here.”
“Really? Well, that’s nice.”
“I guess,” I said. “He seems okay. It’s just …”
“Just what?” she asked.
“Just nothing,” I said. I added, “He seems like kind of a know-it-all.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but close enough.
“Maybe he was nervous,” suggested my mom. “It isn’t easy being the new kid. Surely you haven’t forgotten already? It hasn’t been
that
long.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Maybe you should give him more of a chance. It would be nice to have someone to hang out with.”
“Allie will be back soon,” I reminded her.
“I know,” she said.
“If I had a dog, I’d have someone to hang out with.”
“You have O.J.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Speaking of boys, now seemed as good a time as any to go deal with my brother.
“Hey, where’s Sam?” I asked my mom.
“Dad just left to drop him off. He’s sleeping over at Paul’s.”
Oh, great
, I thought. By morning, every six-year-old boy within a five-mile radius—and all their brothers and sisters—would know about O.J. By tomorrow afternoon, I would likely be the laughingstock of the entire city of Burlington, possibly even the entire state of Vermont.
You know that girl Zelly? Zelly Fried? Get this! She has this old plastic jug? And she thinks it’s a dog!
By next week, the news would likely spread all the way to Camp Sonrise, where Allie would deny ever being friends, much less best friends, with me. By the time sixth grade started, there would be exactly one kid willing to be my friend: Jeremy Fagel.
Just then, I realized something.
Fagel
rhymes with
bagel
. Smelly Fried Egg, and her boyfriend, Germ-y Bagel.
Nicky Benoit was going to have a field day.
The next day, when Sam got back from Paul’s house, I was sitting on our front steps. Waiting for the mailman, as usual, but also waiting for him.
“How was the sleepover?” I asked.
“Awesome!” he answered. “We got to watch
Star Wars
. And Paul has these lightsabers, so I was—”
“Cool,” I said. “Listen, you didn’t say anything, did you?”
Sam looked confused. “Say anything? About what?”
“You know. About O.J.”
“What about O.J.?”
I groaned.
“Sam, did you tell Paul about O.J.?”
“No.”
“Promise?” It seemed like he was telling the truth, but I felt the need to make sure.
“Yeah, why?”
Okay. So far, so good. It actually hadn’t occurred to him to say anything. But now that I had given him the idea, I had to make sure he wouldn’t ever say anything.
“Because Grandpa wanted it to be a secret, okay?”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, and if one of us tells anyone, he’s going to be really mad and bad things are going to happen.”
“Like what?”
Hmm, like what?
“Well, you know how if Grandpa gets mad, his blood pressure goes up?”
“Yeah.”
“And he could get really sick and everything if his blood pressure goes too high? Well, if you told and then that happened, you’d be in big, big trouble with Mom and Dad.”
“What if you told?”
“Same thing, brainiac. That’s why neither of us can say anything. So zip-o your lip-o.”
Sam nodded solemnly and made a lip-zipping motion. Of course, since he often forgets to zip up his own pants, I can’t exactly say that filled me with confidence.
With Sam taken care of and a lot of the kids in the neighborhood away, it was actually pretty easy to take care of O.J. without being noticed. I got in the habit of walking him early in the morning to avoid letting people see me dragging himdown the block. If Ace was napping or out of the house, I’d try to sneak a backyard walk. But then my mom set up stakes and chicken wire to turn our yard into a vegetable garden, so that was the end of that.
After a couple of weeks of walking O.J., something small yet monumental happened. I cut the
Dogs, Cats, Pets
column out of the newspaper and taped it to the fridge, like always. But for the first time ever, I came back later and discovered
“Really? Well, that’s nice.”
“I guess,” I said. “He seems okay. It’s just …”
“Just what?” she asked.
“Just nothing,” I said. I added, “He seems like kind of a know-it-all.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but close enough.
“Maybe he was nervous,” suggested my mom. “It isn’t easy being the new kid. Surely you haven’t forgotten already? It hasn’t been
that
long.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Maybe you should give him more of a chance. It would be nice to have someone to hang out with.”
“Allie will be back soon,” I reminded her.
“I know,” she said.
“If I had a dog, I’d have someone to hang out with.”
“You have O.J.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Speaking of boys, now seemed as good a time as any to go deal with my brother.
“Hey, where’s Sam?” I asked my mom.
“Dad just left to drop him off. He’s sleeping over at Paul’s.”
Oh, great
, I thought. By morning, every six-year-old boy within a five-mile radius—and all their brothers and sisters—would know about O.J. By tomorrow afternoon, I would likely be the laughingstock of the entire city of Burlington, possibly even the entire state of Vermont.
You know that girl Zelly? Zelly Fried? Get this! She has this old plastic jug? And she thinks it’s a dog!
By next week, the news would likely spread all the way to Camp Sonrise, where Allie would deny ever being friends, much less best friends, with me. By the time sixth grade started, there would be exactly one kid willing to be my friend: Jeremy Fagel.
Just then, I realized something.
Fagel
rhymes with
bagel
. Smelly Fried Egg, and her boyfriend, Germ-y Bagel.
Nicky Benoit was going to have a field day.
The next day, when Sam got back from Paul’s house, I was sitting on our front steps. Waiting for the mailman, as usual, but also waiting for him.
“How was the sleepover?” I asked.
“Awesome!” he answered. “We got to watch
Star Wars
. And Paul has these lightsabers, so I was—”
“Cool,” I said. “Listen, you didn’t say anything, did you?”
Sam looked confused. “Say anything? About what?”
“You know. About O.J.”
“What about O.J.?”
I groaned.
“Sam, did you tell Paul about O.J.?”
“No.”
“Promise?” It seemed like he was telling the truth, but I felt the need to make sure.
“Yeah, why?”
Okay. So far, so good. It actually hadn’t occurred to him to say anything. But now that I had given him the idea, I had to make sure he wouldn’t ever say anything.
“Because Grandpa wanted it to be a secret, okay?”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, and if one of us tells anyone, he’s going to be really mad and bad things are going to happen.”
“Like what?”
Hmm, like what?
“Well, you know how if Grandpa gets mad, his blood pressure goes up?”
“Yeah.”
“And he could get really sick and everything if his blood pressure goes too high? Well, if you told and then that happened, you’d be in big, big trouble with Mom and Dad.”
“What if you told?”
“Same thing, brainiac. That’s why neither of us can say anything. So zip-o your lip-o.”
Sam nodded solemnly and made a lip-zipping motion. Of course, since he often forgets to zip up his own pants, I can’t exactly say that filled me with confidence.
With Sam taken care of and a lot of the kids in the neighborhood away, it was actually pretty easy to take care of O.J. without being noticed. I got in the habit of walking him early in the morning to avoid letting people see me dragging himdown the block. If Ace was napping or out of the house, I’d try to sneak a backyard walk. But then my mom set up stakes and chicken wire to turn our yard into a vegetable garden, so that was the end of that.
After a couple of weeks of walking O.J., something small yet monumental happened. I cut the
Dogs, Cats, Pets
column out of the newspaper and taped it to the fridge, like always. But for the first time ever, I came back later and discovered
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