Chapter 19
Mark’s Plan Takes Shape
“Let’s see . . .” Grandpa Murray rubbed his hands together and lifted his eyebrows a few times. He eyed the fruit aisle.
Mark mimicked Grandpa Murray’s motion. “Yes, let’s see . . .” he said before letting out a sinister laugh. When Grandpa Murray offered to do the grocery shopping, Mark had turned off the television, jumped up, and volunteered to go with him. He told his mom that he just wanted to help out, but really he wanted to go because Grandpa Murray was great to food-shop with. He’d put anything Mark asked for in the cart. In fact, he’d put anything at all in the cart as long as it looked tasty or interesting—beef jerky, sixteen-inch king crab legs, freeze-dried enchiladas, sugarcoated cheese curls covered in chocolate. One time he bought a box of cat food because the box boasted a large gold medal from Cat Care magazine, even though the Hoppers didn’t have a cat. Mrs. Hopper must have suspected Mark’s reason for wanting to go along—he never “wanted to help out” when she went to the supermarket—so she sent Beth along to keep the other two in line.
“Why don’t we split up this list by category,” Beth said, scanning the long list of mostly boring, healthy foods her mother had insisted they follow, “and meet up at the register with the shortest line in twenty minutes.”
“Bah,” said Grandpa Murray. “I’ll never remember what I’m supposed to get or where to meet. But I guess if you don’t want to”—Grandpa Murray let out a loud, fake sniffle—“spend time with your grandfather, who only wants to”—sniff—“love you, then that’s”—sniff—“just fine.”
Mark sniffed loudly. “I’ll stay with you, Grandpa! Don’t cry.”
“What about you, Beth?” Grandpa Murray said with a large frown.
Beth looked around and rolled her eyes. “Yes, okay, we’ll all stay together.”
“Yippee!” Grandpa Murray said.
Beth looked around again. “You’re embarrassing me,” she whispered. “Let’s just start shopping.”
“Does this embarrass you?” Mark asked. He picked up a bunch of grapes and balanced it on his head while humming circus music.
“Yes, it does,” Beth said. She grabbed the grapes, threw them in a plastic bag, and put them in the cart. “And now we have to buy those because they were on your head.”
“Does this embarrass you?” Mark asked. He reached toward a pile of cantaloupes.
Beth moved to block him. “Whatever you were going to do, yes, it does,” she said. “And I don’t want to have to buy cantaloupe.”
“How about kiwis?” Grandpa Murray asked. He held up a couple of hairy brown fruits.
“Not on the list . . .” Beth said.
Grandpa Murray placed the kiwis in the cart. “List schmist,” he said.
“How about this?” Mark asked. He held up a big, whole pineapple.
“I don’t know how we’re going to cut that,” Grandpa Murray said, “but why not. I’m a sucker for fruit with spikes on it.”
Beth laughed and put the list in her pocket. She picked up a two-pound mesh bag of strangely shaped objects that was labeled IMPORTED. “Can we get this?” she asked.
Grandpa Murray said, “That’s the spirit!” He signaled for her to put it in the cart.
They continued through the supermarket filling up the shopping cart with everything unusual or intriguing they passed, plus lettuce for Beth’s earthworms and most of the items Leslie Hopper had requested. Mark studied Grandpa Murray as he moved through the aisles picking up items and squinting sharply to examine them. He was almost ready to redraw his portrait of Grandpa Murray on canvas and begin painting. He wanted to make sure he got every detail right and that he captured the whole of his grandpa’s character. It would be best to work on the portrait in the same room as his grandpa so that he could look at him as he went along, but he wanted the painting to be a surprise. Maybe even a birthday present.
“Grandpa?” Mark said as he placed a package of string cheese into the cart. “When is your birthday?”
“November thirty-second,” Grandpa Murray said.
“Really?”
“I think so.”
“Come on, Mark,” Beth said. She bopped him on the head with a package of cheese cubes. “There is no November thirty-second. There’s not even a November thirty-first.”
Mark thought a moment. “Hey! No month has a thirty-second.”
Grandpa Murray thought a moment. “No?” he said. “I guess that makes my birthday December second.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Mark tried to hide his excitement by comparing wild cherry with exotic berry yogurt. December 2 was perfect timing. Even though the painting was due toward the end of October, he had just found out that the selected portraits would be displayed in the library starting on December 2! Then he would just have to figure out a way to get Grandpa Murray to go with him to library—he’d have to make something up, which might be kind of tricky, but he had time—and he could show him the portrait right on his birthday. What a present that would be!
“The gears in your head are spinning,” Grandpa Murray said. “What are you planning on doing with that yogurt?”
Mark shrugged and placed a container of exotic berry yogurt in the cart. “Oh, nothing,” he said. “I’m just thinking that I have a really, really good birthday present for you.”
Grandpa Murray raised his eyebrows. “I do like yogurt,” Grandpa Murray said, “but this might go bad by December.”
Mark laughed and said that the gift wasn’t yogurt, but he wouldn’t give away any other clues. The three shoppers turned into the snacks aisle, and Mark’s eyes became round at the sight of all of the cookies, cakes, and treats that Grandpa Murray would probably let them buy.
“You’re Mark, right?”
Mark turned to see a girl his age. She had long blond hair in a long blond ponytail, and her T-shirt said IVY ROAD ROADRUNNERS with a picture of the school’s mascot in the center. “Yeah,” Mark said. “Is that shirt from Ivy Road Middle School?” he asked. Then he felt his ears turn red as he realized what a stupid question it was.
“Yep,” said the girl. She started chewing on one of her fingernails. “You’re in sixth grade, right? And you’re friends with Jasmina, right?”
“Yeah,” Mark said. At least he thought they were friends. He hoped this girl wouldn’t ask Jasmina. Maybe she didn’t really consider them friends. He had never been to her house after school or anything. At least he knew he was definitely in sixth grade . . . right?
“I’m Laurie,” the girl said.
Mark tried to think of a question to ask her or anything to say that wouldn’t sound stupid. Luckily, since the best he could come with was “So, you’re food shopping,” a woman toward the end of the aisle called Laurie over.
“That’s my mom,” Laurie said. “But maybe I’ll see you around school. And,” she continued, “my birthday’s coming up, and I’m having a big party at my house. So what’s your last name so I can give you an invitation?”
“Hopper,” Mark said, his ears turning even redder.
“Mark Hopper. Got it.” She smiled. “See you around!”
“Yeah.” Mark turned to face Grandpa Murray and Beth, who were both grinning. Beth tousled his hair, and Mark smoothed it back down.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Beth teased. “Does that embarrass you?”
“No,” Mark lied.
“What if I talked about all of the earthworms we have at home really loudly? Would that embarrass you?”
“Beth,” Mark warned.
“How about this, does this embarrass you?” Beth asked. She grabbed two long, thin packages of cookies and held them above her head like antlers.
“Grandpa!” Mark hissed. He glanced down the aisle to make sure Laurie and her mother had gone.
“Come on now, Beth,” Grandpa Murray said. “Enough teasing your brother.” He held out his hands.
“All right,” Beth agreed, grinning. She gave Grandpa Murray the boxes of cookies and tousled Mark’s hair again. “But really,” she said, “I’m glad you’re making friends. She seems really nice.”
“Beth!” Mark said.
“What?” Beth laughed. “I just said she seems nice.”
Grandpa Murray put the cookies on his own head like antlers. “Hello, Beth and Mark,” he said in a robotic voice. “I have come from another planet.”
Beth and Mark both scrambled to remove the boxes from their grandfather’s head. They looked at each other and walked as far away from him as they could.