Allergic to Babies, Burglars, and Other Bumps in the Night
Lenore Look
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2013 by Lenore Look
Jacket art and interior illustrations copyright © 2013 by LeUyen Pham
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Schwartz & Wade Books, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
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are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Look, Lenore.
Alvin Ho : allergic to babies, burglars, and other bumps in the night /
by Lenore Look; pictures by LeUyen Pham.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: When fearful seven-year-old Alvin Ho learns that his mother is expecting a baby, he develops a sympathetic pregnancy—adding to his worry about the burglar who is targeting Concord, Massachusetts.
eISBN: 978-0-375-98889-9
[1. Fear—Fiction. 2. Pregnancy—Fiction. 3. Interpersonal relations—Fiction.
4. Schools—Fiction. 5. Chinese Americans—Fiction. 6. Concord (Mass.)—
Fiction.] I. Pham, LeUyen, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.L8682Akm 2013
[Fic]—dc23
2012011455
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v3.1
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Author’s Acknowledgments
Chapter One: A Dark and Stormy Night
Chapter Two: The Rest of the Dark and Stormy Night
Chapter Three: Alvin Doesn’t Look So Well
Chapter Four: The Trouble with Eating for Two
Chapter Five: Personal Donations Kit
Chapter Six: The Pregnancy Test
Chapter Seven: A Scary Surprise
Chapter Eight: The Trouble with Naming a Baby
Chapter Nine: Gone, Just Like That
Chapter Ten: The Alien Detection Machine
Chapter Eleven: Decoding Your Baby’s Cries
Chapter Twelve: “I Miss You, Dad.”
Chapter Thirteen: Sibling School
Chapter Fourteen: My Mom Was Getting Bigger and Bigger!
Chapter Fifteen: A Snow Day!
Chapter Sixteen: It’s a …
Alvin Ho’s Simply Pathetic Glossary
“Every child begins the world again.”
—Henry David Thoreau, Walden
“Babies come from BabyStore.com, as everyone knows.”
—Alvin
“It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. He cries all night. He wears a diaper. He smells bad. And my mom and dad pet him like crazy.”
—Scooter
“Babies need kissing.”
—Anibelly
“It makes different cries for hunger, pain, fear, loneliness … and diaper change. And you have to figure out which cry means what, or else.”
—Calvin
“Boys don’t have babies, do they?”
—Nhia
“ICAN’TWAITFORTHISPREGNANCYTOBEOVER!”
—Alvin
Ann Kelley for her incomparable editing.
The Phamtastic LeUyen Pham for bringing Alvin to life.
Anne Schwartz for loving Alvin even before he was born.
Lucy Dzina, who knows how to put on a hockey uniform.
Shepherd Dzina for wearing one.
it was a dark and stormy night.
My name is Alvin Ho. I was born scared and I’m still scared, so a dark and stormy night is a really crummy way to start a book.
CRAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!
BOOOM!
Usually it takes a couple of pages for things to get really creepy. But not this time!
CRAAAAAAACK!!!!
Worse, I was already freaking out before the storm even began.
Normally, I’m afraid of many things.
Moldy food.
Hairy ice cream.
Hairy ears.
A full moon.
Battlefields.
Cemeteries.
CPR. (Cell phone radiation.)
Dark and stormy nights.
But this was not normal.
I had only one issue.
And it was DA BOMB.
MY MOM IS GOING TO HAVE A BABY!!!
How this happened, I have no idea. My mom said she told us months ago, but I don’t remember hearing about such a thing. Ever.
And now it’s too late.
“Darling, you know I can’t return it,” my mom said. “It’s not the same as buying a toy and then changing your mind. There are no refunds on babies.”
I knew that. Babies come from BabyStore.com, as everyone knows, and when your mom shops in the clearance bins you’re stuck with whatever she buys. All sales final. No refunds. No returns.
The baby was a Final Sale.
I wiped my eyes on my sleeve.
It was after dinner and I was helping my mom put our dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Normally, I like helping her or my dad after dinner. It’s our alone-time together. Calvin and Anibelly aren’t good cleaner-uppers, but I am, and so is my dad. But this was not normal. We were not alone.
Little ears were listening.
“Alvin,” said my mom. “Don’t you remember when we took your grandparents out for dim sum and your dad and I gave everyone the news together?”
No.
“Don’t you remember that it was all we talked about at dinner for a while?” asked my mom.
Not really.
I thought we were playing the what-if game. You know, someone asks, “What if … Godzilla came to Concord, where would you go?” Or “What if … Babezilla were born into your family, what would you do?”
“There are pictures of the baby on the refrigerator,” said my mom, pointing to the curling squares stuck to the door with magnets.
Baby?
That’s a baby?
