Told by Pearl Summers
I was minding my own business, walking my teacup poodle, Juliette, down Browning Street when I heard the blood-curdling scream. Imagine a violin being put through a blender set to liquefy. Not even the heavy bass line of “Get Down, Get Funky,” which I was listening to on my wireless headphones, could begin to drown it out.
“Come here, muffin.”
Even though Juliette had just found the perfect spot to tinkle, I scooped her up off the grass and held her tightly to my chest as I looked left and right. The source of the scream wasn’t obvious at first. There was also nobody else on the street to have heard it. If someone needed rescuing, it was going to be up to me.
And that was when I noticed the suspicious white van in the driveway of Shady Cook’s house.
To be clear, I’m not friends with Shady. I used to be, but that was a long time ago. When we were little, our moms met up most days at Forest Hill Park and walked around the edges in fast circles, swinging their arms. Some kind of fitness thing. Shady and I spent a lot time together in the sandbox, so it was impossible not to become friends, what with all the digging holes to China and selling pretend pancakes to passersby that we did.
For a while we were tight. We had a joint birthday party at the Build-A-Bear place. There were family barbecues in each other’s backyards. One time our families rented a beach house together. There’s a photo of us toasting marshmallows by the campfire in matching polar bear pajamas.
But that was before we started school at Carleton Elementary, when he stopped talking and became Shady. His real name’s David. Shady is a nickname our kindergarten teacher, Mr. Parker, gave him because he liked to wear sunglasses everywhere, even inside.
After that, things changed. I mean, it’s not easy being friends with a person who never talks. Our families still got together for barbecues, but how many times can you play charades with someone when you’re the only one guessing, or Go Fish with someone who won’t say “go fish”?
But just because we’re not friends anymore doesn’t mean I want anything tragic to happen to Shady. Obviously!
I took my headphones off. Still holding Juliette tight, I watched as a man in a blue prison jumpsuit got out of the white van in Shady’s driveway and slammed the door behind him.
Juliette sensed danger. She twisted in my arms and looked straight at the man, growling low in her throat like a cell phone set to vibrate. My teacup poodle might be teddy-bear soft and small enough to fit inside a medium-size cereal bowl, but she’s got killer instincts.
I ducked behind a shrub in the yard next door and watched as the guy raised his arms to stretch out a kink in his back, revealing a tattoo of a bloodred rose on his wrist. He yawned loudly, like the life of crime was wearing him out, then started to climb Shady’s stairs. He knocked and waited, but there was no answer. Was he checking to make sure no one was home? It seemed likely because a few seconds later, he shrugged, then tried the knob.
My entire body tensed as he stepped inside.
Don’t ask me how, but I knew: it was the Banana Bandit—the weird guy who’d been disguising himself as a gorilla and snatching old ladies’ purses. Sure, the man wasn’t wearing his gorilla suit—but that didn’t mean much. He must have gotten caught. The police probably confiscated the suit when they put him in jail. Obviously, he’d escaped, and now he was on the run, looking for places to hide and houses to rob. Why had he picked Shady’s place? Who knew! I mean, why did he throw bananas at old ladies? The guy was a nutjob.
Then I had an even more sickening thought. Shady’s parents’ cars weren’t in the driveway. Did that mean he was home alone? If he was, would he even be able to call the police? Could Shady scream for help? Maybe…I reasoned…if he was terrified enough.
Either way, a break-in would be too much for a kid like Shady to handle. Friends or not, if I didn’t step in, I knew he was doomed.
The front door slammed shut behind the bandit. I had to act fast. I could already picture the newspaper headlines: “Brave Nine-Year-Old Girl Saves Neighbor in Distress.” Or maybe: “Banana Bandit Captured by Gutsy Girl and Plucky Poodle.” It wasn’t my main motivation—obviously—but it was going to look nice in my scrapbook. Or maybe framed in the hallway.
“Come on, Juliette,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt for her sake.
I ran across the lawn and pushed Shady’s door open, hoping to gain the element of surprise.
That part worked.
“Ow! Watch it, would ya?” the bandit roared as the door hit him in the back.
“Quick! Close the door! Don’t let him get out!”
It was Shady’s sister, Amanda—or Manda, for short. She used to babysit me sometimes: we’d play ponies, and she’d French braid my hair and let me try on her jewelry. But now that she was in high school she’d gone goth, with black eyeliner, black clothes, and ugly army boots. Not only was she older than me, but she looked way scarier. I don’t know why she expected me to be the one to stop the bandit, but again, I acted out of selfless instinct.
“Turn yourself in!” I yelled at the Banana Bandit in my loudest voice. “Or I’ll sic my dog on you!”
