“Can I feed ’em too?”
“We’ll get to that. If I think you can be careful, I’ll let you feed them in a minute. Now, here are the gecko rules, so listen carefully.”
“Gecko rules.”
“Here’s what you need to know.”
Bernardo waits.
All Carlos can think is, Can I trust this guy?
“What are the rules?”
“Okay, first, they’re leopard geckos . . .”
“That’s why they have the spots.”
“Right. And two are female,” he reminds Bernardo.
“Girl geckos?”
“Yes,” Carlos says. “’Cause males would fight each other. So you can’t have two males.”
Bernardo’s eyes widen. “Why do they fight?”
“’Cause they both want to be the boss. It’s the same with dogs.”
“How do you know so much?”
“I want to be a zoologist and work with animals. Or, I want to be an entomologist—someone who studies insects and learns things and maybe works for a lab or something. I’ve been looking stuff up.”
Carlos pulls out the bottom dresser drawer and removes a towel covering a plastic container of live crickets. The container has air holes so the crickets can breathe. Their very muffled chirping gets louder. “You mustn’t overfeed geckos,” he says. “Crickets are the best food, vitamin-wise. We get these at the pet store. And the crickets have to be fed too. Otherwise they eat their own poop.”
Bernardo’s eyes widen. “What!” He looks at the crickets in the container.
“Yeah, that’s the way I felt when I first heard that. So I feed the crickets stuff like a little bit of carrots or orange. Now, you don’t want to give the geckos too many crickets, ’cause they won’t eat them all, and then you’ll have crickets that the geckos can’t finish. Then you’ll be hearing them chirping all night long.”
Carlos sees a little smile cross Bernardo’s face.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
Carlos goes on. “And—listen good—don’t let any crickets get away, because that happened once and we kept hearing the chirping but we couldn’t find it and . . . You just don’t want that to happen.”
“Okay,” Bernardo says. “Can I feed the geckos now?”
Carlos is still reluctant, but he gives in and hands Bernardo the container. “Keep the lid on and listen.” He instructs Bernardo to open the container inside the terrarium and carefully, carefully, pour just a few crickets in. Unless he wants to use his hand.
Bernardo nods quickly and reaches for the container. Carlos jerks it back. “You remember what I said, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bernardo says.
Carlos hands him the plastic container, slowly.
Bernardo follows Carlos’s instructions. He reaches into the terrarium and shakes out three crickets. Darla notices them first. Gizmo is in the cave, and Peaches is at the far end of the terrarium. Darla freezes and stares at the cricket. The cricket seems to freeze as well.
“Watch this,” Carlos says. “She’s real good at this.”
Bernardo’s mouth drops open.
Quickly, the gecko sticks out her tongue and laps up the cricket.
“Whoa,” Bernardo exclaims. He turns to Carlos, eyes wide.
“See?” Carlos says. “But sometimes the geckos have to go after the cricket, and that gives them exercise.”
He tells Bernardo he can feed the ants next. He might as well let him do both. The ants are much easier. Carlos shows Bernardo how to carefully remove the plastic top of the farm to sprinkle in a few cracker crumbs and then, using the eyedropper, place a few drops of water on the sand.
He breathes a sigh of relief when it all goes well. They watch the ants moving through their tunnels for a bit, and then Bernardo brushes the palms of his hands together like a person who’s finished a great task and says, “I’m hungry. What’s for breakfast?”
He turns and bounds down the stairs. Carlos takes a last look at his creatures and follows behind.
Eight
Soccer Practice
“Soccer practice after school,” Mami says, handing Carlos and Bernardo sack lunches. “Make sure you’re standing on the school steps, pronto. Last time, we were late, and Coach Willis wasn’t too pleased.” She directs them to the front door. “And don’t be late to school, either.”
But Bernardo has a problem with lollygagging. When they pass Rick B’s Junkyard, he decides to aggravate the killer guard dog by laughing and rattling the chainlink fence until the slobbering hound is rushing it, barking and snarling.
