Wolfie and Fly
Page 1
Text copyright © 2017 by Cary Fagan
Illustrations copyright © 2017 by Zoe Si
Tundra Books, a division of Random House of Canada Limited, a Penguin Random House Company
All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the publisher—or, in case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, a licence from the Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency—is an infringement of the copyright law.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Fagan, Cary, author
Wolfie and Fly / Cary Fagan ; illustrated by Zoe Si.
(Wolfie and Fly ; 1)
Issued in electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-101-91820-3 (hardback).—978-1-101-91821-0 (epub)
I. Si, Zoe, illustrator II. Title.
PS8561.A375W65 2017 jC813′.54 C2016-900962-9
C2016-900963-7
Published simultaneously in the United States of America by Tundra Books of Northern New York, a division of Random House of Canada Limited, a Penguin Random House Company
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016933013
Edited by Samantha Swenson
eBook design adapted from printed book design by Scott Richardson
The artwork in this book was rendered in ink and watercolor.
www.penguinrandomhouse.ca
v4.1
a
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1: Thanks, but No Thanks
Chapter 2: Bigger
Chapter 3: The Right Thing
Chapter 4: Do You See What I See?
Chapter 5: Something Out There
Chapter 6: Taking a Swim
Chapter 7: Flying Breakfast!
Chapter 8: Floating Furniture
Chapter 9: Lucky
Acknowledgments
To my friend Anisha Neron
—CF
For Mom, Dad and Eevee—
my first and biggest fans
—ZS
CHAPTER 1
Thanks, but No Thanks
Renata Wolfman wore the same thing every day. She wore a white T-shirt, overalls and sneakers. She never wore anything else.
One Saturday morning, her mom asked, “Renata, how about going clothes shopping today?”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Renata answered. She was curled up in a comfy chair, reading a book on sea turtles.
“Wouldn’t you like something different to wear for a change? Something pretty?”
“Not particularly.”
“Hey,” said her dad. “Why don’t we all go shopping? You can buy whatever clothes you want.”
“Whatever I want?”
“That’s right.”
“Okay,” Renata said. So she went shopping with her parents and bought three new white T-shirts and two new pairs of overalls. She put them away in her closet and picked up her book on sea turtles again.
Sea turtles, she thought, were a lot more interesting than clothes.
Renata didn’t have any friends.
Not even one.
Did this bother her? No, it did not. Renata didn’t want any friends. She thought that other kids were annoying. Other kids whined or talked too much or told stupid jokes or wanted to play boring games. Other kids weren’t interested in the same things as Renata. They just got in the way.
Friends? thought Renata. Phooey!
“But everybody needs friends,” said her mom on the following Saturday.
“Not me,” Renata said. She didn’t bother to look up from the book on sharks she was reading. She crunched on some dry cereal. She drank some milk from her glass. Renata liked to keep things separate.
“It isn’t healthy to have no friends,” her mom insisted.
“I’m perfectly healthy,” Renata said. “Friends have germs. Their noses drip. They cough all over you. I’m much healthier without them.”
“I have an idea,” said her dad. “How about inviting over that nice boy from next door. What’s his name?”
“Livingston,” said her mom. “Livingston Flott. I think that’s an excellent idea. What do you say, Renata?”
“We don’t have anything in common,” Renata said.
“You’re both human beings,” said her mom. “And his parents say he’s very smart. And creative.”
Renata groaned. “Creative people like to make things up. I prefer real things. I prefer facts.”
“I know you do,” her dad said. “But it would be nice to invite Livingston over. I don’t think he has many friends, either. Renata, are you even listening?”
“Ocean life is just so fascinating,” Renata said, turning the page of her book.
Her parents gave up. They went off to discuss new wallpaper or whatever it was parents did in their spare time. Renata smiled. Once again she had gotten her way.
On the next Saturday afternoon, her mom said, “Let’s go, Renata. We don’t want to be late.”
“Late for what?” Renata asked. She was examining one of her sneakers. She wondered if it would be possible to make your own sneakers. Out of duct tape, maybe? Duct tape was good for just about anything.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. Today is Uncle Bob’s retirement party. He finished his very last day of work at the Perfecto Toaster Company.”
“Your uncle is going to barbecue steaks,” said her father.
“I don’t eat meat,” Renata said.
“Since when?” asked her mom.
“Since this morning. I read a book on being a vegetarian.”
“Then you can have toast,” her dad said. “Uncle Bob has every model of toaster the company makes.”
“I’m kind of busy,” Renata said.
“Sometimes,” her dad said, “you just have to do what you’re told.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Do you hear your father?” said her mom. “You’re coming and that’s an order.”
