Who Ordered This Baby? Definitely Not Me! Read online

  She was a lot better than Emily in a lot of ways. She wouldn’t spew science facts in my direction during dinner. And she wouldn’t always point out how her grades were better than mine. And she definitely wouldn’t borrow my Mets sweatshirt and not put it back in my third drawer where it belongs.

  “Yes, Papa Pete. I want her. And I’ll take good care of her.”

  “Okay, you got it,” Papa Pete said. “One tarantula, coming right up.”

  He told George that we’d take her, and got the money out of his old brown leather wallet. While Papa Pete was paying and George was putting together the supplies for Rosa, I leaned down to her tank and took a close look at her. It was time to have my first practice session in being a big brother.

  “When I introduce you to the rest of the family,” I whispered to her, “I need you to be on your best behavior. That means no rubbing your hind legs at Dad even though he can be irritating…and no crawling out of your tank during dinner. And absolutely no scaring Cheerio, because he’s a scaredy-cat but too embarrassed to admit it.”

  I’m pretty sure Rosa was listening. At least she stopped walking around and stood very still.

  “From now on, it’s you and me, Rosa,” I said. “And remember, I’m your big brother.”

  Rosa took a step closer to the glass. I’m not going to say she smiled at me. But I can tell you that she had a very pleasant look on her little spider face. I truly believed we were communicating.

  So far, I was feeling pretty good. I liked being the guy in charge. And for the first time since I heard the news, I thought that maybe this being a big brother thing was not going to be so hard after all.

  CHAPTER 9

  Boy, was I wrong.

  I mean, what was I thinking? Where did that “not so hard” thought even come from?

  Here’s how it went. Right in the middle of introducing Rosa to my father, she flicked some of her stomach hair right in his face.

  And she didn’t even wait for dinner to crawl out of her plastic tank.

  No, she made her first appearance the next morning on the breakfast table, when she strolled out from behind the toaster, sending my mom shooting out of her shoes, down the hall, into her bedroom, and locking herself in her bathroom, putting a towel under the crack of the door to make sure Rosa didn’t come in.

  After my mom disappeared, Emily came in for breakfast, wearing Katherine on her shoulder. Old Kathy was just perched up there like always, checking out the breakfast table with her beady eyes to see whether she wanted to flick her tongue at some toast or try to lasso in an orange slice. That’s when she spied Rosa, kicking back on a slice of toast. Her beady eyes got really big, and she started to hiss like a leaky tire. But Rosa didn’t back down an inch. She started to pulsate up and down on that toast, and even let out a little hiss herself. When Katherine saw that, I thought we were going to have to send Katherine to the Hospital for Freaked-Out Iguanas. She just put her tail between her legs and curled up into a scaly little ball. Oh man, that was fun to see.

  And even though I had warned Rosa about not scaring Cheerio, she found it necessary to attach herself to his tail, so when he chased it, he got a good look at her and it scared the daylights out of him. He kept changing the direction of his circles, but everywhere he went, there she was on his tail. It was like she was on a great old-time roller coaster having her own personal amusement park ride, right in our kitchen.

  Before breakfast was even over, I had already made a list of all the many ways having a baby in the house, even if it’s a baby tarantula, can totally mess things up.

  CHAPTER 10

  TEN WAYS BABIES AND BABY TARANTULAS COMPLICATE YOUR LIFE

  As we have all just witnessed together, they do not follow directions from their big brothers.

  Even though they have arms and legs (and a tarantula has many of them), they can’t use them for anything fun like playing catch or skateboarding.

  They cause a lot of trouble and don’t laugh at any of your jokes.

  They’re always the center of attention whenever there are a lot of people in the room, even though you’re there, too.

  They can’t talk.

  They don’t know one action figure from another.

  They can’t make a snack for you when you’re watching TV and you don’t want to get up in the middle of the best part.

  They can’t take a message when someone calls you on the phone and you’re in the tub.

  They can’t change the radio station when the deejay is playing an annoying song.

