“Oh, uh . . . yeah. The flowers. These are for Trista, if I can ever find her.” Michael scratched his head. “No matter how many times I come down here, I always seem to get the theaters confused.”
“Trista?” Zoe’s voice squeaked. I don’t blame her throat for getting a little tight talking about Michael’s girlfriend.
“Yeah. She got a call back, and today she finds out if she got the part. Can you believe it? She may end up in a musical on Broadway!”
Doug laughed. “That’s ironic! All kinds of people are trying to get on Broadway. And we’re trying to get off!” He slapped his knee. “Do you know the way off Broadway?” Doug looked at Michael, but there was no interrupting whatever he and Zoe had going on.
“Wow. That’s, um, quite an achievement. When you see Trista, will you tell her I said congratulations?”
Michael nodded. “Will do. I haven’t actually seen her in a few weeks. She’s been really busy. Her parents are the ones who told me about the callbacks.”
One side of Zoe’s mouth turned up in a grin. “Well, at least school starts soon. You’ll see her every day then.”
Michael fiddled with the roses, switching them from hand to hand, wiping his palms on his shorts. “Not if she gets the part. She’ll be working every day and getting her schooling on breaks.”
The other side of Zoe’s mouth turned up. “I never thought about that. Well, I hope she gets the part. Oh—but not so that you can’t see her . . . I mean . . . I’m really happy for her. And you. Well, I’m sure you guys will work something out.”
This is torture. Save us, Doug!
“Hey, Michael! Can we bum some money off you for the subway? We’re sorta stranded with all this shrimp.”
NOT THAT WAY, DOUG!
Michael broke eye contact with Zoe and looked down at the Empire Fish Market bags that Doug and I were holding.
“Shrimp, huh?” Michael came a little closer. “Why do you have so much?”
“We’ve got a friend from out of town who’s shrimp crazy. We’re gonna surprise him.”
DOUG!
“And we sorta spent all our money on the shrimp, so now we gotta walk all the way home.”
Michael’s eyes widened. “All the way to 88th?” He dug in his front pocket and turned back to Zoe. “You shouldn’t have to walk all that way.”
Zoe smoothed her hair. “We’re fine. Really. Arcade has this weird goal of seeing more of New York City, so this walk will definitely help him.”
“It’s a thousand degrees out here. Let me help.” Michael pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket and held it out to Zoe.
Zoe pushed it away. “No, I can’t let you do that.”
Michael shoved the twenty in the hand with the flowers and grabbed Zoe’s hand with his other. “I insist.” He tried to put the money in Zoe’s hand, but the money and the flowers got tangled and bobbled. Everything hit the ground instead. Michael and Zoe bent down at the same time to pick it all up, and they bonked heads.
Finally! Some good entertainment.
Zoe and Michael both grabbed their foreheads.
“Oh, man, I’m such a dork.” Michael bent down and picked up the money and the flowers.
“No, that was my fault,” Zoe said.
Michael grinned. “Yes, it was. You should have taken the money.”
Zoe put a hand on her hip. “What? I was just being polite. You can’t fault me for that!”
“I won’t, unless you refuse the money.” Michael held out the twenty-dollar bill again.
TAKE. THE. MONEY. ZOE.
Zoe sighed and looked up at the sky. “Okay, but I’m going to pay you back.”
Michael chuckled. “Okay, you can do that by buying me lunch at school one day. I’ll be the one sitting all by myself while Trista sings herself to stardom on Broadway.”
Zoe smiled. “Deal.”
Michael blew out a breath and looked at me. “Wow. Your sister’s a stubborn one.”
“Oh, man, you don’t even know the half—”
Zoe reached out and put her hand over my mouth. “Be quiet, Arcade.”
Michael turned to leave, but he stopped a second and looked down. In the collision, a rose had broken out of the bouquet and was laying on the ground. He reached down, picked it up, and handed it to Zoe.
“Have a beautiful day,” he said, and then he vanished into the crowd of New York City walkers.
* * *
I had to jog to catch up with Zoe, who seemed to be running away from something.
