The Zippy Fix Read online

So I did something about it.

  6

  Think Twice

  It was hot and muggy that morning. No breeze. The ironwood trees across the street were completely still.

  I went over to Julio’s house, thinking maybe we’d grab Willy and go to the beach or something. It was Friday, but it was a Teachers’ Day, so we had it off, even Stella.

  I knocked on Julio’s door.

  As I waited for someone to answer I glanced down the street and saw Zippy wander out of Maya’s garage. He stopped and looked toward me, as if to say, Hey.

  I watched as he lumbered into the street for another hard day of trying to get murdered by a car.

  I shook my head.

  “S’up?” Julio yawned and swung the screen door open.

  “He’s out there again.” I turned toward Zippy.

  Julio humphed. “Still black, too.”

  “Yeah. Hey, you want to do something?”

  “Sure. What?”

  An idea was brewing. “You know how I picked Zippy up a couple days ago? And you know Stella and how I told you she’s allergic to cats? Well, listen to this: yesterday she sneezed a lot and I think it’s because of I had Zippy all over me. Her eyes got puffy, too. I mean, how else would they get puffy?”

  “Somebody punched her out?”

  “No, seriously, Julio. Cats make her sneeze.”

  Julio yawned. “This is so exciting I can’t stand it, Calvin.”

  I bit my thumbnail. “Come out. I have an idea.”

  Julio let the screen door slap behind him as we headed down the street. Zippy looked up, blinking in the sun.

  Julio snorted. “You should be called Sleepy, not Zippy.”

  I squatted. “How’s it going, Fats?”

  Zippy closed his eyes and stretched out his neck when I scratched under his chin.

  I glanced over my shoulder. No one watching from Maya’s front window. Nobody on the street.

  Julio turned, too. “What you looking at?”

  “I need to borrow Zippy.”

  “For what?”

  “Sneezes.” I slipped my hands under Zippy’s belly and lifted. “Man, are you sure you didn’t swallow a bowling ball?”

  Zippy purred.

  I whispered in his ear. “Got a job for you.”

  Julio shook his head and followed me to my house.

  Mom, Darci, and Stella had gone shopping on the other side of the island. Mom was on a mission to find just the right necklace for Stella to wear with her new watermelon dress. I guess Mom didn’t have one she could borrow in her jewelry box.

  “What are we doing? Julio asked.

  “Making Stella sneeze.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she calls me names.” He didn’t need to know what names, and I sure wasn’t going to tell him. Anyway, I was going to fix this name-calling stuff right now, and Zippy was my fixer.

  “You mean like Stump?”

  “Shuddup, Julio!”

  Julio cracked up.

  I carried Zippy to Stella’s bedroom door. It was closed. There was a sign on it: THINK

  TWICE.

  I inched the door open.

  7

  Danger Zone

  “Stella?”

  Julio jumped back. “She’s home?”

  “No, but with her you can’t be too careful.”

  The bed was made. There were no piles of clothes on the floor. Books stood perfectly straight on either side of her radio/CD player.

  On the wall above her bed was a new poster. Some guy with messy hair and a trumpet. Stella had drawn small hearts around his head with a red marker. The guy’s name was in big letters: Chris Botti.

  Julio pointed at a picture on her desk. “Who’s this?”

  From a silver frame, Stella’s mom glowed like a movie star in an autographed black-and-white photo. To Stella. Love, Twyla.

  Julio picked it up. “Twyla?”

  “Her mom.”

  “Why’d she sign it Twyla? Why not Mom?”

  I shrugged and set Zippy on the floor. “Her mom used to be an actress or something.”

  Julio snorted. “She looks like somebody in a magazine, not a mom.”

  “Maybe that’s why she signed it Twyla.”

  Zippy sniffed the air and strutted over to the closet. A fat roach scurried out. Zippy shrank back and headed for the bed.

  “You don’t like those things, either, huh?”

  The roach ran back into the closet. I figured he was relieved Zippy didn’t mistake him for a snack. I’d have to come back and catch him for Manly Stanley.

