Elvis and the Underdogs (11 page)

“I really hope all the important stuff wasn't in that airplane,” I said as I laid them all out on the bed.

“I'm not too worried, I've been trained in code cracking.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course he'd been trained in code cracking.

Here is what the planes said:

Paper Airplane #1:
Surprise! Congrats on the tenth hole in your punch card!

Paper Airplane #2:
At exactly 3:33 a.m., go to the far left elevator and push the SB3 button.

Paper Airplane #3: Blurry mess (thanks to Elvis).

Paper Airplane #4:
Bring a sweatshirt. It might get a little cold.

Paper Airplane #5:
Try not to get caught leaving your room.

Paper Airplane #6:
If you get caught, do not tell anyone anything.

Great, the third paper airplane probably said where we were going to go, I thought. I guessed now it really would be a surprise. It was already 3:27 a.m. I grabbed my sweatshirt and put on my slippers.

“We've got to go now. C'mon!”

“I don't think it's a good idea to roam the hospital at night. You should stay in bed, Benjamin.”

“Oh, come on. I'll be fine. I feel great. And Dino's a nurse. What are you? Chicken?”

“Of course not. I have very few fears. Well, I'm not thrilled to be in a thunderstorm, but I'm not scared of it either.”

“Then let's go.” I made a move toward the door, but Elvis blocked me.

“All I'm saying is you are in the hospital for a reason. Perhaps it's not the best time for an adventure. There are rules of conduct for every situation.”

“First off, I'm in the hospital because of you and your big mouth.”

“Please, pray tell, how this could possibly be my fault?”

“You're the one who talked, you're the one who told me that wackadoo story about being the president's dog, and then I told my mom, and she thought I was off my rocker, and here we are.”

Elvis stared at me. “Fine, I'll take my share of the blame, as perhaps I didn't have to lead with the White House, but still . . .”

“Stop wasting time. Why can't I just have some fun? More importantly, why can't you? You're just a dog, and I thought dogs were supposed to be fun.”

“How dare you, sir. You take that back!”

“What? How dare who? I'm sorry. What did I say?”

“I'm not
just
a dog. I'm a purebred, highly educated, superbly skilled dog who is probably smarter than you. Do you know CPR?”

“No. Do you know who all the presidents are?”

“Of course I do. Can you name all the capitals of all the states?”

“Yes. Do you know where Bora-Bora is on a globe?”

“Certainly. Can you tell me the year man first landed on the moon?”

“Duh. Do you know what pi is?”

“Who has pie? I love pie.”

“I'm not talking about pie you eat, I'm talking about the number pi.
P-I
. But I like pie too. Banana cream is my favorite. My mom makes a great one.”

“Yes, of course I know the number pi. How many digits can you do of pi?”

“3.141592653589. Thirteen. And you?”

“3.141592653589793238462. Twenty-two.”

“Show-off.” Fine, so maybe he was smarter than me. But why couldn't he ever act like a regular dog? “So can you even do any regular dog tricks? Can you catch a Frisbee?”

“Why on earth would I want to catch a Frisbee? I only do things that I believe will help serve mankind. I hardly think catching Frisbees does anything for the greater good of humanity.”

“Can you just talk normally? And I think dogs who catch Frisbees are really talented and lots of fun, so you may want to think about learning how.”

“What are you implying by that statement?”

“I'm not implying anything. I'm telling you you're not fun.”

“I am too.”

“Then let's go have some fun.” I started toward the door, stepping around Elvis. “Fine, don't come. See if I care. And besides, according to you, you're not my dog anyway, so it's all good.” And with that I popped my head out the door, looking both ways down the hall. The coast was clear, so I made a break for it and ran toward the elevators. Within two seconds Elvis was running by my side. He decided to come after all.

Luckily, we didn't see anyone, but it took a while before the far left elevator showed up. I pressed the down button, but by the time the right elevator came up, it was already 3:35 a.m. We were late. I hate being late. I pressed the SB3 button inside the elevator and noticed my breathing growing rapid and shallow. This is how most of my asthma attacks start. I get nervous, and then I get nervous that I'm getting nervous, and then I really get nervous about getting nervous. Then I take deep breaths so I calm down, but then it doesn't feel like I can get enough air into my lungs and that makes me even more nervous, which is when I take faster short breaths, which can sometimes give me the hiccups, and then . . .

Elvis pushed the red stop button with his nose. The elevator screeched to a halt. I've seen that happen in movies plenty, but I've never been in an elevator where someone did it before, and especially not a dog! Now I was really nervous.

“Benjamin. Everything is okay. You're okay. You need to try to calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down?! We're late and you just stopped the elevator, which is going to make us more late. Oh no, I'm feeling dizzy. Am I sweating? Is it warm in here? I'm gonna faint, aren't I?”

But just before I fainted, Elvis pushed me against the wall and licked my face. Blech, it was so gross and warm and slobbery, but also ticklish on my neck. I laughed, and suddenly I started to feel better again.

“Stop it! Stop it! That tickles.”