“Hey!” I came up beside her. “Some of us are hauling shrimp, you know. Are we headed to the subway?”
Zoe stopped. “Well, that’s the plan, Einstein. I didn’t just endure the most embarrassing moment of my life to NOT use this twenty to get us home.”
I breathed out. “Oh, good. Hey, that Michael’s a nice guy, isn’t he?” I pointed to the rose, winked at Zoe, and then ran toward the 59th Street subway station. Zoe followed close behind, kicking the back of my shoe every other step.
Doug caught up with us when we had to stop on the corner at 56th. “We goin’ to the subway? I can’t wait to meet this shrimp-lovin’ friend from out of town.” He laughed.
“Yeah, I can’t wait to see what damage he’s done to your bathroom.”
Chapter 12
Flamenco
“88th Street! Finally!” Zoe waved an index finger at me. “You and that token better behave. I have no more patience for walking today.”
“Oh, but you want to develop patience, right? Maybe that calls for one more trip up Broadway.”
“Here we are!” Doug ran up the steps to his greenstone. “Time for a big ‘ole shrimp fry!”
When we got inside, we were met with extreme squawking from the upstairs bathroom. Zoe pinched her nose. “What’s that smell?”
Doug sniffed his armpits. “I’m good. Must be Arcade.”
I sniffed. “I don’t smell anything. Zoe, you have an overactive nose.”
“No, I don’t. I have an accurate nose. Follow me.” Zoe started up the stairs, and we followed her to the bathroom door. She sniffed. “There. It’s in there.” She pulled her T-shirt collar over her nose. “You go first.”
Okay, so maybe it did smell a little like seafood—gone bad. I opened the door, then wished I hadn’t.
Doug followed close behind. “What’s goin’ on in Gram’s bathroom?”
I stepped aside so he could take a look. Flamingo droppings were everywhere, including all over the white rug that Doug’s grandma had put down next to the sink.
“I guess we should have moved that out,” I said.
“How can so much come from that little teeny bird?” Zoe reached down and rolled up the now ruined rug.
“Well, he ate his weight in shrimp before we left,” Doug said. “I guess we have to help Flames with a little thing called portion control. It had to come out sometime.”
Flames flapped his wings and flew into the bathtub. He kicked his webbed feet in the water, throwing a bunch of it up in our faces, like he was showing off.
“Hey, check out his dance!” Doug pulled a towel off the rack and handed it to Zoe, who had caught the biggest splash right in the face. “Looks like the flamenco!” Doug started kicking his feet and snapping his fingers above his head.
Zoe shook her head and dropped her face in the towel. “I’m outta here.”
Doug stopped the snapping and looked at me. “Guess she’s not into flamenco?”
* * *
After cleaning up for half an hour, and then taping garbage bags down on the entire floor of the bathroom, Doug and I made our way down the stairs, exhausted.
Zoe was on the phone with Dad. “How’d the exams go? Oh, that’s good. I’m sorry I didn’t text when we got home. Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, Dad. We had a few challenges.” Zoe glanced up at us. “Can Doug join us for dinner tonight?” She took the phone from her ear and put it on speaker.
“Sure!” Dad said. “We love Doug.”
“Can he stay overnight too?” I asked. “He’s in a little, uh, situation, and he may need our help. I’ll explain later.”
“Sure, Arcade. You know he’s always welcome here.”
Zoe hung up. I followed Doug up to his bedroom to help him pack some clothes, a sleeping bag, and his pillow in a big black garbage bag we had left over from Flames’s cleanup.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Arcade. I don’t want to move away from this street, this city, all my friends. Especially you. I mean, I knew Gram was getting older and that someday this would happen, but I’m only eleven-and-a-half. I don’t have any closer family than her. Am I gonna end up living out of a bag or box and be homeless?”
“Nah.” I swept my hands in the air. “Not gonna happen. I won’t let it.”
Doug looked down at my chest. “You think your pure gold token can do anything?”
I grabbed it, and it flared heat, but just for a second.
Can I control it? Really?
