Teddy Mars Book #1 Read online

  Grumpy Pigeon Man sighs and sounds like our cat sneezing. “Do you want to earn some money or not?”

  I finally understand what he’s getting at. “Yes, sir. I need a lamp so I can read at night. Holding a flashlight in one hand and a book in the other is harder than it looks.”

  He sighs again. The resemblance to Smarty Pants is uncanny. “Get yourself over here, Tent Boy.”

  MY NEW JOB: INSIDE THE PIGEON COOP

  “I’ve never been inside a pigeon coop,” I say.

  “It’s an aviary, Tent Boy.”

  “An aviary,” I say. “That’s a much cooler word than coop or birdhouse. But I guess birdhouses are usually smaller. But technically this is a bird house.”

  “Do you always talk this much?”

  “I don’t know how to answer that, sir. If I answer, I’m talking, and clearly you want me to be quiet, but if I don’t answer you’ll think I wasn’t listening.”

  “Pigeons like quiet,” Grumpy Pigeon Man grumps. “If you can’t be quiet you can’t have the job, Tent Boy.”

  “Teddy,” I remind him.

  “Sure, Tent Boy. Follow me.” We go around to the side of the shed I’ve never seen. There is a door, just like I thought, but also two windows on either side of the door. He opens it and we step inside. “Always close this door.”

  “I can do that. Not a problem. I close doors all the time—” Then I stop because it’s so quiet. It’s quiet like the grown-ups’ library is and seriously like my house never is. The birds scratch and coo. Their feathers make a soft sound that matches their voices.

  The room is made of wood. One wall is covered with wooden cubes that some pigeons are sitting in. Some are fluffing themselves, some are sleeping. There aren’t any cages or anything.

  “They look like the cubbies we had in kindergarten,” I whisper.

  “They’re nesting boxes, not cubbies.”

  “Nesting boxes,” I repeat. “That is a cooler word than cubbies.”

  He opens a big bin. “This is their food.”

  I point to a door. “That must go into the porch.”

  “It’s called a loft, and before you say anything, it is a cooler word than what you called it.”

  MY NEW JOB PART 2: INSIDE THE PORCH (I MEAN LOFT)

  We walk through and are now in the loft, which is a cool word.

  It’s screened in on every side, and there is a door to get out. From here, I can see my tent, backyard, and house. I can also see Grumpy Pigeon Man’s house and his back door. “Except for the pigeons this is like my gran’s porch.”

  “Loft, Tent Boy, loft,” Grumpy Pigeon Man says. “Twice a day you’ll feed them. They eat for ten minutes, then you take the seed away. This door is only used to let the birds out for exercise.”

  We walk back into the aviary and he shows me a long rectangular tray made of wood, with a roof and wooden bars across it. “This is for their food.” He points to something that looks like a rocket but with holes around the bottom. “This is for water. And that”—he nods toward a shallow metal bowl—“is for their baths.”

  “They bathe in a bowl?” I ask.

  “What else would they bathe in? A hot tub?” He walks out of the aviary. I follow. “Didn’t I say close the door?”

  I nod.

  “So do it.”

  He points to a bucket and a spigot that’s attached to his house. “You change their water and clean their bathing bowl here.”

  “Got it.”

  “Lastly, don’t think that because you’re working here you can invite anyone into the aviary. These birds are not toys. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m giving you the rest of today off. I’ll expect you tomorrow morning at five thirty.”

  “That’s early.”

  “Do you want the job, Tent Boy?”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.” As I walk away I picture my first paycheck going to an alarm clock. I might even have to get an advance from my parents.

  ALARM CLOCK: THE QUEST

  “Oh brother,” Viva whispers across the table. “Who gets up at five thirty to feed pigeons?”

  Viva works on her eagle, which is mid-dive, claws outstretched about to catch its prey. Lonnie’s owl is looking very cool perched in its tree. I feel like I could touch his feathers. My pigeon, on the other hand, is definitely not looking as noble as I would like.

  “No wonder the guy is so grumpy,” Lonnie says. “He needs more sleep.”

  Viva laughs. “You must like pigeons a lot to get up so early.”

  “All I know is I need an alarm clock.”

