Odds on Oliver (2 page)

“My baby, my baby!” Oliver's mom cried in a loud voice. Oliver was so embarrassed, he felt like going through the floor. On the other hand, he'd just been saved from doing exactly that. So he jumped to his feet to prove he was as good as new.

“Hip hip hooray!” the customers shouted in unison.

“Odds on Oliver!” Oliver's dad cried.

Oliver's mom frowned and said, “Are those your good pants?”

“Whew!” said Arthur, wiping his brow in an exaggerated way. “I thought you were a goner.”

“Don't you wish,” said Oliver.

Next morning, a package came to Oliver's house by special delivery. Inside was a super-deluxe fishing rod, the most expensive kind.

Just what Oliver had wanted for ages.

The card said,
Thanks for a lovely evening
.

It was signed
U. Crumm, Town Clerk
.

3

G
ONE
F
ISHING

Oliver and Arthur dropped everything and went fishing. Edna went too. Edna liked to bark at the fish. Sometimes the fish barked back. Those were the dogfish.

“I can't miss with this,” Oliver said, waving his new rod. “Hand me a marshmallow, Arthur.”

“We ate all the marshmallows,” Arthur said. “All we got left is worms.”

“Marshmallows are better bait,” Oliver said.

“This bozo smells,” Arthur said, handing over a worm.

“You'd smell too if you'd croaked as long ago as he did,” Oliver said.

The mosquitoes dive-bombed them, the sun walked across the sky, and the fish were not biting.

“This is getting very boring,” Arthur said.

In the distance, Edna barked. Long and loud.

“Probably she's going for a jackrabbit,” Oliver said. “She likes to chase jackrabbits even if she never catches one.”

“Sort of like you and fishing,” Arthur said.

“Whoa!” Oliver hollered. He had a bite. “Hang on! It's a whopper! It's a monster goon shark. I can see his razor-sharp teeth and his mean yellow eyes.”

“Sounds like a tiger shark to me,” Arthur said. “I read a book about tiger sharks. They eat people.”

“Get the net!” Oliver shouted.

“Where is it?” Arthur said.

“I don't know! He's getting away! Get the net, Arthur!”

“It's not here,” Arthur said. “Somebody must have stolen it.”

“Come hold the line!” Oliver yelled. “I'll find it.”

By the time Oliver found the net under a nearby willow tree and raced back, Arthur was floundering in the water.

“Help! Help!” Arthur cried.

Arthur didn't like to get his face wet. He hated to put his face underwater, so he'd only learned how to dog-paddle.

“Are you drowning, Arthur?” Oliver called. He shucked off his black hightops, which luckily were untied, and stripped down to his black-and-white polka-dot boxer shorts. Then he plunged in to rescue his friend. He did a fast crawl toward Arthur.

“Glub, glub,” Arthur said. He did
not
sound good.

“Hang on!” Oliver cried. “I'm coming!”

Just as Oliver reached Arthur, Arthur stood up and said, “Chill out, dude, I can touch bottom. It's not as deep as I thought.”

“Where's the shark?” Oliver said.

“He got away.”

“That's the last time I try to rescue
you,
” Oliver said disgustedly, heading for shore. “Next time you can just sink. See if I care.”

“Can I help it if I didn't drown?” Arthur said.

Edna watched, grinning.

“What's so funny?” Oliver said to her.

Edna's mouth turned up at the corners even more. Oliver thought he heard her say
ha ha
but he couldn't be sure.

“Go soak your head,” Oliver said to both of them.

“I already did,” said Arthur.

4

S
TICKUP

The next day, Oliver's mom sent him to the store to buy a half-gallon of fat-free milk. When he took the milk to the express checkout, a woman in front of him was already unloading her cart.

“It says ten items only,” Oliver said, pointing to the sign. “She's got about fifty-two items.”

The checkout girl and the woman in front of him acted as if they hadn't heard. As her groceries were rung up, the woman packed them herself, and speedily too, putting the eggs on top so they wouldn't break. Oliver figured she'd probably been a checkout girl herself once and knew the ropes.

