I can’t believe school is over. I have no plans for the summer. I’m going to talk to Dad about it.
Mr. Buntrock taught us how to make bottle rockets. We got soaked with diet cola. I’m still a bit sticky. I have to go now. Dad says I have to take a bath. He says if I don’t, I’ll attract fruit flies.
Gross.
Love,
Henry
P.S. How is the people-watching in Las Vegas?
14
It was Saturday morning, the first day of summer vacation. Max called to invite me over to his place to hang out before he left for camp. I was still mad at him, but I didn’t have anything else to do. It was better than doing nothing.
Max’s room is way bigger than mine. Maybe bigger than our entire living room, even. There’s a chess theme to his room. He has two big chess pieces carved out of wood: a king and a queen. They’re almost as tall as he is. He has a collection of chess sets. One has pieces that look like superheroes. Another has Alice in Wonderland characters. He has a poster of Garry Kasparov playing chess against Deep Blue. Kasparov was a world chess champion, and Deep Blue was the name of an IBM computer program that could play chess with humans. It was a new thing back then, and it was a huge deal when Deep Blue beat Kasparov. Max also has a poster of Magnus Carlsen. He’s Max’s favorite chess player of all time. He’s from Norway. He became a grand master when he was thirteen. Max told me it’s the highest title a chess player can earn, and once they earn it they can keep the title for life.
Camp Kanakwa is the name of the camp that Max goes to. Max says it’s his favorite place in the world. It’s on Lake Newago, about two hours away. Max has been going every summer since he was in second grade. It’s full of guys like him, guys who are obsessed with chess.
“Do you want me to get you a camp T-shirt?” he asked. I figured he was trying to be nice to make up for being such a jerk about my Chads.
“Why would I want a T-shirt from your camp?” I said, not trying to be nice. “I don’t go there. I’m never going to go there.”
“Fine.”
“Maybe one of your minions in the chess club would like one,” I answered. “Maybe you should get one for Gretchen Thorn. Just make sure it isn’t a fake T-shirt.”
“Why would I get a T-shirt for Gretchen Thorn?” he said.
“I don’t know,” I answered. “You’re always hanging out with her and Youssef and Jamal and the rest of your chess club chums.”
“Chums?” he said. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a word I learned from the Hardy Boys,” I said. “It means friends.”
“Oh,” said Max. “Because chum is also what you call chopped fish when you use it as bait. So I guess it’s a homophone.”
“Yeah, well,” I said. “We’re not in school anymore.”
“Look,” Max said. “I feel bad about the whole thing with your Chads yesterday. I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about them. I was just trying to be funny.”
“You were a jerk,” I said.
“I’m sorry, Henry.”
“I hate it when you get everyone to laugh at me,” I said. “It sucks. And you know what else sucks?”
“What?”
“I’m probably not going to do anything this summer,” I said. “That sucks even more.”
“Get your parents to sign you up for something,” suggested Max. “Maybe it’s not too late. Jamal is going to a robot camp. It’s at the university. They get to make robots. Then, at the end, they have a Robot Olympics.”
“I’ve been trying to get my parents to sign me up for something for months,” I said. “If my dad can’t afford to get real Chad Bakers, then I doubt he can afford to sign me up for a real camp.”
“You’d like camp,” said Max.
“Yeah, well,” I said. And then I didn’t say anything else. We don’t usually run out of things to say, but this was different. It was a bit awkward.
“I better go,” I said. I had to get out of there. I knew I was going to miss Max, but I didn’t want to admit it. I was still mad, but even worse, I was starting to feel sad.
“Hold on, Henry,” said Max, looking through his desk drawer.
He wrote something on a piece of paper and gave it to me.
“Here’s my email address at camp,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said, stuffing the paper into my pocket. “I guess I’ll see ya.”
“See ya,” he said.
I left his house and climbed onto my bike. It’s actually Max’s old bike. He gave it to me last summer after he got a new one. Typical.
On my way home, I saw Gretchen Thorn. It was at the intersection near the park. I was waiting for the light to change. She was wearing a red baseball hat and a green baseball jersey. She was walking a dog. It looked like one of those wiener dogs. Its legs were so tiny that it had to run just to walk.
“One,” she said, smiling at me.
“What?” I said.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you this summer,” she said. “I’m keeping count.”
“Um, okay,” I said.
The light turned green. I quickly walked my bike across the street and then sped away. Gretchen had only ever talked to me when she was with Max and all the other chess club kids. I wasn’t going to wait around for her to call me a pawn or make some dumb joke about me being a poet. I had no idea why she wanted to keep count of the number of times she saw me. It all seemed kind of weird.
Back at home in my room, I took the piece of paper out of my pocket.
[email protected]
WRITE ME!!
I crumpled it up and threw it on the floor.
15
Last summer my mom was getting used to her new job at Herbit. My dad was getting used to staying at home. And we were all trying to get used to having Sam around. I think my parents were both a little freaked out with all the changes. It felt like they kind of forgot about me.
