Philip And The Boy Who Said, "huh?" 3v3969

Contents

Copyright Page Dedication Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Bonus Short Stories Philip Gets a Present Philip Meets Mother Nature Philip the Artist About the Author

Philip and the Boy Who Said, “Huh?”

by John Paulits

All rights reserved Copyright © February 1, 2021, John Paulits Cover Art Copyright © 2021, Charlotte Holley

Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC. Lockhart, TX www.gypsyshadow.com

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ISBN: 978-1-61950-641-1

Published in the United States of America

First eBook Edition: February 12, 2021

Dedication

For Andrew from PS 124

Chapter One

“Philip, what is wrong with you? Can’t you hear me? Come down here right now and clean up this mess you made.” Philip sat at the desk in his bedroom and clearly heard his mother downstairs calling for him. He’d heard her the first time. He’d heard her the second time. But now, the third time, he heard something different in her voice. He’d known this change was coming, and he knew it meant trouble. He also knew he’d better answer. “Did you call me, Mom?” Philip shouted. “Did I call you? Did I call you?” He heard his mother step briskly to the bottom of the stairs. “I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes. Do you have your door closed?” Philip made a face. He didn’t have his door closed. He hadn’t thought of that. Next time he’d try it. “Come down here and clean up after yourself.” It was a rainy Saturday, and Philip had little to do. His best friend Emery, who lived down the street, was out with his family visiting an aunt. Mrs. Moriarty, his favorite neighbor, had a cold and told him he might catch it if he came over to visit her. She had lots of great movies she’d bought so he and his friends would come over and keep her company, and she always had a big dish filled with candy sitting on her coffee table. To Philip’s eyes, she looked very old, so he guessed that was why she didn’t go out much. Philip always felt he’d done a good deed when he visited her—the kind of good deed he didn’t mind doing— one filled with chocolate. He and his friend Emery were interested in video games and computer stuff, but what could ever take the place of chocolate? Nothing Philip could think of. Anyway, it was a rainy Saturday, and Philip felt bored. His mother had made

lunch for him—Chef Boyardee’s Ravioli, and he’d left his bowl on the kitchen table. His mother was trying hard to get him to clean up after himself. Philip, though, didn’t think much of the idea, and he’d left his bowl behind and went back upstairs, where he was in the middle of inventing a kind of baseball game using dice and his latest baseball cards. “Do you want me, Mom?” Philip called innocently. Whoops, he thought when he heard his mother’s feet pounding up the steps. He tossed the white dice onto his bed and jumped from his desk chair. He met his mother at his bedroom door. “Oh hi, Mom. You didn’t have to come up for me. I’m coming down.” “You’re coming down?” Lately, his mother repeated lots of things he said. He might say, “What do you want, Mom?” and she’d answer, “What do I want?” She did it so much that things were getting a little spooky, and Philip even wondered whether his mother was losing her hearing. “Philip,” his mother said slowly. He smiled at her. “Please go downstairs and put your lunch dish into the sink and fill it with water. Can you do that? It sounds pretty easy to me. You don’t have to clean it. I will do that. But at least place whatever you leave behind in the sink.” “Oh, sure, Mom. I forgot. I was making this great new game—” He hopped down the stairs faster, he knew, than his mother could follow. Behind him, he heard his mother give a funny, deep breath and say, “a great new game—” He kept going. He’d have his dish in the sink before she could think of anything else for him to do. When he entered the kitchen, he looked through the window and noticed that the rain had stopped. “I’m going out, Mom,” he called as loud as he could. His mother had just entered the kitchen, and he thought he heard her say Good under her breath, but he didn’t wait to hear any more.

~ * ~ It was March, and the whole week had been cold, but today the weather had turned to rain and the temperature had gone way up. Before his father went to the office for a half-day’s work, Philip heard him say, “Better rainy and mild than sunny and freezing.” Philip couldn’t agree more. He took his heavy coat off and threw it on the back porch. It felt great to go without a coat for the first time in months. He walked down the street past Mrs. Moriarty’s house and thought of candy and hot chocolate, but he kept going and crossed the street at Emery’s house. There was no car in the driveway, so he knew Emery was still away visiting. With nothing else to do, he continued down the street. A new family had moved in at the end of the block. He decided to walk past there and see what was going on. To his surprise, something was going on. On the front lawn a young boy about his own size was throwing a ball up in the air and catching it. Philip was surprised at how high the boy could throw. Feeling friendly, Philip said, “Hi.” The boy tossed the ball up, circled under it, and caught it. He pumped his arm, and Philip heard him say, “Yes!” “Good catch,” Philip called. “Want to play awhile? I live up the street.” The boy tossed the ball up again and camped under it. After he caught it, Philip heard him say, “Two out.” “Are you playing a game?” Philip asked, thinking of the dice and baseball card game he’d been working on. The boy finally noticed Philip, surprised to see anyone watching him. He tossed the ball up again, but not nearly as high as before. After he caught the ball, he walked toward the back of the house, away from Philip. “Wait,” Philip called after him. “I’ll play with you if you want.” The boy kept walking and didn’t look back. Philip stared as the boy tossed the ball up, caught it, and kept on going.

Philip wrinkled his forehead. Something wrong with this kid, he muttered to himself. He didn’t say hello or anything. Philip had offered to play with him, but the kid simply walked away. He thought of his lunch dish and realized he wasn’t very fussy about manners, but this kid didn’t have any at all. He hoped the boy didn’t plan on going to his school, Donovan Elementary. And if he did, he’d better not be a fourth grader like Philip. And if he was a fourth grader, the school better not put him in the same class. Philip decided, shy or not, the less he saw of this new kid, the happier he would be.

