That’s when the doorbell rings. “Here we go,” I say. “Welcome to the circus.” That’s what Gran says whenever she sees us.
Mom gives me a hard stare. “I thought I made myself clear.”
Viva and her mom and dad are the first to arrive. It must seem so normal right now, just our family and theirs. I think maybe I should warn them, but Viva rushes over to me and pulls out a video camera before I can say anything. “Look what I got, Teddy!”
“Wow,” I say. And I mean it.
“How about you? What did you get?”
“You really don’t want to know.” The doorbell rings again, a nice excuse to get away. An alarm clock and five packages of paper clips seem pretty ridiculous compared to a video camera. And then I realize that I’m not really saved, because when I open the door the madness truly begins.
A swarm of relatives swooshes in. Coats and scarves are tossed into my arms. Hugs and kisses are planted on me without a question. I look over at Viva and her family. They look like deer in headlights. Frozen and about to be run over.
“I’m going to practice,” Sharon says and heads up to her bathroom. Whatever Dad thought about muffling the sound of her singing does not seem to be working tonight. It’s clear as a bell. Aunt Irma suggests that maybe Sharon has practiced enough and someone should tell her. No one volunteers so Aunt Irma finally goes, and the singing stops for a few minutes until Aunt Irma’s voice is heard singing with Sharon.
Some great-uncle whose name I can’t remember starts talking to the twins. “I can never tell you two apart.” He laughs, then says, “Help me out.”
“I’m Caitlin,” says Casey.
“And I’m Casey,” says Caitlin.
Dad leaps over, interrupting their conversation, and threatens to extend their trash duty if they keep up their antics.
Viva’s parents look a little bit better once the food comes out. They don’t even seem to mind that there isn’t anywhere for them to sit by the time they get through the buffet line, so they have to eat standing up.
But when Maggie demonstrates some soccer kick for a cousin and the ball flies past Viva’s dad’s face, startling him so he bumps into her mom and she spills her food all over him, they go back to looking unhappy.
And then Grace comes over and I think the trouble might really start. She’s got her phone with her and is showing all the pictures she’s taken over the last three months of my tent and me, and then telling everyone my nickname is Tent Boy, which they think is hilarious and they all start saying it.
I’d like to kick her in the shins but I think of Lonnie and his Jedi training and stop myself. I also think if I do that I’ll only pay later.
Viva is very quiet. As quiet as she used to be when she first sat at Lonnie’s and my lunch table. I’m wondering what she’s thinking just as the real Christmas tradition begins.
CHRISTMAS TRADITION PART 3
Strange but true, one of the only mass participation records (the fancy way of saying a bunch of people doing something at the same time) I like is when 5,983 people sat on whoopee cushions. That’s a lot of people making farting noises at one time. Luckily, it was only the sound.
One thing I’ve learned about grown-ups is that after a big meal, they all fart. Obviously twenty-seven adults farting is not as many as 5,983, but in my family it’s not just the sound; it’s the smell.
Granddad is the worst. He can clear a room with his stench. Really.
It’s difficult to imagine that Viva’s family is prepared for the farting marathon. But by the look on Viva’s and her parents’ faces you wouldn’t know it’s happening. They ignore the whole thing. How they can possibly pull that off is unfathomable.
And of course, Jake is in his cat box the whole night. I admit, I finally lose it when he starts telling everyone about Mr. Marney’s pigeons, about rollers and tumblers, about when to feed them and how much, about giving them baths, and everyone thinks he’s so cute, especially when he curls up in his cat box and coos like he’s a pigeon in one of the nesting boxes. The pigeons are my job. Not his.
It makes me want to puke!
Finally, everyone starts leaving, but to ruin things even more, it turns out The Destructor has a present for everyone who came. He’s made a million little birdfeeders.
“He’s been working on these for weeks,” Mom says as she hands one to each family. “He found the pinecones, then covered them with peanut butter and birdseed.”
