Cheesie Mack Is Not Exactly Famous

by Steve Cotler

  Mom looked sternly at Granpa. “Don’t even tease about that, Bud.” Then she turned to Goon. “You cannot tell anyone your book is authentic. If you do, you’ll be guilty of forgery.”

  Goon pretended to be shocked. “Mom! I would never do that. I know it’s not authentic.”

  But it was authentic! By switching books, I had stupidly made sure of it. And because of me, the book with Goon’s fake signature was sitting in a stainless steel box in the museum!

  “May I be excused?” I said, and then sort of choked and had to take a sip of water.

  “No dessert?” Mom asked.

  I shook my head and ran up to my room. Then I texted Georgie: Call me ASAP.

  I waited. He didn’t call, and I was miserable for the next three hours. Finally Georgie walked into my bedroom. He was in a great mood.

  “Excellent restaurant. I had four desserts. Actually only two of my own and then most of Ava’s and Charlotte’s. But they didn’t eat—”

  I put my hand over his mouth and asked, “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Mmmf,” he replied.

  I took my hand away.

  “Mom said I should turn my phone off,” he said.

  So I told him everything.

  He did not look too concerned. “Why don’t you do what I did about the ring and confess to your mom? She’d get the book back from your sister.”

  I shook my head. “If I did that, Goon would laugh at me for the next hundred years.” (And I would lose big in the Point Battle.)

  “We need some kind of commando plan to switch the books again,” Georgie said. “Where’s she now?”

  “Back in her room.”

  Georgie thought about that for a moment, then started to get undressed. “There’s nothing we can do about it tonight. But when I get up tomorrow morning, I will have a Great Idea.”

  Georgie was asleep in minutes. It took me a lot longer.

  *

  When I got up, Goon and her stupid book were all I could think of. Georgie was still asleep, so I ran into my backyard to see if Goon’s window was open. Maybe we could do the ladder thing again. But nope. Closed. When I came back inside, Mom looked up from reading the Sunday paper.

  “What’s with wearing pj’s outside?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, Mom. I was, um, looking at a spider.” (I actually was … sort of. The fat spider was still in her web by Goon’s window.)

  “Curiosity is a valuable trait,” Mom said, “but it’s pretty cold out there for pajamas.”

  I must have looked upset or anxious or something else mothers are good at spotting, because she laid her paper down, reached out, pulled me close, and whispered, “Here’s a question for an eleven-year-old. How old will you be when you decide you’re too old for hugs from your dear old mother?”

  I leaned backward and stared up at the ceiling like I was working on a really hard math problem. “How old? Hmmm. Let’s see. Maybe …” I paused, then dived in and gave her a huge hug.

  “NEVER!” I shouted.

  Maybe you’ll think what I did next was sort of babyish, but I promised to tell the truth about my adventures, so here goes.

  I stayed in that big hug for a long time. At first it was a squeeze-hard kind of hug. Then we both relaxed, and I just sort of snuggled onto Mom’s lap. I closed my eyes, and it felt like I was four or five. And I sort of forgot about Goon and her stupid book.

  “Cheesie!” Georgie yelled from upstairs. “I have a Great Idea!”

  I jumped out of Mom’s arms and started for the stairs.

  “Ronnie, darling,” Mom said, “do me a favor, please. June left this here on the table last night. Please take it up to her.”

  Peeking out from under the Sunday paper was the Harry Potter book!

  “Thanks, Mom!” I hugged her one more time and grabbed the book.

  “Georgie!” I yelled, sprinting up the stairs two at a time.

  He was waiting at the top.

  “We’ve got to get dressed and get over to the museum right away,” I whispered. I was holding the book behind my back.

  “I think maybe it’s closed on Sunday,” he replied.

  “Then we’ll have to call Mr. Hernandes or someone. Look!” I held the book up high. “My sister left this downstairs.”

  And then, faster than I could react to, Goon whooshed out of her room and snatched the book out of my hand.

  “Oh, thanks,” she said.

  Before I could say or do anything, she spun around, went back into her room, and locked the door. Goon would make a great spy. I didn’t even see her coming.

