I Got a D in Salami #2

by Winkler, Henry

  I could feel the tears welling up at the corners of my eyes. Papa Pete looked from Frankie to Ashley to Robert, then back to me.

  “Does everyone here know what’s going on but me?” he asked.

  They nodded.

  “Then I think we have to talk,” said Papa Pete. “It’s time for this mystery to end.”

  CHAPTER 16

  WE SAT DOWN on a bench in Riverside Park. A couple little kids were playing nearby. They held hands and spun around in a circle until they got so dizzy that they fell down on the grass. Then they laughed like maniacs, got up, spun around, and fell down again. I love to hear little kids laugh. They sound like they don’t have a problem in the world. I watched them for a minute, wishing I were that little again.

  “Now, suppose you tell me exactly what is going on,” Papa Pete began.

  “I don’t know where to start,” I said.

  “Try the beginning,” said Papa Pete.

  I took a deep breath. Once I started talking, it felt so good to have the truth all come tumbling out. I told Papa Pete about my report card and the three D’s. I explained that I was too ashamed to show that report card to my parents, so I had to pretend to lose it. When I got to the part about the deli and said that we hadn’t planned to throw my report card in the meat grinder, Papa Pete held up his hand.

  “Are you about to tell me that your report card is ground up in the salami that went to Mr. Gristediano?”

  I nodded.

  “Actually, there’s a letter from Ms. Adolf and a large manila envelope in there, too,” Robert added.

  “So that’s why the big rush to get to Mr. Gristediano’s—to get the salami back.”

  Papa Pete had sure figured it out fast. I wondered if he had ever done anything this bad when he was younger.

  “We all feel terrible,” Ashley said, “because we were part of this, too.”

  Papa Pete gathered us around him.

  “I want you to listen to me, grandkids,” he said. “People are just people. They make mistakes. A guy orders a tuna on rye, and you bring him a roast beef on wheat. It happens.”

  Papa Pete turned to me.

  “But this I know, grandson of mine. You can’t lie to cover up your mistakes. You start with one little lie and it gets bigger and bigger, and before you know it, it’s taken over everything. It’s like dropping one little piece of herring in a tub of macaroni salad. Before long, the whole tub smells like fish. You follow what I’m saying?”

  Actually, he kind of lost me with the herring in the macaroni story, but I think I got the general idea. He was saying that once you tell a lie, you just create more and more trouble for yourself. And boy, was he ever right.

  “So we’re going to fix this right now,” he said. “Hank, you’re going to go to Mr. Gristediano’s and get the salami back. We don’t want anyone to get sick. Then you’re going to tell your parents the truth.”

  In my heart, I knew Papa Pete was right. As much as I didn’t want to confess, it had to be done.

  Frankie put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Zip, buddy, I wish there was a magic word I could say to make this better,” he said.

  “There is a magic word,” said Papa Pete, “and it works every time. It’s called the truth.”

  CHAPTER 17

  IT WAS TWO blocks to Mr. Gristediano’s apartment, and they seemed like the two longest blocks in the entire city. Now it was Papa Pete who was hurrying, because he was worried that someone would eat one of my D’s, which might then cause the Big D, that D being diarrhea. I guess eating paper will do that to you, unless you happen to be a goat.

  We tried running up Riverside Drive, but Cheerio was slowing us down again. He was stopping and sniffing every fire hydrant, tree, and doorway along the street. At home, he’s happy just to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling, but now, when we were in a hurry, he’d suddenly turned into Mr. Curious.

  “Come on, Cheerio, step on it,” I said to him.

  “Actually, he’s checking to see where other dogs have marked their territory,” Robert said.

  “Robert, let’s just say it like it is,” said Frankie. “He’s sniffing pee.”

  I picked up Cheerio and tucked him under my arm. He squirmed and wanted to jump out of my grasp, but I gave him no choice in the matter. Papa Pete was in front, running fast. He’s pretty light on his feet for a guy who’s going to be sixty-eight next June 26.

  Here’s something I never realized before. Cheerio is heavy when you’re running. By the time we reached 451 Riverside Drive, my left arm had fallen asleep. So had Cheerio. I wondered how he could sleep with all that shaking and bouncing going on.

