A Brand-New Me! by Henry Winkler Read Free Book Online Page B

couldn’t catch their breath. It must have been contagious, because Mr. Rock started to laugh really hard, too.
    I walked over to Ashley, doing my funny alien walk which I sometimes practice in my room in front of my mirror instead of doing multiplication tables. I reached out, took the cookies and the plastic bag they were in, and stuffed them in my mouth.
    â€œYour earth cookies look like chocolate, but have no taste.”
    â€œOn our planet, we think it’s more enjoyable if you unwrap the cookies first,” Ashley said, her eyes watering like she was crying, only the tears came from laughing.
    â€œOn Zork, we eat through our bellybuttons,” I said. “I will demonstrate.”
    I held the cookies over my bellybutton and tugged on my earlobe.
    â€œThis is the on switch that starts the process,” I said. Then I made a noise like a vacuum cleaner and spun around three times, stuffing the cookies in my jeans pocket as I was spinning. When I came to a stop, I said, “Those discs with chocolate specs were delicious. We have nothing like that on Zork. They would be excellent with a glass of milkum.”
    I could hardly finish the sentence because Frankie and Ashley and I were all laughing so hard. Before I knew it, I felt Mr. Rock’s hand on my shoulder.
    â€œWe have to talk about this, Hank,” he said.
    â€œI’m sorry, Mr. Rock,” I said, trying to get control of myself. “I guess I got too carried away.”
    â€œHe does that a lot,” Frankie said. “Once his imagination gets going, it takes off like a rocket.”
    â€œYeah,” Ashley agreed. “Hank is the king of getting carried away. Don’t get mad at him. He can’t help it.”
    â€œI’m not angry at all,” Mr. Rock said. “What I am is amazed. I’ve always known you are clever and verbal and funny, Hank. But what I’ve watched you do over the last two days shows me that you have a unique gift. Your ability to create characters and voices and to improvise . . . it’s quite extraordinary.”
    â€œSomething tells me I’d appreciate what you’re saying a whole lot more, Mr. Rock, if I knew what improvise meant.”
    â€œWhen you improvise, it means you make something up on the spot. You reach inside yourself and pull out a performance without a script or written music. It’s what the great jazz musicians do.”
    â€œLike my dad’s favorite trumpet player, Miles Davis,” Frankie chimed in.
    â€œYour dad has good taste,” Mr. Rock said.
    â€œI don’t think I could be a trumpet player,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m supposed to get braces next year, and it would really hurt my lips to press the trumpet up against my braces, metal to metal.”
    â€œHank, I want you to come with me right away,” Mr. Rock said. “Frankie and Ashley, will you excuse us, please? Hank and I have something very important to do.”
    Mr. Rock was almost out the door before he had finished the sentence. I grabbed my backpack, shrugged my shoulders and followed him. He was in a big hurry to take me someplace.
    I wished I knew where.

CHAPTER 13
    Mr. Rock was practically running down the hall, and I had to really hustle to keep up.
    â€œSlow down, Mr. Rock. There’s no running in the hall.”
    â€œIf we were ever going to break the rules, Hank, this is the perfect occasion,” he yelled over his shoulder. “We’re on a mission—Project Hank. We’re about to launch you into your future.”
    â€œI wish I had worn my space helmet.”
    Mr. Rock was in such a hurry, he didn’t even stop to laugh. We raced down the stairs and across the hall to the counselor’s office where I meet with Dr. Lynn Berger once a week. On the glass window in the door there was a sign that said, “If it’s urgent, you can find me in the gym.”
    Without even stopping to catch his breath, Mr.