The Zippy Fix

by Graham Salisbury

  For Ace

  Dream

  Then make it happen

  —G.S.

  For Cessy with love

  —J.R.

  1

  Rodents of Hawaii

  Manly Stanley the centipede, our class pet, looked out at us from inside a jar on our teacher Mr. Purdy’s desk. He was frowning and pounding fifty of his one hundred legs on the glass. I knew what he was thinking: why were we drawing pictures of things that would love to eat him?

  Hey! he seemed to shout. What’s going on out there? Let me see!

  Julio, Rubin, Willy, and I were crowded around my desk working on a science poster. Our project was called Rodents of Hawaii.

  We’d drawn pictures of a mouse, a rat, a guinea pig, and a gerbil. We wanted to put a hamster and a mongoose in there, too, but Mr. Purdy said hamsters were illegal in the islands. They could bring in diseases. And a mongoose is a carnivore, not a rodent.

  We were stumped.

  Manly Stanley raced up onto his rock and stretched his neck for a better look. “Hey, Manly,” I said. “You know of any more rodents we can draw?”

  Julio snorted. “He should. Rodents love centipedes.”

  Manly Stanley cringed and scurried down into the shadows.

  “Look, Julio. You scared him.”

  “Pfff.”

  I tapped on the glass. “Don’t worry, Manly, I’ll protect you.”

  “Come on, guys,” Rubin said. “We’re wasting time.”

  I poked my chin with my black Sharpie. “Are moles rodents?”

  “Yeah, moles!” Julio said.

  “You got moles here?” Willy asked. He was from California and knew lots of stuff we didn’t. “I haven’t seen any.”

  “I got a mole in my armpit,” Rubin said. “Want to see it?”

  Willy laughed.

  Me and Julio looked at Rubin like, Are you for real?

  Rubin put up his hands. “I’m just saying.”

  Mr. Purdy walked by and glanced down at our poster.

  “Great work, boys. Keep going.”

  We looked up and grinned. “We will, Mr. Purdy. But we can’t think of any more rodents.”

  Mr. Purdy pinched his jaw. “Well now. Let’s see. Why don’t you think of yourself as a cat? What rodents might you see if you were hunting in the weeds?”

  “Yeah-yeah,” Julio said. “Be a cat. That’s good, Mr. Purdy, thanks.”

  Mr. Purdy winked and moved on.

  Rubin bent close and mumbled, “Just don’t be a black cat, or else we might get bad luck.”

  Julio scoffed. “Then I’m a black one, Rubin. Just for you.”

  “Black, yellow, green, or purple,” I said. “Mr. Purdy had a good idea. So pretend you’re a cat. What do you see?”

  Rubin snapped his fingers. “A mouse.”

  “We already have a mouse,” I said.

  “We can have two.”

  Julio elbowed Rubin away from the table. “You’re not helping, Rubin. Go breathe your dead squid breath on Shayla or something.”

  Mr. Purdy was leaning over Maya’s desk, helping her. He looked at us over his shoulder.

  Julio pointed at Rubin and started to say something.

  I grabbed his arm. “Don’t, Julio, you’re going to get us in trouble.”

  Mr. Purdy gave us his raised-eyebrow look. He had been in the army and could really do that good, even better than Mrs. Leonard, the principal. “Is there a problem over there, boys?”

  I gave Mr. Purdy my best smile. “No, Mr. Purdy. No problem. Right, Julio?” I banged Julio’s arm.

  “Just kidding,” Julio said, white teeth gleaming.

  Mr. Purdy nodded and turned back to Maya.

  Rubin leaned close and tapped the table with his finger. “See what I mean? You just mention black cats and you got trouble. You got to watch out. Believe it, or don’t.”

  And I didn’t.

  Too bad … because Rubin was right.

  2

  Zippy

  After school I rode my bike home with Willy and Julio.

  Usually I had to walk with my little sister, Darci. But she had a cough that morning and was over at Mrs. Nakashima’s house while Mom was at work.

  We rode straight up, with our arms hanging loose at our sides. It was so hot even the mynah birds were looking for shade.

