Barfing in the Backseat (2 page)

T
HAT LIST REALLY
came in very handy. In fact, I used numbers one, two, and three on my dad right away.

“Wow,” I said to him. “Oh wow. I mean, wowee wow wow wow.”

That pretty much did it for the wows, and they seemed to satisfy my dad. He pulled up a kitchen chair and poured himself some Raisin Bran. All you could hear was the clock ticking on the wall above the stove and my dad crunching on his cereal. He liked to eat it before the milk made it into mush.

“You kids are in luck,” he said, breaking the silence. “When I saw that the crossword puzzle tournament fell during your winter vacation, I said to myself, this is the chance of a lifetime for a great family road trip. Don’t you agree, Hank? Can’t you just feel the buzz of excitement?”

“It sounds really…uh…let’s see…um…it sounds…uh…really stimulating, Dad. If you’re a crossword puzzle fan, that is.”

“And who isn’t?” my dad asked.

Is he kidding?
I can’t even spell “neighbor” without mixing up the “i” and the “e,” let alone figure out a nine-letter word for a monkey’s belly button. All those downs and acrosses make my eyes spin. Of course, my eyes spin when I’m just reading a regular book. I think it’s fair to assume that a guy like me, with learning differences up the wazoo, is probably never ever going to shake hands with a crossword puzzle.

“You know, Dad,” I said, clearing my bowl and putting the box of cereal back on the shelf in the pantry, “it just occurred to me that sometimes I get carsick on long trips. I’m thinking that to be sure I don’t mess up the upholstery in the minivan, maybe I’ll call Frankie and ask if I can stay with him.”

“But you’d miss the crossword puzzle tournament,” my dad said. “Hank…it’s the Grand Nationals.”

I didn’t know how to tell my dad that I wasn’t exactly thrilled to watch a bunch of
older folks pushing their mechanical pencils around a crossword puzzle for a couple of days.

“Hank,” my mom said, “I’ve done a little research on the Internet, and I found out that within a ten-minute drive of Dad’s tournament is some kind of roller coaster park which is supposed to be quite famous. The Colossus something…I forget the exact name.”

My world came to an immediate stop.

“Mom, you’re not talking about Colossus Coaster Kingdom in North Carolina, are you?”

“Yes, honey, that’s exactly the name of it. You know about it?”

“Are you kidding? Colossus Coaster Kingdom is world-famous. It’s got the seven biggest roller coasters in the whole United States. It’s the home of the Howling Tornado, the Tower of Fear, and the Super Duper Looper!”

“I’m getting nauseous just thinking about them,” Emily said.

“That’s because you don’t appreciate the fine art of roller coaster riding,” I snapped at her. “Did you know that the Super Duper Looper turns you upside down seven times within thirty-seven seconds?”

“Like you even know how long the ride is,” Emily said.

“I know that it wouldn’t make me throw up, unlike someone I know who tossed her cookies on the Camp Snoopy baby train at the Long Island County Fair.”

I knew that would make her mad. Emily hates to be reminded that she’s a barfer.

“Hey, I couldn’t help it,” she said, her face turning all red. “I had just eaten a hot dog and had a poor reaction to the very sour sauerkraut, which has been proven to be a highly difficult food to digest.”

“Would you like to have a chance to ride those roller coasters, honey?” my mom asked me.

“It would be a dream come true,” I said, and I meant every word.

“Well, Hank, here’s your opportunity,” my dad added.

“This is so cool. Frankie loves roller coasters and he’s going to be
so
jealous!”

“Tell them the best part, Stanley,” my mom said with a smile.

“Your mother and I have decided that each
of you can bring one friend on the road trip!”

“I’ll call Frankie!” I dashed for the phone. Suddenly I stopped. Frankie Townsend was my best friend, but my other best friend was Ashley Wong. What if she wanted to go, too? How could I choose just one?

“Wait a minute. Maybe I’ll call Ashley. No, Frankie. No, Ashley. No, Frankie. I don’t know who to call.”

