A Brand-New Me! (3 page)

“Hi, Dad!” I hollered. “I got some bok choy for you!”

You'd think he would have been happy. I mean, how many times in his life has he gotten bok choy for no reason at all? But my dad is my dad, and happy is not his middle name. You're probably not interested, but in case you are, his middle name is Whoopington. No kidding, it really is. Like the whoopee cushion but without the noise.

“You're late,” was the best greeting he could muster up.

“But I have a good explanation.”

Just then, my sister Emily wandered in from her bedroom, with her iguana, Katherine, draped around her neck like a scaly scarf.

“Don't tell me,” she said. “You were looking for your math book which you couldn't find because it was in your backpack which you couldn't find because you had left it in the lunchroom where you forgot to get the change from the mac 'n' cheese lunch special which you dropped on the way to your table.”

“I'm amazed, Emily,” I snarled. “How did you know?”

“It comes with the territory,” she answered, with her freckled nose up in the air. “When you're smart like me, you know these things.”

“Well, I know things, too,” I said. “Like your lizard is barfing on your sweatshirt.”

Boy, did I get a good laugh when she looked at her sweatshirt with total panic.

“That's enough, you guys,” my dad said. “You both have better things to do, and I've got to finish this financial report before five.”

“That works out perfectly, Dad,” I said, dropping my backpack and the bok choy on his recliner chair. “It'll give me a chance to hang out with Frankie and Ashley.”

“They're in the clubhouse,” Emily said. “And I want to come.”

“You can,” I said to her. “Just wait until tomorrow.”

“But you guys won't be there then.”

“You see? You do know things.”

Without waiting for her answer, I ran for the front door. Luckily, the elevator was still waiting on my floor. I popped in, pushed
B
for basement, and was on my way. I couldn't wait to tell Frankie and Ashley the good news. We would all three graduate together, just like we had always planned.

I used the elevator ride down to the basement to continue singing my song. Wait. Don't put the book down. I will spare you this time. Just imagine someone singing my graduation song, who sings really well.

The basement smelled like its usual soap suds self, which meant that someone from the apartment building was doing a load of laundry. I could hear Frankie and Ashley's laughter from down the hall. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but it sounded like they were having a great old time.

“Hank Zipzer, reporting for fun,” I said, poking my head into our clubhouse storeroom. Frankie and Ashley were both sitting on the old flowered couch, with their feet up on two cardboard boxes that were labeled
Mrs. Fink's Summer Hats
and
Mr. Park's Vinyl Records
. I don't know why grown-ups save everything they don't want in cardboard boxes. It seems to me that the stuff just sits around for a hundred years, then when you go to pick up the box, everything falls out of the bottom. But the good news is, those cardboard boxes in storage make great footstools for our clubhouse.

When I walked in, Frankie and Ashley stopped talking. It was weird, though. It wasn't like they just stopped talking. I mean, they stopped short, like in the middle of a sentence. And then they both looked up and stared at me. I didn't know why, but the look on their faces reminded me of the way our dog, Cheerio, looks when I catch him chewing on my fuzzy plaid slippers.

“Wow, Zip!” Frankie said. “What's going on?”

I noticed that he took a piece of paper that was in his hand and stuffed it down in between the cushions of the couch.

“Guess who got his twenty hours of community service rolling?” I said.

“That's so great, Hank!” Ashley said. “You really gave us a scare for a minute.”

Wait a minute. Was that her hand stuffed down between the cushions, too? Yes, it was. There was something going on here.

“What did you guys stuff down there between the cushions?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Frankie said. “We were just looking for change.”

“A person can always use some extra spending money,” Ashley agreed.

“Guys,” I said. “We've known each other since we were droolers. I can tell you're hiding something. So what is it?”

My mind was going over the possibilities. It wasn't my birthday, so it couldn't be a birthday present. It was too early for a graduation gift. I'm not a father, so it couldn't be a father's day card.

And I'm not a mind reader, so I had no idea what it was.

Frankie and Ashley just sat there on the couch in our clubhouse like statues. It was so quiet, you could hear the dryer spinning down the hall and the pigeons making their little pigeon noises through the barred windows.

“Are you going to make me reach down there myself?” I asked finally.

“Zip,” Frankie said. “It's a long story.”

“So shorten it up to a sentence.”

“I think we should start at the beginning,” Ashley said.

“Well, I think we should start at the end. Just show me what you're hiding.”

Frankie sighed, looked at Ashley, reached down and pulled out two pieces of crumpled paper. He held them out to me and I could tell by the look on his face that whatever those papers were, they were not gift certificates.

“How about you just tell me what it says? Unless it's really bad news, and if it is, you can stuff them back in the couch.”

“It's good news and bad news,” Ashley said. “Good news for us, and we didn't want to hurt your feelings.”

I wasn't getting it. I mean, how could something that was good news for them hurt my feelings? They're my best friends. Good news for them is good news for me, right?

“Dear Mr. Townsend,” Frankie began reading. “We are pleased to inform you that your application to the Anderson Middle School Gifted and Talented Program has been accepted. Congratulations!”

I looked over at Ashley.

“Mine says the same thing,” she said. There were tears in her eyes.

All of a sudden, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn't get that letter. I didn't get any letter except the one from the school saying that the smell of old bananas was still coming from my locker and would I be kind enough to clean it out with a soapy sponge.

“Wait a minute,” I said, a little confused. “That means you guys applied to this genius school and never even told me?”

“We told you we were taking the entrance exam,” Frankie said. “Remember? That Saturday when Papa Pete took you bowling and we couldn't go.”

