The Amazing Wilmer Dooley

by Fowler DeWitt

  “I was going to ask about your exhibit,” said Roxie to Wilmer. He hadn’t seen her approach, tape recorder in hand. “But I see you’re busy.”

  “No, wait,” said Wilmer, trying to release his hand from Harriet’s, but her grip was too strong. Roxie stomped away. Wilmer watched as she melted into the crowd, interviewing other competitors. He wanted to chase after her.

  But first, where were Claudius and Vlad? They had been standing right here a moment ago. They must have slinked away again. Probably off planning some horrible deed. Wilmer needed to be on his toes around them. Although it was hard for him to get up on his toes, since Harriet was standing on his foot.

  He glanced at Claudius and Vlad’s large unopened black box. Now was his chance. He could open it and peer inside. Maybe it hid a clue to their secret scheme! But touching someone else’s science exhibit was against every science rule ever written, and a bunch more that should be written.

  The loudspeaker squawked, removing any thoughts Wilmer had of box-peeking. In fact, for a moment it removed all his thoughts completely, scrubbing his mind clean like a whiteboard eraser. He had just enough sense to release Harriet’s hand—she also seemed stunned by the noise—fumble for his earplugs, and thrust them into his ears as an announcement rang out.

  “Attention, dear, dear students. Please make your way to dinner,” said the voice, as muffled and unrecognizable as before. “And always sing happy songs to lost rabbits.” A loud screech followed and the announcement was over.

  Wilmer scratched his chin. He wasn’t aware that lost rabbits liked to be sung to, but it was good to know. More importantly, it was time for dinner, and he was starving.

  As he put his earplugs back in his pocket, Wilmer noticed many kids holding their ears from the deafening screech. Ernie was wincing—apparently he had very sensitive ears. “Are you okay?” Wilmer asked.

  Ernie nodded, but slowly. “I think so. My brain feels a little fuzzy, that’s all. It must be because I haven’t played video games for so long.”

  “But you played with your iNoise twenty minutes ago.”

  Ernie shuddered with a look of pure horror. “Twenty minutes? It’s a miracle I’ve lasted this long.”

  Wilmer’s mind wandered back to the announcements. Ernie said his brain had been fuzzy. Wilmer had felt the same thing. Harriet was shaking her head as if to clear it. And where were Claudius and Vlad?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  TONIGHT’S MENU:

  WeinerBUZZZZ! hot dogs

  Chili dogs

  Corn dogs

  Coney dogs

  Yo, What-Up Dawgs

  Chicken nuggets

  Mac and cheese

  French fries

  Cheesy fries

  Extra-cheesy fries

  Extra-extra-cheesy fries with cheese dip

  Chips (five kinds!)

  Soda (twelve flavors including one can of diet!)

  Carrot sticks (three per table)

  Candy bars, ice cream, cakes, giant mounds of sugar

  Other things that are bad for you

  Rows of long tables filled the dining room. On them were giant wooden bowls crammed with glowing yellow WeinerBUZZZZ! hot dogs, desserts, many other assorted bad-for-you-but-delicious foods and, all alone, a small dish with three carrot sticks. Kids filled their plates with near-hysteric excitement. Wilmer eyed the carrots.

  Wilmer and Ernie hadn’t even sat down and Ernie already had two hot dogs in his mouth. A bit of bun stuck out of his slightly glowing yellow lips, and breadcrumbs dotted his chin. Wilmer shook his head.

  They grabbed empty seats at the end of a table. Roxie neared, and Wilmer dreamed she might sit next to him. He cleared this throat. He crossed his fingers and three toes in hope. He practiced saying, “Roxie, you look lovely,”—but then Harriet hurried past and plopped herself down abruptly. “Mind if I sit here?”

  “Well, actually—”

  “Good.” And that was that. Roxie sat across from Wilmer. She looked disappointed.

  Harriet stared at the food on the table with a frown. “Processed meats. Salty foods. What I’d do for some spinach right now,” she muttered.

  “Really?” exclaimed Wilmer. “I like spinach too.”

  Harriet stared deeply into Wilmer’s eyes. “I know.”

  Wilmer coughed and looked away. Had it suddenly become very warm in this room? “So. Roxie,” he said after clearing his throat. “Are you going to give a special Mumpley Musings report this weekend?”

