“You might like tacos, puppy boy,” I told Harry. “But we have to make a phone call first.”
The problem with the phone booth is that it’s directly opposite from Ms. Shephard. She’s the receptionist who has a teeny office right inside the front door, and she thinks she’s paid to know everything about anybody’s business.
I ignored her snoopy smile and shut the door.
I dialed Jody’s number. After four rings, I was thinking, Duh, she’s at school, when someone answered with a hello that covered half a keyboard.
“Hello?” You could never tell from reading the word how many notes were involved. It must be Jody’s mother.
“Uh, yes, hello? I need to speak with Jody, I mean, I know she’s at school, but I need to give her a message.”
“I can take a message for you, dear.” She was practically singing. “But she won’t be home tonight. Jody is participating in a little state science fair at Putter College. The Putter College Young Inventors Competition. The final demonstrations are taking place this evening—”
“But it’s very important that I speak with her today!”
“Well, I suppose you could leave a message at the Bingham School. I don’t think the bus is leaving until after class time. Who is this, dear?”
“Thank you,” I said. And I hung up. I was sweating. Harry was gnawing on something that I couldn’t see. I carefully shifted my feet so I wouldn’t step on him.
This news was terrible. It was disastrous, horrible, calamitous. There weren’t enough words to say how completely awful this was.
I felt Harry’s tail thwacking against my ankle. I knelt down to pet him with tears prickling my eyes.
“Come on, Harry,” I said, buttoning him into my sweater again. “We have to consult with Hubert.”
I got back to class just as the lunch bell rang.
“How are you feeling, Billie?” asked Mr. Donaldson from the doorway as I grabbed Hubert.
“Much better, thanks.”
“So what really happened?” asked Hubert on the way to the cafeteria.
“There’s bad news, and there’s worse news,” I told him.
Alyssa and Megan joined the line behind us, balancing their trays on their heads.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the little lovebirds!” exclaimed Alyssa in her shrieky voice. “Let’s just sit at the next table and get all warm and fuzzy….”
So much for my conversation with Hubert. I fed most of my taco to Harry by spilling it down my front. He was still buttoned into my sweater and very happy to get room service.
Sixth-graders have the outstanding privilege of being allowed to leave school grounds without a pass. This means that we tend to exit in a herd right after lunch, when we are the most hungry, and go to the deli down the block.
I paused on the front steps of the school, making Hubert stay back while I tied the skipping rope around Harry’s neck and let it trail down from my backpack in a way that looked casual but was pretty secure.
“When was the last time you played with a skipping rope, Billie?” asked Hubert, with a sneer for my plan.
I socked him on the arm.
“About three years ago,” I admitted. “Anyway, I tried to call Jody.”
I filled him in while we caught up with the others.
“You just love trouble, don’t you?” he asked. “And it loves you.”
“I’m going to wait out here,” I told him when we got to the store. “See the sign? No Dogs Allowed.”
He looked at me and shook his head before he went grumbling inside.
Less than a minute later, Harry gave such a tug on the rope that I was jerked around sideways. A teenager boy was coming our way holding a bundle of leashes connected to a pack of dogs.
Harry was so excited to see a party of his own kind that he yelped and pulled hard enough that the skipping rope came undone from my pack. It slithered along the sidewalk, following what must be a fast-running Harry.
13 • A Knight with No Armor
The boy stared, first at the rope and then at me. His dogs were barking a chorus of greetings, and their master couldn’t figure out why.
He had a dalmatian and a golden Lab and a sheepdog and two rottweilers. Five huge dogs, all sniffing and barking and prancing in a tizzy over my little Harry.
“Yo!” said the boy.
He was about seventeen maybe. He was wearing his baseball hat backward, and his skin was the color of fudge brownies. Just like a million other teenagers in New York City, his shoelaces were untied.
“Yo!” I tried to sound like it wasn’t the first time I’d ever said it.
