I was glad to see that Ashley was acting like herself again. One lovey-dovey girl in a kitchen was plenty for me. I guess Ashley saw how stupid Emily looked staring at Yoshi with her goo-goo eyes, and decided to call it quits. Ashley isn’t the goo-goo-eye type, thank goodness.
“What are you going to do, Ash?” Frankie asked. “You can’t just stand there and manage.”
“I’m going to be the director,” she said.
She disappeared through the swinging door and came back a second later, holding her dad’s video camera.
“This is Ashley Wong, reporting for the Zipzer Cooking Channel,” she said, turning the camera on. “Our special guest tonight is Yoshi Morimoto. Yoshi, what do you have to say to your friends back home?”
“Cowabunga, dudes,” Yoshi said, grinning into the camera.
“Thank you for your words of wisdom,” Ashley said.
“Ash, why are you videotaping this?” I asked her.
“We want Yoshi to remember us, don’t we? When he looks at this tape, he can see us whenever he wants.”
See what I mean about Ashley being a good manager? She thinks of everything, even before it happens. I wish I could do that.
“Okay, I’m ready to roll,” Frankie said. “Lay it on me, Zipola.”
“Translation, please, Frankola.”
“Read me the ingredients, dude. I’m ready to cook up a storm.”
I propped the recipe page up on the counter, holding it upright with two cans of tomato sauce and a jar of Papa Pete’s pickles.
“Twelve corn tortillas,” I began, reading off the first ingredient listed.
Truthfully, I couldn’t read the word tortilla, but there was a picture on the page of Mama Vita’s hands rolling up what looked like a tortilla, so I guessed that’s what the word was. I do that a lot when I can’t actually read something. You might call it guessing, but I like to call it figuring it out. Anytime I can figure out a word on my own and not have to ask someone, it saves me from being embarrassed one more time. By the way, shouldn’t tortilla be spelled TOR-TEE-YA? Where did all those L’s come from?
“Twelve tortillas. Check,” Frankie said, tearing open the plastic bag and spreading the tortillas out on the counter.
“Three cups of shredded cheese,” I said.
“Cheese, Louise,” said Frankie. “Check.”
It took a little time for Emily to grate the cheese into shreds. Every two seconds she kept saying, “Oh, I nicked my knuckle. Oh, I nicked it again.” When it was finally done, Frankie put a handful of cheese into each tortilla. Yoshi and Emily helped him roll them up so the cheese stayed inside.
“What’s next?” Frankie asked.
“One can of tomato sauce,” I said.
“Check,” Frankie said. He handed Yoshi the can opener and the tomato sauce.
“Get busy, Yosh my man,” he said.
“Check, Frankie-san,” answered Yoshi.
“Emily, stop staring at Yoshi and look up here at the camera,” Ashley said. “Say something you want Yoshi to remember.”
Emily put her hand over her mouth and started to giggle. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her giggle. Correction. She once giggled in the pet store when George who works there told her she could feed a live mouse to the snake. Yup, that’s what the girl giggled at, all right.
“What’s next, Zip?”
“Chili powder,” I said. “You’re supposed to mix it into the tomato sauce.”
“Oh right, for zing,” Frankie said. “How much, my man?”
I looked back up at the recipe page in front of me. There were a lot of words on that page. The chili powder was way down at the bottom of a long list of ingredients.
Don’t tell me. Could that be a fraction? No, please don’t be a fraction. You know how I feel about them.
Ashley turned the camera on me.
“Come on, Hank,” she said. “Let the camera have it. With feeling. How much chili powder?”
“Uh, let’s see.” I squinted at the page. I could feel myself getting confused.
What does that stupid little line in the middle of the numbers mean? Face it, Hank. You don’t have a clue.
I stared at the numbers next to the words chili powder. There was a one and a three and a little black line floating around somewhere in the middle of them. I was getting nervous, which happens to me when I know I don’t know what I’m supposed to know. The type on the page was all starting to swim all over the page, like it had a mind of its own.
Maybe it isn’t a fraction at all. Maybe that line is just a smudge on the paper. Or a little bug that flew in there and got squished.
