Take Two! by John J. Bonk Page B

fish, mammals, coral, you name it. I’d gotten totally sucked up into water world, but never stopped thinking about
     the big finale of the day – Dad! I was jotting down report possibilities in my spiral notebook as we moved from exhibit to
     exhibit. By late afternoon I had it narrowed down to:
    1. Beluga Whales . Love to have their tongues tickled! (I’ll take the staff’s word for that.)

    2. Potbelly Seahorses . Males give birth to the babies. (Totally glad I’m not a seahorse.)
    3. Poisonous Frogs . The prettier, the deadlier. (Something about that combo that’s hard to resist.)
    When we stumbled upon the penguin exhibit I melted – on the inside. The outside was pretty chilly. But those birds were so
     darn cute. I scored the last seat on a long, carpeted bench facing the exhibit, which was packed with noisy little kids in
     red crab-pincher caps. The penguins were behind a wall of thick glass. Some swimming; some waddling around on a cascading
     rock wall that was dripping in icicles.
    “Hey, Dust,” Wally said, running up to me, “you like seafood?”
    Even the first-grader sitting next to me rolled his eyes. But you had to indulge the Walrus every now and then.
    “Yeah. Why?”
    “See – food!” He opened his mouth wide, revealing a chocolatey lump.
    “That joke is older than the hills – with dinosaur poop sprinkled on top.”
    Wally stopped chewing and made a sour face.
    “So is this Snickers Bar.”
    We majorly cracked up, just like old times. But thenthe Oxymoron bounded out of nowhere and dragged him away.
    “Why’s Wally always hanging out with that guy now?” Stewy asked, squeezing in next to me. (And I’d assumed the weird smell
     was coming from the fish.) “I thought
you
were his best friend.”
    “I am!”
    Wally’s booming laughter came from the Oceanarium behind us. The Oxymoron probably told him a joke about Mozart or Schmozart
     or something.
    “Well, don’t look now,” Stewy said, looking over his shoulder, “but you might have some competition.”
    “I think that’s apparent.”
    “Nuh-uh, that’s an eighth-grader. Lester something. He’s just overgrown for his age.”
    “No, not a
parent
– I meant – oh, skip it.”
    The crab-cap crew was leaving and a bunch of rowdy boys around my age immediately took their place on the bench. I honed in
     on the staff guy, who was giving his spiel in front of the exhibit. “We humans can learn a valuable lesson from these feathered
     creatures…” He looked an awful lot like a giant penguin himself. “Most penguins mate for life.”
    Interesting!
I added 4. Penguins after Poisonous Frogs in my notebook and jotted down that little fact. When I looked up I saw Zack and some of the other Fireballs roughhousing
     down the steps – they ended up standing right in front of us,blocking our view.
Rude with a capital
R. Mr. Kincaid was with them. He’d probably volunteered to chaperone so he could make Zack drop and give him twenty between
     exhibits.
    “Hey, Butterballs! Down in front!” the kid next to me hollered.
    “Don’t look now,” I heard Pig say to Zack, “but the Claymore Cougars are here.” Suddenly the human wildlife was more interesting
     than the penguins. It was almost like the Jets meeting the Sharks in
West Side Story
, only without the switchblades and finger snaps. Their conversation went something like this:
    FIREBALLS: Well, if it isn’t the Claymore Boogers. We’re looking forward to beatin’ the snot outta you at the Slam-Dunk Tourney
     this year.
    COUGARS: In your dreams. We whooped your [BLEEP] last year, Butterballs. What makes you think we can’t do it again?
    FIREBALLS: Duh. Home-court advantage. This year the tourney’s on our turf!
    COUGARS: [CRACKING UP BIG-TIME] I guess you guys didn’t hear. News flash: They’re holding the basketball tournament at Claymore
     again this year!
    FIREBALLS: That’s bull!
    COUGARS: ‘Fraid not, Butterballs. The organizers think the athletic facilities