Mr. Danson is there with his greyhound, but poor Bodi can barely keep up with Murphy today. He chases the dog for a lap, then settles under the bench I’m sitting on.
vibrant
Carly is vibrant at dinner, telling my parents about her mom’s landscaping business and a pesky mole that’s been terrorizing one of her mom’s clients. I have to concentrate to keep my manners in check; Carly waits patiently to swallow before she talks and puts her fork down between bites. It’s almost as if she actually listened when her parents were trying to teach her dining etiquette.
etiquette
Even when Carly was little, I doubt she was the kind of girl who’d want to dress Frank up in doll clothes or have a monkey tea party, so I’m not surprised when what she wants to do after dinner is help me get Frank ready for monkey college. I let her watch a segment from the training DVD before we take Frank out of his cage.
segment
I demonstrate how Frank can now open a DVD case on his own. Like the trainers on the video, I reward Frank with lots of praise when he accomplishes the task.
“Let’s teach him how to pick up something that’s been dropped,” Carly says. “Like a remote.”
safeguard
For the next hour, we take turns sitting on one of the kitchen chairs dropping the TV remote, coaxing Frank to pick it up. A few times the batteries fall out when the remote hits the floor, and it doesn’t seem as if Frank and Bodi appreciate the noise. We move Operation Teach Frank into the den to safeguard the remote and Bodi’s sanity. Carly asks me for paper and keeps meticulous notes of our results—something I’ve never done in all the training I’ve conducted. It’s just one more reason why Carly’s the smartest kid I know.
meticulous
On the forty-third drop, Frank tentatively picks up the remote from the rug and hands it back to me. Carly and I rejoice at this new step in Frank’s education, praising him as if he’s just won a gold medal.
tentatively
As Carly and I have a celebratory snack of pears and lemonade, I can’t help but remember when Matt and I had a big fight earlier this year. Carly came over to take my mind off the fact that I was at war with my best friend. Her friendship really helped. Based on how much fun we had today, I hope my reciprocal effort works for her, too.
“This was great,” she says when her mom comes to pick her up. “Can I help you train Frank again?”
I tell her of course. For most of the time we were together, neither of us mentioned Crash or Umberto. That’s probably why we had so much fun. Sometimes sticking your head in the sand isn’t a bad thing after all.
I Give My Brain a Rest
Saturday, I try not to fixate on detention and invite Matt over to help me rummage through the garage for Old Stuff We Forgot About That We Can Still Play With. In fact, our garage is so full of that kind of junk, we’ve never been able to park a car there.
Because my mom’s having lunch with one of her friends and my dad’s on deadline, no one stops us when Matt and I carry Frank’s cage out to the garage. I bring Bodi’s dog bed so he can join us too.
unbearable
“You better finish that cartoon with Umberto. Two weeks’ detention would be unbearable.” Matt holds up a broken weed wacker we could still take apart and build something with.
“Don’t worry—I’ll finish that cartoon if I have to do the whole thing myself.”
“I guess that wouldn’t be much of a collaboration.”
I can barely hear him since Matt is wearing the huge rubber Frankenstein mask my father used to wear on Halloween when I was little.
“Why does my mom keep all this stuff?” I point to the tower of cardboard boxes in the corner of the garage.
“We can make another robot,” Matt suggests.
“The last time we got silver paint all over my dad’s bike, remember?”
“It totally blended in. I can’t believe he noticed,” Matt says.
legendary
I hold up a sturdy box that had probably held a pair of my father’s shoes. “Or we could put on one of our legendary magic shows.”
Matt drops the hose. “Should we bring back the Great Mattini?”
“And the Amazing Derek?”
hightail
We hightail it to the back of the garage, where my mother keeps two plastic tubs of fabric she never uses. I guess somewhere in my mom’s mind she imagines having all this spare time to sew; in reality, she barely has five minutes to sew a button on a shirt, never mind make an outfit from scratch. If she knew how often Matt and I have used her material as parachutes, capes, and blankets for Bodi, she wouldn’t be happy.
paisley
Matt grabs a long piece of silky purple fabric; I choose a black piece with splashes of green. We drape them over us like magical robes. I hate it when people dress up their dogs in little raincoats and tutus, but I don’t want Bodi to miss out on the fun. I rummage through the box until I find a small piece of sparkly fabric to wrap around him, then run inside to grab some safety pins. When I come back, Matt’s wrapped some striped fabric in a turban around his head. He hands me some paisley material for mine.
“Frank looks left out,” Matt says.
“What are you talking about? He’s the main attraction.” I find the scissors and start cutting holes in the shoebox.
Matt immediately sees where I’m going with this and scans the garage for more props. He comes up with fake spiderwebs and a lantern we use for camping. We clear off the table in the middle of the floor and cover it with a deep blue piece of fabric. Then we set up the spiderwebs and turn off the garage light for effect.
“Wait, wait!” I run inside and find an old CD player and put on a scratched CD of spooky sounds my mom used to play from the porch when kids came to trick-or-treat.
