The Day of the Iguana (2 page)

Frankie was chewing on his bottom lip, like he does when he's got a hard decision to make. I knew how much he loved monster movies. But I also knew how much I wanted Magik 3 to get this job. I have to admit, I can be pretty convincing when I want to be.

“But Zip,” he said. “This is the original Mutant Moth movie. The one that started them all.”

“I'm seeing the twins,” I said. “I'm seeing their little smiling faces looking up at us on their special day.
You so good, you so good,
they yell.”

“We could always tape the movie,” Ashley said.

Of course. Where were my brains? I wish I had thought of that solution.

“Our VCR is busted,” Frankie said, “and my dad doesn't want to fix it because he thinks we watch too much TV anyway.”

“Okay then, here's the plan,” I said, lowering my voice to almost a whisper. “We'll bring our own blank tape to my aunt's house. My Uncle Gary has incredible video equipment and an awesome TV room. We'll tape the movie there and right after the party, we'll watch
The Mutant Moth That Ate Toledo
on his big-screen TV. No commercials, no interruptions, no parents hanging around. How great does that sound? Personally, I can't wait.”

Frankie thought about it for a minute. “I need your solemn promise that we will tape the film and watch it right after the magic show, Zip. Nothing can come between me and that movie.”

We put our hands one on top of another. Robert tried to sneak his hand in there, too. We let him. Like I said before, we're not totally coldhearted.

“A promise made is a promise kept,” we all said at once.

“Okay, then I'll go,” said Frankie.

“Zengali!”
I hollered.

“Hank, don't even try,” Frankie said, shaking his head. “The word is
zengawii.”

“Whatever,” I said. “Here's to Magik 3 and our next paying performance!”

THAT NIGHT, WE ALL checked with our parents.

Frankie's mom and dad said if he straightened up his room he could go.

Ashley's mom and dad said okay, too. They're both doctors and they had a conference they were supposed to go to and Ashley was going to stay with her grandmother anyway. I hope their conference was on how to give booster shots that don't hurt, because I think doctors could use a conference about that.

Robert checked with his mom, and unfortunately, she said she'd be thrilled to have him go with us. I don't blame her. If Robert were my son, and somebody said, “I'll take this walking encyclopedia off your hands for a day,” boy, I'd jump at the chance.

Oddly enough, it was
my
parents who were the problem.

“I know you and Aunt Maxine discussed you performing at the party,” my mom said, “but your schoolwork comes first.”

“But Mom, I already told my friends it was a done deal.”

“Let's go look at the chart and see if you can afford the time away this weekend.”

I have a chart in my room that says what all my assignments are and when they're due. I didn't always have this chart. We just put it up a couple of weeks ago, when I found out I have learning challenges.

It's not like I'm stupid. It's just that certain things are really hard for me, like almost everything you learn in school. My dad had always thought I was lazy. The principal of my school, Leland Love, said I wasn't living up to my potential. My teacher, Ms. Adolf, said I wasn't focusing on my responsibilities. She also gave me four Ds on my report card. Wow, that really embarrassed me.

Then this nice woman who works at my school, Dr. Lynn Berger, gave me a bunch of tests that showed I'm not lazy or stupid—I just learn differently. One of the things she suggested is for me to have a chart in my room that reminds me of everything I have to do in school. That way, I don't forget my assignments and I focus better.

We went into my bedroom and looked at the chart. In the square for Monday, I had written the words SCIENCE PROJECT in red letters. Our actual science projects weren't due for three weeks, but by Monday, we had to pick our topic and say why we picked it. I didn't have a clue what I was going to do.

“Why don't you ask Emily for ideas?” my mother suggested. “She's excellent in science.”

My sister Emily is nine annoying years old. Sometimes I think she's really an alien being. There's no other way to explain her behavior. Like she polishes her fingernails ten different colors. Twenty different colors if you count her toenails. And listen to this. She sleeps with her eyes open. I'm not kidding. She rolls her eyes back in her head and all you see is the white part.

