Zeke Zooter - Chapter 1

My name is Ezekiel Marvin Zooter, and I’m cursed. No, I’m not talking about my name, wise guy. But you’ve got a point. I go by Zeke, which isn’t so bad, but combined with Zooter it sounds, I dunno, like a brand of cheap firecracker or something.

I guess the first thing you should know is that I’m an Irish American. Why? Because it’s an important part of this story, that’s why. There’s a good chance you’re part Irish, too. Did you know more than 40 million Americans are direct descendants of Irish immigrants? Millions of people in England, Canada, Australia and other countries have Irish blood, too. If I were you, I’d go ask my parents right now, because if you have Irish blood, you could be in big trouble. And anyway, like my Grandma Deidre says, if you don’t know where you came from, you probably don’t know who you are or where you’re going either.

But like I said, I’m cursed. I’m not talking about being stupid or ugly or anything. I get decent grades, and aside from my wavy reddish-brown hair and freckles, I’m pretty normal-looking. No, I’m talking truly cursed, like someone who insulted a gypsy or opened a mummy’s tomb.

Whoever said the Irish are lucky never met me.

What’s my curse? It’s this: I get what I wish for. Oh sure, I bet you’re thinking, “Why can’t I have a curse like that?” If that’s what you think, then you don’t get it. I’m not talking about wishes like “I-wish-I-had-a-million dollars” or “I-wish-I-were-a genius.” Believe me, I’ve tried those and I’m still stuck with 37 cents and a C in pre-algebra. I’m talking about those spur-of-the-moment wishes you make before you’ve had a chance to think through the consequences. Let me give you an example. You know how sometimes you’re dreading a test the next day in school because you’re not ready? So then you think, “Man I wish I could get sick so I wouldn’t have to go to school tomorrow.”

Bad idea. Imagine the instant the words are out of your mouth, so are the school-cafeteria spaghetti & meatballs, tater tots, green beans and chocolate milk you had for lunch. Oh yeah, accompanied by a 103-degree fever, chills, coughing and a runny nose. That’s the kind of numbskull wish I’m talking about.

That’s exactly what happened to me the first time my curse kicked in this year. Of course, I thought it was just some freak coincidence. I didn’t realize what had really happened. It didn’t take long to find out, though.


It was only two days after puking in front of the student body that I got my second dumb wish. And it was ten times as bad. See, I had this mega crush on Melinda Rosengloss, the finest babe in the seventh grade at Stubtoe Middle School. She has this mesmerizing way of cocking one eyebrow and wrinkling her nose when she smiles. Don’t even get me started on her eyes unless you’re in the mood to read pages of love poetry. (I didn’t think so.)

Yeah, Melinda was hot stuff all right. Too bad she didn’t know me from the classroom pencil sharpener. Well, she and her crowd of giggly friends were walking by, not seeing me as usual, when I happened to mutter under my breath, “I wish I could get Melinda to notice me. She could at least give me the time of day.”

No sooner had the words escaped when suddenly her head whipped around and not only did she look at me, she stopped short and stared. So of course the whole flock stopped and stared at me, and then looked at each other like, “Huh?” Then Melinda actually walked up to me, looked me up and down, and made a public service announcement.

“You’re freckly and your hair’s a mess and how come your pants are so short?”

(OK, in fairness, my pants were too short but I thought the rest of it was a little harsh.)

Of course the entire gaggle of girls burst into goose-honking giggles. Melinda started to walk off, looking confused, but then she suddenly looked over her shoulder and added, “By the way, it’s 10:44 a.m.”

I stood there with my mouth open. My best friend Dex, who was standing right next to me, tried to smooth it over.

“You should thank her, Zeke. Now you can go home and log the exact moment in time when Melinda Rosengloss obliterated your social world forever.”

I would have answered him, but I was too busy staring at my jeans and wondering why I hadn’t noticed that my socks were showing.

It’s a good thing I had a friend like Dex Moosbrugger. I don’t think anyone could have survived the Rosengloss fiasco if he didn’t have someone like Dex to rely on. He had this uncanny way of laughing stuff off and making you feel better.

Dex could also get out of anything. Seriously. He was slicker than a waxed banana peel on ice. For instance, the next week we got caught lining Dirk Camacho’s jockstrap with superglue (I was still upset about my social disgrace and Dex thought it would cheer me up). We were just touching up the edges when the voice of Mr. Barthorn, our gym teacher, suddenly boomed out from behind, “What the blazes do you two think you’re doing?” If someone had been there to measure, I’m sure I set the school vertical leap record right then. But Dex? He coolly smiled at Barthorn and managed to convince him it was his own jock and that Ms. Watts, our science teacher, had told him superglue made a great stitch substitute. I doubt the alibi would have fooled anyone else, but ol’ Barthorn wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box. On top of that he hated Ms. Watts, who was always dropping hints to the school principal that gym wasn’t a necessary part of education.