The way she talks you’d think he’d broken a world record.
JANUARY
LONESOME GEORGE
At lunch Lonnie and Viva talk about their vacations.
“Your family is fantastic,” Viva says. “Getting the camera and Christmas dinner were the best parts of the holiday.”
“You didn’t look like you were having fun.”
“It’s just so different from what we’re used to.”
“Was there the usual stupendous display of farting?” Lonnie asks.
“It was stupendous.” Viva laughs.
“It’s not that funny,” I say.
Lonnie visited his aunt and uncle and cousins down in Florida. They went swimming, got to go to Disney World, and Lonnie was given three flying lessons. Really. This summer, he’s going to learn to fly a plane.
I tell them about Mom inviting Grumpy Pigeon Man to Christmas dinner and how he said he couldn’t make it but how when I headed out to my tent his light was on. I knew he was home alone on Christmas. And then I tell them how he still hasn’t come out to see his pigeons.
“I’m worried,” I say. “He’s turning into Lonesome George.”
“Who’s Lonesome George?” Viva asks. “I don’t know that record.”
“The loneliest creature in The Guinness Book of World Records, the last tortoise of his species.”
“Are you sure he’s lonely?” Lonnie says. “Or is he just acting like Grumpy Pigeon Man?”
“That’s just it, he’s not acting like Grumpy Pigeon Man. Even when he was grumpy, he took care of his pigeons. Something is wrong, and I’ve got to figure it out.”
MOST DANGEROUS ANT
A week after Christmas, the house is cleaned of decorations and we’re back to school. Mom is in the kitchen reading the newspaper when I walk in. She doesn’t stop reading. She just reaches behind her and grabs a plate with cookies on it and a glass of milk.
“Mom?”
“Hmmm?”
“Do you think Grumpy Pigeon Man—”
“Mr. Marney, Teddy.”
Grace walks in. She stomps on my foot.
“Ouch!”
“Oh sorry, Tent Boy,” she says and takes a cookie from the plate and downs my milk.
I decide to ignore her. I have more important things on my mind than a dumb sister. “Mom, Mr. Marney hasn’t come to see his pigeons. He got out of the hospital weeks ago.”
“Are you worried he’s still sick?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t even know why I want the guy back.”
“It’s obvious,” Grace says. “You want him back because you’re a sucker for punishment, and he doesn’t want to go to his birds because when he got sick it scared him so much that he doesn’t want to be close to them.”
Grace offering good advice about people is about as likely as surviving the world’s most dangerous ant bite. This ant is not like the small ones that eat our garbage. This ant has a poison that can kill a grown-up in fifteen minutes. Need I say more?
Mom nods. “I think Grace is right.”
“Right about what?”
“It’s strange grown-up stuff called psychology,” Grace says like she’s a million years older than me. “I read about it in one of Mom’s magazines. They push away the things that are most important to them, so they never have to lose them.”
“You mean he loves them so much he’s afraid of them?” I ask.
“Exactly.”
“So what do I do?” I ask her.
“What am I, a fortune-
teller?” She stalks out of the room.
I look at my mom for help. She’s back to her newspaper.
Clearly, I’m on my own here.
Now I’m wondering, is it smart to take advice from the world’s most dangerous ant?
GETTING HIM
The thought of bringing Grumpy Pigeon Man and his pigeons together sticks to me like the world’s stickiest salamander. Its skin is so sticky that when an animal bites it, the animal’s mouth gets glued shut.
Viva, Lonnie, and I are in the loft with the pigeons and a pile of books about pigeons.
“I thought we were done with our bird unit,” Viva says.
“Less talking, more reading,” I say.
“Did you know pigeons and doves are related?” Viva asks.
“Pigeons bob their heads to see better,” Lonnie says. “It helps with their depth perception.”
“Cool,” Viva says.
“It’s cool but it’s not helping,” I say.
