Mind If I Read Your Mind? (6 page)

Breeze, Sofia, and Brittany were in the middle of composing a new song. It was called “Pity the Prom Queen,” and it was the tragic story of a girl who was voted prom queen because of her beautiful smile, but her feet smelled so bad that no one danced with her all night. The Hoove listened to them practice. He liked the beat of the song, but he couldn't relate to the lyrics since he had never been to a prom or known a girl whose feet smelled that bad. Except for possibly Madge Perkins, whose father tended to the ranchero's orange groves. Her pet squirrel slept in her left boot every night during the winter, and by February the squirrelly smell was pretty harsh.

The Hoove glided down the basement stairs, unsure exactly how he was going to get the girls to stop rehearsing. At the bottom, he elongated his body like Elastoman and stretched around the corner to survey the scene. He noticed that the washing machine had a pile of dirty clothes stacked on top, waiting for their turn. An idea flashed into his mind. If that machine started up all by itself, that might be enough to send the girls screaming up the stairs and end the rehearsal. He had never done a load of wash before, but how hard could it be?

Floating over to the washing machine, he scooped up the clothes, lifted the lid quietly, and threw them in. He took a box of detergent from the shelf above the machine and poured the entire contents in. Closing the lid, he switched the machine on, then sat down on top of it and waited for the low rumble to start.

When the girls heard the washing machine filling with water, they looked at one another with surprise.

“Did you turn that on?” Sofia asked Breeze.

“No. I've been sitting here right next to you. What about you, Brittany?”

“How could I? I'm holding drumsticks in both hands.”

The girls were quiet for a moment. The Hoove, enjoying their confusion, waited for them to scream and take off. But that didn't happen.

“Maybe my dad rigged it to a timer.” Breeze shrugged. “He likes gadgets.”

Before long, the washing machine had filled with water. The Hoove noticed suds bubbling up so fiercely that they were pushing the lid open and spilling out from the top of the machine.

“Whoa,” he said to himself. “Maybe I over-did it, putting in the whole box of detergent.”

But it was too late. Suddenly, soap suds exploded from the machine like an erupting volcano, oozing their way along the floor to where the Dark Cloud girls were sitting. Brittany noticed the approaching wave of foam.

“Maybe your dad should give up clothes cleaning and stick to teeth cleaning,” she said.

Breeze dashed over to the washing machine and turned it off, but the soap suds just kept on coming. They were forming a thick carpet of foam that was heading directly to where the girls had set their guitars.

“Sofia, grab the instruments and run upstairs,” Breeze said. “Brittany, get your drum pads. I'll rescue the lyrics.”

The Hoove was enjoying the scene tremendously. He hadn't planned the soap suds disaster, but it had certainly gotten the girls to stop rehearsing. Other ghosts might have just tied their guitar strings in knots or taken the batteries out of their microphone, but not him. He had style even when he wasn't trying to have style.

Just as Breeze, Brittany, and Sofia arrived in the kitchen clutching their instruments and their soggy lyrics, Mrs. Broccoli-Fielding walked in the back door. As always, she clutched a briefcase overflowing with work.

“Hi, everyone,” she called out. “What a nice surprise.”

“We're just leaving, Mom,” Breeze said. “We're going to practice at Brittany's house. And if you really want a surprise, check out the basement.”

“But before you do,” Sofia added, “put on your bathing suit.”

Mrs. Broccoli-Fielding didn't understand what was going on, but nevertheless, she cheerfully waved good-bye to the girls as they raced out the back door. Then she plopped her heavy briefcase down, kicked off her red cowboy boots, and turned her attention to Billy, Ricardo, and Ruby.

“I bet I know what's going on here,” she said with a big grin. “I saw Mr. Wallwetter in the faculty parking lot, and he told me the great news. I'm so happy to have his three SOC finalists at my kitchen table. Oh, and who made the lovely snack platter? I don't mind if I do.”

Reaching for a banana and peanut butter slice, she popped it in her mouth.

“Tell me all about your topics,” she said.

