Later, Philip’s father came up to his room and gave him a talking to.
When Philip was alone afterward, he decided that his father was probably right. It wasn’t Becky’s fault the boys had made fun of him.
After dinner Philip sat in the living room, trying to think of a way to show Becky he wasn’t really mad at her. He noticed the top was off the candy dish and so he took a Hershey’s kiss. He peeled the silver foil from it and popped it into his mouth.
Chocolate, he thought. Becky had never had any chocolate. Giving his sister her first chocolate would show her he wasn’t mad at her. But he couldn’t let his mother know. She would probably say something about “good food” and “no candy.” But just a little taste would be all right. That couldn’t hurt.
But Becky had no teeth. He would have to give her soft chocolate. He would get a Hershey Bar and put it on his windowsill in the sun. He’d done that before by accident, and the candy bar had ended up mush. But it would be getting dark soon and there wouldn’t be any sun. How would the candy bar melt right? Then Philip got an idea. He’d put the candy bar under his bright desk lamp, and that would keep it soft until night.
Philip ran up to his shoebox to be sure he had a Hershey Bar. He put it on his desk and looked forward to the night ahead.
~ * ~
“Put that light out,” his father called for the third time. “It’s after eleven o’clock.”
Philip felt the Hershey Bar leaning against the light bulb. It was very soft, so this time he obeyed and turned off the light.
“Now go to sleep,” his father called.
Philip made himself stay awake until his parents went to bed and the house got quiet. Then he threw his covers back and went to get the candy bar. It was still gooey. He also thought to bring along a glass of water and a paper towel to clean the baby after she tasted the chocolate. Philip smiled to think how smart he was.
He crept softly down the hallway past his parents’ room and into Becky’s room. The night-light burning over the crib was just bright enough for Philip to see what he was doing. He put the paper towel down and balanced the glass of water in the corner of the crib. He tried unwrapping the Hershey Bar, but a lot of chocolate stuck to the paper.
“Becky,” he whispered. “Becky.” Philip struggled with the candy bar wrapper until, finally, most of the candy bar was uncovered. As Philip looked at the candy, though, he saw it do a strange thing. It would not stand straight out like it was supposed to do but kept drooping down toward the floor. Philip turned it upside down, but it drooped again. The next time Philip turned it over, part of the candy bar dropped off and fell on the floor.
The floor was too dark for Philip to see where the piece of chocolate landed, but he had to find it. After licking his fingers, he bent down to search for it. From the next room he heard his father cough. It sounded like he was getting up! Philip had to get back to his own bed. But where was that piece of chocolate? He felt around the floor but still couldn’t find it. Then he thought, if I can’t find it, neither can my father. That made him feel better, so he took two steps toward his own room. Ah. Uh oh! He’d found the sticky, soft chocolate. With his foot. The melting chocolate mushed through his toes. At that same moment, Philip remembered the glass of water in the crib. Philip hopped back to the crib, trying to keep his chocolate foot in the air. It was hard to keep his balance, though, and before he could catch himself, he fell against the crib and heard the soft sound of water spilling onto the baby’s mattress. He heard his father’s voice say, “I’ll check on the baby.”
Philip dashed off to his room, jumped into bed and pulled his covers over his head. A long time seemed to go by. Then, through his covers, he could see the lights in his room go on.
“Philip. Get up.” It was his father’s voice.
Philip peeled the covers down, pretending he’d been asleep the whole time. His mother was there, too, carrying the baby.
“What were you doing in the baby’s room?” his father wanted to know.
Philip rubbed his eyes.
“Philip, cut it out. I want answers. What were you doing in the baby’s room? Why is her bed wet, and where did this glass come from?”
His mother added, “What was that mess all over the rug in Becky’s room? And down the hall?”
“Philip, let me see your foot,” his father ordered. His father didn’t wait for Philip to show him. He lifted the covers himself. “Look at this.”
“What is that, Philip?” his mother asked.
“Chocolate,” Philip whispered.
“Chocolate!” his father said. “Chocolate on your foot! Get out of bed and go clean yourself off. How in the world did you get chocolate on your foot? Wait. Answer me before you go.”
“I wanted to give the baby some.”
“Philip!” his mother screamed. “She can’t eat grownup food yet.”
“Not even grownups eat grownup food at this time of night,” Philip’s father grumbled. “Was the water in case she got thirsty? Or were you planning to give her a bath?”
“Just to wipe her mouth,” Philip answered softly.
“Oh, Philip.” Philip’s mother came over to his bed and sat down. “I know you thought you were doing something nice for Becky. But all of us, even Daddy and I, have to be very careful with such a tiny person as Becky. She can only drink milk or water from a bottle. That’s all. She can’t eat anything that you eat yet. She will someday. Then you can be nice and share your things with her.”
Philip stared straight ahead. He did try to do something nice for the baby. But nothing he did turned out right. That baby was bad luck. That baby was just getting him into more and more trouble.
His mother stood up. “Don’t worry, Philip. No harm was done. I’ll clean up, and we can all get back to sleep. You get to the bathroom and clean yourself up. And try to keep your foot off the floor.”
Philip scrambled from bed and felt stupid hopping down the hallway to the bathroom. What was the use of being nice to his sister if it just got him into trouble? Well, this was it, he thought as he wet a washcloth. He wouldn’t ever be nice again. Not in this house anyway. When he foot was finally clean, Philip went back to his room. It was quite a while, however, before he could fall asleep.
