“Actually, I was thinking about if I’m going to have to listen to baby music all day long, because I can’t listen to ‘Wheels on the Bus’ twenty-four seven. That is completely unacceptable.”
“Maybe he’ll like the one about the old lady who swallowed a spider,” Ashley said cheerfully. “That’s got a better beat.”
Frankie didn’t respond. He wasn’t taking the news well. Ashley and I just kind of stood there, waiting for him to say something. Suddenly, he shot up off the couch and bolted for the door.
“I’ve got to go talk to my mom,” he said. “This is weird. Why didn’t she tell me about the baby?”
“Because parents are weird,” I said. “They never do what you’re expecting them to do.”
“Yeah,” Ashley agreed. “Your mom is probably planning to break the news in a surprise way. I’ll bet she’s planned a fantastic dinner with all your favorite foods.”
“Maybe even party hats,” I added.
“And then when she brings out the dessert, which would be both lemon meringue pie and your other favorite, butterscotch pudding, each with a candle stuck in them, she’ll tell you the exciting news herself.”
“Yeah,” Frankie said. “This is about as exciting as a screen door in a submarine.”
I laughed really hard and loud. Much harder and louder than the situation required. But can you blame me? I was trying to make him feel good.
“And listen, man,” I said. “You’ve got to act surprised when she tells you. Otherwise, we’re going to get in trouble for spilling the beans.”
Frankie turned and headed for the door. Suddenly, he stopped when his eyes landed on one of the storage shelves that was stacked with old furniture. I followed his eyes to see what he was staring at. It was a white cradle with folded pink blankets inside. I remember that cradle. It was Emily’s, and my parents kept it in their room, next to their bed, when she was a baby. Even though I was really little when she was born, I remember hating the fact that she got to sleep in their room, and I had to stay all alone in my big-boy room.
That cradle was definitely the wrong thing for Frankie to see at the wrong time. I had to do something.
“Hey, listen, Frankie, remember you still have us. Ashley and I are right there for you, no matter what.”
“Even if you get ignored a little at first, we’ll never ignore you,” Ashley added.
“Yeah, we’re only a phone call away,” I added.
“One short elevator ride,” Ashley said.
“When the baby’s puking or pooping or has gas, you can always stay at my house,” I said. “My room is your room.”
“Thanks, guys,” Frankie said. “But I can’t talk about this anymore. I need time to think.”
“It’s almost dinnertime, anyway,” Ashley said, glancing at her pink rhinestone watch. “Let’s all meet down here after homework, say at seven o’clock.”
Frankie just nodded and headed for the elevator. Ashley and I watched him walk down the hall. He didn’t have that Frankie Townsend bounce to his step. As a matter of fact, I had never seen him walk that slowly.
“It’ll be okay,” Ashley said to me.
“Yeah, in about fifteen years,” I answered.
“I’ll meet you back down here at seven,” Ashley said. “We should bring cupcakes. Do you have any?”
“No.”
“Me either.”
“I know,” I said. “I’ll bring my Game Boy. His is broken. He can borrow it for as long as he wants.”
We headed out of the clubhouse and over to the elevator. Boy, I hate to say this, but I was sure glad this wasn’t happening to me.
CHAPTER 4
When I went back to my apartment and opened the door, a smile as long as the George Washington Bridge broke out across my face. That’s because Papa Pete was there. He’s my grandfather, and he’s the kind of guy who would make even a warthog who just ate a lemon smile. That’s how much fun he is.
“Hey, Papa Pete,” I said. “I didn’t know you were coming for dinner.”
“I didn’t know, either,” he said, giving me a big bear hug. “Until I got a call from your mother to be here promptly at six o’clock. Seems she has some surprise up her sleeve.”
“Uh-oh,” I said. “I’ll bet she’s trying out a new recipe on us.”
“Your mother and her health-nut recipes are going to help me lose weight,” Papa Pete said. “Ever since she took over the Crunchy Pickle, it’s like she’s turned my deli into a tofu sandwich stand. What was wrong with corned beef on rye with mustard and a pickle?”