“What are you hoping to find?” Lonnie asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I just feel like if Suresh Joachim Arulanantham can stand on one foot for 76 hours and 40 minutes, I can find something that will get Grumpy Pigeon Man to visit his birds.”
MAYBE
It’s while I’m running back to my tent that I get my idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. Maybe forgetting to use the bathroom before going to bed helped me.
Maybe running in the freezing cold helped me.
Maybe I understand why Maggie loves to run so much.
Maybe it would help me think of a new world record to break.
Maybe I should get into my sleeping bag before I die of frostbite.
GOT HIM
The next morning I go straight to Grumpy Pigeon Man’s back door. I knock.
When he opens the door I say, “Mr. Marney, all I’m going to say is: Cher Ami.”
“Cher Ami to you, too,” he says.
“I mean the pigeon.”
“The pigeon?”
“The pigeon.”
“Try to make a little sense, Tent Boy.”
“Cher Ami,” I say again.
“And your point is?”
“Your pigeons need you just like that division needed Cher Ami.”
Grumpy Pigeon Man is quiet, then says, “It’s a point. I just don’t know if it’s a good one.”
STAY STILL
The pigeons look over and coo hello when I come feed them later that day. After all this time, they definitely know me.
I turn over a bucket and sit down. Paploo sits quietly next to me. I put some feed in my hand and he eats out of it. My plan did not work. Grumpy Pigeon Man doesn’t come out. I really thought Cher Ami would get him. I wonder if he’ll sell his pigeons. Why have them, if he doesn’t like them?
That’s when I see his door open. He walks to the aviary and comes inside. I can’t believe it. My idea worked. I feel this huge smile growing on my face.
In my old copy of The Guinness Book of World Records there is a list of the longest bridges in the world. There’s a record for each kind of bridge: cable suspension bridge, cantilever bridge, concrete girder bridge, floating bridge, steel arch bridge, wooden bridge, road and rail bridge system, and plain, old bridge.
My grin is definitely as long as the longest plain, old, regular bridge, the Second Lake Pontchartrain Bridge (23.87 miles). I can’t help it. I got him to come out.
He pulls over a bucket. “What are you doing?”
“Feeding Paploo,” I say. I’m so excited he’s out here I forget that I never told him about naming the pigeons.
“Paploo? What’s a Paploo?”
“It’s an Ewok, sir.”
“Tent Boy, that is not an Ewok.”
“No, I mean it’s named after an Ewok.”
“You named my pigeons?”
“Not all of them. You have too many. And I didn’t name them by myself, Lonnie and Viva helped.”
Princess Leia flies down and sits on his knee. He pets her.
“That’s so cool. I want a bird to do that to me. One time one of your birds flew onto my shoulder, but never my leg.”
“You need to stay quiet,” he says. “Do you think you can do that?”
It’s hard. My body jerks and wants to move around.
“Stay still,” he repeats. “You can do it.” And just like that, Obi-Wan Kenobi flies over. He almost lands on my knee, but then I squirm and he flaps away.
“Then again, maybe you can’t.”
“Obi-Wan Kenobi, come back,” I say.
Grumpy Pigeon Man points to the bird on his leg. “Who’s this?”
“Princess Leia.”
“You named every pigeon after Star Wars?”
I’m impressed he even knows what Star Wars is. “Not all fifty-seven,” I say, and then tell him the names we did come up with.
Grumpy Pigeon Man shakes his head. “I never thought they’d be named after Star Wars.”
We sit there together staring at Obi-Wan Kenobi. And we never mention Cher Ami.
112 DAYS IN THE TENT
“You’re such a nut-o, Tent Boy,” Grace says. CLICK! STOMP!
Need I say more?
OF COURSE
Grumpy Pigeon Man is back to normal and tells me everything I do wrong, which seems right. The only difference now is he only comes out in the afternoon. “You can handle the mornings yourself,” he says. “And you finally got an alarm clock.”
He watches me bustle around feeding the birds, but after I’m done we always sit. I’m getting better at staying still.