Chapter Two

Philip couldn’t what time Emery’d told him he’d be home. Three o’clock? Four? He knew Emery had mentioned it, but he probably hadn’t been listening. With nothing to do and not wanting to go home, Philip kept walking. He didn’t feel like going very far. If he did, he’d have to walk all the way back. So he decided simply to go around the block. After he’d made two left turns, he stopped when he heard a lot of laughter coming from somewhere. The houses in his neighborhood stood separate from one another, and you could look between two houses and see into the backyard of the house on the other block, unless there was a fence or something in the way. But most people didn’t have fences or tall bushes, so it was usually easy to see. The laughter came from the back of the house where the new boy lived. Only now, Philip could see it wasn’t only the new boy. The backyard was filled with children. Philip counted three boys and three girls, none of whom he’d ever seen before. Could so many children be in the same family? The boy he’d seen earlier played catch with another boy slightly larger than he was. The rest of the children were busy chasing each other. As Philip watched, the larger boy playing catch got bumped by one of the girls, causing him to throw the ball wildly toward his smaller partner. He chased after the girl, who ran off screaming. Philip watched the smaller boy run after the ball. Then a woman, probably the mother, came out from the back door and said something. Philip couldn’t hear her from where he stood, but when the other children heard her, they stopped what they were doing and ran, laughing, toward the doorway. The woman held out her hand, and they slowed down. One by one, they filed into the house. The boy who’d gone after the ball was still looking for it under a bush. When the woman called again, she spoke louder, and, this time, Philip could hear her. “Eugene. Eugene. Come in for lunch, honey.” The boy stayed on his knees poking around under the bush. “Eugene. Your soup will be getting cold. Come in here now.”

Philip heard the same tone in the woman’s voice that his mother often used with him. The woman put her hands on her hips and shook her head. Louder still she shouted, “You can find whatever it is you’re looking for later, Eugene. Come in now.” Eugene found his ball and stood. When he noticed the empty yard and the woman, he appeared surprised. He slid the ball into his pocket and walked slowly toward the back door. The woman spoke to him a moment, and he answered her, but their voices were too soft and too far away for Philip to hear. The boy went into the house, and the woman followed, closing the door behind them. Philip left and ended up in his own backyard doing what he’d seen the boy, Eugene, doing. He tossed the ball into the air, catching it and making up games as he went along. Philip made sure, of course, the game always turned out in his favor, and so he spent the rest of the afternoon happily.

~ * ~ It was nearing dinnertime when Emery finally showed up in Philip’s backyard. “Where’ve you been all day?” Philip asked, tossing his ball to Emery. Emery dropped the ball and bent to pick it up. He tossed it back to Philip. “Over at my aunt’s. I told you.” “Why’d you stay so long?” Philip tossed the ball to Emery again. He bobbled it, and it fell to the ground. “Two,” Philip counted to himself. Emery picked up the ball and heaved it back to Philip. “My mother wouldn’t give me the car keys to drive home. Why do you think? I had to wait until she wanted to leave. I was ready to come home as soon as I got

there. My mother and my aunt sat and talked all afternoon, and I had to play with my little sister.” “But she’s only a baby.” “She cries if you leave her alone.” Seeing Emery drop the ball a third time gave Philip an idea. “I made up a catching game. Want to play?” Emery shrugged. “Sure.” Philip explained the rules, and for an hour he defeated Emery in game after game since Emery couldn’t hold onto the ball for the life of him. When they finished the final game, Philip said, “It’s almost suppertime. I know my mom’s going to call me inside soon. Let’s go over to your house. Then I won’t be able to hear her if she calls, and we can play longer.” “Suppose she telephones my house.” “Well, she’ll look out here first. That’ll give us some extra time.” “Okay,” Emery agreed, and he and Philip walked together up the street. “Who’s the family that moved in near you?” Philip asked. “The big family? I don’t know their name, but they must have a million kids.” “I saw six,” said Philip. “I tried to talk to one of them, and he didn’t even answer me.” “The kid that’s our size?” “I think so. I heard his mother call him Eugene.” “Right, Eugene. I know which one he is. I said hi to him twice, but he only answered me once.” “What did he do the other time?” “Nothing. He didn’t even turn around.”

“Yeah, same as he acted to me. I hope he doesn’t go to our school.” “He does, and he’s in our grade,” said Emery. “How do you know?” “My mom said. She wanted to invite them over today, but then my aunt called.” “Invite the whole family?” “I don’t think she knows how many of them there are.” “You’re lucky your aunt called.” They’d reached Emery’s house by this time. Emery opened the front door, and the two boys walked directly into Philip’s mother. “Oh, there you are,” his mother said with a smile. “Now I don’t have to come looking for you. Time to come home for dinner.” Philip looked at Emery, who shrugged and said, “See you tomorrow.” Too disappointed to answer, Philip turned around and followed his mother home.

Chapter Three

Mr. Dornick visited Philip and Emery’s class twice a week to teach Social Studies. Philip and Emery liked him because he had a neat looking beard—not too big, not too bushy. He’d called on Kevin and asked, “And what is the capital of our country, Kevin?” Kevin look up and said, “Huh?” Mr. Dornick rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Kevin,” he said, “if I ask you, what does h-u-h spell, then you can give me the answer huh. But until I ask you that question, please don’t say huh. Answer the question I asked.” The class giggled. Keven was always drifting off somewhere. “Now, listen again, Kevin. What is the capital of the United States? We talked about it last time.” “It’s Washington, D. C.,” he muttered. “That’s better. See how easy it can be if you listen closely.” The door of the classroom opened. When Philip saw who entered, he looked at Emery, who rolled his eyes the same way Mr. Dornick had done. The principal, Mr. Greif, was bringing in a new pupil. The principal said, “May I have a moment, Mr. Dornick? Boys and girls, this is Eugene Whitaker. He recently moved into our neighborhood with his family— and he comes from a big family,” the principal said, smiling. “Nine brothers and sisters. Isn’t that right, Eugene?” Eugene nodded shyly. “This will be his new class, and I know everyone will try to make Eugene feel welcome.” The principal nodded at Mr. Dornick and handed the new boy over to him.

When the principal left, Mr. Dornick said, “Well, Eugene, I don’t know where Ms. Moy will want to put you, so how about sitting over there for now? Lonnie’s absent today.” Lonnie sat two rows over and three seats back from Philip, who felt relieved it was far enough away from him that he needn’t have anything to do with the new boy. “I knew this would happen,” Emery whispered as the class waited for Eugene to settle himself into his new seat. “My mother told me if he got put into my class, I should invite him home with me after school to play.” “Hey!” Philip whispered back. “We were supposed to—” “Let’s get back to work,” Mr. Dornick said. “Back to beautiful Washington, D. C.”

~ * ~ “You want to come to my house to play?” Emery asked Eugene. He and Philip had waited on the corner of their block for the new boy to show up. Eugene smiled at Emery. “I’ve seen you around.” “You’ve seen me, too,” Philip said, feeling a little left out. “Saturday.” Eugene nodded without smiling. He lived in the second house from the corner, and they had now reached it. He said, “Wait a minute. I’ll go tell my mother.” “I don’t think I like him,” Philip said. “Why not?” “Why’s he so friendly to you? He doesn’t like me. I can tell.” “How can you tell?” “You saw. He smiled at you, and he didn’t smile at me.”

