After lunch Henry made a quick trip to the Rose City Bike and Trike Shop. His mother had given him the money for the twenty-two new spokes he needed. The man in the shop explained to Henry how to put new spokes into the wheels.
As Henry left the shop, he could not help noticing a shiny new bike with a racy red frame and a built-in headlight. If only his bicycle looked like that!
Back home, Henry went to work on his bicycle in his backyard. First he slipped off the tires and removed the broken spokes with his father’s pliers. Then he poked one end of each new spoke into its hole in the hub and the other end into the rim.
Henry was tightening the nuts that held the spokes in place when Beezus and Ramona came up the driveway. Beezus was carrying her baton and Ramona was riding her shiny new tricycle. The spokes in her wheels glistened in the sunshine as she pedaled along beside Beezus. When she got off the tricycle, she leaned it on two wheels against the house as if it were a bicycle.
“Your bike looks better already,” said Beezus, who was anxious to have Henry’s bicycle turn out right after her mistake that morning.
Henry tugged the tires back over the rims. “Yes, but not much,” he said. “Now I’ve got to find a way to turn it into a boy’s bike.”
At least, it does have a parking stand, thought Henry, as he propped the bike up.
He and Beezus studied it. “If I had a pipe and some welding stuff and knew how to weld, I could weld a pipe across to make it into a boy’s bike,” observed Henry.
“It would be easier to tie a piece of broom handle across,” said Beezus.
Henry frowned. Girls always thought of the dumbest things. Still, it might work—at least until he could think of a better idea. “OK, I’ll give it a try,” he said.
Henry found an old broom handle in the basement, measured it carefully, and sawed it off on the mark he had made. Then, with a piece of twine he happened to have in his pocket, he tied one end of the handle under the seat. The other he fastened below the handlebars.
Henry stood back to look at his work. Well, it could be better. Maybe if he painted the bike and the broom handle the same color and rode fast, nobody would notice. And, for the parade, he could cover the broom handle with roses or crepe paper or something.
“That looks keen,” said Beezus, twirling her baton around her fingers. “It’s good enough to ride in the Rose Festival parade.”
“Well…maybe.” Henry thought he’d better make sure he could fix his bicycle before he said anything more about the parade. Last year he had been a snake charmer with a bath-towel turban on his head and a snake made out of a stuffed nylon stocking around his neck, but this year he was getting pretty old to wear a costume and walk. He was determined to get his bike fixed in time.
Henry was examining the tires for holes when Robert came up the driveway.
“What have you got that piece of broom handle tied to the bike for?” demanded Robert.
Henry didn’t answer. Robert knew very well why the handle was tied to the bike.
“You just wait,” said Beezus, flipping her baton. “Henry’s bike is going to look all right when he gets it painted. He’s going to ride it in the parade.”
“I didn’t say for sure,” protested Henry, relieved that at least there were no visible holes in the tires.
“I bet you do.” Beezus twirled the baton over her head. This time she dropped it.
“Boi-i-ing!” shouted Robert. Henry was too busy with his bike to notice what was going on.
“Oh, be quiet!” snapped Beezus, as she picked up the baton. “You just wait until I twirl my baton in the parade. Mother is going to make me a drum-majorette costume.”
“The parade is only two weeks away.” Robert twanged a spoke with his finger. “You’ll have to be a whole lot better than that. And anyway, where will you get a band to lead?”
“You don’t have to have a band.” Beezus tried to flip her baton behind her back but dropped it in the grass. “I’m just going to march and twirl. Mary Jane is going to wear her rosebud costume and make a wreath of roses for Patsy to wear around her neck.” Patsy was Mary Jane’s cocker spaniel.
“I’m going to be the hind legs of a giraffe,” said Robert. “A fellow I know on Thirty-third Street is going to be the front half.”
“Bet you come apart in the middle,” said Beezus, who had once been the front end of a horse in a park circus.
Robert examined the bicycle carefully while Henry plucked at each spoke to see if it were tight enough. Some were tight, but many were loose. “Wish I had a real spoke wrench,” muttered Henry. “Now I’ll have to take the tires off again.”
