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Mr. Scary smiled. “We won't turn it on yet. But you can still practice your song, okay?”

“Okay!” said Sheldon real thrilled.

Then he stood up straight and tall.

And he walked over to the microphone.

And he started to sing “Hark! Harold the Angel Sings.”

He played the cymbals while he sang.

It was very lovely, sort of. But Mr. Scary's face did not look delighted.

He held up his hand. “Uh … could you hold it a second there, Sheldon?” he called. “Could you stop singing for a minute, please?”

Sheldon stopped.

Mr. Scary walked over to the microphone.

“Okay. Well … that's a very nice Christmas carol, Sheldon,” he said. “And you were singing it beautifully. But the trouble is … it really isn't Christmas, is it? So I'm wondering if maybe you know a different song.”

Sheldon thought for a minute.

“How about ‘I Have a Little Dreidel’?” he asked. “I know that one.”

Mr. Scary ran his fingers through his tired hair.

“Yes, well, that's sort of the same problem, isn't it?” he said. “It's not really Hanukkah, either.”

Mr. Scary bent down next to him.

“Do you know any songs besides holiday songs?” he asked. “Or is there some other talent you have, Sheldon? Like can you whistle, maybe? Or do a magic trick?”

Sheldon thought some more.

“I can blow milk bubbles out of my nose,” he said. “But that mostly only happens when I'm choking.”

Mr. Scary started rubbing the sides of his head. He was getting another headache in there, I think.

Then, all of a sudden, Sheldon's whole face lighted up.

“Hey! Wait! I just thought of another song I could sing!” he said. “‘Happy Birthday,’ Mr. Scary! I know all the words to ‘Happy Birthday’! And that isn't even a holiday song!”

Our teacher stood there a second.

Then he nodded his head. And he said “Happy Birthday” would be just dandy.

Sheldon started his performance all over again.

He sang the song and played the cymbals very good.

After he got done, he did a somersault.

I do not know why.

Then hurray! Hurray! It was finally time for me!

I quick put down my woodblock. Then I reached into my pocket. And I took out my pretend lemons. And I started to pretend I was juggling.

Juggling for pretend is way easier than juggling for real.

I skipped and twirled and danced.

Mr. Scary and Sheldon clapped and clapped.

I did a bow.

Then I picked up my woodblock again. And I hit it with my stick. And me and Sheldon marched off the field.

We jumped all around and did a high five.

Then Sheldon picked me up and tried to twirl me around. Only he wasn't actually strong enough. And so mostly I just dragged on my toes.

His face turned reddish and sweaty.

He put me down and wiped his head with his sleeve.

“Whew. You weigh a ton, girl,” he said.

I did a smile.

I like that odd boy.

I really, really do.

I closed my journal. And I watched the clock for the rest of the afternoon. ’Cause I just wanted to get home and practice some more.

Daddy came home from work to help me again. He tried to help me juggle for hours and hours and hours.

Only the most I could ever juggle was two dumb lemons.

And two dumb lemons is not even juggling.

Two dumb lemons is just throwing lemons in the air and catching them.

I am not going to school tomorrow.

And I mean it.

I glanced my eyes all around the room.

The children in Room One looked very cute.

The kickball players were wearing matching red-and-white shirts. All of their shirts said “WE ARE (ROOM) NUMBER ONE!”

The cheerleaders matched each other, too. They had on red skirts and white sweaters.

I looked at Sheldon.

His daddy's band jacket was way too giant. And his band hat came over his ears.

He looked like a nitwit, too.

I put my head down on my desk very glum.

My oatmeal-box hat fell on the floor.

May started to laugh.

“I hope that doesn't happen when you juggle today, Junie Jones,” she said very meanish.

She raised her eyebrows.

“You are going to juggle, aren't you?”

I didn't answer that girl.

Instead, I turned my head to the wall. And I closed my eyes. And I