  Zippy leaped up onto Stella’s bed and settled down on her pillow. “Sure beats the road, doesn’t it, Zipster?”

  Zippy blinked.

  “That might make her sneeze, all right,” Julio said. “If she’s allergic to cats.”

  “She is.”

  I felt a tiny pinch of guilt. Being in Stella’s room with a cat was not only wrong, it was dangerous. If Stella caught me she’d smash me like a spider.

  But she’d called me Stump! A million times. Anyway, a couple of sneezes was no big deal.

  “Knock yourself out, Zip.”

  Me and Julio went into the kitchen for a snack.

  When we came back, Zippy was snoring.

  A soft, crunchy noise outside made me jump. It sounded like somebody creeping up to the window.

  My heart nearly stopped.

  Julio crouched and whispered, “What was that?”

  It could have been anything. Somebody’s dog nosing around the yard, a mongoose, a sudden breeze.

  It could have been Stella, too. We had to get out of there.

  I hefted Zippy off Stella’s pillow. “Vacation’s over, Fats.”

  Outside, I shooed him into the bushes. “Go find a mouse on your way home.”

  The guilt I’d felt in Stella’s room was fading fast. And justice had been served.

  I clapped Julio on the back. “I feel good.”

  “For sure, Calvin. You are one strange bazooks.”

  8

  Crummy All Over

  Julio and I wove through the trees, past our fort, and out onto the golf course. There was nothing going on, no golfers, and no jeep guys, who lived to run kids like us off the fairways.

  So we went down to the river and threw rocks at fish.

  After that, we searched for golf balls in the swamp grass, where bad golfers tried to hit over the water.

  “Gotta go,” Julio finally said. “All this excitement is wearing me out.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  When I got home, Mom and Darci were in the kitchen.

  “There you are,” Mom said. “What’ve you been up to?”

  “Not much. Robbed a few stores, couple of banks.”

  “That’s good. Darci, why don’t you show Calvin what we got him.”

  “You got me something?”

  “Stella picked it out.”

  “Stella? You’re kidding.”

  Darci pulled a book out of a bag and handed it to me.

  Mom tapped it with her finger. “You need to read more, Cal. I asked Stella to find you something that would hold your interest.”

  I studied the book.

  Hatchet.

  Cool title. It had a good cover.

  “Stella read this in fifth grade and couldn’t put it down. She thought you’d like it, too.”

  “She did?”

  “Ask her yourself, except right now she’s taking a nap. She has a date tonight.”

  “Clarence,” Darci added.

  Oh yeah, pink-car guy.

  “Just wait till you see her all done up, Cal. She’s gorgeous.”

  An hour before Clarence came to pick her up, Stella stumbled out of her room. Her eyes were like giant pink marshmallows with slits in them. Her face was splattered with red blotches. Her voice was dry and raspy. She looked like she’d just staggered out of Death Valley.

  “Oh, no!” Mom gasped. “Stella, what happened?�
�

  I gaped.

  “Aller … gic … something …”

  Tears squirted out of the slits.

  I stopped breathing. Darci hid behind Mom.

  “What was it?” Mom asked.

  “Cat… I’m only … allergic … to cats.”

  Stella started sobbing. Mom put her arm around her and led her to the couch. “I’ll call a doctor.”

  Stella shook her head. “No, please … it will go … away.”

  “But your date,” Mom said.

  I gulped.

  Stella bolted up and ran to her room.

  “That is just so sad,” Mom said.

  Darci looked scared. “Will Stella be all right, Mom?”

  “Of course she will, sweetie … eventually. I wonder what she …”

  Mom turned to me. “There couldn’t have been any cats in this house, right, Cal?”

  I shrugged. I couldn’t speak. I felt like I’d just swallowed a fish hook and Mom was reeling me in.

  At seven, Clarence came down the street for Stella.

  Boooom… boooom… boooom.

  Mom had wanted to call him and explain what had happened, but she didn’t know his number, and Stella wasn’t talking to anyone.