“How much chili powder, dude?” I heard Frankie saying. “The tomato sauce is getting lonely.”
I looked up and saw the camera on me.
“Speak up,” Ashley shouted. “We’re rolling!”
Yoshi was taking this tape back to Japan. He was going to watch it with all his friends there. And what were they going to see? Me, Hank Zipzer, boy moron. They were going to see me make a stupid mistake on a stupid fraction because I’m too stupid to figure out how much chili powder we needed!
Don’t do this to me, brain. Fire up! Kick in! How much chili powder? Just read the number. Please, help me out here!
There was nothing cooking in my head. The only thing I could think was that I didn’t want Yoshi to remember me as the kid who had to ask what a fraction was. But I had no choice.
I turned to the camera and was about to speak when—
“Watch out!” Emily yelled.
Her voice startled me back into reality. I jumped so high, I thought I was going to hit my head on the ceiling.
“What? Watch out for what?” I screamed.
“Kathy! She’s under your feet.”
I looked down and there she was again. Katherine, the lovely lizard, was darting across the room and making a run for the open cupboard where we keep the pots and pans.
“This is great!” Ashley said, turning the video camera from me to Katherine. “An action scene!”
Katherine dove into the cupboard and banged around in the pasta pots. I guess she wasn’t a fan of Italian cooking, because she was out of there in a flash. I’ll bet she saw her reflection in one of the pans and scared herself silly. She scurried across the kitchen floor, practically leaping from the refrigerator to the stove and back again. She must have been having a flashback to that afternoon and her linoleum nightmare, because let me tell you, she was one freaked-cut lizard.
Emily ran after her, waving her arms and chasing her around the kitchen. Ashley followed with the video camera.
“A director’s dream!” she shouted. “A chase sequence!”
This was my chance. The camera was off me, and no one was looking. I picked up a spoon and grabbed the jar of chili powder. I looked at the recipe book one more time. What did it say? Maybe this time I’d get it!
Is it three spoon fuls? Or one third? Or one tbirty-tbird? Or thirty-three one hundredths?
I pushed the spoon deep into the chili powder and dug out a heaping pile of the bright red spice. I threw it into the tomato sauce. It didn’t look like enough to me, so I threw in another heaping spoonful. Then I added a few pinches more with my fingers, just like I had always seen my mother do.
There, that looks right to me. I don’t know how much I put in-it was something involving a three. Close enough.
By this time, Katherine had dashed back into the cupboard and was hiding behind the omelet pan. Emily started to cry.
“Don’t be scared, Kathy,” she said. “Mama’s here.”
Katherine was all out of breath. She just stared at us with her beady little eyes. When Emily tried to reach for her, she hissed and poked her long tongue out. She wasn’t coming out of there for anyone anytime soon.
That is, until Robert showed up.
He had come in from the living room with my mom and dad when they heard the commotion.
“Let me try to get her,” Robert said. “I have
a way with the reptile kingdom.”
Robert got down on his hands and knees in front of Katherine. He stuck his tongue out at her, and I swear, the two of them looked alike. Except Robert didn’t have a tail. At least, none that I knew of.
Robert and Katherine continued their weird communication for what seemed like way too long for me. Then he started to make strange sounds in his throat. Iguana sounds.
“Coo roo ca ca shoo,” he said. “Coo roo ca ca shoo.”
What did that mean—“Getout of there right now, you scaly beast!”?
Katherine blinked her eyes and stared at Robert. As a matter of fact, we were all staring at Robert, Yoshi especially. I hoped he wasn’t thinking that this was a typical night in a typical American family. Even for the Zipzers, this was extraordinary.
“Coo roo ca ca shoo,” Robert repeated softly. He stuck his tongue out a couple more times. Then, slowly, he reached into the cupboard and picked up Katherine. She didn’t do anything. She seemed really peaceful as she snuggled up against his bony chest. Maybe she thought she was leaning against tree roots.
“She’s safe now,” he whispered to Emily.