  It didn’t exactly fit with the Point Battle rules, but causing me to go from my-problems-are-over to back-in-the-same-mess was worth something. I gave Goon a point. My lead was shrinking: 741–707.

  I trudged into my bedroom. Georgie followed and closed my door. I plopped down in my desk chair.

  “I can’t believe it,” I muttered. “I had it. Now we’re back where we started.”

  “Okay. Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Georgie stared right at me. “I told you I’d come up with a Great Idea … and here it is.”

  He took a deep breath.

  “First,” Georgie said, “I go back to my house and get my giant squirt gun.”

  “I hate this idea so far,” I said.

  “Then we fill it with water. It would be cooler if we mixed ink into the water, but I don’t want to get too crazy.”

  “I’m not listening,” I muttered.

  “Then you march over to your sister’s bedroom door with my water cannon while I hide in here.”

  That got me a little interested.

  “You pound on her door until she opens up. And when she does …”

  I sat up straighter. This was sounding better.

  “… you blast her! Then you run downstairs and she chases you and I run into her room and grab the book. I bring it back here, and we’re done! Simple as pie. How’s that?”

  I had to admit it was an almost Great Idea.

  Almost Great.

  But not Great enough.

  “There are two problems,” I said. “First, it’s Sunday. My parents are home. I will definitely get a major punishment.”

  Georgie shrugged.

  “Maybe the punishment would be worth it,” I continued, “but the second problem is everyone’s been talking about that book for the past day, so as soon as dripping-wet Goon got back to her room, she’d definitely notice that it was missing.”

  I could tell that Georgie hadn’t thought of those problems. He stuck out his lower lip like he was pouting.

  I patted his head. “Almost Great, Georgie.”

  We spent the next several hours hanging out in my room trying to think up another way to get the book back.

  None, nope, and nothing.

  Mom suggested twice we go outside to play. “The wedding’s at three. It’s now or never.”

  But we had no interest. We stayed upstairs with my door open to keep an eye on Goon. We even ate lunch in my room. Then Granpa stuck his head in.

  “You guys want to see a dead whale? One of my buddies at the fire department said there’s a big one washed up at the beach.”

  Book or no book, you definitely cannot pass up an awpic (awesome + epic) opportunity like that. In no time, we had jackets and hats on and were in Granpa’s car.

  “I hope it really smells really bad,” Georgie said as Granpa parked in the beach lot.

  The sky was gray and a cold wind was blowing, so there were only a few other people as curious as we were.

  “It’s a fin whale,” Granpa said.

  It was huge! The biggest creature I had ever seen.

  Georgie ran right up to the dead cetacean (seh-TAY-shin), which is what whales, porpoises, and dolphins are, and stepped off its length.

  “Fifty feet long!” he shouted. “And very smelly!”

  There was some driftwood lying nearby, so I picked up a long branch and handed my phone to Granpa. “
Take my picture, okay? I want to pretend I harpooned it.”

  After Granpa snapped the photo, I took my phone back from him and began taking pictures and recording voice notes about the whale. You know, things like size (I remeasured, and Georgie was accurate), color (dark gray with a whitish area under its chin), how many little crabs were feasting on it (more than ten), and whether it had baleen or teeth (baleen).

  “Granpa, lend me your Swiss Army knife. I want to chop off a piece of blubber.”

  He was standing upwind so he wouldn’t have to smell it. “No stinking blubber in my car,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Please! Mr. Amato really likes when students do independent investigation, and tomorrow I’ll tell the whole class what I saw.”

  I really like whales. Maybe I’ll be a cetologist (whale scientist) when I grow up.

  Granpa finally agreed. “Okay. But I’ll do the cutting. I don’t want you hacking your nose off.”

  He knelt in the sand next to the whale and made the first cut. The skin was really tough and slippery. He had just gotten the blade in when his phone rang.

  “Answer it, Cheesie,” Granpa said, pointing to his jacket pocket. “I don’t want whale goo on my phone.”

  It was Mom. “Come home now! Right away! Immediately! Chop-chop! It’s time to get ready for the wedding.”

