Double Fudge (5 page)

"Look at this, Pete," he said one night.

It was a rope bridge, forty feet long. It cost thousands of dollars. "That'd be useful," I told him.

"I know," he said. "Uncle Feather would really like it."

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Lucky for us Fudge doesn't know how to go online.

The first time Fudge went to Richie Potter's for a play date, he came home full of ideas. "We need a bigger apartment."

"A bigger apartment would be nice," Mom said, "but we're very lucky we have what we do."

"But Mom ... I need two rooms. One for me and one for my toys," Fudge said. "If you and Dad slept in the living room, I could sleep in your room and keep my toys in
my
room."

"Keep dreaming, Fudge!" I said.

"I'm not dreaming, Pete. I'm wide awake."

Later he came to my room. I was instant messaging with Jimmy Fargo when I was supposed to be making a journal entry for humanities. I'd be in big trouble if Mom or Dad knew. The computer goes back in the living room if I don't keep up my grades.

"The problem with our family is," Fudge said, "we don't have enough money. We need to get more. And fast."

"Cheer up," I said, "maybe we'll win the lottery."

His eyes lit up. "The lottery! That's it."

But when he told Dad his brilliant idea, Dad said, "Buying lottery tickets is just a way to waste money."

"No," Fudge argued. "It's a way to get rich fast!"

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"Fudge," Mom said, "we're happy the way we are. We're grateful for all the good things we have. Like each other and our health and ..."

"That's
you,"
Fudge said. "Not
me!"

"This is getting out of hand," Mom said to Dad.

"I'm inclined to agree," Dad said.

By the third week of school Fudge had homework. I don't remember ever having homework in kindergarten, or even in first grade. He was working on the floor, in front of the TV, while Mom and Dad watched the evening news. "Let me see that," I said, grabbing his paper.

FILL IN THE BLANKS

I really like---

----is good,

----is fun.

I dream about----

I like to read about----

I like to draw----

A good name for me is----

"How's he supposed to fill in the blanks when he can't even write?" I asked my parents. "I can write," Fudge said. "Yeah... three words."

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"I don't need more than that," he told me, grabbing back his paper.

He whipped right through it, saying, "This is so easy." Then he proudly handed his paper back to me.

FILL IN THE BLANKS

I really like
money

money
is fun.

I dream about
money

I like to read about
money

I like to draw
money

A good name for me is
mr. money

Two days later Fudge was sent to the school counselor to be evaluated.

"It was so fun," he told us that night. "We played games and drew pictures. Guess what I drew?" He didn't wait for us to guess. "Money... money... money. And I made dollar signs with wings. Lots and lots of them."

"Mun-eeee ..." Tootsie sang.

Mom and Dad got a call from the school counselor, who asked to meet with them. They went on Wednesday afternoon. Grandma baby-sat for Tootsie. When they got back Mom was really upset. "Do you know what the counselor asked us?" Mom said to Grandma.

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"She asked if we're having a problem at home. If we've lost our jobs or need financial help. It was so embarrassing."

Grandma made Mom a cup of tea. "You can't take it personally, Anne," Grandma said. "She's just doing her job."

"That's not all," Mom continued. "She suggested that instead of
buying
things for our children we could stress all the good things in life that are free. As if we don't." Mom choked up. "I just don't know what to do about this."

"It'll pass, honey," Grandma said.

"What if it doesn't?" Mom asked.

"Let's not worry about that before we have to," Grandma said.

That night, when Mom came to my room to say good night, she sat on the edge of my bed. "Peter, I've been wondering... have Dad and I taught you that the best things in life are free... like good health and love and friendship? That's what we stress in our family, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Mom... sure."

"And you understand that no matter how much money you have you aren't necessarily happy? You know that, don't you, Peter?"

"Sure, Mom. I know that. It's like no matter how

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much money Jimmy might have he can't make his parents get back together. He can't even make them like each other."

Mom got teary eyed.

"But just so you know, Mom ... I don't think about that stuff every day."

"Don't think about what?"

"It's not like I get up in the morning and say to myself,
Wow... the best things in life are free!"

"What do you think about?"

"First thing in the morning, you mean?"

