Shivers was distraught. “What are we going to do? Find someone named Frank to help us? But I don’t have any friends named Frank! Unless—” He looked at Margo and Albee. “Are you guys named Frank? No, of course not! Do I have to change my name to Frank? I can’t do that! My name is who I am! I’m Shivers the Pie Man!”
Margo would have pulled her hair out in frustration if she had been listening. But instead, she was scribbling a solution. She taped a piece of paper on her shirt, another on Shivers’s shirt, and one on Albee’s bag. Albee wasn’t wearing a shirt. Shivers looked down and read aloud, “knarF si eman ym ,iH.” He scratched his head. “Margo, are you left-handed?”
“Yes, I’m left-handed but I know how to write. You’re reading it upside down,” she explained. “Here, read mine.”
“Hi, my name is Frank,” he recited. “Oh . . . trickery?” His voice started to quiver. Tricks made him uncomfortable. He had heard they were for kids, but they seemed very adult. “Do you think it’ll work?”
“Only one way to find out,” she said, and they ran the rest of the way to the New York Hotel.
As they walked into the lobby, Albee noticed a sign that said NO SHIRT, NO SHOES, NO SERVICE. He crossed his fins that no one would notice him.
In the corner of the lobby was an entrance to a grand ballroom with a huge banner above it that read FRANK FEST! JUST BE FRANK! There was a long line of people all waiting anxiously to get inside.
The wait felt long to Shivers, but even longer to Margo and Albee since they had to spend most of the time listening to Shivers go on about what he called The Dangers of Lines. Those dangers included: there’s always someone sneaking up behind you; what if it’s really a circle that goes on forever; and if one person falls, everyone else will fall like a bunch of dominoes.
When they finally reached the entrance to the ballroom, two men seated behind a table greeted them. One was wearing a golf shirt and a visor shadowing his freckle-flecked face, and the other was wearing a fancy suit.
“I’m Frank,” said Fancy Frank.
“So am I!” said Freckles. “You must be Frank, Frank, and Fish Frank.”
“That’s right!” said Margo.
“Welcome to Frank Fest!” said the Franks at the same time.
“Frank you!” Shivers said.
Fancy and Freckles burst out laughing and patted Shivers on the back. He was about to walk into the grand ballroom, when Freckles Frank stopped him. “Say, are you sure your name is Frank?” he asked.
Beads of sweat started to form on Shivers’s head. This was why he hated tricks. He was so terrified that he forgot how to speak. And now he couldn’t even remember what question the Franks asked him, let alone what the right answer was.
“Hey, buddy, I’m just franking your chain!” Freckles said. “Of course you’re a Frank, you’ve got that awesome name tag!”
“Don’t forget your welcome gift!” Fancy Frank said, holding out a yo-yo with an F on both sides.
“No way!” Shivers recoiled. “When I drop something on the ground, I prefer that it stays down there, not come spinning back up at me like it wants revenge.”
Freckles and Fancy eyed each other, confused. Margo said, “I’ll take one.” It seemed like an odd gift, but then again, these Franks threw an odd fest. She threw the yo-yo in her backpack as she made her way past the table and into the ballroom.
Inside, it was so crowded it looked like there was a sea of Franks surging throughout the room. The roar of their chatter was almost as loud as waves in a storm. The Franks were as different as could be—men, women, and kids of all shapes and sizes. They had names like Francis, Franklin, Frankfurt, Francesca, and there was even one guy named Frankenstein. But at the fest, everyone was just Frank.
They wove their way through the crowd but didn’t make it far before a tall Frank tapped Shivers on the shoulder and pointed at Albee. “Is he here for the Frank Tank?” Behind him was a huge fish tank with all kinds of fish swimming around inside. “We like to give our Fish Franks the opportunity to get to know each other. You know, swim, blow bubbles, eat Frank flakes,” the tall man exclaimed proudly. “I’m sure your fish would love it in there!”
“Albee?” Shivers asked.
Margo stared daggers at Shivers, which he thought was extremely unsafe.
“Ahem.” Shivers cleared his throat. “I’ll be happy to hand over my fish. My fish who is definitely named Frank!”
