Elvis and the Underdogs (23 page)

Elvis wagged his tail. “No kidding, you and me both.”

Billy banged on the window when he was done, which made us both jump back. Elvis snorted, “That kid really has appalling manners.”

“Don't make fun of him—he's had a tough life.”

“Pish-posh, Benjamin, what you will soon find out is that everyone has a tough life. What counts is how you handle your unfortunate circumstances. It's called character, and I'm trying to build yours up, but you already have a pretty decent foundation. This Billy kid, he's trouble. I can smell it. Just because he's had to deal with lots of hardship doesn't mean he has the right to make other people's lives hard too.”

“He did save my life when he injected me with the EpiPen.”

“I'm the one who brought it to you, and I would have injected you, but I don't have thumbs. And I watched him when he did it, and he looked like he almost enjoyed sticking it to you.”

Elvis and I walked outside. Billy had done a pretty good job of securing the wagon to the back of the go-kart.

“Are you sure it's safe?”

“Sure I'm sure. Don't be such a baby!”

“I'm not a baby, I'm just saying I don't know if I can get him to sit in there. He may not even fit. It looks too narrow for his, uh, big-boned bottom.”

“Fine, you sit in there then. He can ride shotgun with me. C'mon, let's get a move on. I have some chores to do before my mom gets home.”

“Elvis, get up front. I'm going to ride in the back.” I noticed that Billy had made a seat belt for the back with some nylon straps. “You promise you won't drive too fast?”

“Just shut up and get in already. Why are you so whiny?”

And there he was, the old Billy. I guess some things never really change.

“Do you want to just walk? Because I'm fine with that too, though you could have told me you were going to weenie out before I used up all my duct tape.”

“I'm not weenieing out!”

“Then get in.”

No one makes me angrier than Billy Thompson. He makes me feel powerless, which I hate. I climbed into the red wagon. Elvis just stared at me and shook his head.

“Elvis, get in. I'm back here because of you anyway.”

The ride was terrifying, exhilarating, scary, extremely bumpy, loud, and very much like a roller coaster at the amusement park, except that it lasted much longer than the typical minute and a half. Billy was a pretty good driver, and most of the streets had sidewalks. When we were only a few blocks from my house, Billy turned down a side street.

“Billy! What are you doing? I live three blocks straight ahead.”

“I think we're being followed,” he said in a low voice.

I started to look around, but he said sharply, “Don't turn around. I don't want them to know we know.”

“What do you mean we're being followed? Billy, are you playing a joke on me? Seriously, I really just want to go home.” Elvis turned around and gave me a look. “Elvis, is he serious?”

“Dude, did you just ask your dog a question?”

Elvis barked, “It's true. We are being followed. And you should tell your rude friend that if this stupid go-kart had a passenger rearview mirror, it would be more helpful.”

“Dude, did your dog just answer you?” Billy stepped on the gas, and we took off again. He drove crazy fast for the next two blocks and then made a sharp right turn, which almost flung me out of the wagon. I was gripping so hard my hands hurt. Billy finally lurched to a stop behind some tall hedges.

“Okay, party's over. Get out.”

“You think someone is following us, and you're just going to dump us on the side of the road?”

“Yup. Plus I gotta get home. So vamoose.”

I would never understand this kid, ever. I loosened the nylon straps along my legs and stepped out of the wagon. Of course, my right leg had fallen asleep, and when I tried to stand on it, I lost my balance and fell over in the yard. Elvis picked me up pretty quickly, but there was no way Billy didn't see it. “Well, thanks for the ride.”

“Yeah, whatever. You owe me gas money now. I'll collect later. And I'm not lying. I don't have your dumb lug nut thingie.”

This time I believed him. Maybe Alexander was right.

“Okay, Billy. I'm sorry I accused you. That was wrong of me. And I also want to say maybe you're not as mean as I thought you were. Okay, you're not that nice, but maybe it's not your fault. I mean, it is kind of your fault, because you don't really have to pick on kids who are weaker than you, but maybe you do it because your own life has been pretty sucky. I'm really sorry that your dad died.”

Billy laughed. Okay, again, not the response I was expecting from him. “My dad didn't die in the accident. He still lives in Michigan. My parents got divorced last year, and my mom and I moved here to be closer to my granddad.” All of a sudden he was serious again. “But just because I told you about my dad, don't think we're friends. Or that you really know anything about my life. Sure I may only have one foot, but I'm still faster, stronger, and cooler than you and your two feet. The only days you should feel bad for me are when it's really hot out, because I don't like to wear shorts. Later.”

Billy hit the gas and took off. I heard him laughing all the way down the street. I just shook my head. I was pretty sure singing prison songs would come in handy for him one day.

As soon as he was gone, a large black SUV pulled over right in front of us. Elvis leaped into action and dragged me back five feet from the sidewalk into someone's yard. He then stood in front of me. The tinted window rolled down. We were being followed by . . . Taisy!

“Hey, guys! I thought that was you two. Of course, it's pretty hard to miss a giant dog riding a go-kart. It's not really a sight you see every day. Anyway, I have Princess Daisy with me. Can she meet Elvis now? See, Daddy? Do you remember Elvis from the hospital two days ago?”

“Yes, Taisy, he is a good-looking dog,” I heard Taisy's dad say inside the car. Elvis beamed. I've never met a dog who loves being fawned over more.

Taisy got out of the car, leaving the door wide open.

“So do you want to meet Princess Daisy?”

“Sure, I'd love to meet Princess Daisy. Where is she?” I asked, turning my head toward the open door.

