When Life Gives You O.J. (7 page)

“From where?”

“Brookline.”

“Don’t you mean BrookLYN?” I asked.

He grinned again. “Not Brooklyn. BrookLINE. It’s in Massachusetts, just outside of Boston.”

“Oh,” I said, embarrassed. “Sorry. I used to live in Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn’s great,” said Jeremy quickly. “My dad actually grew up there.”

“Oh yeah?” I said.

“What grade are you going into?”

“Sixth.”

“Me too. Are you eleven?”

“I will be in October.”

“Me too! October eighth.”

“Yastrzemski,” I said, out of habit. Everyone in Vermont seemed to think eight was a lucky number because it had been the uniform number of Carl Yastrzemski, the famous Red Sox player. He was such a big deal they retired the number eight, so now no one else can wear it.

“Yeah,” he said proudly. “Hey, are you a Sox fan?”

“Not really. But the kids in my little brother’s class went nuts when they found out his birthday is double Yastrzemski,” I told him.

“August eighth?” he asked.

“Yup.”

“What about you?”

“October fourth,” I told him. I was already getting really excited for it, even though my family is a little too fond of practical presents. Every year, one of my gifts is a too-big sweater, and every year Ace says the exact same thing: “YOU SHOULD USE IT IN GOOD HEALTH.” Whatever that means.

Just then, Jeremy said, “So, what’s with the, uh, is that a milk jug?”

I had forgotten about O.J. “I, uh, that is … It’s a science project,” I lied.

“Cool!” said Jeremy. “Do you go to science camp?”

“No. I mean, it’s actually more of a psychology experiment.”

“Hey, my dad is a psychology professor!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! That’s actually why we moved here. He got a job at the university, and it’s tenure track, so my mom said we couldn’t turn it down. Even though she hated the cold in Boston, and here it’s supposed to be much worse.”

“It’s not that bad,” I told him, though from what I remembered from visiting Bubbles and Ace at The Farm in winter, it totally is.

“So, what’s the experiment?” asked Jeremy.

“Um, well, it was my grandfather’s idea. He’s a judge? I mean, he was, but he’s retired from the bench.” Jeremy nodded, looking super-fascinated. “He thought it would be interesting to see what would happen if I took an object, like this jug, and pretended it was a dog. To see how people might, um, react.” Somehow, I had succeeded in making the reason I was walking O.J. sound even weirder than the actual reason I was walking O.J.

“Cool,” said Jeremy. “So, are you trying to see if people think you are crazy and treat you differently as a result?”

“Um, yeah, I guess so.”

“What are your findings so far?”

“I, uh, well, so far I just got started.”

Jeremy frowned and nodded solemnly. “I thought you looked a little weird when I first saw you coming down the block. But not crazy. You should act crazier.”

“I should
what
?”

“Act crazier. You know, to make people think you really believe you’re walking a dog. Like, maybe petting it? Or playing with it? Like this.” He got down on all fours next to O.J. and held up the tennis ball, which he had carried over with him, yelling, “Here, boy! You want the ball? You want it?” He bounced the ball on the sidewalk and caught it.

“Yeah, uh, maybe,” I said, looking around to make sure no one had seen. I wished he’d get up.

“O.J.? His name is O.J.?” asked Jeremy, leaning in and squinting.

“No,” I said.

“Then why’s it on his collar?” asked Jeremy, pointing. He sat up on his heels and laughed. “Hey, I get it. That’s funny. It’s made from an old orange juice jug.”

“No duh,” I said. I was pretty sure he wasn’t laughing at me, but I suddenly wished I hadn’t told him anything.

“Jeremy?” A woman who also had dark brown wavy hair had come out of the house and was standing on the front porch. “Oh, there you are.”

Jeremy picked himself up off the sidewalk. “Mom, check it out. This is Zelly. Zelly FRIED,” he added meaningfully. “She’s ten too.”

“Almost eleven,” I corrected him.

“Didn’t I tell you? You were worried for nothing. Nice to meet you, Zelly.” I could tell she was looking at O.J., but thankfully she didn’t ask. “Jeremy, sweetie, I reached a good stopping point. If you want, we can go hit some balls now.”

“Just a sec,” Jeremy told her.