“I’m not smiling at you, and you’re not smiling at me, but we’re still friends.” “I don’t mean we have to smile at each other every single second,” Philip explained louder than necessary. “That would be stupid. But we smile at each other—you know—once in a while. Eugene never smiles.” “He smiled at me.” “That’s what I said, Emery. Are you paying attention?” “Huh?” Philip glared at his friend. “Kidding,” Emery said with a smile. Eugene burst from the doorway and ran toward the two boys. “She said okay.” “You want to put your books at my house for a while?” Emery asked Philip, ending his question with a big smile. Philip jutted out his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “What?” Emery asked. “I thought you liked to be smiled at.” Without smiling back, Philip said, “Let’s go. I’ll put my books in your house and call my mom.” Philip made his phone call, and now, the three boys had to decide what to do. “Where’s your mother?” Eugene asked. “Upstairs with the baby.” “You have any candy?” Philip asked. “In the kitchen,” Emery answered. The boys trooped into the kitchen, found the candy—a box of miniature Hershey Bars—and sat at the kitchen table, peeling the paper from one after another. “These are good,” Eugene said, his mouth full of chocolate. “We had this kind of candy in my house once, but I didn’t get any of it.”

“How come?” Emery asked. “Too many kids grabbing for it.” “Haw mary kiss?” Philip asked. Eugene and Emery stopped chewing. Emery gave a big swallow and said, “What does haw mary kiss mean?” Philip chewed hard and swallowed. “I didn’t say haw mary kiss. Why would I say something stupid like haw mary kiss? It doesn’t even make any sense. I said, ‘How many kids?’ Don’t you understand English?” “Oh,” Emery said thoughtfully. “It sounded like haw mary kiss to me.” “To me too,” Eugene agreed. “Ten kids, including me.” “I didn’t say haw mary kiss,” Philip grumbled, and everyone went back to unwrapping Hershey Bars. Soon, a tiny brown stream trickled down Philip’s chin. “Chocolate’s running down your face,” Emery warned. Philip wiped the back of his hand across his chin, and then licked the back of his hand. “Don’t want to waste any,” Philip said when he found the other two boys staring at him. “I’m thirsty,” Eugene said. Emery, his mouth full of chocolate, pointed to the sink. Eugene got up and went to get a glass of water. “So what do you want to play?” Emery asked after he’d swallowed his mouthful. “It’s not too cold.” Philip said. ‘Want to go outside?” “Want to go outside, Eugene?” Emery said, facing Eugene’s back and the sink.

Eugene ran the water a moment before he moved his glass under the flow. “Want to go outside and play?” Emery asked louder. Eugene lifted the glass to his mouth. Emery’s and Philip’s eyes met. “WANT TO GO OUTSIDE?” Philip shouted. “YEAH,” Emery called. “WE CAN PLAY HAW MARY KISS.” Philip glared at his friend. Eugene put the glass down, turned around, and said, “So what shall we do?” “I asked you if you wanted to go outside,” Emery said. “Oh. I didn’t hear you. The water was running.” “We talked louder than the water,” Philip said, an edge to his tone. Eugene gave Philip a fierce look. “I said the water was running, and I didn’t hear you. Let’s go outside.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “Come on.” Philip and Emery, neither certain what had just happened, got up and led the way to Emery’s backyard. “I brought a ball,” Emery said. “Want to play—” “Emery!” his mother called from the upstairs window. The boys looked up and saw her leaning out. “What, Mom?” Emery called back. Eugene followed Philip’s and Emery’s gaze. “Is that your mother?” he asked. “Yeah. What, Mom?” Emery repeated. “Come in when I call you. Don’t stand in the yard yelling what. I need some help with Emily. You’ll only be a few minutes. And bring the Handi-Wipes from

the kitchen.” She closed the window. “Don’t ever have a little sister,” Emery grumbled, staring straight at his friends. He turned and trudged back inside the house. “I have five sisters,” Eugene said, moving himself in front of Philip. “Mine usually try to beat me up.” “They’re all older than you?” “All but one, and she copies the others. I’m not allowed to smack her back, though. And the older ones are smart enough to only bother me when Mom and Dad aren’t looking.” “I have a sister,” Philip reported. “Becky.” “Does she bother you or beat you up?” “She’s a baby, same as Emery’s sister. She’s okay. Cries a lot. Sometimes she stops when I pick her up,” Philip said, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. “You’re allowed to pick her up?” “Sure. “You want to pick her up?” “Sometimes.” Philip liked his little sister a lot, but he didn’t think it would be cool to it it, so he changed the topic. “Emery’s going to have another little sister soon.” “His mother’s going to have another baby?” Philip stared at Eugene. “Uh, yeah.” “Gee, I hope his family doesn’t end up like mine.” “What do you mean?” “So many kids, everybody’s picking on everybody else. Your parents don’t have too much time to help with things ’cause there’s so much going on in every

room.” “How many TVs do you have?” “Two.” “Must be a lot fighting over the TV.” “Sometimes. And when we make too much noise, we have to sit and watch whatever show my mother puts on.” “Your punishment is to watch TV?” “Yeah.” “That doesn’t sound so bad.” “Well, my mom tried to take TV away from us once when we were bad, but she found out that when we really had nothing to do, we made even more noise than before. TV keeps us quiet, she thinks.” “You got a computer?” “Yeah, but only the older kids can use it.” One computer for twelve people. Unlucky family, Philip thought. “How about candy? Your mom buy much?” Eugene smiled. “Candy keeps us quiet, too.” Maybe not so unlucky after all, Philip decided. “Can you do me a favor?” Eugene asked. “What?” Philip backed up and tossed the ball to Eugene. “No, no, come closer,” Eugene said. Philip moved back to where he’d been. “Sometimes in school I don’t do so good. Can you stop at my house after school sometimes so I can ask you about anything I didn’t understand in class? You look pretty smart in school.”

Philip tried to keep the surprise out of his face and act as if people told him he was smart in school every day of his life—even though they didn’t. But Philip wanted to know one thing before he said yes. “Does your mother leave the candy out in case anyone gets hungry?” “Sure. There’s always candy in the dish or in the refrigerator. My mom likes it, too.” “Where’s your dad?” “He works in an office. He stays late a lot. So will you help me?” The back door opened, and Emery hurried to them. “Will you?” Eugene asked quickly. “If you want.” “Thanks,” Eugene said. “Let’s play ball. I know a good game.”

