Dancing Dudes Read online

  “You’d better stop that,” Grandma called after Gramps. “You shouldn’t be doing that with your bad hips.” She chased him around the room trying to catch him.

  “Well, I’ve never danced before, and I don’t think I want to try with Lizzy,” I said.

  “You’ll see, partner,” Gramps said, “you’ll love it.” He kept hopping and dancing right out of the room and into the kitchen. I followed him in and sat down in my chair.

  All of that dancing must have tired Gramps out, because he finally grabbed the chair right next to me and just kind of fell into it. He was breathing hard.

  “Whew . . . Don’t get old, partner,” he said, patting me on my knee.

  “I’ll try not to,” I replied. I was hoping he was just resting and would get up and sit somewhere else. But no such luck. He picked up the paper napkin in front of him, opened it, and stuck in his collar like a bib. This meant business.

  I love Gramps and all. And it’s not just that he takes food off of my plate. But whenever Gramps comes over, I get kinda sick watching him eat. Mom says I’m rude for feeling that way, but I can’t help it. He shovels so much food in his mouth at a time. And he doesn’t even finish what’s in his mouth before he shoves more in there. There are always bits of chewed-up food falling out of his mouth when he opens it to put more in. It’s disgusting! And even when I try not to watch him, I can still hear him. When he opens his mouth to load up, he makes this wheezing noise, like a broken vacuum. And then when he starts chewing, he makes this sick groaning noise with his voice.

  Then a brilliant idea popped into my brain. Grandma sat down in a chair at the other end of the table. “Hey, Gramps, don’t you want to sit by your lovely wife?”

  “Nah, I sit by her every day. I’m taking a break,” he said, laughing. He laughed until he started coughing. Mom patted him on the back. “And besides,” he said, “this seat is closer to the bathroom, in case I need a quick getaway, if you know what I mean.” He smiled at me and winked, like I knew what he meant. I didn’t really know what he meant, but it didn’t sound very good.

  We were having pork chops, mashed potatoes, peas, and salad. As we passed the food around the table, there was nothing that Gramps didn’t put on his plate. Even when there wasn’t room for any more, he just piled it on top of his other food. I could tell this was going to be ugly.

  Everyone dug in. In no time at all, the wheezing, sucking sound and the groaning began. My appetite was gone and I couldn’t even eat a bite.

  “Eat your food, Raymond,” Dad said.

  “I’m not that hungry. And I really don’t like peas.”

  “Hey, partner,” Gramps said. “Try your grandpa’s old trick.”

  I looked over at his plate. He was smashing all of his peas into his mashed potatoes until it was a light green gooey mess. I felt queasy just looking at it and thought I might even puke. Then Gramps did something that put me over the edge. After taking a bite of his green potato-and-pea mixture, he pulled his fork out of his mouth. It still had some of the potato goo and a little piece of pork chop dangling from it. Then the fork headed toward my plate.

  “I’ll help you get rid of a few of these,” Gramps said, sticking that nasty fork into my peas and scooping up a pile. He leaned over my plate and shoved the fork into his mouth so he wouldn’t lose any peas. Unfortunately, one of the peas fell from either the fork or his mouth onto my potatoes. It was more than I could handle.

  “Excuse me please!” I yelled, pushing my chair back and running into the bathroom. I stayed there for a long time. After a while, my mom knocked on the door.

  “Raymond, are you all right in there?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. “It’s just that . . . well, Gramps . . .”

  “I know, sweetie,” she interrupted. “I saw him.”

  I opened the door and asked her if I had to finish my dinner.

  “No, not tonight,” she answered. “I’ll make you up a new plate and put it in the refrigerator in case you want it later.”

  I went to my room. I hoped I didn’t make Gramps feel bad, but I figured he was probably happy just finishing the rest of my dinner.

  6

  Closed for Cleaning

  THE NEXT MORNING I woke up starving. Mom made heart-shaped pancakes and hot chocolate for breakfast to celebrate Valentine’s Day. I ate tons of pancakes and drank four big cups of hot chocolate. So far things were going great. I finished breakfast, put my bag of valentines in my backpack, and ran out the door.

  Graham came out of his house with a big smile on his face and a plastic grocery bag full of valentines.

