Dear God, Help!!! Love, Earl, Page 3

  Rosie turned to Maxie and nodded. “You’re right. He is being a kaka.”

  “Kaka” is one of Maxie’s stupid dictionary words. I think it’s some kind of bird. But it sounds like something a lot worse.

  “I am not being a kaka,” I said. “You’re being a kaka. You’re both kakas, in fact. You’re the kaka twins. So there. Ha.”

  Maxie tried to settle me down. “Come on, Earl,” he said. “We weren’t telling secrets about you. We’re just trying to figure out what the heck’s going on with you, that’s all.”

  I felt myself tense. “What do you mean? Why do you think that something’s going on? There’s nothing going on. I swear.”

  “Oh, really?” said Maxie. “Then why did you make up that stupid lie about what you did with the money you brought to school this morning?”

  “It wasn’t a lie,” I lied. “I told you the truth. I gave my money to a Salva—”

  Rosie put her hand over my mouth. “Save your breath, Earl. A Salvation Army guy wasn’t in your room today. I checked it out with the principal’s office.”

  I started to sweat. I couldn’t believe they were after me like this. Why didn’t they just mind their own business?

  “Oh, yeah? Well, guess what, Miss Giant Snoop Head?” I said. “The office didn’t even know about it, probably. I bet the Salvation Army guy was an old friend of my teacher’s or something. In fact, I think that’s what Mrs. Mota even told us. She said that she used to be in the Salvation Army, too. And she and this guy went to basic training together.”

  Rosie rolled her eyes. “The Salvation Army doesn’t send people to basic training, Earl. It’s not that kind of army.”

  Maxie put his arm around my shoulder. “You’re a terrible liar, Earl. We know there’s something going on that you don’t want to tell us.”

  He looked again at the faded footprint still on my shirt. Then he softened his voice a little.

  “It’s got something to do with Eddie McFee, doesn’t it?” he asked.

  My blood went cold when I heard that name. I should have known Maxie would figure it out. The kid buys brain teaser books for a hobby.

  There was no sense pretending anymore.

  I walked over to his porch step and sat down. Then I hung my head so low they couldn’t see my face and I whispered the shameful secret I’d been keeping inside.

  “He makes me pay him, Max,” I said quietly. “I pay Eddie McFee two dollars a week not to beat me up.”

  Maxie winced. “I knew it. I was sure it was something like that,” he said. “I’ve had a feeling there was something going on for a long time now. But it wasn’t until P.E. this morning—when you had that footprint on your shirt, and no money—that I finally put it all together.”

  He gave me a sympathetic pat. Then he reached into the front pocket of his backpack and began to dig around. A couple of minutes later, he pulled out another one of his uncle Murray’s business cards and pressed it into my hand.

  “Sue the creep,” he said.

  I looked at him strangely. Maybe I hadn’t heard him right.

  “What? What did you say?”

  “I said, sue him, Earl. Sue the creep,” he repeated. “What Eddie’s been doing is illegal, okay? It’s called extortion. You’ve heard of that before, right? Extortion is when somebody forces you to pay him money by threatening to beat you up or kill you or something. And it’s against the law. And I bet my uncle Murray could sue the pants off Eddie’s family and really teach them a lesson.”

  All of a sudden, he began to grin at the thought of it. “God, what a great country this is,” he said.

  My mouth dropped open in amazement. “Have you lost your mind?” I asked. “Don’t you understand how humiliating this is for me? I never even wanted you and Rosie to find out. And now you expect me to blab the whole story to your uncle Murray?”

  Maxie frowned. “But—”

  “But nothing, Maxie. But forget it!” I said. “I told you before, I’m not telling anybody anything! If anyone finds this out, I’ll be the joke of the whole school. Even more than I already am.”

  I looked around to make sure no one was coming. Then I cupped my hands around my mouth like a megaphone.

  “ATTENTION, WORLD! CAN YOU FOLKS IN OUTER MONGOLIA HEAR ME? I JUST WANTED TO ANNOUNCE TO THE UNIVERSE THAT I, EARL WILBER, AM A BIG FAT WIMP! AND I CAN’T STICK UP FOR MYSELF! SO I’VE BEEN PAYING EDDIE McFEE TWO BUCKS A WEEK NOT TO FLUSH MY HEAD DOWN THE TOILET! FILM AT ELEVEN.”