  “Why did you say yes?” Lonnie asks.

  “Try saying no to that guy.” Which is true, but it’s also true that I can’t believe he asked me. He could’ve asked anyone. I’ve got a lot of sisters. On top of that, I finally have two things that are just mine: the tent and this job.

  “I want to see inside the coop,” Viva says. “When are you inviting us over?”

  “Aviary,” I say. “And never. Grumpy Pigeon Man made it clear.”

  “I don’t want to get on his bad side.” Lonnie shivers.

  “What’s so scary about this guy?” Viva asks.

  Before I can answer, Ms. Raffeli appears at our desks. “A little less talking and a little more drawing. And Teddy, what happened to your pigeon? It looks like it’s been through a war.”

  I wait for her to move on to another group. “There isn’t anything scarier than a Grumpy Pigeon Man, which is why I need an alarm clock, and I need it tonight. The chances of me waking up without it are as likely as seeing a giant squid in the ocean.”

  Viva looks confused.

  “The Guinness Book of World Records?” Lonnie asks.

  I nod. “Largest creature never spotted in its natural habitat.”

  “I can’t help you,” Lonnie says. “My clock plugs into the wall and you don’t have electricity in your tent.”

  Viva shrugs. “My mom still wakes me. Maybe you could get yours to wake you.”

  “Viva, you’ve got to remember you’re an only child,” Lonnie says. “Teddy’s mom would wake him about the same day those scientists find the giant squid.”

  Boy, is he ever right.

  ALARM CLOCK: THE QUEST PART 2

  After school, I drop my backpack and head for the kitchen. I’ve got to find an alarm clock or I’ll lose my job before I work one day.

  Mom is doing dishes. The Destructor sits in his cat box, looking through my old copy of The Guinness Book of World Records. The one he destroyed. “Hi, Teddy.” He waves to me. I’m still mad at him so I ignore him.

  “Hey, Mom—”

  “Jake said hi to you,” Mom interrupts.

  “Hi, Destructor,” I say.

  “His name is Jake,” she says.

  I ignore her. “Mom, I need your help. You know Grumpy Pigeon Man hired me—”

  “Mr. Marney,” she interrupts.

  “You know Mr. Marney hired me to feed his pigeons. He’s going to pay me.”

  Grace walks in and stomps on my foot.

  “Ouch!” Of course she ignores my suffering, and so does Mom.

  “You’re working for Grumpy Pigeon Man?” Grace asks.

  “Mr. Marney,” Mom says.

  “Gross. You’ll be totally covered in pigeon poo.”

  “Who’s covered in pigeon poo?” Sharon asks as she walks in, for once not practicing for her musical. “Don’t tell me it’s some weirdo in this room. I have a hard enough time being a part of this family without being made fun of because someone is covered in pigeon poo.”

  Maggie hops into the kitchen, pulling on her sneakers. “Pigeon poo isn’t so bad. It’s good luck if a pigeon poos on you. Everyone knows that.”

  Grace snorts. “Teddy knows that. Your life really changed the day you got pooed on, right Teddy?”

  “I am not going to be pooed on. Mom!”

  “Of course you’re not going to be pooed on. Everyone leave Teddy alon
e. Just make sure you take your shoes off before you come in the house. There could be poo on them.”

  ALARM CLOCK: THE QUEST PART 3

  “I don’t believe this!” I say. “Look, Mom, I need an alarm clock. I’ve got to be there at five thirty tomorrow morning. Do you have one?”

  “We do, but your father and I use it.”

  “I have to get up, Mom,” I say.

  And maybe to make up for the disastrous birthday she says, “I’m sure we can get a clock before tomorrow.”

  “Mom,” Maggie interrupts, “you said you’d drive me to practice today. Come on.”

  “I’ll pick it up on my way back,” she says.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I say just as Caitlin and Casey crash into the house and the phone starts ringing. They are moving fast across the kitchen and they both lunge for it. But Mom is faster than she looks. She’s also got this thing called telepathy where she knows stuff without being told. She could tell there was someone on that phone she needed to talk to.

  “Yes. Yes. What?” she says. “No! No! Of course, Principal Lawrence.” Caitlin and Casey are super quiet during this exchange. Mom hangs up.

