The Destructor keeps asking me to bowl with him. “I haven’t gotten a strike,” he says.
“Oh well,” I say. “I don’t have a record for the tallest snow mound or a clean T-shirt, and do you see me complaining?”
I’m just about to bowl a strike. The ball is perfectly poised for success when it is knocked into the gutter by another ball. I don’t have to look over to know what happened.
It’s got The Destructor written all over it.
BIRTHDAY #2: SHARON
“All I want for my birthday is to see a musical,” Sharon says.
“We can do that,” Dad says.
Sharon’s eyes light up. “Really? You’ll take me to the theater?”
“No, no,” Dad says. “I mean we’ll watch one at home.”
Sharon scowls. “That is not what I meant.”
“Do you know how much it costs to see a musical?”
“Never mind,” she says. “I’ll go out with friends.”
From my tent, I hear the sounds of the TV. Mom and Dad are watching the musical with The Destructor. They seem to be having fun. I can even hear them singing along.
If I were Sharon I’d go out with friends too.
BIRTHDAY #3: MAGGIE
Maggie chose rock climbing. Unlike seeing a musical, this is something the whole family can do together. She and Grace have already been up and down about twenty times. Sharon had rehearsal and the twins passed on this because they need to map out their trash collecting route.
Mom was not thrilled. She likes us to be together for every birthday, but because Maggie doesn’t care, Mom couldn’t make a fuss.
I think they’re crazy. This is the best birthday ever.
I’m almost to the top when The Destructor swings into me and grabs the hold I was reaching for. He steps on my foot, pushes off, and gets to the top first.
Everyone claps for him.
When we come back down the guy who works there says, “I’ve never seen a kid go up so fast.” He hands The Destructor a lollipop.
This seems about as amazing as the largest gathering of Elvis impersonators (645). I mean, fine. Elvis was an amazing musician, or at least my gran tells me he was, but really, so what?
It’s the same with The Destructor. He’s fast, but giving him credit for it misses the whole point that he cheated to get what he wanted.
Nothing personal, but I would not want to get into The Guinness Book of World Records as an Elvis impersonator and I would not like to be the fastest kid to climb a rock wall if it meant I cheated.
BIRTHDAY #4: THE TWINS
The twins decide that for their birthday we will all bike. They have wagons attached to the back of their bikes ready to collect trash with the name of their business painted on the side.
Sharon does not come along. “I have a rehearsal,” she says.
I try to get out of it, too, but Mom ignores me. Obviously, she knows Sharon is too old to boss around but I’m ten so I don’t have a choice.
Have you ever tried to bike with eight people? It’s not fun.
The Destructor rides on a Tag Along with Dad. You would think this would keep him safe but he’s figured out how to make it swing side to side so he blocks anyone from passing him. By anyone, I mean me.
It is a long boring day except for dessert. The twins don’t like cake so we make ice cream sundaes, and when The Destructor’s not looking I eat half of his.
BIRTHDAY #5: MOM
Mom decides to go out with just Dad. This means we all have to stay home together.
“Be good,” Mom says at the door. “And be sure to help each other out. We won’t be home late.” They leave looking a little too happy.
Maggie ties her shoelaces. “I’m going for a run before dark.”
Grace is chasing the twins around because they’ve hidden the remote control.
Sharon rolls her eyes. “I’m going to my room,” she says and leaves.
“More spaghetti,” The Destructor says, handing me his plate from inside the cat box.
“They had better bring me back some cake,” I say as I scoop spaghetti.
BIRTHDAY #6: GRACE
They didn’t bring me cake and Grace’s birthday is the next day. Grace’s idea of a good party is to watch a scary movie and then sneak out in the middle of the night, shine a light in my face, and scream at the top of her lungs.
“I don’t know why you’re so mad,” she says to Mom. “Teddy is fine. It was my birthday and it didn’t cost anything.”
BIRTHDAY #7: THE DESTRUCTOR
“I’ll be in the pigeon coop today,” I say.
