“People will love it? It’s not even scary. I can’t believe you are making me do this!”
“Sometimes we all have to help out the Mars Menagerie.”
“Sometimes it would be nice if it were someone else helping besides me!”
HALLOWEEN MORNING
“This will be the worst Halloween ever.” I don’t even keep my voice down during class I’m so mad. Who cares if Ms. Raffeli looks over at me with those eyebrows? I’m getting used to grouchy grown-ups. I mean, Grumpy Pigeon Man grumbles at me every morning about his pigeons. That guy has got to learn to give a compliment every once in a while!
“At least you guys go together,” Viva says. “I always have to be with my dad. It’s so embarrassing.”
“Come with us,” Lonnie says right away.
“Really?” Viva sits up. She looks genuinely excited.
“You might want to think about this,” I say. “Trick-or-treating with your parents is bad, but going with my brother is worse.”
Lonnie ignores my comment. “Meet us at Teddy’s house at five o’clock.”
Viva smiles. “I’d have to ask my parents. And you know they’ll call your dad and check on everything. They ask about a billion questions whenever I go to someone’s house. Even so, my dad still might come.” She laughs when she says this, but her face is red, which makes me think being an only child isn’t always wonderful. “Oh, and my costume’s not so good either.”
“With a brother like mine, no one will even pay attention to you. I promise.”
Ms. Raffeli shows up at our desks and all conversation stops.
COSTUME MISHAPS
Viva was right about her parents calling and checking on us. They really gave Dad the third degree but they finally agreed she could come.
Because Mom’s not here and Dad spent all his time making the cat box costume, Lonnie and I are stuck in the same costumes we’ve been in for three years. I mean, our robes are so short our legs stick out. Darth Maul does not wear sneakers, or if he does, no one sees them. But everyone can see ours. And Mom wasn’t there to do our face paint. Nothing against Lonnie’s mom, but she wouldn’t do the Darth Maul face. “It freaks me out too much,” she said. So we had to do it ourselves.
“I don’t mind being matching Darth Mauls again,” Lonnie says. “He’s creepy.”
“Not after three years. I want to be something else. Something scarier.”
“What’s scarier than Darth Maul?”
“A 5 pound 3 ounce hair ball removed from someone’s stomach seems pretty horrific. The white shark is the most dangerous shark in the world. That would have been a good costume. I would have even settled for the gaboon viper, which happens to be the snake with the longest fangs.”
The Destructor looks up from out of his cat box costume. “I think you look scary.”
“You live in a cat box most of your life,” I say. “I’m not sure about your opinion.”
Lonnie shakes his head, and then says, “First off, we couldn’t have made any of those costumes, and second off, you’re just mad because you got stuck with your little brother. But think about it, it’s got to be better than the time Jerome took us.”
“Wait till tonight is over, Lonnie, then you’ll know. There’s really no comparison.”
YOU CALL THAT A BAD COSTUME?
“I’ll get it!” The Destructor screams and charges to the door. He opens it. Standing there is the creepiest skin-dripping-off-bones, guts-spewing-out-from-the-neck zombie creature.
“AHHHH!” he wails and runs back to me. I understand his reaction. There is no category for scariest costume in The Guinness Book of World Records but if there were this one would win. It looks so real.
“Hey, Lonnie,” the zombie creature says. “Hey, Teddy.”
“Viva?” Lonnie asks.
“Yeah.” She nods.
I can’t believe it. It’s Viva. Viva is in the best costume I have ever seen.
“Is this your little brother?” she asks. “Like I need to ask. Nice cat box.”
“That’s Viva?” The Destructor says. His voice is full of awe. I understand why.
“Seriously creepy,” Lonnie says. “I don’t even recognize you.”
“My mom and dad did it. They love Halloween.”
“I thought you said you wouldn’t have a good costume?” I say.
“This is nothing compared to last year’s.”
“The face paint is outstanding,” Lonnie says.
“They get this professional stuff. They also make molds for the fake skin.”
