Tito the Bonecrusher

by Melissa Thomson

  Louisa was going to let us out of the box when the women’s bathroom was empty, but we had been waiting a long time.

  “I think Louisa is leaving us in here just to mess with us,” I whispered to Popcorn.

  Just then I heard a squeak at the top of the box as the hinge opened. I turned my head as much as possible and saw light above.

  “Get out,” Louisa said flatly. “The coast is clear or whatever.”

  Popcorn and I tried to get out of the box as quickly as possible, but we had totally stiffened up from being crammed in there for so long.

  “Come on,” Louisa muttered. “You know one of these rich ladies is going to have to go to the bathroom soon.”

  “Aaaah!” I heard Popcorn scream as I was trying to drag my numb legs out of the box. I looked around and saw what had made him holler: The head of the Mr. Jiggly Fluff costume was sitting on the floor beside the toilet.

  “Sorry,” Popcorn whispered. “It surprised me.”

  Popcorn’s hair was sticking up all over the place. His suit was hopelessly wrinkled, and I was sure mine was, too.

  “Follow me,” Louisa said, sounding as bored as ever.

  She led us out of the bathroom stall, pushed open the main door to the bathroom, and glanced from side to side.

  “Go,” she said.

  Popcorn practically ran out the door.

  “Well, thanks,” I said to Louisa.

  “Don’t get caught,” she said.

  I tried to play it cool as I followed Popcorn down the short hallway to the big room where the gala was being held. “Holy moly!” I screeched when I walked into the ballroom. The room was totally sparkly and filled with people.

  “Spaghetti-O, CHCH,” I heard in my ear, “we forgot to talk about your cover CHCH.” Brain’s voice was cutting in and out again. “If anyone asks why you’re there, tell them that you’re pi-CHHH.” Her voice was replaced by total static.

  Popcorn pointed to the left, where three ladies with fancy hairdos were sitting behind a long table. On the table there were little folded cards with words printed on them. “I think that’s where we get our table assignment,” Popcorn said.

  I followed Popcorn to the table.

  “Don’t you two boys look so handsome!” the lady in the middle said.

  Popcorn gawked at her. “Wow, you have a lot of diamonds in your earrings,” he said. “They must have been expensive!”

  The woman looked a little embarrassed.

  “Never mind him,” I told her, and gave her this fancy-party smile I had practiced in front of a mirror as part of signature move #1 (Project confidence). After moving into Carl’s neighborhood and changing schools, I’d learned pretty quickly that talking to a rich person is like facing down a wild bear. If you meet a bear in the woods, you should never act all nervous and skittish, or they’ll sniff you out as a human in about two seconds. Instead, you’re supposed to stand your ground and act bigger than you are. Then the bear will think you’re another bear and leave you alone. Same goes for rich people. You have to either convince them you’re one of them or convince them you don’t care. You can’t act nervous or they’ll tear you apart. It can be exhausting, but you want to survive, don’t you?

  Anyway, I projected confidence and gave our names to the rich ladies. At least, I gave them the names that Sharon had added to the list for the place cards.

  “Here you go, Paul Popcorn and Oliver … Spaghetti? Well, those are certainly unusual last names,” the lady on the left said. “You’re both at table seventeen.”

  “Rich people don’t like for you to ask if things are expensive,” I advised Popcorn as we walked away from the place-card table. “They think it’s tacky to say things are expensive.”

  “So they want us to think their stuff is cheap?” Popcorn asked. We walked past some tuxedoed guys holding snacks on silver trays, just like in the movies.

  “No, you’re supposed to know it’s expensive but not talk about it.” I was surprised Popcorn didn’t know this stuff. After all, he goes to Haselton Academy. Then I realized his dad probably wasn’t really on the rich-people scene.

  “Oh,” Popcorn said.

  We reached our table. Table 17 was near the back of the ballroom. I had asked Sharon if she could put us at Tito’s table or even at the table next to him. “Are you serious?” She had looked at me like I’d asked for a seat in Tito’s lap. “That would make it thoroughly obvious that you aren’t supposed to be there. They would catch you in about five seconds. I’m putting you at table seventeen, and it’s up to you to find Tito and get his autograph.”