Chapter Four

“Is it all right if Emery comes to your house, too?” Philip whispered to Eugene the next day while everyone in class packed up to go home. The teacher had finally given Eugene his permanent seat in the next row over from Philip and one seat back, behind Emery, who sat directly across from Philip. Eugene ignored him. “Eugene. Eugene,” Philip whispered. He didn’t want to talk too loudly. Ms. Moy would hear and hand out a punishment to him. Philip tapped Eugene’s hand. After checking the front of the room and seeing Ms. Moy busy putting on her coat, he leaned close to Eugene. “I said is it okay if Emery comes home with us, too? To your house?” Eugene pointed toward Ms. Moy, and Philip took a quick glance over his shoulder, but saw the teacher simply buttoning her coat. When he looked back, Eugene was facing the other way, so he turned to Emery and whispered, “Emery, want to come to Eugene’s house today? He wants me to help him with his homework.” “You?” “Yeah, me. Why not me?” Emery pointed to the bulletin board where his math test—95%—hung next to Philip’s math test—75%. “Class, everyone please be seated,” Ms. Moy said. Mr. Dornick had entered the room. “Mr. Dornick wants to say something.” Philip looked at the clock—a few minutes short of three. Mr. Dornick better talk fast, he thought.

“Philip,” Mr. Dornick said, smiling. “What time is it?” “Almost three,” Philip answered in a small voice. “So, you think I still have a minute or two?” Philip nodded and gazed at the floor. “I want to remind everyone about the test tomorrow. I haven’t seen you since last week, and I didn’t want you to forget it. And our new friend Eugene—hello, Eugene, can you hear me?” Eugene looked up when he saw Philip turn around and stare at him. “Eugene,” Mr. Dornick repeated, wiggling his fingers as if he were waving hello. “Huh?” Eugene responded. The class giggled. Mr. Dornick looked at the clock and smiled again. “It’s too late for me to go into my huh routine, but, Eugene, are you listening to me?” Eugene nodded this time. “Good. You don’t have to take the test tomorrow, since you’re so new in class. It wouldn’t be fair.” “Oh! Thank you,” Eugene said, eyes wide. “But I want you to do pages 23 and 25 in the Social Studies workbook instead. We’ll count those pages as your test. And now, Philip, it is exactly three o’clock, and I’m outta here, same as you.” Mr. Dornick left, and Ms. Moy lined up the class for dismissal.

~ * ~

“What I said before was, can Emery come to your house, too?” Philip and Eugene stood together, waiting for Emery to finish talking to someone. “Sure,” Eugene answered. “And there’ll be some candy?” “Oh, yeah. I saw it this morning.” Emery ed them, and they walked off. “So, you want to go to Eugene’s house with me?” Philip asked. Emery shrugged. “I guess. Probably noisy, so many people.” “At least there’s no babies there,” Philip said. Emery nodded sympathetically. Trying to do anything at his or Philip’s house when one of their baby sisters was crying was impossible. Eugene pulled Emery to a stop in front of his house. “You want to come in with Philip?” “Philip already asked me,” Emery said. “Oh. Well, do you?” Emery said he’d go tell his mother and be right back. Philip followed Eugene inside. When Eugene closed the door behind them, Philip stared in amazement. The living room had toys scattered everywhere. Two small children, a boy and a girl, chased each other through the mess. “Give it back!” the boy yelled. The girl, a little bigger than the boy, held a toy airplane above her head, laughed, and raced away. The boy stopped when he saw Philip staring at him.

“That’s my brother Peter,” Eugene said. “What’s he doing?” Philip asked. “Huh?” Eugene responded. Peter stared at Philip with the meanest face Philip had ever seen on a little kid. He was dressed in jeans, both knees of which were torn open, and a stained, yellow T-shirt hung outside his pants. He wore dirty white socks but no shoes. The socks flopped so loosely on his feet that they looked like two white tongues sticking out, dragging along the floor. The small boy put his head down and charged at Philip. “Hey!” Philip cried, too surprised to get out of the way. Bang! Peter’s head slammed into Philip’s stomach. “Stop it, Peter,” Eugene ordered. “He’s a friend of mine.” “Shut up,” Peter snapped. He drew back his arm and punched Philip in the side. “Hey!” Philip cried again and took shelter behind Eugene. Suddenly, the toy airplane flew through the air and—wham! —crashed into Peter’s back. Good, Philip thought. Peter screamed, “Ow, you stupid—I’m going to get you now.” He picked up the airplane and charged after the girl. The girl laughed and wiggled her rear end at Peter; then she charged into another room. Philip stepped out from behind Eugene. “Who were they?” he asked. “Huh?” Eugene turned so he stood right in front of Philip. “I said who were they?” “Peter and Pamela. My brother and sister. Peter likes to punch people. Pamela

likes to tease Peter. They don’t always get along.” The front door opened behind them, and three older children entered, carrying their schoolbooks. “He is so weird,” the biggest girl was saying. “You can have him.” “He’s not weird,” said the second girl. “You’re weird for treating him that way, isn’t she, Lambert?” “Can both of you please shut up,” sighed an exasperated boy. “You’re both weird. I’ve been telling you for years. I’m going to do my homework, so leave me alone.” The three chattering children walked past Eugene and Philip, scarcely acknowledging them, and their argument continued as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. “More brothers and sisters?” Philip asked. “How do they get along?” Before Eugene could answer, Pamela, chased by Peter, who still clutched the airplane threateningly above his head, charged across the living room. Peter slowed down and looked hard at Philip, who slunk behind Eugene again, trying to make himself invisible. It worked. Peter took off in hot pursuit of his sister. “Are there more?” Philip asked, keeping an eye on the spot where Peter had disappeared. “Huh?” Eugene turned to face Philip again. “More, more. Are there more?” “Four more. Carl’s the one you gotta watch out for the most.” “Which one is Carl?” Philip said, carefully scanning the area. “He’s my littlest brother. But don’t worry. My mom doesn’t usually let him out of his room.” Philip’s eyebrows rose. “What does he do? Eat people?”

