Pickle (7 page)

“Let's just get something to eat,” I said.

“I'll meet you in the office,” Hector said. He looked like he might say something else, but changed his mind.

 

16

Bolted

When I got to the office, Hector was already back behind the swinging doors talking to his grandma. She had her back to me, but I could see him squirming in his chair. He probably had to give her a minute-by-minute account of where we would be. I stayed put and studied the Pioneer Fair poster someone had hung up. It said “COMPETITIONS!” in big block letters in the middle. It said “Historic Snacks!” and “Livestock!” too, but “COMPETITIONS!” is what really jumped out at me.

I sat on the bolted-down wooden bench by the door, beside a girl I'd never seen before. She had a sour look on her face and crossed arms, and she smelled like carnations and cherry lip gloss. She glared at a woman writing at the counter. I tried to give the bench a subtle little shake with my butt, like I always do, but it didn't move, like it never does. The sour-faced girl, however, turned her head to give me a dirty look.

“Sorry. I wasn't trying to shake you. I like trying to shake the bench.” Nothing. “Why do you think it's bolted down?” I talk when I'm nervous, and this girl made me nervous.

She didn't answer and looked away. I think it was her way of telling me to shut up.

“I mean, do you think it kept getting knocked over? I don't think so, because it seems pretty heavy.” I tried shaking it again. Silence. “Do you think some dude just went totally nutso and tried to throw it? Maybe he just had too many detentions or something.” I swallowed. “Or she. I don't mean to say that only a boy could lift up the bench. I know strong girls.”

I know strong girls? Did that really come out of my mouth? Geesh. At least she didn't go to Fountain Point. She looked older. She definitely wore makeup. There was the lip gloss, and I'm pretty sure I detected some eyelash stuff. Other bits looked older, too. If she did go here, she'd be an eighth grader. Seventh grade, maybe, but probably eighth. She was probably just somebody's big sister picking them up for a doctor's appointment or something.

“So, just bring her birth certificate and immunization records with you on Monday and she'll be all set to start class, Mrs. Taylor—” Pat said.

“It's Ms., actually,” the woman said. “We … well, it's Ms. Taylor now.”

“Oh, all right. Well, Sienna's homeroom will be Room 121 with Ms. Ruiz.”

Oh, crust. Pat took a closer look at the form. “Well look at that, dear! Monday's your birthday!” Pat said. She leaned forward over the counter. “If you'd like to have a special day and wait to start until Tuesday, that could be our little secret.” Pat winked, but the girl's mom was already shaking her head.

“Oh, I'm sure Sienna will be eager to start school and get adjusted as soon as possible,” her mom said.

Sienna didn't look like she wanted to get adjusted. She looked like she wanted to swing a bench. She stomped out instead and tried to whack the door against the wall, but they had something at the top of the door to stop that, too. It closed gently with a peaceful little
pffft
sound. I never noticed before, but it sounded kind of like someone farting. I giggled. Out of relief that the girl was gone, more than the fart sound. Her mom looked at me, and then I felt bad like I'd been giggling about her kid storming out, or something. I wanted to apologize for laughing, but she left before I could.

All right, that's a lie. She stood there for a minute looking more sad than ticked, but I didn't really want to tell her that it sounded like the door farted because that's just the kind of thing you might get sent to see Principal Lebonsky for, and I was already sitting right outside her office hoping she wouldn't notice me.

“Ben, can you come in here for a moment?” Principal Lebonsky called out. That's my luck for you.

“Did you see the fountain this morning?” Hector asked when I got there.

“How could I not see the fountain this morning?” I said. “It was incredible.” Principal Lebonsky squinted at me. “Incredibly troubling, I mean.”

“Do you know what happened?” she asked. I stood there not saying anything until Principal Lebonsky crossed her arms.

“It malfunctioned? Maybe?”

“Some reckless hooligans placed a great deal of detergent into the fountain sometime last night. I am curious to know whether you might have seen anyone acting suspiciously, or noticed anything different about the fountain. Did you?”

“I didn't see any bubbles until I got to school this morning,” I said. It was literally true. I felt proud of myself and disgusted all at once.

“I wouldn't want to be them when they get caught,” Hector said. I went with the truth again and said that I wouldn't, either. We stood there in silence until Principal Lebonsky sighed.

“I have work to do, boys. Please make sure and eat something healthy,” she said.

“Let's go,” Hector said, and he didn't have to tell me twice. We were out on the street in under a minute.

Hector wanted to go to Pete's Pizza, but I thought Pete might mention the balls. Or maybe Principal Lebonsky had already traced the balls back to Pete's and he'd call her if I ever showed my face in there again. We went to Pizza Palace instead. Every kid I know has had a birthday party there. They have a bunch of cool old pinball machines and the soda machines are out front, self-serve style.

My mom doesn't let me drink soda at home, and I only get some at the restaurant if I earn it. I don't get soda unless I do a supreme-o job. I'm talking about the kind of help that makes your hands smell worse than your feet. And then I still have to use a small glass.

I sucked down soda and tried to talk about other stuff besides fountain foam. I told him about the farting door, but Hector has been hearing it fart for ages. He pointed it out to his grandma once, but that just got him a character card. We reminisced about the pizza-eating contest we had at Finn Romo's birthday party. It reminded me of the new girl. I kind of wanted to tell Hector about her, but I didn't.

When we were walking back to the apartment I thought about the new girl and how it would suck to have a birthday at a new school. Then I thought about how it didn't necessarily have to. I told Hector there was something I had to take care of and left. Hector went inside and I headed down the block to Oliver's with an idea.

