by Bill Harley
We all got up and stood in line. Even Mrs. Burke.
“This is the best Career Week talk ever,” someone said.
Josh Little was right in front of me. He’s always very kind and polite and thoughtful, which is probably why he turned and said, “Don’t worry, Charlie. When your dad hands out calculators, the kids are going to like his presentation even more.”
I just nodded. What could I say? I took my cupcake and sat at my desk, staring at it. When you don’t feel like eating cupcakes, you’re in really bad shape.
Dad was waiting for us in the kitchen when the Squid and I got home. “Want to walk Ginger together?” he asked me.
“Sure,” I said. Sometimes Dad walked Ginger around the block when I couldn’t do it, but we hardly ever did it together.
He stuffed a plastic bag in his pocket for you-know-what, or as my dad says, “the call of nature.”
Or as I say, “poop.”
“Are you picking it up?” I asked.
“No. I’ll carry the bag, but you have to pick it up. You’re closer to the ground than I am.”
“That’s not fair,” I said.
“Life’s not fair,” he said, smiling.
Ginger led us on our usual route around the block. We stopped for a minute and said hi to Mrs. Lapidus while her dog Lovey-Doodle (That’s his name. I’m not making it up.) yapped at Ginger.
Ginger strained to get at the little mutt, but I pulled on her leash until she gave up and started walking again.
Dad asked me about school and I told him about my job as Mrs. Burke’s Master Messenger. I explained how I was like Buck Meson except I wasn’t supposed to run.
“Do you ever run when no one’s looking?” he asked.
“Sometimes,” I said.
“I figured,” he said. “I know you.”
At the cat lady’s house we saw her two cats Alice and Gertrude looking out of the front window. Ginger tried to lunge at them, but I jerked her back onto the sidewalk. Just as we made the turn for home, we saw Mr. Gritzbach out in his front yard smoking a cigar. He’s kind of a grumpy old guy, and he’s always worried about Ginger pooping in his yard.
“Hi, Raymond,” Dad said to him.
“Hello, Jim.” He scrunched up his bushy gray eyebrows like he was trying to figure something out. “You taking the day off?”
Uh-oh. I looked at Dad. What is he going to say to Mr. Gritzbach?
Dad took in a deep breath, then let it out all at once. “Yep. Just taking a little time off.”
“Well, enjoy yourself,” Mr. Gritzbach grumbled.
“I’ll try,” Dad said.
When we were almost home, Dad put his arm around my shoulder. “It’s nice walking with you.”
“I like it, too.” I really did, but I also couldn’t hold in my questions anymore.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you look for a new job today?”
“Not today,” he said. “I thought about it a lot, though.”
Thought about it? Why can’t he just go find one?
“Oh,” I said. Though I wanted to say a lot more.
13
Putting Your Foot in Your Mouth
The next morning, I didn’t feel any better. There was plenty of work to do, but I couldn’t concentrate. Sam Marchand’s dad was coming in that afternoon to talk about being an electrician, and Sam was bragging about it, which drove me crazy.
I felt like the terrible secret I had was too big to keep to myself.
Who could I tell without worrying that they’d blab to someone?
I knew. Tommy and Hector.
After lunch, when we went out onto the playground, I stopped both of them before we got to the soccer field. “You guys,” I said. “Wait!”
“We gotta hurry, Charlie,” Tommy said. “We have to be there to choose up sides.”
“Just a minute,” I said.
“What is it?” Hector asked.
I couldn’t tell them yet. There were too many kids around.
“Over here.” I led them to the corner of the playground behind the slide. A couple of second graders were climbing on it, but no one really noticed us.
“What’s wrong?” Tommy whispered.
“I’m not supposed to say,” I said. “You have to really, really promise not to tell anyone.”
Tommy looked curious. Hector looked worried.
“I mean it, you have to swear,” I said.
“Cross my heart, hope to die,” Tommy pledged, raising his hand like he was in court.