“Well, no. Not exactly.” “What do you mean, not exactly?” Philip spouted. “He bites. A lot.” Voices came from upstairs as the three older children’s argument went on. A loud, grown-up voice screamed, “I want you in your rooms doing homework! Now!” It got quiet for a time. “That was your mom, right?” “Did you hear a real loud scream?” “Yeah. Real loud.” “Then, yeah, had to be my mom.” “So where are we going to go? Not anywhere Peter can find us, I hope.” The front door opened again, and Philip jumped, ready for anything, but it was only Emery, who stood with his mouth open, iring the wreck of a living room. “Wow!” he muttered. “What a great room! It looks like my bedroom. Who’s that?” Pamela tore through the living room from one side to the other, holding the airplane again. The moment she disappeared, Peter ed through, running at top speed and screaming, “Give me back!” He slid to a halt when he caught sight of Emery. “Stop that noise!” a grown-up voice screamed from upstairs. “Uh-oh,” Philip said when Peter started toward them, wearing the same evil face he’d worn earlier. “Emery, look out,” he warned as he backed against the wall. “Why look out?” Emery asked. “Who’s this cute little guy?”

At the words little guy Peter put his head down and charged. Wham! His head connected with Emery’s stomach. Emery bent over and said, “Oof!” Then Peter pulled his arm back and whack! He smacked Emery in the side. “Yeow!” Emery squealed. Suddenly, an airplane flew through the air and crashed into Peter’s back again. He bent down and picked up the plane. His sister laughed at him, spun around, and wiggled her backside again before zooming away into the next room “I’ll get you,” Peter roared, and off he went after her. “Who the heck was that?” Emery cried. “He hit me! Twice!” Philip explained. “That’s Eugene’s brother Peter.” “Look out!” Emery cried. “They’re back!” Peter and Pamela ran through the living room in the opposite direction. Emery and Philip collided as they both tried to squeeze behind Eugene. They were both still scrambling for safety when Eugene turned to them and said, “Let’s go into the kitchen.” “Will it be safe?” Emery asked, knowing there were more brothers and sisters somewhere. Eugene led them away from where Peter and his sister had made their exit. They took chairs around the kitchen table and plopped their schoolbags on the floor. “It sounds quiet,” Philip whispered. “Let’s try to start our homework.” “What did you say?” Eugene asked. “Don’t whisper.” “Did you understand everything we did in school today?” Philip asked. “Let me sit here,” Eugene said to Emery, who moved over one seat so Eugene could sit directly across from Philip. “Let’s do the math. I didn’t get the part where you add the fractions.” Philip explained as best he could about adding fractions, and once in a while

Eugene nodded. Emery added a thought or two, and then they all attacked the page full of problems adding fractions. Every two minutes or so, though, a horrifying scream came from somewhere outside the kitchen. “What’s with the screaming?” Philip asked, eyeing the kitchen doorway fearfully. “Don’t worry,” Eugene said. “It’s probably Peter and Pamela playing.” “Playing?” Emery said, surprised. “It sounds like they’re killing each other.” The boys worked a few more minutes but paused when they heard a small, threatening voice say, “What aw you doin’ heah?” Philip looked down, squarely into the face of a tiny boy wearing a tattered white shirt and a thick white plastic diaper, who had somehow crawled under the kitchen table unseen. Philip looked at Eugene, then back at the little boy. “Uh, I hope you’re not Carl, are you?” “I’d wike to bite you!” the boy said, a smile slowly forming and showing his shiny baby teeth. Philip leaped out of his chair and pointed under the table. “Eugene!” Eugene jumped. “What?” “Under the table,” Philip shouted. Emery bent down for a look. “Who’s that?” Eugene said, “Carl, get out of there. MOM!” he screamed. “MOM. CARL’S LOOSE! MOM!” “What do you mean he’s loose?” Emery asked, backing up along with Philip. “I’m goin’ to bite you,” Carl said, crawling toward Philip. When he got close enough, he threw himself on Philip’s leg. “Hey! Get off. Stop! Don’t! Owww! Eugene. Help! Emery!”

Emery couldn’t help him because he’d already climbed on top of the kitchen table. Eugene shouted, “MOM! MOM! CARL’S BITING AGAIN.” Philip echoed him. “MOM! MOM! YOUR CRAZY KID IS BITING MY LEG!” He kicked with his unbitten leg and managed to knock Carl backwards. Carl climbed slowly back into a squat. “Now, I’m weally mad.” He launched himself again at Philip, who desperately tried to scramble out of the way. Suddenly, a woman ran into the kitchen. “Carl,” she said, sternly. Carl growled but backed away from Philip, who took the opportunity to Emery atop the kitchen table. “Out!” the woman demanded, pointing. “Get back to your room.” Philip hoped the woman succeeded, but with her hair flying around her face, her dress full of wrinkles, and a strange, sad look in her eyes, his confidence in her wasn’t very high. Carl crawled back under the table. The woman got down on her knees and bent her head down. “Come out of there. Out! OUT! OUT!” The last out was the loudest Philip had ever heard a grown-up shout. Slowly, Carl slithered out into the open. “He bit me,” Philip offered in a tiny voice, afraid he and Emery were about to get yelled at for being on top of the woman’s kitchen table. “OUT!” Eugene’s mother screamed again, and Carl sulkily got to his feet and waddled from the room. She brushed the hair back from her face and stood up. “I’m going upstairs and try to get dressed. I have dinner to make. We’re having company. Do your homework, do something, and don’t make noise!” Her request not to make noise sounded small and sad.

As Philip climbed down from the table, he heard the woman murmur, “Don’t make noise. Please, sweet heaven, don’t make noise.” Then she was gone. With one eye always on the doorway, Philip and his friends managed to complete their math. “You don’t need help with anything else, do you?” Philip asked, hoping Eugene had had enough for one day. Embarrassed, Eugene said, “No more, thanks.” “Yeah, we did enough,” Emery said boldly, and he began throwing his books into his schoolbag as fast as he could lift them. “Will you help me again tomorrow?” Eugene asked softly. Neither Philip nor Emery answered. Emery looked at Philip, who said “Uh, well, maybe you could get permission to go to my house after school.” Eugene smiled. “Yeah! Good idea. I’ll ask my mom.” “You! Just you!” Philip hastened to add. “No brothers or sisters or anything.” “Yeah, only you,” Emery chimed in. Eugene nodded. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.” The boys bid one another good-bye, and Philip and Emery, shoulder to shoulder, eyes circling the living room alert for danger, made their way to the door. They exited quickly and closed the door behind them even more quickly. “Whew! We made it,” Emery said with a sigh. “I’m not going in there again,” Philip said as they walked down the path to the sidewalk. “Me, either,” Emery agreed. “If he can’t come to my house or your house, I guess he’ll have to fail every subject we have,” Philip said.