The guy looked at Juliette and laughed! Talk about rude!
“Not him!” Manda said. “Him!” She pointed at the floor.
Shady was there, crawling along after a duckling who seemed to be making a break for it. Just before Shady could wrap his hands around the little duck, it swerved left after a big, black ant it was chasing.
“Calm down, okay? You’re all freaking him out!”
It was Pouya. Shady’s best/only friend—and the other big reason I will never hang out with Shady Cook again. The word annoying doesn’t even begin to describe Pouya Fard. I have to sit behind him in class, so I’d know. He’s always making weird clicking noises with his mouth or backing his chair into my desk on purpose while yelling “Earthquake!” Once, I watched him eat a booger. A big, gooey one.
Also, if you can believe this, when he started at our school back in kindergarten, he didn’t know how to climb stairs. He scooched up and down on his butt to get to the library. Mr. Parker said it was because they didn’t have stairs in the refugee camp where he’d been living, so he was still learning, but seriously, it’s not that hard! I’m ninety percent sure he was only doing it for attention, which is why he does everything.
And then there’s his name. If your name was Pouya Fard, wouldn’t you at least try to change it? I mean, hello! Someone is going to call you Poo Fart.
Oh, and did I mention that he’s rude? For example, at that moment, he said, “What are you doing here?” and made a ghoul face at me. Shady—his number one fan—giggled silently before going back to duckling chasing.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance to point out that it wasn’t Pouya’s house, and he didn’t have the right to ask me that—because Juliette caught sight of the duckling.
Ruuuuuf. Ruuuuuf. Ruf. Ruf, ruf, ruf.
My dog has a thing for ducks. It’s why we can’t walk her near the ravine anymore. Her whole body started to twist like a boiling noodle. Before I knew it, she’d wriggled out of my arms and launched herself through the air.
Ruf. Ruf, ruf, ruf.
Wak. WAK, WAK, WAK!
The duckling’s webbed feet floundered against the shiny tile floor, and if it wasn’t for the fact that it started flapping its wings and getting some lift, it would have been a duck-flavored dog treat for sure.
“Juliette!” I called. “Stop.” But even though she’d won “best behaved” in her puppy class, all her training went straight out the window. She growled, then she lunged.
Shady only just managed to swoop in to grab the duckling in time. For once, he wasn’t wearing his dumb mirrored sunglasses, and he glared out at me from under his floppy hair.
“Get your stupid dog out of here, Pearl,” Pouya yelled. As if by selflessly trying to stop a robbery in progress, I was the one who’d done something wrong. Like I could have known in a million thousand years that there would randomly be a baby duck in Shady’s house!
Well, fine! If I wasn’t needed or appreciated! I picked up the yapping Juliette and tucked her under my arm. “Come on, Julie-woolie-doggy-woggy,” I said, trying to soothe her with her favorite nickname, but it didn’t work.
“Look. Do you want me to take care of the ants or not?” the man in the jumpsuit yelled to Manda, over the barking.
That was when I noticed the label on his suit—which, in my defense, looked exactly like a prison uniform. Bug Out! Pest Control. Such an easy mistake.
“Yes, do the ants. But can you help us with the duck first?” Manda pleaded. “You trap squirrels and raccoons, right? If you have a cage we can put it in, I’m sure my parents will pay you extra.”
But the man started talking about things like liability and work orders. I don’t know exactly, because I wasn’t really listening. I had my hands full with Juliette, and nobody was even bothering to open the front door to help me.
Pouya was pulling wet books out of his backpack.
Shady was cradling the duckling in his arm and rocking back and forth with it like it was a baby.
“It’s not that I don’t want to help,” the man concluded. “I would if I could, but I’m not licensed for duck removal.”
Juliette had finally stopped barking, but she was still whimpering.
“Well, can you at least tell me who to call?” Manda said. “Because my mom’s going to freak out if she comes home to find—”
All of a sudden, she stopped.
I followed her gaze.
So did Pouya.
“Shhhhhhh. Shhhhhh.” Shady was looking down, stroking the duckling’s back gently. It had nestled its tiny beak into his armpit.
Like I said, Shady and I used to be friends. He’d always been kind of quiet, but there was a time when he’d talk to me. At least to tell me what outfit he wanted for his Build-A-Bear and whether or not he was putting pretend blueberries in his sand pancakes—but that was a long time ago.
“Shhhh. Shhhhhhh. Quack, quack.”
These days, he doesn’t answer in class or talk to kids at recess or do read-alouds. If anyone asks him a question, he looks straight ahead like he can’t hear them. He doesn’t even laugh out loud. For the last five years, he’d been completely silent.
“Shhhhh. Quack, quack.”
Until now.