“Scooter has a wrench in that little kit he carries on his bike,” said Robert. “I’ve seen him use it. It’s a thing that fits around the end of the spoke that goes through the rim.”
“You watch Ramona. I’ll go ask Scooter if you can borrow it,” said Beezus, anxious to help. She ran down the driveway before Henry could object. He didn’t want to borrow Scooter’s wrench, because Scooter might decide to come over and see what he was doing.
“Hey, Ramona, stop pulling Ribsy’s ears,” ordered Henry. “Why don’t you play you’re waiting for a bus?”
“OK,” was Ramona’s surprising answer, as she sat down on the back steps.
When Beezus returned with the wrench, Henry went to work on the spokes. He went around both wheels and tightened each spoke. Then he went over them again and gave them an extra twist just to make sure. He wasn’t going to have any loose spokes on his bike.
“Come on, Robert, give me a hand,” Henry said, after he had found a tire pump in the garage. He was beginning to feel excited. In a few minutes he could try his bike. The boys fitted the rubber tube over the valve on the rim and were taking turns pumping, when Scooter came up the driveway.
“Hi!” said Henry. He wondered what Scooter, who knew a lot about bicycles, would say.
Scooter laughed. “What have you got that old broom handle tied to the frame for?”
Henry, who was beginning to be sensitive about that broom handle, went on pumping.
Scooter walked around the bike and studied it carefully. He tried the bell, which pinged feebly. He wiggled the seat and examined the chain. There was no doubt about it. Scooter was an expert on bicycles.
Henry waited anxiously for the expert’s opinion. Except for that broom handle, he secretly thought his bike was pretty good now that the spokes were in. He paused in his pumping to ask, “Not bad for four dollars and four cents, is it?”
Scooter jiggled the handlebars. He ran his finger over the tires.
Henry began to feel uneasy. “Of course,” he added, “I still have a lot of things to do to it. Paint it and stuff.”
Scooter examined the fork that held the front wheel. He examined the fork that held the back wheel.
Old show-off, thought Henry. Why doesn’t he say something?
“Well…” said Scooter at last, “I suppose it will do for a kid your age. Of course, it needs a lot of work before it’ll be safe to use. You’ll need a light and a reflector and a good bell. The handlebars are loose and you need another handle grip. You’ll have to get a chain guard, and have both forks straightened, and tighten the seat, and mend the right pedal, and let’s see…Those tires are pretty smooth, and I don’t like the looks of that brake.”
Discouraged, Henry stared at his bike. Except for the missing handle grip and the bell, he hadn’t noticed any of the things Scooter mentioned. Leave it to Scooter to find a lot of things wrong. And the worst of it was, Scooter was probably right.
Henry went on pumping. “Well, one thing at a time,” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Say, Huggins,” said Scooter. “I’ve got an idea how we could win a blue ribbon in the bicycle section of the parade after you do some more work on your bike.”
“How?” asked Henry.
“Let’s take the front wheel off that old bike and fasten the front fork to the
back wheel of my bike and make a tandem. You know, a bicycle built for two, only ours will have three wheels.”
“Will it really work?” Robert was impressed with the suggestion.
“Sure it’ll work,” said Scooter. “How about it, Huggins?”
Henry was impressed with the idea, too, but he didn’t want to ride in the parade on an old piece of a bike fastened to Scooter’s good bike. Not after the way Scooter had acted. “Nope. I’m going to do something else,” he announced.
“Aw, come on,” said Scooter. “Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”
“Sure, it’s a good idea,” Henry had to admit. “I’m just going to do something else, is all.”
“What?” demanded Robert.
“I bet you think you’re going to ride that bike,” said Scooter.
“What if I am?” asked Henry. “You just wait. I’ll get it all fixed up and trimmed with flowers and things, and nobody’ll know it’s an old bike I got at an auction.”
“Let’s see you ride it,” said Scooter, when at last the tires were hard.
“OK. I suppose you think I can’t.” Just for good measure, Henry gave several spokes an extra hard twist with the wrench.