I was expecting Princess Daisy to get out of the world's largest SUV, but instead she popped out of Taisy's purse just like a piece of toast. She was a tan French bulldog with a little bit of Chihuahua in there, and she was very cute. On her pink blinged-out collar there was a daisy that was almost as big as her whole head. She just sprang out of Taisy's bag straight up into the air, and instinctively I put my hands out and caught her. I sorta wished the twins were around to see it, because whenever they throw anything at me that I'm not expecting (like all the time), I'm always surprised and drop it. I have bad hand-eye coordination, bad reflexes, bad grip, bad timing, and well, you get what I'm saying.

But I caught Princess Daisy. She licked my face, and I laughed because it tickled. This was when Taisy leaned in so close I could smell her strawberry lip gloss. She whispered, “We made it back two minutes before my dad showed up. Billy's a really good driver. It was super fun.” She then straightened up and said in her regular voice, probably more for her dad's benefit than my own, “She likes you, and Princess Daisy is very picky about who she likes and who she doesn't.”

Taisy sounded happy, and I was happy that Taisy was happy, and I was really happy she and Alexander hadn't gotten into any trouble while helping me try to get my lug nut back. I couldn't believe that just twenty minutes ago Taisy was losing it and biting everyone's head off, and now she was back to being super-girlie-sweet Taisy. It was like a female Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde scenario, big-time. Then I noticed Princess Daisy's tiny little nails were painted pink. I looked at Taisy in surprise.

“What?” she said. “Just because I'm better than most boys in sports doesn't mean I can't be girlie too. Girls are very complicated, Benji. That's what makes us so special.”

I shrugged. She'd get no lip from me on the subject. I had already learned from my mom how complicated women can be. All this time Taisy's dad was checking out Elvis, and finally Elvis must have smelled Princess Daisy (she smelled like a warm peach pie, by the way), and he came over.

So my mom watches a lot of those mushy movies. She says there's nothing better than chocolate and a movie about love. Because I'm sick and home a lot, I've seen a lot of them with her. I can't say I like them as much as she does, because I'm not a girl, but I will admit that sometimes I understand why she likes them. I guess my favorite part about them is the guaranteed happy ending. I also like slow motion, and they do that a lot in those types of movies. Sometimes I feel like life just goes by too quickly, and I wish that I had a master remote control button where I could just slow things down and watch them again, kinda like that time when Elvis was flying through the morgue on that steel table.

Well, every now and again in real life, you see things in slow motion. I'm not saying it's happened to me all that often, and maybe it only happens when it's about true love . . . but when Elvis saw Princess Daisy, I swear I looked up to see if there were any cartoon bluebirds circling above his head. He glanced over at me, looked away, and then did a double take so fast I'm surprised he didn't get whiplash. It's like he looked over and saw boring old Benjamin and then he looked away, but then his brain caught up with his eyes and he was like, wait, what was that in his arms? And then he looked again.

His jaw dropped when he saw Princess Daisy. Seriously, his mouth opened, and a big old strand of drool fell right out. Probably not the best first impression, but at least it was sincere. When Elvis came bounding over to say hello, that's when it was like slow motion. I saw every strand of hair on his long, fluffy coat, and he whipped his head around, which caused his drool to go flying out of his mouth, and suddenly everyone was ducking for cover. Taisy, because she has amazing reflexes, ducked and managed to miss the flying spit. I wasn't so lucky, as I caught a big glob right above my left eye. Gross.

Then suddenly Elvis was face-to-face with Princess Daisy, and he sat very politely and was very still. I held out Princess Daisy so she could sniff Elvis, and it seemed she approved, because she wagged her tail in my arms.

“She likes you,” I said.

Taisy scooped Princess Daisy out of my arms and put her on the ground next to Elvis. Trust me, no two dogs could look more different. Princess Daisy was pretty much the size of one of Elvis's paws. Taisy said she thought Princess Daisy liked Elvis. And I told Taisy I thought Elvis more than just liked Princess Daisy. Then we both got embarrassed, and luckily, we were saved by Taisy's dad, who got out of the car and came over to say it was time for them to go.

It was hard to separate Elvis from Princess Daisy, but Taisy had a meeting with one of her private coaches. I said I had to go too, not because I had anything important to do, but because if I didn't get home soon, my mom would probably call in the SWAT team to come find me. Everyone laughed. I almost said that I was being totally serious, but I decided to just let it go.

The last four blocks to home, Elvis was floating on air. If a dog could hum, Elvis would have. I was about to tease him, but then I realized I hate getting teased myself. And why should I tease him anyway? So what if he liked Taisy and Princess Daisy? I liked them too.

Elvis and I rounded the
corner to my house, and I saw two black sedans out front, one parked in the driveway and the second one parked on the street. It looked really odd, so we stopped and stared. Elvis took one glance at the license plates and told me they were definitely Secret Service cars.

He nudged me forward, and pretty soon we were running toward the house. When I got up to the door, a man opened it before I had a chance to. I was out of breath from running, my heart pounding. My mom was serving cake and tea in our living room to three men with black suits on. Not a single one of them smiled.

“Benji, are you okay? Why are you late from school?” my mom asked.

“I'm fine, Mom. I'm late because . . . well, uh, we ran into Taisy and her dad on the street, and Taisy wanted her dog, Princess Daisy, to meet Elvis. I think Elvis is in love with Princess Daisy. I could tell, because it looked like one of those lovey-dovey mushy movies you watch on TV where people see each other and it's love at first sight, but this time it was the doggy version.”

When I'm nervous, I talk too fast and too much, and it was worse in this case, because I was only telling a half-truth. It was true that we'd run into Taisy and her dad, but I conveniently left out the part where Elvis saved a nondrowning man, we went to Billy's house, and oh yeah, how I almost died when I ate a walnut by accident.