Barfing in the Backseat (8 page)

“Well, I guess if you keep her in the cage, I could make an exception,” Jimmy Jim said. “We worry about animals stirring up the hives. You can’t bee too careful with bees.”

“Bee-lieve me, we’ll be careful,” my dad snorted, in a rare show of humor. I think you’ll agree he’s not what you’d call a big jokester.

Our room was number 15. Dad, Mom, Emily, and the unwanted reptile were in number 16.

If I tell you this room was weird, it would be an understatement. It was, as Jimmy Jim James would say, un-bee-lievable. Everything was bee
themed. The bedspread had black and yellow stripes. The handles on the bathroom faucets were bee wings. The snacks in the TV cabinet were chocolate-covered honeycomb, orange-covered honeycomb, and honey-covered honeycomb.

What happened to pretzels?

Oh, there they are. Honey covered pretzels. Right next to the bottle of iced tea, flavored with, you guessed it…honey.

After we moved our suitcases in, Frankie flopped down on the bed to relax before dinner.

“There’ll be none of that,” I said to him. “Get your tired butt off that bed. We have a mission to accomplish.”

“What now, Zip?” Frankie said.

“We’ve got to talk to Jimmy Jim before dinner and let him know there’s a package arriving for me tomorrow morning.”

“Good thought, dude,” Frankie said. “We should tell him not to tell your dad. And leave him some money for the delivery.”

“Do you think five dollars will cover it?” I asked. “It’s all I have.”

Frankie took a deep breath, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a twenty dollar bill.

“This was supposed to be for my University of North Carolina hat,” he said with a sigh. “But I don’t look good in blue, anyway.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Frankie. I swear.”

I knocked on my parents’ door to tell them we were going exploring and we’d meet them at dinner. I was worried that Emily would want to come, but she was busy making Katherine a bed out of the cotton balls and Q-tips that were in the bathroom.

“I’m sorry you can’t leave the room, Kathy,” I heard her saying. “But Mommy’s going to make you all comfy and safe.”

Could you just throw up?

We headed right to the office. No one was there, but there was a sign over the front desk that said buzzzzzzzz for service.

Of course it said that.

We buzzed and buzzed, but still, no service.

Come on, Jimmy Jim. This is no time for you to disappear!

W
E WAITED FOR A FEW SECONDS,
then buzzed again. Finally, a voice called out.

“Back here, in the kitchen.”

Frankie and I walked around the front desk and crossed through the office. We had to be careful not to knock over the bear-shaped and bee-shaped jars of honey that were on display. In back of the office was a big old kitchen. Jimmy Jim was at the stove, standing next to a tall, blond woman who was wearing the same bee overalls as he was.

“Hey, boys, meet my wife, Honey,” he said, pointing to the woman who was pulling a big pan of corn bread out of the oven.

“Your name is actually Honey?” I asked. I hoped that didn’t seem rude, but the words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“It took me quite a while to find her,” Jimmy
Jim said. “I met a lot of Barbaras and Susans, but then one night at the red barn dance, I saw her standing at the punch bowl. I offered to pour her a cup of punch, but when she said she preferred iced tea with honey, I knew she was the girl for me.”

“My name was actually Henrietta, but I never liked it much,” Honey said. “I had it legally changed to Honey as a wedding present for my Jimmy Jim.”

“I hope we’re not disturbing you,” I said, getting right to business, “but we have something very important to talk to you about.”

“It concerns a package coming through the U.S. mail,” Frankie said. I could tell he was trying to sound urgent. And it worked, because Jimmy Jim turned away from the frying chicken and faced us.

“Okay, boys, you got my ear. In fact, you got both of them.”

“And mine, too,” Honey chimed in. “That makes four ears.”

“We’re expecting a package to arrive tomorrow morning addressed to me,” I explained. “It’s really important that no one sees that
package but me.”

“Specifically, Hank’s dad, Mr. Zipzer, is not to know about the package,” Frankie said. “It’s strictly confidential.”

Jimmy Jim raised an eyebrow and gave us a suspicious look.

“What are we talking about, boys, that your dad can’t know about?”

Uh-oh. Maybe we had overdone it on the strictly confidential bit. I looked at Frankie. He looked at me. And without thinking about it, I blurted out, “Birthday present.”