  I looked at him disgustedly. “Yeah, Max, that’s just what I want to do, all right. I want to shout my secret to the world.”

  After that, I stood up and started walking for home as fast as I could.

  “Great, Earl. Just great!” Maxie called after me. “Run away just like you always do. This is so typical! You’re such a complete wimple!”

  I came to a screeching halt. Oh! So now we were into namecalling, were we! Well, two could play that game.

  Furiously, I spun around.

  “So sue me, why don’t you? Huh? That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it, Mr. Big Fat Lawyer Pants?” I hollered back.

  For a second, Maxie looked like he had been slapped. Then he narrowed his eyes and slowly began walking toward me. He didn’t stop until he was right in my face.

  “Excuse me,” he said dryly. “But did you just call me Mr. Big Fat Lawyer Pants?”

  I looked down at him and smirked. “Yes,” I said. “That’s exactly what I called you. I called you Mr. Big Fat Lawyer Pa—”

  But halfway through “pants” I started to crack up. I just couldn’t help it.

  Then Rosie cracked up, too. And pretty soon even Maxie couldn’t hold it in. We couldn’t stop, either. We laughed until our sides ached.

  After that, everything got a little easier.

  “Okay. So maybe my Uncle Murray idea was stupid,” Maxie admitted finally. “But that still doesn’t mean there’s not a way out of this problem. Maybe we should all just go home and think about it for a while. Then on Saturday, we can meet at the clubhouse and talk over some solutions. How does that sound?”

  I hesitated. How did it sound? It sounded terrible. That’s how it sounded. The last thing I wanted to do was sit around on a Saturday morning discussing my private, personal, humiliating business.

  Then all of a sudden, I remembered! I had an excuse for Saturday. A real honest-to-goodness excuse that I didn’t even have to make up.

  “Uh oh. Sorry, but I can’t make it on Saturday,” I said a little too happily. “My mother and I have to go to a funeral.”

  Rosie shivered. “Eww. A funeral,” she said.

  “Who died?”

  “I’m not exactly sure,” I said. “There’s some old lady who comes into Milo’s Market every week. And yesterday she told my mother that her best friend died. So Mom offered to drive her to the funeral.”

  I shrugged. “Hey, who knows? Maybe if I make Eddie McFee any madder, next week it’ll be my funeral. That’d be one way out of this problem, right?”

  Rosie hit me in the arm. “Don’t even joke about a thing like that, Earl,” she said. “I mean it.”

  Suddenly, Maxie’s mouth dropped wide open. Then his face turned weird. I mean really weird. Like at first, he just sort of squinted a little and tapped on his chin. But pretty soon his eyes were totally glazed over like his mind was a million miles away.

  After that, he began talking to himself in this hushed, whispery voice. And he kept repeating the word “funeral” over and over again. It was spookier than anything.

  Finally, he started rubbing his hands together. Slowly at first. Then faster and faster, until he clapped real loud.

  “Yes!” he said, punching his fists in the air. “I’ve got it, Earl! I’ve got an idea that will get Eddie McFee out of your life forever! I mean, I don’t have all the details worked out yet. But if I put my mind to it, I know I can put it together in no time!”

  The next thing I knew, he sped up the porch steps, laughin
g like one of those crazy scientists. Then he disappeared inside the house without even saying good-bye.

  Rosie and I stared at the door.

  It wasn’t the first time Maxie had ever weirded us out.

  And I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

  *5* TO BATTLE

  Maxie worked on his idea almost the whole night. He said he didn’t get to bed until three A.M. I believed him, too. Walking to school that morning, he looked all pooped and droopy. And he was still wearing the same wrinkly clothes he’d worn the day before.

  But even though he looked totally worn out, he still called an emergency meeting after school. “Three-fifteen. My garage,” he announced, yawning. “Be there.”

  Maxie’s garage is where our clubhouse is located. Except it’s not really a clubhouse. It’s actually an old, beat-up ’55 Chevy that belongs to his father. Still, if you lock the doors and roll up the windows, it’s a pretty private place to meet.

