Fake Snakes and Weird Wizards #4

by Henry Winkler

  To my hero, Daniel Silva—a friend and writer of great adventures. And to Stacey, always—HW

  For Tyler, Gregory, and Alex King . . . childhood and forever friends—LO

  For my wonderful Nan, my earliest fan!—SG

  GROSSET & DUNLAP Published by the Penguin Group Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

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  Text copyright © 2015 by Henry Winkler and Lin Oliver Productions, Inc. Illustrations copyright © 2015 by Scott Garrett. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York, 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

  ISBN 978-0-698-19882-1

  Version_1

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  “Hank!” my sister, Emily, yelled, as she ran up to me and grabbed my arm. “You have to come meet Ginger. She’s the cutest snake I’ve ever seen.”

  “Emily,” I said, “long slimy reptiles with no eyelids or ears are not cute. They’re creepy.”

  “Ginger’s not slimy. Her skin is dry. Come pet her.”

  “I don’t pet snakes, or anything else that could eat me whole for lunch.”

  Our family was spending the morning at the West End Avenue street fair. The whole block was lined with booths selling everything from blueberry muffins to tube socks. Leave it to Emily to find the one snake booth. That girl can sniff out a reptile better than my dog, Cheerio, can sniff out a hunk of pot roast under the dining-room table.

  Ignoring Emily, I headed for a booth that was selling cool comic books. Emily stood there and stomped her foot.

  “Mom! Dad!” she whined. “This isn’t fair. We just spent twenty minutes waiting for Hank to taste every flavor of ice cream when we knew he was going to pick cherry-vanilla all along. Now the family should do something I want to do.”

  “Emily has a good point, Hank,” my mom said. “I think we should all go say hello to Ginger the snake.”

  “Fine,” I muttered. “But I’m not touching her with any part of my body. I will use my eyes and that’s it.”

  We walked over to a large purple sign that read RALPH’S REPTILE SHOW. Under the sign, there was a table with some reptiles displayed in different kinds of glass tanks. A giant tortoise was sitting in the middle of the table. And when I say giant, I mean giant. That guy’s shell was as big as my bathroom sink. In front of the table was Ralph himself, with a long orange, yellow, and black striped snake wrapped around his arm.

  “There’s Ginger!” Emily screamed.

  “Hi, Emily,” Ralph said. “Oh, I see you’ve brought your family over to meet Ginger.”

  “They’re all so excited to get to know her,” Emily said, reaching out to stroke Ginger’s long back.

  “Make that all but one of us,” I added quickly. “I hope this doesn’t hurt your feelings, Ralph, but I’m not a big snake petter.”

  “Well, then maybe I can interest you in Clive, my snow leopard gecko,” Ralph said. “Or Boris, my adorable blue-tailed skink.”

  Okay, I don’t even know what a skink is. But it sounds too close to “stink” for me to even consider petting it.

  Ralph was wearing a tan floppy hat that looked like his head had sweated in it for at least a hundred years. He had on a brown shirt and shorts, brown construction boots, and a shirt with a million pockets and zippers. Maybe that’s where he keeps his skinks.

  “Is that tortoise even alive?” I asked Ralph. “He’s not moving.”

  “You mean Speedy?” Ralph petted the tortoise’s bumpy head with two fingers. “He’s probably just thinking about the lettuce leaf he had for lunch. If you want a little more excitement, you should get to know Ginger. She’s a hoot.”

  Ralph moved his arm so that Ginger’s face was very close to my nose. Maybe it wasn’t very close, but it was close enough for me to jump way back.

  “Look at Hank,” Emily laughed. “Afraid of a little snake.”

  “I’m not afraid, exactly,” I told her. “I just don’t happen to love snakes the same way you do. Maybe I’m not an animal person.”

  “You love Cheerio, don’t you?”

  “Of course. But Cheerio’s a dog, which means you can play ball with him. And take him for a walk. Last time I checked, they don’t make leashes for snakes.”

  “Snakes are very sweet in their own way,” Ralph said. “Take Ginger, for instance. She’s a mud snake. She loves children. She’s a big hit at kids’ birthday parties.”

  “Wow,” Emily said. “I wish she could come to mine. It’s coming up soon. I already sent out the invitations and everything.”

  Ralph reached down to the stack of brochures he had on the table and handed my dad one.

  “I bring my reptile show to lots of kids’ birthday parties,” he said. “And I’d be happy to come to Emily’s.”

  “That’s a deal!” Emily said. “I’m going to call everyone I’ve invited and let them know that there’s a new theme to my party. Everybody else has a princess dress-up party. Nobody has had snakes before.”

  “That’s because kids don’t like attending birthday parties with creatures whose jaws unlock so they can swallow the birthday cake whole,” I said.

  “I don’t care what you think, Hank. It’s my party.”

