I Got a D in Salami #2 (9 page)

“Good for you,” the doorman said, adjusting the toothpick in his mouth. “Who's Mr. Gristediano?”

“He lives in apartment Four-B,” I said.

“Says you,” he answered.

“No, really,” I said. “Take a look.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the paper from the pad at the deli

“See,” I said, pointing to the address. “It's right there in black and white. Five-forty-one Riverside Drive.”

He glanced down at the paper, then back at me.

“Funny,” he said. “Looks to me like that says Four-fifty-one Riverside Drive.”

I looked down at the paper and stared at it for a minute. I couldn't believe my eyes. It
did
say 451. I must have flipped the numbers around. How could I have been so stupid? I can't even read three numbers the right way.

The truth is, I flip numbers around a lot. Sometimes I flip letters around too. Most of the time, I don't even know I'm doing it.

I hit my hand on the side of my head, as if I could knock some sense into my stupid brain.

“What is wrong with me?” I asked.

Papa Pete put his hand on mine. He has big hands, and when he touches you, it makes you feel safe.

“What's with the hitting yourself in the head?” he asked.

“I'm the stupidest person in the world,” was all I could answer.

“This isn't a tragedy, champ,” he said. “You just mixed up a couple of numbers. Worse things could happen.”

“You don't understand, Papa Pete, “I said. “Now we'll never catch up to Carlos. In fact, he's probably already delivered the salami platter to Mr. Gristediano.”

“So?” asked Papa Pete. “What's wrong with that?”

“Everything. Once Mr. Gristediano tastes that salami, it's over for us.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked. “The salami is delicious. I made it myself.”

“No.” I tried to explain. “You made another batch, not that one. There's something terribly wrong with the salami Carlos is taking to Mr. Gristediano. I ruined it. And now I've ruined Mom's business and her whole future, too. It's all my fault.”

I could feel the tears welling up at the corners of my eyes. Papa Pete looked from Frankie to Ashley to Robert, then back to me.

“Does everyone here know what's going on but me?” he asked.

They nodded.

“Then I think we have to talk,” said Papa Pete. “It's time for this mystery to end.”

WE SAT DOWN on a bench in Riverside Park. A couple little kids were playing nearby. They held hands and spun around in a circle until they got so dizzy that they fell down on the grass. Then they laughed like maniacs, got up, spun around, and fell down again. I love to hear little kids laugh. They sound like they don't have a problem in the world. I watched them for a minute, wishing I were that little again.

“Now, suppose you tell me exactly what is going on,” Papa Pete began.

“I don't know where to start,” I said.

“Try the beginning,” said Papa Pete.

I took a deep breath. Once I started talking, it felt so good to have the truth all come tumbling out. I told Papa Pete about my report card and the three
D
's. I explained that I was too ashamed to show that report card to my parents, so I had to pretend to lose it. When I got to the part about the deli and said that we hadn't planned to throw my report card in the meat grinder, Papa Pete held up his hand.

“Are you about to tell me that your report card is ground up in the salami that went to Mr. Gristediano?”

I nodded.

“Actually, there's a letter from Ms. Adolf and a large manila envelope in there, too,” Robert added.

“So that's why the big rush to get to Mr. Gristediano's—to get the salami back.”

Papa Pete had sure figured it out fast. I wondered if he had ever done anything this bad when he was younger.

“We all feel terrible,” Ashley said, “because we were part of this, too.”

Papa Pete gathered us around him.

“I want you to listen to me, grandkids,” he said. “People are just people. They make mistakes. A guy orders a tuna on rye, and you bring him a roast beef on wheat. It happens.”

Papa Pete turned to me.

“But this I know, grandson of mine. You can't lie to cover up your mistakes. You start with one little lie and it gets bigger and bigger, and before you know it, it's taken over everything. It's like dropping one little piece of herring in a tub of macaroni salad. Before long, the whole tub smells like fish. You follow what I'm saying?”

