The Life of Ty: Penguin Problems (6 page)

W
innie comes back with peanut butter
and
our older sister, Sandra.

“Here's the thing,” Sandra says, after a lot of finger-drumming on her jeans.

“Yes?” Winnie says.

I look up at the two of them and wait.

The tub is full of water.

I'm sitting cross-legged on the bathroom floor, and Pingy is in my lap. Each time he says “
piu
,” I give him a lick of peanut butter. Each time he finishes, he says “
piu
” again. He's saying “
piu
” a lot. I think he misses his mom. I feel REALLY bad.

But I'm glad Sandra and Winnie are here. Together, we'll figure something out.

Sandra collects air in her cheeks, then blows it out. “Okay. Mom is stressed. The last thing she needs is to find out she's harboring a stolen penguin.”

She zeroes in on me. “Ty, you've learned your lesson, right? That you shouldn't steal a baby penguin ever ever again?”

“He has,” Winnie says.

“I have,” I say. “I have totally learned that lesson. I
promise
.”

“Hmmph,” Sandra says.

“I think you're suggesting that there's no reason to bring Mom into it—or Dad—and personally, I agree,” Winnie says.

“I do, too!” I say.

Sandra puts her hands on her hips. “Yeah, but how are we going to get Pingy back to the aquarium without bringing Mom into it?”

“We just will,” Winnie says. “You can drive us there. We'll say we're going on an errand. And then . . . um . . . you'll use your feminine wiles to hand Pingy over to someone who works there.”

“Why do I have to use
my
feminine wiles?” Sandra says. “Why can't you use yours?”

“I will. That's why I'm coming, too,” Winnie says.

I don't know what feminine wiles are, but I do know that my big sisters can pretty much do anything they set their minds to.

“Do I have boy wiles?” I ask. “Should I use them when we get to the aquarium?”

“No, because you're staying here,” Sandra says.

“But—”

“You have to take your bath,” Winnie says. “Plus, you're already in enough trouble. No way will Mom let us take you out of the house.”

I pout, but not for long. I cuddle Pingy close and say, “You're going home! Hurray!”

“
Piu-piu!
” he says in lonely
piu-piu
language.

“Ack.” Sandra groans. “Does he have to keep making that sound? How can we sneak him out of here when he's being so loud? He only shuts up when he's got peanut butter in his mouth, and we can't keep giving him peanut butter all the way out to the car.”

“It would look weird if I keep dipping my hand into my messenger bag or whatever,” Winnie says. “Mom would ask questions.”

“We could put the container of peanut butter in there with him,” Sandra says. “Except, no, because he'd flop around trying to get to it, and flap his wings and stuff, and . . .
no
.”

“Oh, Pingy,” Winnie says. “Can't you just stay quiet?”

“
Piu,
” Pingy says, and with his dark eyes he looks at me.

Not Sandra.

Not Winnie.

Me.

A lump rises in my throat. I have to fix this. I
have
to come up with an idea. I scrunch my forehead and push hard with my brain muscles—and I do!

“I know what to do!” I say, doing my standing-up-without-my-hands trick and passing Pingy to Winnie. “Here, hold Pingy. I'll be right back.”

I dart to my bedroom. I feel around on my sheets. Yes!

I dash back to the bathroom and wave ol' greenie proudly.

“Your old pacifier?” Sandra says.

“Yep.” I dip it into the peanut butter and pull up a big blob. “This'll last for a
long
time. And if he's got peanut butter in his mouth, he'll be quiet in Winnie's backpack. See?”

Winnie and Sandra look at each other.

“Watch,” I say. I stick greenie into Pingy's beak, and right away he goes
suck-suck-suck
. He stops fidgeting in Winnie's arms, too.

“Brilliant!” Winnie says. She kisses me. “Ty? You are brilliant.”

I grin.

Sandra pushes herself off the sink. “Right. We better go, then.”

I pet Pingy's head. “Bye, Pingy. You're a good Pingy.”

He keeps sucking greenie. He looks so cute, sucking a real live pacifier.

“You can visit him next time you go to the aquarium,” Winnie says. She tucks Pingy under the bottom of her shirt so that she can sneak him to her room, where her messenger bag is. Mom's downstairs, but just in case.

“Don't forget me, 'kay?” I tell Pingy.

“Take your bath, squirt,” Sandra says. “We'll keep Pingy safe.”

They leave, and for a long time I stare at the ceiling, thinking of things that could go wrong. But for every wrong thing, there's a way they could make it right.

Like, if the aquarium is closed, they'll find a security guard.