“There you go, Aunt Lucy,” the checkout girl said, glaring at Oliver. Aunt Lucy handed over some money and wheeled her laden cart away at a fast trot.

A man behind Oliver said in a loud voice, “The world's full of chiselers, sonny.”

“You want plastic or paper?” the girl said, ringing up the milk.

The man stumbled and lurched against Oliver. It was his first stickup and he wasn't too good a stickup man.

“I don't need a bag,” Oliver said. “I'll take it like it is.”

“This here is a stickup,” the man said. “Don't nobody move.”

Oliver pocketed the change.

“I got a gun,” the man said.

A long arm swooped around and circled Oliver's neck.

Oliver was so surprised, he didn't struggle or cry out.

The man thrust a battered canvas bag across the counter and said, “Fill 'er up, girlie,” like a person at a gas station. “And don't bother me with the small stuff. I want tens and twenties. I got no time for ones.”

“You're choking me,” Oliver managed to say.

“One false move and the kid gets it,” the man said.

The checkout girl gave a little squawk, like a scared chicken.

“Awkk,”
she said.

“Don't give me no lip,” the man said. “I got a gun, don't forget.”

Oliver wondered if it might somehow be April Fools' Day, even though as far as he knew it was still June. The light coming in the store window was blinding, so bright it was giving him a headache. He saw a mail truck drive by outside, heard loud teenage music blaring. The man's jacket smelled of rotting fruit. Bananas, mostly.

Oliver opened his mouth to shout “Help!” but nothing came out.

“I'm closed for the day,” the girl said, putting out her
CLOSED
sign.

“Don't give me any of that,” the man said. “I've had a tough day.”

You've
had a tough day, Oliver thought.

“The cash, girlie, the cash,” the man said.

The girl fumbled with the cash drawer.

“It's stuck,” she said.

The man's arm tightened around Oliver's neck. “Get it open fast, or else I might have to blow the kid's brains out,” he said.

Oliver considered throwing up. It is a well-known fact that people don't like to hang on to a person who is throwing up.

“It's jammed.” The girl poked at the drawer. “Maybe if you …”

The man loosened his grip on Oliver and leaned over the counter to give the cash register a few pokes. It stayed closed.

“Here's where it's sticking,” the girl said. “Try again.”

The man leaned even closer to get a good look, and the checkout girl grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him. Oliver thought he heard something snap. The man howled and let go of Oliver completely.

“Register five!” the checkout girl hollered. “Attempted robbery!”

“Ooowww!”
the man howled.

A sudden flurry of activity took place. The store manager and the butcher came running. The butcher wore a dirty white apron and the store manager wore a very nervous expression.

“Good work, Lila,” the manager said when the butcher had subdued the robber and led him away. Oliver wondered if the butcher was going to lock the robber in the meat freezer until the cops came.

“Fast thinking,” the manager went on. “I'll see you get a commendation from the top brass for this.”

“I'd rather have a week off with pay,” said Lila.

“How'd you do it?” asked the manager.

“I got my brown belt in karate last week,” Lila said.

The manager noticed Oliver for the first time. “Here, son,” he said, scooping up a handful of Milky Ways and Snickers bars from the display shelf. He stuffed them into Oliver's hands.

“He was gonna blow the kid's brains out,” Lila remarked.

When Oliver got home his mother asked, “Where's the milk?”

“I musta left it on the counter,” Oliver said.

“Good thing your head is fastened on tight or you'd forget that too,” Oliver's mom said.

Oliver went into the bathroom and locked the door. He blew on the mirror and wrote his name in the foggy circle his breath made.

Oliver was here
, he wrote. You blew it, he thought sadly. You blew it.

At
this
rate he'd never make hero, he realized.

He unlocked the bathroom door and went back to the kitchen.

His mom was on the telephone. When she hung up, he said, “Mom, can I take karate lessons?”

“We'll see,” his mother said.

Which probably meant no, Oliver thought glumly.

5

U
P A
T
REE

“The guy was really weird,” Oliver said. “So he gets me by my neck and he goes like this …” Oliver demonstrated, using Arthur's neck.

“Quit it,” Arthur said. “That hurts.”