  “Hold up there, Emily,” my dad said, putting the brochure in his coat pocket. “We have a lot to discuss here.”

  “And we should do that on the way home,” my mom said, taking Emily’s hand to lead her away from Ralph.

  “See you soon,” Emily called out to Ralph. “Tell Ginger I’ll make a special party hat for her.”

  “We’ll have to see about that,” my dad whispered to Ralph.

  “I understand,” Ralph answered. “My phone number is on the brochure. Let me know as soon as you decide, because Ginger is a very popular snake.”

  As we walked up 78th Street to our apartment, Emily didn’t stop jabbering for a minute. My dad was just the opposite. He was quiet. His eyebrows were all wrinkled and his mouth was turned down into a frown.

  “Look, Emily,” my dad said when we reached our building. “I don’t want to disappoint you, but we can’t have Ralph’s Reptile Show at your party. I glanced at the prices, and it’s too expensive for us.”

  Emily stopped in her tracks and so did her mouth. She stared at my dad like he had just told her t
he sky was falling.

  “But, Daddy,” she cried. “I’m only going to turn seven once in my life.”

  “Well, sweetie,” my mom said, “we can still have a nice party for you.”

  Emily’s eyes filled with tears. She pulled open the front door and ran through the hallway to the elevator. I saw her pushing the elevator button like she was hammering a nail with her thumb. I felt sorry for the elevator button, and my mom felt sorry for Emily.

  “She wants that party so badly,” she whispered to my dad.

  “I wish we could afford it,” he said. “But we can’t.”

  We rode up the elevator in silence, except for the sound of Emily sniffling. When we got to our apartment, my dad opened the door, and Cheerio came running out to greet us. Even his wagging tail didn’t cheer Emily up. As I petted Cheerio, I remembered how Emily had stood up for me when I wanted to keep him, and my dad had said no. Suddenly, I felt something surprising in the pit of my stomach, and it had nothing to do with wanting a pepperoni pizza.

  What I wanted was to help my sister. Now, how weird is that?

  As soon as we got into our apartment, Emily ran to her room and slammed the door. I followed her and stood patiently outside of it, knocking until my knuckles hurt. She never said “Come in” or “Go away.”

  “Emily!” I called. “Open the door. I have a great idea about your party.”

  “Oh really? And what is your great idea, as if you could have one?”

  “Open the door and I’ll tell you.”

  I heard her walking across the carpet, then the door opened a crack.

  “What?” she said.

  “Well,” I began. “You want a snake at your party, right?”

  “Duh.”

  “So all you have to do is produce one out of thin air. Problem solved.”

  I smiled my best Hank Zipzer smile, giving her a touch of the old Zipzer attitude. It didn’t work. She didn’t buy it for one minute.

  “Hank,” she said. “That is the craziest thing you’ve ever said. Snakes don’t appear out of thin air. Now stop bugging me.”

  She started to close the door, but before she could, I stuck my foot in the doorway to block it. I knew I had to come up with a plan she’d believe. Unfortunately, I didn’t have one. But to my surprise, when I opened my mouth, this is what came out.

  “Snakes do appear out of thin air,” I said. “If you know the right people. And I do.”

  “Who?” she asked.

  I opened my mouth again, and this time, an even bigger surprise was waiting on my tongue.

  “The Westside Wizard,” I said. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him. His specialty is pulling snakes out of thin air and twirling them above his head. They get a little dizzy, but they love it because it makes kids happy.”

  Emily looked at me suspiciously.

  “And how do you know this Westside Wizard?” she asked. “I’ve never heard of him.”

  “Emily, you may have forgotten, but I’m in the second grade. We second-graders know all kinds of things you little first-graders don’t.”

  “You don’t know how to subtract, and I do,” Emily pointed out.

  “Okay, fine,” I told her. “You can talk about math all you want. I’ll just call the wizard and tell him you’re not interested in having him come to your party.”

  “No, no. Don’t do that, Hank. Do you think he’d really come? The party’s only a week away.”

  I gave her that Zipzer smile again.

  “He will if I ask him,” I said with confidence. Let me just say right here, I have no idea where that confidence was coming from. I had never heard of the Westside Wizard. It was just something that fell out of my mouth.

  I noticed that Emily was smiling. And it was the same excited smile she’d had at Ralph’s booth at the street fair.

  “Hank! You are the best big brother in the world.”

  She reached out and gave me a giant hug. Right in the middle of it, we both realized that this was weird. First of all, we don’t hug. And second of all, she grabbed me so suddenly that her braids slapped me in the face. The hug stopped almost as soon as it started, which was just fine with me.

  Emily rushed past me and ran into the living room.

  “Where are you going?” I shouted.

  “To call all the friends I invited and tell them about the Westside Wizard. This is going to be the best birthday party they’ve ever been to.”

  On the one hand, it was good to see Emily so excited.

