Philip and the Case of Mistaken Identity and Philip and the Baby (9781597051095)

by Paulits, John

  Emery stopped and stuck out his hand.

  “What’s that for?” Philip asked.

  “If we’re going to be best friends, we should shake on it.”

  Philip remembered Emery’s diaper hands but didn’t want to hurt Emery’s feelings. So he shook Emery’s hand once and let it go quickly.

  “Now, I can teach you chess if you promise not to kick over the game again. I almost lost the queen last time.”

  Emery and Philip’s friendship lasted all summer. They swam in Philip’s tiny swimming pool; they played ball and a little chess; they often visited Mrs. Moriarty for candy and cartoons. And slowly but surely, the summer slipped away.

  ~ * ~

  The day before school began, Philip and Emery sat talking in Philip’s pool.

  “Don’t you feel good, Philip?” Emery asked.

  “It’s almost time for school to start.”

  “I know. I have that old witch Miss Smith this year. I hate her. She’s always calling kids names. She called John a cry baby last year.”

  “She did?”

  “I heard her say it in the lunchroom.”

  “I have crabby Mrs. Moh. But even worse. When school starts that means my new baby will be here soon.” Philip’s mother had told him it could be any day now. “Do you think our mothers wanted other babies ’cause they were tired of us?”

  “I don’t know. My mother wanted two babies. She must have been real tired of me. I wish I could go somewhere and never see a baby again.”

  “Emery! Why don’t we?”

  “Why don’t we what?”

  “Why don’t we go away and forget all about babies?”

  “Go away where?”

  “Emery, let’s run away. No babies and no school.”

  Emery thought a minute. “I saw on TV where two boys ran away and were killed by a werewolf.”

  “A werewolf! A werewolf? There’s no such thing.”

  “I saw it on TV. The werewolf ate one boy, and the other boy ran away. You’d probably let the werewolf eat me, and you’d run away. But it wouldn’t matter. The werewolf caught the other boy and ate him, too.”

  “Emery, there are no werewolves. It’s make believe. Like witches.”

  “Miss Smith is a witch. I don’t want to go away. I’m scared of werewolves.”

  “Well, I’m going.”

  “Away from home?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because if the werewolf sees you...”

  “Oh, Emery, shut up.”

  The conversation ended. The boys stayed in the pool until it was time for Emery to go home for dinner. But Philip had made up his mind. His parents were more interested in the new baby than in their old son. Good. If that’s the way they wanted to be, he could be the same way. He’d run away. Then they could think about the new baby all the time. They wouldn’t have to waste one second thinking about him.

  Just then, a dog howled somewhere in the neighborhood.

  Philip thought of Emery’s werewolf.

  There really were no werewolves.

  Really.

  Philip swallowed hard and went upstairs to his room to make plans. School started tomorrow, and he had to be gone by then.

  Four

  Philip lay in bed that night making his plans. When he left his house next morning, he would start toward school. He’d go down the street until he was sure his mother couldn’t see him. Then he would head to the old railroad tracks three blocks past the empty lot. Trains didn’t use the tracks anymore. The track was on top of a hill covered with weeds. Philip decided he would follow those railroad tracks as far as they went and see what adventures waited along the way. His father had finally brought him home some candy, and Philip put it in his shoebox. He would take the candy with him in his schoolbag along with his piggy bank in case he needed some money. He would show Mommy and Daddy. They didn’t need him, and he didn’t need them. He didn’t care. Not even a little. Philip gave a sniff and turned on his side.

  Morning came and Philip dressed, ate his breakfast and listened to Daddy tell Mommy to call him at the first sign of anything. Philip said good-bye, but he was sure his parents didn’t hear him. They were too busy talking about the baby. Their new baby. Philip knew it was better that he was leaving. Everyone would be happier this way.

  He quietly left his house, paused for a moment to look back at it, and started walking.

  ~ * ~

  Philip had already walked a long way along the railroad tracks. He had not brought his watch along, but his hunger told him it must be lunchtime. The idea of more walking was not very exciting. He was tired. A short way ahead he saw a small bridge, which meant that a road was below. Philip decided to climb down to that road and see where he was.