“Whassup?” the boy asked. It took me a second to realize he’d said “What’s up?” And I was working on my answer when he continued.
“Whaddya got there?”
We watched together as the skipping rope became more and more ensnarled with the leashes of his charges, creating a spaghetti-like mess of leather and nylon and fluorescent pink plastic.
“Are all those yours?” I asked.
“Nah. I’m a dog walker. It’s my job. I love dogs. But I gotta admit, I never saw one like yours before.” He turned his brown eyes on me and showered me with such a twinkling smile that I knew instantly I could trust him.
“Listen,” I said, “maybe you can help me. I … I … I have this problem. My dog got invisible.”
“I can see that.”
“And I need to make him reappear, but it’s really hard for him to be at school, and I’m having trouble finding …”
The boy knelt down and felt for Harry in the muddle of dogs.
“Hey,” he said gently, “I’m cool. I’ll take your dog for the afternoon. He seems to get along with my gang. You do what you have to do.”
“Can you come back at three-fifteen when we get out?” I pleaded.
The door of the deli swung open, and Hubert came out with a coconut Frozfruit in his mouth. Charley and Alyssa were on his tail. Half the sixth grade were crowding out behind them.
They all stopped dead at the sight of the boy and me.
“What’s his name?” I was being asked a question.
“His name is Harry,” I whispered.
“Harry? I like it. I’m Sam, by the way.”
“Hi, Sam,” I said, feeling relieved and terrified at the same time. “I’m Billie. I’m, um, not supposed to, you know—”
He grinned. “Talk to strangers? Or have an invisible puppy? Which is worse?”
I grinned back.
“I’ll catch you at three-fifteen, Shortie.”
He winked and leaned over to straighten out the leashes wrapped around his legs, clicking his tongue and murmuring to the dogs. I kept watching until he sauntered off down the block, saluting me without looking back.
“Billie!” Alyssa’s screech broke my trance. “You were talking to that … that … drug dealer!”
“He’s not a drug dealer, you idiot,” I scoffed.
“Only drug dealers have five dogs for protection,” she insisted. “You are really begging for trouble.”
She clattered off toward school on her stupid new platform shoes from Delia’s.
“The guy was looking for Morton Street,” I said to the other kids. “Not selling heroin.”
Hubert pulled on my arm as we all headed back to school.
“You let him take Harry? A total stranger? Have you completely lost your brain?”
“He’s just going to dog-sit for the afternoon. First, you were itching about having him in class, and now you’re twitching that I came up with a better solution.”
“We’ll see,” he said, threatening doom.
“Come on,” I said as we went inside. “I still have to get in touch with Jody. I’m going to have to call her school.”
Hubert balanced the phone book on his knees while I looked up Bingham School. I’d never even heard of it. It sounded snooty and English. No wonder Jody hated it. I dialed the number. A snooty person with an English accent answered.
“Yes,” I said, lowering my voice and trying to make it boom a little. “Yes, I need to speak to one of your students on an urgent matter. Could you contact Jody Greengard, please?”
“I can take your number and have her call you back at the class interval.”
“No, no, that won’t do,” I said firmly, and sounding very mature. “I will wait on the line for you to locate her. This is of the utmost urgency!”
Hubert snorted. I kicked his shin. I was delighted with myself. Where were these words coming from? I could hear the secretary complaining to someone, but she went off to do my bidding.
I had to add two extra nickels to the phone while I waited, but finally I heard Jody’s voice, breathless and wary.
“Hello? Hello?”
“Jody, it’s me, Billie, I’m sorry, but I had to talk to you.”
“Oh, my God, I thought someone had died,” said Jody, laughing and whispering. “Thanks for getting me out of music. We should do this more often. Actually, I can’t really talk here. Let me call you right back on my cell phone. What’s the number?”
I read her the numbers written on the front of the pay phone.
“I’ll call you right back, as soon as I get to the bathroom,” promised Jody.
Those three minutes felt like twenty-three minutes. The bell ending the lunch break sounded. Hubert scuttled back to class, armed with a story about gum on my sneaker to cover my lateness.
