EllRay Jakes is a Rock Star! (6 page)

A few minutes later, Dad comes into the dining room with a weird look on his face, just as Mom has finished passing the mac and cheese to Alfie and me.

“What's wrong?” my mom asks, looking up.

“Were there any strangers in the house when I was away, Louise?” he asks. His voice sounds funny, and I start to feel even more nervous.

“Just the electrician,” Mom tells him. “Such a nice young man. He came yesterday to give an estimate on adding that new outlet.”

“So he went into my office,” Dad says, almost to himself.

“Well, yes,” Mom replies. “He had to, to see where the outlet was supposed to go. Why? What's wrong?”

“Some things are missing,” Dad says quietly.

My mom almost drops the salad bowl, she is so horrified. “Oh, no,” she says.

“We had
robbers
?” Alfie squawks, her brown eyes wide. “Maybe they took some of my toys!” And she races out of the room to check.

“I'll calm her down in a minute. What's missing?” Mom asks my dad. “Not your big computer or the printer, I hope.”

“No, they're still there,” Dad says. “But some of my crystal specimens are gone. It's not that they're so valuable, mind, but they're valuable to
me
. I collected each and every one of them. Whoever took them tried to cover it up, but I noticed right away.”

Naturally. Trust eagle-eyed Dr. Warren Jakes not to miss a thing.

“I just can't believe it,” Mom says as the salad bowl droops in her hand. “Why, we've used the Bright Ideas Electric Company ever since we moved to Oak Glen. The young man confided to me that this was his first job, too.”

“And it'll be his last, if I have anything to say about it,” Dad says, scowling. “We're going to have to go through the entire house after dinner, Louise, to see if anything else is missing—before we call the police and fill out the report.”

“Oh, no,” my mom says, sinking into her chair. “I can't believe that nice young man did such a thing. Maybe this was a one-time mistake, Warren. Can't we simply call the man's boss and ask that he give the crystals back—and anything else he may have taken?”

“We'll do that as well,” Dad says, sounding stern. “But Oak Glen doesn't need people waltzing into other people's houses and helping themselves to whatever they like. I'm calling the company
and
the police,” he says again.

I feel like I am frozen in my chair as I imagine that I am the electrician who waltzed—I mean walked—into my dad's office yesterday, just trying to do his job. Here is what he could be thinking pretty soon:

1. I studied really hard at Electrician School, and I made it through all the quizzes and tests, even though I got electric shocks, and not the fun kind. I also had to crawl into spiderwebby tunnels and other scary stuff like that.

2. But I finally graduated and was lucky enough to get a good job, and then I went to some nice lady's house to give her an estimate for putting in a new outlet in her husband's office.

3. I liked the lady so much that I even told her this was my first job!

4. Then I got blamed for stealing—even though I never took a thing. And I got fired.

5.
The End.
Of everything.

I
CANNOT
let that happen.

“Wait!” I say to my mom and dad. “Don't call that man's boss. Don't call the police. There's something I have to tell you.”

“Well, what did you
think
was going to happen when I noticed the crystals were gone?” my dad asks after dinner, when we are alone in his office.

I try not to squirm in my chair, but the tiny bit of macaroni and cheese and salad I was able to eat isn't helping any. It is sitting in my stomach like a softball waiting to be pitched. “I didn't get that far,” I finally tell my dad. “I guess I just got carried away with being popular for a change.”

“
Popular
,” Dad scoffs. He shakes his head in wonder—probably at how dumb the word sounds when I say it.

And that makes me mad, because what kid doesn't want to be popular? Not popular like a TV or rap star, but like a person who other kids admire, at least? So I start talking before I lose my nerve. “You're always saying I should make more friends at Oak Glen,” I remind him. “So I just figured—”

“You just figured you'd help yourself to a few of my personal possessions,” Dad interrupts, scowling. “That's stealing, EllRay.”

STEALING?
“No it isn't,” I say, my heart thunking so hard in my chest that it's probably bumping into the mac and cheese and salad. “It's not stealing when you borrow something from your own family, Dad,” I tell him, hoping this is officially true.