  He slid down the steep hill near the bridge almost smack into a big green sign. It read: ZOO 1/2 MILE. The zoo! So that’s where he was. He hadn’t been to the zoo since first grade. Spending the first day of school at the zoo made Philip smile. And he wouldn’t have to think about babies there. Only animals. And animals were fun.

  The zoo was not very crowded. Philip noticed a clock in the gift shop. He was surprised that it was just a little past eleven o’clock. Not even lunchtime yet. It didn’t matter. He’d eat some of the candy in his school bag anyway. Munching a candy bar, he followed the signs to the monkey house. He smiled when he caught his first glimpse of the monkeys swinging on branches, chattering, chasing each other around. If he could be an animal, he would most like to be a monkey.

  Philip noticed the man behind the ice cream cart staring his way. Philip ignored him and faced the monkeys again. Three tiny monkeys were being scolded by the mother monkey. Just like his mother used to scold him. Philip wondered what his mother would do when he did not get home from school at three-fifteen. But he put that out of his mind and found a bench near the monkey cage to watch some more. After a few minutes, though, Philip found his eyes growing heavy. All of a sudden he was so tired! Philip took his schoolbag and laid it on the bench. He lay down on his side, so he could still watch the monkeys, and put his head on his bag. He caught another glimpse of the ice cream man staring at him, but he was too tired to care. He closed his eyes and was asleep in no time.

  Philip dreamed of monkeys. Monkeys swinging from trees. Monkeys doing tricks. They were so funny. Philip laughed hard in his dream. But suddenly a noise made Philip stop laughing. Someone was calling his name. Philip’s eyes popped open.

  “Philip Felton!” It was no dream. That was his father’s voice!

  Philip scrambled up from the bench, and there was his father coming toward him. And did he look angry!

  “Philip, what do you think you are doing here instead of being in school? When I get you home...”

  The ice cream man came over. “Are you the boy’s father? We spoke on the phone.”

  “Yes, yes. I’m Mr. Felton. I want to thank you for keeping an eye on him.”

  The ice cream man smiled. “I saw his name and address on his schoolbag and called you.” The ice cream man’s grin widened as if he thought he’d done the smartest thing ever. Philip hated him.

  “Thank you. Thank you,” his father mumbled, pulling his son toward the car.

  Philip was beginning to get scared. He’d been caught. Caught running away from home. What would his father do to him? His father didn’t usually spank him. Would he now? For running away?

  The ride home was quiet, and when his father pulled the car into the Felton driveway, all he said was, “Get out and get into the house.”

  Philip moved quickly.

  “Sit down on that sofa.”

  Philip sat.

  “Do you know where your mother is?”

  “Upstairs?” Philip answered softly.

  “No. Not upstairs. In the hospital. She’s going to have the baby today. I got a call from Mommy to tell me to come home. When I walk in the door, the phone is ringing, and it’s a call from the ice cream man at the zoo telling me that my son, who is supposed
to be in school, is sleeping on the park bench in front of the monkey cage.”

  Philip could feel tears rising in his eyes. Now his father was so mad he’d ignore him even more when the new baby came.

  “Your mother doesn’t know you aren’t in school. And I don’t want her to know. This is no time to have your mother upset. What were you doing at the zoo, if I may ask a stupid question?”

  Philip started to answer, but he knew if he spoke one word he’d cry.

  “Answer me, Philip.”

  Philip looked at his father. His father’s face didn’t look as angry now. Philip sprang from his seat on the sofa and ran to his father.

  “Daddy,” he cried. “I don’t want a baby in the house. I want you and Mommy to have only me.” Philip lifted his head a little. He could see the wet mark his tears had made on his father’s shirt. Philip felt his father pull his head toward his chest and hug him tightly. When Philip lifted his head again, he thought he saw some water shining in his father’s eyes.

  “Philip,” Daddy sighed. “We’ve talked about this some. Probably not enough. Let me see.”