Alone, I suddenly panicked, thinking Harry should be with me. I’d had his tail or his tongue or his warmth next to me all day. His panting had been as steady as a heartbeat. Now I felt I’d lost something.
When the phone finally rang, it echoed in the booth like a saucepan lid falling down stairs. I snatched the receiver with both hands.
“What’s up?” Jody asked without wasting time on a hello. “How’s Harry? Pepper misses him so much, you wouldn’t believe it. The last two nights she keeps nudging the other puppies, like she’s counting them, and then she trots all over the house, looking for Harry. How is he?”
“Oh, I feel so bad for Pepper. Harry’s okay, except it’s not working out very well.” I told her about Harry’s day at school, and about the choked and chilling feeling I had when he got lost in the playground.
“Where is he now?”
I told her about Sam.
“He sounds totally cute,” said Jody.
“Well, I guess he is,” I said. “But that’s not the point. It’s just not, uh, responsible for Harry to live this way. It’s not fair. We have to make him reappear, and then I have to give him back to you.” I swallowed so I wouldn’t cry. “I’m sorry. I know he needs a home.”
“Billie, I’m really impressed with you. You’re completely right about all of this. Have you got a pencil?” Her voice dropped low. “Someone just came into the next stall.”
We waited for the flush before Jody went on. “The competition is tonight, so there’s nothing I can do today. Tomorrow is a half day, in honor of our founder, the great Bernice Bingham.” She made a gagging noise.
“So, I could come down at the end of morning classes to pick him up. I’m sorry. I know you really want him. I’ll give you the recipe for the bath. You’ll have to do it yourself. Get Hubert to help you. I’ll give you my cell phone number, just in case. Have you got a piece of paper? Okay, listen …”
She recited a list of ingredients, and I wrote them down on the back page of the phone book.
“That’s it,” she said. “I gotta go. Good luck, okay?”
She hung up. I could hear my heart. I raced back to class, where they were splitting up into groups for poetry study. I attached myself to Hubert and talked fast.
“I called Jody. She gave me the recipe. Most of it is easy stuff to get, like water and talcum powder and dog biscuits. Then there’s the chewed-up-gum juice.”
Hubert cracked the first smile I’d seen all day.
“I remember the last time we had to do this,” he whispered, pretending to study the verse in front of him. “I must have chewed about twelve packs of gum in one day.”
“In one hour,” I told him proudly. “You were the best. We collected gobs of it in paper cups. But that’s the easy part. We also have to get tubers of lilyturf and make teas from chrysanthemum flowers and powdered goat horn. How the heck are we going to do that?”
Now Hubert’s smile turned big and pearly enough to make him a poster boy for Dentists of America.
“No problem,” he said happily. “Call your dad and ask if you can come over to my place after school. I know exactly where to find what we need.”
14 • Chinatown
When we came out of the building at three-fifteen, Sam was waiting at the foot of the steps. He had only the sheepdog and the dalmatian, along with Harry’s pink lead. He was being eyed suspiciously by the assistant principal who oversees the departures, but as soon as Sam smiled, even that iceberg melted.
Making the handover was a delicate operation, with so many people all around us, but Hubert and I had prepared in advance.
Hubert greeted his mother and begged her to get us a drink from the deli. I signaled Sam to follow us, and while we waited outside the store for Hubert’s mom, Sam passed me Harry, away from the prying onlookers at school.
“Yo!” I said. “Thanks a million. I mean it.”
“Hey,” said Sam, “this is a mighty puppy. Same time tomorrow?”
“Well, I don’t know,” I faltered. “I might not have him anymore … but …”
“I’ll come by anyway, just to check.” He flashed another radiant smile. “See ya, Shortie.”
I nodded, hoping he knew how grateful I was. He strolled away, just as our drinks arrived.