  “I hope so. I looked for Mr. Sneed but couldn’t find him. I’ll need to track him down.”

  “Do you need any help?” Wilmer started to say, but he only got as far as “Do—” when Harriet grabbed his hand and squeezed.

  “So! Wilmy!” she interrupted. “I love what you’ve done with your hair. What do you call that style anyway?”

  “Um, moplike?” guessed Wilmer. He had never considered his hair anything but a disaster.

  Harriet broke into a loud laugh. “Oh, Wilmy! You crack me up!”

  Wilmer caught Roxie rolling her eyes. Maybe she was a little jealous? He smiled just a tiny bit. He had never made any girl jealous before. He liked the feeling. Maybe Harriet’s attention should be encouraged.

  “Here’s a funny joke,” said Wilmer. He cleared his throat. He had read a series of jokes in one of his weekly science magazines and had memorized them, hoping to impress Roxie with his brilliant wit. “What did the glass slide say to the microscope?”

  “I don’t know,” said Harriet, hanging on every word.

  “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

  Harriet broke into giggles. “Oh, stop! You’re making my eyes water!” She wiped a stream of tears from her cheeks.

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” snapped Roxie, staring at Harriet and folding her arms. “Why would a slide be looking at a microscope? The microscope should be the one saying the punch line.”

  Wilmer scratched his head. “Yeah, I think I reversed it. Sorry.”

  “Oh, no,” said Harriet. “Your way is so much funnier.”

  A small grunt spilled from Roxie’s mouth and a satisfied grin broke over Wilmer’s. Harriet beamed. Ernie was too busy stuffing his face with potato chips to pay attention to what anyone was saying.

  To Wilmer’s surprise, Vlad and Claudius sat down at their table. Vlad sat directly next to Roxie.

  “We’re supposed to sit with our schoolmates,” explained Claudius, eyeing Wilmer. “Don’t think we’re sitting here because we like you.”

  “Where have you guys been?” asked Wilmer, his brain spinning with suspicion.

  Vlad chuckled and pulled his earlobe. Claudius did the same.

  Wilmer narrowed his eyes.

  “I hear you’re transferring to Mumpley this year,” Roxie said to Vlad, shattering the silence like a dropped glass vial. She leaned toward him closely, a little too closely for Wilmer’s taste. “Are you excited? Maybe we can hang out next year. You have a wonderful smirk. And I love your bow tie.”

  Now it was Wilmer’s turn to be jealous. Vlad did not have a wonderful smirk. And bow ties were stupid. Why was she suddenly paying so much attention to him, anyway?

  Roxie was now engrossed in full conversation with Claudius’s cousin, nodding her head and smiling at everything he said. Fine, let her pay attention to him. Wilmer didn’t need Roxie. He was amazing, after all.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” asked Ernie, who was now on his fourth hot dog, or maybe his sixth.

  “I guess so,” said Wilmer, grabbing a carrot. But that wasn’t going to fill him up. He knew vegetables are useful for improving the senses—carrots in particular have beta-carotene and vitamin A, both of which help to boost vision—but hot dogs have protein, and that’s important too. Protein helps build muscle, fights against illnesses, and keeps nails strong, skin fresh, and bones healthy. Wilmer reluctantly grabbed a WeinerBUZZZZ!

  As he chewed, Wilmer shuffled a little in his seat and felt a slight bulge in h
is pocket. He didn’t remember putting anything in his pants. He reached in and pulled out what looked like a small Hershey’s Kiss candy, except it was wrapped in orange foil. Attached to it was a small note:

  Here’s a special kiss for a special boy. Love, Mom

  Ernie grabbed the candy out of his hand. “I’ll take that, Wilmer-Poo,” he said with a laugh. Before Wilmer could object, Ernie unwrapped the treat and flicked it into his mouth.

  He immediately spit the candy on the ground. “Yech! What was that?” He chugged a large glass of glowing GrapeBUZZZZ! soda.

  “One of my mom’s tuna-oregano kisses with a splash of prune juice,” said Wilmer with a shiver. “Don’t worry. The taste should go away in a few hours.”

  Ernie quickly drank another glass of soda.

  “Interesting.” That’s the word that popped into Mrs. Valveeta Padgett’s mind as she surveyed the dining room. “Interesting,” indeed.