  That was the end of our whaling expedition. Granpa hurried us into his car. It would’ve been so cool to have a hunk of smelly blubber for show-and-tell.

  Darn.

  (What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever brought to show-and-tell? Please go to my website and share it.)

  When we got home, Georgie and I ran to his house to get our fancy clothes. Everyone was zooming around getting ready. We grabbed our tuxedo bags and were heading back to my house when Mr. Sinkoff yelled from his bedroom, “Has anyone seen the wedding ring?! It was on my dresser.”

  “I’ve got it!” Georgie shouted back.

  Mr. Sinkoff came trotting down the stairs. He was wearing striped tuxedo pants just like ours and buttoning his ruffled white shirt.

  “Where is it?” he asked. Mr. Sinkoff seemed very anxious. I guess it was because he hadn’t been married in a long time.

  “Um, I showed it to Mom,” Georgie said. “It’s over at Cheesie’s.” He was a little nervous, but I don’t think Mr. Sinkoff noticed, because he was more nervous.

  “Okay. All right. That’s fine,” Mr. Sinkoff said. “Do not—I repeat, do not—forget it.”

  Georgie started to give his dad a thumbs-up sign, then stopped in midair. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” I hadn’t heard anything.

  Mr. Sinkoff said, “I heard something, too.”

  Georgie got very still. So did I. We were standing in the kitchen, holding our tuxedo bags over our shoulders.

  Then I heard a tiny sound: mew.

  “Uh-oh,” Mr. Sinkoff said softly. “Marlon!” he yelled … and walked out of the kitchen. “Where’s your cat?”

  We followed him.

  Marlon appeared at the top of the stairs. “What’s going on?”

  “Why now?” Mr. Sinkoff said to himself. Then louder, “Marlon, get down here! I think it’s time.”

  Marlon came bounding down the stairs. He had the bottom half of his tuxedo on as well. Mr. Sinkoff put his finger to his lips, and we all stood absolutely still.

  mew

  Marlon reacted instantly. “Squirrel’s down here somewhere. Georgie, you and Cheesie check the laundry room. Dad and I’ll look in the front of the house.”

  Georgie flung his tuxedo bag over a kitchen chair and ran straight into the laundry room. I plopped my bag on top of Georgie’s and followed. My first thought was to look behind the washer or dryer. But Georgie pointed at the door that led to their basement. It was open about four inches.

  “I bet I left it open when I put my dad’s tools back.”

  mew

  The sound was a teeny bit louder. It came from down the steps.

  “Marlon!” Georgie yelled. “She’s in the basement!”

  Marlon was at our side in seconds. Mr. Sinkoff stood behind us, holding his head in his hands and muttering to himself, “She has to do it right now?”

  Georgie and I followed Marlon into the basement.

  “Well,” Marlon said proudly, “I guess I’m an honorary father. Look at these cute puppies.” He was standing next to a beat-up easy chair. Squirrel was on it, licking one of her four kittens.

  Georgie reached out to pet one of them, but Marlon pulled his arm back. “Let Squirrel make her mother connection with her babies. You don’t want to get your human smell on things. It might confuse them.”

  We oohed and aahed until Mr. Sinkoff shouted down the stairs, “Enough with the cats! Are any of you planning to be ready for my wedding?”

  That was our signal to move into super-speed mode. Georgie and I zipped up the stairs, grabbed our clothes bags, and were out the back door and across our yards in record time. Deeb got excited when we ran past her, and followed us up the stairs.

  “Did either of you touch that dead whale?” Mom asked from her bedroom doorway. She was wearing a fancy dress and putting on earrings.

  We both shook our heads, but she obviously didn’t believe us.

  “Get in the bathroom and wash all the way up to your elbows before you even think of putting your tuxedos on.”

  We dropped our clothes bags on my bed and ran into the bathroom. Granpa was already in there, half his face shaved, the other half still lathered up. Georgie and I squeezed in on either side of him.

  Granpa growled, “Watch your elbows and arms here, boys. One wrong move and I might slit my throat … or yours.” He turned on a trickle of water and rinsed his razor blade under it.

  “Mom says we’ve got to wash the whale juice off,” I said, twisting the faucet to pour out more water.

