Mom points to the pile of dishes and says, “A sink full of dishes.”
Then she starts making our lunches.
And all I can think is, how will we survive without her?
SHE MEANS BUSINESS
The world record for busiest train station is Shinjuku station in Tokyo, Japan. The station has two hundred exits and serves about 3.64 million passengers every day. That place has got to be crowded and difficult to get through. Strange but true, first thing in the morning, our classroom feels a lot like that train station. When we walk in, we all rush in to hang up our backpacks, put away lunches, and pull out homework. And even though our class doesn’t have 3.64 million kids, I still get a foot in my shin, and when I lean down to rub it, I get a lunchbox whacked in my face.
Lonnie stuffs his lunch into the cubby next to mine and sees the pain wash over me. “Don’t forget to breathe.” He smiles.
Viva squirms her way to safety as Lonnie and I follow. Usually, I get straight to talking about possible records to break, but today all I want to do is tell them about Mom, her new job, and Aunt Ursula.
“You won’t believe what happened yesterday.”
“The Destructor got stuck in the trash can again?” Lonnie asks.
“You’ve decided to break a record for most showers in a row?” Viva laughs, cracking up at her own joke. Actually, that’s not a bad idea, and she doesn’t even know about the one last night.
Before I can get any further Ms. Raffeli claps her hands. Everyone races for the rug and plunges into a circle. Lewis, in his excitement to get to his spot, elbows me in the ribs. I double over.
Lonnie looks at me and says, “Darth Vader breathing.”
Viva nods. “It’s the only answer.”
Which is true, and I do it, but I can’t tell them my news if I’m breathing like this.
“Okay, quiet down,” Ms. Raffeli announces. “You too, Teddy.” By the way her eyebrows rise up her forehead I know she means business.
Lonnie whispers, “Can it wait until lunch?”
Strange but true, the record for greatest weight lifted by the hair is 179 pounds 10.82 ounces and was broken by an eighty-three-year-old. If an eighty-three-year-old man can lift that much weight with his hair, then I can wait until lunch to tell Lonnie and Viva my news.
It will be painful, but I’ll get through.
EYEBROWS WIN EVERY TIME
“So little time and so much to do,” Ms. Raffeli says, grabbing a tissue. “Allergies,” she explains. “They are especially bad this time of year.” She blows her nose vigorously, then says, “There is only one week until the end of school.”
“Is that including today?” Ny asks, looking at the calendar.
“I don’t think so,” Serena says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and whacking me in the face.
Lonnie says, “The last day of school is the Monday after this one.”
“That’s what I was going to say,” Lewis says.
“So that means it’s more than a week,” Angus says, pulling his shirt over his knees and hopping around in circles.
“Only if you’re counting today,” Cornelio explains.
“And the last day is a half day,” Jasmine B. chimes in.
“I never know how to count half days,” Jasmine H. adds.
I shake my head. “I thought I knew how many days were left.”
Lonnie leans over. “We’ve got six and a half days, including today, until—”
That’s when we all notice Ms. Raffeli’s eyebrows crawling up her face like that fastest caterpillar in the world (15 inches per second), which is superfast. And even though we’re all still wondering how many days are left, the caterpillar eyebrows win and we stop talking.
THAT WOULD BE CRAZY
Ms. Raffeli wipes her eyes, and then pulls out a piece of paper. “A message from our principal,” she says. “To the fourth grade class entering fifth grade.” She clears her throat. “Next year you will each be given a kindergarten buddy. You will act as a friend, a teacher, even perhaps like an older sibling. This incoming student can count on you through the whole year to guide them, read to them, be there for them, and most important, to help them transition to our wonderful community.”
Everyone around me nods in excitement like the pigeons do when I come to feed them. Obviously the rest of the class likes this idea. But they don’t have a little brother like mine. Next year, The Destructor will be here. My heart sinks. It’s bad enough sharing a room with him, now I’ll have to share a school with him. But then I think of something worse: What if they pair him with me? I didn’t know it was possible to feel this bad.
