around or hanging on a tree—sugar apple, banana, mango, pineapple, alligator pear, guava, cooked potatoes, and even raw onions. They take a big bowl, cut it all up, and season it with Old Sour, which is made from key lime juice, salt, and hot peppers. Then they pass it around with a fork and everyone takes a bite. It’s the strangest fruit salad I’ve ever had, but it’s tasty.
“Listen, fellas,” Ira says, spearing a piece of potato. “I been thinking.”
“About how to get us a new wagon?” Beans asks.
Ira shakes his head. “I met this kid named Lester in Miami and he told me about tick-tocking.”
“What’s that?” Pork Chop asks.
“All you need is a rock and string,” Ira says,lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It goes like this.”
Ira explains that you take a rock and tie it to a long length of string—long enough to reach across a roof. Then stake out a house and wait until everyone’s asleep. You throw the rock over the house so that it lands on the opposite side near a window. When you tug on the string, it scrapes the window and makes a scary sound, as if a bony hand is trying to get into the house. The folks inside are scared so bad, they scream their heads off, and you take off running.
“And the best part?” Ira finishes. “No one knows who did it! What do you think, fellas?”
“I like it!” Pork Chop says. “Who should we tick-tock first?”
An evil glint appears in Beans’s eyes.
“Miss Sugarapple,” he says.
It’s late, and I’m lying in bed, listening to mosquitoes buzz. The night air is thick with the sweet scent of frangipani. Smokey’s curled into my side, her paws twitching in her sleep, like she’s dreaming of chasing mice. Archie told me once that what he really sells is dreams.
“Nobody
needs
fancy face cream. A lady buys itbecause she wants to feel young or find a husband or feel prettier than her neighbor,” he told me. “All I do is sell her that dream, bottled up nice and tidy in a cream, or maybe a new hat, or some brushes.”
“But what if she doesn’t have a dream?” I asked him.
“Princess,” he said, laughing, “everybody’s got a dream.”
I’ve almost fallen asleep when a scream shatters the quiet, and I know that the Diaper Gang has struck.
The Conch Telegraph kicks in the next morning.
When I go outside, the Diaper Gang boys are sitting on the porch, talking excitedly.
“That was hilarious, pal!” Pork Chop chortles. “She screamed so loud, they heard her in Cuba!”
Jelly comes walking down the lane. “You kids hear about the ghost at Miss Sugarapple’s place?”
Beans feigns ignorance. “What’s that, Jelly?”
“Miss Sugarapple says a ghost was trying to get into her house.”
“A ghost?” Beans asks.
“Scared her nearly to death, she said.”
“Gee whiz,” Beans says. “I sure do hope Miss Sugarapple’s okay. She’s our favorite teacher.”
Jelly walks into his tiny house and Beans grins.
“This is the bee’s knees, fellas!” he says.
Pork Chop starts laughing and says in a low, menacing voice, “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Diaper Gang knows!”
Pudding starts crying, and I sniff.
“I don’t know about the hearts of men, but I’d bet there’s something evil lurking in that diaper,” I say.
Over the next few days, the Diaper Gang tick-tocks the houses of various folks who they think have wronged them, including a preacher, a store clerk who never gave out free gumballs, some man who yelled at them for picking his Spanish limes, and a girl named Lucy who sat in front of Beans in school and wouldn’t let him cheat off her test.
But I guess spending all night scaring folks is starting to take its toll, because when I go down to breakfast on the third day, Beans and Kermit are practically asleep at the table.
“Late night,
Shadow?”
I ask, and Beans glares at me.
There’s a knock on the door and Ira comes tromping in. He’s got dark circles under
“Listen, fellas,” Ira says, spearing a piece of potato. “I been thinking.”
“About how to get us a new wagon?” Beans asks.
Ira shakes his head. “I met this kid named Lester in Miami and he told me about tick-tocking.”
“What’s that?” Pork Chop asks.
“All you need is a rock and string,” Ira says,lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It goes like this.”
Ira explains that you take a rock and tie it to a long length of string—long enough to reach across a roof. Then stake out a house and wait until everyone’s asleep. You throw the rock over the house so that it lands on the opposite side near a window. When you tug on the string, it scrapes the window and makes a scary sound, as if a bony hand is trying to get into the house. The folks inside are scared so bad, they scream their heads off, and you take off running.
“And the best part?” Ira finishes. “No one knows who did it! What do you think, fellas?”
“I like it!” Pork Chop says. “Who should we tick-tock first?”
An evil glint appears in Beans’s eyes.
“Miss Sugarapple,” he says.
It’s late, and I’m lying in bed, listening to mosquitoes buzz. The night air is thick with the sweet scent of frangipani. Smokey’s curled into my side, her paws twitching in her sleep, like she’s dreaming of chasing mice. Archie told me once that what he really sells is dreams.
“Nobody
needs
fancy face cream. A lady buys itbecause she wants to feel young or find a husband or feel prettier than her neighbor,” he told me. “All I do is sell her that dream, bottled up nice and tidy in a cream, or maybe a new hat, or some brushes.”
“But what if she doesn’t have a dream?” I asked him.
“Princess,” he said, laughing, “everybody’s got a dream.”
I’ve almost fallen asleep when a scream shatters the quiet, and I know that the Diaper Gang has struck.
The Conch Telegraph kicks in the next morning.
When I go outside, the Diaper Gang boys are sitting on the porch, talking excitedly.
“That was hilarious, pal!” Pork Chop chortles. “She screamed so loud, they heard her in Cuba!”
Jelly comes walking down the lane. “You kids hear about the ghost at Miss Sugarapple’s place?”
Beans feigns ignorance. “What’s that, Jelly?”
“Miss Sugarapple says a ghost was trying to get into her house.”
“A ghost?” Beans asks.
“Scared her nearly to death, she said.”
“Gee whiz,” Beans says. “I sure do hope Miss Sugarapple’s okay. She’s our favorite teacher.”
Jelly walks into his tiny house and Beans grins.
“This is the bee’s knees, fellas!” he says.
Pork Chop starts laughing and says in a low, menacing voice, “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Diaper Gang knows!”
Pudding starts crying, and I sniff.
“I don’t know about the hearts of men, but I’d bet there’s something evil lurking in that diaper,” I say.
Over the next few days, the Diaper Gang tick-tocks the houses of various folks who they think have wronged them, including a preacher, a store clerk who never gave out free gumballs, some man who yelled at them for picking his Spanish limes, and a girl named Lucy who sat in front of Beans in school and wouldn’t let him cheat off her test.
But I guess spending all night scaring folks is starting to take its toll, because when I go down to breakfast on the third day, Beans and Kermit are practically asleep at the table.
“Late night,
Shadow?”
I ask, and Beans glares at me.
There’s a knock on the door and Ira comes tromping in. He’s got dark circles under
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