“What is it, Charlie?” Hector asked.
“You swear too?” I asked him.
“Sure.”
“It’s my dad,” I said.
Neither of them said anything for a second—they were waiting for me to talk.
“Are you worried about the calculators?” Tommy finally asked. “Is it about that?”
“Worse than that,” I said.
“Is it about Career Week?” Hector asked.
I just nodded.
“He’s not the president of his company, is he?” Hector asked.
“No,” I said.
“I knew that,” Tommy said. “But I didn’t want to say anything. Why did you tell people he was?”
“I didn’t!” I shouted.
“You kind of did,” Tommy said.
“I know. But everybody was just bragging so much, and then Robby said numbers were stupid. And then I thought maybe Dad was going to get a promotion.”
“So just tell everybody,” Tommy said. “It’s no big deal.”
“Yes it is,” I said.
“So what’s wrong?” Hector asked.
I took a big breath and let it out. “My dad lost his job on Friday.”
“What do you mean?” Tommy asked.
“His stupid boss Mr. Grimaldi told him they didn’t need him anymore.”
“Is that like getting fired?” Tommy asked.
“I guess so,” I said.
Kids were screaming as they went down the slide. A teacher blew a whistle. The soccer game had started without us. I looked out across the playground and saw a moving van drive down the street. I wondered if we’d have to move away.
“Wow,” Tommy said. “That’s really bad.”
“I know,” I said.
It was quiet for a moment. Then Hector said, “My dad lost his job once.”
“Really?” I asked.
“When I was five,” he said.
“What happened?” I asked.
“He stayed at home for a long time, but finally he found another job. I mostly remember how happy my mom was. After that, we came here.”
“My mom lost her job once,” Tommy said. “Actually, she quit because she didn’t like where she worked.”
“But my dad’s supposed to come in and talk about his job,” I said. “If I’d kept my big mouth shut in the first place, Dad wouldn’t have signed up for Career Week. And then I just made it worse when I told everyone how important his job was.”
“Yeah,” Tommy said. “You really put your foot in your mouth this time.”
“What?” Hector asked.
Since Hector’s main language was Spanish, sometimes he didn’t understand what things meant in English. I guess “putting your foot in your mouth” did sound a little strange to him.
“You know,” Tommy said, “putting your foot in your mouth.”
“Why would you do that?” Hector asked. “How do you do that?”
“No, Hector,” I explained. “It means you said something you shouldn’t have and now you’re in trouble because of it.”
“Oh, wait!” Hector said. “I see. It’s the same in Spanish, but it’s your shoe. El zapato. We say ‘meter el zapato en la boca.’” Then he laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny?” Tommy asked.
“Because I just remembered one time when I really put my shoe in my mouth.”
“What happened?”
“Just listen. I wil
l tell you the whole story.”
14
The Wicked Witch of Santiago
“When I was six, we lived in this apartment in Santiago,” Hector started. “I walked to school, but in the afternoons school was over before my mother or father got home from work. So I needed a babysitter. They asked this very old woman who lived down the hall if I could stay with her after school. Her name was Señora Velora.”
“Señora Velora?” Tommy said. “That sounds like a character in a movie or something.”
“She looked like one, too. She had a long, droopy face, and she wore heavy earrings that made her ears hang down and dozens of bracelets on each arm that sounded like chains rattling when she walked. She always carried a cane, but she did not use it very much, except to hit things when she was mad. And she was almost always mad about something. If her mail was late, she swung the stick at the mailman. If the elevator was slow, she smacked her cane against the elevator door.”
I was surprised. Hector usually didn’t talk very much—this was the most I’d ever heard him say. I looked over at Tommy, and he nodded his head at me. He was surprised, too.
“I had to stay with her every afternoon until my mother got home,” Hector went on. “Señora Velora made me sit at the little table in her kitchen and didn’t allow me to touch anything. Nada. Not one thing. And every day she would give me the same snack. Three crumbly, stale little crackers, always the same kind, and a glass of milk that wasn’t even cold. If I didn’t drink all the milk, she smacked the leg of the table with her cane.”
