by Linda Urban
“All I have so far is my supplies,” said Max. “But I already made a clay porcupine.”
He looked around for the plastic bag he and Mom had packed. It was not with his weekend things. He opened his school backpack. His porcupine report was there, but his supplies were not. Then he remembered. He had taken the bag out of his backpack to make room for his report.
“Oh, no!” said Max. “I left it at school!”
“Maybe we can go get it,” said Warren.
“The school is probably locked for the weekend,” said Max. Another snore rumbled from the living room. “Besides, my dad is already asleep. I’ll have to tell him tomorrow.”
Warren got into his sleeping bag. Max crawled into bed and turned out the light. For a long time, Steve and Cuss talked in the dark. Eventually, Warren fell asleep.
Later—after crafting a detailed plan for how he and Warren and Dad could use sneaky spy tricks to slip into the school and rescue his porcupine supplies—Max fell asleep too.
Chapter
Three
The sneaky-spy porcupine-rescue plan did not seem as practical by day as it had when Max was falling asleep, but by the time he and Dad and Warren had arrived at Ace’s Coffee Shop, Max was no longer thinking about porcupines anyway. Max was thinking about breakfast.
“I’ll have the County’s Best Bacon and Pineapple Pancakes,” said Max. He was so excited that Warren was here at his favorite restaurant that he spun on his stool.
“Ditto,” said Warren, who spun as well.
“Two orders of the County’s Best, coming up!” Ace reached under the counter and pulled out his red ukulele. He plucked a string. Everyone in the coffee shop fell silent. Ace sang:
“Pancakes, oh pancakes,
oh pancakes divine.
Better with bacon,
much better with pine . . . apple.
Best in the county,
best we can make ’em.
Best with pineapple,
and bester with bac-om!”
The room burst into applause, but Ace held up a hand for quiet. “For a second order, a second verse!”
A second verse? Max had not known there was a second verse! This day was turning out great!
“Pancakes, oh pancakes,
oh pancakes galore.
Butter to slather,
syrup that’s pour . . . able.
Some folks like whipped cream,
some prefer jelly.
Isn’t much difference
when they’re in your belly!”
What if there was a third verse? “Dad,” cried Max, “order the pancakes! We need to see if there’s a third verse!”
“I’m sorry, boys. I don’t think I can handle the County’s Best today.” Dad knocked over a toothpick dispenser as he reached for a napkin. “It feels like a coffee-and-dry-toast day to me,” he said, wiping his nose.
Ace set the toothpick dispenser back on its feet. “You’ll have to come back on a day when your dad doesn’t have a cold.”
“Mr. LeRoy doesn’t get colds,” said Warren.
“Good to know,” said Ace, but Max saw him raise his eyebrow, just like Mrs. Maloof had.
After breakfast, Max and Warren ran all the way to Dad’s apartment, though they had to double back for Dad several times.
“Let’s take a breather before we walk the dogs,” said Dad when they finally reached 202. Max and Warren quick-walked to the room with the blue walls to get Steve and Cuss.
Warren’s habitat project was on the dresser. As soon as Max saw it, he remembered. His great-day feeling vanished. How was he going to make a porcupine habitat without any supplies?
“Does your dad have markers?” asked Warren. “For work, maybe?”
A huge snore echoed in the living room. Dad was asleep again. “My dad is a systems analyst,” said Max. “I don’t think they use markers.”
“Too bad he’s not an artist,” said Warren. “Or a teacher. A teacher would have markers and paints and stuff.”
A teacher! Didn’t Mr. Polaski say that Ms. Tibbet used to be a teacher? The day was saved!
Max left Dad a note.
Visiting Ms. Tibbet, 302
Max and Warren tiptoed out of the apartment. They shut the door behind them very quietly.
“Are you being sneaky?” said a loud voice.
It was Mr. Polaski’s plump niece, Estelle. She had yellow stuff all over her face and hands. It looked like she had been attacked by a mustard sandwich.
“We’re doing important homework,” whispered Max.
