Always Watch Out for the Flying Potato Salad! #9

by Henry Winkler

  To Stacey always—HW

  For Reveta Bowers . . . in appreciation of all you’ve done for so many kids—LO

  For all the children at Christ Church School, St Leonards-on-Sea—SG

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  Penguin Young Readers Group

  An Imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Text copyright © 2017 by Henry Winkler and Lin Oliver Productions, Inc. Illustrations copyright © 2017 by Scott Garrett. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC. Printed in the USA.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

  ISBN 9781101995839 (pbk)

  ISBN 9781101995846 (hc)

  ISBN 9781101995853 (ebook)

  Version_1

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  CHAPTER 1

  “Remember, everyone, tomorrow is Take Your Child to Work Day,” Ms. Flowers said to us after recess. “Who’s happy about that?”

  Before I even thought about it, my hand shot up in the air.

  “Would you like to tell us why, Hank?” she asked with that nice smile of hers.

  “I’m happy because it means that we won’t have a spelling test,” I answered. “Which is great for me because I’m having trouble with the word window. I can only remember the first three letters, which are W-I-N. Win.”

  “That’s a word that has nothing to do with you, Zipper Teeth,” Nick McKelty snarled. “Because you are a total loser.”

  “Nick!” Ms. Flowers said. “We don’t insult one another in this class. Now, tell me what your plans are for Friday.”

  “My dad’s taking me to work at his new bowling alley,” McKelty said proudly.

  “Are they going to use your head to knock down the pins?” I asked.

  The class laughed. That felt good to me, but not to Ms. Flowers.

  “Hank, did you hear what I just said to Nick? We don’t insult people in this class.”

  “My brain knows that, but my tongue forgot,” I explained.

  The class laughed out loud again.

  “Well, next time, have a talk with your tongue before you let it loose,” she said. I have to admit, Ms. Flowers can be pretty funny herself.

  “Anyone else want to share what they’re doing for Take Your Child to Work Day?” she asked.

  She was kind of looking at me when she asked that.

  Please don’t call on me, I thought to myself. Call on anyone else but me. I don’t have an answer to that question.

  “Hank,” Ms. Flowers asked, “what are your plans?”

  The truth was, I didn’t have any yet. I had tried to make plans. Actually, what I made was half a plan. I had asked my dad if I could go with him to work. He said that would be weird, since he works at the dining-room table, which is only about twenty steps from my bedroom. I wouldn’t even have to get out of my pajamas.

  So then I decided that I would ask my mom if I could go work at her deli, the Crunchy Pickle. But then, as always, my brain forgot to ask her the question.

  Ms. Flowers was still standing there, waiting for my answer.

  “My plans are a surprise,” I said.

  What I didn’t say was that they were going to be a surprise even to me!

  “Oh, surprises are such fun,” she said. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

  You and me both, I thought.

  As usual, my best friend Frankie Townsend jumped in to save me.

  “I’m going uptown with my dad to Columbia University,” he said. “He’s a professor there, and he’s going to let me teach something to his class.”

  “How wonderful,” Ms. Flowers said. “What are you going to teach?”

  “I’ve decided to show them how to pull a bunny out of a hat, except I don’t have a bunny, so I’m going to use a washcloth.”

  Everyone laughed, me being the loudest. Frankie always cracks me up.

  “And I’m going to the hospital with my mom,” my other best friend Ashley Wong chimed in. “She’s going to operate on someone.”

  “I hope she’s a doctor,” Katie Sperling said. “Otherwise it would be gross.”

  “Of course she’s a doctor,” Ashley said.

  “If I watched an operation, I would faint all over the place,” Katie said.

  “I’m not going to watch,” Ashley explained. “They don’t let kids in the operating room. I’m going to hang out at the nurses’ station and help them deliver lunch trays to the patients.”

  As everyone shared their plans, my mind was racing to figure out what I could do. Why didn’t I ask my mom if I could go with her for Take Your Child to Work Day in the first place? It was such an easy question, but it just slipped out of my mind. My mind doesn’t always remember little things. Actually, it has a hard time remembering big things, too. I’m lucky I remember where I live.

  “I have a special day planned, too,” Ms. Flowers said, leaning back against her desk with a smile. “Principal Love is giving all the teachers a party. He’s calling it a Teacher Appreciation Dinner. We’re getting delicious food from the Crunchy Pickle deli.”

  “Who wants pickles for dinner?” Nick McKelty grumbled.

  “That’s just the name,” I called out. “It’s my mom’s deli, and it’s got all kinds of good food.”

  “Like pickles on toast,” he snickered. “Or French-fried pickles? Or maybe pickle juice with chocolate sauce?”

