxes and plastic tubs from shortest to tallest, then glued them all together. I screwed a big sheet of wood on top and Carlos painted it with stripes and fast-looking letters that say, Hi Speed Reaction.

Carlos rolls the go-cart onto the ramp. Unfortunately, the go-cart hangs off one side, its wheels spinning in the air.

What’s happening? I say. Why doesn’t it fit?

We probably should have measured first, Carlos says.

I flip the go-cart around, but there’s no way all the wheels will stay on the ramp.

There’s got to be some way we can make this work. I throw myself down on the ground next to the ramp to get a closer look.

We could make the go-cart smaller, Carlos says.

But, it's so small already! We made it using parts from my sister's old wagon and wheels from a couple of skateboards my cousin gave me. If we make it any smaller only half my butt will fit.

Then, I see it. The most perfect piece of wood ever. Carlos, this is it! I jump up the back steps and grab the handrail.

What?

This! I say, banging on the handrail. We can add it to the side of the ramp, to make it wider.

Arnie, we can't use that. Carlos shakes his head.

Yes, we can! I explain that no one ever uses the handrail, anyway. It's just stuck there, useless. If we take it for our ramp, it'll be like we're recycling.

You think? Carlos says, and I can see he's agreeing with me.

I hand him a hammer, and we start taking off the handrail. It's nailed on really well.

What are you two doing?

I look up to see my sister at the back door. She stares at me. Her eyes are like black pools. Shark-infested pools where the frog princess of repulsiveness lives.

Go away, Malice, I say.

My sister's name is Alice, but I call her Malice. Not only does Malice rhyme with Alice, it also describes her perfectly. It means making another person miserable for no reason. That’s what my sister does to me every day.

Hey, Alice, Carlos says.

Hi, Carlos.

I glare at her, but Malice ignores me.

Our dog, Lumpy, rushes out the door behind her. Carlos jump off the steps, and Lumpy runs circles around him.

Malice hangs over my shoulder. Why are you tearing apart the steps?

This is so typical of her, hugely exaggerating the facts to make it seem like I'm doing something wrong.

I am not tearing apart the steps. We are removing one small piece of wood, so we can recycle it.

I wonder what Mom will say about that.

I don't want Mom to hear about the railing recycling. Because if she finds out about the piece of wood I'm recycling, she'll want to see the ramp. If she sees the ramp, then she'll ask about the go-cart. If she looks at the go-cart, she'll find something unsafe about it. If she thinks something is unsafe, it’ll end up on her list of Things Not Allowed When Mom Isn't Home.

That list is long enough already.

What will your silence cost me this time? I sigh.

Two weeks of poop patrol, and unlimited use of the go-cart.

Unlimited use of our go-cart? I yell. Carlos comes back up the steps.

It is Alice’s wagon, Carlos says. Sometimes he forgets whose side he’s on.

I roll my eyes. Okay, but only one week of poop patrol. I stare at Malice hard enough that darts should be shooting out my eyes. Lumpy is the greatest dog on the planet, but he drops a deuce every time he goes outside. In fact, it's what he's doing right now. I'm not looking forward to extra doodie duty. I turn my back on Malice. Come on, Carlos. Let's both use hammers on the same side, that might loosen the nails.

After a couple of good whacks, the railing pops off. We set it next to the ramp. I was right, it’s exactly the right size. The pointy ends of the nails stick out of the wood. We hammer them flat to prevent unwanted bloody piercings.

Carlos holds the railing while I attach it to the ramp. It requires a lot more nails. I step back to admire my work, but I'm disappointed.

It doesn't look nearly as good as it did before, I say. The railing sticks off the side of the ramp like a hangnail.

No, it’s even better! Carlos says. I'll paint stripes on the railing, and it’ll look like an auxiliary launching device.

Alright! We high-five.

It's times like these that it’s good to have a guy like Carlos around. He always sees the positive, and he's a pretty good painter. I crawl under the steps and roll out the old, half-empty paint cans. I toss Carlos a paintbrush.

We'll be able to test it tomorrow afternoon, I say.

Carlos looks up from the cans. Are you kidding? We can't try it tomorrow.

I suddenly remember what’s happening tomorrow.

The paint will be dry by then, I say, pretending I don't know why we won’t be able to test the go-cart ramp. I glance sideways at Carlos. Picking up a paint can, I try to act cool.

Carlos drops his paintbrush. Arnie, the entire sixth grade has been planning for tomorrow since we got back from Spring break!