“Well, of course he is,” the tall Frank said. “Look at that awesome name tag!” He took Albee from Shivers’s hands and poured him from his bag into the tank.
Albee plunged into the new water and found himself facing a shimmering pink guppy with a bright yellow tail.
The charade begins, he thought. Then he said, “I’m Frank.”
“Aren’t we all?” the guppy replied.
Albee chuckled at her sparkling wit. Before he knew it, they were discussing art and science and the meaning of life, and eating more Frank flakes than he ever thought possible.
Margo and Shivers carved their way through the enormous ballroom and got a better look at how much the Frank Fest had to offer. There was a sign that said FRANK FEELINGS CIRCLE, and underneath was a group of Franks sitting on pillows, crying and hugging. Nearby, there was a fenced off area called FRANK’S KITTY CORNER, where a gray-haired lady in overalls and fluffy socks corralled a bunch of mewing kittens and cooed, “Here, Frankie Frankie Frankie.” There was a tent labeled FRANK’S FASHIONS. Franks would go inside and after a few minutes, come back out wearing a matching shirt, socks, and shoes, looking frankly fabulous. “I wonder if they have any bibs in there?” Shivers asked. “I’ve really been getting into those lately.”
But Margo was too busy for bibs. She was puzzling over the next part of the clue: “You must take note of how these Franks make change.”
“Change what?” Shivers wondered aloud. “Change the channel? Change a light bulb? Change their minds?”
They looked all around but there was no sign of a solution. There was, however, a sign of a sign. It was a big sign just above a red velvet tent. It said FRANK’S TREASURE TROVE in letters that seemed to float like smoke out of a genie lamp.
But what really grabbed Shivers’s attention was a magnificent piano at the tent’s entrance. The piano was black and white and perfectly polished so it shimmered in the light. Its gleaming white keys stretched out like a big toothy smile. And Shivers smiled back. And the best part was the piano was playing a song all by itself.
His eyes bulged like baking biscuits and he said, “Maybe the clue means change . . . their tune!!!”
“I don’t think—”
But before Margo could respond, Shivers had tap danced over to the tent and gone inside. She had no choice but to follow him in.
The Treasure Trove was an antique shop filled from floor to ceiling with the oddest, oldest objects Shivers had ever seen. There was an entire wall covered in clocks all set to different times, shelves packed with a variety of globes—both regular and snow—and at least six suits of knights’ armor. There were dozens of paintings of old boats and big dogs and even a framed picture of a soup can with price tag that said, IF YOU HAVE TO ASK, YOU CAN’T AFFORD IT.
It was all so overwhelming to Shivers that he thought he felt a scream coming on, but it turned out to be a sneeze. The place was really dusty.
“Hello?” Shivers called out, wondering if there was anyone in there.
“Welcome to the Treasure Trove,” a man replied, popping up from behind the counter. He had a low, gravelly voice and an accent that sounded like he had peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth. It made him sound extra mysterious. He had crooked eyes, and three silver teeth jutting through a crooked smile. A thin gray mustache drooped over the corners of his mouth and down past his chin. “You must be Frank and Frank.”
Shivers figured this man must be named Frank, too. He put his arm up on the counter and said, “I saw that fantastic piano out front and I just had to see
what was inside your shop!”
“Oh, it’s not much,” Frank said bashfully. “Just a small part of my collection of the finest, rarest oddities from around the world. So, you’re interested in the porcelain panda piano from Paris?”
“Very,” said Shivers. “I’ve always wanted a self-playing piano.”
“Actually, it’s being played by a ghost.”
“AAAAAAAAAGH!” Shivers screamed.
“I’m just kidding,” Frank chuckled. “But it is extraordinarily expensive. You have such a lovely screaming voice. Do you sing?”
“Do I sing?!” Shivers shouted. “Is the ocean filled with giant squids?”
Frank shrugged. “Uh, I don’t—”
“YES! Yes to everything!” Shivers said.
“Well then, you might be interested in this!” Frank held out a beautiful blue velvet top hat dotted with shimmering sequins that sparkled like stars in the night sky. “It’s a topaz top hat from Tokyo.”