“She says fatty meats are hard on your heart,” I said.
“Well, tofu is hard on my taste buds,” Papa Pete answered with a laugh.
“You’re telling me,” I said. “Last week, she served flaming tofu beets. We had to put them out with a fire extinguisher.”
“Don’t tell her, but that’s the reason I ate before I came,” he whispered. “Tonight she’s probably going to serve fried carrot root. Even a starving rabbit wouldn’t eat that.”
Papa Pete laughed his butt off. I didn’t.
“Hey, Hankie, that was a joke. Why aren’t you laughing?”
“Sorry, Papa Pete. I was just thinking about Frankie. He’s got a major problem going on.”
“Did he hurt himself? Break a leg or something?”
“No, worse. His mom’s having a baby.”
Now it was Papa Pete who broke out into a smile as long as the George Washington Bridge.
“That’s wonderful news. A new baby, a new life in the world. It’s a blessing, Hankie.”
“Sure, unless you’re the one who has to give up your room so it can have a place to sleep.”
“Aw. That’s nothing compared to the joy a baby brings to a family. The whole house will be filled with the wonderful smells of baby powder and strained bananas in a jar.”
“Whoops, I didn’t even think of the smell part. I have to call Frankie to tell him to get a gas mask. At least that’ll help him survive until the baby is potty-trained.”
“I remember when your mother was born,” Papa Pete said. “Her sister, your aunt Maxine, spent the year trying to bite her every chance she got. She asked me if we could send her back to where she came from and get a puppy instead. And look at them now.”
“Papa Pete, they just had a huge fight because my mom borrowed Aunt Maxine’s black sweater and Aunt Maxine thought she saw gravy spots on it.”
“And you know this how?”
“Hey, I don’t live in a cave. I heard mom’s side of the phone conversation.”
“Well, things go on between brothers and sisters, but trust me, Hankie, there’s more in the positive column than there is in the negative column.”
“Wow, having a new baby around sounds like a math problem. Only you can’t erase it.”
That made Papa Pete laugh. And, I confess, me too. Sometimes I crack myself up, which is a pretty nice feeling.
We were still in the entryway when Emily poked her squinchy face in.
“Mom says you have to come to the table right NOW.”
“Oh really, did she say it just that way? Like a sourpuss platypus?”
“I don’t suppose you know that the Australian platypus swims with its eyes, ears, and nostrils shut—the way you walk around every day.”
“That’s so I don’t have to hear, see, or smell you,” I shot back.
“Whoa, kids,” Papa Pete said. “Be nice to each other. You’ll see. One day you’ll grow up to be best friends.”
“I’m sure that’s true, Papa Pete,” I said. “And that day will be six trillion billion gazillion years from now.”
I was satisfied with that comeback, and ready to face whatever flaming organic mishmash my mom was about to serve. I turned and headed to the dining room table, my head held high.
My dad was already seated, and right away, I noticed a funny look on his face. He looked really pleased with himself, like he had just polished off the New York Times cr
ossword puzzle in ink in four minutes flat. That’s the only thing I know of that makes my dad smile like that. Or if he gets a seven-letter word in Scrabble that uses the letter X or J. Apparently, that gets him all excited, too.
Emily was sitting at her place, with Katherine the ugly iguana on her shoulder.
“Who invited lizard girl to dinner?” I asked.
“Mom says we’re having a family dinner,” Emily said, “and that includes the scaly members of the family, too.”
“Ohhhhh, that’s why you’re here.”
I sat down at my place, and right away our dog, Cheerio, sprinted across the apartment (at least as much as a dachshund can sprint on four of the shortest legs ever invented) and attached himself to my ankle. He hangs out there during meals, hoping for a shred of anything. He is the only one in the family who actually enjoys what my mom serves. He must have been born without taste buds.