I make an innocent face, like, What? but I know what he's talking about. Tomorrow, all the teachers, and Principal Boverman, will be leaving right after school to attend the Money for Schools, Not Prisons rally at the Capitol. For once, the sixth grade will have complete control of the schoolyard. Of course, I remember. I ball up my fist to stop my hand from shaking. I was hoping this day would never come. Now I've got to tell Carlos I can't do it. I take a deep breath.

Carlos, I –

I know what’s going on tomorrow! Malice yells. I flinch, and drop the paint can on my foot.

Geez, what are you still doing out here? I shout, hopping on one foot. Stop bothering us!

You're going to climb The Wall! Her eyes bug out like a toad's.

Carlos shrugs. Maybe, he says.

I knew it! Malice says. Everyone at school has been talking about it!

You don't know anything, I say. Anyway, this has nothing to do with you, it’s only for sixth-graders. Get out of here before I knock you in the head with this paint can. I shake the can. Malice knows it's an empty threat, but she stomps into the house, sticking out her tongue at me. I finally turn back to Carlos. He shakes his head before I can say anything.

Arnie. We made a pact. We're both going to climb The Wall.

We made that pact in fourth grade, back when climbing The Wall was too far in the future to even seem possible.

Now it's all too real.

Come on, Arnie. We can do this!

I try to look confident, at least on the outside. What's Carlos going to think when he finds out there’s no way I'm going to honor our pact?

For one thing, climbing The Wall is illegal. Principal Boverman said climbing The Wall will bring on the strongest possible disciplinary action. For another thing, climbing The Wall is deadly. One wrong move, and SPLAT! I’d have to be scrapped off the blacktop. I would rather keep all my blood inside my body.

Any attempt to climb The Wall will end by either death or detention.

Neither of those sound good to me.

Chapter 2

Anarchy on the Playground

Carlos meets me at my locker as soon as school lets out.

Arnie, you know that feeling you get sometimes? he says. When you just know you can do something, something great, even if you never could before?

No, I say, because I’ve never had that feeling.

But, Carlos isn't listening to me. Climbing The Wall is going to be so cool!

It isn’t cool, it’s life-threatening! Remember that kid who told us his brother knew a guy whose cousin fell off the wall? And, broke his neck? I ask.

I don’t think it’s that dangerous, Carlos says, shaking his head. He bangs open the school door, jumps down the steps, and heads to the courtyard. He looks real confident.

That makes me worried.

Just like almost every other kid, Carlos has been talking about climbing The Wall for weeks. I never believed he'd actually try it. Kids like us don't climb The Wall.

Maybe it’s just kids like me that don’t climb The Wall.

Carlos has been my best friend since he moved in two houses down the street from me in second grade. Now he's also the top soccer player in school. Until this year, we always played on the same team. Then, he got really good, and I didn’t. Soccer isn’t really my thing, anyway. I’m more of a basketball player. Or I will be, if I ever get taller.

When I get outside there’s a crowd hanging around. Usually, we can’t wait to get out of here. But, with Mr. Boverman gone, there's anarchy on the playground.

Kane McCloud is using a broken pen to scrape his initials into a door. Some boys are daring each other to snort Pixie Stix. Other kids are running around playing swear-word freeze tag. There’s a shoving battle going on to decide who gets to be next to climb The Wall.

The Wall is off-limits. But, telling that to sixth-graders at Alan Shepard School is as useless as putting a Moths Beware! sign next to a porch light.

Matthew Epstein wins the shoving battle. He heads to The Wall of Doom.

The Wall is the outside of the old gym. The gym is ancient, like from the 1980s. It’s the only building made of bricks. The Wall isn’t a regular flat brick wall. Random bricks stick out a few inches, just far enough to get a foot on. Kids use the bricks like steps, to climb all the way to the top of the building.

Prickly bushes line the base of The Wall. Dumpsters and recycling bins crowd the concrete platform in front of the bushes. This is clearly an effort to get kids to stop climbing The Wall, but it has no effect. Even the slimy garbage clinging to the branches between the bins doesn't stop kids from climbing.

Matthew flips onto the yellow dumpster, the starting point for all climbs. From that base camp, a kid can reach the lowest brick. There are three routes up, and each requires at least one death-defying maneuver. Kids who actually make it to the top slap the rusty gutter that hangs down from the roof. Some kids stay up there long enough to write their initials on the gutter with a Sharpie.

Matthew pulls himself onto The Wall, and quickly gets two bricks up. But, he’s taken the north trail, which has a long distance between footholds. His legs are too short to reach the next brick. He stretches – stretches – stretches as far as he can.