Hold the Pickles (4 page)

I decided to cut my losses and give the costume to Hammy right away before I totally ruined it. Maybe if I helped him clean up at the end of the day, he'd forgive me.

I waddled toward the exit. I was tired, so I was moving slowly. But I also needed time to figure out what to say to Hammy. I wasn't looking forward to the conversation at all.

I had just passed Bubble Tea 'n Biscuits when someone grabbed my hand and pulled me behind the stall.

Not this again, I thought.

“Frank!”

My heart skipped numerous beats. Brooke hadn't given up on me after all.

She didn't let go of my hand, even when she turned and called out in a loud whisper, “Kelsey! I found him!”

Brooke waved Kelsey over, then turned back to me. “We've been looking everywhere for you! I wanted to thank you for rescuing me.”

She put her arms around me and kissed my cheek—or at least what she thought was my cheek. I was so thrilled, I forgot to sneeze.

“It was nothing,” I said, and I meant it—although I tried to make it sound like I was just being humble. If she wanted to think I was heroic for falling over at the right time, why should I argue?

“Nothing?!” she said in disbelief. “No, it wasn't, was it, Kelsey?”

Kelsey stopped rummaging around in her big red purse and looked at me. “It was totally a big deal,” she said. She gave a quick smile, then went back to rifling through her stuff.

“See?” Brooke said. “I told you. I'm so glad you were there for me. That guy has been following me around all day. He gives me the creeps.”

He gave me the creeps too, but I didn't say so. I said, “Would you like me to call security about him for you?” I hoped that sounded like a mature response to the situation.

Brooke shook her head and chuckled as if I was being silly. It was very cute. “Oh, no! I'd never do that to the poor guy! He's harmless.”

He didn't look harmless to me. I didn't mention that though. I didn't want to sound like a wimp.

“He's probably just lonely.” She shrugged. “It's sort of my fault that he's hanging around. I should have been firmer with him in the first place, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I thought it would be mean to say I wasn't interested in him. It might have been nicer to tell him that, though, than to hide every time he comes by now!”

She laughed and fiddled with the green-felt relish sewn to my front. It reminded me of my mother fixing my father's tie before he got his picture taken.

“I guess that's one thing you don't have to worry about, eh?” she said.

“Him being interested in me?” I said.

Brooke laughed like I was making a joke, but I honestly didn't know what she was talking about.

“No, silly! Having to hide!” She tried to look into my eyeholes. “You're totally disguised in this big old thing. I don't even know what you look like!”

Now
that
really scared me. I stepped away.

“Oh, I'm nothing special,” I said. “Just your average ruggedly handsome movie-star type. You know.”

She laughed again and gave me a little push. Then she paused like she was embarrassed.

“What?” I said.

She bit her lip, and her eyes lit up.

“What?” I said again. “You can tell me.”

“Oh, I don't know. I was just thinking it must be fun to wear a costume.”

I was going to tell her that, in fact, it's not. The costume is hot and sticky and awkward, and thanks to some unfortunate allergies, it was also covered in snot. But I decided against it. I didn't want to gross her out. I also didn't want to sound like I was whining.

“Oh, yeah!” I said. “It's really fun. You get to try on a whole new personality when you wear one of these.”

That at least was true.

“And you see things from an entirely different point of view too.” Again true.

“Wow. Neat,” she said. I don't think a girl had ever responded to me with either of those words. “You get to goof around and do those funny dances, don't you?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, although to me that seemed like a definite downside of the job.

“Show us,” she said.

I hoped she was joking.

“Come on!” she said and clapped her hands. Kelsey joined in too. “Come on!”

I'm not much of a dancer. I haven't had a lot of opportunity. None of the girls ever lined up to boogie with me at the school dances. But Brooke wanted me to do it, so I did my best.

I just shuffled my feet—the type of thing an itchy duck might do—but the girls laughed and laughed. That encouraged me to wiggle my bun and spin my hands around a bit too. It must have been funnier than I thought it was.

