Elvis and the Underdogs

by Jenny Lee

  And right then, another paper airplane sailed into the room. This time I saw it against the mermaid night-light my mom always puts in my rooms. (Apparently, when I was really small and we were on some beachy vacation, I saw it in a gift shop and pointed at it and said, “Mama.” The mermaid has big blond hair like my mom’s. So she bought it and made up stories about how she used to be a mermaid in a past life.) I reached up to grab it when Elvis said, “Stop! Don’t touch it!” The tone of his voice was so stern, I pulled my hand back in. Elvis galloped to the other side of my bed to investigate. I flipped on the lamp, and three more paper airplanes sailed into my room, one after the other.

  “There’s more! Hey! I bet this is the beginning of my surprise from Dino.”

  Finally the last plane sailed in, landing perfectly at the foot of my bed. I leaned forward to grab it when a big black paw slapped down on top of it.

  “I said don’t touch it.”

  “Elvis, it’s fine. Now lift your big fat paw and let me get it. It’s a paper airplane, for Pete’s sake. What’s the worst thing that can happen? I get a paper cut?” Elvis lifted his paw, and I grabbed the now-crumpled plane. The plane had the number 6 written on one wing. On the other wing it said, Open me last.

  “Quick, we gotta find all the other planes!” I scrambled out of bed and found all the planes except for number three. I looked everywhere until Elvis finally admitted he had caught one in his mouth and spit it out in the trash can. I pulled out the soggy mess, but I couldn’t read it because all the ink had blurred.

  “I really hope all the important stuff wasn’t in that airplane,” I said as I laid them all out on the bed.

  “I’m not too worried, I’ve been trained in code cracking.”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course he’d been trained in code cracking.

  Here is what the planes said:

  Paper Airplane #1: Surprise! Congrats on the tenth hole in your punch card!

  Paper Airplane #2: At exactly 3:33 a.m., go to the far left elevator and push the SB3 button.

  Paper Airplane #3: Blurry mess (thanks to Elvis).

  Paper Airplane #4: Bring a sweatshirt. It might get a little cold.

  Paper Airplane #5: Try not to get caught leaving your room.

  Paper Airplane #6: If you get caught, do not tell anyone anything.

  Great, the third paper airplane probably said where we were going to go, I thought. I guessed now it really would be a surprise. It was already 3:27 a.m. I grabbed my sweatshirt and put on my slippers.

  “We’ve got to go now. C’mon!”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to roam the hospital at night. You should stay in bed, Benjamin.”

  “Oh, come on. I’ll be fine. I feel great. And Dino’s a nurse. What are you? Chicken?”

  “Of course not. I have very few fears. Well, I’m not thrilled to be in a thunderstorm, but I’m not scared of it either.”

  “Then let’s go.” I made a move toward the door, but Elvis blocked me.

  “All I’m saying is you are in the hospital for a reason. Perhaps it’s not the best time for an adventure. There are rules of conduct for every situation.”

  “First off, I’m in the hospital because of you and your big mouth.”

  “Please, pray tell, how this could possibly be my fault?”

  “You’re the one who talked, you’re the one who told me that wackadoo story about being the president’s dog, and then I told my mom, and she thought I was off my rocker, and here we are.”

  Elvis stared at me. “Fine, I’ll take my share of the blame, as perhaps I didn’t have to lead with the White House, but still . . .”

  “Stop wasting time. Why can’t I just have some fun? More importantly, why can’t you? You’re just a dog, and I thought dogs were supposed to be fun.”

  “How dare you, sir. You take that back!”

  “What? How dare who? I’m sorry. What did I say?”

  “I’m not just a dog. I’m a purebred, highly educated, superbly skilled dog who is probably smarter than you. Do you know CPR?”

  “No. Do you know who all the presidents are?”

  “Of course I do. Can you name all the capitals of all the states?”

  “Yes. Do you know where Bora-Bora is on a globe?”

  “Certainly. Can you tell me the year man first landed on the moon?”

  “Duh. Do you know what pi is?”

  “Who has pie? I love pie.”

  “I’m not talking about pie you eat, I’m talking about the number pi. P-I. But I like pie too. Banana cream is my favorite. My mom makes a great one.”