  “Why don’t you carry them in your backpack?” I asked.

  “I am carrying them in my backpack. These are just more valentines that didn’t fit,” Graham said, holding up his backpack to show me how full it was. “After you left the other day, I decided to make a few extra valentines for Kelly. I didn’t sign them. I want to see if she can figure out it’s me.”

  “How many extra did you make?”

  “I don’t know, about twenty,” Graham said.

  “Whoa, isn’t that a little too much?” I asked.

  “Listen, Raymond. Take it from your manly coach,” Graham said. “You can never do too much for your girlfriend. You can’t talk to her too much, wave at her too much, and there is no way on the planet you can give her too many valentines. Remember that. It’s rule number four.”

  “Right,” I said. “Thanks again for being my coach. I don’t know what I would do without your help.”

  “Don’t mention it, hermano. That’s what friends—and manly coaches—are for.”

  We walked as fast as we could to get to school early. Our class Valentine’s Day party would be in the afternoon, but Graham wanted to put the extra valentines he made for Kelly in her box without anyone seeing.

  Luckily, we got there before the other kids. The door was open, but Mrs. Gibson must have been in the office or somewhere else. All of the valentine boxes were on the back tables. “Okay, you stand by the door and watch for Kelly—I don’t want her to see me. We need a code word or something. If she comes in, yell out, ‘Underwear!’”

  “Underwear?” I said.

  “Yeah, underwear,” Graham said. Then he headed back to the boxes. He looked around for a while and then called back. “Hey, which one is Kelly’s? I don’t see her name on any of these.”

  “It’s in the middle with all of the really good hearts on it. You can’t miss it,” I said. “She wrote her name in hearts.”

  I looked down the hall to make sure Kelly wasn’t coming. I didn’t want to yell “Underwear!” if I could avoid it. A few people started coming through the door, but no sign of Kelly. Heidi and Diane came in talking.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Raymond,” Heidi said, smiling.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too, Heidi,” I said back. I tried to follow manly rule number four and come up with something funny or clever to say to her, but I couldn’t think of anything. As I stood there trying to be manly and talk to Heidi, I must have forgotten to look for Kelly, because all of a sudden I noticed Kelly was already in the classroom.

  “Underwear, underwear!” I yelled. “UNDERWEAR! ”

  Heidi, Diane, and everyone else in the class turned to see why I was screaming “Underwear.” I just stood there with a blank look on my face, trying to pretend that nothing had happened. Everyone started laughing.

  That wasn’t funny or clever, I thought to myself. And definitely not manly. Just then Lizzy spotted Mrs. Gibson walking down the hall.

  “Mrs. Gibson, Mrs. Gibson, Raymond just yelled ‘Underwear’ for no good reason,” Lizzy tattled, running out to meet our teacher.

  “Not now, Lizzy,” Mrs. Gibson answered, passing her and entering our class. Lizzy stormed back into the room and gave me a mean glare.

  “Okay, let’s get started,” Mrs. Gibson said. She was wearing a necklace made of big red, white, and pink hearts. “Is everyone having
a happy Valentine’s Day so far?”

  “No,” David blurted out.

  Mrs. Gibson must have been in a good mood, because she didn’t get mad at David. Instead she said, “Then we’ll just have to make sure your day gets better, won’t we?”

  “I am!” Lizzy blurted out. “I’m having a great day. By the way, that necklace is very beautiful. It goes well with your . . . hair.”

  It goes well with gray hair? I thought to myself. Lizzy is such a weirdo.

  “Thank you, Lizzy,” Mrs. Gibson said. “I hope you all brought your valentines. We’ll deliver them to the boxes this afternoon at our party. But first, we need to get through all of our work.”

  Suddenly, as Mrs. Gibson was talking, I realized drinking four cups of hot chocolate this morning might not have been a good idea. I had to go to the bathroom . . . and bad. I looked at the clock. We still had an hour and a half until recess. There was no way I could wait that long. I raised my hand.

  “Yes, Raymond,” Mrs. Gibson said.

  “May I use the restroom?” I asked, squirming around in my chair.

  “Fine, but hurry back.”