  We stopped to catch our breath, which you could actually see coming out of our mouths in little puffs of steam. The building doorman was standing inside, watching us through the fancy glass panes in the door.

  “Papa Pete, ” I said. “Will you tell the doorman he’s got to let us in right away?”

  “You can do it,” he said. “I’ll wait downstairs. There’s a nice sofa in the lobby.”

  “You’re not coming?”

  Papa Pete shook his head. “You know what you have to do,” he said. “This is your mission. Accomplish it.”

  Papa Pete was right. I had gotten us into this mess, and I had to get us out of it. I marched up to the door, pushed it open, and tried to look very important.

  “Sir,” I said to the doorman. “We’re from The Crunchy Pickle. We have to see Mr. Gristediano on a matter of utmost importance.”

  “Says who?” the doorman answered, looking me up and down suspiciously. He obviously wasn’t too impressed.

  “Says all of us,” said Frankie, stepping up to my defense. “You know those platters of salami that were delivered a little while ago? We need to take them back immediately. They’re very dangerous.”

  “I never heard of a dangerous salami before,” the doorman said. “Except the one my brother-in-law Marvin ate once. Gave him so much gas he nearly blew himself up.”

  He laughed really loudly.

  “Actually, sir, those salamis are filled with pulp,” said Robert.

  “Yeah,” he said, “so was my brother-in-law Marvin.” He laughed so hard that the gold buttons on his coat shook. “Hey, I’m just kidding with ya.”

  “So can we go up now?” Ashley asked, bringing the conversation back around. Ashley’s good at getting down to business.

  “I’ll call and let them know you’re coming.”

  I looked over at Papa Pete on the sofa. He gave me a quick thumbs-up. The doorman rang the button marked 4B.

  “Yeah, I got some kids down here from The Crunchy Pickle,” he said into the telephone. “They say they got to check on the cold cuts.”

  He paused and nodded, then turned to us.

  “They’re expecting you,” he said. “Fourth floor. Elevator’s on your left.”

  Before he let us pass, he pointed to Cheerio. “That mutt isn’t going to make a mess, is he?”

  “Oh, no, sir,” I whispered. “He’s taking his daily nap, which lasts until at least five this afternoon.”

  The doorman raised one eyebrow.

  “He requires a lot of rest,” I said, as we made our way over to the elevator. The lobby was so beautiful, it was a shame no one lived in it. Two sparkly crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling. Along the wall to the elevator, there was a mural of people picnicking and dancing in the woods. One of the dancing women was mostly naked, but we were in such a hurry, I didn’t even have time to check her out. The elevator was waiting for us and I bolted for it. Ashley and Frankie were right behind me. I pushed 4, and then I noticed we were missing someone.

  “Where’s Robert?” I said.

  Frankie stuck his head out and looked for Robert. There he was, standing in front of the mural, staring at the mostly naked lady.

  “Robert! Unpeel your eyeballs and get in here,” Frankie said.

  Robert turned bright red. “Uh…I was just admiring the
artwork,” he said.

  “Right, and my name is Bernice,” Frankie answered.

  “I just realized something,” Frankie said as we rode up. “I forgot my cape.”

  “No problem,” I said, trying to stay calm. “We’ll use your jacket.”

  “No way, Zip. It’ll stink of salami, and every dog in the neighborhood will chase me around for months.”

  “Okay,” I said. “We’ll figure something else out.”

  “That’s what I like. We’ll go with the flow.” Frankie rubbed his hands together and looked me right in the eye. “So what’s the plan, man?”

  “First,” I said, “we’ll get to the fourth floor.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Then we’ll get out of the elevator.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Then we’ll ring the doorbell.”

  “Good thinking. And then?”

  “And then…” I stopped and looked at Frankie. He was waiting with great expectation on his face.

  “And then I don’t have the slightest idea,” I said.

  CHAPTER 18

  THE ELEVATOR DOORS opened and we got out. There was only one apartment on the whole floor. I had heard that in some fancy buildings in New York, the apartments are so big that they take up the whole floor of the building. I think it would be cool to live in a place like that. You could skateboard or scooter or Rollerblade up and down the hall and not disturb anyone.

