Billy had a miserable night. The lack of sleep and his impending math quiz thrust him into the grumpiest mood of the century. When he brushed his teeth the next morning, he gargled with a vengeance. He didn’t even bother to change his clothes. All he did was scrub under his arms with soap without ever taking off his shirt. Slipping into his sneakers, he stomped into the kitchen, where Bennett was preparing some sunny-side-up eggs.
“Hey, Bill,” Bennett grinned. “Sit yourself down and fortify yourself for the day with a hearty meal. Nothing like Dr. Fielding’s Fabulous Fried Eggs to give your system the proper jump start.”
“Thanks but no thanks, Bennett. I’m too tired to be hungry.”
“Hey, you were warned,” Breeze said, shuffling into the kitchen in her Australian sheepskin slippers. “I told him, Dad. I said, ‘Touch my guitar, and the hand of doom will slap you silly.’”
“Well, the hand of doom didn’t have to toss me in the hall,” Billy said. “You see these eyes? See how bloodshot they are? That’s because they didn’t close for a second all night.”
“Oh really?” Breeze said, full of fake concern as she slipped into her chair at the breakfast table. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I got a great night’s sleep.”
Bennett put the plate of eggs in front of Breeze.
“You kids have to try to get along when you have conflict,” he said. “Take the human mouth, for example. It contains all kinds of teeth and yet they all work together to get the chewing done. Bicuspids, incisors, molars …”
“Enough, Dad,” Breeze interrupted. “My wisdom teeth got the point. He touched my property, he had to pay.”
“Well, there will be no more sleeping in the hall,” Bennett said. “It’s unfair, unheatlthy, and uncalled for.”
“You forgot the major un,” Billy chimed in. “Uncomfortable.”
“I think it’s safe for you to go back into your own room tonight,” Bennett said. “We’ll leave the windows open and the paint fumes should be gone by bedtime.”
“Too bad,” Breeze said to Billy. “It was nice rooming with you.”
“Wish I could say the same,” Billy answered, picking up his lunch and putting it in his backpack. He grabbed a piece of toast and headed for the door.
“If you want a lift, your mother should be leaving for school in five minutes,” Bennett offered.
“I need to walk,” Billy answered. “Maybe some fresh air will wake up my math brain cells.”
Before Bennett could get his usual “Have a great day” out of his mouth, Billy was out the door and down the stairs, crossing the backyard toward the sidewalk. On the way, he ran into Amber Brownstone, Rod Brownstone’s eight-year-old sister. She was carrying a small plastic cage with a mesh front.
“Hi, Billy,” she called out. “Want to say hello to Mr. Claws? He’s excited to meet you.”
She came running over to Billy and shoved the cage in front of his face. Billy looked inside and saw a pink, hairless creature with gray whiskers and two long front teeth that made whatever it was look like a mini beaver.
“What exactly do you call that animal, besides ugly?” he asked Amber, trying hard not to throw up at the sight of the weirdly wrinkled pink skin.
“He’s a hairless rat,” she said. “Isn’t he cute? We love each other.”
“Wow. My mom always says there’s somebody for everybody. Lucky that you and Mr. Claws found each other.”
“Do you want to hold him?”
“That would be a firm no,” Billy said as he hurried out of the backyard to the sidewalk. Amber followed close behind him.
“Do you mind if we walk to school with you?” she said. “I’m not allowed to walk by myself, and my brother doesn’t get along with Mr. Claws so he won’t walk me to school today.”
“Whatever,” Billy said. “Just make sure Mr. Claws keeps his distance.”
“Mom!” Amber yelled in a surprisingly loud voice for a little girl. “I’m going to school with Billy Broccoli. See you later.”
“Thank you, Billy,” Mrs. Brownstone called out from inside the house. “You’re such a nice boy. Just remember to look both ways before you cross the street.”
Billy stepped onto the pavement, trying not to look too closely at Mr. Claws. He wasn’t a big fan of bald animals. Once, he had a parakeet named Leo that lost all its feathers. Leo was so embarrassed about it that he constantly dive-bombed at Billy’s ear lobes. Ever since then, Billy had demanded that any animals he was around be covered in whatever nature intended them to be covered in.
“Mr. Claws is going to school with me because it’s Pet Day,” Amber rambled on. “Everyone has to share their pets and tell the class how we take care of them.”
“Did you warn them about Mr. Claws’s furless condition? Some people might be shocked,” Billy commented.
“Oh no. Everybody loves Mr. Claws. He’s very social.”
“Like how?” Billy asked. “Does he dress up for dances, or take girl rats to the movies?”