“Well, one thing’s for sure. If I can make this thing find you a home, I will.”
Chapter 13
Schedule Scare
That night at dinner, we told my parents about Doug’s grandma, and how Doug had been staying at his house all by himself for the last two weeks.
Dad shook his head. “That’s not acceptable. You can stay with us, Doug. That way you can keep your house clean so that when the realtor wants to show it, you’re ready.”
“That’s a great idea,” I said.
Except that the upstairs bathroom is being trashed by a flamingo doing the flamenco.
Loopy, my chocolate-colored shih-poo, climbed up on my lap and couldn’t stop sniffing and licking my shirt.
“Loopy! C’mon, man! I know I’ve been gone all day, but this is ridiculous!” He popped his head up near my chin and licked my mouth.
“Ha!” Doug pointed to some slobber that was tracked on my shirt. “It’s almost like he smells another dog, or some other more exotic animal. Hey, Loopy, you like shrimp?”
A loud knock at the front door made me jump. Loopy leapt down and ran over. Dad got up to open it.
“Well, hello, Kevin and Casey. How is everything at the Tolley residence?”
Kevin AND Casey!?! Ugh . . .
Kevin and Casey Tolley are twins. Double-trouble. I can never tell them apart. One of them has a chipped tooth, but I can’t remember which one. It doesn’t really matter, though, because neither one of them ever smiles anyway.
“Uh, hey, Mr. Livingston.” One of them stepped into our house. “Is Arcade here?”
“Yeah, we’re lookin’ for Arcade,” the other one grunted. He was holding a paper in his hands.
Loopy barked and then sneezed twice. He might be allergic to Tolleys.
Dad waved me over to the living room. “Son, you have visitors.” As if these were civilized people coming over for tea. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for work.”
I grabbed Doug’s sleeve and pulled him into the living room with me. “Stay close,” I whispered. We went out to meet team Double-Trouble.
“Hey, Kevin, Casey. What’s up?”
“What’s up?” Doug said.
The Tolley on the left shook his paper in my face. “This is what’s up. We got another year with Dooley!”
I reached out to take the paper. It was the official MS 230 class schedule for Kevin Tolley. And it said that his homeroom teacher was, sure enough, DOOLEY.
“Hmmmmmm.”
“My schedule’s the same,” Casey said. “We won’t survive another year with Dooley! He never backs down with the homework. You better be in our class to help us, Arcade.”
Then he walked up close. We almost bumped noses.
Oh, no, not this again.
“Well? Are you in our class or NOT?” Casey stared into my eyes.
“I, uh . . . I haven’t checked email today.” I looked over at Doug, and he just shrugged. “I’ve been a . . . little busy.”
Casey backed up and sat down on our couch. “We’ll wait while you check it.”
“Where’s your computer?” Kevin looked around. He spied the laptop on the desk in the corner of the dining room.
Mom peeked out from the kitchen. “Do you need something, Arcade?”
I gulped. “Yeah, Mom. Did my school schedule come in your email today?”
Mom wiped her damp hands on a kitchen towel and walked over to the computer. “I haven’t checked yet. But I can now.”
The quicker the better. Get these guys out of here.
Mom opened her laptop, typed in her username, and scrolled through her inbox. “Ah, yes! Here it is. Schedule for Arcade Livingston, seventh grader at MS 230. This is so exciting!” Soon enough, the printer on the desk was spitting out my schedule. I walked over, said a silent prayer that I wouldn’t be in any classes with the Tolleys, and picked up the single sheet of paper that would define my first year in middle school.
The Triple T Token sizzled on my chest. I began to sweat.
This can’t be happening.
Homeroom: DOOLEY
Bad breath settled on the back of my neck. “Well, that’s a relief. Guess that means we’ll be working together again this year, Arcade.” Kevin gave me a sinister grin. “Our pal Wiley Overton is in our class too. He’s even more fun than us. Guess you better study up, bookworm. We gotta do good in seventh grade, you know.”
At the end of sixth grade, both Kevin and Casey had tried to force me to do their career expo projects for them. Thankfully, I was able to trick them into doing their own, and they actually turned out really great. But that was just one assignment.