Actually, he kind of lost me with the herring in the macaroni story, but I think I got the general idea. He was saying that once you tell a lie, you just create more and more trouble for yourself. And boy, was he ever right.

“So we're going to fix this right now,” he said. “Hank, you're going to go to Mr. Gristediano's and get the salami back. We don't want anyone to get sick. Then you're going to tell your parents the truth.”

In my heart, I knew Papa Pete was right. As much as I didn't want to confess, it had to be done.

Frankie put his hand on my shoulder.

“Zip, buddy, I wish there was a magic word I could say to make this better,” he said.

“There is a magic word,” said Papa Pete, “and it works every time. It's called
the truth.”

IT WAS TWO blocks to Mr. Gristediano's apartment, and they seemed like the two longest blocks in the entire city. Now it was Papa Pete who was hurrying, because he was worried that someone would eat one of my
D
's, which might then cause the Big
D
, that
D
being diarrhea. I guess eating paper will do that to you, unless you happen to be a goat.

We tried running up Riverside Drive, but Cheerio was slowing us down again. He was stopping and sniffing every fire hydrant, tree, and doorway along the street. At home, he's happy just to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling, but now, when we were in a hurry, he'd suddenly turned into Mr. Curious.

“Come on, Cheerio, step on it,” I said to him.

“Actually, he's checking to see where other dogs have marked their territory,” Robert said.

“Robert, let's just say it like it is,” said Frankie. “He's sniffing pee.”

I picked up Cheerio and tucked him under my arm. He squirmed and wanted to jump out of my grasp, but I gave him no choice in the matter. Papa Pete was in front, running fast. He's pretty light on his feet for a guy who's going to be sixty-eight next June 26.

Here's something I never realized before. Cheerio is heavy when you're running. By the time we reached 451 Riverside Drive, my left arm had fallen asleep. So had Cheerio. I wondered how he could sleep with all that shaking and bouncing going on.

We stopped to catch our breath, which you could actually see coming out of our mouths in little puffs of steam. The building doorman was standing inside, watching us through the fancy glass panes in the door.

“Papa Pete, ” I said. “Will you tell the doorman he's got to let us in right away?”

“You can do it,” he said. “I'll wait downstairs. There's a nice sofa in the lobby.”

“You're not coming?”

Papa Pete shook his head. “You know what you have to do,” he said. “This is your mission. Accomplish it.”

Papa Pete was right. I had gotten us into this mess, and I had to get us out of it. I marched up to the door, pushed it open, and tried to look very important.

“Sir,” I said to the doorman. “We're from The Crunchy Pickle. We have to see Mr. Gristediano on a matter of utmost importance.”

“Says who?” the doorman answered, looking me up and down suspiciously. He obviously wasn't too impressed.

“Says all of us,” said Frankie, stepping up to my defense. “You know those platters of salami that were delivered a little while ago? We need to take them back immediately. They're very dangerous.”

“I never heard of a dangerous salami before,” the doorman said. “Except the one my brother-in-law Marvin ate once. Gave him so much gas he nearly blew himself up.”

He laughed really loudly.

“Actually, sir, those salamis are filled with pulp,” said Robert.

“Yeah,” he said, “so was my brother-in-law Marvin.” He laughed so hard that the gold buttons on his coat shook. “Hey, I'm just kidding with ya.”

“So can we go up now?” Ashley asked, bringing the conversation back around. Ashley's good at getting down to business.

“I'll call and let them know you're coming.”

I looked over at Papa Pete on the sofa. He gave me a quick thumbs-up. The doorman rang the button marked 4B.

“Yeah, I got some kids down here from The Crunchy Pickle,” he said into the telephone. “They say they got to check on the cold cuts.”

He paused and nodded, then turned to us.

“They're expecting you,” he said. “Fourth floor. Elevator's on your left.”

Before he let us pass, he pointed to Cheerio. “That mutt isn't going to make a mess, is he?”

