Holy Enchilada Read online

  Frankie and I whipped around to see who Ashley was looking at. Yikes! It was Ms. Adolf. She was heading our way, carrying an overripe brown banana in a napkin.

  No. This wasn’t happening.

  “Mind if I sit down next to you, Henry?” she asked.

  Did I mind? Yes, I minded! I minded with every cell in my body, especially the ones that were going to be closest to her when she did sit down.

  “Of course not,” I said, hoping that maybe I’d get lucky and she would sit down somewhere in New Jersey.

  Everyone in the cafeteria had gotten quiet and was just staring at us. It’s not natural for Ms. Adolf to cruise up to your table, throw a leg over the bench, and crank up a conversation. She’s not exactly your warm and cuddly type of teacher.

  “I’d like to talk with you about Yoshi,” Ms. Adolf said, taking a bite of her banana. I noticed that she was eating the brown spot, the very spot that normal people cut off with a knife and throw in the garbage.

  “What about him?” I asked.

  “Well, Henry, I’ve been thinking. Don’t you think Yoshi would like to see what life is like in a typical American family?”

  “My family is going to blow him away,” I said.

  Ms. Adolf looked down at the table and saw my broccoli-mushroom bagel covered with garbanzo beans.

  “I notice your mother’s cooking is not exactly ... uh ... typical,” she said, holding up the bagel, being careful to use the waxed paper it was lying on. “I wouldn’t want it to frighten Yoshi.”

  She took another bite of her rotten banana. Boy, she should talk about scary food. I could see the rotten banana squishing between her teeth. It looked like the Yellow Blob in there.

  “Zip’s family is a little unusual, but they’re totally fun,” Frankie said. “Did you know they have a pet iguana?”

  “Her name is Katherine,” I said. “She sleeps in the bathtub.”

  “An iguana in the bathtub,” Ms. Adolf said, raising her eyebrows so high, they almost shot off her forehead. “Is that good lavatory hygiene?”

  I have to confess, I’m not crazy about Katherine myself, especially when I catch her hanging out in my underwear drawer. But I sure didn’t like Ms. Adolf turning up her nose at our lavatory hygiene.

  “Wait until Yoshi meets Cheerio,” I said, trying to change the subject. “They’ll get along great. He’s the sweetest dog in the world. You’ve met him before.”

  “Oh, that dog!” Ms. Adolf said. “The one that spins in circles until he knocks someone over. You know, Henry, that’s not typical, either.”

  “It is for him,” I said.

  Frankie and Ashley cracked up, but Ms. Adolf just shook her head.

  “Yoshi would love Hank’s grandfather,” Ashley said.

  “Papa Pete is the best,” Frankie added. “He’d make Yoshi an honorary grandkid, just like Ashley and me.”

  “I’m one, too,” Robert said. “Even though Papa Pete is always complaining that I’m too skinny for him to pinch.”

  “Your grandfather, the one who eats those pickles,” Ms. Adolf said.

  “He makes them himself,” I said proudly. “Garlic dills are Papa Pete’s specialty.”

  “I hate to say this, Henry, but I don’t think Japanese people enjoy garlic dills,” said Ms. Adolf.

  “Then they haven’t lived,” I answered.

  “Henry,” Ms. Adolf said, getting close enough to me so I could see the banana gunk between her teeth. “My point is that I think we should put our best foot forward for our Japanese friends. And I’m not sure staying with your family will do that.”

  “Yoshi will have a great time at my house,” I said to Ms. Adolf. I didn’t know whether to be angry or sad, so I was both.

  “Yeah,” said Frankie. “Hank’s family is cool. And warm. At the same time. Tell her, Ashweena.”

  “They’re really thoughtful,” added Ashley.

  “Besides, America is a land of diversity,” said Robert to Ms. Adolf. “Hank’s family is diverse. Yes, indeed. Very, very, very, very diverse.”

  Ms. Adolf sighed. That shut her up once and for all. There was nothing she could say to that. She picked up her banana peel and left.

  Way to go, Robert Upchurch!!

  We all reached over and slapped Robert on the back. Unfortunately, we were too enthusiastic and sent the poor little dude flying right into his plate of fish tacos.

