A Tale of Two Tails (10 page)

But me, I know the truth.

We're going to be locked in here forever.

Ten seconds later, the doors to the station burst open as if they were propelled by a superhuman force, and my father, Stanley Zipzer, stormed through them with his finger pointed directly in between my eyes.

Let me just say from previous experience, I knew at that moment I was toast . . . burnt to a crisp.

“You,” he said with his pointer finger getting closer and closer to my forehead, “need to start an explanation, and it had better be specific and convincing. Go!”

Okay, there it was. I knew exactly what I had to do, which, by the way, was a lot easier than the actual doing of it.

I figured out that after the chaos in the park, Frankie and Ashley and Emily and Robert probably ran home to get my dad and tell him Cheerio and I were in trouble. I couldn't blame them for doing that. I mean, after all, we were in the police station, which is like a major step up from Principal Love's office.

Part of me was glad to see my dad. And the other part could've done without him being there.

I took a deep breath and felt all that good oxygen flood my brain. Finally I could start to think a little, and I noticed Frankie and Ashley trailing behind my dad.

“Dad. Let me just ask that you don't say one word until I finish the whole story,” I began.

“You have no bargaining position here, young man, and I will speak whenever I have something to say.”

“Deal. We'll play by your rules.”

Before I could get one word out, Cheerio, who had finished posing for his mug shots, jumped off the stool and ran over to my dad. He sat down at his feet, put on his cutest face, looked my dad right in his not-so-cute face, and started to whimper like when he was a puppy.

“Don't you even try, mister,” my dad said to him, wagging his pointer finger at Cheerio's snout. “You can't butter me up. I am hopping mad.”

Officer K got up from her desk, walked over to Cheerio, and picked him up. He put his nose up to her mouth and took another whiff of the gum. His tail started to wag.

“I'll watch the dog while you two have your conversation,” she said. “Sounds like you have a lot to work out.”

“Thanks, Officer K,” I said, hoping to impress my dad with what good manners I was displaying. He wasn't impressed.

“Ready, begin,” he said. “And I mean now.”

“So listen, Dad,” I stammered. “You know how I have learning challenges and it's really difficult for me to focus sometimes.”

“Oh, that again,” my dad said. “I thought we had dealt with that.”

“Maybe you did,” I said. “But I'm sorry to tell you, Dad, my brain didn't. I keep trying to explain to you that it doesn't just go away.”

“And what does all that learning challenges business have to do with you being here in the police station?”

“I'm thinking that some of those things I have a hard time with—like paying attention and following directions and stuff—fell right out of my body and into Cheerio's. No matter what I tried at the park, he would get distracted by everything and cause trouble.”

“Which is why I had to bring him here,” Officer Quinn piped up. “I hated to do it, but your elongated dog racked up quite a list of complaints and almost caused bodily harm.”

My dad shot Cheerio a disapproving look. Cheerio kind of cocked his head to the side, as if to say, “Don't blame me, I couldn't help it.”

“I was there, Mr. Z,” Frankie said. “And it really wasn't Hank's fault. He was trying his hardest.”

“And Cheerio didn't even try to cooperate,” Ashley added.

“Listen, kids. I know you're concerned about your friend,” my dad said. “But this is between me and Hank.”

That certainly zipped their lips. When my dad's in one of his fact-finding moods, nothing can get in the way of what he needs to know.

“Officer Quinn,” my dad said, turning to him. “I apologize for my son's bad behavior and irresponsibility. But if you'll let him and the dog go, I promise you that I'll handle this matter at home.”

“I won't press charges,” Officer Quinn said, “if I see that they're going to learn something from this.”

“Oh, trust me, he'll learn,” my dad said. “He'll learn to love his bedroom, because that's where he's going to be until I decide it's time for him to come out. And allow me to say, Hank, that decision will not be made anytime soon.”

“If I could suggest another alternative,” Officer Quinn said. “We have a community service program that we find is very effective in dealing with young people in situations like this.” “Watch out, dude,” Frankie whispered. “I see some trash-picking-up duty in your future.”

