by Bob Balaban
“Charlie got chosen to be the team mascot at the big swimming meet tomorrow,” Dave says proudly. “That sounds pretty special to me.”
“How’d you find out, Dave?” I ask under my breath. “I wasn’t exactly planning on telling anyone.”
“It’s all over the school website, little bro. Sorry.”
“That’s amazing!” my mom exclaims. “Can you believe it, Fred! Team mascot? What an honor! Your father and I can’t wait to come to Carbon-town or wherever you said the meet was and cheer you on, Charlie.”
“We sure can’t!” Dad exclaims. “This is wonderful. When do we leave?”
“Count me and Harriet in, folks.” Uncle Marvin toots his noisemaker in my earflap. “We’re so happy for you, Charlie!”
“It’s really not such a big deal, guys,” I protest. “Let’s not get carried away here.”
“Are you kidding?” My dad beams. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”
Maybe you wouldn’t, Pop, but I sure would.
“I’m ready for my cake now,” my aunt says mournfully. “Is anybody listening?”
My mom is way too excited to pay attention to her sister. “We’ll have to ask Mrs. Pagliuso to join us; I know she’ll want to be there. And Fred, honey, make sure to check with your office to see who needs a ride to the swim meet. We’ll probably have to rent one of those airport-type van thingies. I hope there’s time.” She gets up and clears the table. “Don’t worry, Charlie, I’ll start making decorative banners as soon as I’m done with the dishes.”
I really wish my mom didn’t make such a big deal out of everything. When Dave stopped wearing his retainer, she invited his entire freshman class over for a pizza party to celebrate. She bought Balthazar freeze-dried salmon treats and a shiny yellow raincoat when he graduated his obedience training course last year. He got special honors. Just like every other dog in his class who didn’t bite the instructor.
“Cake, cake!” Aunt Harriet cries and reaches for the untouched dessert.
“My goodness, I was so excited about Charlie being team mascot, I nearly forgot the most important part of the meal.” My mom snatches the cake out of Aunt Harriet’s hands and starts slicing it into perfectly symmetrical wedges.
“For my wonderful sister on her fifty-third birthday.” She puts the first piece on a plate and proudly presents it to my aunt. Aunt Harriet gobbles up every molecule of that piece of cake faster than you can say “if the birthday girl isn’t careful, pretty soon she is not going to be able to get through the front door.”
“You get the coffee, Fred, and I’ll finish cutting the cake.” My mom likes to run things almost as much as she likes to cook. “Dave and Charlie, you see who wants ice cream. Isn’t this a wonderful evening!”
“I’d love another piece of that cake, Doris,” Aunt Harriet says. “With a scoop of strawberry ice cream on the side.”
“Can you wait until I’ve served the others, Sis?”
“No,” Aunt Harriet says calmly. “I can’t.”
Just then, the doorbell rings.
“Fred, honey, can you see who that is?” Mom calls.
It’s Principal Muchnick. I can smell him all the way from the front porch. Today he reminds me of Balthazar’s breath mixed with chocolate chip cookies. It makes me feel a little hungry and a lot like I want to throw up.
Somehow I don’t think he is here to congratulate me.
My mom doesn’t even look up when my dad brings our principal and his flunky Doc Craverly into the room. “I’m afraid we’re busy celebrating my sister’s birthday tonight, gentlemen.” She calmly finishes cutting the cake. “We don’t have much time. I hope you understand. What’s going on?” My mom doesn’t like Principal Muchnick very much. And she doesn’t hide it very well, either.
Principal Muchnick clears his throat several times before he begins. “I’m here to discuss your son, Mr. and Mrs. Drinkwater.”
We all look at him expectantly.
“I won’t be long. I’m anxious to get to the bottom of this whole messy situation, as I’m sure are you.”
“As far as we’re concerned, there is no situation, Principal Muchnick,” my mom says quietly and simply. “Messy or otherwise. Our son tells us he is innocent. We believe him. What else is there to discuss?” She passes the cake around the table.