  So, I ask you, why have them around? Beats me.

  CHAPTER 11

  The only good thing about my mom being pregnant that I could tell so far was that she was nauseous a lot of the time. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want my mom to feel sick or anything. But when a person is nauseous, that person doesn’t like cooking, which, in my mom’s case, is excellent news for me. I do not need one more tofu surprise with egg whites and mashed Brussels sprouts. Oh, and I forgot the mung beans that go on top. Nobody needs those.

  So dinner that night was a pizza from Harvey’s. I had eaten a slice the day before with Papa Pete, but as I like to say, you just can’t eat too much pizza. I’m sure you agree.

  We gathered around the kitchen table and opened the box from Harvey’s. Oh, no, what had my mom done? Tell me this wasn’t true. That beautiful delicious thin-crust pizza covered with cheese and tomato sauce was covered with…chunks of broccoli and purple-brownish eggplant. The broccoli was buried deep in the cheese, and the eggplant had already slimed and spread all over the pizza so you couldn’t even pull it off. My mom looked so pleased until she shot a glance over to me. She could tell by the way I was staring at this alien pizza that the vegetarian delight wouldn’t have been my first choice.

  “Mom, pizza is not something we play around with,” I said. “It’s meant to hold cheese, which is meant to hold pepperoni and sausage and meatballs and mushrooms, and maybe an occasional olive. Not broccoli.”

  “Now it’s a balanced meal, honey,” she said. “You’ve got your grains, your proteins, your fats, and now, your fruits and vegetables. The surprise is that under each piece of eggplant I asked them to hide a piece of pineapple.”

  No wonder she was nauseous. Now the whole family was going to join her.

  We all sat down at the kitchen table wondering who was going to be brave enough to take the first bite. We didn’t have to wonder long. Katherine, who was draped around Emily’s neck like a winter scarf, shot her long grey sticky tongue out to its full length and snatched a chunk of broccoli right off the pizza. It must have been hot, because instead of putting the broccoli in her mouth, she flipped it in the air and started waving her tongue above her head like a lasso. Suddenly, that pizza was looking pretty good to me. In fact, it was becoming my hero. Anything that can send Katherine into a tizzy is okay in my book.

  I had brought Rosa to the table in her little plastic tank. My mom objected at first. But I explained to her that Rosa was there to help me practice for the new baby, and we certainly weren’t going to leave the baby in another room when we had dinner. So she agreed to let Rosa stay, as long as she didn’t have to sit next to her.

  Anyway, maybe it was the iguana tongue-waving event that caused Rosa to flip out, but all of a sudden, she had crawled out from under her rock, scurried up the side of the tank, and was hanging upside down on the top of the tank’s lid, pulsating like a giant clam.

  “Hey, Emily, get your iguana to get her tongue under control,” I said. “She’s getting Rosa all shook up.”

  “Oh my goodness, Hank, you promised you’d keep that creepy-crawly creature away from me!” my mom said, bolting across the kitchen and landing in the doorjamb so she could leave at any moment.

  “You’ve got to get used to her, Mom. She’s part of the family.”

  “It’s just something about spiders that I can’t even think about,” my mom said. “I can’t handle all those legs.”

  “Don�
�t say it so loud, Mom. You’re hurting her feelings.”

  “I wish Papa Pete had checked with us before buying you a spider. It’s a big decision to bring a living thing into the family and it should’ve been a group decision.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “That’s exactly how I feel.”

  “About what?” my dad asked.

  “No one asked me if I wanted a baby brother or sister.”

  “Of course you want one, honey,” my mom said. “Think of all the fun you’ll have.”

  “Right. Being ignored by you guys because you’re busy changing diapers and teaching it the alphabet.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Hank,” my dad said. “No one’s going to ignore you.”

  “Except me,” Emily chimed in. “But then again, I already do.”

  “Okay, Dad, so when you’re on your twentieth round of playing peekaboo, where are you going to find the time to watch the Mets game with me?”

  “Maybe the baby will be a baseball fan,” my mom said.

