The Zippy Fix Read online

  But I couldn’t forget.

  “Take a shot,” Willy said.

  Clank!

  I couldn’t hit anything. My guilty conscience was giving me a lecture: Do something nice for Stella. Get her that new CD, and maybe—maybe—the crummy feeling might go away.

  I tossed the ball to Willy. “You want to walk into town?”

  “What for?”

  “See how much that Chris Botti CD costs.”

  11

  Running Out of Time

  “Sure, we have it,” the guy at the music store said. “Just came in this week.”

  His nametag said KEONI. He had short spiky hair and two gold rings on the right side of his lower lip. Ouch. I sure wouldn’t want rings poking through my lip.

  He nodded toward the jazz section. “Look under B.”

  Willy found it. “Here he is.”

  “Ho! He has a lot of CDs.”

  “That’s prob’ly because he’s good.”

  I turned the CD over to see the price. “Ai-yai-yai!”

  Willy grabbed it. “Eighteen dollars! You got that much?”

  I pulled out a crumpled one-dollar bill.

  “Just one?”

  I shrugged. “And thirty-one cents … in my bank… at home.”

  I jumped when Keoni came up behind us. “That’s the new CD.”

  “Uh … yeah,” I said. “Is it really eighteen dollars?”

  Keoni grinned. “Yeah, really.” He looked over his shoulder. “You like a few songs on it?” he whispered. “Download them on your computer. Save some money.”

  That would be good, but downloading was out Stella didn’t have a computer, but she was saving for one.

  I stuck Chris Botti back in the rack. The most money I’d ever had in my whole entire life was the ten-dollar bill I got for Christmas from Tutu Bunny, Mom’s mom, who lived on Kauai. But that money was long gone.

  “We have cheaper CDs,” Keoni said. “There’s a sale rack.”

  I frowned. “I just wanted this one.”

  Keoni shrugged. “Sorry.”

  Me and Willy left.

  “With a dollar you can get her peanut M&M’s,” Willy said.

  I considered that. “Or gum. She smacks it like firecrackers. Mom says it’s not ladylike.”

  Calling me names wasn’t ladylike, either, I wanted to add. But I kept that to myself. I didn’t want Willy to know she called me Stump. I prayed Julio would keep his big fat mouth shut about it, too.

  “Too bad about that CD,” Willy said.

  “It was a lot.”

  “Too much.”

  But the Chris Botti CD would really be something she’d like. And if eighteen dollars would make the crummy feeling go away it would be worth every penny.

  I started walking faster.

  Willy jogged to catch up. “What’s the hurry?”

  “I’m running out of time. Stella’s birthday is Monday and I’m seventeen dollars short.”

  12

  Cans

  “You got any cans?” Willy asked as we hurried home.

  “Cans?”

  “Pop cans. Like what strawberry soda comes in, or root beer. You can recycle them and get money.”

  I slid to a stop and clapped my hand on his shoulder. “Willy-my-man, you’re a genius! We can collect cans!”

  “Uh … I was just thinking maybe you had some in your house and you could … you know, turn them in.”

  “Right. And then we go to your house, and Julio’s, and—”

  “I get it,” Willy said.

  I flicked my eyebrows. “Let’s do it.”

  At home I found nine empty Diet Sprite cans under the bottom shelf in the kitchen pantry. I grabbed a paper grocery bag and started tossing them in.

  Two long feelers came waggling out of one of them. A huge, ugly brown cock-a-roach body followed them out.

  “Yah!”I yelped, and dropped the can, which bounced on the tile floor and sent the roach flying. It landed on its back and struggled to turn over, legs wheeling.

  “Man!” Willy gasped. “It’s big as a mouse!” We backed off.

  I got a butter knife out of the silverware drawer and flipped the roach over and waited for it to lug itself into the dark place under the shelf. Mom always stomped on them with her rubber slippers. But I hated to see the white guts come out.

  I stuck the knife blade into the can’s drinking hole and dropped the can into the grocery bag with the others.

  “What are you twerps doing?” Willy and I looked back over our shoulders.

  Stella glared down on us. From that angle she seemed ten feet tall.

  “Uhh,” I sputtered. “We … uh … we’re just, uh, taking these cans to … to … to make … a fort … yeah, a fort … for Willy’s … uh … for Willy’s army men.”

  Willy looked at me.

  “A big fort,” I added, seeing the story now. “He has these little rubber army guys, hundreds of them, thousands, maybe, and we’re going to set them up and knock them down with … with … with rubber bands.”

  “And gravel,” Willy said, catching on.

  “And marbles.”

  I grinned at Stella.

  Her face was as expressionless as a pancake. “You are so pathetic … both of you. And weird, too. How can you even live with yourselves?”

  She grabbed a Diet Sprite and left the kitchen.