“Oh, Robert,” Emily said with a sigh. “You saved her.”
Emily was so happy, she reached out and gave Robert a kiss. I’m not going to describe it, because why gross all of us out? It’s bad enough I had to see it with my own eyes. But I will tell you this: Robert turned bright red from his ears to his fingertips. He was as red as ... well ... chili powder.
Robert stood up, still holding Katherine.
“I’ll go put her in her cage,” he said. “She’s had a hard thirty minutes.”
They practically floated out of the kitchen. Just a boy, a girl, and a blissed-out reptile.
I looked over at Yoshi. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I could see how relieved he was. Wouldn’t you be if my sister Emily fell out of love with you? She fell out of love so hard, you could almost see her hit the floor.
CHAPTER 16
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I GOT ALL THAT on Videotape,” Ashley said. “The cooking show is going to seem pretty dull after the Big Kiss.”
“Can we not talk about that ever again, Ash?” I groaned.
“I’m with you on that one, Ziparooney,” said Frankie. “Some things are meant to be forgotten, and I’m pushing that K-I-S-S out of my brain as fast as I can. Now where were we?”
“Zing,” said Yoshi.
“Good thinking, Yosh Man,” Frankie said. “Hankster was just about to tell me how much chili powder to put in the enchilada sauce.”
“I already put it in,” I said, saying a silent thank-you to Katherine for saving me.
“How much did you put in?” Frankie wanted to know.
“Just the right amount. The amount couldn’t be more perfect.”
“And how much was that?” Ashley asked. “Not that we don’t trust you, Hank.”
“Hey, did I tell you how to shoot your video?” I asked her.
“No.”
“Good. Then don’t tell me how to cook my enchiladas.”
“Have it your way,” Ashley said with a shrug.
Now all I could do was hope that what I hoped was the right amount was really the right amount.
CHAPTER 17
PAPA PETE CALLED ME FIRST THING the next morning.
“I’m coming to pick you up to take you to school,” he told me. “Your mother said you made a big pan of enchiladas. It’s probably too heavy to carry.”
“But, Papa Pete, you don’t have a car,” I pointed out.
“Hankie, why would something like that stop me?” he said, and hung up.
We waited for him outside our apartment. Frankie held my backpack while Yoshi and I balanced the pan of enchiladas between us. Robert and Emily were there, too, making goo-goo eyes at each other. After a few minutes, a long black limousine pulled up. I couldn’t see who was in it because the windows were blacked out. I thought it was probably a movie star. Either that or a Met. I was wrong, though.
It was Papa Pete! He is full of surprises.
When he rolled down the passenger window and asked if we needed a ride, I thought Yoshi’s eyeballs were going to fall out of his head. Actually, I thought mine were, too. I had never ridden in a limousine in my life!
“Meet Dave Waxman,” Papa Pete said, slapping the driver of the car on the back. “He’s the second-best bowler on the Chopped Livers, after yours truly.” Papa Pete’s bowling team is called the Chopped Livers. They’re first in their league. “When I told Dave about Yoshi, he volunteered to take him for a spin in this sweet little buggy of his.”
“Thank you, ojiisan,” said Yoshi. “You, too, Waxman-san.”
“My pleasure, kiddo,” said Dave. “Hop in.”
We all climbed in the rear door of the limo. Inside, there was a telephone and neon lights, and smooth leather seats that felt like butter. It was so big in there that you could have played hide-and-seek, which by the way, we did. If you ever get a chance to ride in a limousine, I highly recommend playing hide-and-seek.
“I could drive all the way to Japan in this car,” Ashley said.
Robert cleared his throat. “Actually, you couldn’t, because Japan is—”
“We know, Robert,” we all groaned. “An island country surrounded by water.”
“Dude, don’t you have any other topics?” Frankie asked.
“Actually, I could speak about the spiny tailed iguana of Costa Rica. It is the fastest reptile on the planet, able to run twenty-one miles per hour.”
“Oh, Robert, you’re so interesting,” my geekoid sister said.
Attention! Calling all nerds! There’s a meeting in the back of our limo!
