Chapter 3

Chapter three After school that day, Papa Pete picked up Frankie and me. Frankie's mom is a yoga instructor, and she teaches every Friday afternoon. She is so good at yoga that she can lift her foot off the floor and squeeze her nose with her toes like they're a swimmer's clip. While Frankie's mom's teaching, Papa Pete takes Frankie and me to the Crunchy Pickle. That's the deli on 77th Street and Broadway that Papa Pete used to own. Now my mom is taking it over and trying to turn it into a healthy sandwich shop. That is very bad news for salami. As we walked toward the Crunchy Pickle, Frankie and I couldn't stop talking about the

play. Actually, I did all the talking, and Frankie did all the listening. "I was in a play once when I was your age," Papa Pete said when I finally took a breath. "Were you the star?" I asked him. "Not exactly. I played a tube of toothpaste, but it was a very important tube. Harold Dunski was the star. He was lucky enough to get the part of Mr. Toothbrush." "What's so lucky about that?" I asked. "Are you kidding, Hankie?" Papa Pete said. "Harold got to sing the big opening number. It was called 'Don't Forget to Flush and Brush.' The girls went crazy. In fact, years later he married the girl who played the sink." "No offense, Papa Pete," Frankie said, "but this is kind of a disgusting story." "Well, I'm just pointing out that being in a play is a lot of fun, but it's also a lot of work. You have rehearsals to go to, lines to memorize..." "That's the part that scares me the most," I said. "I'm pretty bad at memorizing. I can't even

remember how to spell neighbor." "Don't be so hard on yourself, Hankie," Papa Pete said. "You're clever. You'll figure it out." I wasn't so sure he was right about that. We had reached the entrance to the Crunchy Pickle. Papa Pete pulled open the glass door. Frankie and I dashed to the counter that held the black-and-white cookies. They've been our favorite ever since I can remember. Just before we grabbed two, my mom came out from the back room. "Whoa there, mister," she said. "No cookies until you've had a healthy snack. I have some fresh soylami right here." My mom is trying to bring luncheon meats into the twenty-first century. She makes everything out of soy. Soylami, which tastes nothing like salami. Soystrami, which makes your tongue want to go home without eating. And the worst is soyloney, which doesn't even look like baloney. In fact, it's yellow.

"Mom!" I protested. "Frankie and I have a lot of work to do, and we need real brain food." "Look at your sister," she answered. "See how nicely she's sitting in that front booth enjoying her soy-meat platter?" My sister, Emily, who is in the first grade, does everything perfectly. It's just like her to enjoy fake meat. She also likes doing her homework, reading about lizards, clipping her toenails, and getting all As. She is so annoying. "Why don't you boys find a seat," Papa Pete said. "I'll make you a real sandwich, with some pickles on the side."

Papa Pete is just the best. He saves the day, every day. Frankie and I slid into a booth far away from Emily. We reached into our backpacks and each pulled out a copy of the play. As soon as I turned to the first page, my brain froze like a Popsicle. "I can't read this," I said to Frankie. "It's too many words." "Yes you can, Hank. Let's go very slowly." Frankie read the summary of the story. "It's about a boy named Barry who falls asleep in the library," he explained. "While he's asleep, the books come alive and jump off the shelves." "Wow, that sounds great. Does it say what kinds of books?" Frankie nodded. "The books are all the

characters the class is going to play. Look, there's a book on volcanoes." "That'd be great for Luke Whitman," I said. "His nose is always full of lava." We cracked up, and Frankie went on. "Let's see. There's a biography of Martin Luther King Jr. And a mystery story called The Secret of Big Bear Lake. Here's a scary one called My Babysitter Is a Zombie. And look at this weird one—The History of Shoes Up to the Flip-Flop. You interested in that part?" "No," I said, shaking my head. "I can't stand anything between my toes." "Oh, this book is cool," Frankie said,