How am I going to make it through a whole year with these guys?
Loopy came over and plopped himself at my feet. He barked Casey back a couple of feet.
Good dog. Can you bark them all the way out the door? How about into another school system?
“So, who’s Wiley Overton?” I asked. “And what makes him so fun?”
Casey and Kevin made their way to the front door, both chuckling.
“Who’s WILEY OVERTON?” one of them said. “He’s just the biggest seventh grader you’ll ever meet. He got kicked out of PS 23 in the third grade.”
Gulp.
“Why’d he get kicked out?”
“Fighting,” Casey said, “with just about everyone at school. Ha! You should ask your friend Baker here who Wiley gave a black eye to on Halloween.”
I turned to Doug. “Who?”
Doug poked his chest with his thumb. “This guy.”
Chapter 14
Mail Call
“Arcade, someone sent you some mail!” Zoe nudged me out of my reading trance the next Tuesday afternoon. I was studying a book about the California Gold Rush. Now that I knew I had pure gold hanging around my neck, I was obsessed with knowing where it came from. During the weekend, I had visited the Ivy Park Library, and Ms. Weckles, the children’s librarian, hooked me up with several books about gold. And since I had left the Badger brothers “hanging out” back in California, I figured I might as well study about the Golden State first.
I looked up from my book. “Email?”
Zoe laughed and flicked an envelope in my direction. “No. Snail mail.”
I sat up from the couch. “Really? Who would send me mail in an envelope?” I reached out to retrieve it from the floor. I read the return address.
Miss Gertrude Badger
Cimarron Road
Forest, Virginia
“That’s dope! Miss Gertrude sent me mail!”
“Really?” Zoe zoomed over and plopped down on the couch next to me. “Maybe the Badgers have returned, and she sent a letter to warn you.”
Goosebumps covered my arms. “That wouldn’t be good at all.”
“But you’d want to know, right? If they’ve returned? So you can keep an eye out for them?”
Doug entered the room with a handful of snacks from our kitchen. “Did someone say B
adger? Are they back? Did they survive their fall off the Golden Gate Bridge?” He ran over and shoved himself next to me on the other side of the couch.
“Open it, Arcade,” Zoe insisted.
“Yeah, open it, Arcade.”
I elbowed them both so I could get some breathing space. I grabbed a small piece of the envelope on the end and ripped down.
“That’s not how you open mail,” Zoe said. “You’re supposed to turn it over, and loosen the triangular flap—”
I elbowed her again. “I’m eleven, Zoe. I use technology. Give me some beginner’s grace.”
Zoe put both hands in the air. “Well, hurry it up, then.”
I shook my head. “Sisters.” I finished ripping the envelope down the side, and then tipped it, spilling out the flowery note paper. I unfolded it and read out loud.
Dear Arcade,
I hope you are having a nice summer. Mine has been quiet since you, your sister, and your nice friend Doug returned to New York City.
“Aw, she called me nice!” Doug smiled. “Hey! Maybe I could go live with Miss Gertrude.”
I continued:
Jacey and her mother come to visit me once a week. They bring me the most delicious cinnamon bread . . .
I stopped. The thought of that cinnamon bread made my mouth water.
“What’s wrong, Arcade? Do you miss Jacey?” Zoe reached over and put a hand on my cheek. “Are you blushing?”
I pushed her hand away. “Hey! You should talk—Michael Tolley!” I read on.
My grandsons have not returned since the night you finished renovating the windmill course. I think I know what happened to them, and I must warn you … Do not try to bring them back. I know you have the power to do so, but it is not advised at this time. Trust the tester.
Sincerely,
Miss Gertrude
“Bring them back? Why does she think I have the power to bring them back?”
Zoe pulled the letter from my hand. “It doesn’t matter, because she said not to do it. So, don’t.”
I pulled the token out from under my shirt. “Maybe I really am controlling this! Think about it! I said flamingo, and now we have Flames.”
Arcade and the Fiery Metal Tester Page 6