If the security guard gets suspicious, Sandra will make up a good story. Or Winnie will, because she's awesome at stories, and Sandra will look wise and responsible like someone who'll be going to college next year.

And if Pingy doesn't want to go back to his aquarium pen . . .

Well, he will, because that's where he lives. And his exhibit won't be under construction for
ev
er. When Mom isn't so mad, I'll see if she'll take me to the aquarium just for fun, and Teensy Baby Maggie can come, too. I won't mention Pingy. I'll just say how much Maggie will love it there.

• • •

I'm pretending I'm a jellyfish when Mom knocks on the door. “Ty?” she says. “Can I come in?”

“Um . . . I guess,” I say.

I sit up and squeeze my legs together for privacy reasons. Water sloshes over the edge of the tub.

She steps into the bathroom with Teensy Baby Maggie in one arm and Teensy Baby Maggie's bouncy seat in the other. She puts the bouncy seat on the floor and puts Maggie in it. She closes the lid on the toilet and sits down.

“Sweetie, I'm worried I haven't been paying enough attention to you,” Mom says.

I raise my eyebrows. I thought I was going to get yelled at some more.

“It's just that new babies take a lot of work,” she goes on.

“So I've heard . . . and heard . . . and
heard,
” I say.

She lets out a small laugh, but her eyes are sad. “Is that why you ran away at the aquarium?”

“I didn't run away! I just wandered away. Accidentally.”

“I don't want you
wandering
off from your teacher ever again,” she says. “When Mrs. Webber told me what happened, I couldn't believe it. That kind of behavior . . . it's just not like you.”

“Because it wasn't me. It was a fake me.”

“A fake you?”

A
mad
me, that was the real reason. Mad and sad and other things, too. Like everything was wrong inside of me.

Mom's waiting.

“I won't run away from Mrs. Webber again,” I promise. “
Or
wander.”

Mom looks at me. I look at her.

“Hmm,” she finally says. “Well, do you think you need to be punished some more, or do you think you've been punished enough?”

Parents ask dumb questions sometimes.

“I think I've been punished enough,” I say. “But, Mom?”

“Yes?”

“You
do
pay too much attention to Teensy Baby Maggie. Not always! And I know, I know, she's a baby.”

Maggie burps.

“But maybe you could do things with just me sometimes?”

“I like that idea,” Mom says. “Special time, just for us.”

“Yeah! Special time just for us. But other times, we can do stuff with Maggie and Dad and Sandra and Winnie, too.” Like the aquarium, but I'll mention that another day.

“It's a plan,” Mom says. Her tone says the “talk” part of our talk is over. “And now I have a favor to ask you. I'd ask one of your sisters, but they've gone off on some crazy errand. I didn't quite catch what it was.”

“Huh,” I say. “Well, they're crazy all right.”

“Anyway, I need to get dinner on the table. Can you babysit your sister while I finish up in the kitchen?”

Me?
I think.
Babysit Maggie?

“I think she'd really enjoy some time with her big brother.”

“Oh,” I say. “Um, okay.”

She smiles her special Ty smile, which means
Love you, bug
.

Then she leaves. It's just me and Maggie.

I do like her pretty blue eyes.

“Want me to make dolphin sounds?” I ask her. “Or would you rather feel my loose tooth?”

She does her
pluh
sound.

“Here,” I say, taking her weensie finger and putting it on my front tooth. It only wiggles a little, but Maggie thinks it's neat. I know because she kicks her chubby legs.

“I'm sorry I called you a Big Fat Meanie Baby,” I tell Maggie. I bite my lip. “And now do you want to hear my dolphin impression?”

She kicks her legs
and
waves her arms.

“To do it, I have to go underwater. But I'll be right back up, 'kay?”

I gaze into her eyes so that she'll know she can trust me. Then
I slide underwater and scream. The water muffles it just the right amount, and I know Maggie is impressed, because when I burst back into the air, Maggie is
still
looking at me. And maybe . . . maybe I can do more things to impress her as I get to know her better, and as she gets to know me. Things like catching two dolphins in a claw machine game, only better.

She likes animals, I can tell because she liked my underwater sea creature noise, so—I know! I should get her a pet! Or, I should get me a pet and share it with her! And we could teach it tricks and love it and be nice to it and name it Chepito!

Hmm. I wonder what kind of pet we'll get. I'll have to give that some thought. For now, I go under again, and I learn something awesome. If I hold my lips in a small-sized O instead of scream-sized O, and if I push out a whole series of Baby Maggie's
pluhs,
I sound almost exactly like a baby penguin.