  I jumped up and ran out the door. “Walk, please,” I heard Mrs. Gibson calling from the classroom. I slowed down to a fast walk. But as soon as I turned the corner I started to run again. I ran as fast as I could. When I tried to push the bathroom door open, I bounced back and fell to the floor.

  Huh, how can this be locked? I thought. A little stand-up sign stood on the floor in front of the door. CLOSED FOR CLEANING, it said. I must have run right past it. I knocked on the door, but no one answered. I needed to get in there. There was no way I would make it down to the bathrooms at the other end of the school. The kindergarten class had bathrooms in it, but I wasn’t going to burst into the kindergarten class to use their bathroom. I jumped around like crazy in the hall, waiting for the janitor to come back. If I couldn’t get into the bathroom quick, I was going to have a serious accident.

  After what seemed like forever, I had an idea. I couldn’t believe I was even considering this, but it was the only thing left: the girls’ bathroom. I had never set foot inside the girls’ bathroom, and I’m sure if Graham were here he’d say, “Manly rule number five: Never go inside a girls’ bathroom.” But this was an emergency. I took one last look both ways down the hall and then burst through the door. It was pink instead of blue like the boys’ bathroom. But that didn’t matter at this point. I finished my business, washed my hands, and strolled back out the door.

  “What are you doing, Raymond?” I heard a familiar voice say. It was Heidi. “Are you using the pink bathroom because it’s Valentine’s Day?” She laughed. “Isn’t that going a little too far to celebrate a holiday?”

  “No . . . I . . . I just went in there . . . I mean, I had to use the girls’ because the boys’ bathroom is closed for cleaning. See?” I said, pointing to the sign in front of the door. Only now the sign was gone. “Wait, it was here a minute ago,” I said. I pushed on the door, which was open now, too.

  “Sure,” she said. “Your secret’s safe with me.” Then she walked into the girls’ bathroom, and I turned and went back to class. I thought about how this day was not turning out so manly. I mean, right in the middle of talking to her, I yell out “Underwear!” and then she sees me coming out of the girls’ bathroom. I hoped my poem to her would make up for all of this unmanliness.

  It seemed like the afternoon would never come. You could tell everyone was excited for our Valentine’s Day party. Nobody could sit still.

  Finally, it was time. “All right, students, while I am setting up for our party, why don’t you get your valentines from your backpacks and deliver them to each box,” Mrs. Gibson said.

  Everyone jumped up and ran to their backpacks. For the next few minutes we all bunched around the boxes in the back of the room, stuffing valentines into the small slots cut into the tops of the decorated boxes. Mrs. Gibson even had a box on her desk. A huge valentine was next to her box that must have been too big to fit inside. I took a closer look to see who it was from. Happy Valentine’s Day to the best teacher in the world, from your favorite student, Lizzy, it read on the front of the big heart.

  After we finished our valentine deliveries, Lizzy’s mom came in to help out. She’d brought a big box of cupcakes. Graham and I ran over to her to get the first ones. But just as we both reached for a cupcake, she pulled the box away.

  “Not so fast,” she said. “The first one goes to your wonderful teacher.” She flipped her hair around, walked over, and handed Mrs. Gibson the cupcake. I couldn’t believe it. She was a teacher’s pet just like Lizzy. She even had that same crinkled-up look on her face. Graham and I grabbed the next two cupcakes and went back to check on our boxes.

  “Okay, kids,” Mrs. Gibson said when the bell rang, “have a wonderful Valentine’s Day. Please do not open your valentines in the school . . . wait until you get home.” We all raced to the back and grabbed our boxes. Mine felt really heavy.

  Graham and I went to his house to open our valentines together. We sat down in the middle of his room. “Okay, Raymond,” Graham started, “the only rule is that you can’t keep anything a secret. If you get something interesting from anyone, you have to tell.”

  “That works for me,” I said. I never get anything interesting anyway. Neither does Graham, for that matter. But for some reason, he thought this year was going to be different.

  “Okay, here’s my first one,” I said, opening the first valentine I pulled out of my box. “Have a Happy Valentines or I’ll punch you, From ? . . . P.S. I’m going to punch you tomorrow anyway.” I could tell from the handwriting and from the punching that it was from David.

  “Well, that one wasn’t so good,” I said, reaching for another.