“Yeah, I knew you were taking a test, but I didn't know that test meant . . .”

I couldn't even think it, let alone say it.

“Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Wait . . . a . . . minute.”

My mind was spinning.

“Are you telling me that we're not going to the same school? We've been in the same class since kindergarten.”

“Zip, let me explain. There's more to it.”

“Oh good. I know what you're going to say. That you got in, but you're really not going, because who wants to go with a bunch of geniuses, anyway. Phew, that's a relief.”

“Hank,” Ashley said. “It's a huge honor to get picked for the Anderson School. There are over 500 applications for only 184 seats.

“We can't say no,” Frankie added. “And we'll still be able to see each other after school and on weekends and stuff.”

“I know, I know, it's an honor and everything.” I was really trying to be glad for them, but my emotions just wouldn't cooperate. “You're going to make new friends and have really hard homework and lots of it and me, I'll just be . . . where? Hey, where will I be?”

“You'll go to the regular middle school, whichever one you applied for,” Ashley said.

“Who even remembers what I applied for?” I answered. “I just checked all the boxes on the form.”

“So,” Frankie said, “you'll probably go to MS 245 with a bunch of other kids in the class.”

“Oh, thanks a lot. Me, Luke Whitman, and his pet slug. But that's okay, because you guys will be hanging out with your new group of Junior Einsteins.”

“You're going to be fine,” Ashley said.

“Yeah, Zip. We're best friends. That doesn't just evaporate into the ozone.”

“See?” I said. “That genius school is already rubbing off on you. Now you're using words like evaporate and ozone. What's next? You're going to tell me my epidermis needs washing? Oh, that means skin, if you didn't know.”

“I have an idea,” Frankie said, standing up and putting his hand on my shoulder like nothing had happened. “Why don't we go to my apartment and watch the Mets game?”

“That sounds fun,” Ashley said.

I could tell they were desperate to change the subject.

“You guys go ahead,” I said. “I'm going back to my apartment. I have a lot to think about.”

“Don't be like that, Zip.”

“No, it's okay. I understand, really I do. It's just really hard to understand. Know what I mean?”

Suddenly, I felt like I was going to cry and I really didn't want to do that in front of them. They're my friends, and something good had happened to them. I should have been happy. On the other hand, my life as I knew it was about to change completely.

And if there's one thing I'm allergic to, it's change.
Uh-oh. I feel a rash coming on right behind my knees.

As I rode up the elevator, my heart was pounding. This was a lot of information to take in, and my brain was in a not-taking-in mode. I needed to be alone, to think, to work this out.

I took my key out of my jeans pocket before the elevator even stopped at the tenth floor. The moment the doors flew open, I was out and heading to our front door. Unfortunately, our neighbor Mrs. Fink had other plans for me. It seemed as if she was looking through her peephole waiting for me.

“Hank,” she said as she stuck her head out her door. “What do you smell?”

“Nothing, Mrs. Fink. My nose is on vacation at the moment.”

“Such a funny boy,” she said with a laugh. “It's my cherry strudel. And it's calling your name. Can you hear it? Or are your ears on vacation, too?”

“As a matter of fact, they're on the same plane. Really, Mrs. Fink, I can't eat right now. I have some thinking to do. I hope you understand.”

“Thinking is good,” she said. “But eating is better.”

I gave her a friendly wave as I opened my door. I was so determined to get to my room that I let the door slam behind me. I hoped Mrs. Fink didn't take offense. I'd explain it to her later when I came back for the strudel. But right then, it was room, sweet room that I needed.

I headed down the hall to my room and flung open the door. Oh boy. There it was. A sight I was definitely not expecting.

There's no nice way to say this, so I'm just going to come out with it. What I was staring at was my baby brother, Harry, or should we say, the bottom part of my brother, Harry. And when I say bottom, I mean bottom. He was lying on his changing table, and my mom was holding his legs straight up in the air, changing his diaper. And the aroma that came from that exact direction made the hair in my nose curl up and down so fast, it made me sneeze.

“Bless you, Hank,” my mother said.

I couldn't even get a word out, I was gagging so hard. How do mothers do it? Maybe when you have a baby, your nose stops working for a year or two to let you change diapers without fainting. That had to be the case because, otherwise, my Mom would be on the floor constantly.

“Mom, I'm begging you. Could you do that somewhere else? I really need to be alone.”

“Just pretend we're not here, honey,” she said.

“I can do that with ninety-four percent of me,” I answered. “But my nose part won't cooperate.”

“Oh, does it smell bad in here?”

“I need goggles and a nose plug, Mom. No offense, Harry. I know you have to do what you have to do. I just wish you didn't have to do it in my room.”

“How long until Harry's potty trained, Mom? Not that I'm counting or anything.”

“Oh, just another twenty months or so,” my mom said. “Depending on how he takes to the potty.”

There was no depending about it. I decided right then and there that I was going to duct tape the potty to his little behind until he got the hang of it. I mean, this was my room, too, and I didn't appreciate his fragrant contribution.

“You look upset, Hank, honey,” my mom said. “Anything wrong?”

I threw myself on my bed, put my hands behind my head, and sighed deeply. It was the first time I had taken a breath of any kind since the clubhouse.

“Frankie and Ashley got into the smart kids middle school,” I said. “And in case you didn't notice, I applied nowhere special.”

My mom picked up Harry and carried him over to me. She sat down on the bed. Harry flashed me one of his crooked baby grins, and I couldn't resist asking my mom if I could hold him. She handed him to me, and he started sucking on my nose. Wow, he couldn't even tell his thumb from my nose. Obviously this kid wasn't destined for any brainiac school, either.