Cheesie Mack Is Not a Genius or Anything (10 page)

“What if she’s not married?” He had a little smile on his face because he knew that I knew he was right. So I erased again and wrote:

“What about vampires?” Georgie asked, leaning over me and baring what he thinks are his fangs but are actually just pointed canine teeth that stick out a bit. (
Canine
means “doglike.” If you want to know which are your canine teeth, just look at your dog or any dog. The biggest, sharpest ones … those are canines. In humans, too. How do I know this stuff about teeth? I have a very talkative dentist.)

Georgie has braces on his teeth, so that even with his sharp canines, he looks like a kid with metal in his mouth. He is not the least bit vampirish. I ignored him and continued writing:

“You misspelled
envelope,”
Georgie said.

“Did not,” I replied. “It doesn’t have to have an
e
at the end. It can be spelled either way. You can look it up. Anyway, I left the
e
off on purpose so our note would be more mysterious.”

“Lame,” Georgie muttered.

Just to please him, I stuck the
e
back in.

Actually I did look
envelop
up, and darn it, Georgie was right. The two words are pronounced differently:
envelop
= en-VEH-lop, but
envelope
= EN-veh-lope. They also have different meanings. I found an explanation on a college website, Canada’s University of Victoria:

I could have left this
envelop/envelope
stuff out, but like I said, I don’t cheat, even if it means I lose. And anyway, Georgie, who never gets excellent grades in spelling, is reading this over my shoulder while I’m writing, and he is insisting I leave it in.

Here’s what the note looked like when it was finished:

“And we need to have a way to get an answer,” Georgie added.

He was right again, so I added something at the bottom:

When I looked up from my writing, Georgie had
gotten into his swimsuit and tucked his towel and clothes into a backpack.

I put the necklace and the penny back into the old envelope—I didn’t put the folded paper in with them because Georgie had burned one corner and smudged pencil lead on it. I grabbed my backpack and put the Prott note and the old envelope in it.

“We have three important things to do this afternoon,” I said as I changed into my swimsuit. “First, we drop off the note. Second, we go to the party and have fun. Third, and most important, we figure out how to get back at my tattletale sister.”

The day was warm and sunny, perfect for the outdoor school party. As we biked toward The Haunted Toad, we decided that I would deliver the note because I am the fastest runner, and Georgie would hold our bikes.

When we got to Eureka Avenue, a police car drove past us.

“Don’t worry, he’s just on patrol,” Georgie said.

I looked at him quizzically (another word Dad
taught me). “Why should we be worried? We aren’t going to break any laws, so we don’t have to worry about being worried.”

Even so, we waited until the patrol car disappeared around the corner, then rode up the street and stopped next to a bunch of trash cans between The Haunted Toad and the next house. We got off and stood staring at the old green-gray building.

“Someone … or something … is watching us,” I whispered.

“Vampires, probably,” Georgie replied softly.

I knew he was kidding, but as I looked up at the old house, even though everything looked just like it always had, I had the feeling that it was different.

“Come on!” Georgie whispered loudly. “You want me to do it?”

I glared at him. “I’ll do it. You just hold my bike and be ready to pedal fast!”

I waited until another car drove by, then squinched (I made this word up … it means squeezing along inch by inch) through some bushes at the end of the front fence and began sneaking soundlessly across
the front yard like a ninja or an Indian stalking a deer.

(Granpa, who thinks he knows all about Indians and forests and stuff because he’s director of our summer camp, once told me, “No one, not Cochise or Sitting Bull or the Last of the Mohicans, could walk on leaves and twigs without crunching.” Granpa: When you read this, please believe me. There were plenty of twigs, leaves, and other junk on The Haunted Toad’s lawn, but I walked with absolutely no crunching noise. It
can
be done!)

I leaned on the railing as I climbed the three front steps, so that my weight on the stairs would be very light and maybe they wouldn’t squeak.

They didn’t squeak.

I put the folded note in the crack where the door opens, pounded twice on the door, and ran full blast for my bike.

(Granpa: Don’t ask. I admit to lots of crunching on the way back.)

Our getaway was not as smooth as we had planned. Here’s why:

Even with our bumbling, bungled, butt-banging, bike-breaking escape, we were eight houses down the block and almost out of sight before anyone could’ve come to the door of The Haunted Toad. I flipped my bike upside down and began speedily reattaching the chain.

(I like the word
speedily
. It’s one of those words that sounds like what it means … at least to me. Some others are
gargoyle
—sounds monstrous and evil;
lizard
—sounds scaly and fast-moving; and
carnival—
sounds bouncy and fun. I am building a collection of words like this on my website. If you want to add one to my list—and I don’t mean obvious words that imitate sounds like
buzz
or
plop
or
fizzle
—please go to my website.)

I had just righted my bike when that police car passed us going back toward The Haunted Toad. Georgie spun his bike around, straddled it, and looked at the car. About a second later, I did, too.

The squad car continued until it was just about even with The Haunted Toad, then stopped in the middle of the street.

“What’s he doing?” I wondered out loud.

“Come on!” Georgie said, riding away.

Before I could follow, a woman (G. J. Prott?) stepped onto the sidewalk and waved her arms at the police car. When she pointed in our direction, it was as if that arm froze me. I couldn’t move.

The police car U-turned and drove up right next to me. The policeman stared without speaking. He looked angry or mean or both. He turned toward
Georgie, who was two houses away, stuck an arm out the patrol car’s window, and motioned. Georgie rode back and stopped next to me.