To my wife, Stacey, who taught me the meaning
of true courage and inner power – H.W.
For the magical women of Beverly Blvd –
Kimmie T, Mercedes, Kim, Lauri, Courtney and
Chelsea – who have turned work into fun
– L.O.
“I have great news,”I said. “Charlie the Clown has diarrhoea.”
My best friend Frankie Townsend looked at me like my brain had just flopped out of my head and turned into mashed potato.
“Hey, man, that is super news,” Frankie said, rolling his eyes. “It’s always cool to hear about a clown with stomach problems.”
Ashley Wong, my other best friend, burst out laughing and fell down on to the old sofa that we use for meetings in our clubhouse. Our clubhouse is a storage room in the basement of our block of flats.
“Go ahead and laugh, Ashweena,” I said to her. “But you won’t be laughing when you hear that there’s money in this for us.”
Ashley stopped laughing immediately, like I knew she would. She is the business manager for Magik 3, which is the magic group we started a couple of months ago. We’ve performed twice for real money. Frankie is the magician, and he’s a great one too. I’m the magician’s assistant and all-round ideas man. Ashley is really good at the money part, which makes me happy because I don’t understand money or change or anything like that.
“Talk to me, Hank,” Ashley said. “I’m hearing a business opportunity.”
“My Aunt Maxine is throwing a birthday party this weekend for my three-year-old twin cousins, Jake and Zack,” I began. “Charlie the Clown was supposed to perform. But it turns out he ate some bad clams at Luigi’s Oyster House. Now he’s got—”
“Diarrhoea,” Frankie and Ashley chimed in, stifling a laugh.
“Right. And he can’t do the party.”
“And you suggested to your Aunt Maxine that Magik 3 might just be available?” Ashley asked hopefully.
“Yup. For the low, low bargain price of thirty dollars,” I said. “Ten bucks for each of us.”
“Hank Zipzer, you are a total genius!” Ashley shouted, slapping me a major high-five. “What did your aunt say? Did she go for it?”
“Like guppies go for fish food,” I said.
“Zengawii!” Frankie said, which is a magic word he made up when he was in Zimbabwe last summer. “Charlie the Clown is out and Magik 3 is in!”
We jumped up to do a victory dance, but before we could so much as wiggle our butts, Robert Upchurch appeared at our clubhouse door. Robert thinks he’s our best friend just because he lives in our building. We keep trying to tell him he’s not, but nothing we say will convince him of that. Even though he’s only in third grade and we’re all in fourth grade, he still sticks to us like peanut butter sticks to your braces.
“A word of advice,” Robert chimed in without being asked. “Three-year-olds are a tough audience.”
One annoying thing about Robert is that he offers information even when no one asks for it. Another annoying thing about Robert is that his information is almost always right. That’s really hard to stomach.
“Guys, the little man does have a point,” Frankie whispered to us. “Three-year-olds can barely pee in a toilet, how are they going to pick a card, any card and remember what it is?”
“For ten bucks each, we’ll make it work,” said Ashley.
“We have something else we have to make work,” I pointed out. “My aunt and uncle live all the way out on Long Island in Westhampton and my parents are planning on spending the night. Do you think your parents will let you go?”
“Mine will,” Robert said. “No problem here.”
“Robert, the name of the group is Magik 3, not Magik 4,” Ashley pointed out.
“That’s three – Hank, Ashley and me,” Frankie added.
Robert looked at us with sad little puppy dog eyes on his sad little skinny face.
“Guys, you wouldn’t go without me, would you?” he whined. “You’re my best friends.”
“No, we’re not, Robert.”
“What are you going to do? Leave me here all weekend?”
“Yes,” we all said in unison.
“You can’t go without me,” Robert said. “Can you picture it? You out there on Long Island having ice cream and cake, and me, back here, eating a frozen breakfast burrito with freezer burn?”
Robert sure knows how to guilt-trip you.
“You don’t even have to pay me anything. I’ll assist for free.”