  The door to apartment 4B was down at the end of the hall. I glanced at Frankie, Ashley, and Robert. They were expecting me to be a leader. I wasn’t going to disappoint them. I shifted Cheerio in my arms and rang the bell, hoping they didn’t notice that my finger was shaking all the way to the buzzer.

  A tall man in a blue suit answered the door. I don’t want to say he was the meanest man I’ve ever seen, but let’s just say he didn’t look happy to see us.

  “You must be Mr. Gristediano,” I said, trying to give him my biggest smile. “I’m Hank Zipzer. Happy to meet you, sir.”

  I put my hand out in the basic handshake position. Papa Pete says you should always introduce yourself with a hearty handshake. It lets people know you’re sincere.

  “Sshhh,” the man said, putting his finger to his lips.

  “Of course,” I whispered. “Mr. Gristediano, this is very important.”

  “Mr. Gristediano’s over there,” the man in the blue suit said. “Can’t you see he’s conducting an important meeting?”

  I stood on my tiptoes and got a peek into the living room. A group of seven or eight people, men and women in dress-up suits, were sitting around on big purple couches. The only man not wearing a tie was standing in front of a long table, on top of which sat my mom’s platters. He was holding a cracker with a slice of soy salami on it, and he looked like he was about to put it in his mouth. I had to stop him!

  “I have to get in there,” I blurted out.

  Mr. Blue Suit put his finger to his lips.

  “You don’t understand,” I insisted. “I’ve got to stop Mr. Gristediano from eating that salami.”

  “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he whispered harshly.

  “But that salami he’s about to eat, it’s got my report card in it. Also, a letter from my teacher and a manila envelope. A large manila envelope.”

  Mr. Blue Suit looked at me like I was a number one nutcase and started to close the door in my face. Suddenly, Cheerio woke up. I looked down at him, and he had a look on his face I had never seen before. I could have sworn he was smiling. His nose started to twitch, and his eyes locked on something in the living room.

  I followed his gaze to see what had gotten his attention. There, sitting in the middle of the rug listening to Mr. Gristediano, was the largest dog I have ever seen. I think it was a Great Dane. You could have stacked up thirty-five Cheerios and still not have reached its head.

  In a split second, Cheerio jumped out of my arms and made a beeline for that mountain of a dog, which could have easily eaten him for a snack.

  “Cheerio!” I yelled. “No!”

  Mr. Gristediano stopped talking and turned to look at us. I didn’t know what else to do. I waved. My friends were faster at thinking than I was.

  Ashley pointed to Mr. Blue Suit’s shoes.

  “Sir,” she said, “your shoe’s untied.”

  As he looked down, the four of us darted around him and ran inside. That Ashley, she has a great mind, even in a crisis.

  Cheerio had reached the huge dog and was standing nose to nose with her. Cheerio sniffed her. The Great Dane sniffed back. Her sniff was so powerful that it was like a vacuum cleaner that almost lifted Cheerio’s front paws off the ground. Cheerio didn’t growl like he usually would have. In fact, it looked like was still smiling.

  Could it be? Cheerio was falling in love!

  Mr. Gristediano stared at us. “Who are you, and what exactly do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. The other people in the room whispered to one another. I couldn’t make out their exact words, but I was pretty sure they weren’t saying how great it was that we popped in for a visit.

  “Mr. Gristediano,” I answered, “I can’t tell you how happy we are to be here. What a nice house you have.”

  I had never seen such a fancy apartment. Every space was filled with beautiful objects—African sculptures, china lamps, crystal candlesticks, and even a pink marble chess set.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” Mr. Gristediano said. “WHO . . . ARE . . . YOU?”

  “Here’s the truth, Mr. Gristediano, sir,” I said. “It all started yesterday afternoon at about three-twenty, or maybe it was three-twenty-five, when I came into my mom’s deli with my report . . . ”

  Before I had a chance to finish the sentence, I heard a sound coming from Cheerio’s throat. It was the weirdest sound he’d ever made, something between a purr and a howling love song.

  “I don’t like the sound of that, Zip,” Frankie whispered. “Your dog’s going off the deep end.”