And then it happens. Jar Jar Binks lands on my knee.
I’m so amazed that for a second I can’t speak and when I finally do the words come out all quiet. “I did it.”
“Of course you did, Tent Boy.”
He says this like I’m the only one who believed I couldn’t.
POSSIBLE REASONS
Lonnie, Viva, and I sit with the pigeons. We each have one on our knee. We’re making a list of the possible reasons Jerome might be acting so strange. Last night, he gave Lonnie his baseball card collection.
“If that’s not weird I don’t know what is,” Lonnie says.
“What about a girlfriend?” Viva suggests.
“Girlfriend?” we say together. “Who would date him?”
Alien brain invasion is at the top of our list.
THE KIND OF MOM SHE IS
Sharon sings continually and asks Mom how she sounds almost every second. She also makes Mom rehearse all her dumb lines for the play while Mom cooks dinner. Mom does it because that’s the kind of mom she is.
Caitlin and Casey are building an extension for their bikes so they can haul trash. Mom helps them because that’s the kind of mom she is.
Soccer training has started again for Maggie. She wasn’t sure she was going to make the team again after The Destructor’s stunt, but Mom went and talked to the coach. Mom can be very convincing. She said it wasn’t right to exclude Maggie, and finally the coach agreed. That’s the kind of mom she is.
Grace is always private about what she does. She whispers a lot to Mom and Mom whispers back so no one can hear them, because that’s the kind of mom she is.
And for a little while, life seemed normal. But then The Destructor had to ruin it.
Yesterday, Aunt Ellen sent me a present after she visited the Guinness World Records Museum in Niagara Falls, Canada. It was an official Guinness World Records shirt and this particular one was autographed by Ashrita Furman, who pogo-sticked 23.11 miles.
Unbelievably, today The Destructor snuck into my tent and took the shirt. He also snuck into Mom’s makeup bag. I was walking into the house after school when he hopped downstairs. His face, neck, arms, hands, and my entire shirt were covered in nail polish, eye makeup, and lipstick. Mom didn’t get mad at all. She laughed and said she couldn’t believe how cute he looked and took pictures. Unfortunately, that’s also the kind of mom she is.
And once again The Destructor is prohibited from entering my tent because that’s the kind of brother he is.
RECORD ATTEMPT 9
Last night a huge snowstorm came through. We had more than three feet of snow, which was when I got the inspiration to break a new record.
Tallest snow mound.
FAILED ATTEMPT 9
I’m telling you it was tall. I worked for the whole weekend. It reached up to the second story windows. At least it did until I went to school on Monday, because when I came home The Destructor had burrowed a hole through the middle and caused an avalanche.
Now it looks like a plate of mashed potatoes.
I am never talking to that kid again.
FEBRUARY
BIRTHDAYS
No one believes me when I tell them, but it’s true. Every single person in my family, except me, has a birthday in February.
February 1: Dad
February 5: Sharon
February 7: Maggie
February 10: Caitlin and Casey
February 14: Mom
February 15: Grace
February 20: THE DESTRUCTOR
In 1900 Johann Hurlinger walked the longest distance on his hands (870 miles). Like the feats of the tippler pigeon, that takes endurance. If you live in my family, so does the month of February.
BIRTHDAY #1: DAD
Dad likes bowling on his birthday. Every year we go bowling. Usually, I have a good time bowling, even with The Destructor. Last year I helped him get a strike. I stood with him, guided his hand, and told him when to let go. When the last pin fell, he hugged me tight and said that it was all because of me. This year, Maggie and I bowl as a team and in a different lane from The Destructor.
He bowls with Grace and spends most of his time throwing his balls into other lanes, ruining the games of the people around us. Grace thinks this is hilarious, but the bowling alley owners finally move us to the lanes on the very end where no one is next to us.
Dad is happy because they give us free pizza and coupons for free bowling, and we get to start all over again.
Teddy Mars Book #1 Page 8