“Can I do it too?” Estelle asked just as loudly as before.
“Sorry,” said Max. “This is third-grader stuff. Besides, shouldn’t you be with your uncle?”
“He said stand right here until he could get a washcloth.”
“You’d better do what he says, then,” said Max. He grabbed Warren’s arm. They quick-walked to the stairs as fast as they could.
“I have a black marker I use to address packages,” said Ms. Tibbet. “But I am afraid I have no paints.” She invited Max and Warren into 302. Its walls were not white but bright purple, most of which was hidden behind tall bookshelves. “Sit,” she said. Max and Warren sat. So did Barkis and Peggoty.
“Tell me why you need paints,” she said.
Max and Warren explained everything, including how they thought she might have art supplies, since she used to be a teacher.
“I was once a professor of English literature. Although I enjoyed it very much, it was sadly lacking in painting opportunities,” said Ms. Tibbet. “However, I have read a few things that may help. Are you boys familiar with the term quest?”
Stevicus went on quests all the time. “It’s like a mission to find something and there are battles and stuff along the way,” said Max.
“Precisely—although I hope today’s journey will prove battle-free,” said Ms. Tibbet. “I propose a quest. Two young heroes—”
“That means us,” Max said to Warren.
“Two companionable beasts—” Ms. Tibbet continued.
“That means the dogs.”
“And one elderly sage.”
Max didn’t want to call Ms. Tibbet elderly, so he didn’t say anything, but Warren understood.
“A smart lady,” said Warren.
Ms. Tibbet smiled her wrinkle-making smile and handed Max a pencil and paper. “Make a list of quest items. I will call L. LeRoy and inform him of our plans.”
The list looked like this:
Max showed Warren the list. “I have Super Sticky Glue in my bag,” said Warren.
Max crossed glue off the list.
“One quest item already in hand?” said Ms. Tibbet. “That bodes well. Now, shall we commence?”
“Yes,” said Max. “Let’s go.”
Chapter
Four
It was a beautiful, sunny day. Max was so excited to be going on a quest that he wanted to run, but when they got outside, Ms. Tibbet handed him Peggoty’s leash. She gave Barkis’s leash to Warren.
“I find it easier to be a sage when I am not being dragged about by beasts.” Ms. Tibbet looked at the list of quest items. “‘Forest floor stuff,’” she read.
“Leaves and pebbles,” explained Max. “Maybe some small sticks.”
“And where in all the land might such treasures be discovered?” asked Ms. Tibbet.
Max thought. “The park?” he said.
“Indeed,” said Ms. Tibbet. “The park shall be our destination. But perhaps we should consider other stops along the way?”
“Toothpicks could be sticks,” said Max. “Ace’s Coffee Shop has toothpicks.”
“Onward, then, to Ace’s,” said Ms. Tibbet in a noble voice.
The young heroes led the companionable beasts and the elderly sage to the sidewalk in front of Ace’s Coffee Shop. “I shall mind the hounds while you venture in,” said Ms. Tibbet.
“Aren’t you coming with us?” Max liked Ace, but he had never been inside
the coffee shop without Dad. Going inside and finding Ace and asking for a favor made Max feel nervous.
Ms. Tibbet shook her head. “The role of the elderly sage is one of advisor. It is the young heroes’ job to obtain the treasures of the quest.”
“Shoot,” said Warren. “I think she’s right.”
Max and Warren handed the leashes to Ms. Tibbet and pushed open the coffee-shop door. It looked different without Dad there. Darker and stuffier and like there were more strangers inside. When Max was little and had felt nervous, he always reached for Mom’s or Dad’s hand, but he was nine now, and there was no way he was holding hands with Warren.
They walked shoulder to shoulder up to the counter, where Ace was taking an order. Max had never noticed the scar on Ace’s forearm before, or how huge his hands were. Ace gripped his order pencil like he might snap it in half. Max couldn’t say a word. Even when Warren elbowed him, Max did not speak. Finally, Ace looked their way.
“Max, where’s your dad?”
