The Day of the Iguana by Henry Winkler Page A

“I’m way ahead of you, Dad.” I went to my desk drawer and pulled it open. Nothing had changed overnight. The chips and circuit boards and wires were lying there exactly as I had left them the night before. How come in fairy tales, magic elves arrive in the night and put everything back the way it was? I ask you, where are those elves when a guy needs them?
    I imagined the punishment that would come down on me if my dad saw that mess. My dad always says the punishment should fit the crime, and I had a horrible feeling my punishment for taking away his television would be that he’d take away mine, whenever it was finally working again.
    â€œNo TV for a month,” he’d say. Or maybe even, “No TV for a year.” My head spun! I had to get that cable box fixed before he found out about it.
    I was safe for a while, because no one in my family turns on the TV until the nighttime. But at six thirty every night, my Dad watches the nightly news, followed by Hollywood Squares. I’m not too good at math, but I figured I had something like twelve hours to get our cable up and running.
    But how?
    I didn’t need magic elves. I needed Frankie Townsend. If anyone could put that box back together, it was Frankie. He is a boy genius with electronic stuff. I happen to know firsthand that he’s had a subscription to Popular Electronics since he was eight years old. And he reads it, too. Cover to cover.
    I thought about my situation at breakfast. I had to find a way to apologize to Frankie that he’d accept. I needed him to help me fix the cable box by the time my father plopped in his chair and flicked on the nightly news.
    After breakfast, I raced into my room to get my backpack, but before I left, I took out a piece of paper.
    â€œKEEP OUT!” I wrote. “SIENSE PROJECT IN PROGES.”
    I don’t think I spelled too many of the words right, but it got the message across, just in case my dad or anyone else felt like snooping.
    I taped the sign on my door, and closed it tight. I considered pointing out the sign to my dad, but I really didn’t need to. My dad is a major-league sign reader. All you have to do is walk down Amsterdam Avenue with him and he will read every sign he sees— out loud.
    â€œHarvey’s Pizza—a dollar a slice. Kim’s Korean Market, fresh roses today. Big Apple Laundromat, Free Dry with Wash. Manhattan Bagels, two free when you buy a dozen.” His sign reading habit was great when I was a little guy and couldn’t read. But now that I’m older, it’s pretty annoying. And now Emily’s starting to do it, too. Maybe there’s a gene for annoying oral sign reading. I hope I don’t pass it on to my kids.
    â€œI’ll meet you downstairs, Dad,” I called. He was walking us to school, but I wanted to get down there early and see if I could talk to Frankie before we set out.
    When I got to the lobby, only Ashley and Robert were there.
    â€œWhere’s Frankie?” I asked. “We’ve got to talk. I’m going to buzz his apartment.”
    â€œHank,” Ashley said, stopping me from going back inside. “Frankie already left. He didn’t want to walk with us.”
    â€œHe’s still that mad?” I gulped.
    â€œI don’t know,” Ashley answered. “He just took off with his dad.”
    â€œListen, Ashley, we’ve got to figure out how to get Frankie to talk to me again.”
    â€œGive him a day or two, he’ll get over it,” she said.
    â€œI don’t have that much time,” I said. “I need him now. He’s got to help me fix my cable box-by tonight.”
    â€œI can fix a cable box,” said Robert.
    â€œCan you really?” I asked him.
    â€œSure,” he said. “Call the cable company and ask for a new one.” Then he laughed.
    Great, now Robert was developing a sense of humor. Just when I needed him to be the nerd he’s