“We'd love to, Mom, but we're being invaded by a mountain of bubbles.”

“Billy, honey, what on earth are you talking about? What has gotten into you and Breeze today?”

“It will become all too clear as soon as you look in your basement,” Ricardo said. He didn't want to come right out and tell her the bad news. After all, he was talking to the principal of his school, and no one ever wants to make the principal angry for any reason.

Mrs. Broccoli-Fielding went to the basement door and looked down at the sea of bubbles steadily creeping up the stairs.

“What happened here? Who did this?”

“We don't know,” Ruby said. “Breeze and her friends were rehearsing down in the basement. Maybe they turned on the washing machine.”

“We can rule Breeze out,” Billy's mom answered. “She would never volunteer to do the wash. And Sofia and Brittany have always been the perfect guests. So who's responsible for this?”

Billy put two and two together, and it only added up to one thing. “The Hoove,” he muttered out loud before he could stop himself.

Everyone in the room turned to stare at him.

“What did you say?” they said in unison.

“Um … I said, we better
move
,” Billy answered.

“Excellent idea,” Billy's mom said. “You kids take your rehearsal into Billy's room, and I'll call the plumber. Right after I have one more of those delicious banana and peanut butter slices.”

Mrs. Broccoli-Fielding picked up the phone and called Clogged Pipes R Us Plumbing Service. She had a little trouble describing the situation to Mario the plumber because the peanut butter held her tongue to the roof of her mouth.

“I have
thuds
from the
bathement
coming up the
thairs
,” she tried to explain, as clearly as she could.

Billy, Ricardo, and Ruby quickly gathered their notes and papers from the kitchen table. On the way to his room, Billy glanced down into the basement just to see how bad it really was. To his shock, he saw the Hoove diving in and out of the suds like a dolphin in the ocean, spraying bubbles in every direction. When he scooped up a handful of bubbles and plastered them to his face, the Hoove looked like a transparent Santa Claus with no bowlful of jelly.

“Come on down,” he called to Billy. “This is a blast! Where have these bubbles been all my life?”

“All I asked was that you get the girls to stop playing!” Billy whispered to him. “Not that you make my house into one giant bubble slide.”

“You know what your problem is,” the Hoove said, doing a backstroke down the bubble-covered stairs. “In the car of fun, buddy boy, you have four flat tires.” And with that, he did a flip and disappeared into the basement that was now a foaming, frothy pool.

Ruby had already reached Billy's room, plopped herself in his desk chair, and started to organize the notes she had taken. Ricardo moved Billy's sweatshirt from the spare chair in the corner and pulled it over, while Billy perched on the edge of the desk.

“So,” Ricardo said, looking around at the walls and furniture. “Who's the pink and lavender fan? Please tell me it's not you.”

“I inherited this room,” Billy answered.

“I remember that unicorn wallpaper,” Ruby said. “I had it when I was six.”

“Listen, man,” Ricardo said, putting a friendly hand on Billy's shoulder. “A word of advice. You might want to change the color scheme before you invite the rest of the baseball team over.”

“Down to business,” Ruby said, adjusting the yellow headband in her hair, which was something she automatically did when she got serious. “We have a competition to win here, gentlemen. What should we do first?”

“I think we should do our speeches for one another and make suggestions,” Ricardo said. “That's what coach does at batting practice.”

“You go first,” Ruby said, turning to Billy, “because let's face it. Your speech is going to win this for us.”

Ruby and Ricardo settled into their chairs, waiting for Billy to begin. He just looked at them uneasily, the long silence filling the room. At last, he spoke.

“I've been thinking,” he began slowly.

“Always a dangerous move,” Ricardo said.

“Good one!” Billy laughed, a little too loudly and much too long. Ruby gave him a funny look. Ricardo's joke wasn't that funny, but Billy needed the time to formulate his next sentence.

“I've been thinking that I'm … I'm … really thirsty.”

“We just drank a ton of lemonade,” Ricardo commented. “You have a powerful thirst.”

“It's a mind reading thing,” Billy explained.