Ms. Raffeli smiles. “Today we will start by writing a welcome letter to your buddy.”
I take a few Darth Vader breaths to calm down, and tell myself that no teacher would put The Destructor and me together. That would be crazy.
But then Ms. Raffeli holds up a list with two columns of names. And clearly, right there is my name, and across from it, Jake Mars—The Destructor is my buddy!
PENCILS
Ms. Raffeli explains to me that a lot of thought went into this decision, and that even my parents were brought in on it. “My parents knew?!” I’m so mad I actually feel like Darth Vader and I’m not even breathing like him.
Ms. Raffeli says, “Your parents were supposed to talk to you about it. We all felt that Jake needs extra help during this transition, the kind of help that only his brother can give.”
I don’t have anything to say, and even if I did, I’m so mad I can’t speak, so I walk away.
I can’t believe my parents knew this and didn’t talk to me. Just like they knew Mom was applying for jobs but didn’t talk about it, and they knew that if she got the job Aunt Ursula would come, but didn’t talk to us about it.
Even though I’m super mad, I spend the morning writing a welcome letter to The Destructor. This is not easy, especially because my pencil breaks about a million times. I guess I’m pressing down a little harder than usual. Ms. Raffeli ends up leaving a box of pencils on my desk. I guess she understands.
THE NOTE
Finally, it’s time for lunch. Lonnie, Viva, and I head straight for our table in the corner next to the trash can.
It is June and the warm weather makes the trash smell a little worse than usual. This is fine with me because I like a quiet lunch.
Lonnie and Viva don’t say anything as we unpack our lunches. Viva takes out a sandwich, celery, a peach, and a cookie. Lonnie takes out a sandwich, carrots, an apple, and a cookie.
I’m expecting my normal crummy lunch, but today it’s different. There’s red pepper and hummus and cheese and crackers, and my sandwich is not like any sandwich I’ve ever seen before. I hold it up for Lonnie and Viva.
“Stop right there,” Viva says.
Lonnie shakes his head. “Your sandwich is shaped like a star!”
Viva touches the bread. “It’s not moldy or stale.”
Lonnie notices something sticking out of my lunch bag. He pulls out a piece of paper, and his eyes get bigger. “Your mom wrote you a note?”
I unfold it carefully because nothing like this has ever happened to me before.
Have a record breaker of a day!
Lonnie looks worried. “Teddy? Is everything okay?”
Viva frowns. “Are you moving?”
I take a deep breath and blink a bunch of times. I wonder if I have allergies, too. “My mom got a job.”
THE FORCE
Lonnie and Viva freeze. They don’t blink. They don’t chew, which is not easy since they both have food in their mouths. It feels so nice to tell my best friends. They know how life-changing this is.
“And?” Viva asks, then starts chewing. “What’s the big deal?”
Strange but true, there’s a world record for a dog named Purin who caught 14 small soccer balls using only her paws. That dog had a lot to learn before she could break that record. You’d think if a dog could learn how to catch balls with her
paws, that Viva could learn about me.
I ignore her question and explain about Mom’s job at the animal control agency. They think it’s cool because she’ll be working with animals, which it is. Then I tell them about her making breakfast.
Lonnie says, “Breakfast, a nice lunch, and a note? She feels really bad.”
“She should,” I say.
“Why?” Viva asks. “I don’t get it. My mom has always worked and we get along just fine. And Lonnie, your mom works and you don’t have any problems.”
Lonnie stares at Viva like she’s crazy. “But it’s the Mars family. They’re not normal.” Lonnie understands my family so well, and I really appreciate that about him. “What are they going to do with The Destructor?”
“Oh!” Viva’s face lights up with understanding. “I didn’t think about him.”
“But wait, there’s more,” I say. “My aunt Ursula is moving in.”
Lonnie shivers. “Aunt Ursula?”
“Who’s Aunt Ursula?” Viva asks. “And how bad can she be?”
I explain who she is just as Lonnie pushes his food away. “I didn’t go to Teddy’s house the whole time she was there. Too hard to remember all her rules.”