“Ha-ha,” Bernardo laughs. “That dog can’t do nothin’!” He barks back at the dog.
“Bernardo, cut it out.”
“Why? He can’t get me through the fence.”
“Because it’s not fair to the dog.”
“I don’t care about being fair to the dog.”
They pass Global Tire and Brakes, and Bernardo sneaks into the customer waiting room to get some gumballs out of the dispenser.
Carlos calls after him that they’re going to be late, but winds up saying it to Bernardo’s retreating back.
Carlos decides to continue on to school by himself. If Bernardo gets lost, too bad. He’s sick of Bernardo. He doesn’t make his bed; he leaves his pajamas on the floor in the bathroom. And Carlos suspects that he’s not really showering at night. And he leaves blobs of spitty toothpaste in the sink and doesn’t rinse it out. How can anybody brush their teeth over that?
Last night, Carlos had brought up his complaints to Mami when Bernardo was out of earshot. “He’s missing his mother,” Mami explained.
“He doesn’t act like it. When she calls, he gets off the phone real quick so he can get back to his video game.”
“Be patient with him. He’s your cousin. And family’s important.”
“I know. How can I forget?”
Bernardo catches up to Carlos and they reach the schoolyard just as the line-up bell rings. Bernardo gets into the line behind Carlos, chewing his gum loudly. Carlos vows to say nothing. If Bernardo gets into trouble, it’ll just be too bad. No school allows gum chewing, so he won’t be able to play dumb. But then Carlos thinks better of it. “You better get rid of that gum,” he whispers to Bernardo. He can see Ms. Shelby-Ortiz making her way over to their line.
“What?” Bernardo says out loud.
Deja turns around and glares at him. “Shhh,” she hisses. “No talking!”
Bernardo flinches. “Who’s that girl?”
Carlos ignores the question. Bernardo stops the obvious chewing.
Ms. Shelby-Ortiz walks up, inspects the line, and signals for them to start for the classroom.
Bernardo suddenly has to make a trip to the bathroom right after school. Carlos heads to the front entrance, where Mami is probably sitting in the car, tapping the steering wheel impatiently. She’s not supposed to stop right in front of the school. There’s a policeman who sometimes circles the building in his patrol car at dismissal time, just so he can tell people to move along. Well, Bernardo knows where the front steps are. Better for Carlos to get out there and let Mami be annoyed with just one of them, as opposed to them both.
Carlos is happy to see that the coast is clear out front. No policeman. Mami must be running late. Bernardo saunters up just as Mami pulls in front of the school. Is the guy never in a hurry?
Carlos climbs into the back seat next to Issy. She’s strapped into her kid seat because she hasn’t reached the right weight to use just the seat belt. Bernardo gets in the front. Carlos sighs nervously. He’s not looking forward to practice, after last week. He couldn’t do anything right. Coach Willis had them work in pairs and practice passing the ball to each other. There was so much to remember: use the base of the ankle; make sure the ankle is locked on the follow-through . . . He kept messing up and annoying his partner, this kid from another school named Barton Holmby. How many times did he have to run after the b
all while Barton waited with his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face?
Then he’d actually complained to Coach Willis. “Can I get another partner?” he’d called out in front of everybody. “I’m not getting enough practice.”
Carlos knows Barton is a whiny kid. Always complaining and blaming others when he makes a mistake. Always getting his mother to complain about this or that, while he stands a little ways away, watching. But still, it was embarrassing.
“Do your best,” Coach Willis had called back to him.
Today at practice they’re paired up and practicing dribbling and passing again. Carlos looks over at Bernardo and his partner. They seem to be doing great. He knows Coach Willis is noticing. Coach will probably be thrilled to put Big Bernardo on the team. “So what else is new?” Carlos says under his breath. It’s his favorite phrase.