  Granpa shaved. We washed.

  “What the blue blazes is wrong with this sink?” Granpa bellowed. Water had risen to the very top. He turned off the faucet and fiddled with the drain lever. The water didn’t go down.

  “June washed her hair. I bet she clogged it,” I volunteered.

  “There’s got to be a better way to run this house,” Granpa grumbled. He wiped the last of the shaving cream off his face and strode out of the bathroom. Georgie quickly shut the door. He had a very strange look on his face.

  “Cheesie, listen to me. Cheesie! Oh my gosh,” he whispered excitedly. “I promised I’d come up with a Great Idea, right?”

  “You mean squirting Goon?” I asked. “That wasn’t Great. That was Almost Great.”

  Georgie had a wild gleam in his eyes. “What if … Oh my gosh, what if it isn’t Goon’s hair?” He pointed at the water in the sink. It still hadn’t drained. “What if it’s … what if it’s the ring?”

  There was a short silence. And then both of us screamed. Then we instantly got very quiet.

  “Stay here,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

  I zipped across the hall to my room, grabbed Glenn’s metal detector, and was back in the bathroom in eight seconds. It was a new world’s record.

  I switched the detector on and shoved it into the cabinet under the sink. As soon as it neared the plastic drainpipe, it began to beep. And when we touched it to the place where the pipe curved, the beep turned into a screech!

  “Cheesie! Oh my gosh! Cheesie! Oh my gosh!” Georgie said over and over.

  I have never done any plumbing in my life, but I knew sort of exactly what I had to do.

  “I’m getting some tools. Don’t let anybody in,” I said.

  I ran out, heard Georgie lock the door behind me, and was down two flights of stairs and in the basement in a flash. I grabbed all the tools I thought I’d need and headed back up. Since everyone was upstairs getting dressed, I didn’t have to worry about being seen until I neared the second floor. That’s when I got low, moved slow, and peeked. Then ran to the bathroom door and knocked.

&n
bsp; “Go away, June!” Georgie said. “I’m doing things in here.”

  “It’s me,” I whispered loudly.

  He opened the door and let me in, then closed and locked it again.

  “Your sister banged on the door twice while you were gone,” Georgie explained.

  I dumped the tools on the floor with a loud clatter.

  “What’s going on in there?” Mom shouted from her bathroom (which is on the other side of the wall).

  “Just cleaning up!” I shouted back.

  I had no idea where to start. (I bet most kids wouldn’t know, either.) This book is not exactly supposed to be a lesson in plumbing repair, so all I’m going to say is when we took lots of things apart, water squirted up to the ceiling until we found the knobs under the sink to turn it off.

  “Try undoing this pipe,” Georgie said, pointing to the curvy plastic pipe.

  I found a wrench that seemed to fit and turned. It wasn’t easy with Georgie’s head in my way. It didn’t budge.

  “Let me do it,” Georgie said. He gave the wrench a big yank, and the plastic pipe came apart. When it did, all the water in the sink rushed out onto the two of us and all over the floor.

  Sitting in the middle of the puddle were two things: a huge clot of Goon’s hair … and the gold ring!

  *

  * Georgie here: Isn’t this the greatest chapter title you’ve ever seen?!

  “Get out of the bathroom,” Goon screeched from the hallway. “You’ve been in there forever. If I’m late for the wedding, I will kill you so bad you’ll wish you were dead!”

  “Leave me alone!” I yelled back. “I am having a serious bathroom problem!”

  It was kind of true. I was having trouble putting the sink back together. No matter how I did it, there were a couple of parts left over.

  “Move it, boys! Thirty minutes!” Mom yelled through the wall.

  “That’s good enough,” Georgie said. “We better get dressed.”

  We used two towels to mop up the water on the floor and wrapped the tools in them. When we opened the door, Goon was standing right outside. She was completely dressed.

  “Your makeup looks weird,” I said.

  I have no idea what makeup is supposed to look like, but I knew saying anything about it would aggravate her and make it less likely she’d notice our towel bundles. And she didn’t. She just pushed by us into the bathroom. I glanced over my shoulder.