  CHAPTER 4

  AFTER LUNCH, while the rest of the class worked on their maps of the rivers of North America, Ms. Adolf called me to her desk.

  “Henry,” she said. “I want you to make a list of ten things you plan to do with Yoshi while he’s staying at your house.”

  “That’s a great idea, Ms. Adolf,” I said. “I’ve been thinking in my mind about all kinds of fun things we could do together.”

  “Good,” she said. “I’ll come by your desk and check your list. And remember, Henry. Spelling counts.”

  Spelling counts? “Spelling counts” has to be my least favorite sentence in the English language. By the way, do you happen to know if it is a sentence? I don’t have a clue.

  Even though Ms. Adolf knows that I have learning challenges and that spelling is nearly impossible for me, she still grades me down if I make spelling mistakes. She says she thinks students with learning differences should have to learn just like everyone else. They just need to work harder at it. Obviously, she’s never been inside my brain when it’s trying to spell. Sometimes it’s working so hard that you can almost smell the smoke. Finally, it just flops over and says, “I QUIT!”

  But I wanted to have Yoshi at my house so much that I really worked at spelling every word on that list correctly. I even looked up a bunch of words in the dictionary, which is not easy for a kid with dyslexia, which is what I have.

  At the beginning of the year, I couldn’t use the dictionary at all. But I’ve been working with our school learning therapist, Dr. Lynn Berger, after school. She taught me how to sound out some words so I can look them up. When I do find a word in the dictionary, I feel really proud.

  After I had checked every word I wasn’t sure of in the dictionary, my list looked like this:

  TEN FUN THINGS TO DO WITH YOSHI MORIMOTO

  By Hank Zipzer

  With a little help from Webster’s Dictionary

  (Okay, a lot of help)

  1. Hang out in my room and play video games.

  2. Hang out in Frankie’s room and play video games.

  3. Hang out in Ashley’s room and play video games.

  4. Watch monster movies on TV.

  5. Watch ninja movies on TV

  6. Watch old episodes of Happy Days on TV.

  7. Have a burping contest.

  8. Have a burping contest while playing video games in my room.

  9. Have a burping contest while watching Happy Days on TV.

  10. Have a knuckle-cracking contest.

  By the way, I spent almost an hour looking for the word “knuckle” in the dictionary. Did you know that there is a “k” at the beginning of that word? I swear to you, I don’t know what it’s doing there. It just sits there silently, waiting for you to start looking it up under “n.” Luckily, Frankie is a really good speller and told me about that sneaky “k” so I could find the dumb word in the dictionary. Otherwise, our knuckle-cracking contest never would have made the list.

  When I was finished with the list, I put my pencil down, sat back, and read it over. It sounded great to me. If I were Yoshi Morimoto and did everything on that list, I would go home thinking that America was the coolest, funniest country in the world.

  When Ms. Adolf came over to check my list, I thought her eyes were going to zing out of her head and bounce all over the room like pinballs.

  “Henry,” she said, her neck getting all blotchy with those red spots that show up when she’s really mad. “I hope this is a joke.”

  I didn’t know how to break the news to her that it wasn’t, so I kept my mouth shut ... tigh
t.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon rewriting that list, with Ms. Adolf breathing down my neck every second. When we were done, our new list included fun-filled, action-packed activities like these:1. Describe your favorite subject in school. (Boring!)

  2. Share three facts about your country. (Beyond boring!)

  3. Recite a poem in your native language. (Give me a break!)

  4. Draw a picture of your flag. (You’ve got to be kidding!)

  5. Do a native folk dance together. (Not in this lifetime!)

  Even though I had never met Yoshi Morimoto, I knew he couldn’t be that different from every ten-year-old I’d ever met, including me. I knew that if he ever saw that list, he would go running all the way back to Japan, even if it is an island country surrounded by water.

  CHAPTER 5

  I WAITED UNTIL AFTER DINNER to ask my parents if Yoshi could stay with us. I thought it would probably be okay with them, but you can never be totally sure when it comes to parents. There’s always the possibility that they’ll come up with some weird reason to say no—like you have to take a tango lesson with your mom, or baby-sit your sister’s iguana. Don’t laugh. I had to miss two sleepovers at Frankie’s for just those reasons.