“Uh . . . uh . . . uh . . . I see,” Doc Craverly stammers. “Charlie is certainly a lovely . . . uh . . . boy . . . that’s for sure . . . and you have every ra-ra-ra-reason to uh . . . believe . . . uh . . . whatever it is you want to believe . . . uh . . .” Doc Craverly does not do well with confrontations. Or any other form of human interaction, for that matter.
“Butt out, Craverly,” Principal Muchnick says ominously. Doc Craverly appears to shrivel like a dried prune. He hunches over, bites his lip, and stares at his shoes. My friends and I call this his “default” position.
“Doris, this dessert is outstanding!” Uncle Marvin beams. “Anyone who can bake this well deserves to have her own store. Don’t you agree, Principal Muchnick?”
“I really never thought about it before, but . . . uh . . . yeah . . . sure.” After an awkward pause, Principal Muchnick continues. “As you undoubtedly realize, Mrs. Drinkwater, there are two sides to every story. I hope you will do me the courtesy of listening to this discussion in the friendly and open-minded spirit with which it is intended. I assure you I will do the same.”
Friendly and open-minded are not exactly words I would use to describe Principal Muchnick. Stubborn, arrogant, and smelly would be a lot more like it.
“I hope so,” my mom says tersely.
“Yes . . . well . . . anyway . . .” Principal Muchnick says. “As you may or may not know, the police are no longer interested in pursuing the three robberies, as all plaintiffs have agreed to drop criminal charges. So it remains for Dr. Craverly and myself, on behalf of the school, to come to our own conclusion as to the guilt or innocence of your child.”
Doc Craverly looks up cheerfully and seems to wink at me several times. I can’t tell if he’s trying to be friendly. Or has something in his eye. Or has simply developed an eye twitch. I try my best to ignore him.
“Just one more tiny little piece, Doris,” Aunt Harriet whispers insistently. “And don’t forget the strawberry ice cream, please.”
“Not now, Harriet,” my mom whispers back. “And what have you concluded?” she asks the principal, her voice rising.
Principal Muchnick pulls out a small, dog-eared yellow pad containing several pages of notes from his vest pocket. He begins to read aloud. He can’t even look us in the eye. “Several factors have contributed to our belief that Charlie is indeed guilty of all three crimes.”
“I thought this man was the school principal,” Uncle Marvin comments. “Is he an experienced forensics professional?” Principal Muchnick gives Uncle Marvin a dirty look.
It’s not exactly late-breaking news that Prinicipal Muchnick thinks I’m guilty. If someone steals a paperclip, he calls me into his office the next morning and reads me the riot act.
“First and foremost,” Principal Muchnick continues, “several additional eyewitnesses have come forward and placed your son at the scene of the Hollabird robbery, in addition to Mrs. Dieterly. Not only that, but we have studied the forensics of the case in great detail and can now prove beyond a reasonable . . .” He pauses while he turns the page and tries to find his place.
“I’m listening, Principal Muchnick,” my mom says softly. “But I don’t know for how much longer.”
“My sentiments exactly,” my dad mutters.
“Harumph,” Aunt Harriet agrees, wiping the excess frosting from her extremely chocolaty lips.
Principal Muchnick finds his place and continues, unruffled, “. . . beyond a reasonable doubt that the robber was well over seven feet tall, and possessed unusual and highly a
dvanced climbing skills. In addition, a number of clawlike marks were found at the scene of every crime, as well as . . .”
Uncle Marvin gets up and shakes his fist. I’ve never seen him so upset. “This is all circumstantial evidence at best, and we don’t appreciate it one bit!”
“We understand you have a difficult job on your hands, Principal Muchnick,” my dad says. “Somebody in this town has definitely done a lot of bad things, and if it’s one of your students you’re going to have to do something about it. But you’ve made a terrible mistake. It isn’t our son you’re looking for.”
“Charlie Drinkwater never broke a rule in his life,” my mom says.
Not exactly true, Mom, but thanks for standing up for me anyway.
“He is one of the most honorable people you’ll ever meet,” she goes on. “And if you thought twice about it, you’d realize what damage you’re doing to this poor child with your unfounded accusations.”