  His father’s arms were still around him, and Philip liked that.

  “Do you remember the turtle you got last year?”

  “Fred,” Philip said.

  “Sure you do. You liked Fred so much you wanted another turtle. So we went to the store and bought you Effie. Now think. Did you love Fred less after you got Effie, or do you love them both a whole lot?

  “Both.”

  “Philip, love is not something you run out of. You can never give it all away. No matter how much you use up, there is always more inside of you than you can ever use.” His father pulled him to his chest again. “Mommy and I love you the same as ever. But something exciting is going to happen, Philip. Mommy will be home soon, and we will have a baby in the house. A tiny, tiny baby. A baby who can do nothing for itself, Philip. A baby who will depend on us for everything. It will cry at night and wake us up. It will cry a lot, and maybe not even stop if we hold it and rock it and sing to it. But it will be our little baby. And one day, Philip, this baby will smile at you. Maybe it will reach out and grab your finger. You think your finger is small, don’t you? But it will take the baby’s whole hand to hold your one finger, Philip. The baby will hold it tight, and it will be magic. Believe me, Flipper. Magic, just like you were magic. You still are.”

  Philip let his father hug him one more time. Then his father stood up. “It’s almost one now. Go to Mrs. Moriarty’s and stay there until I come and get you. And tomorrow go to school. And don’t do anything that might upset your mother. I mean it. Understand?”

  Philip said he understood.

  He went to school the rest of the week.

  Five

  Philip was watching cartoons at Mrs. Moriarty’s house on Saturday when Mrs. Moriarty answered her phone. “Philip,” she called. “You can go home now. Little Becky’s there.”

  Philip heard Mrs. Moriarty congratulate his mother and say she’d be over later in the day. When she hung up the phone and walked into the living room, she was surprised to see Philip still watching the television.

  “Didn’t you hear me, Philip? The baby’s home. Don’t you want to see what your new sister looks like?”

  His father had told him the baby would be magic. Philip didn’t know whether he liked the kind of magic that turned having fun into always having to be quiet. Magic that made his parents forget about him and only think of the new baby. Magic that made him and Emery the two unhappiest boys in the world.

  “Philip, you’ll hurt your mother’s feelings if you don’t go see the baby. Look, here comes Emery. Maybe he’ll go with you.”

  The doorbell rang, and Emery walked in, holding a present under his arm. He looked at Philip.

  “My mother told me to give this to your new baby.”

  “Why did you bring it here?” Mrs. Moriarty wanted to know.

  “I knew Philip was here, and I didn’t want to go all alone. I’m going to have another baby soon, you know.”

  “I know,” Mrs. Moriarty laughed. “You tell me every time you see me. You make it sound like a monster is coming.”

  “It is,” said Emery. “The attack of the babies.”

  “Come on, Emery,” said Philip. And the two little boys left.

  When the boys walked into Philip’s house, Philip’s mother sat on the sofa and in her arms was a tiny bundle wrapped in a blanket. Philip’s father was taking photos from every angle.

  Philip’s mother smiled at Philip. “Come and see,” she said.

  His mother looked awfully happy, Philip thought.

  Philip sat next to his mother and looked at the bundle. He had never seen such a tiny person in his life! “Look how small,” he couldn’t help saying to Emery. The baby’s head was moving up and down and from side to side.

  “She’s inspecting the place, Philip,” his father said, lowering his camera. “And she’s probably looking for her brother.”

  “Look at her wiggling around, Emery,” said Philip. The more he stared, the more amazed he felt.

  Little Becky made a noise.

  “Can she talk?” Philip asked.

  “That’s dumb,” said Emery. “That’s really dumb. Babies can’t talk for at least a year after they’re born. Even I know that. You think she’s superbaby or something?”

  Philip was about to tell Emery to shut up when the baby made another noise and wiggled even more. Her mouth opened, and it seemed as if she were trying to take a bite out of the air. She did it over and over again.

  “What’s she doing?” Philip whispered.