“Rule number one: Don't leave a room without me and in midconversation. It's rude,” Elvis said. “Rule number two: Don't get mad at me when I say I don't think it's a good idea for us to run around the hospital in the middle of the night. Rule number three: Don't tell me I'm not fun. I'm plenty fun. I can tell a knock-knock joke in French, so next week when I'm at my White House party, I'll be a laugh riot. And just in case I'm not being clear, you need to understand something. I'm not with you to be fun, I'm here to do my job, which is to protect you. I spent two years training so I could do my job right. I took and passed every single class at my dog academy. I can lead a blind person. I can detect heart attacks and alert people who are about to have a seizure. I can water rescue. I can get you out of a burning building. I can dig my way out of any yard. If you get lost, I can use smell to find you miles away. I can handle any dangerous situation and get you to safety easily and with confidence. I graduated at the top of my class. No other dog worked harder than me. I take my job very seriously. And when I know you're safe, you and I can chat and bicker and joke around and fight over dumb stuff, but my number-one job is to keep you safe. And yes, you are correct, technically I am not your designated service dog, but until this little mix-up is all cleared up, I strongly feel the honorable thing to do would be to fill in for now. I'm certain it is what the president would expect of me. So, are you feeling better now? Can I restart the elevator?”

I nodded. With that, Elvis walked over to the elevator knob, gently grasped it between his front teeth, and pulled it. The elevator moved again. I didn't say anything. Suddenly, I felt shy around Elvis.

“I get it. And I didn't mean to be rude. I just didn't want to be late.”

The elevator stopped at SB3. SB3 stands for subbasement level three, which was the very bottom of the entire hospital, because there was the basement level, subbasement level two, and then subbasement level three, where the morgue was located.

Wait a second . . . suddenly it all made sense. SB3 was the morgue! Dino was taking me to the morgue! When the doors opened, Dino was standing there with a huge smile on his face.

“No way! Are you . . . ? Are we . . . ? We're not really going to . . . ? I can't believe it!” I said to Dino as Elvis followed me into the hallway and I stared at a sign that was posted on the wall. It clearly said
MORGUE
.

“Whoa, is that a dog or a bear?” Dino said as soon as he saw Elvis.

“It's a dog. His name is Elvis.”

“Elvis? Whoa, cool name.”

“See, I told you it was cool,” I said to Elvis.

“Are you talking to the dog?” Dino cocked his head and looked at me.

“The dog's official name is Parker Elvis Pembroke IV, but I call him Elvis. What do you think?”

Dino held out his giant hand for Elvis's giant nose to smell, and then he patted him on his head. Dino talked to Elvis loudly and slowly, kind of the way my mom talks to my dad's mom, who currently lives in a rest home in California.

“Hello, doggie. My name is Dino. You are really big.”

“You're one to talk,” Elvis barked.

“Hey, I felt like he understood me.” Dino smiled. “Too bad neither of us speaks dog so we'd know what he said, right?”

“Oh I doubt he said anything interesting anyway,” I said. “Let's go.”

“You know, Benji, if you're scared or freaked out, we don't have to do this,” Dino said.

I was terrified and really, really freaked out, but I really,
really
wanted to go. I've always been curious about the morgue, and I've seen a dead body or two on television, but I've never seen one in person.

“Are we going to see a dead body?”

Dino knows me well, so he knew my anxiety level was pretty high. He watched me carefully and said that we didn't have to see a dead body if I didn't want to, but that we could at least walk around down there.

“Think of the stories you can tell all your friends at school,” he said.

“Yeah, that's for sure.”

I said this as though it was true. I didn't want to admit I don't actually have any real friends at school. But there were a few people I could tell, like my mom, and the twins, my dad, Ms. Hensel the librarian, and probably Ms. Blaine, but that might be risky, because she's the type of teacher who'd offer me extra credit if I turned it into a class presentation, “Me and My Trip to the Morgue,” a diorama by Benji Wendell Barnsworth. Normally, I'd tell Dino and Dr. Helen my stories, but obviously Dino is part of the story, and I'm betting Dino wouldn't want me sharing this adventure with Dr. Helen, since she was basically his boss. But I have to admit that the very first person who popped into my head when he said that was Taisy McDonald.

“Dino, I didn't know you were Taisy's uncle,” I said. “Did you know she's in my class at school?”

“What? Get out of here! You go to Saint Elmo's Street Elementary School?”

“Yup.”

“I guess I assumed you were way younger than Taisy. No offense, little man, but she's almost twice your size.”

“Just because I'm shorter doesn't mean I'm younger. Spending lots of time in hospitals put my reading level ahead of other kids.”

“Taisy's a good girl. My favorite niece is the daughter of my least favorite brother. Go figure, huh?”

I could tell he didn't really want to discuss it anymore, and besides, the morgue probably wasn't the place for idle chitchat about the people we had in common outside of the hospital. I definitely wanted to know more about Taisy, but I'd have to wait.

“Earth to Benji. Come in, come in.”

“What? Oh, sorry. I want to do this.”

“You're sure?”

“No, but I want to do it anyway.”

“Man, I can see the little hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up.”

“Dino, I want to do this.”

Elvis sensed my nervousness, or perhaps the fact that my teeth were chattering even though I wasn't cold was a giveaway, but he placed his nose under my left arm and tossed his head so that my hand landed on top of his head, making me pet him.

Elvis spoke quietly. “Petting dogs helps people with high blood pressure relax. And Benjamin, you need to relax.”