Even Viva knows that means something, because not only does Lonnie get along with everyone, he’s also really good at rules.
“How am I going to survive?” I ask.
Lonnie puts his hand on my shoulder. “You lived 162 days in a tent. You have the Force.”
Viva smiles and gives me a thumbs-up. “You just need to remember how to use it.”
BEFORE WE LEAVE
At the end of the day, Ms. Raffeli races around, picking up pencils and glue sticks, finding lost lunch boxes, and admiring the work we did. Then she freezes. “Oops! I almost forgot.”
She claps her hands. “This summer there will be an exciting project. You will have the opportunity to paint a mural on a wall outside our very own city hall. Our art teacher, Ms. Cecile, will lead the mural project. As an added bonus, our kindergarten buddies are invited to join in on the fun. Permission forms go home today. I need them back before the end of school!”
Viva leans over. “That sounds cool.”
“I’d totally do that,” Lonnie says.
“Stay focused, people!” I snap. “This summer is all about breaking another record, and no one is going to stop us.”
They nod.
And then I remember that Mom is going back to work, and that Aunt Ursula will be staying with us. What will that be like? I start doing the Darth Vader breathing again. Ms. Raffeli looks up. “Teddy, are you all right?”
“It’s that breathing thing I told you about.”
“Does it have to be so noisy?”
“I think the noise helps, right, Lonnie?”
Lonnie nods.
Ms. Raffeli blinks a few times. “I can’t believe it’s almost the end of the year.” She sniffs and starts passing out the permission slips. When she comes to me, she says, “Good-bye, Teddy,” and hugs me.
“Ms. Raffeli, it’s only the weekend. I’ll be back on Monday.”
She sighs. “I know, but—”
I reach over and give her hug. “I understand,” I say, because I do. Change is hard, and Ms. Raffeli is about to go through a really big change. And so am I. We’ll both need all the help we can get. “Don’t forget the Darth Vader breathing.”
“Thanks,” she says. “And don’t forget the form for the mural project. I think you’d love it.”
I take it to be polite.
SMARTY PANTS
It’s Saturday morning and the only thing Lonnie, Viva, and I have planned for the whole weekend is to break records. Mom puts The Destructor to work emptying all the trash cans in the house. This seems like a disaster waiting to happen, but she says, “Do you want to do it?” which is clearly a trick question, so I smile and offer Lonnie and Viva an apple.
When Lonnie and Viva congratulate Mom on her job, her eyes light up like she’s one of the 1,070 sparklers used for the most sparklers lit at the same time world record. Technically, this is a group record. I am not a fan of group records, but this one is cool. Anyway, it’s clear that Mom would like to hang out more and talk about her new job, but The Destructor’s screams send her running upstairs.
Viva pulls out paper and pen. “We need to make a list of possible records to break.”
Smarty Pants jumps up and lies right on top of the paper.
“Shoo, Smarty Pants,” I say, pushing her off the table.
“She’s so cute.” Viva leans down and pets her.
Smarty Pants meows and walks away. And then comes back and does the same thing again.
Lonnie looks at her. “It’s like she’s trying to tell us something.”
“What could she possibly want?” I ask.
But before we can figure out what Smarty Pants wants, Sharon and Jerome walk in. Jerome is her boyfriend and also Lonnie’s big brother. We all agree he has gotten way nicer now that they are dating. I wish I could say the same for Sharon.
“We’ll be in the bathroom,” Sharon says.
Lonnie, Viva, and I all say, “Ewww!” at the same time.
“Practicing for the graduation song,” Jerome adds.
Sharon explains, “Singing sounds best in the bathroom.”
“It’s the acoustics,” Jerome says.
I don’t know why they’re telling us all this, and I’m pretty sure Smarty Pants feels the same because she meows at them until they leave the kitchen.
After they’re gone, Viva taps the paper. “Any world record suggestions?”
That’s when the singing starts. “Morning has broooooooken. Like the first morrrr-or-or-ning.”