All the people at the counter turned to stare at Max. He felt like he could hear them thinking, A little boy? All alone? He imagined them rubbing their hands together like Baron Mincemeat’s men did when they were plotting something terrible.
“He—he’s at home, sleeping,” Max said. “We have Ms. Tibbet.”
“She’s an elderly sage,” explained Warren.
“True,” said Ace. “So, what can I do for you?”
Max cleared his throat. He tried to sound like a young hero. “We come in quest of toothpicks,” he said.
“For a porcupine habitat,” said Warren.
“For school,” said Max.
The people at the counter laughed. At first it sounded like an evil Baron Mincemeat kind of laugh, but when Max looked at their faces, he could see it was the happy kind.
“I can help with that,” said Ace. “Just a minute.”
Ace disappeared into the kitchen. He came back a few minutes later with two bags. He handed one to Warren. “Toothpicks for school,” he said. He handed the other bag to Max. “Soup for your dad. On the house.”
“Wow,” said Warren. “Hey, do you have any poster paint?”
“Just toothpicks and soup today.”
“Toothpicks and soup are great,” said Max. “Thank you!” His happy, wanting-to-run feeling was back, but running would spill the soup. Instead, Max and Warren quick-walked out to the sidewalk, where Ms. Tibbet and the dogs were waiting.
“Excellent work, young heroes,” said Ms. Tibbet.
“Wumph,” said Peggoty, bumping the soup bag with her nose.
By the time they returned to Dad’s apartment building, there were check marks next to every item on the quest list except for one.
They had collected pebbles off the sidewalk. The Birch Street Produce man had given them some kale to use for shrubs and leaves. At the park, they gathered small rocks and strong sticks that would make good trees— including one with a perfect crook in it, just right for a porcupette to sleep in. A pink-haired lady at Museum of Shoes gave Max a box with a picture of a high-heeled sandal on the side.
But they still did not have paints.
“I am sorry, young hero, that we did not acquire everything on your quest list,” said Ms. Tibbet as they rode the elevator to the second floor. “But I hope you feel better than you did before.”
“I guess so,” said Max. He knew he should be happy about all the things they had found. But without paint, the shoebox would still have a sandal picture on it and the toothpicks would still look like toothpicks. His habitat would not look right at all. The porcupine was a great mammal. It deserved a great habitat.
The elevator doors opened. Estelle was in the hallway again. She was no longer covered in yellow, but her one-armed baby doll, Monica, was.
“Your doll got mustard on her too, huh?” said Max.
“Not mustard,” said Estelle. “Sunshine.” She lifted the doll’s foot. There was a green sploosh on it. “That’s grass. The blue in her hair is the sky.”
Max looked at Warren. Warren looked at Max. “Paints!” they said at the very same time.
Mr. Polaski was very happy to let Max use Estelle’s paints for his project. “I have had all the sunshine I need for a while,” he said.
It took several knocks before Dad opened the apartment door. He looked like he had just woken up. His eyes were pillowy and his hair stuck up in all directions.
“Like quills upon a fretful porcupine,” said Ms. Tibbet. “Fitting.” She bowed her head at Max and Warren. “Our quest is concluded. You have been brave and clever and persistent. Well done, young heroes.”
“Well done to you, too, elderly sage,” said Warren.
“Warren,” said Dad. “I don’t think—”
Ms. Tibbet held up her hand. “All is well, L. LeRoy.”
Max bowed to Ms. Tibbet. “Thanks for your help.”
“It was my pleasure. I have not been on a quest in a very long time.” Ms. Tibbet handed Dad his bag of soup. “And now, by your leave, I shall return these beasts to their lair. Fare thee well, young heroes!”
“Fare thee well!” said Max.
Chapter
Five
Warren barely got his beaver dam glued together before his mom came to pick him up. He left his Super Sticky Glue behind for Max to use.
“Fare thee well, Max,” he said.
“Fare thee well, Warren,” said Max. “See you Monday.”
After Warren left, it was just Max and Dad in the apartment. “You can go back to bed if you want,” said Max.