Luckily, Poppy didn’t. He invited me to spend a whole week at his place. I stayed in Dad’s old room. Poppy barbecued almost every night. We went to the movies. We went to a bunch of secondhand shops. I helped Poppy organize his basement. He’s not a hoarder or anything, but he has a lot of stuff. Some of it is pretty interesting. He has every National Geographic since 1958. He has old radios and televisions. He also has boxes and boxes of Dad’s old things.
I had the best time that week at Poppy’s. At night we watched his television shows. He likes to watch things like The Antique Hunter and What’s in Your Closet? We had some good talks, too. Poppy called them “life chats.” He seemed to understand what it’s like to have your world invaded by a baby.
“I know it must be difficult for you, Henry,” he said. “You were the king of the castle until Sam came along. Now you have to share the castle with your little brother. But don’t worry. You’re still my favorite.”
“How can you say that, Poppy?” I asked, a little shocked. “I didn’t think grandparents were allowed to have favorites. What about Sam?”
“He’s just a little bean,” he said, smiling. “I’m sure I’ll like him when he gets older. But right now he’s just a sleeping, eating and pooping machine. That’s why he’s at home and you’re here with me. And I’m glad you are. I think Rupert is glad, too!”
Rupert is Poppy’s white wirehaired fox terrier. He looks a lot like Poppy, except he doesn’t wear glasses. They both have fuzzy faces and big beards. Rupert is ten years old. That means he’s older, in dog years, than Poppy.
Poppy and I walked Rupert four times a day: first thing in the morning, just before lunch, in the afternoon and after dinner.
One evening we took Rupert to the park. It was packed with people. The ice-cream truck pulled up, playing its ice-cream song. Poppy gave me some money and told me I could get whatever I wanted.
�
�Can I take Rupert with me?” I asked. Poppy doesn’t usually let me hold Rupert’s leash. He says dogs are unpredictable.
That time, though, he let me.
“You can take him if you’re extra careful,” he said. “I’ll sit on this bench right here and I’ll keep an eye on you two. Whatever you do, Henry, don’t let go of his leash.”
“I won’t,” I said.
Rupert and I walked across the park and joined the lineup at the ice-cream truck. I held on to Rupert’s leash extra tight. Rupert did a lot of sniffing. A few people asked if they could pet him. I said it was okay.
“Sit!” I said to Rupert when we were almost at the front of the line.
Rupert sat. He was being a good dog.
“Stay!” I said.
Rupert stayed while I kept checking my pockets for the money Poppy had given me.
I must have dropped the leash when I was reaching around to check my back pockets. I don’t know. I didn’t feel it slip out of my hands.
A passing car honked its horn at someone. I guess it was the sound of the horn that made Rupert take off.
I just stood there. I couldn’t move.
“RUPERT!” I yelled.
I looked across the park and saw Poppy get up off the bench.
“RUPERT!” he boomed. I’d never heard him use that voice before. It was very loud and a little bit scary. “Come here, boy!”
Rupert ran straight over to Poppy. I guess he knew Poppy wasn’t fooling around.
I left the line and ran back to where they were standing.
“What happened, Henry?” asked Poppy. He sounded angry. “I thought I told you to be careful.”
“I’m sorry, Poppy,” I said. “I didn’t even feel the leash fall out of my hands. And he was being such a good boy. He sat when I said sit.”
“It’s okay,” said Poppy. He turned his attention to Rupert, covering him with hugs and kisses. “At least Rupert is clever enough to come right back to me.”
“I’ll be more careful next time,” I said.
“Why don’t you go back and get yourself that ice-cream cone?” said Poppy, sounding more like himself. “I’ll stay here with Rupert.”
That week with Poppy was the best part of last summer.
But ever since then, Poppy hasn’t let me hold Rupert’s leash. Not even once.
16
I had started asking my parents to sign me up for something for summer just after spring break. A lot of the other kids in my class went to day camps that week. Max went to a camp where he learned how to do computer animation. Selena went to an indoor skateboarding camp. I stayed at home the whole week. It got me thinking about summer.
My parents said they’d find something that worked for everyone. I figured they meant something that didn’t cost too much money. I kept asking.
“We’ll see,” they kept saying.
But now it was the first day of summer, and I still wasn’t signed up for anything. Nothing. Either they couldn’t find something or they hadn’t even looked.
“Maybe you can still sign me up for a camp or something,” I said to my dad that afternoon while Sam was napping. “Jamal, from school, is going to a robot camp. That might be cool.”
“Robots?” he said. “I didn’t know you were interested in robots.”
“I’m interested in not being bored,” I said. “Max is at camp. Mom is in Las Vegas. Sam is sleeping, and I don’t know what to do.”
“How can you already be bored?” he asked. “There’s a lot to do.”
“Like what?”
“We can watch television together,” he suggested.
“But that isn’t an activity,” I said. “That’s something to do when you have nothing to do.”
