Authors: Mavis Jukes
“Well, I recently spoke a second language,” said Wes. “I spoke Igpay Atinlay with my grandma. Fork over your card, buddy. I’ll sign the ‘Spoke a second language’ box.”
“Actually, I don’t think Pig Latin would qualify,” Carson told him.
But Wes grabbed Carson’s card out of his hand. “Then how about the ‘Took a class at the community center’ box?”
Cody snatched it from Wes and handed it to Carson. He growled at Wes, “Get a clue, dude. He doesn’t want you to sign in any of his boxes! And neither do I!”
Chloe and Zoe hurried over. “But we dooooo! You took a class at the community center?” said Chloe. “What kind of class?”
“Want to trade sweatshirts with me?” Wes asked Chloe.
“
Me
trade sweatshirts with
you
?” said Chloe. “Are
you size S? No, you’re not.” She began snapping her fingers. “Come on, come on. What kind of community class, Wes?”
“I asked for the acorn logo. But no, no. Mrs. Sweetow wouldn’t give it to me. Even when I explained that squirrels give me the willies.”
“Too bad. Next time don’t smash up her wheel. And don’t change the subject. What community class did you take?” Chloe asked.
Wes looked at the ceiling. “Well, what I took was … um.”
Cody asked, “So exactly what kind of whopper is the King of Whopperland dishing up now?”
Zoe said, “Shhhh! Don’t interrupt his train of thought. He’s trying to remember a community class he took.”
“You mean, trying to
make up
a community class he took?” Cody asked.
“It was a community sewing class!” said Wes. “It was a class called … um … Anyway, I sewed a denim tote bag. I did! With a cat on the front with one eye winking. With a rhinestone inside its eyeball.”
Cody looked at Chloe and Zoe and raised his palms in the air. “How does he come up with this stuff?”
He walked away, muttering to himself.
Zoe asked Wes, “So, Wessie. How exactly do you get a rhinestone inside a cat eye on a piece of cloth?”
At first, Wes didn’t answer. Then he said, “Well … there’s little sharp prongs and you push ’em through the denim and put in the rhinestone and squash it down with a silver tool. But I didn’t wait my turn for the tool. I pushed it by hand and poked my finger. I still have a scar.”
“Let’s see it,” said Zoe.
“Yeah, show us da boo-boo,” said Chloe.
Wes held his finger up. “It healed.”
Chloe smiled a crooked little smile. “That was quick.”
They gave their cards to Wes, and Wes signed them both in the “Took a class at the community center” box.
Zoe and Chloe high-fived each other and walked away, laughing.
Carson kept his distance from Wes.
He collected signatures for “Read a novel,” “Played the piano,” “Went bowling,” and many others.
No one in the class said they had gone fishing, not even Weston.
Carson signed a lot of “Ate anchovy pizza” boxes. His was a sought-after signature because nobody liked little salty fish bits on their pizza, but Carson loved ’em!
He strolled around the room, stopping to peer into the June Box. “Don’t tell anybody, but that there is actually my brother Joey’s yo-yo,” whispered Chloe. “I brought it to school, and Zoe gave it to Parks Johnson to play with during Math Switcheroo, and he got it taken away! Poor little yo-yo.”
She looked sideways at Zoe.
“You told me to let Parks play with it,” Zoe reminded her.
“I know, but you shouldn’t have listened.”
Chloe turned to Carson: “Joey keeps asking me if I’ve seen it!”
Zoe giggled into her hand. “The kid doesn’t even know his yo-yo’s trapped in the June Box.”
“It’s not funny,” Chloe told her.
“Yes it is!” said Zoe. “Mr. Lipman is clueless! He thinks it’s Parks’s yo-yo! Parks is just going along with it, and pretending the yo-yo is his, because Chloe doesn’t want Mr. Lipman to know she brought it to
school and I don’t want him to know I loaned it to Parks. And Parks couldn’t care less whether Chloe’s brother Joey’s yo-yo is in the June Box till June!”
Zoe patted the top of Chloe’s head. “Don’t worry, Chloe, Joey will get it back … eventually. We’ll see to that.”
Wes wandered over. “That fish sings—press its head.”
Zoe whispered, “Enter: Whopperman!”
Carson stepped back.
Wes said, “Press it! I’m serious, it sings!”
“By the way,” Wes told Zoe. “I know more yo-yo tricks than Parks, in case you didn’t know.”