  Frankie has known Cheerio since he was a puppy, and he knows that when Cheerio gets started on his spinning thing, there’s no stopping him.

  Sure enough, Cheerio started to spin. Usually, he chases his tale because he’s upset or stressed. I’d never seen him spin happily. He started to spin around so fast that you couldn’t tell his head from his tail. I think he was doing it to impress the Great Dane. It worked, because before you know it, Mr. Gristediano’s dog got up and started to spin too. She followed Cheerio all around the living room—to the grand piano, around the potted plants, along the front of the fireplace—like two spinning tops completely out of control.

  “Nina! Down, girl!” Mr. Gristediano commanded.

  “Hank,” said Ashley, “I think Cheerio has a crush on Nina.”

  “He should pick on someone his own size,” said Frankie.

  But it was too late for that. Cheerio and Nina were spinning around a mile a minute in what I guess was some kind of weird doggie love cha-cha. I’m telling you, those dogs were twirling all across the apartment like two crazed ballerinas.

  Now, when Cheerio spins, it can get pretty messy. He’s been known to get our rugs twisted up in a bunch or maybe knock over an occasional lamp. But a Great Dane spinning faster than the speed of sound is a whole other thing. Nina was like a tornado traveling across the floor.

  “Stop it, Nina! Stop it now!” Mr. Gristediano yelled.

  He grabbed her collar. Nina escaped his reach and followed Cheerio, who had twirled himself under the coffee table. Nina tried to get under there, too, but she couldn’t fit, so she spun around next to it. SWISH! Her tail whipped around and landed smack on the pink chess set. The pieces shot into the air like missiles, and all the well-dressed people sitting on the couch scattered so they wouldn’t get hit by a flying bishop or a knight on horseback.

  “What on earth is going on?” asked a woman with short, black hair.

  “Take cover!” hollered a chubby man with a bow tie. He crawled behind
the couch, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid getting smacked in the behind by a flying rook. Luckily, his tush was well padded, and the chess piece just bounced off and fell onto the carpet.

  One of the pawns landed on Cheerio’s tail, and he let out a little yip. He bolted from under the coffee table and spun himself over toward the picture window that looked out at the Hudson River.

  “Cheerio!” I hollered. “Come! Or if not come, then stop!”

  Nina went galumphing after Cheerio, who was now dangerously close to one of the African sculptures. It was a sculpture of a man holding a baby up to the sky.

  “Oh, no,” Frankie said.

  But oh, yes. Nina’s tail thrashed into the wooden sculpture. The sculpture toppled, like a quarterback getting sacked. It landed on the floor with a thud. A few of the guests gasped, but one man, who I recognized as the manager of our local Gristediano’s, actually chuckled a little.

  “Clean up on aisle five,” he said, giving the woman next to him a nudge. The woman next to him didn’t even laugh a little.

  Mr. Blue Suit ran to the sculpture and tried to stand it up again.

  “Here, let me help you,” I said.

  “Stay away, whoever you are!” he yelled. “You’ve done all the damage you’re going to do!”

  That’s what he thought.

  By now, Cheerio and Nina were doing their dance across the center of the room, taking down everything in their path. Bam went a vase with blue flowers all over it. Rip went the pillows on the fancy purple couch. Smash went the carved crystal candlesticks. Bam! Pow! Crunch! went the three china ducks on the end table. Boy, if I had ever seen break dancing, this was it.

  Cheerio was having the time of his life. If he had cheeks and they weren’t furry, they would have been glowing. Nina was having quite a fun time herself. She didn’t seem to care that Mr. Gristediano was shouting every command he knew.

  “Stay! Lie Down! Sit! Come! Heel! Up! Down! Off!” he screamed.

  Nothing was working. All the people in their business suits were crouched in the corners of the room and behind the sofa. Mr. Gristediano was running after Nina, and I was running after Cheerio. Those two lovesick dogs couldn’t have cared less about us. They totally ignored us, spinning their way to the center of the room near the table of my mom’s cold cuts. The vibrations made the platters rattle and shake. One of the platters had shifted to the edge of the table and was about to fall. I pushed it back and grabbed a slice of soy salami from it. I held it up.