The Fix-It Friends--Wish You Were Here Read online

  I nodded.

  “Want to help me fix dessert?”

  Because Granny and Gramps live in Texas, sometimes they use different words than I do. Like they say Putt-Putt instead of mini golf and supper instead of dinner and fix instead of cook. So, if the Fix-It Friends lived in Texas, our job might be to make food for people!

  Granny smiled. “I was gonna fix coconut cream pie.”

  “Can we put whipped cream on top?”

  “You can’t have pie without whipped cream,” answered Granny.

  My thoughts exactly.

  Chapter 16

  When the pie was done, I brought a slice to Pearl. She was in her bedroom, looking at our old photo album. She was staring at a photo of herself on her second birthday, pulling Ricardo out of wrapping paper.

  “Here you go,” I said, handing her the pie. “This’ll make you feel better.”

  But when I handed the plate to her, the fork slid off and clattered to the floor.

  It slid under her bookshelf, so I had to stick my hand under there to grab it. That’s when I felt something furry.

  I pulled at it, but it was wedged in tight. So I stuck both hands under the shelf and tugged and tugged until—

  Pop! The furry thing came loose and went flying out of my hands across the room, right onto Pearl’s lap.

  “Wicawdo!” she cried.

  I scrambled over to her and inspected the stuffed animal on her lap. I wanted to make sure it was the real deal.

  1.  Dirty black fur? Check!

  2.  No whiskers at all? Check!

  3.  Tail stuck on with duct tape? Check!

  “It is Ricardo!” I exclaimed. “Hallelujah!”

  “Hawawuwa!” Pearl repeated.

  She clutched Ricardo to her chest and squeezed him with all her might.

  “Another happy customer,” I said, crossing my arms in front of my chest. I was terrifically proud that I’d solved her problem all on my own, without the other Fix-Its.

  “Little Nicky must have hid Ricardo under there.” I gritted my teeth. “When I get my hands on him…”

  Pearl’s eyes grew enormously big. Then she shook her head.

  “I did it,” she said.

  “You stuffed Ricardo under the bookshelf?”

  “To make him safe. Fwom Nicky.” She nodded. “But I fowgot.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “I hate to say this, but I think we owe someone an apology.”

  Little Nicky was not very nice about the whole thing. Big surprise.

  “I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T TAKE THAT RAT.” Little Nicky crossed his arms and glared at me.

  “I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

  I thought my apology would put him in a good mood, but it did not. He just got madder and madder. He stood up and started waving his arms as he shouted.

  “AND I DIDN’T MEAN TO BREAK THOSE GLASSES.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry we yelled at you.”

  Little Nicky was getting so mad that he was stomping his feet.

  “AND I HATE SLEEPING ON PINK SHEETS AND YOUR TOILET IS TOO LOUD AND THE HOT CHOCOLATE YOU GOT ISN’T SWEET ENOUGH.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  “AND I HATE STUPID YOGA AND I WANT TO GO ON MY DAD’S SHIP BUT THEY DON’T LET KIDS AND—AND—AND I MISS MAMA AND DAAAAAAADDY!”

  Then Little Nicky plopped down on the floor and started to cry. He cried just as loud as he talked.

  I stood there, shocked. I would never have guessed that Little Nicky was missing his parents! Thankfully, Pearl knew just what to do. She walked over to him and handed him Ricardo to squeeze. Then she told Granny that Little Nicky needed a piece of pie. That girl’s a Fix-It Friend in the making!

  Between the rat and the pie and Pearl being nice, Little Nicky cheered up right quick, as Granny would say. Then both he and Pearl fell asleep with no problems. Which meant I did, too.

  Chapter 17

  “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

  At first, I thought it was the voice of the Yorkshire terrier who was flying the helicopter in my dream. But then I heard the voice again, and it sounded familiar. It was not the voice of a Yorkie pilot! It was the voice of my mother!

  I squinted open one eye and there she was—her hazel eyes, her blond hair, her dangly earrings—sitting right on my bed!

  “MOM!” I shouted as I threw my arms around her waist.

  “What a welcome! We should go on vacation more often” came Dad’s voice. He was there, too, standing right next to Mom. I clambered out of bed and jumped into his bear hug.

