What am I supposed to do—tell my friends how I got outsmarted by a little kid and humiliated myself in front of every older kid there? I spare myself the embarrassment, dodge Umberto’s wheelchair, and hurry down the hall.
“You can’t escape!” Matt calls.
“We’ll find you!” Carly adds.
“See you at lunch!” Umberto says.
I think about faking a stomachache but gather the courage to stick it out the whole day. (Although I do dive into the media center to hide when Brenda Osborne heads down the hall after science.)
My friends corner me in the cafeteria later and I have no choice but to answer them. I tell them the party was fun although I mostly just hung out with Steve.
“So when do we meet him?” Matt asks. “Where does he skateboard? We can go.”
Matt’s not teasing me; he’s trying to make an opening in our group for a new member. A wave of good thoughts washes over me. I already HAVE cool friends. Why am I looking for new ones? And I immediately know what I’m going to do with my two-hundred-thirty-two-dollar windfall: stop stalling and plan an incredibly awesome day for my REAL friends.
The Event of the Year
I make a giant list of possibilities for great ways to entertain my friends. Paintball and all the grilled cheese sandwiches you can eat? Laser tag and BLTs? Beach party and smoothies? I finally zero in on a few final choice.
First on my list is a Tony Hawk appearance in San Diego. It’s two hours away but Tony has been Matt’s and my skateboard idol since before we jumped on our first boards. He’s the most famous skateboarder in the world, which means Matt and I are in the company of millions of others who love to watch Tony perform. I’m disappointed to discover that the tickets to his show sold out the first day.
Plan B is something else Matt, Umberto, and I have talked about several times. It might not be Carly’s cup of tea, but she’s usually game for new things. After getting the company’s name online and having a conversation with the manager, everything is set to go. Until I realize I haven’t asked my parents.
Figuring out how I got money for a party takes some brainwork—and a giant lie. I make up a story about winning a raffle the children’s shelter had for all its volunteers and that I wanted to spend the winnings on my friends. (At least that part is true.) I can tell my mom’s about to grill me for more details but she gets an emergency call to help a poodle that broke its leg in the canyon. (Lucky for me; not so lucky for the poodle.)
I gather my friends at my house after school and tell them I have an announcement. Matt bangs a drumroll on the steps with his hands.
“I’ve planned something amazing for us to do next weekend.”
They each make a few off-the-wall guesses before letting me reveal the answer.
“I’m renting a Monster Truck.”
Matt and Umberto go nuts.
“When I talked to the guy at the rental place, he said he can use the driveway.”
Carly looks down the road at all the parked cars lining our street and asks if the Monster Truck will fit.
“The guy said it’ll be on a flatbed,” I answer. “He suggested we ask a few of the neighbors to move their cars when he pulls in.”
“But we won’t be able to drive it,” she says. “What do we do—just sit on it?”
Matt and Umberto look at her like she has ten heads. “We take pictures of ourselves on it!” Umberto says.
Matt shakes his head at the lameness of Carly’s question, but she continues her impression of a stick-in-the-mud anyway. “Where did you get the money?” she asks.
This time Matt and Umberto are silent, putting on their straight faces as I tell Carly the same raffle story I told my parents.
She nods thoughtfully. “It’s not like we need to do something expensive to have fun.”
Carly now sounds like a mini-Mom, and we all tell her she’s wrong.
Here’s what I DON’T tell Carly: that as much as I want to share the Baby Goldmine windfall with my friends, I also can’t wait to rub my neighbor Steve’s nose in the fact that he isn’t invited to my party. Having an awesome Monster Truck in the driveway while Steve watches from the curb DID play a small part in my decision. Vengeful? Maybe. I’m just hoping it lessens the feeling of humiliation whenever I think about babysitting his little brother instead of hanging out with Steve and his friends.
“I just want you to know—this party’s all on me,” I tell my friends. “I pay for everything, you just come, okay?”
Carly’s got second thoughts. “We can all chip in,” she suggests.
“I want you to promise you won’t spend a penny,” I tell them.
“No argument from me,” Matt says.
Umberto agrees.
Before she leaves, Carly pulls me aside. “Want me to make sure everything’s okay with the rental? I know how you are with details.”
“Stop treating me like a baby! I may not be able to read a book a week but I can do SOME things independently.”
“I just want to help.”
“I know you do.” I tell her I’ll see her at school.
As if to prove she’s not a wet blanket, Carly chants “MONSTER TRUCK! MONSTER TRUCK!” all the way down the driveway.
Not Exactly What I’d Planned
The Monster Truck is already half an hour late, but Umberto entertains us with his bowling app and Carly tries to teach Frank how to unscrew the top of the water bottle, a skill he’ll have to master when he leaves for monkey college next year. Capuchin monkeys like Frank make great companions for people with disabilities; I don’t want Frank to leave, but I know the person he’ll end up living with will be overjoyed to have him.
My parents moved their cars down the street so the giant truck can pull into our driveway. Matt downloaded a ton of songs that will be perfect background music for having a party on a Monster Truck.