“Your brain has to be hydrated in order to … um … receive … um … you know.” That sounded lame even to him, but without waiting for an answer, he turned and bolted frantically from the room, leaving Ricardo and Ruby exchanging a perplexed look.

Billy dashed down to the basement.

“Hoove,” he called down. “You there? I need you.”

A head popped up out of the bubbles, but it wasn't the Hoove. It was a curly-haired man wearing a yellow rain slicker over a pair of rubber fishing waders. He looked like he was dressed to do a hurricane report on the news.

“Who are you?” Billy asked.

“Mario the plumber, at your service. If you're looking for a friend, there's no one down here but me.”

“Mario, you didn't happen to smell any orange juice down there, did you?”

“That's about the only thing I didn't smell, kid.”

“Just one more question,” Billy said. “Did you see anything floating through the air, like a cracker with peanut butter on it?”

“If I saw something like that down here, kid, I'd be up there with you.”

“Okay,” Billy said. “But if you suddenly smell orange juice or see something floating by, let me know right away.”

“You'll be the first person I tell, right after I call the loony bin.”

As Billy hurried back up to the kitchen, he heard Mario call after him. “Oh, and, kid, maybe you should cut back on the cartoons. I think they're putting a lot of weird ideas in that noggin of yours.”

Billy looked around the kitchen for signs of the Hoove. Nothing. He opened the screen door and checked out the backyard. Nothing. He dashed to the oak tree and looked up into the top branches.

“If you're up there, get down here immediately,” he called.

A squirrel poked his head out from behind a leaf.

“Not you,” Billy said. “Unless you can read minds.”

The Hoove was a no-show. There was only one thing left for Billy to do. He couldn't pretend to be getting a drink of water forever. He was going to have to go back to his room and tell Ricardo and Ruby that the mind reading was off and the backward alphabet was on. They'd be very disappointed, that was for sure.

With a deep sigh, Billy went back inside and headed down the hall to his room. He was definitely not looking forward to the conversation.

Billy pushed open the door of his room. Ricardo and Ruby were restlessly waiting for him.

“Dude, that was the longest drink of water in the history of drinks of water,” Ricardo said. “I thought you were out there digging a well.”

“I was preparing to tell you something really … well … let's just say … surprising,” Billy answered, choosing his words very carefully.

“Do tell,” boomed a ghostly voice. “Surprises water my melon.”

Billy looked across the room and there, draped around the ceiling light fixture like a snake, was Hoover.

“Glad you could show up,” Billy said to him.

“We've been here all along,” Ricardo answered. “You're the one who went missing on us.”

“I have to set the table in half an hour, so we don't have much time,” Ruby added. “I think we should get started.”

She took out her purple glitter pen and spiral notebook.

“I'm going to take notes while Billy does his demonstration,” she said. “I'll write down anything that needs improvement. Like if you say
um
. Mr. Wallwetter says that we have to eliminate all
um
s.”

“
Um
… good idea,” Ricardo said. They all cracked up. Even the Hoove let out a ghostly howl.

“Hey, Billy Boy,” he cackled. “Your baseball friend is funny. The Hoove's Rule Number Three. Funny is good, which is also Rule Number Six Thirty-Three, Forty-Seven, and Fifty-Eight.”

“Okay, Billy,” Ruby said. “Start anytime.”

It suddenly occurred to Billy that he wasn't sure what to get started on. He and the Hoove hadn't had time to discuss whose mind they were going to read and exactly what the trick was.

That's the trouble with a lie
, he thought to himself.
It's just so easy for things to fall apart.

“There are many ways to read a mind,” he stalled. “It's hard to pick the best one.”

Ruby and Ricardo were looking at him with great anticipation, but he had no idea how to do what he was supposed to do. He stood there frozen.

“Remain calm, Billy Boy,” the Hoove said. “I am here to take charge in my usual take charge fashion. Now, send Ricardo into the closet.”

“Ricardo,” Billy said, pretending like he had just come up with a thought. “Can I ask you to step into my closet, please? Turn on the light and close the door behind you.”