Her parents left without her.
Renata nodded with satisfaction. She had the house all to herself, just as she liked. The question was what to do first.
CHAPTER 2
Bigger
Renata liked to make things.
She was good at it. And she liked making them all by herself. That way she didn’t have to “cooperate” with others, the way adults always insisted. She didn’t have to “compromise” or “respect other people’s opinions.” She could do things just the way she wanted.
“I like my own opinions, thank you very much,” she said out loud.
In her room was the model of the Golden Gate Bridge that she had made out of Popsicle sticks. It had taken three hundred and twelve sticks and four bottles of glue.
In the bathroom was her model rainforest. She had stuck a bunch of miniature plastic trees onto an old tea tray. She had made vines out of strips of green plastic cut from a garbage bag. When she took a shower, she brought the rainforest in with her.
On the back porch was the catapult she had made out of a plastic cup, a broken piece of hockey stick and a rubber band. She used it to toss peanuts at the squirrels.
Renata scratched her head. Scratching her head helped her think. All these other projects were small. Maybe it was time for something bigger. And then she remembered the refrigerator box.
Her parents had bought a new refrigerator. She had a hard time understanding why a new refrigerator got them so excited. “Look!” her dad had said. “It makes ice cubes!” “Amazing,” her mom had sung. “It keeps lettuce crisp!” What interested
Renata was the big cardboard box that the refrigerator had come in. She had asked her parents not to throw it out.
The box was in the basement. Renata went down and then pushed it up the stairs. On the side was the name of the refrigerator brand, Super Cool. Getting through doorways wasn’t easy, but at last she pushed it into the middle of the living room. Of course she had to move aside the coffee table and a bunch of other stuff.
She lay down beside the box. Lying down was also good for helping her think.
I know! she thought. A submarine!
A submarine like the ones that marine biologists used to study the ocean. The box was definitely big enough.
First of all, she needed a porthole to be able to see out. A porthole was a round window. But where would she find one of those? Then Renata remembered that the popcorn popper had a clear plastic dome on it. After you made popcorn, you could use the plastic dome as a bowl. Perfect!
She went into the kitchen to get the dome and then looked in a drawer for a pair of scissors. It wasn’t easy to cut a hole in the box; she had to stick one point of the scissors through the thick cardboard and then use it like a saw, moving slowly around in a circle. Then she put the bowl over the hole and stuck down the edges with good old duct tape. She crawled into the box. Yup, she now had a nice porthole to look out.
Next up: a control panel.
In her closet, Renata kept a plastic bucket of discarded stuff—old switches and dials and buttons; the insides of broken radios and electronic games. She dragged the bucket inside the box and used glue and tape to make a control panel on one side. She thought it looked pretty good. She went back to her closet and found the screen of a toy television and taped it on the wall across from the control panel.
Hmm, thought Renata. Close.
But something was missing. Once more she went to her closet, but this time she came out with a plastic steering wheel. The wheel had once belonged to a dump truck that was big enough to sit on. She wasn’t sure if submarines had steering wheels, but she couldn’t think of anything else to make it go where she wanted.
Something was still missing. Of course—a propeller! She went into the kitchen and got two big wooden spoons from a drawer. She lined them up facing in opposite directions and taped them together. Then she attached it to the back.
Renata sat inside the box. “Not bad,” she said. “Not bad at all.” In fact, it looked so good that she almost wished she could show it to someone. But of course that would mean having a friend over, and a friend was nothing but a pain in the neck. By herself, she could do whatever she wanted with it. And what she wanted to do was sit in the box and read another book on undersea life.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
The doorbell rang. Renata hated to be interrupted when she was working. Besides, she wasn’t supposed to open the door to strangers. She ignored it.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
Such an annoying sound! She crawled backward out of the box and went to the front window. She peeked through the curtains.
Oh no, she thought. Not Livingston Flott! He was going to spoil everything.
CHAPTER 3
The Right Thing
“Let me in! Let me in!”
Livingston Flott banged his fist on the door. He rang the doorbell again.
Renata opened the mail slot to speak through it. “Stop ringing the doorbell! And then go away!”
“You have to let me in,” cried Livingston. “My big brother’s after me!”
“What did you do?”
“We were playing catch with his new baseball. I threw the ball and it went under your house. Then I couldn’t get it out. And now he wants revenge. He says he’s going to smash my guitar. You have to open up!”
Renata growled. This was exactly why she was glad to be an only child. No brothers or sisters to mess everything up. She couldn’t just leave him there, so she opened the door. Livingston rushed in, locking the door behind him. He panted as he caught his breath. His guitar was hanging from a strap around his shoulder. It was plastic and had only four strings.