“Okay, Mom, we’re all here,” I yelled to her in the kitchen.
“Coming,” she called.
All of a sudden, she backed through the swinging door from the kitchen into the dining area. She was carrying a tray of something, trying to balance it while she pushed the door open with her behind. I could see bits of colors, and it didn’t look like food, but I couldn’t tell exactly what it was. When she turned around, my eyes nearly popped out of my head.
There she was, with a huge smile on her face, holding a tray of…oh my gosh…party hats.
And if you looked really close, you could see words printed on the sides, just under the pompom. And those words said, “Congratulations, it’s a baby!”
CHAPTER 5
It’s just like my mom to be a really good friend. She’s a very considerate person. I mean, when I have a sore throat, she’ll actually make chicken noodle soup from scratch, using a real chicken and stuff. Or if someone calls Emily a nerd, which I completely support, my mom will be right there to tell her they’re just jealous of how much she knows about everything. But in this case, I really thought she was going overboard. I mean, why was our family having a special dinner with party hats and everything to celebrate the fact that Frankie’s mom was having a baby?
“Everybody take a hat and put it on,” my mom said, handing each of us one of the party hats. “We have something big to celebrate.”
“Mom, isn’t this going a little far?” I said. “I mean, Frankie’s family is celebrating the same thing six floors down.”
“Hank, what are you talking about?” my dad asked.
“Well, you know, Dad.”
“Maybe I don’t know.”
“Enough of that, you two. I have an announcement to make. Everyone hold hands.”
“Hey, Mom. I draw the line right here. I’m not holding hands with the lizard.”
“Katherine doesn’t have hands. She has claws.”
“My point exactly.”
I could tell that Papa Pete was laughing on the inside. His body was bouncing up and down in his chair, even though no sound was coming out of his mouth.
“Would you just take your sister’s hand, Hank?” my dad said. “Your mother is waiting with something important to say.”
I took Emily’s hand on one side and grabbed Papa Pete’s on the other.
“The Zipzer family circle is about to get bigger,” my mom began. Her voice cracked when she hit the word bigger and I thought I saw the beginning of tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m sorry, guys. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.”
“That’s okay, Randi,” my dad said. “They’re tears of happiness.”
Wow. She was really moved by Frankie’s mom’s baby.
“Hank and Emily, your father and I are so excited to tell you that you’re going to be a big brother and a big sister.”
“I can take the party hat off now,” I said. “I’m already a big brother to her…and I can tell you, it’s no party.”
“What I’m trying to say, darlings, is that a brand new baby is joining the Zipzer family.”
“What did you do? Send away for one?” I asked.
“Hank, I’m pregnant.”
“You and Lani Townsend are both pregnant? That’s really weird.”
“Lani isn’t pregnant, honey. I am.”
I just sat there at the table, holding Emily’s sweaty hand, trying to get my brain around the words that had just come out of her mouth. It didn’t work.
“That can’t be, Mom. I read it on the calendar. With my own eyes. Baby Doctor for Lani.”
“It’s with Lani, honey. You just read it wrong. Lani is going with me tomorrow.”
I continued to sit there, trying to let that sentence open the door and enter my brain. But Papa Pete shot out of his chair like a rocket and raced around the table to my mom. He threw his arms around her, hugged her really hard, and lifted her off the ground.
“That’s so fantastic, my darling daughter!” Then he reached over with his other hand and started to shake my dad’s hand. “Congratulations, Stan. I’m so excited for the both of you.”
He turned to me and Emily.
“How about this, kids? How lucky is this baby going to be to have you two as a brother and a sister?”
“I’m going to be the best big sister,” Emily said. “I’ll paint the baby’s toenails ten different colors. And Katherine and I will read the baby books about all the 91,000 species of insects that live in America.”
“That will be very stimulating, Emily,” my dad said. “I’ll bet that will help the baby to get all A’s in school.”