Zoe glanced at Mr. Lipman. He was standing with his back to them. “Let’s see some!” she whispered.
“Yeah!” whispered Chloe.
Carson hurried away and sat down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some commotion by the June Box.
Mr. Lipman rang the chimes. “Time’s up. So for now, it’s ciao, farewell, good day, sayonara, adieu, adios, au revoir, auf Wiedersehen, and good-bye to Hello Bingo.”
Then he held up his Quiet Coyote Hand—his middle two fingers against his thumb, and his pinkie and pointing finger sticking straight up, like coyote ears.
He rotated his hand, as if it was a coyote surveying the class. Then he wiggled the ears in Wes’s direction because Wes was talking.
A few kids put up a Quiet Coyote Hand.
Not many, because that was a first-grader sign.
Wes put up two Quiet Coyote Hands, held them nose to nose, and made snarling noises. He attacked one hand with the other.
“Wes?”
Wes yipped and howled.
Then was quiet.
Mr. Lipman put a check by
Weston Walker
on the whiteboard and tapped on the schedule.
QUICK WRITE: Write a friendly thank-you letter to someone. Heading, date, greeting, body, closing, and signature
.
“We’re focusing on the form. Don’t forget those commas!”
A short time later, Mr. Lipman said, “Okay. Volunteers?”
Zach raised his hand. He read: “Dear Hat, Thank you for making me look like a hunk. From, Zach.”
Mr. Lipman frowned. “Try again, Zachary. Show some appreciation for a person who has done something special for you. Also, you forgot the heading and the date.”
Carson wrote the heading and the date and then:
Dear Dr. Tichenal
,
Thank you for saving Genevieve’s life when she was a puppy. We are all doing well up here in El Cerrito. We haven’t met the new vet yet. But thanks for the referral
.
I am just about nine now, and so of course I have outgrown stuffed animals. However, I appreciate how you handled the situation with Moose when I was a little kid. The stitches held up well. I still have your business card. You inspired me to go into veterinary medicine
.
From,
Carson Blum
• • •
When Carson got home, he located the business card in his small treasure box and addressed the envelope to Dr. Tichenal.
He showed the letter to his dad. “Good letter, son.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Carson, his dad, and Genevieve walked to the mailbox on the corner, and Carson dropped the letter into the slot.
Then he took a folded paper out of his back pocket. “This one’s for you.”
Carson’s dad read it:
Dear Dad
,
Thank you for everything you do for me. Thank you for arranging your schedule so you can drop me off and pick me up from school. I look forward to seeing you every afternoon. Let’s celebrate your new job and our first two successful weeks in El Cerrito by going to Buster’s Barbecue
.
I love you, Dad
.
From,
Carson
Buster’s Barbecue may not have been the best place to do homework, but Carson brought it along anyway and worked on it on a picnic table covered with a checkered plastic tablecloth in the outdoor eating area.
Besides wanting to celebrate a new job and two weeks in El Cerrito together, Carson’s dad wanted to check out his competition: he was pretty sure he was the best barbecuer in town, but you never know. He’d read a lot of great reviews about Buster’s.
They both ordered the tri-tip dinner with two sides.
Carson’s dad chewed thoughtfully. “Not bad …
maybe we should come here to Buster’s after the birthday trail ride.”
Carson whispered, “Nah! You got this guy beat, Dad. Let’s you barbecue, at home after the trail ride! Here’s to getting through the first two weeks!” Carson added cheerily.
They toasted each other with bottled water and iced tea.
Keeping smears and smudges of barbecue sauce off his homework was proving to be a bigger challenge than Carson expected. Plus, he got a huge splatter of sauce on his sleeve.
“No worries. I’ll wash it and toss it into the dryer.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Carson’s dad showed him how to draw pictures to help with word problems. “And don’t forget the labels, like minutes or pickles or whatever,” his dad reminded him.
“Okay. There’s potato salad on your ear, Dad.”
Carson closed his math book.
Next. Language-arts homework. Paragraphs. Again. Choose a topic sentence from a list and write a paragraph. The list included “Soccer is a great game,”
“Hiking is a great sport,” “A dog makes a great pet,” and “Or choose your own topic sentence.”
With the goal of becoming Deputy Pet Care Giver in mind, Carson wrote his topic sentence:
Rats are remarkable
.