“Don’t make it look too much like a haunted house,” Matt says. “We’re magicians, remember?”
“Magicians with supernatural powers,” I remind him.
supernatural
I take Frank out of his cage and carefully place him in the large shoebox.
“You think he’ll squawk when you put his head in the hole?” Matt asks.
squawk
“Not if I do it right. Hopefully he’ll think it’s a little bed.” I place Frank’s head through the hole, then put his feet through the hole in the other end. I do everything so delicately that Frank doesn’t freak out.
delicately
I replace the cover. Frank now looks like a perfect assistant lying onstage in a magic box. Matt takes a photo with his phone while I go to the workbench on the back wall and find my dad’s old saw.
“Just to check that we’re on the same page,” Matt says, “we’re only pretending to cut Frank in half, right?”
“No, we’re really going to do it,” I answer. “Why are you even ASKING me that?”
We pose for a photo on Matt’s phone. I hold up Frank-in-the-Box, and Matt picks up Bodi and puts him on the table. When we look at the photo, we see our turbans are falling off our heads, so we adjust them before beginning the show.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Matt begins. “I am the Great Mattini, and this fine fellow beside me is the Amazing Derek.”
I take a low bow, still holding Frank so he doesn’t escape. Matt waves the saw in the air.
astounding
“For tonight’s astounding act, the Amazing Derek will saw a live monkey in half!”
hoax
I realize our pretend-audience should actually see us put Frank in the box to know it’s not some kind of hoax. I take Frank out of his magic box and put him back in again.
ceremoniously
It seems as if Bodi wants to participate a little more, so I find an old party hat and slip it over his head. Matt holds the saw ceremoniously, bending it for effect.
“And now, right before your very eyes,” he continues, “the Amazing Derek will begin this death-defying act.”
But when I raise the saw above the box, I am lookin
g straight into the eyes of my parents standing in the driveway. My mother’s carrying a doggy bag from her favorite restaurant; she is NOT happy. My father, on the other hand, is holding his hand up to his face and looks like he’s trying not to laugh.
morbid
My mother wordlessly walks over to the table and takes Frank out of the shoebox. The CD is now skipping, stuck on a morbid sound of someone wailing.
meekly
“Um, you know we weren’t really going to saw him in half,” I say meekly.
Mom removes the party hat from Bodi’s head and unfastens the safety pin, letting his sparkly outfit fall to the floor. Matt and I take off our turbans and capes. Then she extends her arms for the fabric, which we carefully hand over. My father shoots me an expression that says Don’t Even Think About Talking, and for once I’m smart enough to take his advice. The music continues to wail over and over until I finally punch the STOP button.
varieties
Out of all the varieties of MomMad, silent MomMad is by far the worst. Mom puts Frank inside his cage and brings it inside. My father—also smart enough not to argue with her when she’s like this—takes Bodi inside too.
“I hate to take off—” Matt begins.
“Are you kidding? I wish I could leave too. Get out and don’t look back.”
Matt doesn’t need any convincing; he jumps on his skateboard and heads home.
I go inside and see my mother examining Frank to make sure he’s okay. Then she checks his diaper and hands him to me.
I head to her office, incredibly relieved. ANYTHING is better than Mom’s silent treatment, including changing a monkey’s poopy diaper.
It’s going to be a very long Saturday.
NO!
grudge
Carly still surfs with Heinz on Saturdays, which means seeing Crash whether she wants to or not. After yesterday’s fiasco with the magic show, I still beg my parents for money for another surf lesson, not just because I want to surf again but to make sure Carly’s okay. One good thing about my mom—she doesn’t hold a grudge. I’m filled with gratitude that she gives me money without a lecture. Then she does even better by driving us to Santa Monica. I fall off the board less frequently than before and end up riding a few small waves all the way in. It turns out Crash didn’t show up. Who knows, maybe he’s embarrassed about seeing Carly too.
gratitude
After we get back from the beach, I ask Carly if she wants to come over, but I think all that worrying about running into Crash took a lot out of her and she just wants to stay at home. I change Frank when I get in, then work with him on picking up the dropped remote again. He’s slowly getting the hang of it, just the way I have with my drawing—practicing again and again.
dissipate
Bodi needs some time too and wags his tail the whole way to the dog park. Mr. Danson and Murphy aren’t there but two Labs chase a soggy tennis ball and Bodi cheerfully tags along behind them. I’m in a good mood—until I spot someone approaching from the other side of the park. In a wheelchair. I don’t say anything, hoping this is just a bully mirage and the image of Umberto will dissipate soon.
“What are YOU doing here?” I ask Umberto when we meet. Is this guy trying to wreck my weekends too?
maneuvers
Umberto maneuvers his chair through the mulch and woodchips. “My aunt lives down the street. I thought I’d let Minnie run around while we visit.” He points to a small brown terrier following two pugs. I have to admit Minnie is cute. Not that I’d tell Umberto.