I wonder if she’d be saying this if she knew I snuck out last night and went swimming in Crater Lake without even a lifeguard present.
“He’s innocent, Principal Muchnick,” Dave says quietly.
“I appreciate your sentiments, everybody. But you’re the boy’s family. What else are you going to say?” Principal Muchnick motions to me. “Come over here, Charlie.”
My mom squeezes my claw, and I get up from my place at the table and walk slowly over to the principal. I lean way down and he looks me right in the eye. He is so close to my snout I am becoming light-headed from the toxic smell of his cologne.
“I want you to listen to me very closely, Charlie. Doc Craverly and I are your advocates. We’re on your side. We’re here to help you.” Principal Muchnick wants to help me about as much as I want to play defensive linebacker for the Stevenson Middle School football team. “But I only have so much patience.”
He’s not kidding. You could put all of Principal Muchnick’s patience into a thimble and still have enough room left over for a couple of raisins and Craig Dieterly’s heart.
“I’m offering you an opportunity, young man,” Principal Muchnick continues. “The opportunity stands for the next twenty-four hours: confess to these thefts, and we can all move on and forget about your childish pranks. But if you remain silent, I will throw the book at you. Mandatory weekend study halls. Daily cleaning of the teachers’ lounge. Weekly therapy sessions with Doc Craverly.” Doc Craverly looks up gratefully. “I’ll put you on the basketball team. It won’t be pretty. And it will all be on your permanent transcript. Understand?”
Balthazar looks up at Principal Muchnick from his treasured spot near Aunt Harriet’s massive feet and growls protectively.
“I’m afraid I do,” I say quietly. I’m supposed to lie and confess to something I didn’t do so I won’t get punished. What kind of a lesson is that for a principal to teach a kid?
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave now, Principal Muchnick,” my mom says firmly. The corners of her mouth turn down and there is a big unhappy wrinkle etched in her forehead.
“You too, Doctor Craverly,” my dad adds. “It’s getting late. Charlie has a big day tomorrow. It’s the big swim meet, as I’m sure you know.”
We see our two visitors to the door in utter silence. The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with the cake knife Aunt Harriet is currently licking clean of the chocolate.
My family tromps back to the dining room. I press one heavily hooded almond-shaped eye against the peephole and watch Principal Muchnick and Doc Craverly getting smaller and smaller as they head down the path.
If I ever become the principal of anything when I grow up, please remind me never to act like Principal Muchnick.
“Aren’t you going to watch Aunt Harriet unwrap her presents?” Dave calls. I notice a familiar-looking shadowy presence glide toward the front door, blending in effortlessly with the hedges by the side of the house.
“I’ll be there in a minute!” I call back.
A thin, wraith-like figure wrapped in a black velvet cape steps gracefully onto the porch and stands alone, shivering in the wind. I open the door a crack. “What are you doing here, Mr. Arkady?”
“Usink only my powers of deduction, a leetle intuition, and a lot of scientific analysis, I seem to haff solved not vun but two great meesteries,” he says quietly.
He leans in and speaks softly to me. I can smell his curiously scented lavender breath. “If my theory ees correct, I haff not only discovered who ees the Decatur robber, Charlie, but the identity of your mysterious friend vitt ull the difficulties, as vell. And, vunder uff vunders, they appear to be vun and the same.”
Mr. Arkady’s theories are, unfortunately, right on the money, as usual. He is so excited two red spots glow brightly on his normally sallow cheeks.
“Mr. Arkady, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I don’t really want to hear any more about your discovery. Because I don’t want to have to lie to you, and no matter who you tell me it is, I will always deny it. I made my friend a promise. And I’m planning to keep it. I hope you understand, sir.”
“You certainly are an honorable yunk lizard.” Mr. Arkady stamps his velvet-slipper-covered feet on the porch to ward off the cold. “And as a fellow secret-keeper, I vill of course respect your vishes.”
“I’m very grateful, Mr. Arkady.” I wonder what exactly Mr. Arkady knows. And how he knows it.
“But I must vorn you about vun tink, Charlie. I am ninety-nine percent certain that the person whose secret you are keepink vuss my stoodent nine years ago. He vuss a perfectly nice boy, but he had only a passink acvaintance vitt the truth.”