 

17

My Plan

Oliver looked confused when he answered the door.

“I have the next prank. We're having a party,” I said.

He walked out into the hall and closed the door behind him.

“What are you talking about? That's not even a prank.”

“It could be. It's a surprise party—for everybody!”

“That's still not really a prank,” Oliver said. I told him about the new girl transferring to Fountain Point.

“We could throw her a party. She totally won't expect it. It will freak her out!”

Oliver still wasn't sure, but he called Frank and Bean (ha! I just got that) to come over and talk about it. When they got to the apartment we went into Oliver's bedroom and closed the door, just to be safe. Oliver's guitar lay on his bed, and he made a big deal out of putting it back in its case. I think he really wanted us to notice that he had a guitar. It
was
pretty cool. Maybe if the pickle club didn't work out, we could start a band. I don't know how to play any instruments, so I would need to be the singer.

Frank turned on the stereo and held a finger up to his lips. We stood in a huddle, whispering.

“I have an appointment in half an hour,” Bean said.

“Video?” Frank asked, and Bean nodded. “You have an appointment with a cat?”

“Yep. His name is Catboy and he's twenty-two pounds! He belongs to a girl in my photography class and he's going to battle Spiderman here.” She pulled an action figure out of her pocket with teeth marks on his bicep. “Make it snappy, Ben.”

I told them my plan. It was kind of simple, so Bean didn't have time to get impatient.

“So, there was a girl in the office who wouldn't talk to you, and you want to throw her a party?” Frank shrugged. “Why? What's funny about that?”

“Because she won't expect it,” I said. “And we could party.”

“There's got to be more to it,” Frank said.

“Like what?”

“I could make cupcakes,” Oliver said. “I can make German chocolate cake. From scratch.” He paused for effect, but we just looked at him. I remembered that Oliver had brought chocolate-covered cherry cupcakes that he made to school for the holiday party, and they were pretty delicious. I ate two. All right, three.

“What's German about it?” Bean said.

“I don't know. It's like regular chocolate cake, but better,” Oliver said. “I put pecans and coconut in the frosting, so it's full of delicious little lumps. They're chewy. It's awesome.”

“Maybe we should figure out what we're doing. This sounds fun, but I'm not sure it's a prank,” Frank said.

“Well, I think pranks should be fun. I mean, not mean. Or gross,” I said. I'd been giving it some thought.

“Yeah, okay,” Oliver said. “I think whatever we do should be funny. Or fun, at least.”

“What are you guys saying, we can't permanently scar anybody? I'm out,” Bean said, but she didn't go anywhere. She poked Oliver in the forehead. “We've all got to keep it secret. And never rat each other out. Ever.” She sent a stink eye around the circle.

“Absolutely,” Frank said. “Protect your comrades. Some events may involve an element of danger, but you accept the risks by being a pickle maker.”

“What if we each had to set up our own prank? Something that we alone could get busted for,” Bean said.

“I like it. Insurance,” Frank said.

“Or, um, incentive if anyone is tempted to blab. Oliver,” I said.

“I told you guys already, I'm not going to tell. Or brag. Or anything!” he said and held up his hands.

“Then you should be the first to get initiated,” I said. “You know, just in case.” Oliver rolled his eyes, but he agreed.

“Fine. I'll think of something.”

Nobody added anything else, so we all shook on it. “So, by the code, the cupcakes are good but there should be something else,” Frank said. “What about the Fountain Point party policy?”

“Fountain Point has a party policy?” Oliver said.

“Don't they?” Frank said. “I thought I might have seen a carefully worded memo stating that all students in the Fountain Point fold should celebrate birthdays with appropriate festivities.”

“Yeah, right!” Oliver said. “Principal Lebonsky would never allow something like that.”

“Wouldn't she? I think with an appropriately worded notice, an overworked teacher might accept that there
is
a new Fountain Point Birthday Party Policy from our high-handed leader,” Frank said.

“I like this,” I said. “A lot! But who's going to write the memo?”

“Allow me,” Frank said. “We can leave the new policy for Ms. Ruiz to find on her desk when she arrives to class. It will be a direct order from the chief.”

“I could get some streamers and stuff from the store,” Bean said.

“We'll have to get up extra early to set it all up before school,” I said. Frank groaned.

“That won't work. How would we get in? The door will be locked,” Oliver said. It was also supposed to rain all weekend, so the windows probably wouldn't be open like last time.

“If I can ensure that you have access to the classroom, can I skip the getting up early part?” Frank said. He asked to borrow Oliver's computer and checked the calendar on the school website. There was a P.T.A. meeting in an hour, so the front doors of the school would be unlocked. Frank said he had to check something out and left. Ten minutes later he came back out of breath and looking smug.

“We're in. Agent Fix-it took care of everything. See you at the party.”

“What did you do?” Oliver looked at him suspiciously. “It's not cool if you broke something.”

Frank didn't say anything. He just put his finger against his lips in a shushing motion, bowed, and backed out of the room. He really took the whole covert agent thing to heart.

Bean, Oliver, and I agreed to meet at the school at seven on Monday morning. Bean wanted to synchronize our watches, but I didn't think we needed that kind of precision, and Oliver doesn't even own one. Bean would bring some party stuff, and Oliver would bring the cupcakes. I'd grab some chips and stuff from the restaurant. Bean's half hour was up, so she left.

“Wanna check out the new
Mutant Feed
game?” Oliver asked. I did. My dad won't let me play it at home because some of the aliens explode when you punch them. Ten minutes, two levels, and fourteen exploded aliens later it was time to go home.