“Actually, you’d have to pay us,” Ashley said.
“It’s a deal,” said Robert. “Seventy-five cents apiece.”
“A dollar,” said Ashley. I told you she’s great with money matters.
“Give me a break, Ashley,” said Robert. “I only get a third-grade allowance. And a dollar is seven-eighths of it.”
Ashley glanced over at me to see what we should do. I couldn’t decide. We would definitely have more fun if we left Robert behind in New York. But he really wanted to go, and we’re not cold-hearted kids. At least not totally.
TEN EXCUSES WE COULD GIVE ROBERT FOR WHY HE COULDN’T COME ON THE TRIP
BY HANK ZIPZER
1. Westhampton is at the beach, and it’s very windy. Robert could get picked up by the wind and blown out to sea. OK, it doesn’t happen often, but it happens.
2. A flock of seagulls could mistake Robert for a large rodent and swoop down and carry him off to their nest. OK, it doesn’t happen often, but it happens.
3. Robert is a walking, talking encyclopaedia of facts. My Aunt Maxine gets a rash if she hears too many facts.
4. My Uncle Gary gets a rash if my Aunt Maxine gets a rash.
5. There is only a limited amount of oxygen in the car and let’s face it, Robert just sucks in too much of it.
6. Robert is so skinny he could slip through a crack in the seat and we could lose him and never know.
7. Robert has such bad allergies that the beach air would make his nose run so much there aren’t enough tissues in all of Long Island to handle the slime.
8. The twins are having an ice-cream birthday cake and Robert himself has told me many times (way too many times) that ice cream gives him mucus build-up.
9. He’d have to sit next to my weird younger sister, Emily, in the backseat of the minivan and—
Wait a minute. Hank Zipzer, look what you just came up with. Robert would have to sit next to my sister, Emily, in the car! THAT MEANS I WOULDN’T HAVE TO SIT NEXT TO HER!!!
Robert, my man. Good news! You’re invited to a birthday party!
When I pointed out to Frankie and Ashley that they wouldn’t have to sit next to Emily either, they agreed to let Robert come along. No one wants to get stuck next to my younger sister for two hours in a back seat. It’s not like she smells bad or anything. It’s just that she talks all the time about weird stuff. The mating habits of iguanas is a favourite topic of hers.
“OK, Robert, you can come,” I said.
These words did not pop easily out of my mouth.
Robert jumped up and shook his bony butt in a victory dance, which is something I hope you never have to see.
“I told my aunt I’d let her know tomorrow if we can do the show,” I said. “So check with your parents to see if Saturday and Sunday are OK.”
“Wait, wait, wait…” Frankie said. “Zip, did you mean to say the party is this Saturday?”
“Yeah. Is there a problem?”
“Not a problem,” said Frankie. “A tragedy. Make that a catastrophe.”
“What’s wrong?” I didn’t like the look on Frank
ie’s face.
“This Saturday is the Monster Movie Marathon on Channel Forty-eight,” he said. “All monsters, all the time. These twins are how old?”
“Three.”
“That’s bad. We all remember the three-year-old-birthday-party drill, right? Twelve-thirty pizza. One o’clock magic show. One-thirty piñata. Two o’clock cake and ice cream. Two-thirty party bags. Two-thirty-five balloons tied round kids’ wrists. Two-forty pick-up. And parents, please be prompt.”
“What are you, a walking invitation?” I said.
“Hear me, Zip.” Frankie suddenly looked very serious. “That schedule puts the magic show smack in the middle of The Mutant Moth That Ate Toledo, starring Vic Avalanche. I’ve been waiting to see that film since the day I was born. Before, even.”
“Frankie, are you saying you’d turn down a career opportunity for a stupid monster film?” Ashley asked.
“I didn’t hear that, Ashweena,” Frankie said. “I can’t believe that you, of all people, would call The Mutant Moth That Ate Toledo a stupid monster film. It’s an underground classic. Above ground too. I’m sorry, guys. I just can’t go.”