Emery shook his head in agreement. “The family’s crazy.” “Bonkers!” “Loony!” “Total aliens!” From there, they walked in silence until they reached Emery’s house, where they said good-bye. Then Philip ran home as fast as the load of books he carried on his back permitted. “Hi, Mom,” he called when he entered the front door. “Why are you all dressed up?” “I’m not all dressed up. Only a little. Daddy’s working late tonight, and we’ve been invited to dinner.” Philip’s blood froze. “Where?” “At the house of the new family down the street. I was shopping with Emery’s mother today in the supermarket, and we met Mrs. Whitaker there. She invited us. Wasn’t that nice of her?”

Chapter Five

The next day in school neither Philip, Emery, nor Eugene mentioned the dinner of the night before. They ignored the peas mashed into the living room rug—not one of the boys was quite certain how it happened. They ignored the Jello, which somehow ended up down Philip’s shirt—no mystery there. Peter dropped it in from behind. They ignored the mashed potatoes Philip’s mother found in her purse when they got home—another mystery, although they had their suspicions, since Pamela did ask for a second helping. And most of all, they ignored the four broken dinner dishes. A disagreement between Peter and Pamela ed for three of them. How the fourth got broken remained a mystery. Philip didn’t bother to tell Eugene about his mother telling his father she’d never seen a more disorganized disaster than Eugene’s family. Philip’s mother did tell Philip, though, to be sure and bring poor Eugene home with him if he wanted to continue to help him with his homework. “My mom said it’s fine with her if you come to my house after school,” Philip reported to Eugene. “We’ll invite Emery, too.” “It’ll be like a club,” Eugene said excitedly as they walked down the hallway after visiting the bathroom. A teacher, Mr. Ware, stepped from his room into their path, and said, “Come here a moment, boys. I’d like you to do something for me.” Eugene went to him, and Philip walked a few steps to the water fountain for a drink. Mr. Ware spoke to Eugene for a moment. “What did he want?” Philip asked as the boys continued back to their classroom. Eugene answered Philip with a puzzled look. “He gave me some weird message for Ms. Moy.” When they entered the classroom, Eugene walked to the teacher’s desk, and Philip went back to his seat. “Mr. Ware gave me a message for you,” Eugene said.

“What was it?” Ms. Moy said with a smile. Eugene scratched him head in confusion. “Well? What did he say, Eugene?” Ms. Moy repeated. “He said Billy had a beaver.” Ms. Moy’s faced scrunched up in puzzlement. “Billy had a beaver? Are you sure that’s what he said?” Eugene shrugged and looked at the floor as the class giggled. “Marilyn,” Ms. Moy said to the girl sitting directly in front of her, “would you run next door and ask Mr. Ware to write down the message? Okay, Eugene, you can sit.” Philip gave him a look when he ed his desk. “Billy had a beaver?” he whispered. Eugene ignored him. A moment later, Marilyn returned, holding a piece of paper. She handed it to Ms. Moy, who read it and laughed. “Lily has a fever, not Billy has a beaver,” she said aloud. “That’s why she’s absent today.” The class began laughing, and Eugene turned red. He glued his eyes to his spelling book as Ms. Moy quieted the class. Philip began to think, but not about spelling. Eugene and Billy with the beaver filled his mind.

Chapter Six

Philip spent the next few days in school keeping a close watch on Eugene. He watched him when he spoke to other children. He watched him when the teachers asked him questions. No one said, Huh? more than Eugene. Then he tried an experiment. He stood behind Eugene and asked him something but got no answer. He moved next to Eugene and faced forward in the same direction as his friend and repeated his question. Still, no answer. When he leaned over and spoke softly into Eugene’s ear, he would turn, look at Philip, and say, “Huh?” Finally, Philip stepped directly in front of Eugene and, staring right at him, repeated the question. Only then would Eugene answer him. The same day at his house, Philip had one more experiment to try. He and Emery sat in Philip’s kitchen waiting for Eugene to arrive. Philip said, “Emery, when I come downstairs, do what I tell you, okay?” “What are you going to tell me?” Emery asked. Philip stared at him. “If I tell you what I’m going to tell you, then you’ll already know what I told you.” Philip bounded up the stairs. Emery scratched his head and waited until Philip came down the stairs at a run. “READY?” Philip asked. “Hey! Why are you talking so loud?” Philip ignored him and continued to speak in a loud voice. “ASK ME HOW THE WEATHER IS TODAY.” Emery walked to the window. “It looks the same as it’s been all day.” “WHERE ARE YOU GOING? COME OVER HERE. I DON’T WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THE WEATHER. NOW, ASK ME HOW THE WEATHER IS TODAY.” Philip turned his back on Emery.

Emery, more puzzled than ever, said, “If you don’t want to know about the weather, why should I ask you about the weather?” “GO AHEAD,” Philip said. “HOW’S THE WEATHER TODAY?” Philip spun around. “WHY ARE YOU SHOUTING? ANYBODY COULD HEAR YOU WHEN YOU SHOUT LIKE THAT.” “I’M SHOUTING BECAUSE YOU’RE SHOUTING.” “I’M NOT SHOUTING.” Philip took a deep breath and, more softly, said, “I’m not shouting.” “Now you’re whispering. Can’t you talk normal?” “I am talking normal,” Philip said, his aggravation building. “Listen, when I turn around, ask me what I told you to ask me, okay?” “You bet,” Emery said, bobbing his head once. When Philip turned around, Emery said, “Philip, how was the weather today?” “GO AHEAD AND ASK,” Philip shouted. Emery tapped Philip on his shoulder, and Philip spun around. “I did ask you, but you didn’t answer me.” “YOU DID? GREAT. NOW DO IT AGAIN.” Philip lined himself up next to Emery so they both faced in the same direction. Emery tried to look at Philip, but every time he moved in front of him, Philip moved away. Emery continued trying to stand opposite Philip, but Philip kept moving in a circle. Finally, Philip stopped and said, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP FOLLOWING ME AROUND. IT FEELS LIKE WE’RE IN DANCING CLASS. STAND STILL!” Philip held Emery’s arms to his side. “NOW, DON’T MOVE!”