Smarty Pants joins in. I pet her. “Don’t worry,” I say. “She’ll be going away to college soon.” This does not help Smarty Pants, who stands in the middle of the room and howls just as Mom walks in.
“Teddy, did anyone think to feed Smarty Pants?” She grabs a can, opens it, and dumps the food into her bowl. Smarty Pants runs over and eats as if she hasn’t eaten in days, which I know is not true because Mom fed her last night. I saw her do it. I hold my nose because cat food does not smell good.
“Why would we do it?” I ask. “That’s your job.”
Mom makes a sound that is a lot like a Darth Vader breath and I wonder why she needs to calm down. Her life is perfect. “I’ll be mowing the grass,” she says, and leaves.
Viva leans over and whispers, “Canned cat food is gross.”
“Cat food is the worst,” I whisper back. “That’s a big reason not to feed the cat.”
Lonnie leans in and whispers, “And parents like having jobs.”
Lonnie has an excellent point.
RULES ABOUT PARENTS
1. Keep them busy. (A bored parent is a dangerous parent.)
2. Keep your room messy. (Parents need something to complain about.)
3. Give them jobs, like laundry, cleaning up, feeding the cat. (It makes them feel useful.)
4. Do what they want sometimes. (They like to feel loved.)
CAT RECORDS
The sound of Smarty Pants licking up her food fills the room. And that’s when it hits me.
“Smarty Pants!” I say. “Why didn’t we ever think of it before? We could break a record with Smarty Pants.” I grab a copy of The Guinness Book of World Records and we circle up around it.
Lonnie finds the first cat record. “The most popular cat in politics.”
Viva reads over his shoulder. “Socks was owned by President Clinton and received 75,000 pieces of mail every week from 1992 to 2000.”
I shake my head. “We’ll never break that one. Smarty Pants doesn’t know that many people.”
“Or have any interest in politics.” Viva laughs and then reads another record. “Oldest cat: Creme Puff, 38 years 3 days.”
“Smarty Pants is only twelve,” I say.
Viva does the math. “So all we have to do is wait another twenty-
six years.”
Lonnie shakes his head. “I’d really like to break a record before I turn thirty-six.”
We flip through the other records. There’s the first domesticated cat (9,500 years ago), the most traveled cat (600,000 miles), the greatest mouser (28,899 mice killed). Clearly, we can’t break any of those.
Then Lonnie says, “How about longest fur on a cat? It’s 10.11 inches.”
Viva nods. “That’s the one!”
MEASURING FUR
We spend fifteen minutes plying Smarty Pants with cat treats so she’ll sit still long enough for us to measure her fur, only to discover that it’s only two inches all over, which won’t break any record, although we might have broken one for the most scratches inflicted on three kids by one cat!
CAT RECORDS PART 2
Sadly, by the time we recovered from our scratches, Viva’s mom called and said she had to come home, that she wanted to have a little mother-daughter time with her.
So Lonnie and Viva come back today. They’re later than I hoped, though, because Lonnie’s grandparents were passing through and wanted to visit.
When they finally arrive, we go over cat record options. Basically, we don’t have any.
“There’s only one thing to do,” Lonnie says.
Viva nods. “Make one up.”
“How about longest time to run in circles?” Lonnie asks. “My grandmother showed me the funniest video today of a cat chasing its tail. It went on a really long time. If we could get Smarty Pants to do that, we’d have a record.”
As the three of us jump up to look for a way to get Smarty Pants to chase her tail, Mom walks through. She’s on the phone. She looks at me and walks out.
I don’t have to wonder who Mom is talking to because it can only be one person. I don’t ask Mom when Aunt Ursula is coming because I don’t want to know. I also don’t ask Mom when she starts work because I don’t want to know that either.
All I want is to break a record with Lonnie and Viva. So I’m going to do just that and ignore the rest. And when Viva pulls out the shoelace from her sneakers and dangles it in front of Smarty Pants and Smarty Pants starts chasing it, I know exactly what will happen.
Teddy Mars Book #3 Page 3