Mom nodded.

"I don't know. Usually I wish I could sleep later. Or I wonder if I studied enough for the Spanish test. Or I think about the Mets or the Knicks or the Rangers, depending on the season."

"But you don't get up in the morning and think about money, do you?"

"No, Mom. I mean, maybe if we were seriously deprived and we didn't have enough to eat... but then I guess I'd wake up thinking about food, not money."

"Just so long as money isn't number one in your thoughts," Mom said. "Or even number twenty."

"Probably if I made a list, it wouldn't be," I told her.

"Thank you, Peter. That makes me feel much better."

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"What green stuff?" Fudge asked. They thought he was safely tucked away in bed but I'd seen him crawl under the kitchen table, where he was listening to every word.

"Fudge, what are you doing under the table?" Mom asked on her way back from putting Tootsie to sleep. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"I can't go to bed until I know about the
green stuff."

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"What
green stuff?"
Mom asked.

"I don't know," Fudge said. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

"The
green stuff
is money," Grandma explained.

"Oh, money," Fudge said. "I
love
money!"

"We know," I told him.

"Are you going to cook some money?" he asked Grandma, laughing.

Grandma laughed with him and shook her head. "You don't
cook
it. The government
prints
it."

"I can print," Fudge said. "I can print the whole alphabet."

"We
know,"
I said.

"Fudge," Mom said, "come out from under the table right now. Otherwise we won't have time for a story."

"I want Grandma to read tonight."

"I'd be honored," she told him.

"Will you read me a story about the
green stuff?"

"I'm not sure you have any books about the
green stuff,"
Grandma said. "But maybe I can make up a story about a little boy who liked money so much ..."

"So much... what?" Fudge asked. "So much he ate it?"

"You'll find out when you're in bed and I tell you the
whole
story," Grandma said. From the way she pressed her lips together, I could tell she was

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wondering how she was going to get out of this one.

The next morning Grandma reported that Fudge had been engrossed by her story about a boy who went to Washington to learn how money was made. Mom and Dad took that as an omen.

"A trip certainly couldn't hurt," Mom said. "Remember when you took me on that tour?" she asked Grandma.

"Yes, I do," Grandma said.

"It might even help Fudge understand," Dad agreed. "Good idea, Muriel!"

Grandma beamed.

"We haven't been to Washington in ages," Mom said.

"I've
never
been there," I told them. "Jimmy Fargo says the Air and Space Museum is so cool. Can we check it out?"

"Sounds good to me," Dad said.

Grandma volunteered to stay at our apartment with Tootsie, Turtle, and Uncle Feather.

And a week later, when school was closed for two days because of teachers' meetings, we headed for Washington, D.C.

We started out early and ate breakfast on the train. Fudge was really impressed by the snack car. As soon as we carried our food to our seats, he was ready to

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go back for more. Mom and Dad were sitting in the row in front of us, so I was the one he kept annoying. "Come on, Pete... let's go back to the snack car."

"I'm still eating," I told him, slurping up the last of my juice.

He was quiet for about two minutes. Then he asked, "Are we almost there, Pete?"

"No, we're not almost there. We're not even close. It takes three hours to get to Washington, so why don't you look at your books, or draw a picture or something."

I got out my Electroman Advanced Plus. But just as I started a game Fudge covered the screen with his hand. "Will you take me back to the snack car now?"

"If I do, will you leave me alone?"

"Sure, Pete."

I asked Dad for money. He reminded me not to get Fudge any candy, as if I needed reminding. He was already flying high. "A banana would be good," Dad said. "And juice, not soda."

The snack car was three cars forward. Fudge had already learned to open the doors between the cars by kicking the
open door
plate at the bottom of each door. He liked the whoosh of air as he raced from car to car. "This is so fun, Pete! I wish I could ride the train every day."

"We ride the subway," I reminded him.

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"But there's no snack car on the subway and the seats aren't soft and when you look out the window it's all dark."

"That's because the subway is an underground train."

"Wow, Pete ... I never knew that!"

"Well, now you know."

"William says,
learn something new every day."

I snorted.

"William is smart, Pete. He's the smartest teacher in the world."