  On the other hand, I had gotten myself into a giant pickle. Actually, make that a whole jar of pickles. Who was this Westside Wizard I had just made up? And where was I going to find him? And even if I did find him, how was he going to pull a snake out of thin air?

  Those are good questions, I said to myself.

  Now all I needed were some good answers.

  When I get myself into trouble, there are only two ways out, and their names are Frankie Townsend and Ashley Wong. I can’t tell you how many times my two best friends have saved me from disaster. Like the time I spilled glue, and my fingers got so stuck together, I couldn’t even pick up a pencil. I thought I was going to have to take my spelling test holding the pencil in my mouth, until Frankie and Ashley pulled me to the sink in the back of the room. I didn’t know that soaking your hands in warm water would melt the glue away. Too bad they couldn’t take my spelling test for me, because as it turned out, I flunked it.

  So as Emily called her friends, my only thought was to call Frankie and Ashley.

  “Emergency meeting in the clubhouse,” I said into the phone. “Now.”

  Five minutes later, the three of us were in the basement storage room we call our clubhouse. I started to tell them what happened, talking a mile a minute.

  “Wait a minute, Zip,” Frankie interrupted. “You told your sister what?”

  “And you said you knew who?” Ashley chimed in.

  “You heard me,” I told them, trying to appear like I knew what I was doing. “What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal,” Frankie said, “is that—one—there is no such person as the Westside Wizard.”

  “And two,” Ashley added, “even if he did exist, he couldn’t pull a snake out of thin air. No one can.”

  “But there actually is a Westside Wizard,” I explained. “You’re looking at him.”

  I held my arms out and bowed. Frankie shook his head.

  “Uh-oh,” Frankie said. “Here comes one of Hank’s totally crazy plans.”

  “You know how to pull scarves out of a top hat, right?” I began. “You can teach me that trick. Then all we have to do is tie a snake to the end of the scarves. Ba-boom, it’s magic.”

  “Where are we supposed to get this snake?” Ashley asked. “In the snake aisle at the ninety-nine-cent store?”

  “Great idea, Ashweena!” I said. “They actually have rubber snakes there. We’ll go and pick one that looks really real, like with a forked tongue and everything.”

  “Well, even if we do find a real-looking snake,” Ashley said, “you still have to figure out a way to look like a wizard. You’re not exactly a Harry Potter lookalike.”

  “You can help me make a costume,” I said to her. “You’re good at that.”

  I could see that this idea interested Ashley. She pushed her glasses back on her nose and twirled her ponytail. She does that when she’s thinking.

  “Well, you’d need a great costume so Emily doesn’t recognize you,” she said. “A wizard hat and robe, a big long beard, and maybe some sunglasses that cover up most of your face.”

  “And I can change my voice so that it sounds all deep and old and wizardy.” I was starting to love this idea. I switched into my best wizard voice. “Behold, with a wave of my arms, I will cast a powerful spell on you,” I gr
owled.

  “You sound like a frog with a cold,” Frankie said.

  “Okay, maybe my wizard voice isn’t great now, but I can work on it. I’ll study old Mizbam the Mighty cartoons.”

  Suddenly, Frankie’s eyes lit up.

  “My big brother Otis went to his sixth-grade Halloween parade as Mizbam the Mighty,” he said. “I’ll bet my mom packed his costume away in one of these boxes. It would be perfect for you!”

  We jumped up and started reading the labels of all the cardboard boxes that lined the shelves of the storage room. Summer clothes. Stuffed animals. Pots and pans. Soccer trophies. Finally, we came to one labeled OTIS. We pulled it down and took off the top. Frankie searched the box, sorting through some baby pictures of Otis. Then he picked up one and burst out laughing.

  “Don’t tell Otis,” he howled, “but here he is lying on a furry rug, with his naked butt sticking up in the air.”

  Ashley and I cracked up.

  “Oh, here’s what we’re looking for,” Frankie said, reaching way down to the bottom of the carton. He pulled out a pointed hat and a black robe with shiny silver stars. There was even a long white beard made out of cotton balls glued together.

  “It’s perfect,” Ashley said. “Try it on, Hank.”

  I slipped the robe over my head. Otis is tall, so the robe was very long on me. The arms almost touched the ground. When I slipped the beard around my ears, the end of it went down to my belly button.

  “Looks good,” Frankie said, “but I still know it’s you.”

  “We need dark glasses,” Ashley suggested, “to cover the rest of your face.”

  She looked over the boxes and found one labeled MRS. FINK’S VACATION ITEMS. Inside, she found a large polka-dot bathing suit, lots of flowered sun hats, and a hot-pink pair of sunglasses covered with rhinestones.

  “Oh no, I’m not wearing those,” I said.

  “Well, you can hope Emily doesn’t recognize you,” Ashley said with a shrug. “But I think she will, because I can.”