Now I want to get Halloween over with even more than I did before Viva showed up. “Let’s get going,” I say. No one listens.
“You look incredible,” Lonnie says.
“You guys look good too,” she says. “Who did your faces?”
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go before the candy runs out.” That gets their attention.
REVENGE
The rest of the night is pretty much as I expected. Every house oohs and aahs over Viva’s costume and thinks The Destructor is adorable and says nothing to Lonnie and me.
The Destructor also pulls me down the street, charges up to every door, grabs fistfuls of candy, never says trick-or-treat or thank you, complains that he’s tired, but whines at the top of his voice when I suggest we take him home.
So we keep going.
We do not stop at Grumpy Pigeon Man’s house. Of course his lights are on, but I don’t even bother.
I know I shouldn’t, but I let The Destructor eat as much candy as he wants. I doubt my father will ever ask me to take him out for Halloween again.
NOVEMBER
RECORD ATTEMPT 8
The month of October was a real washout in terms of breaking a world record. But I’ve got a new idea. Rubber bands. Shay Horay (Rubberband Boy, as he is called) got the record for stretching 78 rubber bands over his face in one minute. I seriously think I can beat this record.
“Lonnie, you’re in charge of timing me.”
“Ready when you are,” he says.
The one hundred rubber bands that I got from Mom’s desk are all laid out so they’re easy to pick up. I really thought this record through and am sure I’m going to break it.
“Ready. Set. GO!” I say. I grab a rubber band and stretch it over my face. I’ve put on about twenty-five when Lonnie shouts, “Thirty more seconds!”
There are three things I can’t fathom.
1. How slow I am at getting these on—I’m not even halfway!
2. How painful rubber bands on the face actually are. They tug at your skin, your hair, your lips.
3. I’m actually in so much pain I forgot my third point.
But I don’t stop. Maybe I can still make it.
“One minute!” Lonnie shouts. “Stop!”
Lonnie stares at me. “Wow, you’re as ugly as an Acklay, an Acklay without teeth that is. Make that an Acklay without teeth after Obi-Wan Kenobi kills it.”
“I can’t see a thing, Lonnie. Get me out of here. Seriously. Help.”
FAILED ATTEMPT 8
Besides Mom having to cut me out of the rubber bands, and my hair getting tangled in them so she had to chop it off in a bunch of places, and of course the fact that my face still has rubber band marks all over it after two days, it wasn’t so bad.
This must mean I’m getting closer to breaking a record.
YOU NUT-O
“A month,” Grace says.
“A month what?” I ask.
“A month! You nut-o! Do I really have to spell it out for you? Really?”
I can tell she’s waiting for an answer but just for the fun of it I don’t give her one. “You’ve lived out here for a month! Now don’t move. The last picture was blurry.”
Click!
THE DESTRUCTOR’S BEEN TRYING
The Destructor’s been trying to move in with me ever since I moved out.
“No way,” I say. And for once, Mom backs me up.
When i
t’s time to go to bed Jake cries, “Teddy!” in this way like I’m never coming back.
“It’s okay, Destructor,” I say. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Then he holds me so tight I think toothpaste might squeeze out of me.
I DON’T KNOW WHY
I don’t know why but Grumpy Pigeon Man still wakes me up every morning. Of course, my parents have not bought me an alarm clock. The chances of that happening are about as good as me getting into The Guinness Book of World Records.
Anyway, I don’t know why Grumpy Pigeon Man wakes me and I don’t know why he wants me to take care of his birds. He still stays with me the whole time and still grumbles about everything I do wrong.
He could do it himself. He’s slow but the pigeons don’t care. They’re on pigeon time. I ask him why he needs my help, but he never answers. So I keep showing up.
For some reason I can’t help thinking about this monk who lived a long time ago (386–459 CE) but is in The Guinness Book of World Records anyway because he sat on a stone pillar for 39 years. You know that was uncomfortable.
Mom says some things aren’t comfortable or easy, like having seven children, but you still do them.