“Frankie,” I said, sitting down on a cardboard box that was filled with our neighbour Mrs Fink’s extra dressing gowns. “I just want you to know this. When I was on the phone to my Aunt Maxine and she told the twins that we might come and perform at their party, I heard them in the background. They weren’t just yelling and screaming with excitement. They were crazed with happiness. They were jumping up and down on their podgy little legs, and one of them, Zack, I think, even threw himself on the hardwood floor. I heard the thud. But if you think a monster film is more important than bringing that kind of joy into their little lives, then I think YOU should call them and tell them.”
Frankie was chewing on his bottom lip, like he does when he’s got a hard decision to make. I knew how much he loved monster films. But I also knew how much I wanted Magik 3 to get this job. I have to admit, I can be pretty convincing when I want to be.
“But, Zip,” he said. “This is the original Mutant Moth film. The one that started them all.”
“I’m seeing the twins,” I said. “I’m seeing their little smiling faces looking up at us on their special day. You so good, you so good, they yell.”
“We could always tape the film,” Ashley said.
Of course. Where were my brains? I wish I had thought of that solution.
“Our video recorder is broken,” Frankie said, “and my dad doesn’t want to fix it because he thinks we watch too much TV anyway.”
“OK then, here’s the plan,” I said, lowering my voice to almost a whisper. “We’ll take our own blank tape to my aunt’s house. My Uncle Gary has incredible video equipment and an awesome TV room. We’ll tape the film there, and right after the party, we’ll watch The Mutant Moth That Ate Toledo on his big-screen TV. No adverts, no interruptions, no parents hanging around. How great does that sound? Personally, I can’t wait.”
Frankie thought about it for a minute. “I need your solemn promise that we will tape the film and watch it right after the magic show, Zip. Nothing can come between me and that film.”
We put our hands one on top of another. Robert tried to sneak his hand in there too. We let him. Like I said before, we’re not totally cold-hearted.
“A promise made is a promise kept,” we all said at once.
“OK, then I’ll go,” said Frankie.
“Zengali!” I shouted.
“Hank, don’t even try,” Frankie said, shaking his head. “The word is zengawii.”
“Whatever,” I said. “Here’s to Magik 3 and our next paying performance!”
That night, we all checked with our parents.
Frankie’s mum and dad said if he tidied up his room he could go. Ashley’s mum and dad said OK too. They’re both doctors and they had a conference they were supposed to go to, and Ashley was going to stay with her grandmother anyway. I hope their conference was on how to give injections that don’t hurt, because I think doctors could use a conference about that.
Robert checked with his mum, and unfortunately, she said she’d be thrilled to let him go with us. I don’t blame her. If Robert were my son and somebody said, “I’ll take this walking encyclopaedia off your hands for a day,” well, I’d jump at the chance.
Oddly enough, it was my parents who were the problem.
“I know you and Aunt Maxine discussed you performing at the party,” my mum said, “but your school work comes first.”
“But, Mum, I’ve already told my friends it’s a done deal.”
“Let’s go and look at the chart and see if you can afford the time away this weekend.”
I have a chart in my room that says what all my assignments are and when they’re due. I didn’t always have this chart. We only put it up a couple of weeks ago, when I found out that I have learning difficulties.
It’s not like I’m stupid. It’s just that certain things are really hard for me, like almost everything you learn at school. My dad had always thought I was lazy. The head teacher of my school, Leland Love, said I wasn’t living up to my potential. My teacher, Ms Adolf, said I wasn’t focusing on my responsibilities. She also gave me three Ds on my school report. Wow, that really embarrassed me.
Then this nice woman who works at my school, Dr Lynn Berger, gave me a load of tests that showed I’m not lazy or stupid – I just learn differently. One of the things she suggested is that I keep a chart in my room that reminds me of everything I have to do at school. That way, I don’t forget my assignments and I focus better.