His mouth was dry as he kicked the parking stand into place. He knew the bicycle would wobble at first, and he didn’t want to take a spill in front of everyone. He wheeled the bicycle to the driveway, stepped on the pedal, and threw his leg over the seat. When his foot found the other pedal, he discovered that something was terribly wrong. There was no pull to the pedals. His feet spun around helplessly. Because the driveway sloped, he was able to coast, wobbling from side to side. Barking furiously, Ribsy ran along beside him.
Henry’s ears burned when he heard his audience shriek with laughter. Suddenly the pedals caught, and he was able to use them. Then he realized there was something else wrong with his bicycle. It moved with a peculiar twisting motion that made Henry go up and down as if he were on a rocking horse. The chain, which still had no graphite on it, groaned. Up and down he bobbed as he struggled to keep his balance. Then, in the midst of his confusion, he saw that the front wheel was so bent that it was no longer round. The back wheel must be bent, too, because he could hear it scraping against the fender every time it went around.
The two boys and Beezus, screaming with laughter, ran along behind Henry. Suddenly the groaning of the chain stopped, and he found his feet spinning helplessly on the pedals.
“Ride ’em, cowboy!” shouted Scooter, as Henry coasted on the twisting bicycle and pumped the spinning pedals furiously in his effort to make them work again.
The bicycle was wobbling out of control. Henry frantically tried to apply the coaster brake. Instead of stopping, the pedals began to spin backward. Henry tried to stop by dragging his foot, but the leg of his jeans caught in the chain. The bicycle spilled him onto the sidewalk and toppled over on top of him.
The others laughed even harder.
Henry worked his jeans out of the chain, untangled himself from the bike, and stood up, scowling and rubbing himself. “All right, cut it out. You’re not funny!” he said to Robert and Scooter, who were pounding each other on the back and whooping with laughter.
“That coaster brake…” Scooter was laughing so hard he couldn’t go on.
“And those wheels!” howled Robert.
Scooter doubled up with laughter. “It’s the spokes,” he whooped. “Who tightened them for you? Whoever it was sure bent the wheels doing it.”
“I did it myself,” said Henry with dignity, wondering if he hadn’t broken a few bones. As he started to wheel the bicycle up the driveway, he was glad to see that Beezus was no longer laughing at him.
“Are you still going to ride it in the parade?” asked Scooter.
“No,” said Henry coldly. He wheeled his bike into the garage, came out, and closed the doors. “I hope you’re satisfied, Scooter McCarthy,” he said crossly.
Scooter stopped laughing. “Say, Huggins, if I help you straighten out that back wheel, how about riding in the parade like I said?”
“No thanks,” said Henry, patting Ribsy’s head. Good old Ribsy. At least he had one friend left.
“Aw, come on,” coaxed Scooter.
“Nope,” said Henry flatly.
“OK, if that’s the way you feel,” said Scooter, shrugging his shoulders. “Come on, Robert. Help me roll my Journals.”
As the two boys left, Henry threw himself down on the back steps.
Beezus sat beside him. “I’ve got an idea,” she said. “Why don’t you wear a clown suit and ride the bike in the parade, and everybody will think you meant to be funny.”
Henry plucked a blade of grass. “No, I guess not. I’ll think of something.” He blew on the grass, which made a sputtering noise. Well, anyway, Beezus wasn’t laughing at him, and he probably would think of something. Maybe his mother would help him with a costume. It wouldn’t be the same as riding a bike, though.
Beezus, seeing that Henry wanted to be alone, decided it was time to go home. Henry was silent as he watched Ramona mount her shiny tricycle and ride off, her spokes twinkling in the sunshine.
He continued to sit and make sputtering noises on the blade of grass.
Mrs. Huggins came out and sat on the steps beside Henry. “I was watching through the window,” she said.
Henry didn’t say anything. Probably everyone on Klickitat Street was watching.
“I’m sorry we can’t get you a new bicycle, Henry,” said his mother, “but I think we could manage twenty dollars for a secondhand bicycle. If we watched the classified ads in the paper, we might find a good one that someone wanted to sell.”