  The minute we finished our beet soufflé and scrambled tofu with chestnuts, I jumped right up to clear the table. My rule is you can never be too helpful when you’re about to ask your parents for something important.

  “Wow,” my sister, Emily, said as I stacked the dishes all the way up my arm. “Look who’s clearing the table without even checking to see if it’s his turn.”

  “Just trying to lend a hand. Isn’t that what family is all about?” I said, flashing a big grin at my mom and dad.

  “Sounds like somebody flunked another math test,” Emily said. She’s an excellent student and has never flunked anything in all her nine years. She doesn’t have to. I do the flunking for both of us.

  “Who wants a cup of tea?” I asked.

  “Why, Hank, what a lovely idea,” my mom said.

  “Did you know they drink a lot of tea in Japan?” I asked, emphasizing the word Japan. Sometimes I surprise myself at how smooth I am. Did you like the way I just eased into the subject?

  I went into the kitchen, set the dishes in the sink, and put some water in the teapot.

  “What kind of tea does everybody want?” I called out, looking in the round blue tin where my mom keeps the tea bags. “We’ve got Almost Almond, Mostly Mint, or Relaxing Raspberry.” There were three or four other kinds of tea bags in the tin, but I didn’t offer them because their names were too hard for me to read.

  “Whatever sounds good, honey,” my mom shouted through the swinging door. “Surprise us.”

  Naturally, I picked Relaxing Raspberry. I wanted my mom and dad to be nice and relaxed when I asked them about Yoshi. How could I face Ms. Adolf if my parents said no? It would be totally embarrassing.

  When the tea was ready, I picked up the teapot and cups and pushed the swinging door to the dining room open with my butt. Suddenly, Katherine darted out from under the table. She ran right in front of me, her long tail swishing back and forth under my feet. I could feel myself starting to wobble badly. Luckily, I was able to spit out one word before my legs went completely out from under me:

  “Teapot!” I shrieked.

  My dad jumped up and grabbed the teapot from my hands. My mom snatched the cups just in time. As for me, I went flying over the iguana’s tail and landed on the carpet. I lay there, flat on my stomach, facing eye to eye with the scaly beast. Katherine just flipped her gray-green tongue out and tapped me on the nose with it.

  Emily couldn’t stop laughing. Then she noticed that I was NOT laughing. She got real serious real fast.

  “Hank, don’t you dare yell at Kathy,” she warned. “You know how upset she gets when she thinks you’re mad at her.”

  Excuse me? The iguana gets upset? I was the one who just came in for an emergency tummy landing and got licked with her sandpapery tongue!

  Ordinarily, I would have blasted Emily about her creepy, ugly, scaly, yucky lizard getting under my feet. But I was about to bring up an important subject with the parents, and this was not the time to pick a fight. So instead, I counted to five under my breath, then reached over and patted Katherine on the snout—even though what I really wanted to do was pound her into the rug.

  “Accidents happen, old girl,” I said. “I hope I didn’t hurt your cute crusty tail.”

  Emily’s jaw fell open so wide that I thought I was going to have to get a tow truck to haul it back up to her face.

  “Wow, Hank. You were so sensitive to Kathy’s feelings,” she said.

  “Hey, if a big brother can’t be nice to his sister’s iguana, then what’s the point of ...”

  I had no idea how to finish that sentence. I glanced at my parents out of the corner of my eye. My mom was smiling. She loves it when we get along. Even my dad looked up from his crossword puzzle for a second and gave me a little nod. Well, maybe little is too big to describe the nod. It was more of a slight eye twitch.

  “Here, Dad, let me pour you a cup of tea,” I said, jumping up.

  I poured some of the hot tea into his cup. Then I put my hands together in front of me, turned to him, and bowed. I poured my mom a cup of tea and bowed at her, too.

  “What’s with all the bowing?” Emily said. “Did you do a silent but deadly, or something?”

  “For your information, I am performing the Japanese tea ceremony,” I told her.

