Dodger for Sale

by Jordan Sonnenblick

  LIZZIE: You’ll see, Willers. You’ll see!

  DODGER: Hey, look! I can totally juggle these four crayons and this can of spray paint!

  (Insert crashing, spraying sounds here) Well, except for the paint. How many colors were supposed to be on this map again?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lizzie’s Big Idea

  FOR THE NEXT WEEK, I bugged Lizzie to tell me what her big plan was. She wouldn’t crack, though. She just kept telling me I’d find out at the next student council meeting. By the time the meeting rolled around, I was just dying to know what she was thinking. I called the student council to order by banging this wooden hammer thing called a gavel on the table—which, truthfully, is the most fun part of being the president.

  Sometimes, when I’m feeling really wild, I even bang it twice.

  Anyway, as soon as the meeting started, Lizzie took over. That happens a lot. She raised her hand, and when I called on her, she said, “Attention, everyone! I have a big announcement to make.”

  Mrs. Starsky, our teacher and advisor, said, “What is it, Lizzie? I’m always excited to hear your ideas. They’re so new and fresh!”

  My archenemy, James Beeks, who had run against me for president and lost, muttered to his friend Craig Flynn, “Of course her ideas are new—until this year, nobody was dumb enough to vote for her.” I gave him a dirty look. Technically, he and Craig shouldn’t even have been on the council, but Beeks had convinced Mrs. Starsky that with a new president and vice president, the group needed a couple of experienced fifth graders around to provide “balance.” So far, all Beeks had provided was obnoxious comments.

  Lizzie said, “You know how the student council does something to help the community every year?”

  Mrs. Starsky beamed at Lizzie and said, “Of course. You know my motto: Think globally, act locally!”

  “Uh, right. Anyway, this year I think we should do something different … something to help the environment right here in our town.”

  A little first-grade girl raised her hand and said, “Hey, we could make it rain more! My dad’s a farmer, and he says we need more rain!”

  A second-grade boy turned to her and said, “How are we supposed to make it rain? Duh!”

  A kindergarten boy said, “I know! Maybe we could save some fur seals! My mom says they’re almost a stink!”

  Mrs. Starsky said, “That’s a sweet idea, Tyler. But I think your mother means ‘extinct.’ That’s the word for when all the members of a species have died.”

  The little boy said, “Because they smell so bad?”

  Mrs. Starsky shook her head and replied, “No, being extinct has nothing to do with smelling bad.”

  “But,” Tyler fired back, “everything that’s dead smells bad!”

  Lizzie interrupted by saying, “Thank you for sharing your idea—and your interesting logic—with us, Tyler. Unfortunately, though, Mrs. Starsky is right: We need to act locally. And there aren’t any fur seals around here, are there?”

  “Oh, no,” Tyler said. “We’re too late! They’re already a stink!”

  Lizzie put her head in her hands. Mrs. Starsky asked, “Do we have any other ideas for helping our local environment?”

  A second grader raised his hand and said, “Mrs. Starsky, Mrs. Starsky! I just lost a tooth!”

  Honestly, the next time somebody tries to get me to run for student council, I might just join the circus instead. The kid ran to the water fountain while Beeks snickered, “Wow, Willie and Lizzie sure do know how to run a smooth meeting—not!”

  Lizzie sat straight up, glared at Beeks, and said, “That’s it! Time for a field trip, everyone! Grab your coats and follow me!”

  Everyone looked totally confused, but they put on their jackets, and when Lizzie started walking out of the classroom, the whole student council trooped along behind her. I looked at Mrs. Starsky, who raised an eyebrow as if to say, What’s this all about? I shrugged, because honestly, I had no idea.

  Meanwhile, Tyler had started crying over the imaginary dead fur seals of our little town, the tooth kid was running around trying to gross everyone out with his bloody molar, and Beeks was smirking. I heard him say, “This ought to be good!”

  I was kind of thinking the same thing.