Next, they run the cones, and Coach Willis has to keep telling Carlos and a few other players, “Keep hunched! Don’t straighten.” After a while, he catches sight of Bernardo and smiles broadly. “Bernardo! Get over here.”
Bernardo has a funny look on his face. He’s probably wondering if he’s in trouble. Did he do something wrong?
Carlos watches, trying not to be obvious. After Coach Willis and Bernardo finish conferencing, Coach starts calling kids in from the field—Carlos included.
When there are about six of them standing around, Coach Willis announces, “Bernardo here is going to work with you. He’s got good technique, so do what he says.”
Carlos doesn’t want to work with Bernardo. He doesn’t want to do what Bernardo tells him. But he keeps his mouth shut as he watches Bernardo demonstrate a dribble using both the inside and the outside of his foot.
Practice is easier when Coach Willis isn’t zeroing in on their technique over and over, and bringing a player’s weakness to everyone’s attention. Carlos is almost relieved when Coach finally blows his whistle and calls them all over to him. He says, “Okay, count off, and we’ll play a little practice game.” That’s the way it always goes—first the skills, and then a practice game. That’s when Carlos gets to run around, mimicking the other players, looking like he’s doing something. Hoping he’ll get better.
Sometimes he wonders why he even plays soccer. Then he remembers it’s because of Papi. He wants to please Papi. Papi is a big soccer fan, so he probably keeps hoping that one day Carlos will wake up and be really good.
When Mami picks them up, Bernardo recounts in detail all the things he noticed about the other players and how Coach Willis had him help with some of the kids who just weren’t getting it.
He turns to Carlos. “You need to try harder,” he says. “It looks like you’re just waiting for practice to be over.” Then he launches into more talk about himself. Carlos has to put up with this the entire ride home. It even carries over to dinner. And what’s worse is that Papi sits there, looking interested in what he has to say.
“So Coach Willis had you helping some of your teammates?”
“Yeah.” Bernardo looks over at Carlos.
“Wow! I’m not surprised.” Papi turns to Carlos. “So how did you do, Carlos?”
“Bernardo was helping Carlos, too,” Issy says.
“Oh?” Papi asks.
“Yeah,” Carlos admits. What more is there to say?
“Just what did he have to help you with?”
Before Carlos can answer Papi’s question, Bernardo pipes up with, “Carlos was having a lot of problems with dribbling and returning the ball.”
“Hmm,” Papi says. “So, Carlos, that’s probably what you need to focus on.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Carlos says.
He’s relieved when dinner is over and he can escape to his room to check on his creatures. Papi and Bernardo will probably find some sports thing to watch on TV. Then Bernardo can show Papi what a big sports guy he is.
Nine
Where’s the Woolly Mammoth’s Ear?
The next morning at school, the journal topic is “My Favorite Time of Day.” Carlos stares at it for a minute. He looks over at Bernardo. He’s drawing some kind of action figure from The Return of Lizard Man on the cover of his journal. He supposes Bernardo will eventually get started writing. Sometimes Ms. Shelby-Ortiz will call for a volunteer to read their entry. He’s hoping she’ll do that this time. Sometimes she’ll “volunteer” a person who doesn’t want to read. Bernardo is pushing his luck, thinking he can just fool around like that.
Carlos opens his journal and turns to the next clean page. He writes the day’s date in the upper right-hand corner. He stares at the topic on the board, then writes it on the first line. “My Favorite Time of Day.” This is an easy one for him. He already knows what his favorite time of day is. It’s that time when he first walks into his room after school—before Mami starts nagging him about his homework or some chore—and he looks around and thinks, All this is mine. When he gets his butterfly habitat, he will have the most interesting room in the world.
He likes to see what the geckos have been up to—or imagine what they’ve been up to in the gecko world, doing gecko things that happen just between geckos. He likes to get his snack, sneak it into his room if possible, then sit in the middle of his bed and eat it while looking down on his domain.