“Wow!” Tommy said. “That sounds horrible.”
“I hated it!” Hector said. “And her apartment smelled really old, too. I was scared of her but I didn’t say anything to my parents. And then one day, I saw this show on television about a boy who discovers that the woman next door is a witch. After that, I was sure that Señora Velora was a witch.”
“Maybe she was!” Tommy was always ready to believe in witches and ghosts and werewolves. Hector nodded. “One Saturday morning, my parents had to go to a meeting at the bank and they told me I must stay with Señora Velora. As soon as they opened our door to take me to her apartment, I started to cry. ‘I don’t want to go!’ I said. ‘I am afraid of her! She is a witch! Una bruja!’ My mother told me that she was not a witch, just a nice old lady. ‘No!’ I screamed. ‘She is a witch. She feeds me poison crackers and poison milk and she’s an evil witch. I don’t want to go to her apartment because she will stick me in the oven!’”
Tommy was in hysterics. “Señora Velora—the wicked witch of Santiago!”
“Exactamente!” Hector laughed. “My mother told me to stop yelling and be polite, then she grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out the door. And there she was! Señora Velora standing in the hallway with her cane and her drooping ears and her bracelets. She had heard everything.”
I gulped.
“Oh, man!” Tommy said. “What happened?
“My mom tried to pretend everything was all right. ‘Buenos días, Señora Velora,’ she said. ‘I’m just bringing Hector to your apartment.’ Well, Señora Velora squinted her eyes, and she raised her cane and pointed at me. I thought she was going to cast a spell on me so I screamed again, even louder. She waved the cane and hissed, ‘!Sinvergüenza¡’”
“What’s that mean?” Tommy asked.
“Sinvergüenza means that you’re a person with no shame,” Hector said. “Like you don’t care what you do.”
“Seen-ver-gwen-zah!” Tommy shouted.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Señora Velora went back to her apartment and slammed the door. My parents had to take me to their meeting at the bank. I never went back to Señora Velora’s apartment again. I was afraid to even look at her. And I felt really bad for calling her a witch. I guess that is really putting your foot in your mouth.”
I couldn’t believe Hector had done that. I’d never seen him do anything wrong. It was good to know he did dumb things, too.
“That is a disaster,” I said.
“A catastrophe,” Hector agreed.
“A disastrophe!” Tommy said.
We all agreed. It was definitely a disastrophe.
“I put my foot in my mouth once, too,” Tommy said. “In fact, I ate my whole zapato.”
Hector and I looked at him. “What do you mean?” I asked.
Tommy took in a deep breath and started telling his story.
15
About to Explode
“Remember last summer when my family went on that trip to see the Grand Canyon and everything?” Tommy asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “You sent me that postcard of a great big guy riding on a tiny little donkey!”
“Yeah, but I never told you about what happened when we went on this tour out in the desert to see some dinosaur fossils. There were two buses full of people—moms and dads and grandparents and little kids. There was even a bunch of college kids. On the way, the buses stopped at this place where you could buy snacks and souvenirs. The tour guide told us that we had twenty minutes, and he said the most important thing we had to do before we got back on the bus was to go to the bathroom, because it was an hour and a half drive to where the dinosaur fossils were and there was no restroom on the bus. As soon as we got off, my mom told me to go to the bathroom right then before it got too crowded.
“But inside the store I got interested in all these awesome fossils and Native American stuff and about a million other things. Since I only had five dollars, I couldn’t afford any of the really cool stuff. I saw a sign that said Today’s Special—Large Soda and Candy Bar Only $3.50, so that’s what I bought. I had just enough money left to buy a piece of fossilized wood, and I got in line to pay for it and drank my soda while I waited. It was a long line and a huge soda. Before I knew it, the guide guy was telling everyone to get back on the bus.