  When we all got there that afternoon, Rosie and I climbed right into the back seat. Maxie always gets the front to himself. It’s not fair, but Maxie says when you own the clubhouse, you don’t have to be fair.

  As soon as the doors were locked, he pulled three reports out of his briefcase and held them up for Rosie and me to see. They were all printed out and stapled together.

  “Okay, guys, here it is,” he said, handing Rosie and me each a copy. “This is what I was working on all night. The Plan.”

  I looked at the printed title:

  MAXIE’S AMAZING PLAN TO GET RID OF EDDIE MCFEE

  BY MAXWELL ZUCKERMAN

  (IQ 160+)

  Right away my stomach started to churn. The Plan weighed a ton. I mean, geez, I didn’t want to have an epic adventure trying to get Eddie out of my life or anything. All I really needed was a few extra dollars to last me until Christmas.

  I tried to hand it back to him. But Maxie had already started to read. “Act one, scene one,” he began. “Earl’s note.”

  Earl’s note? What note? I thought.

  Out of curiosity, I opened The Plan and turned to the first page. Then, before I knew it, I was following right along as Maxie read.

  The Plan was written exactly like a play—with acts and scenes and stuff like that. Even the actual conversations we would be having with Eddie were already written down for us.

  I know I’ve said it a million times, but Maxie has an amazing brain. If Maxie Zuckerman’s brain ever goes on display at the Smithsonian Institute, it probably wouldn’t even fit into one of those big mayonnaise jars.

  By the time he was finished reading, Rosie’s mouth was hanging wide open. “Whoa,” she said. “This plan is unbelievable, Max.”

  Maxie puffed out his chest. “Yes, I know,” he said proudly.

  He turned to me. “So what do you think of it, Earl? It’s great, don’t you think? I’ve taken care of every single detail, haven’t I? I know we can pull this off, Earl. I’m positive.”

  I began to fidget. Yeah, sure. I mean, The Plan was unbelievable and all. But it was a lot of other stuff, too. Like risky and dangerous … and extremely hazardous to my health.

  Maxie leaned over the back seat. “Well? Say something, Earl. You like it, don’t you?”

  I looked at him and shrugged.

  Maxie’s eyes opened wide. “Whatttt? Are you kidding me? You don’t like it? After all the work I put into this thing, how could you not like it? This plan is brilliant, Earl! It’s remarkable! It’s … it’s …”

  “Suicide,” I said.

  Maxie nodded. “Yeah, okay, fine. I admit that some of it will take a few guts on your part. But it’s not like you’re going to have to do any of this alone, Earl. Rosie and I will be right behind you every step of the way.”

  “Oh, good,” I said. “That’ll be the perfect spot for the two of you to pick up my body parts after Eddie gets through tearing me limb from limb.”

  Maxie looked annoyed at me. “Quit exaggerating the danger,” he said. “There’s no time during The Plan when Eddie will have the chance to seriously hurt—”

  I interrupted. “Have either of you guys ever seen a watermelon bust?” I asked. “That’s what my head’s going to look like when Eddie finally rams it into the bathroom wall.”

  Maxie was getting more and more frustrated. “That’s not going to happen, Earl. I’m telling you this plan will work. Once we get started, we’re going to sail right through this thing as easy as pie.”

  “Sailing makes me vomit,” I said.

  By now, Maxie was totally out of patience. “Listen, you. This plan isn’t just about Earl Wilber, you know. Just because you’re the one with the problem right now doesn’t mean that the rest of us don’t have problems, too. I get pushed around every single day by kids like Eddie McFee. And so does Rosie. And so do a hundred other kids who go to this school.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Eddie McFee is pewage, Earl. All bullies are pewage. And now we have the perfect opportunity to get back at one of them.”

  He raised his voice. “How can you not understand how important this is? This is war. It’s us against Eddie McFee. And we can win it. You and Rosie and I can teach Eddie McFee a lesson that he’ll never forget.”

  Rosie nodded her head in agreement. “I think he’s right, Earl. I think we can do this.”