  When we cruised around the corner onto our street, I slammed on my brakes.

  Julio nearly fell off his bike trying to keep from crashing into me.

  Willy swerved and sailed into somebody’s hedge.

  “Why’d you stop?” Julio spat.

  “Look.”

  I dipped my head toward Maya’s cat, sprawled in the middle of the street.

  Julio looked at me like, Are you nuts? “You caused a wreck because of Maya’s cat?”

  Willy yanked himself and his bike out of the hedge and studied the scratches on his arms.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  Willy waved it off. “I’m okay.”

  Julio stared at me.

  “What?” I said. “It’s a black cat.”

  “It was black yesterday, too. And last month and last year. So what?”

  “Well, Rubin said—”

  Julio threw up his hands. “Not Rubin again.”

  “No, but… it’s … well.”

  Willy held his front tire between his legs and straightened out his handlebars. “They must be bad luck. Look how we crashed.”

  “That was Calvin,” Julio spat. “Not the cat!”

  I chewed on my thumbnail and considered the furry black mass lying in the middle of the road. His name was Zippy, but zippy he wasn’t. He was lazy as a slug. Not very smart, either, because any cat that lounges in the middle of the street is looking to get run over by a car.

  “You’re right,” I said, trying to shake Rubin’s warning out of my head. “It’s just superstition.”

  We got back on our bikes and coasted toward Zippy, circling him twice. Zippy stretched, his claws flashing out like knife blades.

  Julio stopped and studied Zippy. “You are the laziest cat I’ve ever seen in my life, no question.”

  I got off my bike and kicked down the stand. “Come on, Zip.” I scooped him up. “You stay out here in the street, some car’s going to flatten you.”

  Zippy purred in my arms. I bet he weighed like a hundred pounds. “You should be out in the jungle chasing down the rodents of Hawaii.”

  Zippy gave me a lazy blink.

  I set him down in the shade of a plumeria tree in Maya’s yard. The grass was warm and soft, way better than the street. “I just don’t want to see you get squashed, okay?”

  Zippy gave me dirty looks.

  I laughed. “You’re something, Zipster.”

  “Laters!” Julio called from the street, heading home.

  Willy jumped on his bike. “Me too.”

  I waved and turned back to Zippy. “Don’t you give me bad luck, now. I did this for your own good. You listening to me, Zip?”

  I scratched under his chin and left when he started purring again. I had no idea what a bad listener Zippy was.

  3

  BOOOOM

  Mom’s car was in the garage when I coasted into our driveway standing on the pedals. I skidded to a stop, dumped my bike on the grass, and went inside.

  “What’s going on?” The screen door slapped behind me.

  Mom and my little sister Darci were in the living room digging into a shopping bag from Macy’s, where Mom worked in the jewelry department.

  Mom looked up, smiled, and laid a silky green dress over the back of the couch. “Hi, sweetie, how was school?”

  “Fine, but why are you home?”

  “Last time I checked, this is where I live.”<
br />
  “Yeah, but you’re supposed to be at work and Darci’s supposed to be at Mrs. Nakashima’s.”

  “I decided to take the day off.”

  I looked at Darci. “I thought you were sick.”

  Darci gave me an excited grin. “We bought a dress for Stella.” I guess shopping cured her.

  Mom picked up the green dress. “Isn’t this stunning, Cal?”

  Stunning? A hurricane is stunning. An explosion is stunning. A car crash. “Yeah, sure. What’s it for?”

  “Stella.”

  “She doesn’t have a dress?”

  “It’s a special dress. A boy asked her to a dance.”

  “No joke?”

  Mom pinched my cheek and kissed my head. “No joke.”

  Stella was almost sixteen and lived with us. She’d come from Texas and had been here about a month. We took her in because Stella’s mom was my mom’s best friend in high school.

  Also, a couple years ago, my dad, now known as Little Johnny Coconut, the kind-of-famous singer, had split from Mom and moved to the mainland, where he lives with his new wife. Now Mom had to work six days a week and she needed help. Stella was it.