I thought they were satellite pictures of UFO landings!
I opened my eyes. I looked really hard. I tried to imagine a baby in the white lines and dark spaces. But all I saw were light beams from an alien spacecraft, and maybe an alien or two if I concentrated as hard as I do for a spelling test.
“Alvin,” said my mom. “Haven’t you noticed the baby growing inside me?” She rubbed her tummy.
No.
I thought maybe my mom had gotten chubby, but I wasn’t sure. Who could tell with all the loose clothing she’s been wearing? I was pretty sure that one of the rules of being a gentleman is to not notice when a lady puts on a few extra pounds. But if you break that rule, then you’d better not even think of breaking the next one, which is to not ask her about it or else!
“Darling,” said my mom, “I’m sorry you didn’t know.”
I was sorry too.
All I know is that my troubles began during show-and-tell, when Scooter showed pictures of his new baby brother.
“It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” said Scooter. “He cries all night. He wears a diaper. He smells bad. And my mom and dad pet him like crazy.”
He wiped away a tear.
Then someone said that it looked like my mom was going to have a baby too.
It was news to me.
Then someone else asked when the baby was coming.
I had no idea.
“My mom says it looks like it could be any day now,” said Flea, who’s a girl, and who sits next to me. And girls, as everyone knows, are very annoying.
I wanted to set her straight, but I couldn’t. My voice doesn’t work in school, where I haven’t said a word since kindergarten.
“You should come over to my house and see the baby,” Scooter said. “That way you can see the bomb before it hits you.”
I nodded.
Then Miss P, our second-grade teacher, beamed and said, “Congratulations, Alvin! That’s such wonderful news!”
It freaked me out! She’s never congratulated me for anything, ever. And if it was such wonderful news, why did I suddenly feel so sick?
In fact, I ended up going to the nurse’s office.
Soon after that, my mom had to come and take me home.
And I’ve been feeling like a ferry tipping to one side and taking on water ever since.
“Why don’t you run along and relax,” said my mom. “I’ll finish in here.”
Relax? How can anyone relax when they’re on the brink of ruindom?
I mean, what if the baby’s a girl?
I already have a girl for a sister, and the problem with a sister, as everyone knows, is that you can’t thump her. With a brother, a good pounding usually settles everything.
Worse, how will I ever keep an eye on things? It’s hard enough already with Anibelly getting into my toys, eating my food and drinking my chocolate milk.
Who can run along and relax?
“Is it a boy … or a girl?” I asked my mom.
My mom smiled her mysterious momsmile and rubbed her tummy. “I don’t know,” she said. “I want to be surprised.”
Surprised???
“But I’m allergic to surprises,” I said. “If a meteorite is heading for me, I’d like to know about it!”
My mom’s smile disappeared.
Her eyes narrowed.
She crossed her arms.
The look on her face said she was NOT carrying a meteorite in her belly.
I blinked.
I wiped away a tear.
Then I ran into the living room and sat down next to Calvin, who was in front of the TV.
I breathed in.
I breathed out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Extreme breathing is very loud, like my dad’s car, Louise, when she’s going uphill. It’s something I learned to do from my scary psychotherapist. She said to breathe deeply whenever I need to calm down, and to imagine my breath blowing away all my troubles like wind blowing away dust.
Cough. Cough.
It’s never worked before.
And it wasn’t working now.
I wasn’t calm, or relaxed.
Worse, Calvin ignored me completely!
“calvin?” i said. “Did you know Mom’s going to have a baby?”
“Of course,” said Calvin, still not looking up from his phone. “Everyone knows.”
“I didn’t,” I said.
“You’re not so good at paying attention,” said Calvin, his thumbs hopping up and down on his new cell phone which he got for no good reason except he goes to so many activities after school that he needs to call my mom and dad for rides all the time, it isn’t fair. He’s nine, and I’m seven, which also isn’t fair.
“But—” I began.
“Shhh,” said Calvin.
“The recent rash of burglaries in Concord continued today with three break-ins before noon, and police say they may finally have a lead in the case,” said the news announcer on TV.
Gasp!
“Stay tuned for more details.”
I froze.
My dad was on a business trip in Connecticut, which is even harder to spell than Massachusetts. Usually, we don’t miss him too much when he goes away for a few days. But this was not usual. It was a dark and stormy night. And there was a thief on the loose.
“Mommmm!” screamed Calvin, his thumbs hopping like crazy.
“You don’t need to scream in the house,” my mom yelled from the kitchen. “I can hear you just fine.”
“Three more homes were broken into today,” Calvin shouted.