“How about if Frank and Bodi join us?” Umberto asks.
My mother says she wants us to have a fun day without worrying about taking care of animals, which is just another way of saying no.
We all run to the end of the driveway when we hear a giant truck pull down the street. I do a quick check over my shoulder to see if Steve is outside to witness this awesome spectacle.
A guy with a Dodgers hat jumps out of the truck and asks me where he should set up. I point to the driveway and he hops back in. My friends and I look on the back of the flatbed. Something large is onboard but it doesn’t look like a Monster Truck. When the guy starts unloading onto the driveway, I ask him what’s up.
He looks at me quizzically, then pulls an order form from his back pocket. “You ordered the Monster Truck bounce house, right?” As he talks, he starts to pump up the inflatable bouncer.
“This is a Monster Truck BOUNCE HOUSE?” I yell. “I ordered a REAL Monster Truck!”
The man chuckles as the bouncer inflates. “Then I don’t know why you called me. I rent bouncers for kids’ parties.”
Matt’s in shock but Umberto bursts out laughing.
Carly just shakes her head. “You didn’t finish reading, right? You saw the words ‘Monster Truck’ and just stopped there?”
It’s scary how well Carly knows me.
“We had a whole conversation,” I tell the man. “I thought we were talking about the TRUCK going up and down, not the bounce house!”
Carly puts on her most helpful face. “Well, let’s make the best of it and have some fun.”
But I don’t want to have fun in a little kids’ party bouncer. I want to hang off a giant truck with six-foot tires and a deafening engine. I want photos I can blow up to poster size and hang in my room and locker.
Matt points to the bright red and yellow plastic truck now set up in my driveway. “Technically it IS a Monster Truck.”
Umberto looks at the moon bounce that he couldn’t use if he wanted to and tells me he’s heading home. I ask the man if there’s any way to make the bouncer handicap accessible but he says no. Umberto ex
plains that it’s no big deal, that he has to go home soon, but I know it’s a total lie.
Matt kicks off his sneakers and somersaults into the moon bounce. “Come on in—the water’s fine!”
Carly joins him and soon they’re having a contest to see who can jump the highest.
My father just shrugs while my mom slips her arm around me. I sneak out of her hug.
“It’s not what you thought but it’s still fun,” Mom says. “I agree with Carly—make the best of it.”
To my horror, Steve and his little brother are making their way across the yard. I mumble an introduction to my mom.
“Taylor was wondering if he could join in,” Steve asks.
Taylor’s already halfway into the bouncer, not waiting for an answer.
“It was supposed to be a REAL Monster Truck,” I tell Steve.
He shrugs, then waits for my mother to leave. “By the way, my parents made me repaint the kitchen. Thanks a lot, loser.” He sticks his earbuds in and heads back to his house. This is what I get for trying to impress a kid who’s got zero interest in being my friend.
The guy from the rental company hands me forms on a clipboard to sign. “I hope you’re not too disappointed,” he says. “Most of our customers are usually happy with our service.”
I’m barely listening because I’m too busy staring at the form. When you add up the rental fee, the taxes, and delivery, all the money I made from Baby Goldmine is now gone.
The man tears off the bottom sheet and hands it to me. “You’ve got another hour and a half—might as well start jumping.”
I take his advice and climb into the bouncer. Jumping around IS pretty fun, until Matt accidentally lands on Taylor, who runs home crying, and Carly loses one of her tiny earrings that takes us twenty minutes to find. Not to mention Steve and several of his friends sitting on his front steps watching us, probably with a running commentary about how lame we are. By the time the bouncer is packed up, I’m not sure which of us is more deflated.
After Carly goes home, Matt and I sit on the back steps where he steals a look at the receipt and lets out a long whistle. “I feel like my dad, complaining about how expensive everything is,” Matt says. “That cost a fortune!”
“Maybe we should’ve just had a grilled cheese party after all.”
Matt scans the texts coming in on his phone, staring at the voice bubbles as if they’re messages from the underworld.
“It’s my brother. There’s a problem with Baby Karen.”
“Didn’t the woman get the package?”
“She got it all right,” Matt says. “But she wants her money back.”
“What? That money’s history.”
“Yeah well, so are we if we don’t take care of this.”
“How can we pay her back? I just spent all the money!”
“All I know is my brother’s furious. He wants to see us NOW.”
This isn’t how I thought my superfun and EXPENSIVE day would end.
The Other Shoe Drops
Matt and I pace around his kitchen, waiting for Jamie.
“The woman who bought the doll wrote Jamie a nasty e-mail,” he says. “She said she’s going to give him a bad eBay rating. He told me we have to take care of this pronto.”
As if to emphasize the point, Jamie suddenly appears. “I make a lot of money selling my stuff online,” he says. “And you two are putting my business in jeopardy.”
I apologize ten times but Jamie’s still hopping mad. “I let you guys use my log-in and password! My reputation is at stake. Your buyer’s going to give me a bad review!”