  “Mom? Dad?” came Jude’s voice from the top bunk. In a flash, he’d scrambled down the ladder and was hugging them, too.

  The racket woke Pearl. She crawled off the air mattress in the corner, holding Ricardo, and clamped her arms tight around Dad’s leg.

  “I tried to call you a bunch of times,” Mom said. “Is everything okay?”

  “Of course!” I exclaimed. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Well, you left us a pretty desperate message,” said Dad.

  “If I recall correctly, the words disaster and ASAP and get on a private jet were used,” Mom added.

  “Oh, that.” I smiled. “That was the day before yesterday.”

  “We handled it,” Jude said.

  Gramps made eggs sunny-side up while we told Mom and Dad all about Ricardo and fake Ricardo and Ezra and Ziggy and everything.

  “Want to come to Ziggy’s memorial?” I asked Mom, Dad, Granny, and Gramps. “It’s tomorrow.”

  “It would be an honor,” said Mom.

  Gramps offered to bring kettle corn, and Granny said she’d fix a coconut cream pie.

  Dad agreed to help Jude with a very special project he was working on for the memorial. Jude needed a guy with a drill, and Dad was just the guy.

  The next morning, we all headed over to the Monroe, which is where Ezra lives. My whole family came, even Little Nicky and Pearl. Cora’s whole family came, too, including her five-year-old twin brothers, Bo and Lou. Little Nicky followed them around everywhere, doing exactly what they did. You could tell he thought they were almost as great as hammerhead sharks.

  Minnie and her moms came, with a cheesecake that Minnie had made herself in baking class. Noah came with his cool teenage babysitter, Ivy. A whole bunch of Ezra’s neighbors from the Monroe came, even grumpy Mr. Luntzgarten, who lives on the fourth floor and hates children.

  Speaking of grumpy people, Mrs. Rose was there, too. She asked me how I was doing with my wart problem. She had a twinkle in her eye.

  Even Miss Tibbs came. It gave me the heebie-jeebies to see her somewhere outside of the school building. It was like seeing a tiger out of the zoo.

  “I brought a fruitcake,” she said, putting something that looked like a big heavy brick on the table full of food.

  Of course Miss Tibbs brought a fruitcake. It’s the one thing with the word cake in it that I would never eat.

  “There’s nothing like a good fruitcake. It’s reliable,” said Mr. Luntzgarten, who was filling his plate. “You wouldn’t believe the cockamamy dishes people bring nowadays.”

  “I would believe it because I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” said Miss Tibbs. She was getting excited and gesturing with her hands. “Quinoa! Quiche! Quince jam! It’s a disgrace!”

  That’s when the most wonderful idea popped up in my brain!

  “Mr. Luntzgarten, this is Miss Tibbs,” I said. “Miss Tibbs, this is Mr. Luntzgarten.”

  “Call me Seymour,” he said, sticking out his hairy hand.

  She shook his hand, and her cheeks turned a little red.

  “I’m Eleanor,” she replied.

  ELEANOR???? I thought.

  In a million years, I never thought I’d find out Miss Tibbs’s first name. Or that it would be Eleanor.

  I walked away from the two of them, and my heart was racing with excitement. It was love at first sight! They’d probably get married, and I’d fina
lly get to be a flower girl! I’d probably have to wear a black dress and sprinkle black flower petals because Miss Tibbs would definitely wear a black wedding gown, because she always wears black. But that would be okay with me.

  A few minutes later, when it seemed like everyone had arrived at the memorial, Jude handed out programs he made.

  Remembering Ziggy

  1.  Opening remarks by Mary Powell

  2.  Guests can share a story about Ziggy

  3.  Musical performance by Veronica Laverne Conti

  4.  Speech by Ezra Ray Powell

  5.  Unveiling of the Ziggy Memorial Statue by Jude B. Conti

  Principal Powell welcomed everyone, and then people shared Ziggy stories. Most of the stories were funny. At first I wasn’t sure if it was okay to laugh. After all, Ziggy was dead. But when I looked over at Ezra and Principal Powell, they were laughing, so I figured it was all right.