  The booming radio went off. Seconds later Clarence was filling every inch of our screen door.

  “Oh, dear,” Mom said.

  Darci and I followed her to the door, where we got our first real look at Clarence.

  Ho, man!

  He had wild Samoan hair and a line of tattoos on his dark, muscular neck. His sky blue silk shirt fell down over perfectly creased tan pants that bunched over brown leather shoes. A white ginger lei hung from his huge hand.

  “I’m Clarence,” he said. “Stella home?”

  I winced.

  “I’m so sorry, Clarence,” Mom said. “Stella came down with something and … she can’t go out tonight. She feels terrible about it.”

  Clarence glanced at Darci and me, peeking around Mom. Was it my imagination, or did he look at me longer? Could he know what I did to Stella? No … impossible.

  But could he?

  I shrank back.

  Clarence turned back to Mom. “Oh,” he said in a soft, understanding voice. “I’m sorry she feeling bad. No problem. I call tomorrow, see how she doing. Will you give Stella the lei?”

  “Of course I will,” Mom said, taking it. “How lovely!”

  My stomach nearly barfed itself up.

  All I’d wanted was to make her sneeze.

  I felt crummy.

  Crummy all over.

  9

  Magnanimous

  “Monday is Stella’s birthday,” Mom said the next morning. “We’ve got to find a way to cheer that poor girl up, Calvin. After last night…”

  Mom shook her head.

  I was sitting at the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal. Just out the window, Mrs. Nakashima’s fence was a thick tangle of red bougainvillea. As always on a Saturday morning, Mom was zooming around getting ready to go to work.

  No matter how hard I tried, I was unable to get Stella’s swollen face out of my mind. It had cleared up some, but Stella had missed out on her big night.

  I cringed thinking about how hard Mom and Darci had worked to help her look just right.

  And I’d messed it all up. The freaky thing was, I’d totally gotten away with it. I could step up and explain the whole thing in a heartbeat. But I didn’t have the guts. I stayed in the shadows, like the roach in Stella’s closet.

  “She turns sixteen on Monday,” Mom went on.

  I nodded.

  “Cal… I know you and Stella haven’t hit it off yet, but birthdays are a time to set differences aside and celebrate. Know what I mean?”

  “Yeah … sure.”

  I was thinking about Clarence. He’d called earlier, but Stella wouldn’t talk to him because her voice was still squeaky. When Mom asked me again if I could think of any animals that might have gotten into the house, I said I bet it was a mouse.

  “Are you listening to me, Calvin?”

  I looked up. “Huh?”

  Mom put her hand on my shoulder. “On Monday we’re going to have a little party for her. I’m going to bring a cake home for after dinner.”

  “Oh.”

  I started to take a bite of cereal.

  Mom bent close and whispered, “I think Stella would just love it if you made something nice to give her.”

  Milk dripped off my spoon.

  Mom squeezed my shoulder. “There’s plenty of time for you to think of something.”

  I gulped down the rest of my cereal. I was itchy to get out of the house. I didn’t want to talk about Stella’s birthday, and I sure didn’t want to be around when she got up.

  “I’m going over to Julio’s.”

  Mom raised her hand to stop me. “Look, if you don’t do anything else, at least make her a birthday card. Will you do that?”

  My guilty conscience was giving me a headache. How could I fix what I’d done to Stella?

  “Yeah, sure, Mom.”

  “I really think you should think of a gift, though. Celebrate. Be magnanimous.”

  “Huh?”

  Mom smiled. “It means be more giving, Cal.”

  “But she calls me Stum—”

  Mom put her finger on my lips and gave me her I-want-to-be-proud-of-you look. “I know you’ll think of something…. Oh, before you go, will you wake Stella up? I have to leave.”

  Mom kissed my forehead and left.

  Dang.

  I crept down the hall to the sign on Stella’s door.

  THINK TWICE.

  I thought twice … about being somewhere else.

  I really didn’t want to go in that room again. I turned the knob and peeked in. Stella was asleep, facing the wall. Her hair covered her face and she was hugging her pillow.