I nod but can’t help thinking how much trouble Jamie’s gotten into in the past—not just when he was our age but recently too. To use one of my parents’ favorite idioms, it’s a case of “the pot calling the kettle black.” But Jamie’s so mad, there’s no way I’m bringing that up now.
“You’ve got to return that woman’s money.” Jamie leans in close to Matt, who in turn leans toward me.
“Can I write her an e-mail?” I ask meekly. “Maybe see if I can send her the money after Christmas?”
Jamie looks at me like I’m the biggest bunionhead he’s ever met. And given some of Jamie’s friends, that’s saying something.
“Besides, why does she want her money back?” I ask. “What was wrong with Baby Karen?”
Jamie scrolls through the messages on his phone, until he finds the woman’s e-mail. “‘You said this doll was in excellent condition, which is why I paid so much money. But any collector knows Baby Karen comes with a black purse, which was not included, even though you said it was like new. I am returning your package today; please process a full refund immediately.’”
“She’s worried about the doll’s purse? SHE’S the one with the problem, not us!” I say.
Jamie grows even more annoyed. “If you say something is in perfect condition, it means it’s like brandnew, with all the pieces! Don’t you guys know anything?”
“I never saw a purse,” Matt says. “Was it in the box?”
For the life of me, I cannot remember.
Jamie points to us both. “You two are sending her that refund or you’ll have to deal with me AND her. You better pray she’s not some hotshot attorney. She could take you to court.”
I have no idea if that’s true, but I’ve seen enough TV shows to know I don’t want it to happen. When I picture myself on the witness stand with a judge banging his gavel, I feel like I might start crying.
After Jamie leaves, Matt looks as concerned as I am. “You’ve got to take care of this! I haven’t seen Jamie this mad since we scratched his car!”
Memories of that afternoon with our runaway scooters come flooding in, frightening me even more.
“You’ve got to tell your parents,” Matt continues. “Borrow the money, give the refund, then pay them back.”
“You know how long it’ll take to pay back that much money? I’ll be their slave for years. Plus, I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the day.” I feel my fear slowly turning to anger. “Why should I be the only one to pay the woman back?”
“Because it was your party, your idea. You made us promise not to give you money!” Matt seems angry now too. “You just wanted your cool new neighbor to think you were a big shot. Well, newsflash—big shots pay.”
I jump on my board and head home, embarrassed that Matt figured out my secret motive with Steve. Was it that obvious?
As I race down the hill, my head bursts with all my mistakes. Why didn’t I just keep Baby Goldmine with the other dolls? Why did I think I was some kind of super-businessman? Why did I spend all that money on a stupid moon bounce? Why did I think I could mail a doll to a total stranger and suddenly be rich? WHAT IS MY PROBLEM?
I tear apart the top shelf of my closet and look inside all of my sneakers for Baby Karen’s purse. I look through the room we wrapped the package in; I even search Frank’s cage. (He loves stealing my toys.) I rummage through the living room and kitchen but the purse is nowhere to be found. I’m not sure I ever had it in the first place.
It’s obviously time to throw myself on the mercy of the court so I don’t have to go to a real one. I take small comfort in Bodi, who slips underneath my chair, tail wagging. From his cage, Frank seems happy to see me too. I say the words I was hoping to say less and less this year:
“Mom? I need your help.”
Another Teaching Moment
My mother listens patiently to my story, interrupting a few times to clarify the details. When I finally finish, she pauses before answering.
“I thought you told us you won that money in a raffle.”
I make my eyes as sad as they can be and stare back at her wordlessly.
“That’s a pretty big lie, Derek.”
The sorrowful expression is obviously not working. “I know,” I admit. “That’s why I’m in so much trouble now.”
She wipes the cornbread crumbs off the kitchen table. “Well, if you were going to keep one o
f the donations and sell it, you probably should’ve done some research to see if the doll came with accessories.”
“I’ve never been good with research. You KNOW that.”
My mom listens calmly. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.
“I guess looking back, you might have left that doll with the others. Someone donated her to the shelter, not to you.”
I tell my mom I know that and as soon as the buyer sends the doll back, I’m taking it straight to the shelter.
“I think that’s smart.” She throws the handful of crumbs into the trash.
“So…” I let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, waiting for her to lend me the money so I can pay back the buyer immediately before Jamie comes after me.
“Well, I’m glad you finally told me the truth,” Mom says.
“And?” I gather up my mental strength to finish the conversation. “If I could just borrow the money to pay her back, that would be great.”
My mother seems perplexed. “You want me to lend you money after you lied to my face?”
Why did I think she’d forget that tiny detail of the story? “It would just be a loan. I’d pay you back after Christmas and my birthday.”
She doesn’t seem angry, just steadfast. “I thought you wanted to be a big kid this year—more responsible and mature?”
I tell her that’s true.
“Well, if you want to be treated more like a grown-up, you can’t have your mom bail you out. You’ll have to figure a way to fix this yourself.”
“But I DID figure a way out—getting money from you.”
“That wouldn’t be learning much of a lesson, would it? Especially for a serious crime like lying.”
My Life as a Joke Page 6