  She sat at a rectangular table on the side of the room. The table was on a slightly raised stage suitable for a guest of honor. It allowed her, Elvira, Dr. Dill, and some of the other chaperones to keep a watchful eye on the children. Not that Mrs. Padgett had an interest in watching children. At least, not usually.

  Mr. Sneed’s chair was empty—the man seemed to run around with wires in his pocket all the time. He must be busy fixing things. Mrs. Padgett looked at the walls and shook off the unsettling feeling that they were shifting. It seemed like a miracle that the entire building didn’t collapse.

  Still, that’s not what was interesting, indeed. It was Wilmer and his crew that drew her attention. Claudius and his cousin had come in late, with mischievous snickers and furtive glances. If they were up to something, no doubt it would be bad news for Wilmer Dooley, which meant good news for Mrs. Padgett. She wished only the worst for him.

  But Mrs. Padgett couldn’t linger in the dining room for too long. She needed to finish her script for the next episode of Padgett! Her segment comparing mah-jongg dragon tiles to amoebas wasn’t going to write itself (although even if it could, it would never write as well as Mrs. Padgett).

  Elvira excused herself from the table and joined Mr. Sneed in the corner. They huddled. This had not been the first time Mrs. Padgett had spied her sister whispering with that man. They were way too cozy and secretive. Why, those two had been whispering in a closet yesterday! There was no reason to whisper in a closet unless it was a library closet and you were trying not to disturb librarians.

  Throughout the room kids were talking loudly. Some yelled. Two boys threw French fries at each other! Mrs. Padgett stared, her eyes slits. If only kids were more like robots—subservient, trouble-free robots.

  She ate the last of her tuna salad (specially requested and prepared just for her), anxious to get to work and away from the boisterous kids.

  It was almost like school, but worse. At least school was over at 2:15 p.m. Here, there was no escape from them until Sunday.

  Elvira returned to the table. “Kids can be quite uncontrollable,” said Mrs. Padgett.

  “If only we could find a way to control them.” Elvira flashed a surprisingly wicked grin. “To control them all.”

  Mrs. Padgett blinked. Now this was the Elvira she knew. Maybe she hadn’t changed so much after all.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Mrs. Dooley’s Five Worst Homemade Treats

  A list by Wilmer Dooley

  1. Prune sponges

  2. Kidney-bean éclairs

  3. Used-tennis-ball ice cream (with netting)

  4. Sardine-flaked pastry cups

  5. Jumbo pork-flavored, onion-infused cherry fizzes with fermented olive chunks

  Wilmer and his friends finished eating. Ernie drank nine glasses of grape soda and still complained that the inside of his mouth tasted like tuna and oregano. Harriet laughed at twelve jokes from Wilmer, although she might have been faking it a little. Or maybe Wilmer was really funny. She nearly fell off the chair when Wilmer told this whopper:

  “Why did the botanist agree with Carl Linnaeus’s system of classification? He hoped he was right,” which was an obscure joke based on famed eighteenth-century botanist John Hope. Harriet laughed so hard that some soda flew out of her nose and landed on Roxie’s shirt.

  Wilmer suspected that might not have been a total accident.

  Despite the lavish attention Harriet paid him, Wilmer kept glancing at Roxie. He couldn’t help it. She seemed awfully interested in Vlad, nodding as he talked, and staring at him like one gawks at a dividing amoeba. She complimented his bow tie. He showed her how to sneer. If only she would pay that much attention to Wilmer.

  Instead, she entirely ignored him.

  “Roxie, are you talking to a lot of kids about their exhibits?” asked Wilmer.

  “Tell me more about your bow ties,” said Roxie to Vlad.

  Wilmer looked away, right at Harriet, who was staring at him and purring, “You are so amazing.”

  Across the table, Vlad abruptly scowled, tugged at his ear, whispered to Claudius, and stood up. Claudius scowled too, tugged his ear, and also leaped from his seat. They both scurried off without another word.

  Where were they going? Was this part of their plan? Wilmer considered following them—he needed to learn more!—but then the loudspeaker squealed again. Wilmer’s mind fogged. He had just enough sense to quickly plunge his earplugs in place.

  The muffled voice from the speakers instructed the kids to go up to bed, since tomorrow would be a long day, “And be kind and friendly to earwigs.”