  Lizzie marched out the front door of the school, turned right, and cut diagonally through the playground. We passed the slides where Lizzie and I had eavesdropped on Beeks and Flynn, and the baseball field where I had almost saved my team’s fall season. Then we reached the sidewalk that runs along the edge of the woods. Mrs. Starsky said, “Lizzie, I’m afraid I have to ask you where we’re going. I’m not supposed to be taking you off school grounds without signed permission slips, and—”

  Lizzie stopped walking so suddenly that I banged right into her. “That’s okay, Mrs. Starsky. We’re here!”

  I spat out a strand of Lizzie’s hair and said, “What do you mean, we’re here?”

  “Yeah,” Beeks said. “What are you talking about?”

  Lizzie pointed to a sign attached to a wooden spike in the ground. All the sign had on it was a phone number and two words:

  FOR SALE

  I gulped. Jeepers. Our woods were for sale? Dodger’s magical home? The Field of Dreams? See, these woods are kind of enchanted. If you have a certain kind of vision, and a certain kind of strange luck, you can find a field in the middle of the woods where everything is blue and nearly anything can happen. Dodger kind of hangs out there when he’s not in his lamp or following me around. Long story.

  This was so not good.

  Lizzie said, “This is what I’m talking about. These lovely woods—the only green space for miles around—are for sale. And do you know what happens when a forest gets sold?”

  Beeks said, “Somebody makes some money?”

  Tyler said, “All the fur seals die?”

  Flynn said, “A mall gets built right behind our school? With a food court and everything? Because that would be totally cool!”

  Lizzie sighed. “What happens,” she grumbled, “is that the trees get chopped down, the land gets bulldozed flat, all the wildlife gets either killed or chased away, and we get a bunch of new stores or rows and rows of identical houses that nobody really needed in the first place. Plus a ton more traffic right around our school, floods whenever it rains, and a thousand other problems.”

  “Well,” said Beeks, “what do you expect us to do about it?”

  I spoke up for the first time. “I think she expects us to, um, find a way to stop this.”

  Flynn said, “And how are we supposed to do that?”

  Mrs. Starsky put her hand on Lizzie’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry. I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can think of something.”

  After the meeting, Lizzie and I told Dodger about the FOR SALE sign. I figured he’d be upset, but he actually started out pretty calm. “Cool,” he said. “What’s a FOR SALE sign?”

  “What do you mean, cool?” Lizzie shot back. “This isn’t cool, it’s a nightmare! A FOR SALE sign means somebody’s trying to sell—” She gestured angrily toward my bedroom window, which looked over our backyard and into the woods. “Listen, Dodger, do you see that?” she shouted.

  “Um, you mean the window? Why would anybody want to buy Willie’s window?”

  “Not the window—the view!”

  “Whoa, dude, I didn’t know you could even sell a view. But if they sell Willie’s view, what are we going to see when we look out the window?”

  “They’re not selling the view, Dodger. They’re selling the land. They’re selling the forest. They’re selling the Field of Dreams!”

  Suddenly Dodger’s unpatched eye bulged. “Ooooohh,” he said, “I get it! Like when I helped those dudes with the bows and arrows sell Manhattan to the Dutch settlers. How dumb were those Dutch guys, anyway? We got ’em to give us, like, twenty-four bucks’ worth of shells and beads for it—and then they realized they couldn’t even carry the land away. Duh, like it was
going to fit in their dinky little ships!”

  Lizzie sat down on the bed and sighed. “Dodger, when people buy land, they don’t think they can move it somewhere—they just want to build on it. You know, like now Manhattan is all covered with huge, tall buildings?”

  “Oh. Oooohhhh,” Dodger said. He sat down next to Lizzie. “So, did I get my buddies a good deal with the beads-and-shells thing?”

  She patted him on the shoulder. “Not particularly, I’m afraid.”

  “Are you sure? Those were some seriously cool beads.”

  “I’m sure, Dodger. So that’s why we can’t let anybody buy our woods. Because would you rather have the Field of Dreams or a bunch of skyscrapers?”

  “Um, Lizzie,” I said, “how are we supposed to stop a bunch of grown-ups from buying and selling a piece of land? Plus, how is this my quest if it’s your idea in the first place?”