“Watts told you that, eh?” Barthorn growled. “She should sign up for Home-Ec. Now get dressed for class.”

Yep, it’s a good thing Dex was so silver-tongued, or we never would have had the pleasure of watching Dirk, the school prima-donna, try to separate himself from his shorts after class.

I often think it’s strange that Dex and I got to be friends in the first place. We’re about as different as caviar and peanut butter. For one thing, I’m a little on the short side, while Dex is tall and lanky. I like sports and outdoor stuff, but Dex is more of a book guy. I guess our friendship has something to do with our last names. We first met in second grade, after Dex and I were the only kids in class who got laughed at when the teacher called role. Let’s face it, when you’re stuck with last names like Zooter or Moosbrugger, you’ve got to watch each other’s back.


Where was I? Oh yeah, the curse.

It wasn’t until my third wish-gone-bad that I suspected something was wrong with me. It happened the next afternoon in Ms. Janowski’s world history class, while she was droning on about Napolean and Waterloo. She had this horrible, nasal buzz to her voice, like a fly that keeps buzzing at your ears when you’re trying to sleep. Now, I knew dozing in Janowski’s class was asking for trouble, but I hadn’t been sleeping well at night since the Rosengloss incident. (I kept dreaming that Melinda was chasing me in the halls yelling, “It’s 10:44, Zeke! Time to buy new pants!” Ugh.)

Besides, the sunlight was streaming through the window on this afternoon, covering my body in a warm blanket of light. If you’re a middle school student, you know that a warm room after lunch in history class is a sure-fire recipe for waking up unexpectedly with your cheek in a puddle of drool.

My head nodded. “I wish it were Friday,” I mumbled under my breath.

Out of nowhere the room grew darker, as if someone had pulled a black curtain across the windows. Lightning flashed, followed by a window-rattling peal of thunder. I jumped in my seat.

“What was that!?” I blurted out.

To my astonishment, everyone else in the room hadn’t seemed to notice, but now they were looking at me like I had cornstalks sprouting out my nostrils.

“Have we never seen a thunderstorm before, Ezekiel?” sneered Ms. Janowski.

I felt my face grow warm. I hate it when grownups use “we” when they mean “you.”

“Yes, we have,” I replied, trying to keep my voice even. “That lightning just came out of nowhere, that’s all. It was bright and sunny a second ago.”

A few students snickered. A smirky smile played at the corners of Ms. Janowski’s mouth.

“Is that so? We haven’t been dozing in my class, have we, Ezekiel?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then I suppose you can offer the class a brief recap of the last 15 minutes of discussion? That is, if you’ve finished with your weather report.”

More students laughed. Most of them hated Janowski as much as me. They were just relieved that she had chosen a different victim for the day.

Determined to show her up, I began a very detailed description of the Waterloo battle, including a few dates from the reading assignment. I hadn’t gotten far, however, when Janowski cut me off.

“Very amusing, Ezekiel, but Miranda enlightened us on that subject on Wednesday. Now, tell us how the Southern States’ cotton trade nearly brought England into the American Civil War.”

“But that’s not until Friday’s reading assignment.”

Janowski’s eyes narrowed. She looked like a raven ready to pounce on a worm. She always wore black, and wore her ebony hair pulled back into the tightest bun you’ve ever seen.

“I see,” she smiled. Now that you’ve brought us up to speed on the weather, perhaps you would like a news flash, Ezekiel. This is Friday.”

The old bird had finally cracked.

“What are you talking about? It’s Wednesday. We were just discussing Waterloo.”

Janowski’s voice turned menacing.

“Enough. I suppose you find this all very amusing, Ezekiel, but you are wasting our time. Next time you fall asleep in class you should try to find a more creative alibi. You get a zero on today’s assignment, and an hour’s detention after school.”

My head was swimming. I looked around and couldn’t believe it. Everyone was looking at me like I was a lunatic. I turned to Dex but even his jaw was hanging open in bewilderment. I felt something rise in my throat, but choked it down and tried to breathe normally. Today was Wednesday. It had to be. Could the entire class be playing a practical joke? But Janowski was no joker, and everyone else was staring at me with a genuine look of alarm.

I remained quiet for the remainder of the lesson, but I didn’t hear any of it.

Finally, the bell rang to change classes.

As soon as I got into the hall, Dex pulled me aside.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you weren’t faking that stuff in there.”

I only half heard him.

“Dex, is it really Friday?”

“Of course it is. Where have you been the last two days?”

“In world history class.”

“Huh?”

I was starting to feel dizzy again.

“Let’s go outside. I need some fresh air.”