  Jude told a story about when he lost his favorite mechanical pencil and searched Ezra’s whole apartment for it.

  “It was a very rare kind of pencil. It had a nonslip grip, durable lead, and a perfect point—”

  I cleared my throat, which is the international signal for You’re boring everyone to tears. Get to the point!

  “So anyway, I was standing in the kitchen, and I heard Ziggy squeaking like crazy. I walked over, and I saw that my pencil was lying on the floor, next to his cage.”

  He shook his head in amazement. “He knew! He just knew.”

  Dad made a little speech, too.

  “I’m the super in this building, so I’ve met almost all the pets that live here. Most of them give me trouble,” said Dad. “The stories I could tell you! Bearded dragons are the worst because their crickets are always getting loose. But Ziggy never gave me any problems. No noise complaints. No odor issues. He was a dream pet.”

  Then it was Mom’s turn. “Over the years, we’ve had the pleasure of pet-sitting for Ziggy when the Powells went away. I always enjoyed the time Ziggy spent with us. I know we all miss him dearly. But, as the great poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson said, ‘’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’”

  Good old Mom. She has a famous quote for every occasion.

  After the stories, it was time for my musical performance. Cora had found a karaoke version of the song about the three birds, and she played it on her mom’s phone. I sang along on the microphone I got for Christmas.

  I thought of Ziggy as I sang. It’s a really nice song because it says over and over, “Every little thing is gonna be all right.” As I sang it, I started to really believe it.

  When I was done, everyone clapped and I took a little bow. Then Ezra walked to the front of the room. He took a deep breath and started to speak. Even though it’s usually hard to understand what Ezra says because he talks so fast, on this day, his voice was slow and calm.

  “That was Ziggy’s favorite song. I love it, too. It just makes you feel good. Like, even on the days when you’re sad and it feels like you’re frozen from the tips of your toes to the tips of your fingers. Even on those days, if you listen to the song, a tiny piece of you starts to feel warm, like the sun is shining on you and melting the ice away. And the more you listen, the more melts away, and the better you feel.

  “Ziggy did the same thing for me. If I ever had a terrible day at school, I would take Ziggy out of his cage. We’d play fetch or I’d feed him hay or just pet him, and I’d start to feel a little better. Things were never as bad as they seemed.”

  Ezra wiped a bunch of tears away then, but I didn’t hand him a tissue because I needed them for my own face.

  “Ziggy, you were a great friend. I’ll miss you a lot. But you’ll always be with me, in my heart.”

  Then Ezra sat down and his mom gave his shoulder a squeeze.

  After that, it was time for Jude to unveil the special gift he had made. He carried a shoe box to the front of the room and lifted out a small clay statue that looked just like Ziggy. There was a wooden base under the statue, and the sign on the base said:

  In loving memory of

  Ziggy Stardust Powell

  Pet, Dreamer, Friend

  By the time the memorial was over, there was not a single tissue left in the box.

  Chapter 18

  The next day was Sunday, the day Gramps and Granny had to leave. Little Nicky, too.

  I could not wait for Pearl to move back into her own room. I was tired of guarding all my special stuff from Little Nicky and tired of hearing facts about sharks. I was counting down the days until Sunday.

  But when Sunday came, I felt sorry they were leaving.

  “I’ll miss you, sugar,” Granny said to me. “But we’ll see you real soon.”

  “And remember, if you get a hankering for kettle corn, your mama knows my secret recipe,” said Gramps with a wink. “Just don’t let her skimp on the sugar.”

  “I won’t,” I said, giving him a huge squeeze.

  “Say thank you to your cousins for being such good hosts, Little Nicky,” Granny instructed.

  “THANK YOU,” Little Nicky said as he walked to the door, with his enormous backpack on his little back. But when he got to the door, he paused. Then he unzipped his backpack and pulled out one of his plastic sharks. He walked over to Pearl and handed it to her.

  “YOU DON’T HAVE ANY SHARKS IN THIS PLACE,” he said. “YOU CAN HAVE THIS ONE IF YOU WANT. IT’S A HAMMERHEAD BABY. I NAMED IT RALPH BUT YOU CAN CHANGE THE NAME.”