“You won’t,” Mom says. “You know what day it is. You will be with us at the indoor water park.”
“All of us?” I ask. “That’s expensive for a birthday.”
Mom shakes her head. “No, just you, Jake, Dad, and me.”
“Mom, that’s not fair. I don’t want to spend the day with The Destructor.”
“Fair or not, it’s what Jake wants.”
And that’s why instead of a quiet day with the pigeons I am bombarded by a just-turned-five-year-old at the water park while my parents sit on the side and watch.
“Oh, Teddy, Jake’s so happy,” Mom calls, smiling her head off, just as he explodes out of the slide and crashes into me.
143 DAYS IN TENT
It’s been a long month of birthdays but this doesn’t stop Grace.
“I don’t care how many times I do this, Tent Boy, it’s still hilarious.”
CLICK!
AFTER THE HAZE
I wish I could think of a record to break, but after all those birthdays my brain is as fried as the largest fried chicken meal (2,372 pounds 2.72 ounces).
MARCH
SOMETHING IS WRONG
Even from the back door, I can tell right away something’s wrong. The tent tilts to one side, and the zipper is half-open. It wasn’t like that when I left this morning for school.
I run out to check on it. My sleeping bag is smooshed in one corner, my clothes are scattered, and my action figures are thrown everywhere, instead of in their straight lines. And there’s a bag of microwave popcorn on the floor that’s moving.
I wonder where it came from since I didn’t eat any popcorn, but I really wonder why it’s moving. Popcorn bags don’t move on their own. I back away.
That’s when I see it: the stripe of white. The universal warning sign. I let out a yelp and stumble backward, trying to get away. I drag myself as far away as I can. But I’m not fast enough. The skunk whose head is stuck in the bag of popcorn senses danger.
“Please don’t,” I whisper and run back to the house screaming.
I must have been screaming pretty loud because Mom and The Destructor rush toward me and then stop suddenly and gag.
“Oh my,” Mom says.
The Destructor holds his nose. “Blech!” he says.
Mom says, “Don’t come in.”
“I almost got skunked and you’re not letting me in?”
“Oh, honey,” she says. “You were skunked.”
I stand on the steps and watch as the skunk pulls free of the popcorn bag and trundles off into the woods behind our house.
CLEANUP
“Teddy! Your bath is ready,” Mom calls me. I’m staying home from school today. This was agreed between Principal Johnson, Ms. Raffeli, and my parents. Clearly, we all think it’s an excellent idea.
Dad gulps down his coffee and gives me a thumbs-up on his way out the door. “I’d hug you, kiddo, but I’m going to work.”
I don’t take it personally; I wouldn’t hug a skunk if I had to go to work either.
DAY OFF
There are three things I’ve learned through this ordeal.
1. When skunks have babies they come out during the day and stay in their dens at night (to protect the babies).
2. Soaking in tomato baths is supposed to get rid of skunk smell.
3. I’m pretty sure it does nothing, except now I smell like sk
unk and tomatoes.
This was not the kind of day off I imagined.
DAY OFF: DAY 2
As I sink down into another tomato juice bath I picture The Destructor’s punishment. Maybe he should live in the basement for two weeks, or eat only slugs, or walk the Great Wall of China, the longest wall in the world (2,150 miles). BAREFOOT.
Strange but true, my parents are not asking for my opinion about possible punishments for The Destructor. My parents won’t hear of it. They say he’s too young and won’t understand.
“He’s five,” I yell to Mom as I get dressed. My fingers are pruney and I’m all red. “He’s old enough to know he’s not allowed in my tent! And he snuck in when no one was looking.” I stop talking and do that tall eyebrow thing that Ms. Raffeli does so Mom understands that I’m serious. “He played with all my things, brought food into the tent, and left it unzipped.”
“I hate to say this, Teddy,” Mom says. “But if you let him in once in a while, then he wouldn’t have to sneak in.”
