CHAPTER 2
A Little Favor
“Seriously?” said Wolfie’s mom when they got home again. “Lying on the floor for half an hour? Without moving?”
“It really wasn’t funny, Miss Smarty-Pants,” said her dad.
“Pants can’t be smart. And I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
Her parents looked at each other. “Okay,” said her mom. “Maybe dance isn’t for you. But I still think it would be good for you to be in the talent show. You don’t participate enough.”
“To participate or not to participate, that is the question,” said Wolfie, looking at her book on helicopters. There was a fascinating picture of a helicopter cockpit. The pilot had to be well trained and alert at every moment. She tried to imagine that the kitchen chair was a helicopter pilot’s seat. She would have one control lever on her left side and another between her knees for her right hand to operate. Also a pedal for each foot.
“I’ll make you a grilled cheese sandwich,” said her dad. “And then we’re all going to Uncle Bob’s house.”
“What for?”
“Because he’s having an art show,” said her mom. “After your uncle retired from his job at the Perfecto Toaster Company, he got bored. So he started painting pictures.”
“What does he paint pictures of?” Wolfie asked.
“Toasters,” said her dad.
“That does sound thrilling,” Wolfie said. “But I’d rather stay home. I’ve got an idea. You let me stay and I’ll spend at least five minutes trying to come up with something for the talent show.”
“How about ten minutes?” said her mom.
“Deal.”
Wolfie ate her sandwich, careful to leave the crusts. Then she waited for her parents to go to Uncle Bob’s. She couldn’t understand why adults took so long to go anywhere. They were always deciding at the last minute to change their shirts or shoes, or else they couldn’t find their wallets or keys. But at last her parents went to the front door.
“Don’t touch the stove!” said her mom. “Don’t let in any strangers. We miss you already!”
They closed the door. Hurray! At last Wolfie had the house to herself. There was nothing she liked better than being alone. Now she could read her book in peace.
Ding-dong!
Who could be at the door? She decided to ignore it.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong…
“Stop ringing the bell!” she shouted through the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Livingston Flott!” came the answer. “Your friend! Fly!”
“You’re not my friend.”
“Oh, right. But let me in anyway.”
“I’m not allowed to let in strangers.”
“But I’m not a stranger!”
“No, but you are strange.”
“Let me in. Pretty please?”
“Go away, Fly!”
Wolfie held her breath. But the doorbell didn’t ring again. Fly didn’t call out. Had he really gone home? Maybe she would get some peace and quiet after all.
She heard a clattering sound.
Wolfie turned around just in time to see Fly climbing in through the open living room window. On his back he had his plastic guitar. He got his other foot over the windowsill and fell onto the floor.
“Whoa! That last step is a doozy.”
“You weren’t invited in,” Wolfie said.
“Your mom told me I could come over any time.” Fly brushed himself off. “Besides, I need your help.”
“For what?”
“For the school talent show.”
“I thought you were going to be in the dance performance.”
“Nah. I couldn’t get the steps. Ms. Stuckley said it didn’t matter, I could do my own steps or I could be a tree. But then I thought that I should do what I’m really good at. You know what that is.”
“Talking?” said Wolfie. “Inviting yourself in? Falling through open windows?”
“No. Making up songs! You’ve heard me do it already.”
“I’ve definitely heard you. But if you’re going to sing at the talent show, you don’t need me.”
“I need your advice. You see, I have this new song I just wrote. And it’s a super-duper song. Maybe one of the greatest songs of all time. But when I sing it, something’s not right. I can’t figure out what it is. So I want you to listen and tell me.”
Wolfie scratched her head. “And that’s all you want?”
“Yup.”
“All right. If it doesn’t take too long.” She sat down on the arm of the sofa. “Go ahead and sing.”