“Then the checkout girl twists his arm and I think she broke it,” Oliver went on. “I even heard it snap. She's got this brown belt in karate. She was a hero. The guy was going to blow my brains out.”

“Maybe you could sell this to the movies,” Arthur said. “Then they'd make it into a sitcom and you'd be rich and famous.”

“A stretch limo with two gold telephones wouldn't be bad,” Oliver said dreamily.

“Listen, Ol, I wrote a short story,” Arthur said. “Beany Allen says Ms. Carbery makes you write a short story in fifth grade, so I'm getting a head start. Listen.”

“Hold it,” Oliver said. “I'm tired. I almost got my brains blown out today. I don't want to hear your dumb short story.”

Arthur pulled a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. Then he cleared his throat and read: “‘It was a dark and stormy night.'”

“You stole that from Snoopy,” Oliver said. “Snoopy always starts his stories like that.”

“So? Snoopy's only a dog,” Arthur said.

“Better not let Edna hear you say that,” Oliver said. “She'd take your arm off.”

“I need help, Ol. I'm stuck. I got writer's block,” Arthur said. “Think of something to go after ‘night.'”

Oliver thought. “How about ‘The space ship burst open and a tribe of monster mutant aliens oozing purple slime came out.'”

“Excellent, excellent,” Arthur said, writing furiously. “Keep going, Ol.”

“Well, the tribe of aliens decides to set fire to the school,” Oliver said slowly.

“Neato,” said Arthur.

“So they set fire to the school by rubbing their fingernails together,” Oliver went on. “Get it? Instead of rubbing two sticks together or using matches, they rub their fingernails together on account of their fingernails are like matches.”

“I read in a book that if you bite your fingernails and swallow them,” Arthur said, “a hand will grow inside your stomach.”

“Try it,” Oliver said.

“What do I want a hand inside my stomach for?” Arthur replied.

“So when the doc opens you up to take out your appendix, he freaks. He sees that ol' hand sitting there and he runs screaming out of the hospital and he's never seen or heard from again,” Oliver said.

“My appendix is already out,” Arthur said.

“Oliver!” Oliver's mom called. “Mrs. Murphy's on the phone. She says Edna chased Charlie up a tree again. Better get over there and get Charlie down before Mr. Murphy gets home.”

Mr. Murphy got sore when Edna chased Charlie up a tree. Besides, it was the third time this week.

“Creepola Charlie,” Oliver grumbled. “Why can't that cat get down on his own? He got up, he can get down.”

“Edna's definitely out of line,” Arthur said. “She has no business chasing Charlie up a tree.”

“That's what dogs are supposed to do, chase cats up trees,” Oliver said. “It's the law of nature.”

Oliver went to the kichen, grabbed a can of tuna fish from the cupboard, and walked to the Murphys' house. Arthur split. He hated the smell of tuna fish.

“Oh, Oliver, I'm glad to see you!” said Mrs. Murphy. “Do something! Mr. Murphy said once more and he's had it! Not to mention Edna.”

Oliver put the tuna fish can under the tree. “This oughta do it,” he said.

They waited. No Charlie. Edna lay down and put her head between her paws, pretending she was thinking.

“Guess I'll have to go up and bring him down,” said Oliver, puffing out his chest. This was his big chance, he thought excitedly. Today was hero day.

“Oh, Oliver, can you?” Mrs. Murphy said. “He's way up at the top. I don't want you to hurt yourself.”

“Piece of cake,” Oliver said heroically. He went up the tree like a pro, swinging from branch to branch, yodeling like Tarzan calling the apes.

The tree seemed to grow even as Oliver climbed. This was some tall tree, all right.

There was Charlie, licking his leg, taking things easy.

“Hey, creepola,” Oliver said, and he stretched out a hand to grab Charlie. Charlie hissed and raked an open claw across Oliver's hand, drawing blood.

“Yow!” Oliver yelled.

Charlie streaked past, on his way down, under his own steam. Brave as a lion, Charlie was.

The branch Oliver was standing on gave way. Oliver grabbed another branch with his good hand and hung in space, swinging in the wind, sucking his own blood.