  “Yes, of course I know the number pi. How many digits can you do of pi?”

  “3.141592653589. Thirteen. And you?”

  “3.141592653589793238462. Twenty-two.”

  “Show-off.” Fine, so maybe he was smarter than me. But why couldn’t he ever act like a regular dog? “So can you even do any regular dog tricks? Can you catch a Frisbee?”

  “Why on earth would I want to catch a Frisbee? I only do things that I believe will help serve mankind. I hardly think catching Frisbees does anything for the greater good of humanity.”

  “Can you just talk normally? And I think dogs who catch Frisbees are really talented and lots of fun, so you may want to think about learning how.”

  “What are you implying by that statement?”

  “I’m not implying anything. I’m telling you you’re not fun.”

  “I am too.”

  “Then let’s go have some fun.” I started toward the door, stepping around Elvis. “Fine, don’t come. See if I care. And besides, according to you, you’re not my dog anyway, so it’s all good.” And with that I popped my head out the door, looking both ways down the hall. The coast was clear, so I made a break for it and ran toward the elevators. Within two seconds Elvis was running by my side. He decided to come after all.

  Luckily, we didn’t see anyone, but it took a while before the far left elevator showed up. I pressed the down button, but by the time the right elevator came up, it was already 3:35 a.m. We were late. I hate being late. I pressed the SB3 button inside the elevator and noticed my breathing growing rapid and shallow. This is how most of my asthma attacks start. I get nervous, and then I get nervous that I’m getting nervous, and then I really get nervous about getting nervous. Then I take deep breaths so I calm down, but then it doesn’t feel like I can get enough air into my lungs and that makes me even more nervous, which is when I take faster short breaths, which can sometimes give me the hiccups, and then . . .

  Elvis pushed the red stop button with his nose. The elevator screeched to a halt. I’ve seen that happen in movies plenty, but I’ve never been in an elevator where someone did it before, and especially not a dog! Now I was really nervous.

  “Benjamin. Everything is okay. You’re okay. You need to try to calm down.”

  “Calm down? Calm down?! We’re late and you just stopped the elevator, which is going to make us more late. Oh no, I’m feeling dizzy. Am I sweating? Is it warm in here? I’m gonna faint, aren’t I?”

  But just before I fainted, Elvis pushed me against the wall and licked my face. Blech, it was so gross and warm and slobbery, but also ticklish on my neck. I laughed, and suddenly I started to feel better again.

  “Stop it! Stop it! That tickles.”

  “Rule number one: Don’t leave a room without me and in midconversation. It’s rude,” Elvis said. “Rule number two: Don’t get mad at me when I say I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to run around the hospital in the middle of the night. Rule number three: Don’t tell me I’m not fun. I’m plenty fun. I can tell a knock-knock joke in French, so next week when I’m at my White House party, I’ll be a laugh riot. And just in case I’m not being clear, you need to understand something. I’m not with you to be fun, I’m here to do my job, which is to protect you. I spent two years training so I could do my job right. I took and passed every single class at my dog academy. I can lead a blind person. I can d
etect heart attacks and alert people who are about to have a seizure. I can water rescue. I can get you out of a burning building. I can dig my way out of any yard. If you get lost, I can use smell to find you miles away. I can handle any dangerous situation and get you to safety easily and with confidence. I graduated at the top of my class. No other dog worked harder than me. I take my job very seriously. And when I know you’re safe, you and I can chat and bicker and joke around and fight over dumb stuff, but my number-one job is to keep you safe. And yes, you are correct, technically I am not your designated service dog, but until this little mix-up is all cleared up, I strongly feel the honorable thing to do would be to fill in for now. I’m certain it is what the president would expect of me. So, are you feeling better now? Can I restart the elevator?”

  I nodded. With that, Elvis walked over to the elevator knob, gently grasped it between his front teeth, and pulled it. The elevator moved again. I didn’t say anything. Suddenly, I felt shy around Elvis.

  “I get it. And I didn’t mean to be rude. I just didn’t want to be late.”

  The elevator stopped at SB3. SB3 stands for subbasement level three, which was the very bottom of the entire hospital, because there was the basement level, subbasement level two, and then subbasement level three, where the morgue was located.