“I love it!!!!!!” Shivers shouted, snatching the hat and shoving it onto his head. “I’ll take one. No, forget it. I’ll take a thousand!! No, that’s too many. I’ll take a hundred!”
“That’ll be five hundred francs.”
“What?” Shivers was perplexed. “But I’m only one Frank.”
“Not Franks, francs! The coins they used to use for money in France. It’s the only accepted currency here at Frank Fest.”
“Francs?! I’ve never heard of those before in my life! Are you sure that’s a real thing?”
“It’s as real as me,” Frank said, holding up a silver coin. “This is a French franc, and I’m a French Frank.”
“Ohh, so that’s why it sounds like your mouth is stuffed with peanut butter,” Shivers said.
Frank laughed and handed Shivers the coin. “If you want a hundred of those hats, you’re going to need a big chunk of change.”
“Change!” Margo and Shivers shouted at the same time.
Margo looked at Frank apologetically. “Will you excuse us for a second?” Then she took the top hat off of Shivers’s head and held it to the side, hiding their faces so they could have a private top hat chat.
“So now we know how the Franks make change,” Margo whispered.
“Francs!!!” Shivers cheered.
Margo took a closer look at the silver coin and noticed the strange spelling of “franc.” She took out the clue and examined it. “It’s even spelled the same in the next part of the clue: ‘Don’t overlook where Franks get francs to find your destination.’”
“So where do these Franks get their francs?”
“It must be where everyone gets money—the bank!” Margo grinned.
“You mean we’re going to find our destination?! We’re going to get the Treasure Torch?!” Shivers beamed.
Margo nodded and they jumped up and down excitedly. Then Shivers lowered the top hat and they saw that Frank was looking at them strangely, his crooked eyes even more crooked than before.
“This hat smells a little weird. I’ll have to think about it!” Shivers tossed the hat back to Frank, and he and Margo darted out of the store.
Back in the bright lights of the ballroom, Margo knew exactly where to go. She led Shivers across the room to a brightly lit sign that said FRANK BANK. The Frank Bank was a big metal machine bolted to the wall. It looked just like a token machine at an arcade, except instead of giving out useless tokens it gave out useless foreign currency.
Margo stared at the clue, reading out loud: “Don’t overlook where Franks get francs to find your destination.” She balled her fists up impatiently. “We’re not overlooking it! We’re looking right at it!”
Shivers shrugged. “Maybe we’re overthinking it, and we just need to underlook it.”
“What does underlook mean?”
“It’s what I do to my bed before I go to sleep to make sure there aren’t any monsters under it.” And with that, Shivers crouched down, covered his eyes with one hand and reached under the machine with the other. “Dust bunny . . . Dust bunny . . .” And then, “NOT DUST BUNNY!” His hand flew back like a turtle on a treadmill. “Margo, there’s something under there. It may or may not be a monster. Your turn to check.”
Margo sighed and got down on the floor. She felt around to see what she could find. Suddenly, her hand brushed against something cold. She wrapped her fingers around it and pulled out . . .
“A key!” she exclaimed. In her hand was a big silver key. Engraved on the side were the words BANK OF NEW JERSEY: VAULT 25.
“Bank of New Jersey? That’s right by my beach! It’s been there the whole time? I knew those clams were trying to send me back to shore!”
Shivers’s heart was pounding like the bass drum in a marching band. They had found their destination. All they had to do was open this vault and then he could get the Treasure Torch and return it to the mayor. And then he wouldn’t have to lose his beach, or his ship, or his best friend.
“We solved the clue! We solved the clue!” Margo cheered, jumping up and down and waving the piece of paper above her head triumphantly. “Take that, Francois! Whoever you are!”
Suddenly, the clue was plucked from her fingers and they heard a peanut-buttery voice say, “Whoever I am?!!!!!!”
MARGO AND SHIVERS GASPED for air, but all they got was a mouthful of scare. Standing above them was the man from the Treasure Trove.
“You’re Francois?” Margo stuttered.
“I thought your name was Frank!” Shivers stammered.
