“Look at that man,” my friend Calvin Waffle says.

We’re walking to school and Calvin points to a man walking a dog. He’s wearing a bathrobe and slippers. That’s what the man is wearing, not the dog. The dog is wearing a leash and a collar and has lots of short curly hair.

“I know all about that man,” Calvin says.

Maybe he does. Calvin has told me his father is a spy. Maybe Calvin is a spy, too. Maybe he’s spied on Bathrobe Man. Maybe he’s spied on lots of people in our neighborhood.

Maybe he’s been spying on me!

“That man has a child, probably a son named Devon who wanted a dog. ‘I’ll take care of him,’ Devon promised. ‘I’ll even clean up after him. Please, Dad, please.’”

Calvin stops. He grabs my arm and asks, “And do you know what that man did?”

I shake my head. I don’t know. I’m not the spy. Calvin is.

“He bought the dog for his son. Because of all that curly hair Devon named the dog Parsley and for the first two weeks he walked Parsley five times a day. He fed the dog so much that it puked.”

“Yuch!”

“That was just two weeks ago and do you know what?”

I shake my head again. How should I know what? I didn’t even know the boy’s name was Devon.

“Now Devon doesn’t even look at Parsley. He surely doesn’t take care of him.”

This is all very interesting but we have to get to school.

“We’ve got to get going,” I tell Calvin. “We can’t be late again.”

Our teacher is Mrs. Cakel and she doesn’t like it when we’re late. She doesn’t like it if we write our names too small at the top of our homework papers or too big. She doesn’t like it when we answer her questions too loud or too low—even if the answer is right. She also doesn’t like it if we wear shirts with sparkles or sneakers with blinking lights. Actually, sweet Mrs. Cakel doesn’t like most things we do or wear. I don’t think she’s a happy woman.

Calvin lets go of my arm. We walk toward the corner.

Calvin turns and says, “Now look at him.”

I look at Bathrobe Man again. He’s pulling on Parsley’s leash. The dog wants to smell the grass and Bathrobe Man is in a rush. He looks tired and grumpy. It’s Bathrobe Man who looks grumpy, not Parsley.

“Devon no longer wants Parsley,” Calvin tells me. “Now he wants a football.”

We stop at the corner and wait for the cars to go past.

“Now it’s Devon’s father who feeds the dog. He walks him. He cleans up after him. Bathrobe Man shouldn’t have bought his son a dog. He should have rented one.”

“You can’t rent a dog,” I say.

“Why not? You can rent ice skates, boats, chairs for a party, penguin suits, and cars. Why can’t you rent a dog?”

“Penguin suits?”

“Tuxedos. You know, the suits men wear to their weddings.” Calvin thinks for a moment and then tells me, “One day I might get married, but I won’t wear a tuxedo.”

We watch as Parsley lifts one of its back legs. I don’t want to say what he does, only that I’ll be real careful this afternoon when we walk home from school. I don’t want to step where Parsley stopped and did what he did. I’m wearing sneakers and it not easy getting that stuff out of the grooves in the bottoms of sneakers.

Calvin says, “Can you imagine: I’m getting married and I’m wearing the shiny shoes people wear with tuxedos and I step in that stuff. People would smell me as I walk down the aisle.”

I can’t imagine that. I can’t imagine Calvin getting married.

I look at my watch again and say, “We’ve really got to get going.”

He doesn’t care if Mrs. Cakel yells, but I do.

We cross the street.

As we walk, Calvin keeps talking about Parsley and it’s making me hungry. Mom usually serves parsley on fried fish and she serves fried fish with french fries and I love those fries dipped in ketchup.

“We’re here,” Calvin tells me.

We are. We’re in the school playground and we’re on time. Kids are still here waiting for the bell to ring.

My friends Douglas and Annie are right by the door. They’re not in a hurry to see Mrs. Cakel. It’s just that she gives so much homework and we have to take so many books back and forth to school that our book bags are really heavy. They’re in a hurry to put their book bags down.