  Popcorn and I decided to put our place cards down at our table before walking around to find Tito. An old lady and an old man were already sitting at table 17. Popcorn and I introduced ourselves. The old lady’s name was Gwen, and the old man’s name was Something. I didn’t really listen to his name because Gwen asked us a question while the old man was introducing himself.

  “You look familiar,” Gwen said to me. “Do I know you?”

  I looked at her carefully. She looked like a standard old lady to me. Gray hair, wrinkles, nice big old-lady smile. “No, ma’am,” I said. “I don’t think so.”

  Gwen looked from me to Popcorn. “What brings you here tonight? Are your parents with you, dears?” she said.

  “Welllll,” I said. I wasn’t sure how to answer. I can’t believe we hadn’t thought about how to answer these kinds of questions. Of course people would wonder why two eleven-year-olds were wandering around a fancy party alone. We should have spent more time thinking about cover stories and less time buying spy equipment at Radio Hut.

  Gwen was watching me carefully.

  “Oh, our parents love Tito the Bonecrusher,” I said, which wasn’t a lie.

  Popcorn stared at Gwen. I’m guessing he didn’t know what to add, so I just kept talking.

  “What brings you here tonight, ma’am?” I asked Gwen.

  “Ma’am! Don’t you have such nice manners?” Gwen beamed at me. “I’m here because my dear friend from the garden club encouraged all of us to buy tickets. She is receiving an award for her charitable donations.”

  Gwen sounded just like Granny Janet, talking about the garden club and charitable donations. Good grief. They could be best friends.

  Wait. Granny Janet.

  “Um, what’s your friend’s name from the garden club?” I asked.

  “Janet Wyatt,” Gwen said, and smiled at me. “I thought she would be at this table, but I think she’s sitting near the stage.”

  I stared at Gwen, and my eyes must have been as wide as silver dollars.

  She didn’t seem to notice. “What grade are you boys in?” she asked.

  This time, Popcorn was the one who projected confidence. “It sure is swell to meet you folks,” he said, nodding to both Gwen and Something. “Will you excuse us?” He grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me away from the table.

  “What’s wrong, Spaghetti-O?” he asked me when we were a few tables away.

  I finally blinked. “Janet Wyatt is Granny Janet, my step-grandma,” I whispered. Between me trying to rescue my dad and Popcorn trying to meet his hero, I had completely forgotten that Granny Janet would be at the gala. I had forgotten, even though Granny Janet was the reason we’d found out about the gala in the first place. “She’s here somewhere.” I looked around frantically. Where was she? Had she already seen me?

  “That’s great!” Popcorn brightened. “She can introduce us to Tito!”

  “No way!” I hissed. Granny Janet would probably turn us over to the police for trespassing.

  I looked toward the tables close to the stage at the front of the ballroom, and it took me only about two seconds to spot Granny Janet. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed her before. She was wearing a bright green dress with about a million ruffles, and she had on a little hat with a huge peacock feather sticking up out of it. I turned around so she’d only see my back if she looked in my direction. “She’s at the front,” I
told Popcorn. “In the green dress. And the feather hat.”

  Popcorn craned his neck. “That’s your GRANNY?” he said, amazed.

  I nodded.

  “Oh wow,” Popcorn said. “Okay, let’s go find Tito.”

  “I can’t go yet,” I told him, my back still to Granny Janet. “I can’t let her see me.”

  Popcorn craned his neck again to look at Granny Janet. “I don’t think she’ll notice us. It’s pretty crowded. We have to go talk to him now.”

  “Not yet,” I repeated.

  Popcorn was still looking at Granny Janet. “She’s busy talking to someone. Let’s go.”

  I didn’t move.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  I felt the weird itching in my bones. The longer I waited to meet Tito, the longer I could believe he could help me rescue my dad. But once I met him, there was a chance he could say no.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. He wouldn’t say no. Not to his number one fan, and not to a kid who needed help. He would help us. He would say Never quit trying. And if I didn’t go meet him now, I would miss my chance.

