The Day of the Iguana (6 page)

My brain often doesn't work when I want it to, but now it was definitely on snooze. I knew what the problem was. I was really worried about what happened with Frankie.

Maybe you know the feeling. You've got to think of a topic for your science project, which is due the next day. But you're in a humungous fight with your best friend and you absolutely positively cannot concentrate. I have trouble concentrating when I'm not in a fight with anyone, when everything is perfect. It takes a lot of work to focus my brain. But when I have something really big on my mind, it's hopeless.

I stared at the wall some more. The only science project that occurred to me was how to send an electro-wave from my brain to Frankie's to make him forget that he was mad at me.

I sat there. It seemed like hours went by. I heard my dad and Emily come home. I heard my mom's footsteps in the hall. She was on patrol, circling around to see that I was doing my work. If she was any closer to my bedroom door, she would have been inside. Occasionally, she was, or at least parts of her were. Like her mouth.

“How's it coming?” she asked.

“It's coming,” I said.

She casually strolled over to my desk and glanced at my notebook. I had nothing written there. She raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, this takes time, Mom. You can't hurry science. It's not a subject you can speed through.”

The truth was that what I kept thinking about was what happened at Aunt Maxine's house. I kept seeing that wall of video equipment with all the numbers and dials and lights flashing at me. I played it over and over in my mind, seeing the television screen with the programs and channels running by, starting at the bottom of the screen and racing to the top. The words and numbers had gone by so fast. If only there had been a way to slow them down.
There must be a million kids like me who can't follow them,
I thought.
I'm not the only slow reader in the world... am I? No, no way.

That was it! The idea of the century. I'd invent a way to slow down the words and numbers crawling across the television screen. I would be the hero for problem readers around the world.

It was a science project to be proud of. It was the King of All Science Projects.
Hank Zipzer, I love you,
I thought. I sprang up from my chair and danced around my room. I gave myself kisses up and down my arms.

What an idea! What a breakthrough! Way to go, Hank!

AT DINNER THAT NIGHT, I told my mom and dad about my idea. I told them that I was going to find a way to make the program guide on the television screen easy to read for kids like me. I explained that this would help kids around the world and possibly even as far away as Neptune.

“There must be learning challenged kids on Neptune,” I said. “I'm sure they need help, too.”

“That's a lovely thought, Hank,” said my mom. She always tries to help people in need, like giving the leftover food from the deli to the homeless shelter. I could tell she was happy that I was trying to help the learning challenged kids on this and every other planet.

“How exactly are you planning to do this?” asked my father.

“Experimentation, Dad,” I said, trying to sound really smart. “The way all science is created.”

“Hmmph,” my dad grunted. “Sounds messy.”

“Do you think Thomas Edison's dad worried that he was making a mess when young Tom invented the lightbulb?” I asked. “No, absolutely not. His dad probably just said, Tom, don't forget to wear gloves so you don't cut yourself on the glass.”

“Thomas Edison was thirty-two when he invented the lightbulb in 1879,” said my father. “I don't think he was living with his parents at the time.”

When you argue with someone who is a crossword puzzle nut, they pull out their facts at the drop of a hat. Someone with facts can be pretty frustrating when you're trying to make a point.

“Oh, you're right, Dad. It was his wife who reminded him about the gloves.”

“You're making that up,” Emily said through a mouthful of vegetarian lasagna. She pulled a piece of zucchini from the lasagna and handed it to Katherine, who was sitting on her shoulder looking particularly ugly.

“I happen to know that Thomas Edison was very happily married,” I said to Emily.

“Oh, yeah? What was his wife's name?”

“Mrs. Edison,” I answered.

That made my mom laugh.

“Well, whatever you do,” my dad said with a yawn, “make sure you put your name on the paper.”

“Thanks for the tip, Dad.” I wasn't being sarcastic, either. It was actually a good suggestion since most of the time I forget to put my name on the paper and my teacher Ms. Adolf takes a half point off my grade.

My parents were so tired from the trip that they went to bed right after dinner.

“Don't stay up too late,” my mom said, giving me a kiss. “Tomorrow's a school day.” Like I could forget something like that.

I went to my room and tried to write a few notes about my science topic. The more I thought about my invention, the more excited I got about it. I even picked up the phone to call Frankie and tell him my idea. But then I remembered that he wasn't speaking to me. That made me sad, because when you have a best friend, you want to be able to tell him when you have a good idea.

In a couple of minutes, I heard my dad snoring from his room. Then I heard my mom click off her reading light.

I got up and headed for the living room. I needed to check out the cable box to see if I could figure out how it controlled the speed of the words on the TV screen. This was going to take some serious investigation.

Cheerio was asleep on my bed. He lifted his head and started to wag his tail. Sometimes that means “I love you” but most of the time that means “I'm about to go nuts and start chasing my tail and spin around like a top.” I needed his cooperation so I could work without being disturbed.

“Stay, boy,” I whispered.

I took my pillow and put it gently under his head. Cheerio loves to sleep on my pillow or my clothes or anything that smells like me. You gotta love him.

I went out into the hall and the floor creaked. I froze in my tracks and counted to twenty-seven. My dad was still snoring, and there was no light coming from under my parents' door, so I figured it was okay to go on. When I reached the living room, I could move around more freely because the carpet covered the sound of my footsteps.

I picked up the cable box that sits on top of the TV. I couldn't see it very well. The outside told me nothing about how it worked. That meant one thing. I was going to have to go inside the box. It was Thomas Edison time.