“Oh, my gosh. That's hysterical!” Brooke had to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Mind if I try?”

I wasn't sure I heard her right.

“Could I try on the costume?”

She took one of my hands in both of hers and looked me right in the eyes—or at least what she thought were my eyes.

“Could I? Please? You make it look like so much fun. Just for a minute? I won't go far. Please?”

Everything told me to say no. Uncle Hammy would get mad. I had no clothes to put on. The costume was wet and slimy inside. Brooke would find out that it wasn't the least bit fun to be a mascot.

But she smiled at me and clasped her hands in front of her and jumped up and down a bit too, so none of that stuff mattered.

“Sure,” I said. “Why not?”

Chapter Eleven

It took me at least ten minutes to get out of the costume. It was slimy inside, so I couldn't get a good enough grip to pull it over my head. I finally just lay facedown on the floor of the men's washroom and slithered out backward. It must have looked like the birth of an earthworm.

I stood up and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I actually looked even worse than before. I was still short and skinny and dressed in my underwear, of course. But I was also bright pink and dripping in sweat now too. I had a heat rash on my chin and waxy speckles of snot on my glasses. I'm sure Brooke would have found a newborn earthworm more attractive than me.

Brooke knocked on the washroom door, and I actually jumped like a baby kangaroo. I even had my hands clenched in front of my chest like paws. That's how scared I was. I knew it would be game over if Brooke saw me like this.

“Sorry. I'm not quite ready yet,” I said in the manliest way I could.

She groaned in kind of a jokey way and said, “Oh, no! What's taking you so long?”

“Ah…Well, let's just say, technical difficulties.” They were snot-related technical difficulties, but she didn't need to know that.

“Well, hurry up, Frank! I really want to do this.”

I could tell she was excited to try on the costume, but there was no way I was going to let her have it yet. The Dan Hogg fumes would have killed her. I had to disinfect it first.

It took me a good ten minutes. I completely scrubbed down the costume with pink hand soap, then dried it off with paper towel. It was a lot of work. Wearing a costume means you have to worry about twice as many armpits as you usually do.

Brooke knocked again. “Coming!” I said and gave Frank one more quick check. (And I'm glad I did. There was a wet noodle of snot still hanging from the mouth hole.) I positioned myself behind the door so she couldn't see me and pushed the costume through.

“Oh, thank you, Frank! This is going to be so much fun! Don't worry! I'll be back soon!”

“Whoa. Wait. Don't forget the slippers,” I said and handed them out the door.

“No, no, that's fine. I'll just wear my own shoes. Here, Kelsey. Help me get this on!” I heard their footsteps fade. I peeked through the door in time to see the girls disappear into the ladies' washroom.

I sat in the cubicle for about five minutes feeling blissfully happy. It's not often that a guy like me gets to make a beautiful girl's dream come true.

Then I sat in the cubicle for five minutes more, feeling not quite so happy. Brooke must have lost track of time, I thought. She said she'd be right back.

Then I sat for about two minutes more, feeling downright terrified. Something wasn't right. Brooke was gone too long. It must have been about two thirty by then.

Two thirty!

That's when I remembered Hammy saying he'd be down at three o'clock with fresh samples. I started to shake. He'd paid big money for that costume. I was pretty sure I wasn't supposed to be lending it out. What would he do if he realized I wasn't inside it?

I knew the answer.

Hammy wasn't going to be an Angry Hogg if he caught me. He'd be more like a Wild Boar. (I'd seen the nature videos. This wasn't going to be pretty.)

I did jumping jacks for a while to try and keep my anxiety under control, but they didn't help. They just made me all sweaty again.

I looked out the door at least fifteen times. Brooke had promised she wouldn't go far, but I couldn't see her anywhere. My imagination went crazy. Maybe she fainted from the heat. Maybe she'd gotten disoriented.

Maybe the guy in blue had abducted her.

I could see my heart pounding through my skinny chest. I was really scared. Brooke shouldn't have been so relaxed about that guy. He was bad. I knew it right from the start. I should have called security like I said I was going to.