“It's not ‘borrowing' when you take something that isn't yours and then give it away,” Dad informs me. “And why is it okay to steal from a family member, son?” he asks. “Should you treat someone in your own family worse than you would a stranger?”

“I—I didn't
mean
to give the crystals away,” I mumble.

“And I wasn't supposed to find out,” Dad says, like he's finishing my sentence for me.

I almost hate my dad right now—because he's making me feel so guilty.

He's probably sorry I'm his son. “There are lots of aquamarines and topazes in the world,” I point out, trying another argument.

“Not ones that I collected when I was in graduate school,” Dad snaps. “Not ones I dug out of the earth with my bare hands. I want those crystals back, son.”

Now, obviously I am my dad's son. But when he
calls
me “son” like that, it usually means trouble. Not always, but usually.

“I know,” I tell him, just for something to say.

“So here's what I'll do,” Dad continues. “I'll either call Ms. Sanchez at home tonight and tell her what happened, so that she can make the announcement in class tomorrow morning asking for the prompt return of all six crystals. Or I can come to school with you and make the announcement myself.”

“You can't do that,” I say, my heart pounding, because—how could I ever live it down? The two friends I have, Kevin and Corey, might never want to talk to me again, I'd look so bad. And so
not honest
.

“I most certainly can,” my dad assures me. “But I take it you choose option number one. I'll call Ms. Sanchez this very minute.” And he reaches for his cell phone.

Okay. Most parents don't have most teachers' home phone numbers, but it's different at Oak Glen, especially when a kid's behavior “
needs improvement
,” which is what Ms. Sanchez wrote on one of my progress reports a few weeks ago.

Ever since then, it's been Communication City around here.

“Don't call her,” I say, jumping to my feet. “Let
me
get the crystals back, Dad. It's my mess, and I should be the one to fix it,” I add, knowing suddenly that this is the argument that might actually work with him.

Dad leans back in his swivel chair until it creaks, and he slowly puts down his cell phone on the desk. “Do you think you can do that?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, even though in real life, there is no way I can succeed. But at least it will postpone what is sure to be the most embarrassing moment in my life in eight whole years.

“Fine, then,” Dad says. “But here's my ultimatum. Do you know what an ultimatum is?” he asks.

“Not exactly,” I admit.

“It's when a person says for the final time that you have to do something, or some consequence will happen,” my dad explains. “So listen up. You'll ask for the crystals back tomorrow, Wednesday. But if those crystals aren't in my possession by Thursday evening, I'm marching into your classroom first thing Friday morning, and I'm laying down the law.”

“But Friday is Valentine's Day, and that's practically a national patriotic holiday,” I remind him, hoping this might buy me another day or two.

Because I do not have a plan for getting back those six crystals.

“Do I look like I care?” Dad asks, obviously not expecting an answer. “I feel certain Ms. Sanchez will back me up on this,” he says, softening his tone of voice a little.

“I'll get the crystals back,” I say, sounding a lot more sure of myself than I am feeling.

“By Thursday afternoon, or I'm coming in on Friday,” Dad reminds me.

“All right,” I agree in a shaky voice. “Even though Friday is a very important holiday.”

“
Valentine's Day
,” my dad says, scoffing once more.

He'd better not let Alfie or my romantic mom hear him say it like that!

But I keep this last thought to myself.

It is Wednesday, and it is raining hard again, so Mom is driving me to school. Alfie sits next to me in the back seat, and she won't stop yapping.

“Suzette says we're gonna have a Valentine's Day party in day care,” she is telling me. “That's in just two more days. Suzette says we're gonna have pink cupcakes. And I'm making Sparky his very own valentine today.”

Suzette Monahan came over for a play date once, and she has to be the bossiest four-year-old kid in the world. She even tried to boss my mom around about the snack they were going to have! Suzette is like Cynthia and Jared
combined
, she's such a pain, but Alfie thinks she's great. When they're not fighting, that is.

And like I said before, Sparky is the day-care hamster.

I think he ought to get a medal, not just a valentine!

“I'm putting a hamster-food heart on the card, so he can eat it,” Alfie says.