It’s only six blocks to my school, and we were really sorry our ride was so short. When we pulled up in front, we saw Yoshi’s father waiting on the steps, talking to Ms. Adolf. Boy, were they shocked to see us get out of that car.
Yoshi gave his dad a hug and started blabbering to him in Japanese. I hoped he was talking about the limousine ride and not giving him an earful about Katherine’s nervous breakdown in our kitchen last night.
Ms. Adolf gave me one of her nastier looks.
“What’s the purpose of this vehicle? It is so extravagant,” she said as the limo pulled away.
“Hmmm, the purpose.” I thought it over. “It’s a fun way to get somewhere?”
“Fun is not appropriate, Henry. I won’t have my pupils just going about willy-nilly, having fun whenever they feel like it.”
I had never heard the word fun sound so un-fun. I switched to a topic I thought she’d like better.
“We made enchiladas for the Multi-Cultural Day Lunch,” I said, sticking the pan under her nose.
She looked into the pan like there were worms crawling around in there.
“They look extremely cheesy,” she said. “Are they spicy?”
“They have a little zing,” Ashley answered.
“Not too much zing, I hope,” Ms. Adolf said. “I don’t respond well to spicy Mexican food. I’m sure our guests don’t, either. We don’t want to make them sick.”
That was a scary thought.
What if I put in too much chili powder? Will the enchiladas be too spicy? Will they make Yoshi sick? Will he go screaming out of the room, begging for water? Worse yet, what if they make Mr. Morimoto sick?
Stop it, Hank!
My thoughts were making me sick.
I looked at the enchiladas in the pan. Exactly how zingy were they? There was only one way to find out. I had to taste them.
CHAPTER 18
AS THE BELL RANG and everyone went inside, Ms. Adolf told me to take the enchiladas to the Multi-Purpose Room. That gave me an idea. I’d put them down and, when no one was looking, take one little bite. If they were too spicy, I’d throw them out right then and there. At least that way I’d be sure I wasn’t going to give the whole school a stomachache.
Frankie held the front door open for me.
“Fran
kie, Ashley, come along to class,” Ms. Adolf said. She and her gray shoes were already halfway up the stairs. “It doesn’t take all of you to deliver your tamales.”
“They’re enchiladas,” I corrected her.
“Whatever.”
Obviously, Ms. Adolf wasn’t big on Mexican food. Probably because it wasn’t gray.
“Are you sure you can make it there without dropping the pan?” Frankie asked me.
I was wondering the same thing myself.
“Come along,” Ms. Adolf said, pointing to the steps that led to our classroom.
“Put our dish where everyone can see it,” Ashley whispered to me as she headed upstairs. “I think it looks delicious.”
“It kicks butt,” Yoshi said.
And then they were gone, leaving me alone with one heavy pan of killer cheesy enchiladas.
I hoped I wasn’t going to have to throw them away. All my friends were counting on seeing our dish, front and center. How would I explain it if I had to throw it out?
Sorry, guys. Guess who couldn’t read a recipe? That’s right. Me.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like my friends wouldn’t understand. Frankie and Ashley know all about my learning challenges, and they are very understanding. Ashley always helps me count out the right change when we stop at Harvey’s to get a slice of pizza. And Frankie helps me in a million ways. He puts new toys together for me when I can’t figure out the instruction booklets. He set up my e-mail when I got my new computer. He even quizzes me on our spelling words when we walk to school.
But here’s the part even Frankie and Ashley wouldn’t understand: They wouldn’t get why I just didn’t say, “Stop the camera. I can’t read the recipe.” To them, that’s not a big deal at all. But it is to me.
I don’t think even my best friends really know what it feels like to be me. I hate feeling that I’m not as smart as other people. I hate feeling ashamed of myself all the time. And I hate that I can’t count on my brain to get it right. Sure, Dr. Berger says there’s nothing to be ashamed of, that we all learn differently and in our own time. But that’s easy for her to say and very hard for me to believe. She isn’t the one who has to say, “Stop the camera. I can’t read.”
Holy Enchilada Page 6