“Zeke, it’s pouring rain out there! We’ll be late for class.” But I was already halfway out the door. I headed for the great big maple tree at the corner of the building, which offered some shelter.

“Now are you going to tell me what the deal is?” Dex asked.

“Yeah, it’s Friday.”

“Oh, you finally noticed?”

“I thought somehow everyone was playing a joke on me. But the school marquis has a new stupid slogan of the day, the weather forecast was for rain today and you’re suddenly wearing a different t-shirt.”

Dex just stared at me, then his eyes narrowed.

“Look Zeke, I’m all for smarting off to Janowski and even getting detention for the chance to screw around now and then, but the joke’s over now, OK?”

“Dex, I swear. Please, you’ve got to believe me.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I’m really scared!”

He paused, the rain dripping down his cheek and off his chin. “You know what? You’re good. You really do look scared.”

“Dex, I’m telling you, Wednesday afternoon never happened. I went right from Wednesday to Friday, and it’s really freaking me out that Thursday bailed on me!”

“Uh, Zeke, I think your brain has bailed on you. You were sitting right there in world history yesterday. And yesterday in gym class, you scraped your knee on the hardwood when Dirk the Jerk tackled you during that lay-up.”

“He did? That dumb jock... Wait a second! Which knee?”

“Huh?”

“Dex, which knee did I scrape?”

“Your right knee. It bled pretty good, too.”

I started to pull my pant leg up but my jeans were tight and wet and I couldn’t push the denim up far enough. Desperate, I looked around, saw no one, and started unbuckling my belt.

“Whoa, hold it! What are you doing?” Dex yelled.

“I’m proving it.”

“Oh, hey, no need for that. I’ll take your word for it.”

“You don’t understand. If there’s no scab on my knee, then yesterday didn’t happen.”

“Hang on. At least hide the display from the whole school.”

We moved around to the far side of the tree, and I pulled my trousers down past my boxers to reveal two clean, healthy-looking knees. There was no sign of a scratch. Dex knelt down and examined my right knee. He gave a low whistle.

“I don’t get it. There was this really nasty gash yesterday right there. You should at least have scratch marks or something today.” he said.

“But I don’t, because yesterday never happened for me.”

“So, what did happen?”

“I’m not sure. I was just sitting there, looking out the window. It was sunny outside and I was wishing…” I stopped. “Holy ___.”

I’m sorry to say that a not-so-nice word escaped my mouth at that point.

“Wishing what?”

“Wishing it was Friday.”

Dex’s eyes got wide as doughnuts.

“Yeah, and the next thing I knew it was black outside, with thunder and lightning, and Janowski talking about cotton exports.”

“You mean, you got your wish?”

I nodded.

“Has anything like that ever happened before to you?” he asked.

“Of course not. I … wait!” I had just remembered Melinda Rosengloss the week before, and getting sick the week before that. I told Dex all about how I had wished for both of them.

“Dex,” I finished, hardly daring to believe my own fortune, “I think my wishes are coming true!”

“OH THEY ARE, ARE THEY? DID YOU JUST WISH FOR A WEEK’S WORTH OF DETENTION?”

Dex jumped up and we whirled to see Barthorn standing there, his waxed moustache quivering in a mixture of rage and glee.

Suddenly, I realized my pants were still bunched around my ankles. I’d been so excited that I’d forgotten to pull them back up. Horrified, I looked at Dex for help, but his escape-artist powers seemed to have deserted him.

“Mr. Barthorn, you don’t understand,” I stammered.

“Oh, no need to explain, Zooter, I can see it all real clear. Your pants wouldn’t stay up today so Moosbrugger here was just going to hot-wax ‘em to your hips, weren’t you Moosbrugger? In the rain. On the far side of the school grounds. Behind this oak tree.”

“Maple, sir,” Dex ventured.

“Don’t correct me, you jackanapes. I just came from the nurse’s office. She just spent the better part of an hour separating Camacho from his athletic supporter. Had to use sandpaper in the end. Apparently it’s been stuck to his waist since Tuesday, but I’m sure you two wouldn’t know anything about that, right?”

Dex and I suddenly had a fit of coughing.

“Think it’s funny, eh? We’ll see how hard you laugh running laps for the next month and sitting in detention after school. We’re going back inside, now march!”

Now, you see what I mean? Cursed. What worse luck can you have than to get caught with your pants down in front of your friend on the far side of the school building? It wasn’t my most stellar moment. But it was just the beginning.

Trust Dex to see the bright side, though. He pointed out later that it could have been ten times worse. If you’re in middle school, you’ll agree that it was a good thing we’d been caught in that situation by a teacher and not a student. See, a teacher could more or less just ruin your day. But if you find yourself on the wrong end of a junior high rumor, it can ruin your life.