  Somewhere down the street I heard the deep, low thumping of a car stereo.

  Boooom … boooom … boooom.

  It was the slow, spooky kind you can hear a mile away.

  “The dance is at the high school,” Mom went on.

  Boooom… boooom… boooom.

  Growing louder. Coming closer.

  “It’s Friday night,” Mom continued. “That’s why Darci and I went shopping.”

  “What?”

  “Are you listening to me, Calvin?”

  The booming radio got louder and louder … then went silent.

  Mom’s eyes shifted.

  Outside, an engine rumbled low.

  Darci ran to the window.

  A car door thumped shut.

  4

  Watermelon

  “Stella’s home!” Darci yelped. I ran up behind her and caught a glimpse of the car just as it pulled away. It rumbled like an army tank and was so low to the ground it could scrape gum off the street. A fat black stripe ran down the middle, front to back, and the car was pink!

  Pink?

  Boooom … boooom … boooom.

  Mom stretched to look over my shoulder, but the car was gone. “Did you see who brought her home?”

  “Some guy in a pink car.”

  “Oooo,” Darci said.

  Stella passed by the window outside, heading to the front door, her books hugged close to her chest. As usual she wore shorts, a tight shirt, and rubber slippers. It was impossible to imagine her in a dress.

  The screen door squeaked open.

  Mom smiled. “Welcome home, Stella.”

  Stella glanced around the room. “What’s wrong? Why are you all here? Did we get robbed?”

  “No, no, everything’s fine.” Mom hurried over and took Stella’s books from her. “Follow me. We have something for you.”

  Darci couldn’t stand it. “Mom got you a dress! Mom got you a dress!” she said, bouncing on her toes.

  Stella’s face lit up. “A dress?”

  “Look.” Mom set the books down and picked up the green dress.

  Stella’s hand flew to her mouth, covering it, as if the dress was the most wonderful sight she’d ever seen.

  Weird.

  “Oh, Angela,” Stella whispered.

  Stella crept over, took the dress from Mom, and held it close. It fell to just above her knees. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Go try it on,” Mom said.

  Stella hurried into her bedroom. Which used to be mine. Which I had to give up when Stella moved in. Which sent me to a room made of half the garage. Which, actually, I liked better. Because who can live in a house with three girls?

  Mom beamed, as pleased as I’d ever seen her.

  Jeese, I thought. Maybe I should try that. Oh, Mom! This new T-shirt. You shouldn’t have!

  Naah.

  Stella came back wearing the new dress and a huge grin. She twirled around. “Like it?”

  Mom’s eyes glossed. “Oh, Stella, you look so beautiful.”

  I gawked. I’d never seen Stella all dressed up. Her blond hair looked blonder. Her eyes twinkled like sequins. She even gave me a small smile. She was a totally different person.

  Darci must have thought so, too, because all she could say was “Wow, wow, wow.”

  Mom put her arm over my shoulder and pulled me close. “What do you think, Cal? Doesn’t she look fabulous?”

  She looked pretty good, all right. The silky smooth dress was the deep green color of a ripe watermelon. It somehow made Stella look like a nice person. “You look like … like … like a watermelon.”

  Darci spurted a laugh.

  Mom covered her mouth, nearly laughing, too.

  Stella’s smile fell off her face. Her lips puckered and a squint shrank her eyes to olive pits.

  What? Did I say something wrong?

  Stella strode over and bent close, hands on her hips, her face inches from mine. “I look like a what?”

  “Uh … a watermelon? You know, green?” What was the big deal?

  “Well, you look like a tree stump.”

  I frowned. So I wasn’t nine feet tall. So what?

  Mom grabbed Stella by the shoulders and spun her around. “Let’s go to my room and see if we can find just the right necklace to go with that dress. Oh my goodness, your mother would be so proud to see you now.”

  “No, she wouldn’t,” Stella whispered, and followed Mom down the hall.

  I turned to Darci and spread my arms. “What’d I do?”

  Darci grinned. “A watermelon?”

