Holy Enchilada Read Online Free Page A

Katherine?”
    â€œWait a minute,” I complained. “Since when does the lizard get a vote?”
    â€œShe’s a member of this family,” said Emily. “But it’s okay, because she votes yes. Don’t you, Kathy?”
    Emily took hold of one of Katherine’s paws and raised it up in the air like she was voting. Katherine hissed. I guess iguanas aren’t big fans of democracy.
    Just then, our dog, Cheerio, who was asleep on the couch in the living room, woke up and ran over to our fireplace. He started to bark at the bricks, which is one of his hobbies when he’s not licking the bricks or chasing his tail.
    â€œI think Cheerio wants to vote, too,” Emily said.
    â€œHey, boy,” I said as I sat down next to him. “How do you vote? Say yip if it’s yes.”
    Cheerio rolled over on his back, and I scratched him on this little white spot under his chin where he loves to be scratched. He yipped, softly, but it was a definite yip.
    â€œThen it’s unanimous,” my mom said. “The whole family votes yes to have Yoshi stay here.”
    I ran to my backpack and got the permission slip. My dad signed it with his red metallic mechanical pencil, and then we all hugged.
    Yoshi was coming to our house. It was a done deal. And done in Zipzer style, too. That meant two parents, two kids, one hissing iguana, and one dachshund barking at the fireplace bricks. Just your typical American family.

CHAPTER 6
    THE NEXT DAY WAS TUESDAY, and our class spent the day preparing for Yoshi and his dad to arrive. They were coming on Wednesday morning and staying until Friday. Yoshi was going to spend Wednesday in our class and then sleep over at my house. The next day, Thursday, was the big Multi-Cultural Day celebration for the whole school. Yoshi and his dad, Mr. Morimoto, were the guests of honor. Everyone in my grade was assigned to bring in a dish from another country. We were going to put all the dishes out for a huge buffet lunch in the Multi-Purpose Room and have a celebration meal.
    In the morning, Ms. Adolf made us clean out our desks for Yoshi’s arrival. Personally, I don’t see why we had to. It’s not like they don’t have messy desks in Japan.
    When I asked her why we had to clean our desks, Ms. Adolf said, “We are putting our best foot forward, Henry.”
    I think if we’re putting our best foot forward, then she should take off those icky gray shoes she wears every day and put on some cool green and yellow Nikes—or at least spray the insides with odor eaters.
    Ms. Adolf walked up and down the aisles with her roll book and put a check next to your name when she thought your desk was clean enough. I was the last one to get a check. I filled up one whole wastebasket with the stuff she made me throw away. There was some really good stuff in my desk, too. A half-eaten granola bar that I was saving in case of emergency. Hey, you never know when hunger will strike. A dried-up blueberry-scented marker that still smelled a tiny bit like blueberries. I was going to miss that marker. Oh, and the seven paper clips bent into triangles that I use to play desk hockey.
    After lunch, Principal Love came to our class to give us a lecture on how we were supposed to behave around Yoshi. Principal Love is a short bald man, but his voice sounds like he should be an NBA player with bushy black hair.
    â€œEach of you is representing not only this school, but this city, this state—all of America!” Principal Love said in his tall man, bushy hair voice. “You are representing us when you walk, when you talk, when you skip, and when you hop. You are representing us when you raise your hand, but not when you don’t raise your hand.”
    Oh, in case this isn’t making any sense to you, don’t worry. I forgot to tell you that no one ever understands what Principal Love is saying. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t either, because there