“Is that your dog?” he asks. “I recognize him from the picture.”
Umberto points to Bodi, who’s sniffing the butt of a giant Great Dane. I’m grateful Umberto doesn’t turn my dog’s idea of fun into a joke.
“Hey, we have to finish that comic for Ms. McCoddle or we’re looking at more detention,” Umberto says. “That’s the last thing I want.”
“Oh, like I do.” My sarcasm is lost on Umberto, who starts to wheel toward Bodi.
“Is your dog okay?”
I turn around and see Bodi across the park, lying on the ground. When I run to him, the two Labs think I want to play and chase after me. Bodi’s breathing heavily and his legs are moving as if he’s running, which scares me more than if he were just lying there. I look around for help, but besides Umberto there’s only a woman with a headset, yakking on the phone and throwing tennis balls to the Labs. I have to get Bodi to my mom’s office. Fast.
latched
I pick up Bodi and run toward the dog park gate. It’s a latched system of double doors so the animals can’t escape. I wonder how I’m going to open them. To my surprise, Umberto’s already there with Minnie in his lap. But the latch is up high and he can’t reach it.
“Hey, you!” Umberto shouts to the woman on the phone. “A little help here!”
engrossed
The woman sees Umberto in his wheelchair and me carrying Bodi and hurries over to unlatch the heavy metal gate. I look down at Bodi and try to decide what’s wrong. I’m not a vet like my mom but my guess is that he’s having some kind of seizure. I want to ask the woman for a ride to my house but I’ve never seen her before and she’s engrossed in her phone call again. I run as fast as I can while carrying a sixty-pound dog but I’m not moving fast enough.
“We can go to my aunt’s,” Umberto says. “It’s right down the street.”
“My mom’s a vet, remember? I’m going home.”
Umberto moves Minnie to the side of his chair. “Give me your dog.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know how far you have to go but you’ll definitely get there faster if you can run. Give me Bodi. Come on!”
intentions
When Umberto holds out his gloved hands, there isn’t time to analyze his intentions. All I can think about now is saving Bodi’s life. I place my beloved dog in Umberto’s lap, then grab the handles of his wheelchair.
“Run!” Umberto says. “As fast as you can. Don’t worry about me.”
I don’t tell him he’s not the one I’m worried about. I race the seven blocks as fast as I can. Since most of the sidewalks are old and haven’t been redone for people in wheel-chairs, we have to run in the street. I look down to check on Bodi. He’s now lying quietly in Umberto’s arms. I just hope he’s still breathing.
swerve
“Truck on the left!” Umberto yells. I swerve the wheelchair to the right, up a sidewalk ramp—finally—that leads to the top of my street.
momentarily
I race the three blocks to my road, praying my mom’s home. I push the wheelchair up the steep hill of my driveway—good to go down on skateboards, not so good for shoving wheelchairs—and screech to a halt outside the back door. I hurry into the kitchen, leaving Bodi momentarily with Umberto.
“Mom!” I yell. “It’s Bodi!”
My mom grabs her glasses from the counter and hurries outside. She nods to Umberto and gently takes Bodi. As I follow her into her office on the other side of the driveway, I realize Umberto’s still in his chair by the kitchen door.
I grasp the handles of his wheelchair and lift him backward up the three steps to my mother’s office, praying we got here in time.
Please Be Okay
examination
My mother works quietly and efficiently as she checks Bodi. I have a zillion questions but I know enough not to bother her while she’s performing an examination.
Umberto seems to take the whole thing in, watching my mother as she inspects Bodi’s tongue and eyes.
“Looks like he had a seizure,” she says. “It’s too soon to see if there’ll be permanent damage.”
She leans in close to Bodi and pets him tenderly. It’s not just because he’s our dog—I’ve seen her do this to all her animal patients.
“Is he going to be okay?” Umberto asks.
“We’ll need to keep our eye on him,” Mom answers. “But hopefully, yes.”
gracious
&n
bsp; In all the commotion, I realize I haven’t introduced my mother to Umberto. I can tell from her expression she just figured out Umberto must be the kid who’s been terrorizing me. She’s too gracious to say anything now, but I know she’ll grill me for information the second Umberto leaves.
“Sometimes animals go into shock afterward,” my mom says. “It’s a good thing you got him here quickly.”
I tell my mom the only reason we got here so fast is that Umberto let us use his wheels.
“There are only a few benefits to being in a wheelchair, and racing at top speed is one of them,” Umberto says with a smile.
Bodi seems to be okay, resting on the carpet. I wait until my mother leaves the room before I ask Umberto why he helped me.
obnoxious
He looks at me as if the answer is obvious. “Like I’m going to sit there and watch a dog die. What kind of obnoxious creep do you think I am?”
I don’t answer the question. After a few minutes Umberto starts laughing.
“Okay, maybe I have ranked pretty high on the obnoxious scale. But doing nothing while an animal’s in distress? That’s not me.”
My Life as a Cartoonist Page 8