“If I ask Emily, I already know what she'll say,” I answered. “She'll tell me to write about reptiles.” Emily loves everything that's cold-blooded. If it's ugly and has scales, you can count her in.

“What's wrong with reptiles?” said a voice from behind me. It was none other than Lizard Girl herself, with Katherine, her pet iguana, wrapped around her neck like a scarf.

“Reptiles shed their own skin,” I said. “How can you love something that walks right out of its own skin and leaves it there on the ground for other people to crunch on?”

“Hank, you are so narrow-minded,” Emily said.

“At least I don't bite my toenails,” I shot back.

“Stop it, you two,” my mom said, holding up her hand, “or we're not going away for the weekend at all.”

“Where are we going?” asked Emily.

“We're talking about going to Uncle Gary and Aunt Maxine's for the twins' birthday,” my mom answered.

“We can't do that,” Emily said. “What will we do with Katherine? You know she gets carsick.”

One time, we took Katherine on a trip and she coughed up her lunch. She must have had grapes for dessert, because I'm sure I saw a whole green grape there on the backseat.

“Dad!” Emily screamed. “We need you in here right away. I'm calling a family meeting.”

Family meetings in our house are not as good as they sound. My mom calls them to remind us not to leave our wet towels on the carpet after we take a shower. My dad calls them to yell at us when we have to pay late fees for rented videotapes. Emily calls them just to whine. I never call them. Why call for a meeting you don't want to attend in the first place?

My father walked into my bedroom, still holding the newspaper folded to the crossword puzzle. He's a crossword puzzle fanatic and proud of it.

“I'm in a very good mood,” he said. “You're looking at the man who just solved today's crossword in six minutes and eleven seconds. A personal best.”

“Congratulations, Dad,” I said.

“Thank you, Hank. Now what's the problem, Emily? I'm in a problem-solving mood.”

“Mom says we're making plans to go away for the weekend. No one has made plans for Katherine. Is she not a member of this family?”

“I vote no,” I said immediately.

“She can't stay here alone,” Emily whined. “She's afraid of the dark.”

“Maybe Papa Pete can look after the beast,” I suggested. Papa Pete is my grandpa and the single best human being in the whole world.

“Katherine is not a beast,” Emily said.

“I was referring to you,” I said.

“That's enough, Hank,” my mom said. “Besides, Papa Pete can't look after Katherine. He's staying out in Westhampton for a couple of days. He wouldn't miss the twins' birthday. He's their grandfather, too.”

“What did we do with the animals when we went to Niagara Falls last summer?” my dad asked.

“We left Cheerio with Mrs. Fink next door,” I said. Cheerio is our beige dachshund dog. We call him that because he's always chasing his tail and when he spins around in a circle, he looks like a Cheerio. “I'll bet Mrs. Fink would watch him again. They really bonded.”

“Katherine stayed at the pet store,” Emily said. “George took care of her.”

“You remember George, Dad,” I said. “The pet store guy who looks like a gerbil.”

“He does not,” Emily said. “He just has a very furry beard.”

“That starts at his eyebrows,” I said.

“Emily, why don't you find the phone number of the pet store,” Dad suggested.

“It's Pets for U and Me,” Mom said. “The number is on the wall by the kitchen phone.”

“Call and find out how much it would cost to keep Katherine there overnight,” Dad suggested.

“Does this mean we're going?” I asked my mom. “I'll work on my science project in Westhampton, I promise.”

My mom thought for a moment. “Okay, we'll go.”

“Mom, you're the greatest,” I said, giving her a big hug.

“It's about time you realized that,” she said, hugging me back.

THE TWINS' PARTY started at twelve thirty, so my dad told us we should be on the road Saturday morning by seven thirty, eight o‘clock the latest. It's only about a three-hour drive to Westhampton, but he always builds in “lost time.” That's the time when my dad is convinced it's a right turn and my mother says, “Stanley, please, just this once, turn left,” and he doesn't, and we get totally lost.