I had to find Brooke. But how? She was somewhere in a giant arena full of people.

And I was stuck in the men's room in nothing but my underwear and a pair of big green slippers that supposedly looked just like pickles.

Chapter Twelve

Sit in a washroom cubicle long enough, and a janitor is bound to come in. He'll usually be pushing a cart full of mops and brooms and cleaning supplies. He might be whistling the type of song your grandfather whistles—something loud and happy but without much of a tune.

If you're small and quiet, and of course desperate, you can sometimes hide until the janitor is busy trying to unclog one of the toilets. Then you can sneak behind him, grab a giant garbage bag from his cart and slip back into your cubicle unnoticed.

At least that's what I found.

I waited until the janitor left the washroom, then took off my slippers and climbed into the garbage bag. This was a new low even for me.

I yanked out a mile or two of paper towel and stuffed it around me. I wanted the bag to look full.

Now came the hard part.

I pulled the bag up to my shoulders and ducked my head inside. I fit—but just barely. I poked my hands out through the sides and tied a knot in the top of the bag. It was pretty sloppy, so I could break out if I needed to. I pulled my arms back in. I used my thumbs to make two big eyeholes and then, just to be safe, a whole bunch of airholes too.

I bounced over to the door. By the time I got there, my knees were killing me. If I ever wanted to walk again, this wasn't going to work.

Luckily, I hadn't cut my toenails in a while. I used the sharp edges to make two more big holes in the bottom of the bag and wiggled my feet out. I must have looked like an egg about to hatch.

I stuck a hand out and opened the door. I checked to make sure the coast was clear, then waddled outside.

My plan was to be as inconspicuous as possible. I figured no one would notice another garbage bag—as long as the garbage bag didn't go and do something stupid, of course.

I crouched against the wall and inched my way toward the main hall. I tried to keep my toes tucked under the belly of the bag. (I also tried not to squeal when I stepped on cold, mushy French fries, but it wasn't easy.) Nobody pointed at me or screamed in shock. Everyone was more focused on the free samples than on garbage.

Whenever I came to a trash can or a vending machine, I hid behind it for a break. Crouching was hard on the legs. And garbage bags are even hotter than foam wieners.

I was catching my breath behind an overflowing trash can when I found Brooke. I heard her before I saw her. “I'm Frank Lee Better! All natural! High fiber!” She'd lowered her voice so she sounded kind of like a guy.

I stretched the eyeholes open a bit more so I could get a good look.

I was so relieved—not only to find her, but to see her doing such a good job. She didn't have any samples to give away, but people still crowded around her, all dying to find out more about Hogg's Doggs. Maybe Hammy wouldn't be mad after all.

Kelsey was there too. She hovered at the edge of crowd like she was just another bystander. As usual, she was rooting around in that big purse of hers. Something about it irritated me. It was like a person texting someone else while they were supposed to be talking to you. She should have been paying more attention to her friend.

“C'mon, folks. Don't be shy,” Brooke said. “Step right up. Let me tell you all about the Healthy Hottie!”

It almost seemed wrong to stop her. She was doing so much better than I ever had. I looked up and checked the big clock in the middle of the hall. It was only two forty. Hammy wouldn't be here for a while.

I was trying to decide if I should wait here or go back to the washroom when the decision was made for me. I heard whistling. It was loud and happy, but without much of a tune.

The janitor.

I looked out the eyeholes.

He had his cart with him. He was emptying the trash cans.

My first thought was to stay where I was and let him throw me in his cart. I'd wait until his back was turned, then make my escape.

I watched him toss a bag into his cart, and two things struck me: a) that would hurt, and b) there was no way my bag would survive the flight. It was too full of holes. It was bound to burst apart and send me and my tighty-whities flying across the room.

The janitor might also get suspicious of a garbage bag that weighed ninety-seven pounds. That was the first and only time in my life I wished I weighed less.

I had to do something fast. The janitor was getting closer. That happy song was starting to sound like the soundtrack to a horror movie.