  “Stella?”

  She didn’t move.

  I crept closer. Her sheet was pushed down around her feet. She slept in a T-shirt and light blue men’s boxer shorts.

  I looked up and studied the new poster above where she slept. Who’s Chris Botti?

  I shrugged and edged closer. Just wake her and run.

  “Stella.”

  Still nothing.

  “Stella,” I said louder. “Mom’s going to work. You have to get up.”

  When she still didn’t move, I poked her shoulder with my finger. “Stella!”

  She groaned and mumbled something I couldn’t understand.

  “You have to get up. Mom said.”

  She didn’t move, but this time she whispered something even a rock could understand. “Get. Out. Of. My. Room.”

  “But Mom said—”

  Stella sprang up and glared at me.

  I staggered back.

  “If you’re not out of here in one second I’m going to reach down your throat and tear your heart out!”

  Good enough for me.

  10

  The Jazz Musician

  Outside, the grass was warm under my bare feet. Down the way at the curve in the road, Julio’s house glistened bright white in the sun. Maybe he was up.

  He was, but he’d gone somewhere with his dad.

  So I went to Willy’s.

  “Hey,” Willy said when I knocked on his door. He was eating toast. Purple jam stained one corner of his mouth.

  Of all of us on our street, Willy was the only haole, a blond white boy. Julio was German-Filipino-Portuguese. Maya was pure Chinese, adopted from China, and I was a pot of stew: Italian-Filipino-Hawaiian-Chinese.

  Willy held the door open. “Come on in.”

  Willy’s dog came thumping up, wagging his tail. He nudged me with his fat head. “Hey, Bosco.” I wished I had a dog. But Mom wouldn’t let me. “They’re so stinky,” she’d said. “And they shed.”

  Bosco picked up a stuffed groundhog and followed us into the kitchen. It squeaked as he chewed on it.

  Willy’s mom and dad were reading t
he paper at the kitchen table. “Good morning, Calvin,” Mrs. Wolf said. “What are you doing out so early today?”

  I shrugged. “Mom just went to work.”

  “Ah, yes … Macy’s, right?”

  “And I’m supposed to think of something to give Stella for her birthday,” I blurted. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t get what I’d done to Stella out of my mind.

  Mrs. Wolf snapped her fingers. “Oh, Stella! From Texas.”

  “Yep.”

  “Surprise her,” Mrs. Wolf said. “Girls love to be surprised.”

  “They do? How?”

  “Well, what kinds of things does she like?”

  She likes to call me Stump. She likes to chase me with a rolled-up magazine. She likes to mess up the bathroom with all her junk. She likes guys with trumpets and pink cars that make a lot of noise. “Well,” I said, “she has a poster that she drew hearts on.”

  “Oh? What kind of poster?”

  “Some guy’s on it.” I tried to remember. “Chris something … Body? No, Bot-tee … Chris Bo-tee.”

  “The jazz musician?”

  “He had a trumpet.”

  “That’s him,” Mrs. Wolf said. “Chris Botti. Stella has excellent taste in music. I have every CD he’s made.”

  “You do?” Willy asked.

  “Sure. Stella must be a bit of a romantic. Chris Botti’s version of ‘When I Fall in Love’ is the most beautiful I’ve ever heard.”

  I looked at Willy. Willy opened his hands.

  “That’s what you should get her, Calvin,” she said. “Chris Botti’s brand-new CD. It just came out this week. Here, I’ll show it to you.”

  Mrs. Wolf grabbed the CD from a stack in a cabinet and handed it to me. It was the guy in the poster, all right.

  “This would be a very nice gift, Calvin.”

  Well… if it just came out she wouldn’t have it yet. And there were those hearts. “Good idea.” I handed it back. “Thanks.”

  I followed Willy outside to shoot some hoops in his driveway. I dribbled the ball. Should I tell him about what Julio and I did with the Zipster?

  No, no, no. Forget it. All of it. It never should have happened.