  “Oh, I hope not,” Emily said. “I’m going to teach the baby all about how sound waves affect the insects that live in Central Park.”

  “Great, we’re going to have the first baby in history to run away from home at the age of three and a half months,” I said.

  “Hank, you’re going down the wrong path here,” my dad said. “All change is hard, but you’re being overly dramatic. Nothing is going to be taken away from you. You’re going to get everything you got before, and more!”

  If what my father was saying was true, then this was the perfect moment to bring up plans for my birthday.

  “Okay, then let’s start with my birthday party,” I said. “Last year’s was so much fun, I’d like to do it again. Remember, you took all my friends bowling at McKelty’s Rock ’N’ Bowl, then we had cheeseburgers and hot dogs and played video games. And for my birthday cake, I want that yellow one with chocolate icing from Babka’s Bakery.”

  My mom looked at my dad with a worried expression on her face. That face said “things have changed” to me. As a matter of fact, it yelled it.

  “About your party, Hank,” my dad said. “We were thinking of something different this year. Fun but quieter.”

  “‘Quiet’ and ‘birthday party’ are two words that do not go together in the same sentence, Dad.”

  “Hear me out, Hank. Since your birthday is Sunday, and it’s a school night, we were thinking of a nice dinner at home and then maybe a Scrabble challenge.”

  “Hello, Dad. It’s Hank Zipzer’s birthday. As in he-can’t-spell-pretty-much-anything-but-his-name.”

  “Okay, it doesn’t have to be Scrabble,” my dad said. “We can play charades. That’s always a fun indoor game. Frankie and Ashley will love it. They can come, too, of course.”

  “Dad, nothing personal,” I said, “but I think your body has been officially invaded by aliens who are whispering weird thoughts in your ear.”

  “I think it sounds like a very stimulating and challenging party,” Emily said.

  “Whoops, those are two more words that should never be in the same sentence with birthday party.”

  “It’s important to keep an open mind, honey,” my mom said. “About your party and about the new baby.”

  “If it’s okay with you guys, I think I’m going to go to my room and try to open my mind there.”

  “Would you like to take a slice of pizza with you, dear?” my mom asked.

  “No thanks, Mom. I think Rosa is getting dizzy from the eggplant fumes.”

  I picked up Rosa’s tank and turned to go. I wanted to be in my room, to think things over. It all seemed different. I mean, it wasn’t like my parents to plan such a lame birthday party. The only thing I could think of was that their thoughts and attention were on someone else. And I think you and I both know who that someone else was. That’s right, the diaper pooper.

  As I turned to go, Katherine shot her tongue out in Rosa’s direction. Not being an expert on iguana feelings, I couldn’t tell for sure, but I’m pretty positive it wasn’t a “welcome to the family” gesture. In fact, I think it was more of a “hey, hairy girl, I was here first” kind of tongue flick.

  I hate to say it, but I could understand how Katherine felt. I was here first, too. And now my birthday party was getting shoved aside by the new president of the Future Diaper Poopers of America.

  CHAPTER 12

  As I stomped into my room, I used my foot to slam the door behind me…hard. I wanted them to know that this was not okay with me. I mean, you don’t just tell someone they’re going to have the worst birthday party of their whole life and then go on with dinner like nothing happened.

  “This sucks, this sucks, this sucks,” I yelled, making sure to stand really close to the door so everyone in my apartment could hear. Probably everyone in the whole apartment building could hear.

  I waited for someone to come in. Maybe my mom with a comforting word. Maybe my dad with a new plan for my party. But no one came. It was me and Rosa alone in my room. Wow, if I ever needed proof that I had suddenly dropped to number three on the list of Zipzer kids, there it was. It hit me in the face like a wet noodle. Outside my door, they were knee-deep in pizza, having a great old time. And no one cared to even come in and check on how sucky things were for me.

  “So this is how it is, Rosa,” I said, putting her little tank down on my desk. “It’s you and me.”