“AAAAAGH!” I scream and stalk off to the pigeons. The only place I can go.
DAY OFF: DAY 3
I’m still sleeping in the tent. No way am I sleeping in the house. Every morning I take the tent down. Mom washes it and dries it, then I set it up again. No matter how much she washes it, it still stinks. Just like me, and my sleeping bag, which I am not using; the smell is too much even for me. Luckily the weather is warm enough so I don’t need it.
I’m still taking care of the birds because, as Grumpy Pigeon Man says, “They’re not bothered by skunk smell.” Although obviously he is because he takes a step backward every time I come over to feed them.
“You’re a lot faster setting up that tent,” Grumpy Pigeon Man says.
“Under two minutes,” I say.
“Still can’t get rid of the smell?”
“Nope,” I say. “And if I have one more tomato bath, I’ll probably turn into one.”
DAY OFF: DAY 4
Mom decides to give me a bath break. My skin is looking so strangely red that she’s worried.
The doorbell rings, and Mom answers it.
“Teddy, it’s Mr. Marney,” she calls.
He follows her into the kitchen and then hands her a bottle. “Tomato juice won’t work. This is my own mixture. Give Tent Boy a good soak in it. It’ll get the smell off.”
Notice how Grumpy Pigeon Man is allowed to call me Tent Boy and Mom doesn’t correct him.
“Can I use it on the tent and sleeping bag?”
Grumpy Pigeon Man nods and sits down.
He picks up my copy of The Guinness Book of World Records. “Haven’t seen one of these for years. Used to love it.”
“You know it?” I ask.
“I may be old but I’m not a dinosaur.” He flips through it. “Still nothing about pigeons. You’d think at least Cher Ami would be in there.” He sighs and stands up.
“Thanks, Mr. Marney.” Mom shows him to the door, then says, “Time for another bath. Hopefully this will do the trick.”
Strange but true, I should be excited about a tomato-free bath, but all I can think about is what Grumpy Pigeon Man just said.
I know there isn’t a single pigeon record, but for some reason thinking about it this time makes my brain hum. I can’t stop thinking about pigeons. Someone has to break a record for pigeons. Someone has to.
And it will be me.
BACK TO SCHOOL
“You’re back,” Viva says as I walk into class. “And you don’t smell.”
Meanwhile, every kid is holding their nose and pretending I stink, but I know Grumpy Pigeon Man’s concoction worked.
“Is Lonnie here yet?” I ask.
“No, what’s up?” There’s still a lot of gagging going on, until Lonnie walks in and it stops. People respect Lonnie; they always have.
“Lonnie, I have to talk to you,” I say.
Ms. Raffeli walks in then. She looks at me, smells the air, and smiles. “Welcome back, Teddy.”
“Thanks.”
“We have to talk,” I whisper to Lonnie and Viva.
“Is everything okay?” Lonnie asks.
“I’ve got an idea.”
“Teddy, Lonnie, Viva,” Ms. Raffeli snaps. “We’re waiting on you.”
“I’ll tell you at lunch.”
THE BIG IDEA
I look around to be sure that in all the racket of the cafeteria no one is listening. “This is top secret.”
“Okay,” Viva says.
“No one except us can know,” I say.
“We get it,” Lonnie says.
I lean closer. “Most pigeons to land on a human.”
“I assume you’re talking about breaking a world record?” Lonnie asks.
“Yes.”
“And you are the human?”
“Yes.”
“And the pigeons are the fifty-seven ones owned by Grumpy Pigeon Man?”
“Yes.”
“Most pigeons to land on a human,” Viva repeats. “I like it.”
“Me too,” Lonnie says. “It’s original. But how do you get them to land on you?”
“I’ve got it all figured out.” Now that I’ve said it out loud I’m really excited. “Birdseed.”
“Birdseed?” Lonnie asks.
“Remember those peanut butter birdseed pinecones The Destructor made at Christmas?” I ask Viva.