  My Spy Buddies earpiece buzzed, but I ignored the CHCHCH of Brain’s spy report, opened my eyes, turned around, and started marching forward.

  Suddenly I was being yanked backward by the collar of my shirt. Popcorn lurched backward, too. We both spun around to find Louisa, not yet in her Mr. Jiggly Fluff costume, glowering at us.

  “I just saw Granny Janet at a front table,” she proclaimed. “You can’t go up there—”

  “I know it’s risky, but I have to go in,” I said. “And if I get caught, we’ll never tell anyone you helped us. Your good name is safe.” This was word for word the exact speech that Bruce Paxton gives to Rosco Jones in Steel Cage 2, but I don’t think Louisa remembered that.

  “I’m not worried about my good name,” Louisa said, rolling her eyes. “I’m trying to save your stupid mission.” She looked over our heads and scanned the crowd. “We’ll go along the left wall on the other side of Tito’s table.”

  “But the line to meet him is in the middle—”

  “We don’t need the line.” Louisa pushed us toward one side of the ballroom, then forward along the wall until we were next to a little tree in a giant pot. “Be cool,” she said.

  She stepped forward toward the circle of people around Tito’s table.

  “Danger Rick!” she said, waving to a man with a ponytail.

  The ponytail man looked up, confused.

  Louisa smiled big. “Hey, I just wanted to say how awesome you were in the Summer Shakeup match against Vince Gnash a few years ago. That was one of the top three underrated face turns in the history of UWE. I was disappointed that you didn’t join the Triple Diamond Coalition, but I totally respect your decision to step away from the spotlight and go behind the scenes into management. The UWE is sooooo lucky to have you.”

  “Whoa,” I heard Popcorn say.

  I hadn’t heard Louisa talk wrestling in years. It was like the old Louisa was still in there somewhere, underneath the part that told me to go away all the time.

  “Thanks,” said Danger Rick, who was apparently some small-time former wrestler who now worked in management for UWE. I had never heard of him, but Louisa had always known a lot more about UWE than I did. I just knew the superstars and the guys who came from lucha libre.

  “I am such a fan,” Louisa gushed. “Can I get an autograph?”

  “Yeah, of course,” he replied.

  Danger Rick exchanged nods with two big guys in suits who were probably bodyguards. They had earpieces that were way more expensive than the junky one in my ear. They waved us forward.

  Louisa pulled the gala program out of her purse for Danger Rick to sign. “By the way, we’d love to meet Tito,” she added casually.

  “Sure,” Danger Rick said.

  My heart started pounding.

  This was it.

  “Good evening,” a man’s voice boomed from the stage. “Welcome to the Number One Fan Foundation Gala. If all of you could please take your seats, we will begin our program with an introduction from the foundation’s director.”

  One of the bodyguard guys muttered something to Danger Rick.

  “They’re saying we have to take our seats right away,” he told Louisa, “but come back later and I will introduce you to Tito.”

  “Okay,” Louisa said, hustling us away. “That sounds great.”

  The next thing I knew we were out of the circle of people around Tito. Instead we were alongside the wall next to the sad little tree in the giant pot, like we had never been that close to Tito at all.

  “Thanks for trying, Louisa,” I said. “That was amazing.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” she said, and walked away.

  20

  WE ARE PIONEER COPS

  Popcorn and I went back to table 17, where some other people had joined Gwen and Something. Popcorn and I were the last two to sit down. Fortunately, our seats were facing away from the stage. I figured Granny Janet wouldn’t recognize the back of my head.

  “Are your parents not going to sit with you?” Gwen asked us.

  “Uh, they’re eating at a different table tonight,” I mumbled, which was also technically not a lie.

  A bunch of waiters in black-and-white outfits started reaching around people to stick salads in front of them on the table. I took my salad plate from a waiter’s hand so he wouldn’t have to reach. The plate was freezing! I guess if you pay a lot of money for a salad, they want to make sure it’s cold. The salad already had some kind of brown dressing on it. I usually only eat ranch dressing, but I decided not to draw attention to myself by making a big deal about it. I grabbed the biggest of the three forks in front of me and started to eat my salad.