Seven
The next day was Saturday. Philip knew his father had to work that morning. His mother was taking care of the baby so Philip was on his own. He roamed the house but couldn’t find anything to do. Finally, he crept into his parents’ bedroom and turned on the television.
“Philip,” his mother called after a while. “Turn off that TV and come down for lunch. Daddy will be home any minute.”
Philip watched the last five minutes of The Three Stooges then went downstairs. Becky was lying in her little crib screaming, when he got to the living room. Where was his mother?
“Mom?” There was no answer. He went into the kitchen but it was empty. He called down to the basement.
The baby kept on crying. Philip went in to look at her. She was crying so hard that her face was bright red. Philip was frightened. He hoped the baby was all right. She had her legs up in the air and her hands were balled into tiny fists. As Philip watched, the baby’s face got redder, and her legs and arms waved even more wildly than before. Philip had never heard her make so much noise.
“Mom!” Philip called again. Except for the baby, the house was quiet. Philip was getting more frightened by the moment. Where could his mother be? Then Philip noticed the bottle of milk on the coffee table. It was full. He touched it. It was warm. The baby hadn’t eaten yet. Had his mother gone out and forgotten to feed the baby? No, that was impossible.
The baby was quiet a second, then screamed even louder than before. Her face was getting redder all the time. Philip decided he would feed her. He’d seen his mother do it. And he couldn’t just let the baby lie there crying. Philip bent over the crib and slid his hand gently under Becky’s neck. He remembered what his mother had told him about how the baby was
not strong enough to hold up her head, and whoever held her had to do it for her. Next, he slid his other hand under the baby’s back. Then he lifted. The baby grew quiet. Her head turned toward Philip.
“I’ll feed you,” said Philip. He sat on the sofa and rested the baby in his lap, still holding her head with one hand. With the other hand he reached for the milk and put the nipple into the baby’s mouth. Becky gobbled the nipple and started sucking. Just like a vacuum cleaner, Philip thought. As Philip held the bottle, Becky found one of his fingers and wrapped her little hand around it. She clung to his finger tightly. As she drank, the baby looked at Philip, and he stared back at her.
He checked the empty living room. No one. “Goo goo,” he said. “Goo goo ga ga.” He felt the baby squeeze his finger. Maybe she likes me after all, thought Philip. He wondered if, when she was done, she would smile at him. He had not yet seen his sister smile. A tiny drop of formula slid down Becky’s chin. Philip wiped it away with his thumb, careful not to let Becky’s hand drop from his finger. Philip watched the formula in the bottle get lower and lower until it sounded like she was sucking the last bit of soda through a straw. Philip took the bottle away from her and put it back on the table. He wiped away the tiny drops of white that had formed in the corners of the baby’s mouth.
“Did you have enough, Becky? Was it good?” Philip asked, tickling the baby under her chin with his finger. Becky found his finger again and held it. Then it happened. While she and Philip were staring into each other’s eyes, she smiled. A big smile. A big, toothless smile. Like a little old lady, Philip thought, and it was the prettiest smile he had even seen. He smiled back and said, “Goo goo.” The baby smiled again and made a noise that to Philip sounded like a laugh.
“Goo goo goo goo,” Philip repeated.
And she smiled again.
“Didn’t I tell you it would be magic, Flip Flip?”
Philip looked up, shocked. His mother and father were standing in the living room watching him.
“Where did you go, Mom?” Philip wanted to know. “I came down for lunch, and the baby was crying, and you weren’t here.”
“I was just about to feed Becky when I heard this awful scream from next door. I put the milk down and ran over. Mrs. Taylor had spilled some boiling water on her foot. Her son was there, and I helped get her into his car so he could take her to the hospital. Then I came right back. Daddy was just driving up and look what we find. I’ll take her now, Philip,” his mother said, coming toward the sofa.
“No, no,” said Philip. “I’m okay. Let me hold her awhile.”
Philip’s father looked surprised. “You want to hold the baby? I thought you didn’t want anything to do with her.”
“I like her now,” Philip said. “Watch. Goo goo.”
The baby smiled and made a noise.
“Goo goo?” his father repeated.
“Yeah, Dad. Goo goo works every time.”
“Do you really like her, Flipper? I can see she likes you.”
“She keeps holding my finger.”
“I told you she would. Magic, Flipper?”
Philip laughed. “Magic. Like Fred and Effie, Daddy?”
Now his father laughed. “Like Fred and Effie, Flipper.”
The phone rang, and Philip’s mother went into the kitchen to answer it. “It’s Emery, Philip. He wants to know if you want to come out to play.”
Philip thought a moment. “Tell him I’ll come over to his house in a little while. I want to play with Becky some more first.”
Philip’s mother came back into the living room. Philip watched her take his father’s hand.
“Can I play with her a little more, Mommy?”
“Yes, you may, Philip. You certainly may.”
The End
Meet John Paulits
John Paulits’s fiction has appeared in various magazines (The Mendocino Review, Crossroads, Labyrinth and others) and ezines (Dark Moon Rising, The Harrow, and others) over the past twenty years. Four of his children’s novels have been translated into Chinese and published in Taiwan; a fifth, Philip and the Boy Who Said “Huh?”, was published by Mayhaven Press; and a sixth, Philip Gets Even¸ has been published by Wings Epress. Mr. Paulits is a former teacher in the New York City public school system. He is married, lives in New York and has a daughter now living in Boston.
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Philip and the Case of Mistaken Identity and Philip and the Baby (9781597051095) Page 8