  5

  Stump

  I absolutely did not have a problem following Rule Number Five on Mr. Purdy’s list of fourth-grade boot camp rules: Be kind and respectful to others.

  But when it came to Stella, it was really, really, really hard.

  “Well, lookie, lookie,” she said the next morning when I stumbled into the kitchen. “Stump’s up.”

  “Don’t call me Stump,” I mumbled, barely awake.

  Stella was bagging Darci’s school lunch. I put my hand up to shield my eyes from the bright sunlight streaming through the window.

  “What’s wrong with Stump?” Stella said. “It’s a term of endearment, like Little Man or Peewee.”

  “Where’s Mom?”

  “A term of endearment is something nice you … you … ah-choo!… say about someone you like.” She started to sneeze again but pinched her nose to stop it.

  Something nice. Right.

  I frowned and noticed her eyes were kind of puffy. I shrugged and took a bowl and a box of Rice Krispies and sat at the counter. “Watermelon,” I mumbled to myself.

  “Oh,” Stella said, as if she’d just remembered something. “I dropped my hairbrush and it bounced under my bed, and I need somebody really, really short to walk under there and get it for me, can you do that, honey? I’d be forever grateful.”

  “Hardy-har-har.”

  Stella sneezed again. “No, really, what’s it like being a pygmy?”

  “Mom! Stella’s being mean to me!”

  “I’m not being mean, honey. I’m just having some fun with you. Don’t you know what fun is? It’s when people are happy. They laugh and have a good time.”

  She pinched my cheek.

  I jerked away. “Weirdo.”

  Stella smiled. “I feel good today.”

  “Why?”

  “A stump would never understand.”

  “Don’t call me Stump!”

  “Stump. Peewee. Pygmy. Pip-squeak. Squirt. Half-pint. Elfie. Runt. Shrimp. Shorty. Midget. Which one works for you?”

  “Mom!”

  “She can’t hear you. She’s getting ready for work.”

  I turned my back on Stella and reached into the cereal box for a handful of Rice Krispies. I was too tired to get the milk.


  “Don’t stick your filthy hands in there!” Stella snapped. “Other people eat Rice Krispies, too, you know.”

  Darci came blinking into the sunny kitchen and sat on the stool next to me. She was still in her pajamas. Pillow marks crisscrossed her cheek.

  Stella slapped a bowl, a spoon, and a carton of milk in front of her. “Eat like a human being, not like your brother, the monkey.”

  Darci yawned and stretched. “Where’s Mom?”

  “Right here,” Mom said, hurrying into the kitchen. “And as usual, I’m running late. Stella, will you … What happened to your eyes? Are your allergies acting up again?”

  Stella sneezed. “No … I don’t think so.”

  “Have you been around any cats?”

  My ears perked up. Cats?

  Stella shook her head.

  Mom waved it off. “Your eyes are a little puffy, that’s all. Anyway, will you see that Calvin and Darci leave for school in about ten minutes?”

  “Sure.”

  Mom grabbed a brown-spotted banana and headed for the door. She stopped and looked back. “So, Stella… I’m curious … what’s his name?”

  “Who?”

  “The new guy?”

  Yeah, I thought. What kind of name would a pink-car guy have?

  Stella hesitated. “It’s … Clarence.”

  Mom cocked her head. “Now, that’s a name you don’t hear too often.”

  “He’s a senior.”

  “Well, I’m looking forward to meeting him.” Mom blew us a kiss and left.

  I turned to Stella. “Who’s Clarence?”

  “Who’s short?”

  All that day at school it was like a Stella chant running through my head: Stump, Pygmy, Peewee. Stump, Pygmy, Peewee. I had to stop this short stuff before it got out of hand and spread to school. I could almost hear big sixth-grade bully Tito Andrade and his friend Frankie Diamond shouting, “Hey, Coco-stump! Howzit?

  Whatchoo say, Coco-short, can I use your head for an armrest? Bwahahahaha!”

  Dumb Stella. It just wasn’t right.

  And that night she kept on teasing me.

  By the next morning I’d had enough.