Ricardo was enjoying being part of the demonstration, so he gladly did as Billy said. Once inside the closet, he hollered out, “Okay, what's next?”

“Tell him to pick out three shirts and arrange them in any order he wants,” the Hoove commanded.

Billy repeated the Hoove's instructions. He could hear the shuffling of hangers along the wooden bar in the closet.

“Got it,” Ricardo shouted. “Can I come out now?”

“Remember the order, from right to left, that you put them in,” Billy said. By then, he had figured out the Hoove's plan and he was able to take over the instructions.

“Done and done,” Ricardo said, opening the closet door. Billy walked to the other side of the room and turned to face the wall, making it clear that he couldn't see into the closet.

“Ricardo, now I want you to sit down on the carpet,” he commanded dramatically, “and let your mind focus on the three shirts. Clear all other thoughts away and send me the order you put them in. Do not say a word. Speak only with your mind.”

“Way to go, Billy Boy. You're getting the knack of this thing,” the Hoove said. “Now it's time for me to work my magic.”

He floated across the room and shifted into his longest, thinnest shape, entering the closet through the keyhole.

“Ready when you are,” he called from inside.

Billy placed his hands on his temples and closed his eyes.

“Okay, Ricardo. I will now tell you the order of the shirts, taking this information only from your mind. I'll need you to concentrate to the fullest.”

“Listen carefully,” the Hoove called from inside the closet. “From right to left, the first one up is … Hey, I thought I told you to throw this stupid shirt away. What part of throw away did you not understand?”

Billy could feel that Ricardo and Ruby were waiting eagerly for his answer. He rubbed his temples and pretended to be receiving a signal.

“Ricardo,” he said. “You are not sending me a clear enough thought. Focus your mind and tell me which shirt is first. I repeat,” he said, directing his voice toward the ghost in the closet, “
tell me which shirt is first!
”

“Okay, okay,” the Hoove said, still muttering and fuming. “It's the one that says
I Fart … What's Your Superpower?
And this is the last time I'm telling you that you are much too cool a guy to be wearing fart joke shirts.”

Billy made a mental note to take the shirt out of his closet and put it in his bottom drawer with his other favorite fart T-shirts. He would wear it when the Hoove was out.

“The first shirt up is the green one with the …
um
…
um
… okay, I'll just say it … fart joke. I'm so sorry, Ruby. I hope I didn't offend you.”

“The only thing that bothered me was the two
um
s,” Ruby said, scribbling furiously with her pencil. “Mr. Wallwetter says that
um
s are the enemy of pace.”

“Who cares about
um
s?” Ricardo exclaimed. “Ruby, check out what this dude just did. He read my mind. That's incredible. Do it again. I'm going to focus on the other two.”

“The next two shirts are your red and white baseball jersey and a button-down collared blue shirt that would actually look really good on me,” the Hoove called.

Billy repeated what the Hoove told him, adding his own fanfare and sense of drama. All Ricardo could do was fall over on the rug in a stunned heap. Ruby put down her purple pen and stared at Billy.

“You're amazing,” she said. Billy felt like he had just hit a home run in the World Series. He imagined the entire school standing in the auditorium Monday at the competition, clapping wildly and chanting his name. At last he would overcome his fear of public speaking. At last he would be a champion at something. At last he would be accepted. He wanted to jump up and down, but instead he just sauntered across the room, trying to give the impression that mind reading was something he did every day.

The Hoove slipped through the closet door out into the bedroom. He felt pretty great himself. He hoped the Higher-Ups had taken note of how much he was helping Billy.

Ricardo sniffed the air. “Do you smell something?” he asked. “Orange juice, maybe?”

“I don't smell anything.” Billy shrugged. He had run out of made-up answers.

Ricardo and Ruby practiced their speeches next. Ricardo didn't have any carrots or raisins to make his salad, but he shredded notebook paper for the carrots and tossed in paper clips for the raisins. Halfway through Ruby's demonstration of her track warm-up techniques, the Hoove got bored and went out to the backyard to annoy the squirrels. He had a very short attention span.

