Rocket Ride

by Graham Salisbury

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2012 by Graham Salisbury

  Cover art and interior illustrations copyright © 2012 by Jacqueline Rogers

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Wendy Lamb Books, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  Wendy Lamb Books and the colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Salisbury, Graham.

  Calvin Coconut : Rocket ride / by Graham Salisbury; illustrations by Jacqueline Rogers. — 1st ed.

  p. cm.

  Summary: New fears for fourth-grader Calvin include a school bully named Tito and the return of his estranged father, rock star Little Johnny Coconut.

  eISBN: 978-0-385-37024-0

  [1. Bullies—Fiction. 2. Fathers—Fiction. 3. Schools—Fiction. 4. Hawaii—Fiction.]

  I. Rogers, Jacqueline, ill. II. Title. III. Title: Rocket ride.

  PZ7.S15225Cadp 2012

  [Fic]—dc23

  2011043612

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment

  and celebrates the right to read.

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  1: Hamajang

  2: The Incident

  3: Mouse

  4: Bulldozing Rice

  5: Johnny at the Concert Hall

  6: Tickets

  7: Talking to a Centipede

  8: A Promise Is a Promise

  9: Bazookalolo Weird

  10: We’re Going to Miss You

  11: Scarfing the Cone

  12: Little Johnny Coconut

  13: Marissa

  14: A Good Day to Die

  15: Big Fat Mess

  16: Shayla’s Place

  17: Speechless

  18: Ooo-La-La

  19: Lovey’s Power

  20: Rocket Ride

  21: Falling Star

  22: Tito’s Gift

  About the Author

  Boy, was everything all hamajang.

  That means totally mixed up.

  It was a hot Sunday afternoon, and I was sitting in a shady grove of ironwood trees at Kailua Beach Park watching an ant crawl over my toe. I thought of squishing it, but my friend Julio once said if you’re mean and kill a bug you could come back in your next life as a bug yourself, and someone could squish you!

  Scoot, ant. I don’t want to get squished.

  “Probably you don’t either, huh?” I looked up to see if anyone was around to hear me talking to an ant.

  Luckily, no one was.

  I brushed the ant away with my finger.

  Down in the small waves that slapped up on the beach a bazillion kids were shrieking in the sun.

  My little sister, Darci, was one of them.

  But not me.

  Because everything was hamajang.

  My dad was coming to town!

  In less than two weeks!

  Mom had told me and Darci about it the night before. She’d just heard about it herself.

  None of us had seen Dad since he and Mom split up four years ago. He’d moved away, gotten married again, and was a rock-and-roll entertainer in Las Vegas, Nevada. The last time I saw him was at the airport. He was carrying his guitar case, with LITTLE JOHNNY COCONUT painted on it in silver. He knelt down and looked at me. “I’m going to see you often, Calvin. Count on it.”

  “Okay.” It was all I could think of.

  “I love you, son.”

  Then he was gone.

  That was four years ago. We hadn’t seen him since. He did call once in a while, and he sent stuff, like birthday presents and postcards. But we hadn’t seen him.

  Now he was heading to Honolulu with his band—Little Johnny Coconut, touring with his new CD, Rocket Ride. Dad had made sure ­Hawaii was on the schedule because he wanted to see us.

  And I was scared.

  There.

  I said it.

  Sure, I was excited, too, and I wanted to see him like crazy. I couldn’t think of anything else.

  But suddenly I had all these questions.

  What was he like now? What was his new wife, Marissa, like? Would he still like me? Would she like me? What would I say to him? What would he say to me … or Darci … or Mom?

  Jeese.

  “Calvin!” Darci shouted from down by the water. “Catch!”

  I grabbed my Styrofoam bodyboard and held it up just as the hard sand ball she’d made hit with a thunk.

  She plopped back down and dug up more wet sand to start building another one. She probably wasn’t worrying about seeing Dad. She was only three when he left. How much could she even remember?

  It was different for me. I could ­remember lots. Like how quiet our house was after we got back from the airport, and for weeks after that. Mom tried to smile a lot, but you could tell she was thinking about stuff.

  After a few months it got better. Mom met Ledward, and Dad did call us once in a while. So we all sort of figured it out.

  I stood and headed down to the water. The ocean was as warm as a bathtub.

  Mom was at work, selling jewelry at Macy’s in Honolulu.

  So Stella took us to the beach.

  Stella was sixteen and lived with us as Mom’s helper. She didn’t like the beach because she burned easily. But today she’d ­invited her boyfriend, Clarence, to come along. “Watch your sister,” Stella said to me, slapping sunscreen on Darci’s cheeks, then her own.

  She tossed the sunscreen to me.

  Darci went back to digging in the sand, and Stella headed down the beach with Clarence.

  Another sand ball came flying in and whacked my back, followed by Darci’s shriek of laughter.

  “Got you!”

  “Yeah, you did, you little pest.”

  She ran up to me. “Make one, Calvin, and throw it at me.”

  I half-laughed. “Naah. No fun.”

  “No fun? You make the best sand balls of anyone.”

