Philip and the Sneaky Trashmen (9781619502185) (7 page)

“
If somebody’s standing up,
how could he have sat in pants or sat in swimming trunks or sat
in
anything?”

“
Oh boy, Philip. Listen, we
have to tell somebody he has satin pants. That’s all.”

Philip threw his arms into the air.
“Who would care if he sat in pants or danced in pants or pooped his
pants?”

“
Philip, your Aunt Louise
had satin pants, remember?”

“
Remember? When she wears
pants, she sits in them. What’s to remember?”

Emery took a turn throwing his arms
into the air.

“
Arrgghh!
Can we go to your house, Philip? Don’t talk.
Let’s go to your house.”

Philip and Emery hustled down the
street tossing each other dirty looks. When they got inside
Philip’s house, the house was empty.

Emery said, “Show me the pants your
aunt gave as a present.”

“
They must be upstairs. I
think my mother wore them last night.”

The boys ran up the steps, and Philip
led Emery into his parents’ bedroom.

“
There, the red
ones.”

Emery picked up the pants and shook
them in front of Philip. “See, your mother has satin pants! Just
like the truck driver had satin pants.”

“
Emery,” Philip shouted at
his friend, “my mother wore them last night, so of course she sat
in them! They went to a restaurant. You think she ate standing
up?”

“
Not sat in them. Your aunt
had satin pants and lost them.”

“
My aunt lost her pants?
How could she lose her pants if she was sitting in them?” Philip
glared a challenge at his friend.

“
Oh boy, don’t ever call me
a dope again. Look, these are
satin
pants,” Emery screeched, shaking the red slacks
in his hand even harder than before. He tossed them back onto the
bed and grabbed a handful of the jeans Philip had on.
“
These
are
not
satin
pants.”

Philip took a breath. He lowered
himself slowly onto the bed. “Are these sat in pants now that I’m
sitting on them?”

“
No, no, no. What is wrong
with you?” Emery grabbed the red slacks again. “These are
satin
. Feel them. That’s
satin. It has nothing to do with sitting anyplace. This is satin.
This . . .” He touched his own jeans. “. . . is dungaree or cotton
or whatever. Satin is this smooth stuff. I told you. My parents
have bed sheets like this. Satin sheets. You don’t think they sleep
sitting up, do you? Don’t you listen?”

“
When you don’t talk
nonsense I listen, and you just talked nonsense. You said the truck
guy sat in his pants. You said my aunt sat in her
pants.”

“
I didn’t say that they sat
in
their
pants.”

“
You did.”

“
No!”

“
Yes!”

“
No. Listen. You’re being
even dumber than
Leon
could be.”

“
Me! You . . .”

“
Listen!
Listen!”

Philip quieted and glowered at his
friend.

“
The man who drove the
truck for Mr. Sorino was wearing satin . . .” Emery picked up the
red slacks. “. . .
black
satin pants. Like the ones your aunt lost. Get
it?”

“
Are you trying to tell me
the truck driver wore pants that looked like my aunt’s
pants?”

“
Ah, finally you get it!
Yes, he must have
stolen
them from behind your house. He had black satin
pants on. How many pairs of black satin pants you think there are
in the neighborhood?”

“
Why would he want to wear
such stupid looking pants? I don’t think they’re even
for
men.”

“
They must be. Your aunt
gave them to your father. And who cares why he wore them? He had
them on. I saw. And I saw your underwear, too.”

“
He was wearing my Aunt
Louise’s underwear?” Philip cried, flabbergasted.

“
No, no, no.”

“
So what do you mean you
saw my underwear?” Philip spun around and tried to look behind him
to see where his pants were torn.

“
Stand still. Not the
underwear you’re wearing. Your other underwear.”

“
What other
underwear?”

“
The ones your aunt gave
you, the ones with the red-haired girl on the butt.”

“
You said he
wasn’t
wearing
them.”

“
Of course he wasn’t
wearing them! How could I see his underwear if he was wearing
pants? But I saw them.”

“
Where’d you see
them?”

“
In the trash can at Mr.
Sorino’s. They were still in the plastic.”

“
What were you doing at Mr.
Sorino’s?”

“
I went over to tell him
about the stolen television. I was going to ask him about giving
the people back their old TV, but I never got a chance. I saw the
truck guy in the backyard wearing your aunt’s pants.”

“
Let’s go
downstairs.”

Philip threw himself on the floor and
leaned back against the sofa. Emery sat in a chair facing
him.

“
So, do you get it now?”
asked Emery.

“
Yes, yes, yes. I get it.
You explained it
so
clearly.”

They sat quietly for a
moment.

“
What’ll we do?” asked
Emery.

“
You know, when we went to
Mr. Sorino’s after Leon gave my stuff to him, we saw the white
trash bag filled with my stuff in his garbage can. Remember? I
think he just put everything back in the bag after I looked it over
and threw it out.”

“
Why would he do that? I
thought he fixed broken stuff.”

“
Maybe everything was too
broken to fix.” Philip got to his feet. “Or maybe that’s why Pete
said Mr. Sorino didn’t really give him very much stuff. Maybe Mr.
Sorino throws
everything
away except the very good stuff that doesn’t need
any fixing.”

“
That’s not what he told us
he did.”

“
I know.”

Philip fell back onto the
sofa.

Finally, Emery said, “What shall we do
about the satin pants?”

“
I don’t know. Let’s go sit
in Mrs. Logan’s bushes and think this over.”