After that Blob business I’ve stopped listening to her because what she says is just weird, but she might have a point.
TRASH DUTY
“Trash duty?” the twins sputter.
“Trash duty,” Dad repeats. Apparently, being grounded wasn’t enough of a punishment because the twins switched places again the day after Halloween. “You both will be on trash duty at school. For the next six weeks, you’ll be cleaning up the school grounds.”
“SIX WEEKS?” they gasp.
“Six weeks,” Mom and Dad repeat.
“At school?”
“At school.”
PIGEON FACTS
Unbelievable as it is, we are still studying birds. Maybe this unit will last forever.
“It doesn’t normally last this long,” Ms. Raffeli says. “But with all the new state standards I’m supposed to teach, everything takes longer.”
Finally, we begin writing our reports on birds. The school library didn’t have one single book about pigeons so Mom had to take me to the city library. It turns out there are about as many books on pigeons as there are world records. Who knew there was so much to say about pigeons?
Most of the books are boring and confusing and explain what to do if your pigeon ever gets some weird pigeon disease. But I did find one that didn’t put me to sleep and that I could understand.
1. There are over two hundred breeds of pigeons!
2. Tumblers and rollers are pigeons that somersault and flip in the air. Really. They fly up and then flip as they fly.
3. I’m still reading, so no third fact yet.
THE DESTRUCTOR VS. THE SOCCER GAME
Maggie has a big soccer game today. Her team is in the finals. It’s all very serious with coaches screaming out orders and referees in black and white running up and down the field.
Our whole family is here. Of course, we were late so we’re all squished together in the last remaining spot on the bleachers. Lonnie’s with us too because he’s basically family, and what’s one more kid to my parents?
We’re having a really great time. It’s cold outside so it’s not so bad sitting close. And we’re eating food like hot dogs and potato chips, stuff we never get to have. Sharon is singing the school song at the top of her lungs and it sounds surprisingly good.
Even The Destructor is acting normal. He’s sitting on Mom’s lap (not huddling under her legs like usual or running around bothering other families, tipping over their food and drinks).
We all start clapping and pounding our feet and shouting out, “M-A-G-G-I-E! M-A-G-G-I-E! M-A-G-G-I-E! MMMMMMAGGIE!!!!!” And people around us start to do it too. “M-A-G-G-I-E! M-A-G-G-I-E! M-A-G-G-I-E! MMMMMMMMAGGIE!!!!!”
Maggie is center forward. She’s incredible. She runs all over the field, chasing down the ball, passing it, even scoring. And then in the middle of this great feeling, I look around and I know something is wrong, someone is missing, and it’s not Maggie, who’s playing in the game.
Instantly, the sounds shift from exuberant screams to almost silence. All the fun and greatness suddenly whooshes away and on the field I see this little blip chasing Maggie. Maybe a dog? I hope a dog. Of course it’s not a dog.
Then I hear Mom say, “Oh no.”
And at exactly the same time Dad says, “It’s Jake.”
Well, I can tell you people were not happy about a little brother running onto the field in the middle of the game, stealing the ball, and stopping the play. It wasn’t funny to anyone. We were asked to take him home and keep him there until he could follow the rules. And the referees and coaches all had to meet and decide where play should start again and how to handle the situation.
The one time we were all having fun, and The Destructor attacks again. For once I didn’t think he would. But he did.
On top of it all, Maggie’s team lost.
BACK TO NORMAL
“He ran out on the field?” Viva asks.
“In the middle of the game,” Lonnie says.
“Oh brother, then what happened?”
“You mean after the referee yelled at my parents? Maggie ran home and isn’t speaking to anyone. Sharon declared no one is invited to see her musical and isn’t speaking to anyone but is still singing. The twins aren’t speaking to anyone because they’re still mad about picking up trash. Grace isn’t speaking to anyone (no one knows why) but it doesn’t seem so bad to me. And The Destructor is living in his cat box, talking all the time.”