  “Unbelievable! I have nothing to say, but this is not the end of it.” She looks like she’s about to scream her head off but instead she points up the stairs, sign language for: go to your room and if you speak one single word you’ll be sorry. They read this loud and clear.

  Mauna Loa in Hawaii is the world’s largest active volcano. That means it still erupts, but not often. The last time was 1984. Mom is like that. She doesn’t blow her top a lot but when she does it’s big and it’s best to stay back. The problem is I really need that alarm clock.

  “So can you still get that clock today?” I ask.

  “OUT!” she yells, waving a wooden spoon. “EVERYBODY OUT!”

  It’s like we all see the lava and run.

  MY ALARM CLOCK

  Dad says his cell phone is too important and if something happened to it he’d be up a creek without a paddle. So he gives me an old watch of his. “It doesn’t have an alarm but at least you’ll know what time it is when you do wake up. Be sure it doesn’t get pooed on.”

  “Ha, ha,” I say. “But I don’t see how knowing the time without the alarm is going to help.”

  “It’s the best I can do tonight.”

  “Mom said she’d get me an alarm clock.”

  “The twins distracted us. Congratulations on the job and good luck. You’re braver than I am.”

  So I go to sleep wondering what the heck I’m doing working for Grumpy Pigeon Man, and at the same time just hoping I wake up.

  FIRST DAY

  “Tent Boy! Tent Boy!” Grumpy Pigeon Man yells at me. In my dream I’m one of his pigeons and I’ve just pooed all over Jake. “Tent Boy! Wake up!” I sit up, startled, and unzip the tent. Grumpy Pigeon Man is actually waking me up. He’s not in my tent, but he’s calling across the fence. “I’m awake,” I say.

  “Hurry up. If you want this job you have two minutes to get over here.”

  I can’t believe it. Grumpy Pigeon Man is my alarm clock! I never thought he’d do that.

  I still need to get one though. The chances that he’ll stay my alarm clock are as good as me beating the record for the largest rubber duck collection (5,631).

  There’s no way it’ll happen.

  FIRST DAY PART 2

  “Not like that,” Grumpy Pigeon Man barks. “Like this.” “Not that much food.” “The food goes in the tray, not on the floor.” “Ten minutes is up.” “Don’t spill the water.” “Take it away.” “Clean out that dish.” “Watch what you’re doing.” “Don’t scare the pigeons.” “Close the door.” “Don’t slam it, Tent Boy.”

  Orders pour out of Grumpy Pigeon Man like the 120 million (seriously 120 million) red crabs that pour out of their burrows once a year on Christmas Island, the record for highest crab density. (You don’t want to know why.)

  I walk back to my tent wondering why I thought working for Grumpy Pigeon Man was a good idea. It’s safe to say, I’m the only one in my family dumb enough to say yes. For a second, I think about The Destructor, and about how mad I get at him sometimes.

  But before the thought sinks in my brain, I look up to see him running straight at me. His arms are stretched wide. “TEDDY!” he hollers. “I miiiissss youuuu!!!” He throws himself into my arms. I topple over backward and land straight onto my tent. It collapses and stays that way even when I push The Destructor off.

  “He just wanted to give you a hug,” Dad says later. I don’t say a word. He stands around watching me put up the tent and tries again. “I’m glad the tent’s not broken.”

  I nod as I put it up for what feels like the millionth time.

  GRACE’S PROOF

  Grace unzips my tent and sticks her head in. “Do you realize you’ve lived in this tent for twenty-two days?” She holds up her phone and clicks.

  “Leave me alone, Grace.”

  “Never. It’s the only proof I have. No one in my class believes that I have such a nut-o for a brother without the pictures.” She zips up my tent and then says, “I’ll be back.”

  If only I could figure out how to prove that she’s a nut-o.

  IT’S OFFICIAL

  Every day Lonnie asks me what it’s like to work for Grumpy Pigeon Man. Viva, of course, badgers me too, not only for information but also to invite them over so she can experience the pigeons firsthand.

  (Her words, not mine.)

  For some reason I haven’t talked about my first week. Not even to Lonnie. I just needed to get through it, and now I have.