  Wait a second . . . suddenly it all made sense. SB3 was the morgue! Dino was taking me to the morgue! When the doors opened, Dino was standing there with a huge smile on his face.

  “No way! Are you . . . ? Are we . . . ? We’re not really going to . . . ? I can’t believe it!” I said to Dino as Elvis followed me into the hallway and I stared at a sign that was posted on the wall. It clearly said MORGUE.

  “Whoa, is that a dog or a bear?” Dino said as soon as he saw Elvis.

  “It’s a dog. His name is Elvis.”

  “Elvis? Whoa, cool name.”

  “See, I told you it was cool,” I said to Elvis.

  “Are you talking to the dog?” Dino cocked his head and looked at me.

  “The dog’s official name is Parker Elvis Pembroke IV, but I call him Elvis. What do you think?”

  Dino held out his giant hand for Elvis’s giant nose to smell, and then he patted him on his head. Dino talked to Elvis loudly and slowly, kind of the way my mom talks to my dad’s mom, who currently lives in a rest home in California.

  “Hello, doggie. My name is Dino. You are really big.”

  “You’re one to talk,” Elvis barked.

  “Hey, I felt like he understood me.” Dino smiled. “Too bad neither of us speaks dog so we’d know what he said, right?”

  “Oh I doubt he said anything interesting anyway,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  “You know, Benji, if you’re scared or freaked out, we don’t have to do this,” Dino said.

  I was terrified and really, really freaked out, but I really, really wanted to go. I’ve always been curious about the morgue, and I’ve seen a dead body or two on television, but I’ve never seen one in person.

  “Are we going to see a dead body?”

  Dino knows me well, so he knew my anxiety level was pretty high. He watched me carefully and said that we didn’t have to see a dead body if I didn’t want to, but that we could at least walk around down there.

  “Think of the stories you can tell all your friends at school,” he said.

  “Yeah, that’s for sure.”

  I said this as though it was true. I didn’t want to admit I don’t actually have any real friends at school. But there were a few people I could tell, like my mom, and the twins, my dad, Ms. Hensel the librarian, and probably Ms. Blaine, but that might be risky, because she’s the type of teacher who’d offer me extra credit if I turned it into a class presentation, “Me and My Trip to the Morgue,” a diorama by Benji Wendell Barnsworth. Normally, I’d tell Dino and Dr. Helen my stories, but obviously Dino is part of the story, and I’m betting Dino wouldn’t want me sharing this adventure with Dr. Helen, since she was basically his boss. But I have to admit that the very first person who popped into my head when he said that was Taisy McDonald.

  “Dino, I didn’t know you were Taisy’s uncle,” I said. “Did you know she’s in my class at school?”

  “What? Get out of here! You go to Saint Elmo’s Street Elementary School?”

  “Yup.”

  “I guess I assumed you were way younger than Taisy. No offense, little man, but she’s almost twice your size.”

  “Just because I’m shorter doesn’t mean I’m younger. Spending lots of time in hospitals put my reading level ahead of other kids.”

  “Taisy’s a good girl. My favorite niece is the daughter of my least favorite brother. Go figure, huh?”

  I could tell he didn’t really want to discuss it anymore, and besides, the morgue probably wasn’t the place for idle chitchat about the people we had in common outside of the hospital. I definitely wanted to know more about Taisy, but I’d have to wait.

  “Earth to Benji. Come in, come in.”

  “What? Oh, sorry. I want to do this.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “No, but I want to do it anyway.”

  “Man, I can see the little hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up.”

  “Dino, I want to do this.”

  Elvis sensed my nervousness, or perhaps the fact that my teeth were chattering even though I wasn’t cold was a giveaway, but he placed his nose under my left arm and tossed his head so that my hand landed on top of his head, making me pet him.

  Elvis spoke quietly. “Petting dogs helps people with high blood pressure relax. And Benjamin, you need to relax.”

  “You gotta keep him quiet,” Dino said. “We can’t get caught walking around down here. It’s bad enough we’re down here, but having a dog down here would be worse. Why is he making so much noise?”