“Let me stop you before your brain fries,” Emily said. “I happen to know that Ashley is going to soccer camp at the Y over winter break. She told me that when we were riding up in the elevator yesterday. So she couldn’t go, anyway.”

“Wow, that takes the pressure off. I’ll call Frankie.”

“And which friend are you going to bring, sweetie?” my mom asked Emily.

“My best friend in the whole world,” she answered.

“Oh no, not Sally Dink Dink,” I said. “She smells like stinky cheese.”

“First of all, her name is Sally van Oberdink,” Emily snarled. “Her grandparents are Dutch.”

“Oh, that’s where the cheese comes in.” I laughed. I have no idea what that meant, but it tickled me to no end.

“And second of all, she is definitely not my best friend,” Emily went on, ignoring the fact that snorty little giggles were coming out of my nose. “But we know who is, don’t we? And here she comes now.”

I heard a scratching on the yellow linoleum kitchen floor and looked up to see Katherine, Emily’s pet iguana, clawing her way over to us, looking very prehistoric.

“Wait a minute, Emily,” I said. “I can’t believe you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting. You’re going to invite the lizard?”

“Her name is Katherine,” Emily sniffed. “And you know very well she’s an iguana, Hank. She is offended by being called a lizard. Just look at how you made her eye twitch.”

Katherine hissed at me and shot her gray tongue out so far it almost touched my new snow boots. One thing you for sure don’t want on your new snow boots is reptile saliva. I had the feeling it would eat right through the rubber.

“Oh, excuse me, Katherine,” I said, jumping back to avoid another attack of iguana-tongue goo. “The word ‘lizard’ will never come out of my mouth again. It will be replaced by ‘the ugly slithering one’ from now on.”

Just at that moment, Katherine lifted her upper lip, showing a few of her 180 pointy yellow teeth, and hissed again like a hungry snake.

“I think she speaks for herself,” Emily said. “Enough said.”

“Mom,” I pleaded. “You’re not really going to let Katherine come on our road trip. I mean, aren’t there friend rules? Like they have to have two legs. And hopefully no tail? Oh wait, that would eliminate Emily’s other friends, too.”

“Well, I don’t see why Katherine can’t come,” my mother said. “She doesn’t eat much. She can ride in her crate. And she never argues over what radio station we’re going to listen to. What do you say, Stanley?”

My dad wasn’t listening. He had picked up the
New York Times
and was busy working on the crossword puzzle as fast as he could. His stopwatch was propped up on the table.

“Stanley, did you hear me?” my mom asked him.

“Yes, Randi. Whatever you say is fine.”

“So it’s settled,” my mom said. “Hank, you’ll invite Frankie. And Katherine will be joining us as Emily’s special friend.”

“And we’ll ride roller coasters until we barf to our hearts’ content,” I added.

I laughed as I headed for the door. Even the idea of seeing my teacher Ms. Adolf at school didn’t seem so bad. It’s amazing what the thought of roller coasters can do to a guy’s mood.

T
HE GREAT NEWS
was that Frankie’s mom and dad said he could come with us on the road trip. Well, at first they said no because they wanted Frankie to be home for Christmas. But then my dad worked it out so the whole trip would only take eight days—four days to drive to North Carolina, two days at the crossword puzzle tournament and roller coaster park, and two days to drive straight back to New York. Four plus two plus two—let’s see—that is eight days, right? Help me out here, readers. You know I have math issues.

Anyway, the point is, when my dad told Frankie’s dad that he could get him home the day before Christmas, Frankie got the big okay. I have to give credit to my dad. He was really trying to make this a great family trip.

Frankie and I spent every night that week
in our clubhouse in the basement of our apartment building, poring over pictures of Colossus Coaster Kingdom. I was drooling over the Super Duper Looper the most. Frankie couldn’t choose his favorite, but it was between Freefall and the Stomach Slam. I have to admit, they both looked awesome.

I didn’t tell Frankie this, but I was keeping my fingers crossed the whole week that I would meet the height requirement for the roller coasters. When I wasn’t staring at pictures of roller coasters, I was in my room practicing standing on my tiptoes so when they measured me, I could eke out every fraction of an inch I have. I even tried wearing three pairs of socks to lift me just a squidge higher on the old Height-O-Meter.