  “Well, for your information, we happen to live in New York,” Emily said. “Not Japan.”

  “I thought it would be nice to practice for when Yoshi gets here,” I said.

  “Yoshi who?” my dad asked, barely looking up from his crossword puzzle.

  “Yoshi Morimoto.”

  “Isn’t that the Japanese chef on the cooking channel?” he asked. “Why would he want to stay here?”

  “He doesn’t.”

  “But you just said he did.”

  When my dad is in the middle of doing a crossword puzzle, he only listens with one ear, which means he only gets half of the conversation right.

  “Dad, listen,” I said. “Cancel the whole Japanese chef thought. Yoshi Morimoto is a fourth-grade kid who’s coming to our school for Multi-Cultural Day. We, all of us, have been picked as his host family. He’s going to stay here for two nights later this week if it’s okay with you guys. And I just can’t imagine that you would turn down the educational experience of the century.”

  “It’s a lovely idea, honey,” my mom said, “but I’m worried about the bathroom.”

  “What’s wrong with the bathroom?” I asked.

  “It needs new wallpaper, Hank. We can’t have a visitor from another country experience our peeling wallpaper.”

  See what I mean about parents? You think you know them, then at the last minute they come up with something weird and throw you a total curveball.

  “Mom, the wallpaper is fine. We don’t have to change anything in our apartment. The whole point is for Yoshi to see how a typical American family lives. He’ll love it here.”

  “What do you think, Stan?” my mom asked my dad.

  “I could show the boy my collection of mechanical pencils,” my dad said. “I’ve got some pretty unique ones, you know.”

  “Great idea, Dad,” I said. “I’ll bet he’s never seen that many mechanicals in one place before.”

  My dad nodded. He’s very proud of his mechanical pencils, which he calls his m.p.’s. He has a whole desk drawer full of them in every color and every metal known to mankind.

  “You have to ask your sister how she feels about having a visitor, Hank,” my mom said. “It’s her house, too.”

  “I think it sounds like fun,” Emily said. “What do you think, Katherine?”

  “Wait a minute,” I complained. “Since when does the lizard get a vote?”

  “She’s a member of this family,” said Emily.
“But it’s okay, because she votes yes. Don’t you, Kathy?”

  Emily took hold of one of Katherine’s paws and raised it up in the air like she was voting. Katherine hissed. I guess iguanas aren’t big fans of democracy.

  Just then, our dog, Cheerio, who was asleep on the couch in the living room, woke up and ran over to our fireplace. He started to bark at the bricks, which is one of his hobbies when he’s not licking the bricks or chasing his tail.

  “I think Cheerio wants to vote, too,” Emily said.

  “Hey, boy,” I said as I sat down next to him. “How do you vote? Say yip if it’s yes.”

  Cheerio rolled over on his back, and I scratched him on this little white spot under his chin where he loves to be scratched. He yipped, softly, but it was a definite yip.

  “Then it’s unanimous,” my mom said. “The whole family votes yes to have Yoshi stay here.”

  I ran to my backpack and got the permission slip. My dad signed it with his red metallic mechanical pencil, and then we all hugged.

  Yoshi was coming to our house. It was a done deal. And done in Zipzer style, too. That meant two parents, two kids, one hissing iguana, and one dachshund barking at the fireplace bricks. Just your typical American family.

  CHAPTER 6

  THE NEXT DAY WAS TUESDAY, and our class spent the day preparing for Yoshi and his dad to arrive. They were coming on Wednesday morning and staying until Friday. Yoshi was going to spend Wednesday in our class and then sleep over at my house. The next day, Thursday, was the big Multi-Cultural Day celebration for the whole school. Yoshi and his dad, Mr. Morimoto, were the guests of honor. Everyone in my grade was assigned to bring in a dish from another country. We were going to put all the dishes out for a huge buffet lunch in the Multi-Purpose Room and have a celebration meal.

  In the morning, Ms. Adolf made us clean out our desks for Yoshi’s arrival. Personally, I don’t see why we had to. It’s not like they don’t have messy desks in Japan.

  When I asked her why we had to clean our desks, Ms. Adolf said, “We are putting our best foot forward, Henry.”