Mrs. Logan lived on the corner of
Philip and Emery’s block. Thick bushes grew near the back of her
house, and the two boys had discovered a wide, empty space beneath
them, which they used as a hideout. Mrs. Logan was quite old and
rarely left her house, so no one bothered the boys when they tucked
themselves into the cool shade of the bushes.

“
Oh,” Emery moaned as he
and Philip walked toward the corner. “Here comes Leon.”

Leon noticed them, and a big smile came
over his face. He waved and ran toward them. “Guess what,
guys.”

“
Your mother’s sending you
to camp tomorrow?” Emery guessed.

Leon gave his
yuk yuk
laugh. “Nope.”
He had changed direction so he could walk with the boys. They had
reached the corner and stopped. Leon looked around.

“
We goin’ into the bushy
clubhouse?”

“
Don’t call it a bushy
clubhouse, Leon,” said Philip. “It sounds stupid.”

Philip and Emery checked for Mrs. Logan
or for anyone else who might be looking. With the coast clear, they
scurried along the side of the house and crawled under the
bushes.

“
I like it in here,” said
Leon, stretching out and relaxing.

“
We came here to think,
Leon,” said Emery. “So
shhhh
!”

Leon pressed his lips together and
waggled them. “Know what I’m thinking about?” he asked from between
his tight lips.

“
What?” Emery asked
impatiently.

Leon popped into a sitting position,
excitement on his face, and spoke in his regular voice. “I’m
thinking about my whole new set of art pencils and crayons and
stuff. A surprise from my mother ’cause I saved her plate. You know
I draw good, right?”

The boys knew. Leon had once saved the
day when Philip and Emery promised to contribute a booth at Mrs.
Moriarty’s women’s club fair and ended up depending on Leon’s
talent to see them through.

“
Good for you, Leon,” said
Philip. “Oh, listen! Is that your mother calling you?”

“
Yeah,” Emery agreed.
“Maybe she’s got another present for you.”

“
Yuk yuk.
I don’t think so. A new TV and the art set’s a
lot.”

“
You got a new TV?” asked
Emery.

“
Yep, a big one. Not just
for me. For everybody. But I like my new art set. I knew I was
getting it before I even got it.”

Emery frowned. “Your mother told you?
You said it was a surprise.”

“
It was a surprise, but I
knew anyway.
Yuk yuk.”

“
Stop laughing,” said
Philip. “You sound goofy.”

“
If it was a surprise,”
Emery went on, “how’d you know you were getting it?”

“
When I went home, I saw my
old art kit in the trash. It was all used up. All the pencils were
sharpened down little and the crayons were all nubby.”

Philip rolled his eyes and mumbled,
“Nubby.”

“
I figured my mother
wouldn’t throw away my old set unless she bought me a new set.
That’s how I knew. Pretty smart, eh?
Yuk
yuk.”

Philip glared at Leon.

“
Oh, sorry.”

Philip turned to Emery and tried to
ignore Leon. “So, who should we tell about the pants?”

“
I don’t know.” Emery
tipped his head toward Leon. “It’s hard to think.”

Leon kept going. “We’re all going to
Hershey Park tomorrow. Overnight, even. They have rides and water
slides and chocolate there, you know.”

“
Another reward for saving
the plate?” asked Emery. “You oughta hide all your mother’s
important stuff and then find it again. She’d buy you the whole
store and take you everywhere.”

“
Yuk . . .
oh, sorry.” Leon glanced at Philip. “No, we were
already going before. She’ll be in a better mood now, though. Hey,
you guys still finding things for Mr. Sorino? Tell him I’ll be away
for two days, but I’ll help him when I come back.”

“
Yeah, we’ll do that,” said
Emery.

Philip sat lost in thought. He looked
over at Leon. He thought some more. He looked at Emery, who noticed
his glance.

“
What?” asked Emery.
“What?”

Philip scrambled to his knees. “Come
with me, Emery. I got an idea.”

“
About the
pants?”

“
Yeah.”

“
What pants?” asked
Leon.

The boys crawled through the bushes
into the sunlight.

“
The dog pants,” Emery
called over this shoulder to Leon.

“
The dog pants?” Leon said,
befuddled.

“
Sure,” explained Emery.
“The dog pants when he gets tired. His tongue hangs out, and he
pants.”

“
Oh, yeah,” said Leon,
nodding agreement. “I knew that. You looking for a dog?”

“
Leon, we gotta go,” said
Philip. “You better go home and pack for Hershey Park.”

“
Yeah, yeah. Good idea.
I’ll see you guys when I get back.”

Leon turned and went skipping down the
street singing, “I’m going to Her-shey Par-ark. I’m going to
Her-shey Par-ark.”

“
What a doof,” muttered
Emery. He turned to Philip. “You do that just to get rid of
him?”

“
Come on back under the
bushes. I’ll tell you.”

Philip and Emery stood across from Mr.
Sorino’s house. They saw Gordon dozing on the front porch. The
truck sat parked in the driveway.

Emery turned to Philip. “You sure we
should do this?”

“
You
think up something if you don’t like my idea.”

“
I can’t think of anything,
but how are we going to get anybody to believe us?”

Philip had told Emery his idea as they
sat in Mrs. Logan’s bushes. Then, on their way to Mr. Sorino’s
house, they detoured so they could pass Leon’s house.

“
We’ll tell somebody,” said
Philip. “A policeman. It’s gotta be a policeman.”

“
They might not believe two
kids. Anyway, Leon’s TV isn’t out in the trash.”

“
It’s outside the house,
isn’t it? We just saw it. They’re not going to put it out on the
sidewalk so many days before the trashmen come, are
they?”