  Just then, my little sister, Amy, came barging in. Fortunately, she couldn’t see Dodger, because only Lizzie and I could—but she suspected Lizzie and I had some kind of secret, so she was constantly snooping around in our business. “Hi, Lizzie,” she said as she flung herself into my desk chair. “Hey, what piece of land? What quest? What’s going on? Are you guys having a big adventure? Huh? Huh?”

  “No big adventure, Amy. Just the same old boring stuff. We’re doing some research for student council.”

  “ ’Bout what? I can help. I’m a great researcher!”

  Lizzie said, “We’re trying to learn how to be environmental activists.”

  “We are?” I blurted.

  Lizzie elbowed me in the ribs. It hurt. “Oh, Willie, you’re so funny. Isn’t he, Amy? Of course we are.”

  Amy said, “Well, why don’t you just read Dad’s book?”

  “Um, which book?” I asked. Dad has written a lot of books, and truthfully, most of them are about pretty boring topics.

  “You’re kidding, right? I’m talking about Save the Planet in Ten Easy Steps. It’s only, like, the most important environmentalist book of the last fifty years.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “Some guy named Kirkus Reviews said so. It’s right on the back cover of the book.”

  “Kirkus Reviews isn’t a person, Amy—it’s a magazine. Dad once told me that only, like, five people even read it, though.”

  “Well, whatever. They think Dad is a genius. I have a copy of the book in my room, if you want to see for yourself.”

  “I have a copy, too, but—” I started to say.

  Lizzie cut me off. “All right, Amy,” she said. “Thank you very much.”

  Amy grinned at me. “See, Willie? You might think I’m annoying, but at least your girlfriend appreciates me.”

  Lizzie spluttered, “I’m not his … he’s not … we’re not … we’re just friends.”

  Amy winked at us, then went to get Dad’s book.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Into the Woods

  I HATE TO SAY IT, but Dad’s book was actually helpful. It was organized into sections, and each section was full of strategies for defending the environment. The first section was called Pick Your Battle. I think we had already done that part. The second section, Find Your Hook, looked more promising. Lizzie skimmed it and told me the first thing we had to do was come up with something unique about the woods—something that would be lost forever if they got bulldozed. Dodger jumped up from where he had been dozing on the bed and said, “Excellent! A safari! Let’s go!”

  “Right now?” I said. “I haven’t even done my homework yet, and soon it’s going to be dinnertime. Plus, I promised Mom I’d take out the garbage before—”

  Lizzie rolled her eyes. “This is important, Willie,” she said.

  “It’s an adventure!” Amy shouted as she charged into my room again.

  “You’re not going!” I yelled back.

  “Oh, okay,” Amy said. “I didn’t realize this was, like, a date.” Then she giggled her way back to her own room.

  The next thing I knew, Lizzie and I were walking through the woods. I asked her what we were looking for, and all she told me was that I would know it when I saw it. Meanwhile, Dodger had magically changed into a whole safari outfit, complete with one of those baggy beige vests with a million pockets, matching shorts, and a big round hat. He had a butterfly net strapped to his back and a magnifying glass in one hand. Since I had no idea what I was even looking for, I spent a minute watching Dodger in action. He was stalking from tree to tree, studying the ground intently with every step. Every few seconds, he would bend over and use the magnifying glass to look at something up close before continuing on his way. Occasionally, he scratched his chin and said, “Hmmm” or “A-ha!”

  Then, all of a sudden, he reached down, picked up a little stick, and said, “Behold!”

  Lizzie came running over. “What is it, Dodger?”

  He looked all excited. “Look!” he exclaimed. “It’s the rare and elusive Four-Pronged Brown Twig!”

  “Huh?” Lizzie and I both said at the same time.

  “Check it out! Have you ever seen one of these before? I mean, sure, you can find Three-Pronged Brown Twigs all over the world. And the Five-Pronged Greenish Twig is fairly common. But a Four-Pronged Brown Twig? This has to be an endangered species or something.”

  He handed me the magnifying glass, and I leaned in for a better look while Lizzie got down on her hands and knees to investigate something on the forest floor. For a moment, I started feeling excited, too. It did look like a pretty interesting twig. But then Lizzie said, “Umm, Dodger, no offense, but here’s another brown twig with four prongs. And here’s another. I don’t think your specimen is rare at all. Besides, twigs aren’t even a species.”