  “Aren’t you thinking about Dad coming to town, Darce?”

  She shrugged. “No.”

  “Well, I am, and I can’t stop thinking.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. But … he’s coming.” Just saying that made my stomach get butterflies.

  Darci smoothed the sand ball with her hands. “He’s kind of famous now.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I like his new song. It was on the radio.”

  “It was?”

  “Stella heard it and came to get me. You weren’t home.”

  Small waves ran up over my feet and sucked sand out from under them when they went back out. Coming and going. Like Dad. Anyway, I couldn’t believe he had another song on the radio. Wow.

  “So, what do you think Marissa’s like, Darce?”

  “Nice. Probably.”

  “What do you think she looks like?”

  Darci tilted her head. “Stella?”

  “That would be unfortunate.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing.”

  What did Marissa look like? I’d seen a picture of her once, but she was really small in it. She and Dad were at a lake in some desert. There weren’t any trees around.
>
  Darci sat and started making a sand castle, so I took my bodyboard into the water and caught a couple of waves. But it wasn’t much fun, so I went back into the grove of trees.

  When Stella wandered back with Clarence, she stopped and looked at me. “Why aren’t you in the water?”

  I shrugged.

  Clarence smiled at me. He was a really big guy, a senior at Kailua High School. “He’s thinking about his pop,” he said.

  Stella looked back at me. “Is that right, Stump?”

  “Don’t call me Stump!”

  “Well, are you?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Stella’s face was as red as a boiled lobster. Too much sun.

  She humphed. “He calls you, doesn’t he?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So what’s the big deal?”

  She grabbed Clarence’s hand and pulled him up to where their stuff was. She glanced over her shoulder, as if she wanted to say more, but didn’t.

  The next day at school my hamajang life got worse.

  Even as kids were still pouring off the school buses, a crowd was growing behind the cafeteria. Something big was up.

  I ran over and elbowed in next to my friends Julio, Willy, Rubin, and Maya.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered to Julio.

  “Tito was teasing Shayla.”

  “Why?”

  “Shhh. Watch. Lovey’s mad.”

  Lovey Martino, a sixth grader, was standing in the middle of the crowd, face to face with Tito Sinbad Andrade, the biggest, toughest kid in school. Tito’s two friends, Frankie Diamond and Bozo, were watching, looking amused.

  “Lovey’s mad about Shayla?”

  “Shhh!”

  Shayla sat next to me in Mr. Purdy’s class. Tito never bothered with fourth-grade girls. Yet Shayla was hiding behind Lovey with tears running down her cheeks.

  “Ho,” I whispered. I’d never seen Shayla cry. It made me feel bad.

  Lovey stood inches from Tito. Her hands were balled into fists, and she was squinting up at him.

  “Little lady,” Tito said, grinning down at her. “You know you’re the love of my life, right?”

  “Yeah, well, you’re the creep of mine.”

  Frankie Diamond spurted out a laugh.

  Most of the guys in school looked like mice next to Tito. They felt like mice, too. Tito, Frankie Diamond, and Bozo were all sixth graders, and sixth graders ruled ­Kailua El.

  Lovey poked Tito’s chest with a finger. “What are you, Sinbad, some kind of big boy or something? Is that what you think you are? Listen to this: Leave that girl alone.”

  Ho! She knew his middle name and used it! If we did that he’d grind us into cat food and stuff us in a can.

  Tito held up his hands. “Me? What I did?”

  “You know what you did, you big bully. You made fun of her shirt. Look at her.

  She’s crying.”

  Tito glanced at Shayla. “So?”

  “So this,” Lovey said, raising her fist. “Next time you mess with her I got a knuckle sandwich for you. Pow!”

  Tito turned to Frankie and Bozo. “Look how much she loves me.”

  Lovey spat in the dirt. “Yeah … like I love boogers under my desk.”

  Frankie Diamond cracked up.

  Tito grinned while Shayla wiped her tears with the palm of her hand. Dumb Tito.

  Then I saw it. Oh no—

  Shayla was wearing a Little Johnny Coconut T‑shirt.

  That’s what Tito was teasing her about?

  Did she wear that shirt to school because of me? I knew she liked me, but…

  I didn’t want to know.

  “Look at that shirt,” Tito said, pointing to Shayla. “Stupit. Little Johnny Coconut’s music stinks.”

  Hey! I thought.

  Lovey didn’t budge.

  Julio, Willy, Rubin, and Maya all turned to look at me.

  I squinted at Tito, mad. But I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to get in trouble.

  Lovey poked Tito again. “If she likes it she can wear it. And I like that shirt, too. What do you think about that, fool?”

  “I think maybe you and me go beach, ah? Bring some soda pops and have a picnic.”

  Lovey shoved him. “Go back under your rock.”

  Lovey put her arm around Shayla and they headed toward the classrooms.

  “Wow,” Maya whispered. “Go, Lovey!”

  Tito turned to glare at us. “Whatchoo punks looking at?”

  Like cock-a-roaches, we ran.