Philip lined himself up properly. “NOW ASK ME. AND DON’T MOVE! “HOW WAS THE WEATHER TODAY?” Philip jumped in front of Emery and, trying hard to control himself and speak softly said, “Why are you yelling again?” “’CAUSE YOU’RE YELLING EVERY TIME YOU TALK. WHY CAN’T I?” Philip pinned Emery’s arms to his side a second time. “Stay still. Don’t yell no matter what happens. If the house catches on fire, don’t yell.” “What should I do then?” “Point,” Philip snapped. He positioned himself next to Emery, again facing in the same direction and, in a whisper, said “Ask me in a regular voice.” “How was the weather today?” “I HEARD YOU A LITTLE, BUT I COULDN’T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU SAID.” He turned to Emery, so they were finally face to face. “NOW ASK ME AGAIN.” Emery took a few steps back. “YOU’RE YELLING AGAIN.” Gritting his teeth, Philip said slowly and softly, “Ask me again.” “The weather question?” “Yes!” “How was the weather today?” “See!” Philip said excitedly, pulling two wads of cotton from his ears. “I can only hear you good when I look at you and see your lips move.” Emery stared at the cotton Philip held in his hand. “You were talking loud ’cause you had cotton in your ears?” “Right. That’s why I couldn’t hear you. I couldn’t even hear myself.”

Emery took the cotton from Philip and said, “Let me try.” “Yuck! I already had that in my ears. It’s probably got ear gunk on it.” Emery dropped the cotton on the floor. “Eww! Double yuck! Why’d you put cotton in your ears? What were you doing?” “An experiment.” “Did it work?” “It worked fine,” Philip said, certain now more than ever that he knew what was wrong with Eugene. No wonder he always said huh. No wonder he never knew what was going on in school. No wonder he never knew what he was supposed to do for homework. And no wonder he always stood right in front of people when he talked to them. Eugene couldn’t hear like other people could. He didn’t know what people said unless he stood close and stared at them. He was, Philip realized, hard of hearing—maybe even deaf. In school he’s deaf and dumb. One of the dumbest. But he isn’t dumb because he isn’t smart. He’s dumb because he’s deaf! The doorbell rang. “Can you get it, Emery? It’s probably Eugene.” Philip knew a big problem when he saw one, and he decided he’d better do something about this big problem.

Chapter Seven

Philip had a difficult time keeping Emery from suggesting the three friends play cotton-in-the-ear. Every time Emery started to say something about it, Philip interrupted with another suggestion. Once, when his mouth was full of chocolate and he couldn’t talk, he even had to step on Emery’s foot to keep him quiet. Philip breathed a sigh of relief when, finally, Emery’s mother called, and he had to go home for dinner. Philip crossed his fingers and moved in front of his friend. “Eugene,” he said. Eugene looked at him in surprise. “What?” “Can you hear good?” Eugene’s face went blank. His bottom lip quivered. “You okay?” Philip asked. “Can we play the same game we played yesterday,” Eugene said, choosing one of Philip’s computer game cartridges. “In a minute. I want to know something first,” Philip insisted. “You only answer me when you’re looking at me. Is it because you can’t hear people very good?” “I hear people real good,” Eugene said angrily. “Now, let’s play something.” Without warning, he suddenly threw the game cartridge against the wall. “I hear,” he cried, “I hear real good. Okay? Okay?” Then he started to weep. Philip stood with his mouth open, speechless, as Eugene grabbed his school bag and ran to the front door. He looked back at Philip and yelled, “I can hear. All right? Mind your own business.” He yanked the door open and stomped out, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

~ * ~ “Dad,” Philip said to his father after his father had hung up his coat, changed his clothes, and sat down on the sofa to read his newspaper. “What is it, Flipper?” his father asked from behind his paper. “You know Eugene, right, the new kid who lives down past Emery?” “I do.” His father folded his paper and patted the sofa. Philip sat next to him. “I think he’s got a problem.” Philip’s father’s eyebrows raised. “Oh? Go on.” “I don’t think he wants anybody to know about it.” “What’s his problem?” “He can’t hear.” “What do you mean? I talked to him, and he seemed to hear me fine.” “That’s ’cause you looked right at him when you were talking. He can only hear when he’s looking at you.” He told his father about his experiments with Eugene’s hearing. Philip’s mother came into the room carrying Becky, Philip’s baby sister, over her shoulder and rubbing the baby’s back, trying to get her to burp after drinking her bottle. “Did you hear this, honey?” Mr. Felton asked. “Philip thinks his new friend Eugene has a hearing problem.” Mrs. Felton sat on a soft chair and put the baby stomach down on a towel she’d spread across her lap. She continued to rub the baby’s back. “But Philip, wouldn’t his family know if he had a hearing problem?” Mr. Felton asked. “Humph!” Mrs. Felton snorted. “I told you about that family. You’re lucky you

had to work late that night. Believe me, an elephant could walk through the living room, and no one would notice it. Chaos. Total chaos in that house. Anything could be true.” “Before he left this afternoon, Dad, I told him I knew he had trouble hearing. He got mad and grabbed his stuff and went home.” “Wow,” Mr. Felton said softly. “Maybe I should go over and talk to his parents.” “His father works a lot,” Philip explained. “They have a lot of kids. His mother’s always home, though.” “How much time before dinner, honey?” “How hungry are you?” “I can wait a bit.” “Good. I want to give Becky her bath and be done with the chores for the night.” “Okay then. No time like the present.” “You’re going over to Eugene’s house now?” Philip asked. “As I said, there’s no time like the present. Want to come along?” Philip thought of Peter and Pamela and Carl the man-eater. “Uh, no thanks. I think I’ll finish my homework.” Mr. Felton put on his coat and walked toward the door, Philip following behind. “Good luck, Dad. Stay safe.” His father gave him a puzzled look and left the house.