  She patted my shoulder. “Come on. What do you say? Let’s crush that egg-sucking roach!”

  After that, she and Maxie started whooping it up and high-fiving and junk.

  I sat there and watched them.

  War is always funnest for those who don’t actually have to do the fighting.

  Finally, I got out of the car and began walking to the door.

  Maxie got out, too. “Wait! Where are you going? What are you doing? We can count on you, right, Earl? I mean, you are going to go through with this, aren’t you?”

  For a second, I just stood there staring back at him.

  Then weakly, I gave him a sick salute.

  That’s what soldiers do right before they go on a dangerous mission. They turn and salute the brains of the outfit.

  Then they go into battle.

  And no one ever hears from them again.

  *6* EXTORTION MAN

  I took the long way home. There’s a shortcut through Maxie’s back alley. But back alleys make me nervous. And besides, I needed some extra time to think about The Plan.

  I needed a lot of time, in fact. I mean, how could I even be considering such a stupid thing? If everything didn’t go exactly right, I could end up dead.

  And what about Maxie and Rosie? What kind of friends would encourage an overweight kid with no self-confidence to risk his life against the toughest bully in the fifth grade?

  I cringed at that description of myself.

  An overweight kid with no self-confidence. God, how I hated thinking of myself that way.

  Still, as bad as it was, at least it was better than being a rotten jerk like Eddie McFee. So what if I wasn’t a fighter? What was so terrible about being peace-loving?

  “It’s not fair,” I said right out loud. “A kid shouldn’t have to fight for his right not to fight. It’s not even logical.”

  Without even realizing it, I had stopped walking. Then—even though I was still a block from home—I sat down on the curb and I started to think about stuff. Stuff about the way I looked, I mean. And about the way I was, and the way I wanted to be.

  And don’t ask me why, because I swear this has never happened before in my life. But instead of getting completely depressed, my mind kept going back to the idea that, even with all my faults, I’d still rather be like me than be a jerk like Eddie McFee.

  Finally, with nothing really accomplished, I stood up, brushed off, and began walking again.

  For some reason I felt better, though. I can’t explain why. I just did.

  I don’t know where courage comes from, exactly. I mean, I know you don’t get stronger from just sitting on the curb thinking about yourself. The
only thing I really know for sure is that when I walked in my house that day, I had to go through with The Plan.

  I called Maxie after dinner. The first step of The Plan was scheduled to begin the very next morning. I was going to have to write a note to Eddie McFee and order him to meet me after school. But thinking about it made me so sick inside, I needed Maxie to keep walking me through it.

  We went over it a hundred times, I bet. But even after the two of us finally hung up, there was still more work for me to do.

  First, there was a picture to draw.

  And then there was that note to write. The note that would set The Plan in action.

  It wasn’t going to be a pleasant note, either. It was going to be a nasty note. A very nasty note.

  “The nastier the better,” Maxie had said. “It’s got to make him angry, Earl. Just like the picture you’re going to draw. They both need to make Eddie furious.”

  So eventually I drew the picture. And I wrote the nasty note. But the whole time I was doing it, my hand was shaking like crazy. Because writing a nasty note to a kid like Eddie McFee is like writing an invitation to your own murder.

  Which—now that I think about it—was exactly what I was doing.

  The next morning, I was a wreck.

  As soon as I got to Maxie’s house, I told him that I’d changed my mind. “I can’t go through with this, Max,” I said. “I thought I could. But I can’t.”

  Maxie paid no attention to me. Instead, he grabbed the notebook out of my hands and started searching through my papers.

  “The picture, Earl. Where’s the picture you drew?” he asked.

  Rosie walked up and said hello.

  I ignored Maxie and talked to her instead. “I’m not going through with it,” I said. “On the way over here, I thought of a new plan. A better plan. I’m going to run away and live in a foreign land.”

  Rosie patted my hand like I was somebody’s nincompoop great-grandfather. “Sure you are, Earl. Sure you are.”

  Just then Maxie found the picture I had drawn. His whole face lit up. “Hey! This is good, Earl. Really good! It’s perfect, in fact!”

  Excitedly, he began searching for the note I had written.