“Oh, no, sir,” I whispered. “He's taking his daily nap, which lasts until at least five this afternoon.”

The doorman raised one eyebrow.

“He requires a lot of rest,” I said, as we made our way over to the elevator. The lobby was so beautiful, it was a shame no one lived in it. Two sparkly crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling. Along the wall to the elevator, there was a mural of people picnicking and dancing in the woods. One of the dancing women was mostly naked, but we were in such a hurry, I didn't even have time to check her out. The elevator was waiting for us and I bolted for it. Ashley and Frankie were right behind me. I pushed 4, and then I noticed we were missing someone.

“Where's Robert?” I said.

Frankie stuck his head out and looked for Robert. There he was, standing in front of the mural, staring at the mostly naked lady.

“Robert! Unpeel your eyeballs and get in here,” Frankie said.

Robert turned bright red. “Uh…I was just admiring the artwork,” he said.

“Right, and my name is Bernice,” Frankie answered.

“I just realized something,” Frankie said as we rode up. “I forgot my cape.”

“No problem,” I said, trying to stay calm. “We'll use your jacket.”

“No way, Zip. It'll stink of salami, and every dog in the neighborhood will chase me around for months.”

“Okay,” I said. “We'll figure something else out.”

“That's what I like. We'll go with the flow.” Frankie rubbed his hands together and looked me right in the eye. “So what's the plan, man?”

“First,” I said, “we'll get to the fourth floor.”

“Yeah?”

“Then we'll get out of the elevator.”

“Yeah?”

“Then we'll ring the doorbell.”

“Good thinking. And then?”

“And then…” I stopped and looked at Frankie. He was waiting with great expectation on his face.

“And then I don't have the slightest idea,” I said.

THE ELEVATOR DOORS opened and we got out. There was only one apartment on the whole floor. I had heard that in some fancy buildings in New York, the apartments are so big that they take up the whole floor of the building. I think it would be cool to live in a place like that. You could skateboard or scooter or Rollerblade up and down the hall and not disturb anyone.

The door to apartment 4B was down at the end of the hall. I glanced at Frankie, Ashley, and Robert. They were expecting me to be a leader. I wasn't going to disappoint them. I shifted Cheerio in my arms and rang the bell, hoping they didn't notice that my finger was shaking all the way to the buzzer.

A tall man in a blue suit answered the door. I don't want to say he was the meanest man I've ever seen, but let's just say he didn't look happy to see us.

“You must be Mr. Gristediano,” I said, trying to give him my biggest smile. “I'm Hank Zipzer. Happy to meet you, sir.”

I put my hand out in the basic handshake position. Papa Pete says you should always introduce yourself with a hearty handshake. It lets people know you're sincere.

“Sshhh,”
the man said, putting his finger to his lips.

“Of course,” I whispered. “Mr. Gristediano, this is very important.”

“Mr. Gristediano's over there,” the man in the blue suit said. “Can't you see he's conducting an important meeting?”

I stood on my tiptoes and got a peek into the living room. A group of seven or eight people, men and women in dress-up suits, were sitting around on big purple couches. The only man not wearing a tie was standing in front of a long table, on top of which sat my mom's platters. He was holding a cracker with a slice of soy salami on it, and he looked like he was about to put it in his mouth. I had to stop him!

“I have to get in there,” I blurted out.

Mr. Blue Suit put his finger to his lips.

“You don't understand,” I insisted. “I've got to stop Mr. Gristediano from eating that salami.”

“I'm going to have to ask you to leave,” he whispered harshly.

“But that salami he's about to eat, it's got my report card in it. Also, a letter from my teacher and a manila envelope. A
large
manila envelope.”

Mr. Blue Suit looked at me like I was a number one nutcase and started to close the door in my face. Suddenly, Cheerio woke up. I looked down at him, and he had a look on his face I had never seen before. I could have sworn he was smiling. His nose started to twitch, and his eyes locked on something in the living room.