  “I don’t know, but let’s hope it’s not because he sees dead people.” I chuckled nervously at my own joke and petted Elvis like he suggested. His fur was silky smooth, and I had to admit it was working. I felt calmer. I also realized that where I heard Elvis talking, other people seemed to hear him barking or whining.

  We walked into a large main room filled with steel drawers like you see on cop shows when they have to go to the morgue. The room was empty, but there were lots of long silver tables. There was also a half-eaten tray of food on one of the tables.

  “Ew, if I worked in a morgue, I don’t think I’d be bringing my tray back here to eat. Gross.”

  “So, now that we’re here, is there anything you want to do?” Dino asked.

  “Do? Like what are my options?”

  “I don’t know. I figure kids are into creepy things. We could look at a dead body. We could guess which drawers are empty and which ones are full and then open them to see who was right. We could use a Sharpie and you can sign underneath one of these tables and say that Benji Barnsworth was here . . . but not dead.”

  Dino’s ideas were all interesting, but I wasn’t sure if any were exactly right. I was pretty excited to be in the morgue. I was much less excited at the thought of seeing a real dead body. The smell down here alone was already starting to make me a little queasy. It smelled like a fake smell that people spray so that it won’t smell like actual dead people.

  Elvis walked over, cocked his head to one side, and stared at me hard.

  “Sorry, but I’m trying to think of something to do down here. It’s not every day I get to see a morgue. Who knows when I’ll ever be in a morgue again? I mean, when I’m alive and can actually enjoy it a little.”

  “I’m pretty sure that morgues are not on anyone’s top ten lists of fun times, so I think this is pretty much as good as it gets. Seen it, done it, let’s go,” said Elvis.

  He was right about the morgue. All the cool things in a morgue probably involved seeing or touching a dead person, and if I did that now when I was ten, what would I have to look forward to when I was older? I decided that it’d be cool to get a picture of myself d
own here. Dino told me to hop on up on a table, and he’d take a picture of me playing dead. Now why didn’t I think of that brilliant idea?

  Dino picked me up and sat me down on a table, which was really cold, by the way, and I played dead. This was going to be the coolest picture ever. Dino took a few, and then I had a brainstorm. I asked Dino if he’d take a few pictures of me and Elvis together.

  “Elvis, you get up on this table next to me and play dead too.”

  “I will do no such thing.”

  “Please.”

  “Benjamin, I’m working. Remember our little talk? You apparently have the memory of a fruit fly. I don’t like to play games when I’m working, and if I were going to play one, it wouldn’t be playing dead.”

  “I’m playing dead too. It’s not like I’m asking you to do anything that I’m not doing. C’mon, it’ll be fun, just try it. Hey, Dino, get the camera ready.”

  “Yo, Benji, maybe he doesn’t want to do it. And this table is probably too high for him to jump on, and I’m big and strong, but I’m not sure I’m big and strong enough to lift a two-thousand-pound dog onto a table. It isn’t so easy for us big guys to . . .”

  This next part I’m going to tell you like it happened in slow motion, even though it didn’t. But if this were a movie, this part would definitely be in slow motion, because you’d have to see it that way to believe it.

  I hadn’t known Elvis all that long, but from what I gathered about his personality, all he had to do was hear someone say that he couldn’t do something, like jump up onto an exam table in a morgue, and suddenly there was nothing stopping him from doing it. What I admire is that he’s a dog of action and not of words. It’s not like he got all flustered and was all, how dare you, and you take that back, and you did not just say that. Nope, Elvis calmly trotted in the other direction, paused, and then ran.

  Here’s the thing about massive dogs. They run faster than you think, and it’s amazing to see all that hair flying. As my mom would say, it’s like he was in a dog shampoo commercial. Now, the only thing even more amazing than seeing a dog that big run is seeing a dog that big jump. It’s like watching a jumbo 747 plane take off. You just can’t imagine that giant hunk of metal flying. With Elvis, when he sprang off his back paws, my brain went into overdrive. I thought, There’s no way that giant hunk o’ dog is gonna get in the air, but he did. He leaped up. Let me say this, these tables are at least four and a half feet tall. I needed Dino to boost me up onto it, because it was too tall and my arms are too weak. So seeing a dog jump that high was crazy cool.