  “How about this?” Graham said. “It’s from Eden. It just says, To Graham, From Eden.”

  “That’s pretty boring,” I said.

  “But wait, look what it says on the candy hearts in the envelope,” he said, dumping three colored candies into his hand. “This one says Be Mine and this pink one says Your Girl and, whoa—this one says Hot Stuff! Do you think Eden likes me? I mean, she obviously thinks I’m hot stuff.”

  “Are you serious? Those hearts all say stuff like that. I never read them, I just grab a few and drop them in the envelope.”

  “Not me,” Graham said. “I read each one and carefully choose which goes in each valentine. I’ll bet everyone does that except you.” He looked at me like I was a moron.

  “Wow, listen to this,” I said. “This one says I’m cute!”

  “What? Who’s it from?” Graham yelled. He looked a little mad that I got that one instead of him.

  “I don’t know, it just says, From ? ” I said, trying to examine the handwriting. It didn’t look like Heidi’s. Actually, the handwriting was really bad. “Maybe whoever it was tried to disguise their writing so I wouldn’t be able to figure out who they were.”

  Graham dug through his box faster and faster. “I’ve got to find Kelly’s,” he said, ripping open envelopes.

  “Oh my gosh!” I said. “Here’s another one. It says my eyes are beautiful. Wow, I never thought I had beautiful eyes, but I guess someone thinks I do.” This was turning out to be the best Valentine’s Day ever. I tore open another, wondering if I had more secret admirers.

  “Whoa, this one stinks like perfume or something,” I said, waving my hand in front of my nose.

  “Give me that, Raymond,” Graham said, grabbing the valentine from me. “What did you say that last one said?”

  “You mean the one that says I have beautiful eyes? ”

  “Yeah, that one. Let me see it.”

  “It’s in that pile,” I said, pointing to the pile of papers and valentines. I opened another one while he sorted through my opened valentines.

  “No way,” I said. “Here’s another: Your lips are so shapely. I have shapely lips? What does that mean?”

  “Okay, give me tha
t one, too,” Graham yelled, grabbing the valentine. “I thought you said Kelly’s valentine box was the one with the perfect hearts on it!” He grabbed my box. “Look at your box, Raymond: ten perfect hearts. Ten!”

  “So what? What are you saying?” I said, pulling my box out of his hands.

  “I’m saying I put all the extra valentines I made for Kelly in your box!” he shouted, looking sad and angry.

  “Oh, no!” I said. “I forgot Kelly gave me a handful of hearts for my box. The hearts I cut out looked like eggs, so she gave me her extras. But didn’t you see her name on her box? I told you it was spelled out in little hearts.”

  “No, I just saw this big K on the front and thought it stood for Kelly,” Graham said.

  “That’s an R for Raymond,” I said. I copied her idea. Although, as I looked at it again, it did kind of look like a K.

  “Well, that’s just great!” Graham said, waving a handful of valentines in the air. “Now Kelly isn’t going to have any valentines from me! She’ll think I don’t like her at all.”

  “So does this mean my lips aren’t shapely?” I said, trying to make Graham laugh. But I couldn’t even get a grin out of him.

  “Come on,” I said. “We can fix it. Let’s gather up all of these valentines you wrote to Kelly and bring them to her house. We’ll ring the doorbell and run. . . . It’ll be fun.”

  Graham’s face broke out into a smile. “Great idea! It’s more personal that way.” He picked up the valentines and we headed for the front door.

  “Hey, Mom, I’m going outside with Raymond,” he yelled.

  “Be back before dinner,” she called back from somewhere in the house.

  Kelly’s house was about three blocks away. When we got there, we looked around and made our plan.

  “Okay,” Graham said, “you set the valentines in front of the door. After I ring the doorbell, we’ll run over there behind those bushes by the street. From there we can see her open the door.”

  We crept up to the door. I set the valentines down while Graham rang the bell. I was setting them up in a nice, neat pile when all of a sudden I heard the bell ring. I tried to stand up, but Graham ran right over me and tripped. He fell on top of me and we both struggled to get up. I pushed Graham off of me, made it to my feet, and ran like crazy. Unfortunately, before Graham could get up, the door opened. I could see it was Kelly. Graham finally jumped up and started running.