“How long are you planning to stay?” Renata asked. She hoped he would say five minutes.
“Just an hour or two. By then my brother will have stopped looking for me. Thanks a lot, Wolfie, you saved my life.”
“Wolfie?”
“That’s what kids at school call you. Actually, they call you the Lone Wolf. Because you stay by yourself at recess. But I think Wolfie is nicer. Do you like it?”
Renata mulled it over. She had never had a nickname before, probably because she didn’t have any friends. She couldn’t decide if she liked it or not.
“At school everybody calls you Fly,” she said.
“I know. Because I buzz around and annoy people. But I like to look at it in a positive way. I mean, a fly is persistent. A fly is a survivor. You can call me Fly if you say it in a nice way.”
Renata didn’t plan to call him anything. She wanted him to go home. She saw him shift his guitar from his shoulder to his hands. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m going to do something to thank you for saving me. I’m going to make up a song for you. Making up songs is my specialty. I’m a genius at it. I’ve already made up about a zillion.”
“I don’t want a song.”
“Here goes.” Livingston began to strum his guitar and sing.
Wolfie, oh Wolfie,
you did the right thing.
You opened the door and you
let me run in.
’Cause I was being chased by one of
my kin
Who was going to poke me with a stick
or a pin.
And with a big brother you never
can win.
So I came to your door and made
a big din…
“That’s enough, thank you very much,” Renata said. “Can you go on like that forever?”
“Pretty much.”
Renata looked at Livingston. He was short and chubby. He had weird hair that stuck out in all directions. He waved his hands all over the place and never stopped talking.
“Are you sure you can’t go now?” she asked.
“If I even step outside, my brother will see me. He’ll turn me into chopped liver.”
“You could go to a friend’s house.”
Livingston nodded. “True. And I’ve got lots of friends. It’s just that they’re really busy. And they never answer their phones. So I don’t see them too much. Actually, never.”
Livingston took a step past her into the living room.
“Don’t go in there!” she said. But it was too late.
“Is that a refrigerator box?”
“No.”
“It is! You’re so lucky! Did you put that porthole in it? What is it supposed to be, a submarine?”
“Maybe.”
“Neat! Do you have a control panel inside?”
“Of course I do.”
“Let me see.”
“Okay, but don’t touch anything.”
He crawled through the back flaps of the box. “Sweet!” came his muffled voice. “You really know what you’re doing.”
“Okay, come out now.”
Livingston crawled out backward. He stood up. “It’s almost perfect, Wolfie,” he said.
“What do you mean, ‘almost’?”
“You’ve got a propeller, sure. But you could use some boosters.”
“Boosters?”
“Sure. Have you got any toilet paper rolls?”
“I have some in my paper-craft bin.”
“Bring them here. All of them. And some glue.”
Renata bit her lip. She had never allowed people to interfere with her projects. On the other hand, boosters did sound like a good idea. She decided that he could help her attach the boosters and then go home.
She fetched the toilet paper rolls and together they stuck them along the bottom edge of the box. They looked like a row of mini-rockets. Ren
ata had to admit they were a good addition.
“Thanks. You probably want to go home now, right?” she asked.
“Have you got any food supplies?” he asked.
“Food supplies?”
“Sure. Exploring the ocean is going to make a person hungry.”
Renata scratched her head. It probably was a good idea to bring some food. So she went into the kitchen, with Livingston following behind. She got out her school lunch box and put in a juice box.
Livingston added a second juice box.
She put in an apple.
Livingston put in a second apple.
Whatever she put in—a packet of trail mix, a cookie—he doubled it. She didn’t say anything but just went back to the living room and put the lunch box into the sub.
“What about unforeseen events?” he asked.
“Unforeseen events?”
“You know, things you don’t expect. You need some extra equipment with you. Better safe than sorry.”
Renata gave him a look. But she went into her room and came back carrying a plastic bin. “There’s all kinds of junk in here,” she said.
“Perfect. Put it in.”
She slid it into the box.
“Great,” he said, nodding hard. “So when are we leaving?”
“What do you mean, we?”
CHAPTER 4
Do You See What I See?
“Aw, come on, Wolfie,” pleaded Livingston. “Didn’t I help? Why, this thing would sink to the bottom without me. Now it’ll really move through the ocean.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s a cardboard box. It’s not actually in the ocean.”
“Sure, I know that. It’s just pretending.”
“I don’t pretend, Fly,” she said, using his nickname for the first time. “This is for educational purposes, not make-believe.”