  “Who would ever be mean to an earwig?” asked Wilmer. He couldn’t deny that it was good advice. Earwigs were friends to humans. They attacked mole crickets and chinch bugs, which were two nasty insects.

  After the loudspeaker croaked out its final squawk, Wilmer put his earplugs safely back into his pocket. “We should go upstairs, Ernie.”

  Ernie stared at Wilmer blankly.

  “Ernie? Hello? Earth to Ernie?”

  Roxie also stared blankly. As did Harriet. Wilmer’s heart jumped with worry. But then Roxie blinked. So did Harriet, and a moment later, Ernie blinked too.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Wilmer.

  “What’s wrong with what?” asked Ernie.

  “You were staring blankly,” said Wilmer.

  “No, I wasn’t,” said Ernie. “But we should go upstairs.”

  “That’s what I just said.”

  “No, you didn’t. You’re imagining things.”

  Wilmer didn’t want to argue. Maybe Ernie was right. Claudius and Vlad had put him on edge, that was all. He just needed some rest. Everything was fine.

  After Wilmer wished the group a good night, Harriet broke out in tears and cried, “I’ll think of you every waking moment, and also my sleeping ones!”

  Wilmer smiled awkwardly. As he rose to head upstairs, he noticed something bulging from his shirt pocket. He fished out a small peppermint-striped candy. A note from his mom was twisted around it:

  For the sweetest boy I know!

  Wilmer groaned. That was so like his mom. Although he was only gone for a weekend, she couldn’t resist leaving him constant reminders of home. Mom needed to relax.

  Before Wilmer could examine the candy more closely, Ernie snatched it away, tore off the wrapper, and popped it in his mouth.

  “No, wait—” cautioned Wilmer.

  Almost instantly Ernie gagged, spit out the candy, and moaned, “Water! I need water!” He sprinted away.

  Wilmer picked the discarded sweet off the table and gave it a sniff. “Just like I thought,” he remarked to Roxie and Harriet. “One of Mom’s homemade five-alarm jalapeño-and-chili-powder jaw-droppers. Poor Ernie. Last time Mom made them, I had nightmares for weeks.”

  Upstairs, Ernie ran his pepper-inflamed tongue under the bathroom faucet while Wilmer sat on the bed, thinking of the wide expanse of lawn that surrounded the hotel, and the endless rows of trees beyond it. This was a strange location for a hotel. If anything went wrong, th
ey were dozens of miles from civilization. The phones didn’t work, Ernie’s iNoise got no reception, and they were cut off from the rest of the world.

  But what could go wrong? Wilmer was starting to worry, just like his mom. He laughed at himself. As long as Wilmer kept an eye on Claudius and Vlad, everything would go smoothly. At least, he hoped it would.

  CHAPTER TEN

  That’s better.

  People always say to trust your instincts. Bears instinctively know how to hibernate. Skunks instinctively know how to stink. And I instinctively know Claudius and Vlad are up to dirty tricks.

  What are they plotting? My instincts can’t tell me that.

  But science is based on fact, not instinct. That’s what separates scientists from bears and skunks. Well, that and fur and anal scent glands.

  So what do I know, other than that Claudius and Vlad are hatching a twisted scheme to ruin everything?

  I must look at the facts!

  Fact: Vlad wears bow ties. I can’t think of why that’s evil. But maybe?

  Fact: Claudius sneers quite a bit. Evil people sneer! Ergo, Claudius is evil!

  Fact: They keep disappearing every time the loudspeaker goes off. Coincidence?

  And what’s with those messages, anyway? They’re always ending with some piece of advice. Isn’t that a little strange? Helpful, sure. But strange.

  More importantly, what does Roxie see in Vlad? I’m amazing, not him! Harriet says I’m handsome and funny and that my teeth sparkle like pearls. She’s really smart, so she must know what she’s talking about.

  If only Roxie could see how wonderful I am. She just needs to observe!

  Like I do. Always.

  Signing off,

  At breakfast the next morning, Harriet pounced on the seat next to Wilmer. “Good morning, Wilmy,” she sang.

  Wilmer didn’t look at her at first. He was too busy frowning at the piles of greasy bacon, doughnuts, pancakes, and sausage patties on the table.

  Oh, wait. He spied one grape tomato on a plate. He nabbed it.