“So, pretty much everything is back to normal,” Lonnie says.
“About as normal as Thomas Blackthorne lifting 27 pounds 8.96 ounces with his tongue,” I say, “which I think we can agree is not normal at all.”
Lonnie and Viva laugh at my joke, but really, I don’t feel funny. I feel like climbing into my tent and hiding out for a very long time.
ALONE IN THE AVIARY
Grumpy Pigeon Man woke me up this morning. But when I scramble over he’s still in his pajamas and isn’t looking so good. His nose is super red, and he’s hacking up stuff from his lungs that looks about as old as he is. I take a step back.
“I’b god uh code,” he says. His nose is clearly all stuffed up. “I’b go-ig bag to bed. Tage care ob dem dis abdernoon. I’ll see you to-barro.” He slowly shuffles away.
I can’t believe it. He’s leaving me to look after the birds. Without him. It only took like a month. I can’t mess this up.
I do everything just the way he likes. The right amount of food. I don’t spill any. I check Dad’s watch, which I still have, so I’ll know when ten minutes is up. I fill up the water dish. I clean their bath bowl and give them fresh bathwater, and take away the food when the time is up. I do it all just right, and Grumpy Pigeon Man is not even there to see me. Of course.
Instead of rushing back to my tent like I usually do to get ready for school, I turn over the bucket and sit down like Grumpy Pigeon Man does.
I know it’s crazy that I’m sitting on a bucket watching a bunch of pigeons, but they’re so interesting you forget you’re sitting on a bucket watching a bunch of pigeons.
Sitting like this is different from walking in and feeding them. It’s like looking into the dark and at first you don’t see anything, then slowly your eyes get used to it and you see more and more.
They peck, scratch, fluff, and coo like usual, but then I notice that some are quiet and still. Others flap. They even look at me. Honest to gosh look at me. Like I’m somebody. I could sit here all day except I’ve got to go to school.
Just as I stand up to leave a pigeon flaps down and lands on my shoulder. I can’t believe it. Right on my shoulder. It coos in my ear. A sound so soft it’s like a pillow.
And then it poos. I can’t believe it. Right on my shoulder. I thought we were friends.
VIVA TAKES CHARGE
Lonnie and Viva are in my backyard. Viva really knows how to take charge.
During lunch, I told them how Grumpy Pigeon Man was sick and how I got to do everything without him. (I left out the part about the pigeon pooing on me.) Viva jumped on this and said how I’d always said he’d never let us come over but that this was our once-in-a-lifetime chance (her words). And before I could disagree she called her mom from the office and asked if she could come over after school and got Lonnie to do the same.
So Mom didn’t ask any questions when we all showed up because Viva’s mom had called her. It was a similar call to Halloween but this time she asked if my mom would be home the whole time and what Viva would get for a snack, and said what time she’d come to pick her up. I have a feeling Viva’s mom will be absolutely on time. I’m pretty sure this is one of those differences Viva talks about.
“This is my tent,” I say. Viva pokes her head in.
“Totally cool.”
“And there are the pigeons.” I point across the fence to their house.
The three of us walk a little closer.
“Let’s go,” she says.
“I don’t know,” I say. “If he catches us he’ll go ballistic.”
“Oh brother.” Viva rolls her eyes. “If he’s as sick as you say, he won’t come out. He’s bound to be tucked in bed fast asleep. That’s what my grandpa does when he has a cold.”
Lonnie shakes his head. “You haven’t met the guy.”
“So he yells a little. What’s the big deal?” She opens the gate that goes out of our yard and into his. Lonnie and I follow, both of us wondering, Who put Viva in charge?
SNEAKING IN
“Boy, it’s stinky,” Viva says. She holds her nose.
“I’ve seen enough.” Lonnie turns to go.
Viva grabs his arm. “Lonnie, it’s just a smell. It can’t hurt you.”
“It’s not the smell I’m afraid of.”
Teddy Mars Book #1 Page 5