Lonnie says, “So you’ll be the pinecone and spread peanut butter all over yourself and then put birdseed on top?”
“Exactly. The birds will land on me, eat the seed, and I’ll have a world record.”
“Have you told your parents?” Viva asks.
“No way.”
“But your parents let you do everything,” Viva says.
Lonnie shakes his head. “This feels like the one thing you don’t want to tell your parents.”
“No one can know about this, not my parents, not my sisters, not Grumpy Pigeon Man, and definitely not The Destructor.”
“Are you worried about Grumpy Pigeon Man?”
“Well, it won’t hurt the birds at all. I figure, it’ll take less than ten minutes, which is all the time they’re allowed to eat anyway. After it’s all done, we’ll tell everyone. This time, I’ve done it properly. I filled out an application and have a number and everything. The record will be having fifty-seven pigeons on a human.”
“What about proof?” Lonnie asks.
“I’ll bring my camera and film the whole thing,” Viva says.
“You’ll be the only kid we know in The Guinness Book of World Records.” Lonnie throws away his lunch. “So cool.” He pauses. “What about the peanut butter? You’ll need a lot.”
“We’ve got loads of peanut butter in my basement. Mom buys it in bulk. And I’ll use Grumpy Pigeon Man’s birdseed.”
“We need to pick a day,” Viva says as the recess bell rings.
“What about next week?” Lonnie asks.
“That won’t work,” I say. “It’s spring vacation. My whole family will be around.”
I can see Lonnie thinking about this. “Then how about this Saturday?”
“Saturdays are good,” I say. And they are. My family is always in a million different places on Saturdays.
Viva nods. “That gives you five days to prepare.”
“Okay. How about nine a.m.?” I say. “Grumpy Pigeon Man never comes out in the morning.”
“This is going to be the best world record ever,” Lonnie says. “Much better than the 4,010 pounds of stir-fry.”
“So true,” I say as we plow through the doors to the playground.
ALL FIXED
When I get home The Destructor is at the front door waiting. “Tent Boy! Tent Boy!” He drags me to the back door and points outside. There is my tent all set up and perfect.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say.
“It was actually Jake’s idea.”
It’s like this plan to set a world record has turned me inside out, and even though Th
e Destructor is on my most wanted list I say, “Hey, Destructor, let’s go check it out.” His face lights up and he runs out the door. I grab the Oreos.
“Teddy!” Mom yells before we disappear. “Thanks. And don’t forget Sharon’s play is Saturday.”
“Saturday? What time?”
“Noon,” she says.
I frown.
“Do you have something to do?” she asks.
“Do we have to go?” I ask.
Mom smiles. “Yes.”
I think about this. I’ll be done by nine thirty at the latest. “Fine,” I say.
“Close your eyes,” The Destructor says, and pulls me into the tent.
“TA-DA!” he yells.
There’s a bookshelf now and a beanbag chair. And all my books and Star Wars figures are in order from smallest to tallest.
“Mom washed everything in Mr. Marney’s soap.”
“Here’s The Guinness Book. Smell it. It doesn’t smell!” He grabs a cookie. “Someday you’ll be in there,” he says.
Before thinking I say, “Sooner than you think.” It’s part of my happy mood, but right away I regret it.
“Are you breaking a record? What record?” He jumps up all excited. Cookies spill everywhere.
“I’ve got to get the dustpan,” I say and leap up. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that there’s no such thing as being too careful with skunks, or The Destructor. I am not taking any chances with either.
DAY 158
CLICK!
Grace steps on my foot on her way past. “Just to keep in practice,” she says and walks away.
I’ve got bigger things to think about than Grace or my foot so this time I don’t feel a thing.
PREPARATIONS
“Three days until I break a world record and three days until Sharon breaks our ears,” I say. We’re out with the pigeons.
“I can’t believe my parents are making me go,” Lonnie says.
Teddy Mars Book #1 Page 9