Henry sighed. “Gee, thanks a lot, Mom, but I guess not. If I can’t have a brand-new bike without a single thing wrong with it, I guess I can get along without one.”
Mrs. Huggins smiled. “I understand. When I was your age I wanted some brand-new ice skates attached to white shoes. But I had to use my brother’s old hockey skates, so I know just how you feel.” She patted Henry lightly on the shoulder and went back into the house.
Somehow, Henry found he felt more cheerful. He blew on the blade of grass and produced an earsplitting whistle. He sat on the steps blowing and whistling and thinking about the shiny red bicycle in the Rose City Bike and Trike Shop.
7
The Boy Who Ate Dog Food
The next Friday afternoon Henry and Ribsy were walking home from school. They were going the long way past the Rose City Bike and Trike Shop so Henry could look at what he had come to think of as his bicycle—the one with the racy red frame and the built-in headlight. The only thing wrong with it was the price—fifty-nine dollars and ninety-five cents. It was exactly what Henry wanted, and he looked at it every time he had a chance.
After making sure his bike was still in the shop, Henry moved on. He was still trying to think of something he could do in the Rose Festival parade. Across the street from the supermarket he stopped to look at the new Colossal Market building that had just been finished. It covered a whole city block, and Henry had heard that the market would sell not only meats, groceries, and drugs, but would also have a filling station, a soda fountain, a florist’s stand, a beauty shop, a hardware store, and almost anything else you could think of.
Today there was a huge sign across the front of the building. Henry stopped to read it. The sign said:
* * *
TONITE
GRAND OPENING
MODERN ONE-STOP SHOPPING
DELUXE NEW COLOSSAL MARKET
NOW READY TO SERVE YOU
25 FREE DOOR PRIZES 25
FREE SAMPLES
FREE GARDENIAS FOR LADIES
FREE BALLOONS FOR KIDDIES
ENTERTAINMENT!
* * *
Jeepers, thought Henry. That’s a lot of free stuff. He decided to ask his mother and father to go. It was fun to collect free samples, and his mother might like a gardenia.
Henry was still trying to think o
f a good idea for the parade, when he and his mother and father joined the crowd of people visiting the new market that evening. Beezus was with them, because her mother had to stay at home to put Ramona to bed. Henry had given Ribsy a big bone for dinner so he would stay in his yard. If dogs had to stay out of the supermarket, they would certainly have to stay out of the Colossal Market.
In front of the Colossal Market six searchlights sent giant fingers of light into the sky. Henry saw Robert and Scooter talking to the men who ran the gasoline generators. As Henry and his father and mother and Beezus entered the market, someone handed each of them a ticket for the door prize. After they had written their names on the tickets and dropped them into a barrel, a girl in a fluffy blue skirt gave Mr. Huggins a package of razor blades. Another girl in a fluffy red skirt gave Mrs. Huggins a gardenia, while a clown offered Henry and Beezus balloons.
Beezus asked if she couldn’t count as a lady and have a gardenia instead of a balloon. When the girl handed her the flower, she took it, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply.
“Smell it, Henry,” she said. “Did you ever smell anything so beautiful in your whole life?”
Henry gave it a quick sniff. “It’s all right,” he said, tying the string of his balloon to the button on his beanie. When he put the beanie back on his head, he hung onto it with one hand until he was sure the balloon wouldn’t carry it away.
After agreeing to meet his mother and father by the front door at eight-thirty, Henry said, “Come on, Beezus, let’s find some free samples.”
Sniffing her gardenia, Beezus followed Henry, who had to stop before long and untangle his balloon string from the buttons of a lady’s coat. Then they sampled doughnuts, hot from a doughnut machine, and looked over the largest selection of comic books they had ever seen. They tasted frozen orange juice and decided to pass up a free sample of dehydrated Vitaveg soup in order to watch a man demonstrate a gadget for making roses out of beets and turnips. Then they paused at the Colossal Beauty Shoppe to watch a lady have a free facial. Henry thought she looked funny with her hair wrapped in a towel and greasy stuff smeared on her face. As he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror, he decided he might wear a balloon on his beanie in the parade.
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