“This was really a good rehearsal,” Billy said as he walked Ruby and Ricardo to the front door. “Should we do another one tomorrow?”

“I can't,” Ruby said. “It's Friday and we always have a team dinner on the last Friday of the month.”

“I'll tell you what,” Ricardo said to Billy. “Why don't you come to my house after school? We'll run through our speeches again and then maybe you can sleep over. I make a killer microwave pizza.”

Billy couldn't believe what he was hearing. You didn't just ask anyone to sleep over and eat killer microwave pizza. You only asked your friends. Did that mean he and Ricardo were friends?

“You mean sleep over all night?” he asked.

“That's the way it usually works, dude. Unless you're a vampire.”

“Sure,” Billy said. “That'd be great. I mean, it sounds fun. I mean, totally fun.”

Shut up, Billy
, he said to himself.
You sound like such a dork.

They walked down the driveway just as Bennett pulled up in a blue minivan.

“Hey, look, here comes my dentist,” Ruby said. “Quick, Billy. Check my teeth to make sure there's no food stuck in them.”

“You're good,” said Billy after Ruby flashed him her uppers and lowers. He was amazed at Ruby's complete lack of embarrassment. He could have told her there was a fried chicken wing stuck between her two front teeth and it wouldn't have fazed her one bit. She was one confident person.

“Hi, kids!” Bennett waved as he walked up the driveway. “Ruby, I hope you're keeping up on your brushing. Don't forget the gums. A healthy gum is a happy gum.”

“We were just practicing our speeches for the SOC competition on Monday,” Billy said, trying to prevent Bennett from launching into a lecture on gum disease.

“I like your tie, Dr. Fielding,” Ruby added.

Bennett Fielding was wearing a favorite from the large collection of tooth-oriented ties that he wore every day to the office. This one had a picture of a whole bunch of little teeth sitting on an ice cube. It said,
YOU MAKE MY TEETH CHATTER
.

“I hope Billy has decided to do the Floss-ORama,” Bennett said. “I think it's a sure winner, don't you?”

Billy interrupted once again, before any more could be said about the virtues of putting string between your teeth.

“Bennett, Ricardo has asked me to sleep over tomorrow. Do you think that's okay?”

“Will your parents be home?” Dr. Fielding asked Ricardo.

“Are you kidding? The whole family's always there. I can't get rid of them.”

“Well, then that sounds fine. Glad to see you boys are becoming friends. Hey, either of you two want a new toothbrush? I have a stash of them in the house.”

“That's okay,” Ruby said.

“Yeah, we have to get going,” Ricardo added.

Billy felt incredibly happy as he waved Ruby and Ricardo good-bye. Even Bennett's embarrassing behavior couldn't ruin the moment. This new school thing was working out fine, just like his mom had promised. He was in such a good mood that when Breeze hollered at him to remove the fuzzy tomato from the bathroom counter, it didn't bother him. He just waved at her and hurried down the hall to his room. Hoover sat on the bed inside, tapping his foot impatiently.

“I thought those two would never leave,” he said. “We have things to do.”

“Like what?” Billy asked.

“I'm making great plans. I found some of Bennett's old golf clubs in the garage. I'm going to make a mini-golf course for us in the backyard that we can play when you get home from school tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Billy said. “As in Friday afternoon?”

“What? Do you have trouble with the days of the week? Yes, tomorrow. Friday. As in the day after Thursday. Or the day before Saturday. Take your pick.”

“Uh, listen, Hoove,” Billy began. “About tomorrow …”

“What about tomorrow? It's going to be great. Wait until you see the water hazard I'm building. It's going to blow you away. Fifty years of watching golf on TV finally paid off.”

Billy wanted to tell the Hoove that he was busy, that he had made plans with Ricardo. But when he opened his mouth to tell him, the only thing that came out was, “Sounds great, Hoove. Can't wait.”

Oh, well
, Billy thought.
I'll tell him some other time. Like maybe never.