“Francois is French for Frank!” Francois barked.
Shivers couldn’t believe it. “But if you’re Francois, that means you—”
“Wrote this clue! Yes!”
“But that means you—”
“Hid Mustardio’s torch for him! Yes!”
“And that means you’re—”
“Really good at finishing sentences! I know!”
“Why would Mustardio trust you to hide his torch?” Margo said suspiciously.
Francois arched his crooked eyebrows. “Because that’s what brothers do.”
“That evil hot dog bully was your brother?!” Shivers squeaked.
“Yes. And everyone always said he was the nice one in the family.” Francois lunged at Margo and roared, “Now give me that key!” He tried to grab her but she darted away just in time. Instead, he caught Shivers’s shirt and pulled, ripping his name tag right off. Francois gasped. “Your name isn’t even Frank, is it?!”
“Uh, not exactly . . .” Shivers squirmed. “It’s Shivers.”
“SHIVERS!” Francois screamed. “You’re the pirate who blew up my brother!”
Shivers looked at Margo in desperation. She looked back with determination and yelled,
They tore off toward the exit. As they ran, Shivers looked down at his empty hands and realized something was missing. “My first mate!” he screamed, and he made a hard right toward the Frank Tank. It was a really hard right because he smashed straight into a wall. But he picked himself up and got back on track. They found Albee still deep in conversation with the guppy. Margo handed Shivers a spare sandwich bag from her backpack. He plunged the bag into the tank and scooped Albee up without anyone seeing.
“Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something!?” Albee shouted.
But his voice was drowned out by an announcement echoing through the ballroom. Francois’s voice crackled over the speakers. “Attention, Franks. There are two traitors among us. Do not make friends with them, they are frauds! One is wearing billowy pantaloons and the other has a big green backpack and a stolen silver key. Do NOT let them get away!”
Gasps of shock and surprise rippled through the ballroom. Every Frank in the Fest looked around suspiciously, then their gazes zeroed in on Shivers and Margo. They started running toward them, yelling angrily and shaking their fists.
Margo began backing away slowly. “We have to think fast.”
“No!” Shivers declared. “We have to run fast!”
They scrambled around the Frank Tank and away from the mob, but the fury of Franks followed close behind. They looped around Frank’s Flank Steaks, which smelled delicious, and whizzed past Frank’s Stinky Sneaker Supply, which smelled awful. Soon they were at the Frank Feelings Circle. Margo stopped short like a baseball player on opposite day. She grabbed two fluffy red pillows from the ground and planted her feet. “PILLOW FIGHT!!!!!!”
The Franks ran at her, and one by one she batted them away until their faces were filled with more feather and fluff than a duck in the dryer. She swung one pillow above her head like a lasso, then flung it through the air, knocking out a whole line of Franks. She put another pillow on her head like a football helmet. “This one’s called the pillow plow!” she announced, then ran headfirst into all the Franks she could find. “Come on, Shivers, get in here!” she shouted.
But Shivers was too busy testing the fluffiness of each pillow. He loved pillows but hated pillow fights. Why ruin a good thing? he thought.
Margo was down to her last pillows and the flood of Franks wasn’t stopping anytime soon. They had to retreat.
They ran as fast as they could. Albee bounced in his bag like a bingo ball. With the stampede of Franks on their heels, Margo and Shivers ducked into Phrank’s Photo Booth and, just as quickly, snuck out the other side.
“Get them!” one Frank cried.
“Where are they?!” another Frank asked frantically.
“Over by you, Frank!” a Frank responded.
“Who Frank? Me Frank?” asked Frank.
“No, not you, Frank, the other Frank!” Frank answered firmly.
“I’m Frank!” said fifteen other Franks.
All the confusion bought Shivers, Margo, and Albee some extra time. “Over there!” Shivers yelled, pointing to the exit. But he was screaming so much it sounded more like “AAGGHVER THAAAAGHR!!”
He led Margo around a corner and down a long, narrow row of Frank shops. Then he led her around another corner. But the faster they ran, the closer the sound of the mob became.
The Pirate Who's Back in Bunny Slippers Page 4