We went into my bedroom and looked at the chart. In the square for Monday, I had written the words “Science Project” in red letters. Our actual science projects weren’t due for three weeks, but by Monday, we had to pick our topic and say why we had picked it. I didn’t have a clue what I was going to do.
“Why don’t you ask Emily for ideas?” my mother suggested. “She’s excellent at science.”
My sister, Emily, is nine annoying years old. Sometimes I think she’s really an alien being. There’s no other way to explain her behaviour. Like she paints her fingernails ten different colours. Twenty different colours if you count her toenails. And listen to this. She sleeps with her eyes open. I’m not kidding. She rolls her eyes back in her head and all you see is the white part.
“If I ask Emily, I know what she’ll say,” I said. “She’ll tell me to write about reptiles.” Emily loves everything that’s cold-blooded. If it’s ugly and has scales, you can count her in.
“What’s wrong with reptiles?” said a voice from behind me. It was none other than Lizard Girl herself, with Katherine, her pet iguana, wrapped around her neck like a scarf.
“Reptiles shed their own skin,” I said. “How can you love something that walks right out of its own skin and leaves it there on the ground for other people to crunch on?”
“Hank, you are so narrow-minded,” Emily said.
“At least I don’t bite my toenails,” I shot back.
“Stop it, you two,” my mum said, holding up her hand, “or we’re not going away for the weekend at all.”
“Where are we going?” asked Emily.
“We’re talking about going to Uncle Gary and Aunt Maxine’s for the twins’ birthday,” my mum answered.
“We can’t do that,” Emily said. “What will we do with Katherine? You know she gets carsick.”
Once we took Katherine on a trip and she coughed up her lunch. She must have had grapes for dessert, because I’m sure I saw a whole green grape there on the back seat.
“Dad!” Emily screamed. “We need you in here right away. I’m calling a family meeting.”
Family meetings in our house are not as good as they sound. My mum calls them to remind us not to leave our wet towels on the carpet after we take a shower. My dad calls them to yell at us when we have to pay late fees for rented DVDs. Emily calls them just to whine. I never call them. Why call for a meeting you
don’t want to attend in the first place?
My father walked into my bedroom, still holding the newspaper folded to the crossword puzzle. He’s a crossword-puzzle fanatic and proud of it.
“I’m in a very good mood,” he said. “You’re looking at the man who just solved today’s crossword in six minutes and eleven seconds. A personal best.”
“Congratulations, Dad,” I said.
“Thank you, Hank. Now what’s the problem, Emily? I’m in a problem-solving mood.”
“Mum says we’re making plans to go away for the weekend. No one has made plans for Katherine. Is she not a member of this family?”
“I vote no,” I said immediately.
“She can’t stay here alone,” Emily whined. “She’s afraid of the dark.”
“Maybe Papa Pete can look after the beast,” I suggested. Papa Pete is my grandpa and the single best human being in the whole world.
“Katherine is not a beast,” Emily said.
“I was referring to you,” I said.
“That’s enough, Hank,” my mum said. “Besides, Papa Pete can’t look after Katherine. He’s staying out in Westhampton for a couple of days. He wouldn’t miss the twins’ birthday. He’s their grandfather, too.”
“What did we do with the animals when we went to Niagara Falls last summer?” my dad asked.
“We left Cheerio with Mrs Fink next door,” I said. Cheerio is our beige dachshund dog. We call him that because he’s always chasing his tail, and when he spins around in a circle, he looks like a Cheerio. “I’ll bet Mrs Fink would look after him again. They really bonded.”
“Katherine stayed at the pet shop,” Emily said. “George took care of her.”
“You remember George, Dad,” I said. “The pet-shop guy who looks like a gerbil.”
“He does not,” Emily said. “He just has a very furry beard.”
“That starts at his eyebrows,” I said.
“Emily, why don’t you find the phone number of the pet shop,” Dad suggested.
“It’s Pets for U and Me,” Mum said. “The number is on the wall by the kitchen phone.”
The World's Greatest Underachiever and the Mutant Moth Page 1