  “Strange but true,” I say, “this week could only have been worse if I was Wim Hof and spent 1 hour and 52 minutes 42 seconds buried up to my neck in ice.”

  Lonnie takes a bite out of his sandwich. “Was it as bad as eating 35,000 scorpions like Rene Alvarenga?”

  “Maybe not that bad.”

  Viva leans in. “As bad as stuffing 400 drinking straws in your mouth. That has got to hurt.”

  Lonnie and I freeze. I’m pretty sure our eyes pop out, definitely not as far as Kim Goodman, whose eyes pop out from her head 0.47 inches, which might not seem like a lot but look at the picture and you know it is. “When did you start following The Guinness Book of World Records?” I ask.

  “I always have.” She snorts. “You don’t own the exclusive rights to it.”

  “I know. I just didn’t know you liked it.”

  “I’ve been reading it since I was five.”

  “It’s official,” Lonnie says.

  “What?” I ask.

  “She’s one of us.” Lonnie has always been generous that way. He’s never been an excluder. He says it’s not the Jedi way.

  “What about Star Wars?” I ask. “Doesn’t she have to pass some Star Wars test?”

  “You think I don’t know Star Wars?” she says. “Ask me.”

  Lonnie smiles and says. “R2-D2 and C-3PO are inspired by which actors?”

  “Laurel and Hardy.” She turns to me and waits for my question.

  “What vegetable was used in the asteroid scene in The Empire Strikes Back?”

  “That’s easy, a potato.” She turns back to Lonnie.

  He thinks and then asks, “Which Kenner action figures never came out?”

  “Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen Lars.”

  Lonnie says, “The Force is clearly with her.”

  “Fine,” I say. Viva is still annoying, but she’s grown on me, sort of like the record for tallest stack of pancakes (2 feet 6 inches).

  Viva shrugs. “I’m glad you two finally realized it. So when can I get to meet these pigeons?”

  THE TWINS

  Nothing’s a secret in our family. The walls are pretty much as thin as my tent.

  Caitlin and Casey pretended to be each other at school. All day long Caitlin went to Casey’s classes and all day long Casey went to Caitlin’s classes. It wasn’t until sixth period that they got caught. Turns out Cai
tlin is better at math. Grace tells me all of this when she comes outside to take her weekly picture of me.

  The twins switched at school once before, when they were eight. They didn’t get into trouble that time because they were so little. I wonder what will happen now that they’re fourteen?

  RECORD ATTEMPT 7

  The fastest time to push an orange for a mile with the nose is 24 minutes and 36 seconds. This is a record I can beat.

  Of course, to get to a mile in our kitchen means going back and forth a bunch of times, but that’s okay. I measured it and 352 times doesn’t sound too bad.

  FAILED ATTEMPT 7

  I wasn’t prepared for all the dust up my nose. Clearly the guy who broke that record was on a much cleaner floor than mine. It’s been hours and my nose still feels itchy.

  THE NIGHT BEFORE HALLOWEEN

  “Don’t make me do it, Dad,” I say. “Please!”

  “We talked about this before, Teddy. Either Jake trick-or-treats with you or you don’t go. Mom is visiting Gran for two days. Sharon has a rehearsal. I’m taking Maggie and five other girls to the soccer game and we won’t get back until late. Grace’s going with the Van Epps. Anyway, Lonnie will be with you, and his mom will be here until I get back.”

  “What about Caitlin and Casey? Why don’t they take him?”

  “They’re still grounded for that stunt they pulled at school,” Dad says. “And to be perfectly honest, I don’t trust them.”

  “Oh great,” I say. “So if I was less trustworthy I could have a Destructor-free Halloween?”

  “You’ll be fine, Teddy. All you have to do is walk him to a few doors, get some candy, and bring him home. Lonnie’s mom will stay with him while you and Lonnie go back out. I’ll be home in time to put him to bed. And here’s his costume.” Dad hands me a box with a hole cut in the bottom and another cut in the front. It looks remarkably like a cat box.

  “What is he going as?” I ask.

  “A cat in a cat box.” Dad tries to keep a straight face when he says this. “Just draw some whiskers on his face, pink up his nose, and have him climb in. People will love it.”