glued in the middle. The theme was springtime. I went and looked at one of the leaves close-up. When I got near enough to the paper, I could smell the white glue, the kind we used in kindergarten. I loved school then. No spelling tests, no pop social studies quizzes, no home-work, no pressure. Just building with blocks and dressing up like firefighters and gluing a piece of noodle on colored paper. Man, I was a whiz with glue.
Finally, the front door burst open and Papa Pete came running in. He was wearing his red sweats, and he looked like a giant strawberry. A giant sweating strawberry. Youâve got to hand it to him, though. He jogged all the way there, which is pretty good for a guy whoâs going to be sixty-eight on June 26.
âHankie, I got something youâre going to love,â Papa Pete said with a big grin.
âMy permission slip?â I asked.
âSure, sure, I got that,â he said, handing me the blue slip of paper. âBut look what else I brought.â
He handed me a ziplock baggie. It had a pickle inside.
âYour mother happened to have a couple of dills in the fridge. I thought you might want a snack.â
Papa Pete and I love to eat pickles together. Sometimes, he stops at the Crunchy Pickle and picks up whatever is freshâhalf dills, garlic rounds, bread and buttersâand we sit on the balcony outside my living room and eat them.
âThanks, Papa Pete,â I said. âIt looks great, but Iâve got to get the permission slip to my teacher now. Iâm really late.â
âYou go,â Papa Pete said. âAnd donât worry. Iâll save the pickle for after school andââ
He was interrupted by a sound Iâve never heard coming from Papa Pete. It was a cell phone playing âTake Me Out to the Ballgame.â Papa Pete reached into his pocket and took out a brand-new, shiny, silver phone.
âPapa Pete!â I said. âWhen did you get a cell phone?â
âYesterday!â he said. âDo you know you can play games on this thing? And check the baseball scores?â
Papa Pete reached out and pinched my cheek, like he always does.
âI love this cheek and everything attached to it,â he said. Then he turned to leave. I could see him pressing buttons on his cell phone like crazy and saying, âHello, is someone there?â as he disappeared out the door.
I looked at the clock in the hall. I had three minutes to get to class and turn in my slip. I did my super-speed walk down the hall to the stairway.
Squeak , squeak , squeak. Oh, no. Principal Loveâs Velcro shoes were coming down the hall from the opposite direction. And he was in them! Just my luck.
âWell, young Mr. Zipzer,â Principal Love said in a booming voice. âWhat are you doing in the halls during class time?â
Principal Love has this mole on his cheek that Frankie and I swear looks just like the Statue of Liberty, but without the torch. When he talks, he sounds like he should be tall with bushy black hair, but actually heâs short and mostly bald.
âNothing, sir,â I said. My voice sounded really little.
âNothing accomplishes nothing, which is nothing you can use the next time you need it,â he said, holding one finger in the air like he had just said something really important. âRemember that, Young Zipzer.â
âYes, sir, I will,â I squeaked. âI have to go now.â
âFirst, I have something of extreme importance to tell you,â Principal Love said, getting so close to my face that I thought I could see eyes on his Statue of Liberty mole.
Oh , no. Here comes one of his lectures.
I have never understood one thing Principal Love says when he lectures me. And the most annoying thing is he says everything twice, which means I donât understand it twice in a row.
âThe greatest accomplishments are put into effect by doing something,â he said.