The Zippy Fix (4 page)

“Somebody punched her out?”

“No, seriously, Julio. Cats make her sneeze.”

Julio yawned. “This is so exciting I can’t stand it, Calvin.”

I bit my thumbnail. “Come out. I have an idea.”

Julio let the screen door slap behind him as we headed down the street. Zippy looked up, blinking in the sun.

Julio snorted. “You should be called Sleepy, not Zippy.”

I squatted. “How’s it going, Fats?”

Zippy closed his eyes and stretched out his neck when I scratched under his chin.

I glanced over my shoulder. No one watching from Maya’s front window. Nobody on the street.

Julio turned, too. “What you looking at?”

“I need to borrow Zippy.”

“For what?”

“Sneezes.” I slipped my hands under Zippy’s belly and lifted. “Man, are you sure you didn’t swallow a bowling ball?”

Zippy purred.

I whispered in his ear. “Got a job for you.”

Julio shook his head and followed me to my house.

Mom, Darci, and Stella had gone shopping on the other side of the island. Mom was on a mission to
find just the right necklace
for Stella to wear with her new watermelon dress. I guess Mom didn’t have one she could borrow in her jewelry box.

“What are we doing? Julio asked.

“Making Stella sneeze.”

“Why?”

“Because she calls me names.” He didn’t need to know
what
names, and I sure wasn’t going to tell him. Anyway, I was going to fix this name-calling stuff right now, and Zippy was my fixer.

“You mean like Stump?”

“Shuddup, Julio!”

Julio cracked up.

I carried Zippy to Stella’s bedroom door. It was closed. There was a sign on it:
THINK

TWICE.

I inched the door open.

7

“S
tella?”

Julio jumped back. “She’s home?”

“No, but with her you can’t be too careful.”

The bed was made. There were no piles of clothes on the floor. Books stood perfectly straight on either side of her radio/CD player.

On the wall above her bed was a new
poster. Some guy with messy hair and a trumpet. Stella had drawn small hearts around his head with a red marker. The guy’s name was in big letters: Chris Botti.

Julio pointed at a picture on her desk. “Who’s this?”

From a silver frame, Stella’s mom glowed like a movie star in an autographed black-and-white photo.
To Stella. Love, Twyla
.

Julio picked it up. “Twyla?”

“Her mom.”

“Why’d she sign it
Twyla?
Why not
Mom?”

I shrugged and set Zippy on the floor. “Her mom used to be an actress or something.”

Julio snorted. “She looks like somebody in a magazine, not a mom.”

“Maybe that’s why she signed it
Twyla.”

Zippy sniffed the air and strutted over to the closet. A fat roach scurried out. Zippy shrank back and headed for the bed.

“You don’t like those things, either, huh?”

The roach ran back into the closet. I figured he was relieved Zippy didn’t mistake him
for a snack. I’d have to come back and catch him for Manly Stanley.

Zippy leaped up onto Stella’s bed and settled down on her pillow. “Sure beats the road, doesn’t it, Zipster?”

Zippy blinked.

“That might make her sneeze, all right,” Julio said. “If she’s allergic to cats.”

“She is.”

I felt a tiny pinch of guilt. Being in Stella’s room with a cat was not only wrong, it was
dangerous. If Stella caught me she’d smash me like a spider.

But she’d called me Stump! A million times. Anyway, a couple of sneezes was no big deal.

“Knock yourself out, Zip.”

Me and Julio went into the kitchen for a snack.

When we came back, Zippy was snoring.

A soft, crunchy noise outside made me jump. It sounded like somebody creeping up to the window.

My heart nearly stopped.

Julio crouched and whispered, “What was
that
?”

It could have been anything. Somebody’s dog nosing around the yard, a mongoose, a sudden breeze.

It could have been Stella, too. We had to get out of there.

I hefted Zippy off Stella’s pillow. “Vacation’s over, Fats.”

Outside, I shooed him into the bushes. “Go find a mouse on your way home.”

The guilt I’d felt in Stella’s room was fading fast. And justice had been served.

I clapped Julio on the back. “I feel good.”

“For sure, Calvin. You are one strange bazooks.”

8

J
ulio and I wove through the trees, past our fort, and out onto the golf course. There was nothing going on, no golfers, and no jeep guys, who lived to run kids like us off the fairways.

So we went down to the river and threw rocks at fish.

After that, we searched for golf balls in the
swamp grass, where bad golfers tried to hit over the water.

“Gotta go,” Julio finally said. “All this excitement is wearing me out.”

“Yeah, me too.”

When I got home, Mom and Darci were in the kitchen.

“There you are,” Mom said. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Not much. Robbed a few stores, couple of banks.”

“That’s good. Darci, why don’t you show Calvin what we got him.”

“You got me something?”

“Stella picked it out.”

“Stella? You’re kidding.”

Darci pulled a book out of a bag and handed it to me.

Mom tapped it with her finger. “You need to read more, Cal. I asked Stella to find you something that would hold your interest.”

I studied the book.

Hatchet
.

Cool title. It had a good cover.

“Stella read this in fifth grade and couldn’t put it down. She thought you’d like it, too.”

“She did?”

“Ask her yourself, except right now she’s taking a nap. She has a date tonight.”

“Clarence,” Darci added.

Oh yeah, pink-car guy.

“Just wait till you see her all done up, Cal. She’s gorgeous.”