  Dodger wandered off, disappointed. But then a moment later, he shouted, “It’s a miracle! Call the newspapers! This bush looks exactly like Mount Rushmore!” It kind of did, if you tilted your head and squinted, but Lizzie said that wouldn’t do the trick, either.

  I walked away from Dodger and Lizzie, and tried to find something unique that would save our woods. I found some crushed-up soda cans, a few plastic bags, and a dead, smelly rat, but no rare plants or animals, as far as I could tell. I was about to turn around and give up when I saw a flash of green from behind a tree. I wasn’t sure what I had seen, so I tiptoed over and peeked around the trunk, but whatever I had glimpsed was gone.

  At that point, I did turn around and start walking back. But then I saw something green dashing through the underbrush again. I tried to sneak up on whatever it was, but of course I stepped on a stick. It made a loud cracking noise, and that was that. I swear, I have to be the lamest sneaker-upper in the history of the world.

  When I got back to my friends, they were arguing. “There! Did you see it that time?” Lizzie asked.

  “What are you talking about?” Dodger said. “I didn’t see a thing. I don’t know, maybe it’s this stupid eye patch. I bet without it I’d be an excellent thing-seer. Why, we chimps are renowned far and wide for our strong scouting and investigating skills. For example, you might remember how that great explorer and adventurer Peter Panzee flew all the way from London to Never Never Land without even a compass. Or how my ancestors sailed the seven seas.”

  “They did?”

  “Sure. Haven’t you ever heard of Chimps Ahoy? Anyway, I didn’t see any green flash in the trees. Especially not one with pointy ears!”

  “Wait a minute,” Lizzie said. “I never said anything about pointy ears! How did you—”

  “Oooh, look at the time, kids! Looks like we’d better be getting back to your house before—”

  “Wait a minute, Dodger!” I said. “I just saw something green sneaking around over behind that row of bushes, too. We can’t leave now. What if it’s some kind of new animal nobody’s ever seen before? This could totally save the forest!”

  “Nah, it was probably just a Minty Barksucker. Those aren’t unusual at all.”

  “What the heck is a Min
ty Barksucker? Sounds rare to me!”

  “Um, did I say Minty Barksucker? I meant to say Green-Bellied Forest Eel. Very common, but extremely dangerous. Probably people see ’em all the time, but then the eels eat the people. That would explain if you haven’t heard of them. Anyway, we’d better go before the eel notices us. Dude, I don’t want to scare anybody or anything, but trust me—you don’t want to meet up with a Green-Bellied Forest Eel. Let’s just back away slowly. And, um, neither one of you has any cuts or scabs, right? Because the Green-Bellied Forest Eel tends to get enraged by the smell of blood. Or small fish. Are either of you carrying any anchovies?”

  Lizzie and I shook our heads.

  “Or sardines?”

  We both shook our heads again.

  “Mackerel?”

  Lizzie stomped her foot. She said, “Dodger, there’s no such thing as a Green-Bellied Forest Eel. That is the craziest thing I have ever heard! You’re just making stuff up to get us to leave.”

  Dodger looked down at his feet. “Fine,” he said. “You’re right. But come on—wouldn’t it be cool if there were Green-Bellied Forest Eels? Because, for one thing, then the Broad-Nosed Land Sharks wouldn’t be so lonely. … ”

  Lizzie said, “Enough, Dodger! I want to find that pointy-eared creature that was sneaking around behind those trees. Now, would you come on already?”

  Dodger made a pouty face and said, “Okay, if you insist. But it’s probably just a leprechaun.”

  “Oh, forget it!” Lizzie said. “If you aren’t going to be serious, I quit!”

  She turned on her heel and marched in the direction of my backyard. I followed her. We didn’t find out that he had been serious about the leprechaun until it was too late.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Kissy Face and the Secret Seller

  AS SOON AS LIZZIE and I stepped through the back door of my house, Amy was all over us. “So,” she said, “did you find a rare animal to save?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Did you find a rare plant to save?”