“Look, Henry,” he said. “This isn’t even the first official day of summer vacation. It’s Saturday. You’re always at home on Saturday. The first official day of summer vacation is Monday.”
“Well, I can’t help it if I’m feeling bored,” I said. “It feels like I’m being pulled by the gravitational force of nothingness.”
“The what?” he asked.
“It’s hard to describe,” I said. “I just don’t want to have a boring summer, and it isn’t looking very exciting at this point.”
“We’ll figure it out, Henry,” he said.
“What does that mean? Can’t you sign me up for something?” I begged. “What am I going to do all summer? This is serious, Dad. It’s going to be just like last summer.”
“I know it’s serious, Henry,” said my dad. “But it’s going to be different than last year. You’re older and more responsible. You’ll be able to help out with your brother.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be your job?” I asked. “Isn’t that the reason you stay home? Isn’t that what you said?”
“It is. But I could use your help,” he said. “Don’t worry, Henry. We’ll think of something.”
“Like what?”
“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “We’ll have a staycation.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s when you stay at home, but you do the kinds of things that you’d do if you were on vacation,” he said. “You don’t do the same old things that you usually do.”
“Like what?” I asked. “What exactly do you do when you’re having a staycation?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Something different. Something new. We’ll have to figure it out.”
“When’s it going to start?” I asked.
“Monday,” he said. “I’m declaring that Monday will be the official first day of our staycation.”
“What are we going to do?” I asked again.
“We’ll see,” he said.
I’d heard that before.
17
“Let’s go, kids!” called Dad.
“Where?” I asked.
“For a walk,” he said. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
“Go, go, go,” said Sam, ready to go after waking up from his nap.
“I’m in the middle of an email to Mom,” I said. “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know,” Dad said. “We’ll start walking, and we’ll see what happens.”
“Uh, okay.”
“Tell Mom I say hello,” he said. “And tell her I’m taking good care of you and Sam.”
“Okay.”
“And tell her I miss her,” he added.
“Anything else?”
“Ask if she’s seen any Elvis impersonators,” he said.
“What’s an Elvis impersonator?” I asked.
“Elvis Presley was a singer. He performed in Las Vegas for years and years,” explained Dad. “Las Vegas is full of people pretending to be Elvis. It’s a big deal down there.”
“Isn’t that kind of weird?” I asked.
He laughed. “Las Vegas is a weird place. Finish the email. Then we’ll go.”
from: Henry <[email protected]>
to: Mom
subject: Hi
Hi Mom,
How are you? I’m fine.
I went to Max’s this morning. He wasn’t a jerk. That’s good I guess.
Have you ever heard of a staycation? That’s what Dad said we’re starting on Monday. According to Dad Monday is the official first day of my summer vacation. Dad says a staycation is when you do things you don’t usually do. I’m not sure what we’re going to do but I hope it’s something cool.
How is Las Vegas? When you come back can you sign me up for something so I have something to do this summer?
Now I have to go. Dad wants to go for a walk.
I miss you, Mom.
Love,
Henry
P.S. Dad says hi and he wants me to tell you that he’s taking good care
of me and Sam and that he misses you. He also wants to know if you’ve seen Elvis.
18
Dad, Sam and I headed out for our walk. Sam was in the stroller holding Mondo, his sock monkey. Mom made Mondo for me when I was little. I gave him to Sam when he was born.
We walked down to the park. Along the way we saw some of Gretchen Thorn’s flyers taped to poles and fences and trees. There was a picture of a dog’s face on the posters. The dog looked happy, almost like it was smiling.
Diggety Dog-Walkers
It’s not just about their business
It’s also about their fun
Call Gretchen
There were tabs along the bottom of the flyer with Gretchen’s phone number. You could tear off the tabs and take them with you. It didn’t look like anyone had, though.
Dad lifted Sam into one of the baby swings. Sam loves the swings. I pushed from behind and Dad stood in front of him. Every time Sam swung forward, Dad made funny faces and funny sounds and tapped Sam’s feet.
“Buggabuggabugga!” said Dad, tapping Sam’s tiny feet.
“THHHHHHwwwwwwwwwwwing!” shrieked Sam. He says thwing instead of swing.
It was hard to tell who was having more fun, Dad or Sam.
“Buggabuggabugga!”
“TTTTHHHHHHwwwwwwwwwwwing!”
That went on for a while. It could have gone on for the rest of the afternoon, but Dad finally convinced Sam to move on to the slide. Then Dad and I took turns sliding with Sam. Sam didn’t want to go down by himself. After that, we sat on a bench and people-watched while Sam had a snack. There were lots of things to look at. There were people playing badminton and walking their dogs. There was a dad and his daughter flying a kite. There were two teenage boys playing catch.
“Did you play baseball when you were my age?” I asked, watching the boys throw the ball back and forth.
“I started when I was a little older than you,” he said. “Poppy wasn’t too big on sports, so I had to discover baseball on my own.”
“Maybe I should play,” I said. “It would be something different.”
“We could start playing catch if you want,” Dad said.
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