He laughed but I didn't. He stopped immediately.

“Sorry,” he said. “Inappropriate.”

“As I was saying,” Officer Quinn went on. “There is a senior center on 85th between Broadway and Amsterdam. And I'm sure some of the seniors would be delighted to have a visit from an energetic young man such as yourself, Hank. You would put a smile on their face.”

“Can Cheerio come, too?” I asked. “He relates well to older people.”

“If you assure me that you can keep his behavior in check, that sounds like a good idea,” Officer Quinn said.

“He needs community service, too. Maybe even more than you.”

“I'll have him at the senior center starting tomorrow,” my dad said.

“And every afternoon for the next two weeks,” Office Quinn said.

“That doesn't include weekends, does it?” I asked.

“It most certainly does.”

My father turned to face me.

“So, Hank,” he stated. “Just know that for the next fourteen days, you can breathe, eat, sleep, go to school, and do your community service with full commitment.”

If you looked up “grounded” in the dictionary, you couldn't find a more complete definition.

And there you had it. My life, or lack thereof, by Hank Zipzer.

1. He got his leash wrapped around Fern Bristol's wheelchair and pulled her down the hall on a thrill ride. Her mouth was open but she was so scared nothing came out except her teeth.

2. He knocked over Mr. Parkins's and Mr. Adelman's chess game and ate a rook. Actually, he ate two rooks but he was stopped before he could start on the queen.

3. He joined in during their sing-along, howling away at “This Land is Your Land” until everyone stopped but Cheerio, who thought they had given him a solo.

4. He stuck his snout in Mr. Davis's trombone, and when Mr. Davis blew a high note, Cheerio's long floppy ears shot straight up to the ceiling.

5. He got into the kitchen and ate 183 cups of applesauce and four chocolate puddings, and burped for the rest of the afternoon. Mrs. Carew kept asking, “Are we in an orchard?”

6. He snatched Mr. Hudnut's straw hat and peed on it so much the straw got all soggy and I spent the next half hour airing it out with a hair dryer.

7. He wouldn't stop licking Mrs. Chow's elbows because she uses a lotion that is scented with coconuts. She told him, “Beat it, pal. You're barking up the wrong tree.”

8. He got into the art supplies, and let's just say, the art room at the senior center is now a red room.

9. He tried to play with a goldfish in the aquarium and scared that poor fish so much, it jumped out of its tank and down Mrs. Witt's blouse. It was never found again.

1. He sat in every single person's lap and brought a smile to each of their faces.

Papa Pete always says that there's a good side and a bad side to everything.

On the good side, working at the senior center made me feel great. I never knew seniors could be so much fun.

But on the bad side, working at the senior center took up every afternoon and all my free time. By the time I had dinner and finished my homework, there was not one second left to train Cheerio, which turned out not to matter because my dad forbid me to be in the mascot contest, anyway. He said that would teach me a life lesson in learning responsibility, although I personally don't get how
not
doing something teaches you responsibility. Seems to me like the lesson is “don't do things you really care about.” But then, I've never claimed to understand what goes on inside the mind of Stanley Zipzer.

I waited a couple of days to see if he would change his mind, but when he didn't, I couldn't put it off anymore. On Tuesday, three days before the contest, I went up to Ms. Adolf after class and broke the sad news to her.

“Ms. Adolf,” I began. I confess that my lower lip was trembling a little, which it does when I'm trying really hard not to cry. “I have to pull my dog Cheerio out of the mascot competition.”

She was at her desk, busy locking up her top drawer with the grey key she wears around her grey neck. She barely looked up and didn't seem to share any of my disappointment.

“I think you've made the right decision, Henry,” she said. “You shouldn't be wasting your time with that unruly dog, but rather applying yourself to the study of fractions.”

At that moment, Nick McKelty was walking by on his way to recess, and of course, his big ears heard everything.

“Don't worry about it, Zipperbutt. That ugly mutt of yours would have come in last, anyway. He didn't have a chance.”

“Butt out, McKelty. This is between me and Ms. Adolf.”