“I got a great nap while you were on your quest,” said Dad. He sat down at the breakfast bar next to Max. “Would you show me what you’re working on?”
Max shook his head. “I don’t like it.”
The entire time that Warren had been gluing, Max had been arranging and rearranging his quest items, but nothing looked right. If he rested the box on the long side, the stick trees were too tall. If he set the box on the short side, the trees fit, but there was no room to build a den.
“This box is too small,” Max said.
“The box is the problem?” asked Dad. “Max, I may not have paints or Super Sticky Glue, but I am the King of Boxes. Follow me. And bring your things.”
Max followed Dad into his bedroom. How could he have forgotten? Dad’s room was filled with boxes!
Dad opened a cube-shaped box and turned it over on the bed. Blankets and sheets tumbled out. “How about this one?” asked Dad. “It’s roomy.”
Max considered the box. “Too roomy. My habitat would be mostly sky, and I don’t have that much blue paint.”
“How about this one?” Dad opened another box. It was filled with bathroom things like soap and aspirin bottles and extra shampoo. Dad put the things in the bathroom cupboards while Max examined the box. It was a rectangle, but it was still too big. Plus, it smelled like coconut shaving cream. Porcupine habitat should not smell like shaving cream.
The third box Dad opened was very heavy. When he turned it over on the bed, pots and pans clonked out. “I didn’t know I had pots and pans,” said Dad. “Your grandma must have packed this one.” He took the pots and pans into the kitchen.
The pots-and-pans box was too big, too. All of the boxes were too big.
“Hmm . . .” Dad made his really-thinking-hard-about-something sound. “Tell me more about porcupine habitat.”
Max explained about the forest floor and how he wanted to show a little porcupine den and lots of trees, including the one with the crooked branch for a porcupette to sleep in.
“Hmm . . . I wonder . . .” Dad left the room and came back with Friday night’s pizza box. “What would you think of something like this?” He folded the lid of the box in half so that the back part closed flat like it normally would, but the front part stuck straight up.
“So, underneath the closed part could be the den,” said Max. “And I could paint a forest scene on the sticking-up part!”
“W
e’ll have to tape the top part open,” said Dad. “Luckily, in addition to being the King of Boxes, I have a side gig as the Prince of Packing Tape.”
Dad held the lid in position while Max taped it in place. “Thanks,” said Max. “But I have to do the rest by myself, otherwise it won’t be my habitat project.”
“That sounds right.” Dad spread packing paper on the floor and set the pizza box on top of it. “Let me know if you need help, okay?”
“Okay,” said Max. “You can go back to sleep if you want.”
“Thank you. But right now I have a habitat project of my own to finish.”
Max arranged and glued and taped and painted. Dad opened boxes and put the old things he found in all the new places they belonged. They both worked so hard that they did not notice the sky growing darker outside. Finally, Dad clicked on the bedroom light.
“Well, what do you think?” asked Dad.
Max looked up from his project and around at Dad’s room. It was amazing. The room was bright and clean and there were no boxes in it, except for the one Dad was using as a nightstand.
“I guess you’re not the King of Boxes anymore,” said Max.
“Guess not,” said Dad. “Now I’m just a guy who has finally moved into his apartment.”
Max could not tell if Dad was happy about not being King anymore. His voice sounded sort of creaky—but maybe that was just his not-cold?
“It’s a very nice habitat,” said Max.
Dad smiled. “Thanks, sport.”
“I’m not a sport. I’m a porcupine expert.” Max put down his paintbrush. His porcupine habitat looked great. He had filled in some of the den with rocks and pebbles so a porcupette could feel snug and safe. The trees were all glued in place with Warren’s Super Sticky Glue. He had painted the toothpick sticks and glued in the kale bushes very realistically. His forest background was the best of all. Max had painted the bottom part with greens and browns and put blue sky above it. Once that was dry, he painted lots of tall brown lines, so it looked like a whole forest of trees. He had done it patiently, one line at a time, just like he had drawn the quills on the porcupine on the cover of his report.