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Chapter 27 class musical
🕑 Added 2025-04-02 01:06:58 +0000 UTCAfter the impromptu demolition of the old TV, the smoke still lingering in the air, we stood in awkward silence for a beat. George looked way too pleased with himself. Erica was pretending like she hadn’t just been caught kissing him, and Missy? She looked like she was trying to decide whether she was impressed or just mildly traumatized.
“Okay,” I finally said. “That was fun”
Missy grinned. “Totally worth it.”
Sheldon came storming out of the house just then, his hair slightly askew and arms stiff at his sides. “Why did I hear an explosion? Did someone breach the perimeter?!”
George pointed proudly. “We blew up a TV.”
Sheldon blinked in horror. “That was vintage technology!”
“Relax,” Missy said, “it was already broken.”
“Still,” Sheldon muttered, shaken. “That model had cathode ray tubes. You’re all monsters.”
Paige strolled out behind him, smirking at the lingering smoke. “Cool. Next time, invite me. I would've brought something better than firecrackers.”
Sheldon whipped around. “How can you condone this barbaric destruction of historical electronics?! There are museums that would’ve taken that television!”
“Or landfills,” Missy said under her breath.
From the patio, Alan stepped out, rubbing his temples. “Alright, Jake,” he called, “it’s time to go. Say your goodbyes.”
I looked at the others and gave a small wave. “Thanks for the chaos. See you next time?”
“Definitely,” Missy said with a wink.
As I turned to leave, Sheldon called out, “And maybe next time we can play chess rematches under controlled and non-combustible conditions!”
I gave him a thumbs up. “Sure!”
Alan opened the car door for me and muttered, “I’ve never been more grateful you’re my son.”
“Was it the explosion or the lecture about cathode rays?” I asked.
“Both.”
———
The next day was the school’s annual science fair. With only a few days left in the academic year—and me officially moving on to high school—everyone decided it was worth showing up.
Charlie came, reluctantly, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses, already asking where the snacks were. “So, Jake, what’s supposed to be interesting here?”
“Well…” I said, glancing around. There wasn’t much that qualified as interesting in the classroom. Just what you'd expect from 10-year-olds: baking soda volcanoes, solar system models, and a few kids trying to grow mold on bread.
But then I spotted something—or rather, someone—who might spark Charlie’s interest. “You could try your luck with Miss Tuttle,” I said, nodding toward my teacher and giving him a look.
Charlie followed my gaze, raised an eyebrow, and cracked a sly smile. “Now that’s what I call chemistry.”
Figures. It wasn’t the science that got him excited—it was the ‘experiments’ outside the syllabus.
“She’s very strict,” I added.
Charlie shrugged. “Sometimes that works.”
I rolled my eyes and gestured for him to follow. I wasn’t going to be around much longer, so if he was going to mess things up, at least I wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath.
“Hello, teacher. Have you met my uncle Charlie?” I asked, trying to sound smooth. It didn’t land well coming from a ten-year-old.
Charlie introduced himself with his trademark grin. Miss Tuttle gave a polite nod, clearly unimpressed.
Before anything else could unfold, I heard a familiar voice behind me.
“I’m Judith Harper, the class mom!” my mom announced cheerfully.
My dad clapped, clearly expecting others to join in, but ended up clapping alone.
I facepalmed.
Then I heard Uncle Charlie beside me say, “I understand teachers are tragically underpaid.”
“That’s very true,” Miss Tuttle replied with a raised eyebrow.
“I’d like to do my part. Can I buy you dinner?” Charlie asked, bold as ever.
Miss Tuttle looked genuinely stunned.
I took a step to the side, pretending I wasn’t with him. But Charlie reached over, pulled me back into view and added, “I’m his mentor,” clearly trying to take credit for my academic success.
“Shhh,” Miss Tuttle replied quickly, glaring at him.
He looked at me, a bit betrayed, arms slightly raised. I simply shrugged. “Told you she was strict.”
Then Judith stepped up to the mic again. “And finally, this one’s important, folks—we may have to cancel our annual music showcase for the fourth graders.”
A wave of disappointed murmurs spread through the room.
“Unless,” Judith continued with a bright smile, “someone with musical experience volunteers to help us out.”
I smirked. Just in time to see Uncle Charlie distracted near the refreshment table, tossing a sugar cube into his coffee.
“Charlie?” my mom called sweetly.
“Yeah?” Charlie answered on reflex.
“Thank you. Charlie Harper, everyone!” Judith declared, leading a round of applause.
Charlie raised his cup with a polite smile, then blinked, confused. “Wait… what?”
The applause faded into chuckles. I couldn’t tell if Charlie was horrified or amused. Probably both.
He slowly lowered his cup and looked around, as if trying to piece together how he’d just been roped into a school event.
“Wait,” he repeated, this time with growing urgency, “what exactly did I agree to?”
“You just volunteered to lead the music showcase,” Judith replied, positively glowing.
Charlie blinked again. “The kids' concert?”
“Yep. Rehearsals start tomorrow.”
I couldn’t help myself—I burst out laughing.
“Congratulations, mentor,” I said, patting him on the back. “Time to give back to the community.”
Charlie turned to Alan. “Why do I feel like this is your fault somehow?”
Alan, sipping punch, gave a helpless shrug. “Statistically speaking, it was bound to happen.”
That night, back at the beach house, Charlie was pacing like a man preparing for battle.
“I can’t work with kids,” he muttered. “I don’t even like kids.”
“You like me,” I said.
“You’re different. You’re one kid. And a weird one.”
“Thanks?” I replied, not sure if I was supposed to be insulted or complimented.
Charlie dropped onto the couch with a long sigh. “This is gonna be a disaster.”
I grinned. “Probably. But at least it’ll be entertaining.”