Amber laughed so hard her eyes watered.
“You’re such a silly Billy,” she said. “I wish my brother, Rod, was funny like you. All he does is report me to my parents for behavior infractions, whatever they are. He says they’re in the police codebook, which I won’t even be able to read until the fourth grade. Mr. Claws and I get really frustrated with him, don’t we, Mr. Claws?”
Billy and Amber stopped at the corner and waited for the crossing guard to hold up her WALK sign. Meanwhile, Amber chattered on … and on … and on. Billy could hardly wait for the light to turn green.
“It’s a lot of responsibility to have a pet,” she pointed out. “I mean, Mr. Claws depends on me to feed him and clean up his cage and give him water and fresh wood chips, which he uses for a comfy bed. But I like taking care of him.”
“Why?” Billy asked. Something in what she was saying was stirring his curiosity.
“Because it makes me feel good. And it makes me feel grown up. My teacher, Ms. Glockworth, says that learning to be responsible is the most important part of growing up.”
The light changed, and the crossing guard came to take them across the street. Amber rambled on, but Billy had stopped listening. Instead, he was thinking about what Amber had said. Taking care of a pet was a great way to learn responsibility. And who needed responsibility badly?
The Hoove, that’s who.
Billy smiled to himself all the rest of the way to Moorepark Middle School. He was already planning his after-school schedule. A peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich on toasted wheat. A glass of Bennett’s homemade pink lemonade. And a trip to Fur ’N Feathers Pet Store.
Billy could barely keep his eyes open all day at school. He yawned so loudly in English class that Mr. Wallwetter thought he was answering a question about semicolons. During his math quiz, he nodded off in the middle of a word problem. And in PE, when he lay down on the soccer field during halftime, he got a lecture from the coach about the importance of staying upright during the game. But by the time the final bell rang at three o’clock, he got a sudden surge of energy at the thought of implementing his new plan. He felt that he had discovered the key to helping the Hoove learn to be responsible and he couldn’t wait to put it into action — not just for the Hoove, but for himself. It was no fun living with a grounded ghost.
Billy hurried home and flew through the back door, heading straight for the peanut butter and jelly. Before he could even drop the two pieces of bread into the toaster, he felt a cold draft behind him and smelled the distinct aroma of tart orange juice. Then he heard the whistling of “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad,” which could only mean one thing. The Hoove was in the kitchen and making his presence known.
“It’s about time you got home,” Hoover snarled. “Do you know what it’s like being locked up in this house all day with just your single self?”
“I thought you’d find yourself so interesting and entertaining that the day would just fly by.”
“Even for a fascinating person such as myself, eight hours is a long time to be alone in this house, unless you’re the type of person who wants to spend your time browsing Bennett’s collection of antique tooth extracting equipment, which I am definitely not.”
Billy opened the peanut butter jar, got out a knife, and started to make his sandwich. He didn’t even cast a glance in the Hoove’s direction, which infuriated the Hoove even more.
“I’m not feeling any sympathy for my situation coming from your direction,” he snapped.
“Oh really? I didn’t hear any sympathy coming from your direction when I was trying to fall asleep in the hallway all night.”
“Apples and oranges, Billy Boy. You and I are not alike.”
“The thing about you, Hoove, is that you can’t see anyone else’s problems, you only see your own. That’s why it’s so hard for you to be responsible to other people. But I have a fix for that.”
“Don’t you think you should discuss it with me, your life coach?”
“No. You don’t have a choice about this. I have to get you ungrounded. Not just for you, but for me, too. And I think I know the perfect way to do it.”
“So what do you have in mind?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Billy said, slapping the jelly-covered bread slice on top of the peanut butter slice. As he grabbed his sandwich and shot out the back door, the Hoove tried to follow him, but bumped smack into another invisible barrier.
“Whatever you got up your sleeve, you better pull it out fast,” he yelled to Billy. “Because I cannot take one more minute of this.”
In his frustration, the Hoove picked up a patio chair and tossed it onto the lawn.
“You can’t break my spirit,” he shouted up to the sky. “There’s not a wall in the world that can contain Hoover Porterhouse the Third.”
Suddenly, a black cloud appeared overhead and shot a bolt of lightning so close to his feet that he could feel its heat.
“I was just joking,” he hollered to the Higher-Ups. “You guys have no sense of humor.”
Another bolt of lightning shot out of the sky and burned the word enough into the grass. If Hoover Porterhouse needed proof that those Higher-Ups weren’t kidding, this was certainly it.