The bell rings.

“I’m going to think about that,” Calvin says as we walk into school. “I’m going to think about Devon and his father and that curly-haired dog. I’m going to think about how I can start a rent-a-pet business.”

He can’t. His mother won’t let him have a dog. I think she’s allergic.

“There’s work on the board,” Mrs. Cakel tells us as we walk into class. “Get started.”

The whole board is covered with writing. The heading is “Chronology of the Revolution.” Under that is a list of years and things that happened in the time of George Washington.

Did you know that Paul Revere and William Dawes were not the only ones to warn that “the British are coming”? That was in 1775. Two years later, in 1777, Sybil Ludington, a sixteen-year-old girl, warned that the British were attacking in Danbury, Connecticut. Sybil Ludington rode eighty miles on a horse named Star.

“Mrs. Cakel could just print off the stuff and give it to us, but she writes it on the board and makes us copy it,” Douglas once said during lunch. “She does that to keep us busy and quiet.”

“No,” Annie said. “Copying that stuff helps us remember it.”

I don’t try to know why Mrs. Cakel tells us to do things. I just do them. That keeps me out of trouble.

BANG!

Calvin drops his book bag on the floor.

PLOP!

He plops into his seat.

Mrs. Cakel looks at him and it’s not an “I’m so glad you’re on time today” look. It’s more of an “I’ll get you” and a “you’ll be sorry” look.

I once asked Calvin why he makes so much noise when he comes to class.

“She has a big NO sign in the room,” he told me. “No talking in class without permission. No mumbling. No calling out. No walking about. No slouching. No gum chewing. No eating in class. No note sending. It does not say ‘No book dropping.’ It does not say ‘No seat plopping.’ That means it’s allowed.”

“No it doesn’t,” I told Calvin. “It doesn’t say ‘No kite flying,’ but that doesn’t mean you can bring in a kite with lots of string and fly it in the classroom.”

“Kite flying in Cakel’s class,” Calvin said. “That’s a great idea.”

If anyone else had said that I would know he was joking, but with Calvin, you never know.

“I’ll need a breeze,” Calvin said, “so I’ll open all the windows. I’ll get a dragon kite with long paper teeth and a long paper tail.” He thought for a moment and then added, “I’ll start it flying in the classroom and when it hits the ceiling I’ll push it out the window. I’ll tie the end of the string to my desk. Oh, this will be fun!”

I didn’t tell Calvin he wouldn’t be allowed to fly a kite in class. It’s not a good idea to tell Calvin what’s not allowed. He thinks of the word “no” as a challenge. That might be why he has so much trouble with Mrs. Cakel. She’s always telling us what not to do and he’s always doing it.

So far, he hasn’t brought a kite to class. But the school year is not over.

After we copy the chronology, Mrs. Cakel talks to us about the war. She tells us about the winter beginning at the end of 1777. George Washington led his troops to Valley Forge, Pennsylvania. It was real cold and many of his soldiers had no coats or shoes. But they worked like beavers—seriously, like beavers—and built cabins with logs and mud. Washington’s wife Martha knitted socks for the men. It’s too bad she didn’t knit shoes and coats for them.

After the Revolution lesson she teaches us more stuff about fractions. Then we read.

Every few minutes while I’m reading, I look at Calvin. He has his book open but I can tell he isn’t reading. His eyes aren’t moving. Try it. You can’t read without moving your eyes.

On our way to lunch Calvin says, “I’ve been thinking about Devon and Parsley. I can’t have a dog or any pet, but I have figured how I can start a rent-a-pet business.”

His idea must have something to do with computers. I bet he’s going to create virtual pets. It will be just like you have a pet dog, but it will just be on the computer. His idea won’t work. A computer can’t run to you and wag its tail when you get home from school. You can’t pet a computer.

Calvin hasn’t told me his idea, just that he has one. I don’t know what he’s planning, but I think it will lead to trouble. Calvin’s ideas usually do.