I’m pretty sure everybody started to talk all at once, but my brain turned to cream cheese and it sounded like I was hearing all of them through a long tunnel. Their words swirled around in my head. New baby. Smart baby. Share a room. Crib shopping. Diaper pail. No sleep. Bundle of joy.
Bundle of joy? If this baby is going to be a bundle of joy, then who am I?
Slowly, the truth was starting to sink in. Frankie’s life wasn’t about to change entirely.
Mine was.
CHAPTER 6
I headed down for the clubhouse to meet Frankie and Ashley at seven. Frankie had definitely heard the news from his mom. And from the look on her face, I could tell Ashley knew, too.
They were waiting for me as I walked in.
No one said a word. They just stared at me.
Finally, Frankie broke the silence.
“Hey, dude,” he said. “Remember. We’re only a phone call away.”
Somehow, that had sounded a whole lot better when it was me telling him.
CHAPTER 7
That night and the next morning, I went about my business as though I had never heard the words “new baby.” I did my homework, sort of. I watched television, sort of. I brushed my teeth, sort of. I ate breakfast, actually very well because I was really hungry, having lost my appetite at the dinner table the night before. You try eating after your mom gives you the “good news” that you’re going to be sharing everything you own with a squealy, throw-uppy, bald, nose-drippy baby.
In class, Ms. Adolf’s words swirled around my head but never quite made it inside my ears. All I kept thinking about was that my mother was going to the baby doctor and the baby they would be discussing was someone I was going to be related to for the rest of my life. That thought really blocked my brain, so that the only thing I heard for sure was the bell that announced lunch.
It was Thursday, which is fish stick day in the hot line at the cafeteria. In the cold line, it was cold fish stick day. I am not a fan of fish sticks, hot or cold, for two reasons. First of all, I have never seen a fish shaped like a stick. And second of all, what kind of fish actually goes into that stick? And even more important, what parts of the fish? That has always been a complete mystery to me. But not the kind of mystery that I actually want to solve by taking a bite.
It was definitely push-your-food-around-on-your-plate day, which means that both Frankie and Ashley had to give me a half of a half of their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. And here’
s my question. Why would Ashley want a banana on her PB-and-J sandwich? But let’s face it, when you’re the guy mooching the sandwich, beggars can’t be choosers. So I ate it with my lips smiling but my taste buds yelling, “What do you think you’re doing, Hank?” I wanted to tell the buds to shut up, but everyone would have thought I was nuts, talking to my tongue.
“I’ve made a decision,” I said to Frankie and Ashley.
“What is it?” asked Robert Upchurch, fourth-grade super nerd and occasional boyfriend of Emily Grace Zipzer. “I’m dying to know.” It was hard to understand him since his fish sticks filled his mouth like an entire school of guppies.
Robert had wedged himself into our table because he thought we wanted him there, which we really didn’t. He’s just one of those kids who doesn’t get it. I’ll bet you know one like that.
“Really, Robert?” I said. “That’s interesting, because I don’t remember giving you a ticket to enter my personal space.”
Milk started to dribble out of Frankie’s nose, because I got him right in mid-sip with that zinger. Then Ashley burst out laughing, too, because we all know that seeing milk come out of a guy’s nose has got to be one of the funniest things on the earth.
“Oh, look at that,” Robert said. “Your milk has found the canal that connects your mouth, your throat, and your nose. It’s called the passage of the sinus.”
This was classic Robert Upchurch. He has a way of inserting his brainful of boring science facts into every conversation and bringing everything to a grinding halt. The other day, when he was at our house playing Scrabble with Emily, he just casually let loose the fact that fingernails grow four times faster than toenails. I mean, what kind of person says a thing like that during a playdate? What kind of person even knows that? Robert Upchurch, that’s who.
Robert picked up his fork and took a bite of the fish stick.
“Congratulations about the baby,” he said. “Emily told me the good news.”
“Maybe it’s good news to Emily, but it’s not to me.”
Who Ordered This Baby? Definitely Not Me! Page 2