Well, maybe four pairs.

Okay, five, but I promise that was the max. Wearing tennis shoes with five pairs of socks can get a little toasty, not to mention the tightness-around-your-foot factor. I think my toes lost weight.

It seemed like it took forever to get to Friday, the last day of school before winter break. And
on Friday, it seemed like it took forever to get to three o’clock. Frankie and I spent the whole afternoon staring at the clock, ticking down the minutes and seconds to freedom.

Eight…seven…six…five…four…three…two…one.

Bbrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiingg!
Yay, there it was! The last school bell before winter break. Everyone in class exploded out of their chairs and headed for the door. I threw myself into the crowd, and had the bad luck to get wedged in too close to Nick McKelty’s armpit. I don’t think McKelty has made contact with water or soap for six months. The smell that came off him actually curled my nose hairs. I could tell because I felt them rolling up and down in my nasal passage. And I’m not exaggerating, either.

“Where are you rushing to, Zipperbutt?” McKelty snarled.

“Only the best road trip ever,” I said, being careful to speak without breathing in through my nose.

“A road trip? That is so pathetic,” McKelty said. “Me and my dad are taking our own private helicopter to Florida where we’re suiting
up to be part of the astronaut program.”

“That’s great, McKelty,” I shot back. “Going back to Mars where you came from? I hear being green is accepted there, so you’ll fit right in.”

McKelty hasn’t said one true thing in his whole smelly life. We call it the McKelty Factor, which is truth times a hundred. I’m sure he wasn’t going to be in an astronaut program. I’m sure he wasn’t leaving New York City. In fact, I’ll bet he wasn’t even going to leave his La-Z-Boy armchair where he does nothing but sit and eat Ding Dongs and watch the Cartoon Network all day.

I steered by McKelty, making sure I didn’t get in his downdraft. One more whiff of him, and I was in danger of my nose actually falling off my face.

“Mr. Zipzer,” I heard as I was almost out of the room. “Would you stay behind for a moment?”

My heart stopped. That was Ms. Adolf’s voice. What could she possibly want with me? I can tell you this. When Ms. Adolf asks you to stay behind for a moment, nothing good is
going to come from it.

“Looks like Zipperbutt’s vacation is getting off to a rocky start,” McKelty said, walking backward through the door. “Ta-ta, sucker. I’ll be watching you from space.”

I grabbed hold of Frankie’s arm.

“You and Ashley wait for me outside. This will only take a second.”

Oh did I wish. I hoped. I prayed.

“No worries, dude,” Frankie said. “Ms. Adolf probably just wants to know where you’re going for the vacation.”

“Or maybe she wants to compliment you on the great job you did on your oral report on how to achieve perfect balance on a scooter,” Ashley suggested. She adjusted her glasses, which were decorated with baby blue rhinestones, the way she does when she’s worried about something. I could tell she wasn’t so sure that I was heading for a compliment.

“That was a cool report,” Nico Lubkeman chimed in from where he was standing out in the hall. Nico just moved to my school from California, and he is a great scooter rider. I mean, he’s a master on two wheels.

“Thanks, Nico,” I said, giving him a big high five. Ashley and Frankie did, too. As my best friends, Frankie and Ashley always look on the positive side for me.

Unfortunately, Ms. Adolf doesn’t. As a matter of fact,
positive
was not one of her vocabulary words growing up.

I walked over to Ms. Adolf’s desk and waited quietly while she shuffled through the second drawer on the left side of her desk. Or maybe it was the right side. Even under perfect conditions, I can’t tell left from right. So I certainly couldn’t do it now while I was waiting to see what lousy thing Ms. Adolf had in store for me.

She took out a manila folder that was stuffed with papers. It was about as thick as the New York phone book. When she took out the papers and reached for her stapler, I knew I was in deep trouble.

“Henry,” she began. “I have something for you for your vacation.”

“Thanks so much for thinking of me, Ms. Adolf, but I’m already packed and I can’t fit another thing in my suitcase. Have a great two weeks.”