“Okay. See you soon, I hope, Zelly,” Jeremy’s mom said to me before she went back into the house.

“Do you play?” Jeremy asked me.

“Play?”

“Tennis.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose and bounced the ball again.

“Uh, no.” I didn’t know how to tell him that kids around here play soccer, baseball, and hockey. Not tennis. And boys around here don’t wear necklaces.

“If you want, I could teach you sometime. We can play for free at the university because my dad is going to be teaching there. They even have outdoor courts where you can play at night.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe,” I said.

“Cool!” said Jeremy, dashing toward his house. When he reached the other side of the street, he turned and yelled, “Bye, O.J.!”

I dragged O.J. down to the dead end, dumped him out, and cleaned up after him down there. It went a lot better than the first time, probably because I was pretty sure no one was watching me. Also, because there was less mess to clean up this time, and after the first disastrous mess I knew what not to do in terms of how to hold the plastic bag. After I disposed of the bag, I waited for as long as I could stand. I wanted to be sure to give Jeremy and his mom plenty of time to leave so I wouldn’t run into them on the way back home.

When I finally got home, my mom was waiting at the door.

“Zelly, where have you been? I was getting worried.”

“I took O.J. for a walk.”

“To where? Brooklyn?” She gave me an anxious little smile.

“I’m sorry. I was talking to this kid. He just moved 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 him
down 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 it was still there. No one had taken it down.

It’s working
, I realized, getting goose bumps at the thought.
Ace’s crazy plan is actually working
. I grinned.
What kind of dog should I choose?
In my head, I began making a list of my favorites. A snuggly, smushy-faced pug? A whiskery Scottie? A beagle like Bridget, with long, velvety ears? Or a mixed breed … a snuggly, whiskery, velvety-eared one-of-a-kind dog?

Decisions, decisions.

Then, one morning, I came back inside after walking O.J., and I heard my parents talking with someone in our kitchen.

“Zelly,” called my mom cheerfully, “guess who’s here?”

Allie?
I thought, even though she wasn’t due back from camp yet. I ran in, and who should I see but …

Jeremy Fagel.

Sitting at the kitchen table with my mom, dad, and Sam.

“Thanks,” he said, as my mom handed him a glass of orange juice. “I just figured out this was your house, so I stopped by to see if you wanted to volley with me.”

“Volley?” I asked.

He held up a tennis-racket-shaped bag, which had been
sitting on the empty chair next to him. “There are some courts over at the university. We could just hit balls for an hour, if you want.”

“Yeah, but I don’t—” I started to say.

“I think I have an old racket you could use, Zelly,” said my mom, jumping up. “Let me go look.”

“It took me a couple of days to find you,” announced Jeremy, looking pleased.

“Find me?”

“Yup. I saw you walk around the corner, so I was pretty sure you lived on Cliff Street, but I wasn’t sure which house. I thought with the ‘dog walking’ I’d see you on the street again, but no such luck.” He used his fingers to make quotes in the air when he said the words
dog walking
.

“How’d you track us down?” asked my dad, looking amused.

“I noticed your car because it has a Coney Island bumper sticker. But it also has a Red Sox bumper sticker, which threw me off at first because I knew you were from New York. But
then
I noticed that the Red Sox bumper sticker looked pretty new, so I figured maybe you got it when you moved because you knew how much people in New England hate the Yankees.”

My dad grinned. “Nice detective work,” he said. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to kill you now.”

Jeremy laughed. “Oh, I won’t tell,” he promised. “Besides, my dad is actually a Yankees fan too. He grew up in Flatbush. It drives him nuts that me and my brother Seth root for the Sox.”

“I can imagine.”

“But the truth is,” admitted Jeremy, looking sheepish, “I still wouldn’t have rung the bell if Zelly’s shoes hadn’t been out front. I recognized them from the day we met. Seth bet me I couldn’t track you down, so ha! He owes me five bucks.”

“Voilà!” cried my mother, returning to the kitchen holding up a tennis racket. “This was mine in college. Probably could stand to get restrung one of these days, but for today it should do okay.”

Just then, Ace came into the kitchen.

“YOU GOT ANY TUMS?” he demanded.

Jeremy jumped to his feet.