  “Eeewww,” everyone in the class said at once. Why is it that Nick McKelty is such a jerk, but can still make me feel so bad?

  “My grandpa started the deli,” I shot back. “He picked that name because he always has pickles with a sandwich. By the way, they make delicious sandwiches there.”

  “And I’m certainly looking forward to one,” Ms. Flowers said. “Tomorrow is going to be a fun day for all of us.”

  Maybe not for all of us, I thought. My dad had said no, so that left only my mom. It was her or nothing.

  CHAPTER 2

  That night at dinner, I waited until dessert to bring up the topic.

  “Mom, stay calm,” I said as she plopped down a bowl of purple goop in front of me. Whatever
was in that bowl was pretending to be pudding, but it didn’t fool me. I saw the little chunks of eggplant in there. “I have something to ask you. And here it is. Can I go to work with you tomorrow? It’s Take Your Child to Work Day.”

  “Hank, why did you wait so long to ask me?”

  “That’s a good question, Mom. And I wish I had an answer. But your answer has to be yes.”

  “Well, it’s a very busy day tomorrow,” my mom said. “But you haven’t left me much choice. I guess you can come.”

  “Mom, how come Hank gets to go to work with you and I don’t?” my little sister, Emily, demanded.

  As usual, Emily had her pet iguana, Katherine, draped around her neck. She was feeding her little bits of a disgusting brown banana, which Katherine was snapping up with her long pink tongue.

  “Are you in Ms. Flowers’s class?” I asked Emily.

  “No,” she answered.

  “Are you a second-grader?”

  “No.”

  “Is tomorrow Take Your Child to Work Day in your class?”

  “No.”

  “Well then, Emily, you’ve answered your own question,” I said. “Oh, by the way, your lizard is spitting up banana. You might want to change your sweater.”

  “Come on, Katherine,” Emily said. “Mommy’s going to wipe off your chin.”

  Emily stood up and headed toward her bedroom.

  “Maybe you haven’t noticed,” I called after her, “but your overgrown toad doesn’t have a chin.”

  “Hank,” my mom said. “That’s very hurtful. You know how close Emily and Katherine are.”

  “I was just saying the truth,” I said.

  “You know, Hank”—my dad cleared his throat like he was going to make a speech—“when you work in the deli tomorrow, you can’t say everything that pops into your mind. You have to be pleasant to the customers. You can’t be rude like you were to Emily and Katherine.”

  “No problem,” I assured him. “I’m a people person. I’m never rude to humans. I save that for reptiles.”

  “Let’s talk about what some of your responsibilities will be tomorrow,” my mom said. “Would you like to take the customers’ orders?”

  That seemed exciting and fun, until I realized that I’d have to write down their orders. And that meant spelling. I’m pretty sure I know how to spell “milk.” And I have a shot at spelling “bread” correctly. But “pastrami” . . . no way, José!

  “I was thinking, Mom, that something involving cream cheese might be good. I can fill up all those metal pans with different kinds of cream cheese and make cool swirls on top. I could even make a happy face with olives.”

  “This is a business, Hank, not an art project,” my dad grumbled.

  “You know what,” my mom said, “we don’t have to talk about this anymore tonight.”

  Boy, was I thankful for that. One of my dad’s favorite dinnertime topics is what I did wrong during the day and how I can improve.

  “Since tomorrow is so busy,” my mom said, “I’m just going to put Carlos in charge of you, Hank.” She gave me a big smile. “Don’t worry. I know he’ll find lots of interesting work for you to do.”

  That sounded great. I went to bed thinking about all the fun I’d have getting to act like a real grown-up. In my mind, I made a list of about a million fun things I could do in the deli. All you have to do is turn the page to see a few of them.

  CHAPTER 4

  I woke up early the next morning, all excited. I brushed my teeth. I brushed my hair and even put some goop in it like a grown-up. I looked in the mirror to make sure that all the hairs on my head were lying down. They were cooperating. Then I picked out a pair of socks that actually matched. And to finish off the grown-up look, I chose a shirt that had no trace of yesterday’s taco lunch on it. When I came out for breakfast, Emily laughed.

  “You look like a mini-Dad,” she said. “Except more dorky.”

  “You look like a maxi-lizard,” I shot back. “Except more slimy.”

  “For your information, Hank, lizards aren’t slimy,” Emily replied. “They are shiny because they have natural oil in their scales.”

  “No breakfast for me, Mom,” I called out. “I just lost my appetite.”

  My mom handed me a slice of toast with peanut butter, anyway.

  “You’ve got to have something,” she said. “You need energy for the busy day ahead.”

