The Zippy Fix (8 page)

“Heyy,” somebody said. “Coco-dork… what’s in the bags?”

I turned to look.

Aw, man.

Tito Sinbad Andrade strolled up, smiling, almost like he was a nice guy. His hair hung in his eyes, making him look mysterious. But the only mystery you had to think about was if he was going to rob you or the guy next to you.

Tito pointed with his chin. “The bags,
Coco-my-man,” he said with a wink. “What’s in them?”

Frankie Diamond was with him. He stood behind Tito with his arms crossed. And behind Frankie was a guy named Bozo, who was just plain weird. They were sixth graders at our school, Kailua Elementary.

Frankie Diamond studied me, a half grin lifting one side of his mouth. Unlike Tito and Bozo, Frankie’s T-shirt was clean, and his hair was slicked and shiny black. Around his neck, a silver chain glinted in the sun.

Tito stepped closer and peeked into one of the bags. “Ah,” he said.

Bozo’s eyes darted around like flies. “What they got, Tito? What they got?”

“Cans.”

Bozo snorted. “Cans?”

Tito put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me close. “Listen … Coconut.” He spoke pleasantly, softly. “I was coming here to buy me a big bag of sunflower seeds, but you know
what? I’m sad, because … well, I no more nuff money … you see?”

Tito made an unhappy face. He opened his hands and looked down. “I need fifty cents more.”

He shook his head. So sad. With Tito, the smartest thing you can do is keep your mouth shut.

Tito snapped his fingers. “I got an idea! You can borrow me the fifty cents. Yeah! You can be my bank. Then I can get me that bag of sunflower seeds. How’s about that… Coco-bank?”

Willy was as quiet as an ant.

Coming up behind me I heard
boooom… boooom … boooom
.

Coming closer.

I turned as a car pulled in and parked.

A pink car.

I’m saved!

15

“T
he booming radio went off.

“Ho,” Tito said. “Check out that car! Sweet!”

Clarence got out. He towered over all of us.

When he glanced my way, I tipped my head toward Tito, hoping Clarence remembered
me and would catch my silent message: He’s robbing me!

Clarence raised an eyebrow and went into the store.

Dang.

Tito cocked his head. “You know him?”

“Kind of. And I’m not a bank.”

“Sure you are,” Tito said, forgetting about Clarence. “Look in those bags. You’re rich.” He tapped his chin with his finger. “Let’s see, fifty cents would be … how many cans, Bozo?”

“Uh …” Bozo’s lips moved as he counted on his fingers.

“Ten,” Frankie Diamond said.

Tito grinned at me. “Frankie’s good at math … so, how’s about you borrow me ten of those cans, Coco-buddy? You got more than you need, ah?”

“I need them all, for a birthday pres—uh, I mean … I need them for … for …”

“A birfday present?” Tito grinned. “You
kidding, right? You don’t give cans for a present.”

“I just need them, that’s all. I can’t give you any.”

“Thanks,” Tito said, smiling big. He tapped my shoulder and snapped one of the bags out of my hand. “It’s good to have friends like you.”

I watched as Tito stole ten cans. When he was done, he looked up, surprised. “Ho! Had seventeen cans in this bag. That means you get to keep seven. Maybe your name is Coco-lucky.”

Tito handed me the half-empty bag, winked, and headed into the store. “Have a nice day.”

Bozo bumped me with his shoulder as he passed. “You should take them all, Tito. This punk don’t need it.”

“Be nice, Bozo. I’m a generous person.”

Clarence passed them, coming out with a bag of sunflower seeds of his own. I wondered
if he was taking them to Stella. He got in his car, started it up, and rumbled slowly away.

“Hoo-ie,” Tito whispered, turning to watch him go. “I love that pink and black car.”

Bozo tapped Tito’s shoulder. “Man, you are good, Tito. You could sell ice cubes to camels.”

“What?”

Bozo stopped to think. “No wait, you could sell ice cubes to … to …”

Frankie Diamond shoved Bozo through the door. “Eskimos, Bozo, Eskimos.”

I felt sick. I’d just been robbed. It wasn’t right.

Willy put his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find more.”

We waited in the parking lot until Tito, Bozo, and Frankie Diamond came out and headed toward the beach.
They didn’t even look at us. As far as they were concerned, we didn’t exist.

I elbowed Willy. “Let’s go cash these cans in before they come back.”

We came out $2.35 richer. But we should have been $2.85 richer.

We sat in the shade at an outdoor table on the side of the store. “How much you have now?” Willy asked. “I mean if you add it to your money and my quarters?”

I grabbed a greasy paper plate out of a trash can and went into the store to borrow a pencil. I scratched it out. “Four dollars and sixty-six cents.”

Willy brushed a fly off the table. “Someday somebody’s going to rob Tito. When they do, I want to be there to see it.”

“Me too.”

Four small doves hopped around on the table next to us, hoping we might toss them some crumbs.

I slapped the table and stood. The birds
took off. “Just because I got robbed doesn’t mean I’m giving up.”

Willy followed me out into the sun.

“Where we going now?”

“Make more money.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, but I know who to ask.”

“Who?”

“Uncle Scoop.”

16

U
ncle Scoop’s Lucky Lunch truck was parked under an ironwood tree facing the beach. Behind it families with squirmy babies and wild kids sat on blankets on the grass. Hamburgers and teriyaki sticks sizzled on small hibachis, and across the way, the ocean sparkled in the sun.

Uncle Scoop saw us coming. “Heyyy, how you kids doing?”

“Good, Uncle Scoop.”

“I bet you came to cash in those coupons, right?” Uncle Scoop had given free shave ice coupons to me, Julio, and Willy after we got into trouble at school. But that’s another story.

“I gave mine to my sister,” I said.

Willy shook his head. “Mine’s at home.”

Uncle Scoop laughed. “I give you anyway. What you like? Red? Orange? Blue?”

“Thanks, Uncle Scoop,” I said. “But do you know how I can make some money? I mean, by working … or something?”

“Money, huh? Well, let’s see.”

Uncle Scoop rubbed his chin. “You could ask your neighbors if you could mow their lawn.”

“Yeah, but… I have to make it quick. Like, today, and anyway, our lawn mower won’t start.”

“Hmm, let’s see.” He crossed his arms, thinking. “I tell you what. Going be a big rush
soon … lunchtime … all those starving swimmers who forgot to bring their lunches will be coming over here any minute now, and I might need some help. You two ever make a shave ice?”

I looked at Willy, who shrugged.

“Guess not,” I said.

“Never mind.” Uncle Scoop waved us toward the back of the truck. “It’s easy. Come inside. I show you.”

“You mean I can work, too?” Willy asked.

“Sure. I need good men in here.”

Willy flexed his muscles.

Uncle Scoop chuckled and handed me and Willy thin vinyl gloves, then turned on the ice machine. Within minutes, we were experts. “This is easy,” I said, pouring strawberry syrup over a cone that Willy had just packed with ice.

A few minutes later
Uncle Scoop nodded toward the beach. “Here they come.”

Hunger drove starving swimmers up from the beach like carpenter ants. In minutes we had our hands full. Uncle Scoop cooked up hamburgers, hot dogs, and plate lunches. Willy and I packed one shave ice after another—red, yellow, green, orange, blue, purple, and three-color rainbows.