  My desk was by the window in the front row. Shayla sat next to me on the right. Almost always she drew weird pictures of toads or bothered me with questions before our teacher, Mr. Purdy, got started.

  But now she sat staring at her desk with her Little Johnny Coconut T‑shirt turned inside out.

  I felt like a slug. I should have said something, like Lovey did. What Tito did was mean, and I wanted to tell Shayla that I liked her shirt, and that I should have stood up to Tito, too.

  But I sat at my desk like the silent coward

  I was.

  Dumb Tito.

  “I guess you saw what happened before the bell,” Shayla said without looking at me.

  “What? Oh … uh, yeah.”

  “I’m sorry he said what he did about your dad’s music.”

  I looked at Shayla.

  “It doesn’t stink,” she added, glancing over at me. “I like it.”

  I nodded. “Uh …”

  What a mouse. I couldn’t even stand up for my own dad’s music.

  “I’m really sorry I wore this shirt, Calvin. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  Embarrass me?

  “That’s all right,” I mumbled.

  “No, it’s not.”

  I frowned at the terrarium on Mr. Purdy’s desk, which was right in front of me. Manly Stanley, our class pet centipede, was squinting at me, like, If you think you’re a coward I have news for you—you are.

  I looked at my desk. Someone before me had gouged Mickey Mouse into the wood.

  That’s what I was. A mouse.

  When I looked up, even Manly Stanley had turned his back on me.

  Later, at lunch, I was sitting across from Julio, Willy, and Rubin in the cafeteria when something wet hit the back of my neck.

  “Ack!” I reached back to touch it.

  It was white bread soaked in water, or at least I hoped it was water, not spit. I turned around.

  Tito spread his hands as if to say, I didn’t do it.

  Right.

  “Dumb Tito,” I mumbled. I wiped my neck with my napkin. “Watch him, okay? Tell me if he’s getting ready to throw something again.”

  “Okay, but—”

  Another piece of wet bread hit my head.

  “Cut it out, Tito!”

  I stood and shook it from my hair. So gross.

  “Cut it out, Tito,” Bozo echoed in a squeaky voice. What was he, Tito’s parrot?

  “I’m out of here,” I said, picking up my lunch tray. “See you guys outside.”

  Julio, Willy, and Rubin got up with me.

  “Cut it out, Tito,” Bozo squeaked again as we headed over to dump our trays.

  Dingbat.

  We went out to the schoolyard. The sun felt good.

  “Why’s he suddenly a bigger idiot than usual?” Julio said.

  I shrugged. “Maybe he’s flunking sixth grade.”

  “Never,” Julio said. “You think his teacher wants him in her class for another year?”

  “Good point.”

  We found some shade under a tree and sat.

  “I wanna go for a rocket ride, / This stupid song makes my brain cells die,” Tito sang, strolling our way with his dumb friends.

  “He’s got brain cells?” Julio said, low.

  A laugh burst from my mouth.

  “Rocket Ride” was my dad’s new song. And those weren’t the words.

  “Leave us alone, Tito,” I said, trying to lo
ok serious.

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so.”

  Jeese! Why’d I say that?

  I felt my friends tense up.

  “Well, now.” Tito squatted down next to me. “Because you said so?”

  He looked up at Bozo. “What should I do about this?”

  “Take um out back and school um.”

  Tito nodded.

  Frankie Diamond shook his head. “Come on, Tito. Leave them alone. They just little guys.”

  Tito turned back to me. “You need to get schooled, Coco-punk?”

  “Uh … no.”

  “Huh.”

  Bozo grinned, showing his crooked teeth.

  “Bozo thinks you do.” Tito stood. “Let’s go. Get up.”

  I didn’t move.

  “He doesn’t have to,” Julio said, getting up.

  Thank you, Julio!

  “Yeah? Well, guess what. I going school the both of you.” Tito stared at Willy and Rubin. “Should I make it four?”

  Willy frowned. “Guess so.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Rubin said.

  “Ha!” Frankie Diamond coughed. “The little bugs got guts!”

  Tito glared at us.

  I stopped breathing.

  Then he broke out his big grin. “Little dudes, how can I beat you up? Like Frankie said, you got guts, and you gotta respect that. Who needs trouble with the principal, anyways? Bye, stinkbugs.”

  They slouched away.

  I didn’t have guts.

  But my friends sure did.

  “Thanks for standing up for me, guys. I lost my mind there for a second.”

  Julio grinned. “I didn’t stand up for you. I stood up to run.”

  I shoved him and we laughed. “You punk,” I said.

  After school I got Darci from her first-grade classroom and started to walk home.

  Julio, Willy, Rubin, and Maya waited for us in the field behind the school, like always, but I told them to go on without us. “I have to ask Mr. Purdy something.”

  “We can wait,” Maya said.

  “No-no, go home. I’ll catch up.”

  That wasn’t true, but I just didn’t feel like talking.

  “Come on,” I said to Darci, heading over to my classroom.

  But before we got there I stopped and looked back. My friends were out of sight, so I turned around and headed home again—only slowly so we wouldn’t catch up.