  “Thank you,” said Pearl with a smile.

  “JUST DON’T PUT IT NEAR A GREAT WHITE,” said Little Nicky very seriously. “THEY DON’T GET ALONG.”

  Pearl nodded.

  “OKAY BYE,” said Little Nicky. And then all three of them were gone.

  * * *

  With Little Nicky gone, things in our house were very calm. Almost too calm. Pretty boring, in fact. So, two weeks later, on another freezing-cold Sunday, Cora and I were complaining to Dad about how there was nothing to do. I had put on my curly red wig and tried to use cuteness mind control on Dad so he’d let us play with his staple gun, but it didn’t work. Cora was just about to try talking to him when the phone rang.

  Jude picked up and we heard him say, “Oh, hi!” and then “Uh-huh.… Really? Yeah, Ronny and Cora are here.… Right now?… I don’t know. I’ll ask my dad.”

  Then he said, “Dad? Can we all go over to Ezra’s house? He says he’s got a surprise to show us.”

  Cora and I shrieked so loudly that it almost broke Dad’s eardrums. So he said, “Sure.”

  The whole way over, I tried to guess what the surprise was.

  “He’s taking us to Disneyland! That would be great! I never did get those Mickey Mouse ears I wanted.”

  Jude shook his head.

  “Maybe it’s a karaoke machine. Ezra does love music. Or a balance beam? Oh! Oh! I know what it is! It’s a ROBOT!” I shrieked. “Yes! That has to be it! Ezra has always wanted a robot! Remember when he tried to make one and—”

  I was annoying Dad so much that he stopped in a deli on the way and bought me an enormous jawbreaker just to make me stop talking. Sometimes being a chatterbox has advantages.

  When we got to Ezra’s apartment, he told us to sit on the couch and close our eyes. A minute later, I felt something on my lap. It was really warm. And soft. And it was purring.

  I opened my eyes and saw the fluffiest, tiniest, sweetest kitten you have ever seen. It was completely black with eyes that were yellow and twinkly. I was too happy to gasp. I just stared in amazement at the little creature.

  “Meet Sergeant Pepper,” said Ezra, who was smiling from ear to ear. “We call him Pep for short.”

  “He’s wonderful,” Cora cooed.

  “Absolutely perfect,” I whispered.

  “I think we just found the star for our next movie,” said Jude.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” agreed Ezra.

  “He sure is a cutie,” said Dad, scratchi
ng behind Pep’s ears. “Makes me really wish I wasn’t allergic.”

  “He’s actually hypoallergenic,” Ezra said.

  “Is that true?” asked Dad. “Huh. Something to think about.”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  Could it be? Dare I dream?

  I knew just what to put on my next Christmas list!

  Take the Fix-It Friends Pledge!

  I, (say your full name), do solemnly vow to help kids with their problems. I promise to be kind with my words and actions. I will try to help very annoying brothers even though they probably won’t ever need help because they’re soooooo perfect. Cross my heart, hope to cry, eat a gross old garbage fly.

  When Your Pet Dies …

  All pets—big or small; young or old; furry, feathered, or scaly—are part of the family. When they die, you might feel sad or angry or confused or guilty. You might feel all these things, or you might not feel much of anything at all. However you feel, it’s totally okay. It’s all a part of grieving and of getting used to life without them.

  How did you feel?

  “I felt empty. I felt like I wanted to be alone.”

  —Henry G., age eleven, owner of Lief the cat

  “I felt really sad, and I didn’t want to go to school, because I was afraid that I would start crying in the middle of class.”

  —Willa, age eight, owner of Fez the cat

  “I was like, what am I going to do? I was super scared that my two gerbils were going to die, too. It was really hard for me to go to sleep. I actually had nightmares.”

  —Finley, age eight, owner of Murray the cat

  What helps?

  “I talked to people about Thai, and I told them what I felt. Sharing my emotions helped take the weight off of my shoulders.”

  —Edie, age eleven, owner of Thai the cat

  “I did schoolwork, and it took my mind off of it.”

  —Jorja, age ten, owner of Chester the dog

  “We had a funeral service in the park. That helped a little bit; it made me feel like he was a part of my family and that he really mattered.”