“Ms. Shelby-Ortiz,” Calvin calls out. He’s coming back from the pencil sharpener and has stopped next to the class puzzle table. Ms. Shelby-Ortiz looks up from some papers she’s correcting at her desk.
“What is it, Calvin?”
“We’re almost finished with the Extinct Species jigsaw puzzle.”
“I noticed, but, Calvin, did you really need to disturb the class, calling out like that?”
Calvin returns to his seat, blowing on the sharpened pencil lead.
Carlos has filled half a journal page and still has so much more to write about his room. But before he knows it, Ms. Shelby-Ortiz is telling the class to put their pencils down. Then she says the words he’s hoping to hear.
“Any volunteers who’d like to share their journal entry?”
Carlos’s hand flies up. He really wants to share his entry. Unfortunately, Ms. Shelby-Ortiz is looking the other way, toward Sheila Sharpe, who’s waving her hand as well. Sheila Sharpe is really shy and almost never speaks up. Ms. Shelby-Ortiz picks her instead of Carlos. She is probably trying to encourage Sheila to be more outgoing.
Carlos thinks that Bernardo should be happy Ms. Shelby-Ortiz didn’t “volunteer” him. So far, the only thing he’s written on his journal page is the date and one sentence.
Sheila stands up next to her desk and begins to read out loud:
“My favorite time of day is when I get home from school. My mom usually has a nice snack waiting for me, and after I finish that, my mom lets me relax before I have to do my homework. I like to go into my bedroom. That’s where all my stuffed animals are. I like to play with them for a while and arrange them on my bed and look at them. My bedroom is pink and gray. I have a pink canopy bed and pink and gray curtains . . .”
Carlos stops paying attention. It’s so boring. If he had been able to read his journal entry, everyone would have been really interested. He’d have gotten in some really interesting information about his geckos and his ant farm.
Stuffed animals? What does a stuffed animal do? Nothing. It just sits there where you put it last. Sits there and does nothing, with a stupid look on its face. He sighs. Calvin Vickers yawns loudly, and Ms. Shelby-Ortiz gives him a sharp look. She’s already lectured everyone on being a good listener, and yawning loudly in the middle of another person’s sharing is a big no-no.
Carlos hopes that maybe Ms. Shelby-Ortiz plans to call on someone else when Sheila Sharpe finally concludes. He checks the clock. There’s still reading in pairs to do.
“And that’s my favorite time of day,” Sheila finally says.
Yes! Carlos thinks, and shoots his hand up. He jiggles it to draw his teacher’s attention toward him. He looks around. What? Gavin’s got
his hand up? Now Ms. Shelby-Ortiz is looking back and forth between the two of them. Me, me! he thinks, and waits for Ms. Shelby-Ortiz to see the pleading in his eyes.
But her eyes go up to the clock over the whiteboard. “It looks like we need to move on. Class, get into your pairs for reading. Oh, and Carlos, remember you’re with Bernardo.”
Great. And he doesn’t even get the pleasure of standing up and moving to a different location. All he has to do is open his book to where they left off and wait for Bernardo to dig around in his desk in search of his own book.
Bernardo finds it eventually, pulls it out, and looks at Carlos. “What page?” he asks.
Carlos tells him, then says, “I’ll go first.” Carlos reads the first paragraph of a story called “Monkey and Chameleon.” It’s actually interesting, and it gives Carlos an idea about chameleons. He wonders if it’s possible to get a pet chameleon. That would be awesome. He thinks of his room. It does have space for a cage. Would a chameleon be happy in a cage? He’ll have to read up on it.
He finishes the first paragraph and waits for Bernardo to pick up where he left off. There’s a moment of silence while Carlos watches Bernardo stare at his paragraph. He reads the opening sentence super slowly but stops on the word together. Carlos tells him the word.
“I know that’s together. I was just getting ready to say it.”
Don't Feed the Geckos! Page 4