  Willy turned to me. “Little rubber army guys?”

  “I had to think of something.”

  “Actually, I do have a box of them.”

  “How about cans?”

  We headed down to Willy’s house with nine aluminum cans clacking together in the paper grocery bag.

  Ahead, the black blob was lying out in the middle of the road again. A car turned onto our street and hit the brakes. The driver honked, but all Zippy did was raise his head as if to say, Can we get a little quiet here? Jeese.

  The car drove around him.

  Willy laughed. “Hey, there’s Maya.”

  She was sitting on her skateboard in her front yard. Mayleen, Maya’s older sister, was sitting on her heels behind Maya, braiding her hair.

  I gave the cans to Willy and grabbed Zippy off the street.

  “What’s going on?” Maya asked.

  I set the Zipster on the grass. “How come you don’t care if Zippy’s always in the street?”

  Maya shrugged. “He does what he does. You can handcuff him to the mailbox if you want.”

  Zippy stood motionless, staring at nothing. That cat was in a class by himself. Maya blocked the sun with her hand. “Hi, Willy.”

  Willy hesitated. “Uh …”

  “Well, anyway,” I said, “we’re collecting cans. Got any we can have?”

  “Go ask my mom. She’s cleaning out the car.”

  We found Mrs. Medeiros with her legs sticking out the open car door. We waited until she wiggled herself back out, her hands full of car junk.

  Including a crushed pop can.

  Mrs. Medeiros smiled when she saw us. “Well, hello, Calvin and Willy. What are you two up to?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing. Can I have that pop can, Mrs. Medeiros? I’m collecting them.”

  “Sure.” She handed it to me.

  “You got any more we can have?”

  Mrs. Medeiros threw the junk away and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Inside. Let’s go look.”

  Me and Willy walked away from Maya’s house with eighteen new pop cans.

  “Bye, Willy,” Maya called.

  I whispered, “She likes you.”

  Willy shoved me. “Shuddup!”

  I staggered, laughing.

  Surprising Stella was actually kind of fun. The crummy feeling was still there, but it was shrinking.

  13

  Pathetic

  We got thirteen ginger ale cans at Mrs. Nakashima’s house and seventeen Diet Coke cans at Willy’s. Now we had so many we had to get a couple more grocery bags.

  We went out to the
patio and sat at a table with a shady umbrella in the middle. The grass in Willy’s backyard was freshly mowed. It smelled good.

  We dumped the cans onto the table and counted them.

  Fifty-seven!

  “What’s fifty-seven times five cents?”

  “Wait.” Willy ran into the house and came back with a pencil and a piece of paper. “Okay … let’s figure it out… oh, and here’s four quarters I had in my room.”

  “But—”

  “It’s a loan. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Fine, a loan.” I grabbed the pencil. “So, fifty-seven times five.”

  Willy hunched close. “How much is it?”

  I frowned at my calculation. Making money was not easy, especially when you’re running out of time. “Three dollars and eighty-five cents, including your four quarters.”

  “That’s it?”

  I nodded. It was as depressing as two pages of word problems.

  “Stella was right,” I said. “We’re pathetic.”

  14

  Junior Criminal

  We were getting tired of carrying three bags of pop cans around, so we decided to head over to Kalapawai Market and turn them into cash.

  On the way we saw Maya skateboarding in the street, cool and easy, like a good surfer. She saw us and zoomed over. “Looks like you got a few more cans,” she said, kicking her skateboard up into her hands.

  “Fifty-seven.”

  “Why you collecting them, anyway?”

  “Make money. I need to buy Stella a birthday present.”

  “I thought you didn’t like her.”

  I shrugged.

  “I heard she calls you Stump.”

  I squinted. “Who told you that?”

  “Darci.”

  The little brat.

  “I don’t know what she’s talking about. Come,” I said, wanting to change the subject. “We’re going to Kalapawai to cash them in.”

  Maya dropped her skateboard. “Boring.” She zipped off, curving and ducking and standing with her back swayed like a surfer on the cover of a magazine.

  “She’s good,” Willy said.

  “Yep.”

  Kalapawai Market was a green and white wood building that had been there since forever. They sold hats, maps, T-shirts, snacks, newspapers, groceries, postcards, ice cream, dried squid, cuttlefish, beach chairs, and anything else you needed.

  Plus they gave you cash for your pop cans.

  I stopped to recount what we had one last time. “Still fifty-seven. And a few ants. But no cock-a-roaches.”

  Willy grinned. “Man, that thing was big.”

  “Your cousin.”

  “Shuddup!”

  Boy, did I feel good. I was with Willy and we were about to get rich. The day just kept getting better and better.

  “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

  Birfday

  “The 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 o
ut. “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

  Shave Ice

  Uncle 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?”