  “She’s looking for something to eat,” Mrs. Felton explained. “Watch.” She produced a bottle from her robe pocket and put the nipple in the baby’s mouth. The baby immediately stopped its wiggling and began to suck.

  “Do you want to hold her, Philip?” his mother asked.

  “Hold her! Not me. Let’s go out and play, Emery.”

  “Here,” said Emery, putting the present on the sofa next to Mrs. Felton. “My mother said this is for the baby.”

  Mrs. Felton thanked Emery and the boys headed for the backyard. “Oh, and Philip,” she added, “play quietly. Becky will be falling asleep soon.”

  Philip made a face his mother couldn’t see—a face like he’d gotten a sour taste in his mouth.

  “See,” said Emery once they were outside. “You’ll hear your mother say that a lot now. My mother says it to me all the time.”

  Philip slumped onto the grass under the one tree the Feltons had on their back lawn. “I hate having a baby in the house.”

  “Me, too,” said Emery, slumping next to him.

  “I’m not even going to look at her.”

  “Me, too,” agreed Emery.

  “I’m not going to talk to her at all.”

  “Neither will I,” said Emery.

  “If Mommy or Daddy want me to help with the baby, I won’t do it.”

  “Neither will I,” promised Emery.

  “If they want me to change a diaper, I won’t.”

  “Neither will I,” promised Emery.

  “Thanks, Emery. If we both treat our sisters the same, maybe...”

  “Our sisters? I was talking about your sister. My parents won’t let me be mean to Amy. But I’ll be mean to your sister if you want me to.”

  Emery wanted to be mean to his sister? That didn’t sound right to Philip.

  “Forget my sister. Let’s just keep being friends.”

  “Shall we shake hands again?” Emery wanted to know.

  “No,” said Philip. “We did that.” Sometimes Emery acted so weird, Philip thought.

  The two boys said good-bye, and Philip went into the house. The baby was sleeping in a tiny crib in the living room. Philip tiptoed up to the crib and peeked at the baby. Becky was lying still. Philip bent close to get a good look at her foot. Such a tiny foot! His looked like a monster’s foot next to hers. The baby wiggled in her sle
ep and Philip jumped. He watched Becky’s head go back and forth and her arms and legs wave about for a moment. Then she lay quietly again.

  “She’s cute, isn’t she, Philip?” he heard his father say.

  Philip turned. Behind him were his mother and father, holding hands and smiling at him.

  “No,” shouted Philip. “She’s not. I don’t want to look at her.” He stomped to the stairs and up to his room. But halfway up the stairs he stopped and listened. He hoped his shout had not spoiled the baby’s nap.

  Six

  Philip and Emery checked with each other almost every day to be sure that they were still friends and to assure each other that no, they had not yet begun to like their baby sisters. Philip’s parents were too busy with the baby to bother him much, so things were peaceful in his house.

  But a few weeks later Philip ran down the street on his way home from school madder than he had ever been in his whole life. He burst into his house and called out, “I hate that baby. I don’t want any baby in my house.” Then he pulled one of Becky’s tiny knitted booties from his school bag and threw it onto the sofa.

  He ran up the stairs, making as much noise as he could. He didn’t care if he woke the baby or the whole neighborhood. He didn’t care if the whole world woke up. He didn’t care if his mother yelled at him. He didn’t even care if she told his father.

  Just as Philip expected, his mother came running up the stairs after him.

  “Was that you, Philip?”

  “I hate that baby!”

  “What happened?” his mother said with a sigh.

  “I took one of her shoes to school for show and tell.”

  “You mean her bootie?”

  “Don’t say that word.”

  “So what happened?”

  “I told the class how small she was and showed them the... bootie. They started laughing. The teacher told them to be quiet. But when I stuck my thumb into the bootie to show how small it was, they started laughing again. Then, when we were leaving school, Marty called me the ‘bootie boy’ and Gregory said it, too. See. Now you’re laughing. I hate that baby. Go away. Go away.” And Philip threw a tantrum just like the great big noisy fusses Ramona made in the books his father read to him. When he looked again, his mother was gone.