The Zippy Fix

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M
anly Stanley the centipede, our class pet, looked out at us from inside a jar on our teacher Mr. Purdy’s desk. He was frowning and pounding fifty of his one hundred legs on the glass. I knew what he was thinking: why were we drawing pictures of things that would love to eat him?

Hey! he seemed to shout. What’s going on out there? Let me see!

Julio, Rubin, Willy, and I were crowded around my desk working on a science poster. Our project was called Rodents of Hawaii.

We’d drawn pictures of a mouse, a rat, a guinea pig, and a gerbil. We wanted to put a hamster and a mongoose in there, too, but Mr. Purdy said hamsters were illegal in the islands. They could bring in diseases. And a mongoose is a carnivore, not a rodent.

We were stumped.

Manly Stanley raced up onto his rock and stretched his neck for a better look. “Hey, Manly,” I said. “You know of any more rodents we can draw?”

Julio snorted. “He should. Rodents love centipedes.”

Manly Stanley cringed and scurried down into the shadows.

“Look, Julio. You scared him.”

“Pfff.”

I tapped on the glass. “Don’t worry, Manly, I’ll protect you.”

“Come on, guys,” Rubin said. “We’re wasting time.”

I poked my chin with my black Sharpie. “Are moles rodents?”

“Yeah, moles!” Julio said.

“You got moles here?” Willy asked. He was from California and knew lots of stuff we didn’t. “I haven’t seen any.”

“I got a mole in my armpit,” Rubin said. “Want to see it?”

Willy laughed.

Me and Julio looked at Rubin like, Are you for real?

Rubin put up his hands. “I’m just saying.”

Mr. Purdy walked by and glanced down at our poster.

“Great work, boys. Keep going.”

We looked up and grinned. “We will, Mr. Purdy. But we can’t think of any more rodents.”

Mr. Purdy pinched his jaw. “Well now. Let’s see. Why don’t you think of yourself as a cat? What rodents might you see if you were hunting in the weeds?”

“Yeah-yeah,” Julio said. “Be a cat. That’s good, Mr. Purdy, thanks.”

Mr. Purdy winked and moved on.

Rubin bent close and mumbled, “Just don’t be a black cat, or else we might get bad luck.”

Julio scoffed. “Then I’m a black one, Rubin. Just for you.”

“Black, yellow, green, or purple,” I said. “Mr. Purdy had a good idea. So pretend you’re a cat. What do you see?”

Rubin snapped his fingers. “A mouse.”

“We already have a mouse,” I said.

“We can have two.”

Julio elbowed Rubin away from the table. “You’re not
helping
, Rubin. Go breathe your dead squid breath on Shayla or something.”

Mr. Purdy was leaning over Maya’s desk, helping her. He looked at us over his shoulder.

Julio pointed at Rubin and started to say something.

I grabbed his arm. “Don’t, Julio, you’re going to get us in trouble.”

Mr. Purdy gave us his raised-eyebrow look. He had been in the army and could really do that good, even better than Mrs.
Leonard, the principal. “Is there a problem over there, boys?”

I gave Mr. Purdy my best smile. “No, Mr. Purdy. No problem. Right, Julio?” I banged Julio’s arm.

“Just kidding,” Julio said, white teeth gleaming.

Mr. Purdy nodded and turned back to Maya.

Rubin leaned close and tapped the table with his finger. “See what I mean? You just mention black cats and you got trouble. You got to watch out. Believe it, or don’t.”

And I didn’t.

Too bad … because Rubin was right.

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