I love going to Hubert’s house. It’s an apartment, just big enough for his parents and him, on the corner of Canal Street and Mulberry, right in the heart of Chinatown.
Canal Street is bursting with busyness. The sidewalk is crowded with market stalls selling everything from huge fish with their heads on, to eels to bok choy to lemongrass, and lots of other things that Americans don’t usually eat. There are bins and bins of dried—well, dried things, that I have no idea what they are. All the signs are in Chinese. It all gets weighed on old-fashioned scales and packaged in little red bags. It seems like a different country.
“I pick up few things for supper,” said Hubert’s mom at the entrance of his building. “You want come?”
She talks in shorthand, as if using all those little connecting words is just another sign of American wastefulness.
“Nah,” said Hubert. “We’ll see you upstairs, Mama.”
“You have key?”
He showed it to her. She kissed him and went off down the street, swallowed up by the crowd in seconds.
I turned to go inside. Hubert pulled me back out to the sidewalk.
“Come on, Billie. This is our chance. Follow me.”
I wasn’t used to Hubert being the leader, but since we were on his territory, it seemed right.
“Wait a sec,” I said. I took Harry out of my pack and put the skipping rope around his neck. He might as well get some exercise.
We stepped into the flow of people and trotted along, past food stalls and guys selling fake designer watches and handbags and glittery jewelry and sunglasses.
Harry was tugging this way and that, trying to smell everything. We turned off Canal onto a twisty side street, full of restaurants and blinking dragons on lit-up signs.
Hubert stopped suddenly beside a window painted with lots of Chinese characters and then in English:
LIN HOP SISTERS
HERBAL SPECIALISTS
“This is it,” Hubert said with satisfaction. “They’ll have everything, I’m sure of it.”
Inside was a long glass counter displaying twisted roots and dry, gnarly twigs. Baskets holding pods and seeds and brown petals. Huge mushrooms and anthills of different-colored powders.
It’s kin
d of amazing how, in New York, a person can find a brand-new something to look at every day.
The wall behind the counter was made of wooden drawers. From the ceiling all the way down were rows of drawers, each about the size of a dictionary. In a slot above each handle was a card with a character, I guess saying what was inside. All I could think was how tidy my room would be if I had all those places to put stuff in.
There were two women wearing white doctor jackets behind the counter. I realized they were twin pharmacists.
They were wearing pins printed with their names, Lin Lee and Lin Sue. Lin Lee said something to Hubert in Chinese. I haven’t heard Hubert speak Chinese very often—he always uses English in front of me, even with his mom.
But, even in another language, I could tell he was feeling shy. I pulled out the list for him to explain what we needed, and the woman looked curious and surprised. Her voice was like chimes; Hubert’s was softer, like a flute. I felt as if I were listening to a concert.
Lin Lee opened a drawer and pulled out a fistful of chrysanthemum petals, looking brown and wilted, like they do a week after Mother’s Day. Then a little pile of what looked like overgrown rice. That was the tubers of lilyturf. The powdered goat horn came in a tiny brown bottle.
She wrote down what I figured were the prices on a paper bag as she went along, but I couldn’t read them. I nervously fingered the eight dollars my dad had given me that morning.
She gave the price to Hubert in Chinese, and he translated for me.
“Five dollars and eighty-two cents,” he said. “Do you have enough?”
I handed her six one-dollar bills and took the lumpy bag in exchange. She gave me eighteen cents and wished us “Happy Luck” in English.
Outside it was getting darker already.
“We have to get dog food,” I reminded Hubert. “Harry hasn’t eaten since breakfast. The book says he has to eat at least three times a day, maybe four.”
We stopped at a dim, poky grocery store on the corner and bought two tins of food and the smallest box of dog biscuits.
At Hubert’s house, I used the can opener on the Power Puppy Beef with Cheddar Surprise. It was disgustingly slimy and smelled like barf. I dumped it onto a saucer and put the dish on the floor. The muck disappeared as Harry slurped and chomped his way through it.
The Invisible Harry Page 4