I tried to separate the top and bottom of the box with my fingernail, but there was no way to get the cover off without a screwdriver. We keep our tools in a red metal toolbox under the kitchen sink. Quietly, I crept into the kitchen, found the toolbox, and opened it. I picked out a small screwdriver with a grooved end called a Phillips head screwdriver.

Suddenly, the kitchen light came on. I spun around, and there was Emily with Katherine perched on her shoulder.

“What are you doing with that?” Emily demanded, eyeing the screwdriver in my hand.

“Stuff,” I answered.

“What kind of stuff?”

“Science stuff.”

“What kind of science stuff?”

“Emily,” I said. “When I want you to know, I'll tell you.”

“What's the big secret?”

“What are
you
doing up?” I asked her. If she could play twenty questions, so could I.

“I'm worried about Katherine,” she said. “She's acting strange.”

“Of course she's acting strange,” I said. “She's your iguana.”

Katherine looked at me, shot her tongue out, and hissed so loud it sounded like air gushing out of a tire. She even lifted her lip—or at least where her lip would be if she had lips-and flashed her teeth. That
was
strange. Katherine's usually in a pretty good mood, at least as far as iguana moods go.

“She keeps pacing back and forth across the room like she's nervous,” Emily said. “I think she had a nightmare.”

“Maybe they had
The Mutant Moth That Ate Toledo
on at the pet store, and it gave her the creeps,” I said.

There it was again, just when I thought I had stopped thinking about it. Obviously, I had mutant moths on the brain.

“Is Frankie still mad at you?” Emily asked.

“Big-time.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emily was trying to be nice. “Katherine and I are very good listeners, aren't we, Kathy?” She nuzzled Katherine.

“That's okay,” I said. “You and Katherine go to sleep. She needs her beauty rest.”

Emily started to leave, then she turned around. “I think Katherine would like a nuzzle from you,” she said. “It would make her feel loved.”

Oh brother, the things a guy has to do to get a little privacy around here. I reached out and gave Katherine a pat on the head. She hissed and flashed her teeth at me again. That's gratitude for you.

I decided to take the cable box into my room so I could work on it in private. I disconnected the box from the TV, which wasn't hard. I took it in my room and sat down. I noticed that there were four screws holding the top to the bottom. I unscrewed them and put them on the floor.

No, Hank, I thought. You
are
going to lose
these if you leave them here, and then you'll never be able to put the box back together again.

I got up and put all four screws in a little plastic box I keep in my desk drawer. I usually keep my special clear marbles in there, but I took those out and put them into another compartment.

I jiggled the top of the cable box, and it came off very easily. Wow, things were going well.

When I lifted the top off, the inside was not at all what I expected. It was jammed with circuit boards and microchips and lots of wires tangled up together.

I took everything out of the box and separated the pieces, laying all the parts down on my rug. There sure were a lot of parts. I got so involved taking the box apart and inspecting every single piece that I lost all track of time. The next time I looked up, two hours had gone by. That happens a lot to me. Either I can't focus at all, or I focus so hard I shut everything else out.

Suddenly, I heard a toilet flush, then footsteps. They were coming toward my room!

“Hank?” my dad whispered from the hall. “What are you doing up?”

I had to do something fast. I knew he'd come in, and my dad is not the kind of person who would be happy to see his cable box in a million pieces on my floor. I don't know your dad, but I bet he's not that kind of person, either.

I flung myself down on the rug so my body covered all the parts. I heard a couple of things crunch under my butt. There was no time to check them out. I barely had enough time to hit the ground before my dad opened the door.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, in a very casual voice, like I always stay up until midnight on a school night lying around on my rug. “What's up?”

“You are,” he said. “Go to bed.”

“Thanks for the suggestion,” I said, “but I'm not all that sleepy.”

“Head on pillow, Hank. Now.”

“Okay, Dad. I'll be in bed in one second.”

He clicked the door shut. I could tell he was standing outside, waiting for my lights to go off. I scooped up all the parts of the cable box in my hands.

“N-O-W,” came my father's voice, as he spelled out the word. When my father spells out words, that is a clue he means business.

“Right n-o-w, Dad,” I spelled back.

I opened my desk drawer and quickly tossed all the pieces in. Chips, circuits, wires, and other parts scattered everywhere. I kicked the top and bottom of the cable box under my bed and hopped under the covers just as my dad turned the doorknob and stuck his head inside.

“Sleep fast,” he whispered. “It's late.”

“I'm trying, Dad, but someone keeps opening my door.”

He left, and I tried to close my eyes, but all I could see in my head were the bits and pieces of the cable box crammed in my top drawer. I had a bad feeling that box was never going to come together in the same way again.

I MUST HAVE FINALLY fallen asleep, because my dad's voice woke me early the next morning.

“Out of bed, Hank. Breakfast in five,” he called, knocking on my door.

Usually, it takes several warnings to get me out of bed, but I jumped up and yelled back, “I'm way ahead of you, Dad.” I went to my desk drawer and pulled it open. Nothing had changed overnight. The chips and circuit boards and wires were lying there exactly as I had left them the night before. How come in fairy tales, magic elves arrive in the night and put everything back the way it was? I ask you, where are those elves when a guy needs them?

I imagined the punishment that would come down on me if my dad saw that mess. My dad always says the punishment should fit the crime, and I had a horrible feeling my punishment for taking away
his
television would be that he'd take away
mine,
whenever it was finally working again.

“No TV for a month,” he'd say. Or maybe even, “No TV for a year.” My head spun! I had to get that cable box fixed before he found out about it.

I was safe for a while, because no one in my family turns on the TV until the nighttime. But at six thirty every night, my Dad watches the nightly news, followed by
Hollywood Squares.
I'm not too good at math, but I figured I had something like twelve hours to get our cable up and running.