  She climbed out from under her rock and scampered up the side of the tank facing me. As I looked at her rubbing one hairy little leg against the other, an idea hit me.

  “Who needs them?” I said to her. “I’ll give myself my own birthday party.”

  Call me crazy, but I think she understood.

  “Rosa, would you like to come?”

  Rosa rubbed one leg against the other again, and I took that as a yes.

  Okay, I was feeling better. Let them go and have that baby and be all distracted and everything. I could make myself a perfectly fine party.

  “So, Rosa, what kind of party should I throw? And don’t say anything that has to do with Spider-Man. I’ve outgrown that. My Spidey tighty whiteys don’t even fit anymore.”

  Rosa just sat there on the side of the tank. I could tell she wasn’t going to be much help in the party planning department.

  “Okay, then, I’ll call Ashley,” I said. “She’s an organizational specialist.”

  I opened the door to my room and snuck out quietly. I could hear that the pizza fest was still going on. I crept down the hall to my parents’ room, being careful to avoid certain floorboards that I knew creaked. After ten years of creeping down your own hall, you learn these things about your apartment. Like if you ever come to my apartment for a sleepover, don’t expect to hop in the bathtub right away, because it takes a long time for the hot water to make its way up the pipe from the basement to the tenth floor. Sometimes it takes so long for the water to heat up, I have to have a snack while I’m waiting.

  I got to my parents’ room and tiptoed over to the phone by the side of their bed. I dialed Ashley’s number.

  “Hey, Ashweena,” I whispered. “It’s me.”

  “Why are you whispering, Hank?” she asked.

  “Good question. I don’t know.”

  “Okay, so you’re in a weird mood. What’s up?”

  “I’m throwing myself a birthday party,” I said. “And it’s very V.I.P.”

  “What’s it going to be?” Ashley asked.

  “Good question. I don’t know.”

  “Okay, when is it going to be?”

  “Another good question. I don’t know. But can you come?”

  “Good question,” she giggled. “I don’t know.”

  “Okay, my birthday’s Sunday,” I said. “How’s that sound to you?”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Hank,” Ashley said. “I would love to come, but I have a plan this Sunday. Frankie and I are doing something.”

  “On my birthday? What could you possibly do that i
s more important than my birthday?”

  “Um…well…this is supposed to be a surprise, so don’t say anything to your mom…but we’re driving out to New Jersey to a baby outlet where we’re going to get a stroller that converts into a car seat that converts into a playpen that converts into a crib. It’s a present for the new baby.”

  For the baby! Oh man, this new baby was everywhere.

  “Fine,” I said into the phone. “Have a really great time. Don’t worry about it, because I am perfectly capable of having an amazing birthday party that will make your socks roll up and down.”

  “Hank, don’t be mad.”

  “I’m not mad, Ashley. I’m independent. And don’t worry. I’ll let you know how great my party was.”

  I hung up the phone a little too hard. I stomped back to my room, not worrying about the creaks coming from the floorboards. Let them all hear me. Let them all know I am Hank Zipzer, independent party giver and birthday celebrator. King of the party hat. Prince of cake.

  Take that, new baby.

  CHAPTER 13

  I was determined to make this the best birthday party ever, even if Rosa was going to be the only guest. As a matter of fact, this party was going to be so great that once the word got out, every kid in America would want one just like it.

  There was no decision to be made. It was going to be at Harvey’s, my favorite pizza place at the end of my block on Broadway. I’d have pepperoni pizza and maybe a few slices of yellow cake with chocolate frosting. Okay, make that one slice of cake. I’m still working out the dessert part. I’d fill Harvey’s with shiny silver Happy Birthday balloons. Oh, and maybe there’d be one silver balloon tied to my chair. And best of all, there’d be presents covering the counter, stacked so high you wouldn’t even be able to see Harvey taking the pizzas out of the oven. Well, on second thought, since I was going to be raiding my own piggy bank to buy my presents, and knowing that there was only four dollars and thirty-five cents inside, I’m sure one present would do just fine.