My dad had rented a minivan for the trip and when he left to pick it up, he told us to be waiting outside the apartment building at eight o'clock sharp. I had called Frankie and Ashley and told them we were all meeting downstairs. Dad would drive by and get us, we'd drop off Katherine at Pets for U and Me, and then be on our way.

But when it was time to leave the apartment, we couldn't find Katherine anywhere. She wasn't asleep in her cage. She wasn't in the bathtub where she likes to hang out. She wasn't under the dining room table sniffing for table scraps.

“This isn't like Katherine,” Emily said. “She's never late.”

“That's because she never
goes
anywhere,” I pointed out.

My dad was not happy when he had to leave the minivan on the street for over an hour while we searched the apartment for Katherine. I couldn't believe that all four people in my family, plus Frankie and Ashley and Robert, were crawling around on our hands and knees looking for that scaly beast.

“Where could she be?” I said to my mom. “We've looked everywhere.”

“You've got to think like an iguana,” Emily said. “Put yourself in Katherine's shoes.”

“Okay,” I said. “I feel myself in four little tiny baby Nikes, size one, extra wide. Ouch, they're hurting my claws!”

Frankie and Ashley cracked up.

“Hey guys, I found her!” called Robert from the other side of the room.

He was crouched over the potted palm tree next to our front door. Sure enough, there was Katherine, her nasty little face poking out from behind one of the palm leaves.

“Katherine!” cried Emily. “Come to mama!” She reached into the tree to pick her up, and Katherine hissed at her like she was a rattlesnake with gas. Lots of gas.

“What's the matter, sweetie pie?” Emily said in her baby reptile voice.

“I'm sure she's stressed,” Robert said. “She's had a very terrifying experience.”

Emily looked at Robert and-grab your stomachs because this is disgusting—she got all gooey eyed.

“What a nice thing to say, Robert,” she said, still in her baby reptile voice. “I didn't know you cared so much about iguana moods.”

“Actually,” said Robert, “I'm fond of the whole reptile kingdom, including the bullfrog, the Gila monster, and the gecko, my favorite.”

Could you just barf?

Thank goodness my dad got down to business and cut this icky conversation short.

“Emily, get a box for Katherine. Let's hurry, everyone. We're going to be late for the party.”

We gathered Katherine and all our stuff and piled into the elevator. The minivan was parked outside, and luckily for us, we didn't even get a parking ticket, since my father had double-parked. As soon as she saw the car, Emily yelled out, “Shotgun!”

“Not in this lifetime,” I said. I turned to my mother, who was loading our stuff in the back. “Mom, tell her she's not old enough. Plus, we have guests.”

“Absolutely, and I'm one of them,” said Robert. “So I call shot—”

I didn't even let him finish the word.

“Forget it, Robert. We had a deal, remember? You're next to Lizard Girl. Way in the back.”

It took some wrestling, but I got Emily to move into the backseat by the window on the driver's side. Robert climbed in next to her. That still left one seat in the back, next to the two geekoids.

“I can't sit there,” Ashley said. “I get carsick.”

“I do, too,” I said.

“No, you don't,” my mom called out from the back.

“Well, I would if I had to sit next to
them,”
I said.

Frankie took a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said, “I'm going in. If I don't survive the trip, give my signed Yankees baseball to my brother.”

That's what you call true friendship. Frankie and I get along almost all the time because we'll do anything for each other. The only thing we ever fight about is that Frankie is a Yankees fan and I love, I mean
love,
the Mets. We've been able to stay best friends in spite of that.

Frankie climbed in the backseat next to Robert and wedged himself as close as he could to the window. One inch further and he would've been sitting outside the car on the curb. He drew a line with his fingernail along the upholstery.