I don’t get it. Even if Stanley was Mr. Arkady’s student, how does he know Stanley became a mutant dinosaur? I thought Stanley left town as soon as he transformed. There are missing pieces to this puzzle, and I really wish I knew what they were.
“The years have passed.” Mr. Arkady’s breath comes out in puffy white bursts. “Perhaps he ees older and viser now. Who knows? But eef I were you, I vould take effrytink he said vitt a grain of salt. Perhaps several grains. Udder than that, my leeps are sealed. Good luck beink team mascot. I vill be cheerink you on tomorrow.” He swirls his cape, glides smoothly down the stairs, and disappears into the evening mist.
Why does Mr. Arkady want me to believe that Stanley isn’t trustworthy? The Stanley that I know is brave. And kind. And honest. I’d trust Stanley with my life. I did trust Stanley with my life. Of course I nearly drowned. But that wasn’t his fault. Or was it?
I hear the phone ringing in the distance.
“Charlie, it’s for you!” my brother calls.
I race into the den and pick up the receiver quicker than you can say “the next time your mutant dinosaur cousin comes knocking, don’t answer the door if you know what’s good for you.”
“It’s Sam. Are you sitting down? Mrs. Pagliuso told Muchnick she saw you leaving Beautiful Bites right after the robbery the other day. Lucille and I . . . we thought you’d want to know.”
“I’m not surprised. Principal Muchnick says a couple of other people saw me, too. He just left. He says he’ll let me off easy if I confess to the crimes. If I don’t, I’m in even worse trouble.”
I hear a long sigh at the other end of the line. “What are you going to do?” Sam asks.
“Any suggestions?”
“Let’s see . . . confess, get off easy, move on, put it all behind you. Or . . . don’t confess, get into a lot of trouble for something you didn’t do that will dog you for the rest of your life, and have your principal mad at you for your next five years. Let’s see. After one or two nanoseconds of intense inner debate, I go with . . . confess. How about you, pal?”
“Sit tight and hope for a miracle.”
“I figured. And worry about it all night, right?”
“Of course.”
“You wo
uldn’t be Charlie if you didn’t. I mean that as a compliment. You’ll do the right thing. My money’s on you, pal. Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”
17
OUT OF THE FRYING PAN
“COME ON, BALLY, it’s getting late. Hold still.” It’s my turn to give the dog his evening walk, but he keeps dashing around the dining room, looking for stray crumbs. I guess he’s still worked up from the birthday party.
By now Uncle Marvin and Aunt Harriet have gone home. Dave’s helping Dad with the dishes. And Mom’s in the den, letting out my dreaded Sardine outfit. I just tried it on. It would fit me pretty well if I didn’t have legs, a tail, and a neck.
I finally manage to get Bally’s leash and collar on him. He whines when I try to take him out the back door. “Be good, Bally. Please.”
The second we’re outside, I smell mutant dinosaur in the yard. So does Bally. He hides behind my legs and whimpers. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. It’s just my cousin. He’s very nice. He won’t hurt you, Bally. Come on.” We follow the smell to behind the garage. I’m practically dragging him at this point.
Stanley is sitting on the stump finishing his dinner. He looks up when he hears us coming. “Are you hungry, fella?” he asks Balthazar. My cousin reaches down and holds out a piece of chicken. Bally wanders over and sniffs it cautiously. In about two seconds flat he wolfs it down and begs for more. Feed that dog once and he’s yours for life.
“Any luck finding the antidote?” I ask quietly.
Stanley gives me a long, hard look. “Yeah. Looks like my search is over, Charlie. I’ll be heading for home soon. I guess it’s safe to tell you now.” My cousin closes the Tupperware container I left him and hands it back to me.
“That’s . . . that’s really great, Stanley.” I am surprised to find myself getting choked up at the prospect of my cousin leaving.
“I couldn’t have done it without you, Charlie,” he says. “And I don’t just mean the food. You kept my mission a secret. Because of you, thousands of innocent creatures will live.”