  My dad came rushing into the living room, pulling on his jacket.

  “Let’s move, folks,” he said. “We’re running late.”

  We all gathered our things, headed out the door, and got into the elevator. When we got outside, my dad and Emily headed right to school. My mom and I went the opposite way, toward the Crunchy Pickle.

  The place was already buzzing when we got there. Lots of people were sitting in the booths, having breakfast. Some people were waiting in line for an empty table. There was even a crowd at the counter where people were ordering a roll and coffee to take to their offices.

  My mom looked around the deli. I could see that she was feeling great that we had so many customers. When she first took over the Crunchy Pickle from Papa Pete, she wasn’t sure she would be good at running a deli. But wow, was she wrong.

  “We’ve got to get busy, Hank,” she said. “It’s the breakfast rush.”

  “Okay, Mom. I’m ready. What do we do first?”

  “I’m going to go wait on the customers at the counter. I’ll put Carlos in charge of you. Come on, he’s over at the grill.”

  My mom took my hand, and we made our way across the crowd, saying good morning to everyone as we passed. We found Carlos at the grill, flipping turkey sausages. They sizzled on the grill and smelled delicious. I wanted one, but I knew it wasn’t right to eat the customers’ food.

  Carlos, who has worked at the deli since he was a teenager, turned around to say hi. He had a lot of goop in his hair, too. He used it to make his hair stand up in tall spikes, which poked through his hairnet. He must have seen me checking out his hair.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Little Man,” he said, turning around so I could see the back of his hair, too. “You’re thinking my hair is as cool as an iceberg in winter. I couldn’t agree more. The reason it’s so cool is that I have a hot date with my girl tonight.”

  “Oh no,” I said. “If it’s going to be hot, you should take off your sweater.”

  Carlos stared at me, then burst out laughing.

  “You have a lot to learn, Little Man,” he said.

  “Speaking of which,” my mom said, “Hank is going to be spending the day with us. I’d like you to put him to work.”

  “Sure thing, Mrs. Z.,” Carlos said. “It’s hopping in here, and we can sure use extra help.”

  “Good, then I’ll leave Hank in your hands.”

  She gave me a quick kiss, which I hoped no one saw, and hurried off into the crowd of people.

  “My mom still kisses me every time I leave the house,” Carlos said.

  “I ask her not to kiss me in public,” I said.

  “Moms are like that,” Carlos said, taking the turkey sausages off the grill and sliding them onto a plate. “Come on, Little Man, we’ve got a lot of breakfast orders to fill.”

  “What’s first?” I asked him with a big smile.

  “I’m going to scramble up a pile of eggs to go with these sausages,” he said. “Why don’t you head over to Table Seven and take their order? They’ve been waiting a long time. They look hungry.”

  Carlos handed me a pad of paper and a pencil, and hurried off into the kitchen. The second he was gone, the smile disappeared from my face. I stared at the pad and pencil, and sighed.

  Wouldn’t you know it? The one thing I knew I couldn’t do was the one thing I was asked to do first.

  I took a deep breath and headed ove
r to Table Seven. Three men were sitting there, holding menus and talking. One had a mustache, one was bald, and one had a ponytail. I stood in front of them with my hands shaking. I hoped with all my might that they were only hungry for something I could spell.

  CHAPTER 5

  I gave the three men my most grown-up smile.

  “Hi, I’m Hank,” I said. “I’m new here.”

  The man with the mustache looked up from his menu.

  “Kind of short for a waiter, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “For a second-grader, I’m pretty average,” I answered. “Heather Payne is the tallest girl in our class, but most of us are this size. Now, what would you like?”

  Mustache Man sighed and shut his menu. “I’ll have two eggs over easy, bacon crispy, fruit, no potatoes, and an English muffin, hold the butter,” he said.

  My ears nearly fell off my head. How was I supposed to write any of that down? I froze. I couldn’t even write the word “egg.” All that came out of my pencil was an “e.”

  Okay, Hank, I told myself. Don’t panic. You’ll just have to remember their order. You can do that.

  The bald man put his menu down and leaned forward.

  “Blueberry waffle, hot raspberry syrup, extra melted butter, and a turkey sausage.”

  I could feel his words going in through my ears, but they raced around my brain like a pinball. I looked over at the guy with the ponytail, hoping that he was not hungry. But oh was he ever! He wanted lunch for breakfast.

  “I’ll have your cheeseburger deluxe, extra pickles, Russian dressing on a toasted bun.”

  Deluxe? I’ve never even heard that word before. And why would you want to see a Russian person dressing?

  The bald man flashed me a smile.

  “Look at you, smart kid,” he said. “You didn’t even have to write any of our order down.”