Next he wrote:
Rats are playful. They really know how to have fun, and their toys are inexpensive. A toy can be as simple as a paper-towel roll, if the rat is able to squeeze in. Rats have life skills. They’re brave and loyal. They’re protective of their owners. A rat has been known to bite a robber’s nose and chase it out of a house. Rats are intelligent. They can be taught tricks, like how to come when called. Rats are frisky. They like to exercise. They also like to hang out in roomy, clean cages, with fresh water and an assortment of fresh fruits and vegetables, not just rat blocks
.
The next best thing to being an outdoor rat is being a very loved indoor rat with a Free-Range Roaming Rat Arena. Rats freak some people out, but others find them attractive animals
.
Whew!
Done.
Carson’s dad was looking over and reading Carson’s paragraph as he wrote it.
“Protective? Well, that’s quite a claim.… Bit a robber’s nose? What evidence do you have to back that up?”
“A sworn statement from Weston Walker.”
“Ah.”
Carson’s dad poked into his small plastic container of ranch beans. “So we’ll take that with a grain of salt, as they say.…”
“I thought you didn’t like ranch anything, Dad.”
“Ranch beans are the rare exception to my ranch rule.” He ate a few bites. One bean fell on his collar and rolled down into his shirt. “I’ll shake it out later. So rats can come when called? Who told you that? Wes again?”
“Nope. I saw with my own eyes.”
“You called him?”
“Patrick did.”
“And he came running? Remarkable. Hmmm.” He took a big gulp of iced tea and looked sideways at Carson.
“Well, he doesn’t really run right
straight to you
, Dad, but he comes eventually. Anyway, on to alliteration!”
Carson wrote:
Raquelle the raucous raccoon really ran like a rocket
.
“Next I’ll work on my extra-credit alliteration and onomatopoeia Whiz Quiz poem. I’m goin’ for ten Bonus Bucks and a chance at the Bonus Bucks Wheel of Fortune! And maybe win a No-Homework Pass. Wahoo!”
“Eight years of university training and I have to be honest: I forget! What
is
onomatopoeia?”
“Don’t ask me!”
Carson and his dad bused their own dishes. His dad quietly and politely burped into his fist near the recycling can and then tipped his Porsche cap good-bye to Buster. They headed to the car.
“There’s a napkin stuck to your shoe, Dad.”
“Right.”
At home, Carson’s dad looked up “onomatopoeia” in his big Webster’s dictionary. “Oh, it’s a word like ‘buzz.’ Or ‘click.’ Or ‘zoom.’ Like: When I clicked my camera at a buzzing bumblebee, it zoomed after me. And I plopped in the muck.”
Carson smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t get hurt, Dad.
Does a blob of goopy chocolate yogurt plopped into a waffle cone at the International Yogurt Depot sound good to you?”
“I have no idea how one small yogurt shop on the corner claims to be an ‘international’ yogurt depot, but let’s go.”
When they arrived back home, Genevieve was lying with her nose between her paws and a scrap of torn paper stuck to her nostrils with
21,783 + 72,634
written on it. She thumped her tail. She rolled her eyes to the side.
“It was my fault, Dad,” Carson quietly said. “It had barbecue sauce on it. Can one page of math problems hurt her?”
“Nah.”
“Just making sure.”
“Remember the antler incident, Dad?”
“How could I forget that.”
Bedtime, nine o’clock, was quickly approaching. Carson started his math homework all over again.
He thought of Ms. Parker and called out: “Is ‘beeping’ an onomatopoeia?”
“Yes.”
“Is ‘buzzing’?”
“Yes.”
Carson painstakingly redid his math problems and then worked for a few minutes on his Whiz Quiz poem.
In the morning, he made his bed and sat Moose on top of the dresser, next to the cockeyed pencil jar Carson’s dad had made in a college ceramics class. Moose enjoyed sitting there and looking across the room at the wallpaper.
It was a pretty morning, with sunshine coming through the blinds and making a pattern of bright yellow lines on the wall.
“Want to try to guess the animal in my Whiz Quiz poem?” Carson asked his dad during breakfast. “I’m trying to make it really tricky. I really want to trick my class. And Mr. Lipman! Ready?”
“Shoot.”
“Face round as a balloon.”
“Panda.”
“No.”
“Skunk?”
“A skunk has a pointy face, Dad.”
“Not all do. Remember when you were a skunk for Halloween? Grandma made that costume. You were a short skunk with a round face and a big, fat, fluffy black and white tail.”