“By the time I finished my soda and paid for my souvenir, everybody else was already on the bus, and my mom came looking for me. She was really mad and yelled at me to hurry up. ‘Did you go to the bathroom?’ she asked. So I said, ‘Yeah’ even though I hadn’t.”
“Uh-oh,” I said.
“I know!” Tommy went on. “As soon as the bus started down the road, I had to go. But I thought I could hold it. So I waited, like five minutes, but then I really had to go! I kept squirming in my seat, crossing my legs and squeezing them together as tight as I could. I didn’t want to tell my mom or dad. Finally my dad asked me what was wrong and I told him ‘nothing.’
“‘Tell the truth,’ my mom said. ‘Why can’t you sit still?’
“I gave up and shouted that I really had to go to the bathroom. I mean, I was about to explode!”
Hector started to laugh. So did I. I had to go to the bathroom just thinking about it.
“Then what happened?” asked Hector.
“It gets even worse! My dad asks me if I can wait, and I tell him I can’t hold out much longer. And Mom’s so upset she has steam coming out of her ears. All the people around us are trying not to look at me, because they can see how bad I have to go.
“Just when I think I’m going to die, my dad gets up and walks to the front of the bus and talks to the tour guy and the bus driver. In a minute, our bus pulls over to the side of the road, and the other bus stops right behind us. We’re in the middle of the desert. There’s no gas stations, no buildings. Not even any trees to hide behind! Dad comes back and says, ‘Let’s go,’ and I moan, ‘But everybody’s watching. I can’t!’ and he says, ‘Oh, yes you can. This is what you get for saying something that wasn’t true.’ He leads me down the aisle of the bus. It’s really quiet. We get off the bus and there’s no place to go, so he takes me a few feet off the highway and I see everybody on both buses looking out the windows at me.”
“Oh no!” Hector says.
“Oh yes! Dad turns me around facing away from the buses and says, ‘You’ve got one hundred and twenty people waiting for you, Tommy. Let’s get it done.�
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“But now I’m so nervous, I can’t go, even though I really have to!”
“That happens to me, too!” I said.
“Right!” Tommy agreed. “So my dad spreads out his jacket and holds it out to the sides so I’m sort of hidden, but everybody knows what I’m doing. It takes me a while, but finally I finish. When we get back on the bus everybody’s smiling at me and an old guy says, ‘It’s all right, kid. I know what that feels like.’”
Hector and I were laughing our heads off. The stories were so funny, I’d almost forgotten about the mess I was in.
One of the teachers blew the whistle to tell us to come in. We headed toward the door, still laughing.
I was a bozo, but at least my friends were bozos, too.
Sam’s dad came in that afternoon. He brought in a bunch of wiring and switches and talked about working in all different kinds of buildings. Dashawn asked if he had ever been electrocuted, and Mrs. Burke said that was an inappropriate question and we should all know better. And then Mr. Marchand gave us all little flashlights with his company’s name and phone number on them.
As we were getting in line for the buses, Manny Soares told me he couldn’t wait to get a calculator from my dad.
16
Transformation!
Another day went by, and my dad hadn’t found a job. One day closer to Friday when everyone would find out I had a really big blabby, fibby mouth. The next day, right before lunchtime, Mrs. Burke said, “Charlie, could you please take to this to the office?”
At least being Master Messenger gave me a chance to think about something else. I took the paper from Mrs. Burke and headed out the door.
I loved being in the hallway, so I thought I’d take the long way around, past the fourth-, fifth-, and third-grade classes. When I passed Mrs. L’s class, her door was open.
I stood there, a little to the side where she couldn’t see me, and looked for Tommy. He was at his desk working on something. I waved at Colton Burkheiser, who sat next to him, and signaled for him to tell Tommy to look up. When Colton poked him, Tommy glanced over and saw me. He grinned and then started making ridiculous faces. I made faces back. It was hilarious.