“Oh dear,” said my mom, hurrying into the living room. She sat down on the couch next to Anibelly, who immediately threw her arms around my mom. If I didn’t mention Anibelly before it’s on account of she’s always hanging around me and Calvin but doing her own thing, like a fungus between two toes. And my dad says it’s not necessary to mention fungus, snot and earwax all the time.
“I’m scared,” squeaked Anibelly, who’s four and who’s hardly ever afraid of anything. Not like me. I’m fearful of everything. Especially of Anibelly being scared.
“There’s no need to be afraid,” said my mom, pulling Anibelly close. “Lucy’s a very good guard dog, aren’t you, Lucy?”
“Oooowwwoooo!” howled Lucy.
“She said yes, right, Mom?” asked Calvin, his thumbs still bobbing like a couple of worms on the tiny keyboard.
“Darling,” my mom said firmly, which doesn’t mean “darling” at all when she says it that way. “You know the rules about the phone.”
“I knnnow …,” said Calvin. His thumbs sped up, then stopped. “Sorry, Mom,” he said.
My mom gave him The Eye. She likes us to be polite, and she’s told Calvin a squillion times to hold his thumbs still while someone is talking to him.
If she only knew.
“Thieves think twice before coming near a house with a dog,” my mom said. “It’s just easier to go where no one’s making so much noise.”
“Did you hear that, Lucy?” Anibelly asked. She slipped off my mom’s lap, slid down beside Lucy and gave her a squeeze.
I was this close to throwing myself at my mom and telling her how scared I was. But I didn’t. I had a feeling a gentleman wouldn’t throw himself like that at a lady, especially a pregnant lady. Worse, I was so freaked out that I couldn’t speak—I couldn’t even squeak—just like when I’m at school.
“Concord police say a suspect was spotted leaving a house this afternoon on Jennie Dugan Road,” the announcer said. “The suspect was a white male, about six feet tall, dressed in a black coat, carrying a black bag and wearing black sunglasses.”
CRAAAAAAAAAAACK!
BOOOOOOM!
“Police say residents should report any suspicious activity and lock their doors.”
Music played. A shampoo commercial came on. A lady whipped her hair around in slow-mo, which made Anibelly get up and whip her hair in fast-mo. I was in no-mo.
“Lock their doors?” Calvin asked. “But we never lock our doors.”
“We should take precautions,” my mom said. She didn’t sound particularly worried, which in a normal town might be okay. But we live in Concord, Massachusetts, which is hard to spell, and which is where the American Revolutionary War began with all sorts of explosions, and where famous dead authors are still in their homes leading tours.
BOOOOOM!
CRAAAAASH!
Lucy’s ears shot straight up.
Calvin jumped—which made me jump, on account of Calvin never jumps except to kick my butt. He knows karate, and someday he’ll climb Mount Everest without oxygen, I just know it. And when you’re tough like that, it takes a lot to make you jump.
“What’s that?” Calvin asked, dropping his phone.
“It’s just the wind,” said my mom.
“It could be the robberer,” said Anibelly.
“It’s not the thief,” said my mom, going to the window, but still not running to lock the doors. We hurried after her.
“How d
o you know?” Calvin asked.
“If you were a thief, would you be out tonight?” asked my mom.
Calvin looked into the storm. The rain was coming down so hard it looked like a vertical Walden Pond!
Thwap-thwap-thwap-thwap-thwap-thwap!
Anibelly covered her ears.
“It’s only a branch hitting the house,” said my mom. “There’s nothing to worry about. When your dad’s away, we’ve got two men of the house instead of one—right, boys?”
Thwap-thwap-thwap!
CRAAAAAAAAACK!
BOOOOOM!
Calvin and I looked at each other.
Then ZZZZZAP!
We weren’t looking at each other anymore.
It was as black as a dead computer screen.
“Eeeeeeeeek!” cried Anibelly, followed by the sound of Anibelly being picked up.
“It’s all right,” said my mom in her let’s-not-panic voice. “Let’s find some flashlights. Hopefully, the power will come back soon.”
“I’ll get them, Mom,” said Calvin, suddenly sounding like my dad. “I know where they are.”
Calvin lit his way with the flashlight app on his phone, the bubble of light growing tinier and tinier until he was gone, like a shiny pearl swallowed by the vast black sea.
Now I was the only man of the house.
Thwap-dok-thwap-thwap-dok-thwap-dok!
I went skinless.
Waaaaaaaaaah! Crying is really great, especially when you’re the man of the house and you don’t have any scary quillery on your chin, not even a whisker.
Even the shadows on the wall were strange—my mom was as big as an SUV! I’d seen something like it before.…
This is the way it always happens on TV!
First, it’s a dark and stormy night.
Second, it’s a creepy little town.
Third, people are inside a house.
Fourth, shadows are stretching and dripping like wet swimsuits all over the place.