  Gwen had more questions for us, though. “I don’t see any other children,” she said, smiling. “How did you two get the lucky opportunity to come to this gala?”

  Jeez, what was with this lady? Was she a secret agent or something?

  All that popped into my head was what Brain had said through the earpiece, “Tell them that you’re pi-CHCH.”

  “We are pi … We are pi…” I tried to think fast about what Brain might have been trying to say. “We are Pioneer Cops,” I finished.

  “It’s like the Boy Scouts,” Popcorn offered.

  “Oh! Good for you! But why are you here?” Gwen wanted to know.

  “Oh, um…” I tried once again to project confidence. “We caught some guys trying to use counterfeit money, and the Number One Fan Foundation wanted to reward us,” I said weakly.

  I was afraid Gwen would say Hey! That’s the plot of Coyote Willis: Pioneer Cop!

  But she just said, “Oh, isn’t that wonderful.”

  The director was still on the stage talking about the Number One Fan Foundation and how it was important to help kids and people and blah blah blah. Then she called Granny Janet to come up and receive her award. I turned around and concentrated on my salad so Granny Janet wouldn’t spot me in the crowd. After Granny Janet’s speech, Louisa came up to the stage as Mr. Jiggly Fluff and presented a giant check from the Fluff Cream Dairy Dessert Shop to the Number One Fan Foundation. Everyone clapped.

  After Louisa/Mr. Jiggly Fluff left the stage, the Number One Fan Foundation director said, “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the man who needs no introduction, whom we are proud to claim as a friend of Haselton: Mr. Tito the Bonecrusher!”

  People started clapping like crazy.

  “Wooooo!” Popcorn hollered beside me.

  Tito was wearing a gray suit and a green-and-red tie that matched his mask. He talked about how happy he was to be in Haselton, the hometown of his best friend, The Germ. His voice sounded exactly the same as in his movies. But he was calmer, probably because he was talking to a room full of rich people and not evildoers like Senator Corruptron. Popcorn didn’t take a single bite the whole time Tito was talking. People clapped like crazy again when Tito finished and wal
ked offstage.

  The next part of the meal was some kind of meat that had a bunch of long, skinny bones sticking out of it. I saw Popcorn’s eyes get really wide when the waiter put it in front of him.

  “How do we eat this?” he whispered to me.

  “I’m not sure,” I whispered back. “Let’s just take a couple of bites and then eat the carrots on the side.”

  We started to cut into our meat.

  “Don’t you just love lamb?” Gwen asked, smiling at Popcorn.

  Lamb? The meat was lamb? Why can’t rich people just eat hot dogs?

  “Oh, yes,” Popcorn said to Gwen, but he immediately stopped cutting the meat and stuck his fork into a carrot instead.

  My earpiece started to crackle again.

  “I just CHCHCH security CH Tito is CHCHCH during dessert.”

  Once again I understood only about half of what Brain was saying. I guessed maybe it was that Tito would be signing autographs or taking pictures during dessert.

  The lamb at dinner might have been confusing, but the dessert was delicious. It was some kind of chocolate pudding in a little cup with a strawberry on top. The little cup was on a little plate, and the plate was decorated with squiggles of berry sauce and chocolate sauce.

  “Yum,” Popcorn said when they put it in front of him. Then he turned to me and whispered, “Why did they put the sauce on the plate instead of on the chocolate pudding?”

  “I think it’s supposed to be fancier this way,” I whispered back, and took a giant spoonful of pudding.

  Suddenly, Brain’s voice was booming in my ear so loudly that I winced.

  “CHCHCH leaving NOW!” she was shouting. “They just pulled up the car for him. I repeat, Tito is CHCHCHCH NOW!”

  I must have looked really panicked. Popcorn dropped his spoon, which clanged against the little plate.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “He’s leaving now!” I said. “Brain said Tito is leaving right now.”