“Right,” Frankie said, catching on. “It’s a surprise birthday present for our main man, Mr. Z.”

Jimmy Jim’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Now that’s what I call considerate.”

Honey came over and threw her long arms around my neck. She smelled like a human corn bread.

“If you aren’t the sweetest thing, then I don’t know what is,” she said. “Your parents must be so proud of you. And you, too,” she said to Frankie. “I can see why you’re best friends.”

Okay, I admit I was starting to feel a little
guilty taking all this praise when really all I was doing was covering my butt. But difficult situations call for difficult action. And I rose to the challenge.

“It’s something I’ve been planning for over a year,” I said. “I can’t wait to see my dad’s face when I give him what’s in the packet…I mean…package.”

“Can you tell us?” Jimmy Jim asked. “We won’t let it out of the bag.”

“I’d love to tell you, really I would,” I said to them, “but this whole situation makes me so nervous that I really don’t trust myself to say.”

“He hasn’t even told his mom,” Frankie said, seeing that I could use some more support. “I’m the only one on the planet who knows what’s inside that packet. I mean, package.” That was the closest thing to the truth we had said since this conversation started. I felt it was best to get out while the getting was good.

“So not a word at dinner,” I said, handing them the delivery money.

“Our lips are zipped,” Honey said, making a gesture like she was zipping up her lips.

“I’ll keep a lookout for the package tomorrow
morning,” Jimmy Jim said. “When it comes, we’ll bring it to your room wrapped in a towel.”

Frankie and I were one smooth team. I was tremendously relieved when we left the kitchen. I promised myself that when the packet came, I’d put it in my backpack and never let it out of my sight again. Mr. Chapeau and the U.S. postal system were giving me a second chance, and I wasn’t going to mess up twice.

I
T DIDN’T ARRIVE.
You heard me. My homework packet was a no-show.

TEN PLACES MY HOMEWORK PACKET COULD BE

“W
E
’
VE GOT A PROBLEM,”
I said to Frankie the next morning as I shook him awake. “I just came from the office, and Jimmy Jim said the mail had already arrived. Without my packet. I’m dead meat.”

“Breathe, Zip,” Frankie said. “There’s got to be some way. Let’s think this out.”

All I could think was that the situation was bad. We were supposed to tour the bee farm, then leave for Charlotte that afternoon. And that meant we’d be leaving without my packet. And that meant I’d have to tell my dad that I lost it. And that meant that he’d have to punish me severely. And that meant I’d never get to ride on the Super Duper Looper until I was thirty-nine and by then I’d be so old, I wouldn’t want to, anyway.

So knowing all that, my breathing came to a
full stop. Fortunately, Frankie had an idea.

“Our only link to the package is Mr. Chapeau,” he said.

“Let’s call him. We have to call him right now.”

I grabbed for the phone next to the bed, but dropped it like it was on fire.

“I can’t use the motel’s phone to make a long distance call,” I said. “It’ll be on the bill. Frankie, hand me your cell phone.”

“Zip, you’re killing me. My parents said only for emergencies, and we already had our emergency in Richmond.”

“Well if you look up emergency in the dictionary, it will say ‘right here, right now.’” I was in full-out panic mode. “And besides, what we had in Richmond was a smallish problem compared to what we have here, which I would call an emergency. No, a disaster. No, a catastrophe. Or whatever is even worse than a catastrophe. I’m begging you, Frankie.”

“Relax, Zip. I would’ve said yes at smallish problem.”

Frankie rummaged in his backpack and found the cell phone. We didn’t even have to
look up Mr. Chapeau’s number at the Comfort-For-U Motel, because it was in the memory as the last call we made. I pressed send, and after only two rings, that French accent that I was praying to hear spoke up.

“
Bonjour
. Hello. Monsieur Chapeau
ici
. I’m here to help you.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re there,” I spat out. “This is Hank Zipzer. Remember me? You were going to send my—”

“Ah,
oui
. Yes, of course, the young man with the homework problem.”

“That’s me. And the problem hasn’t exactly gone away, Mr. Chapeau, because the packet didn’t arrive. Not to be rude, but what happened? You said you were going to send it.”