~ * ~ Twenty minutes later Philip, sitting at the kitchen table, heard the front door slam

louder than usual. He jumped from his chair and ran to meet his father. When he saw him, he stopped short. One pocket of his overcoat was ripped. There was a big red stain near the other pocket. One shoe was covered with mud, and the other one had deep scratches all over it. “Did you know they have a dog?” his father said in an out-of-breath voice. Philip’s mother walked into the room, holding a newly-bathed Becky, and stared. “What in the world happened to you? Were you attacked by a tiger?” “Did you know they have a dog?” he repeated to his wife. “Philip, you didn’t tell me they had a dog. They have a dog!” “You sure it wasn’t Carl?” Philip asked. “The dog’s named Carl? Who’s Carl,” his father asked, taking off his coat and holding it front of him to examine. Philip touched the ripped pocket of his father’s coat. It felt wet. He pulled his hand back. Dog spit, he thought. Bleech! Philip’s mother looked at Philip then back at her husband. “We didn’t see a dog when we were there. Were you attacked?” “Yes! This… this little… kid. He leaped on me as soon as I got in the house.” “That’s probably Peter,” Philip said. “He ripped my pocket. Then this dog comes bounding into the room from nowhere and starts jumping on me. I finally get him off me for a minute when, WHAMMO! This jar of red stuff comes flying through the air. Some little girl threw it at me.” “That’s gotta be Pamela,” Philip said. “She’s not very nice.” “Oh, you think!” Mr. Felton responded. “She threw the red stuff at the boy who jumped on me, but he was smart enough to duck. Then the dog jumped on me again and started chewing on my shoe. I yelled for help. I saw Eugene at the top of the stairs and called to him, but he didn’t do a thing until he saw me.”

“See, Dad. He didn’t hear you yelling for help.” “Yeah, well anyway, Eugene yelled for his mother while the dog kept chewing away on my shoe. It was a nightmare. Finally, the mother appears at the top of the stairs, and she’s carrying another little boy.” “That was Carl, Dad. Look out for him. He’s dangerous.” “He’s dangerous! The whole family is dangerous. The kid she’s carrying sees me and wriggles out of her arms and starts down the stairs backwards on his hands and knees. As he’s crawling down, he keeps looking over his shoulder at me. I’m trying to kick the dog off my shoe. When the crawling menace gets to the bottom of the stairs, he starts my way but decides to bite the girl who threw the red stuff before he gets to me. I finally got rid of the dog and got out the door, but then I stepped right smack into a deep mud puddle on the lawn. This pair of shoes is ruined. You were right, sweetheart. A whole circus train could go through that house, and it wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference.” “Where you going Dad?” “I’m going to make myself a drink, if it’s okay with you.” “What about Eugene’s problem. Did you tell his mother anything?” “I’d like to tell her something.” “Sweetheart,” Mrs. Felton said, trying to calm her husband. Mr. Felton took a deep breath. “I’ll take you to school tomorrow morning and speak to the principal. They don’t allow dogs or Peters or Carls in your school, do they?” Philip shook his head. “Not yet. Maybe when they’re older.” “Ha! That’s when we’ll move out of the neighborhood.” “Darling, please,” Mrs. Felton said, a tiny smile forming. “That’s what we’ll do, visit the principal tomorrow morning. Now, no more about Eugene and his problems tonight. Okay?” His father paced briskly out of

the room. “Okay,” Philip called after him, wondering why his mother was laughing. He thought of Peter pulling on his father while a dog chewed on his shoe—and of Carl getting ready to attack from the stairway. He squashed his lips together to keep from laughing. When he heard his father coming back, he ran up the stairs, figuring he’d better do his laughing out of sight in his own room.

Chapter Eight

The next morning at nine-thirty, Mr. Greif, the principal, entered Philip’s classroom. He waggled his finger at Ms. Moy, who stepped outside into the hallway with him. Philip’s stomach dropped. He guessed it had to do with his father’s visit to school that morning. Sure enough, when Ms. Moy came back into the room, she said, “Eugene. Eugene. Mr. Greif would like to see you.” Eugene rose and cast an angry look at Philip, who quickly began to inspect his pencil. “Where’s he going?” whispered Emery. “Why’d he give you that look?” Philip shrugged, still deeply interested in his pencil. The classwork went on, and thirty minutes later Eugene reentered the room. His face looked sad, and his eyes were red. He walked to his seat, but as he ed Philip, he whispered, “I hate you!” Philip stared straight ahead, and when, at three o’clock, he saw Eugene running away from school toward home, he didn’t try to catch him.

~ * ~ That night, Philip’s father described his visit to school for his wife and Philip. “You were right, Flipper. I spoke to the principal—nice fellow—and he went and got out Eugene’s records. Seems like no one ever tested his hearing. The principal explained how the school tests the kids’ hearing beginning in second grade, so Eugene should have been tested at least twice, maybe three times. Somehow he managed to avoid the test each time.”

“I’ll bet he told his mother he was sick and stayed home,” Philip guessed, silently iring his friend’s ability to skip school when he chose. “His mother might not even have known he stayed home,” Mrs. Felton said. “Not with all that goes on in that place.” Philip’s father continued. “So he went and got Eugene out of class and had him tested then and there. A school nurse is in the building two days a week, and today was one of her days.” “How’d she test him,” Mrs. Felton asked. “Did you watch?” “I did. They put headphones on him, and he had to raise his hand when he heard a beep. I think he bombed the test. The principal said he couldn’t discuss the results—privacy issues—but he thanked me for bringing things to his attention.” “Will they help him?” Philip asked. “I’m sure they will.” “How?” “The principal didn’t get into that with me.” “Eugene won’t talk to me now. He only said he hates me,” Philip said. “He’ll get over it, Philip,” his mother said. “He’s mad at you for figuring out his secret.” “Your mother’s right. I suspect he’ll eventually be grateful to you.” Philip didn’t respond. He recalled one time Emery had let a secret of his slip out. He thought he would never ever want to play with Emery again. But he got over it, just like his mother said Eugene would. He hoped so. Emery was his best friend, but Eugene was okay, too. Philip went off by himself to watch TV until bedtime, wondering what the future would bring.

~ * ~ The next morning a woman dressed in a white nurse’s uniform came to take Eugene out of class. When Eugene came back, he wore an angry look on his face. He didn’t tell Philip he hated him again, but from the mean glance he gave him, Philip knew he still felt the same. Not only did Eugene stop talking to Philip, but he also stopped talking to everybody. Ms. Moy even took Eugene aside to ask him whether he was all right. But it was Friday afternoon now, and Philip put thoughts of Eugene aside as he and Emery enjoyed a weekend playing all the games they wanted. Once, Emery suggested they call and invite Eugene to play, but Philip pointed out that Eugene wasn’t talking to anybody in school. Emery knew it was true, so he gave up his idea. On Monday, however, Eugene didn’t show up to class on time. When he did arrive, he gave his classmates the biggest shock they’d had all year.

Chapter Nine

“Wow!” George cried. He sat near the classroom door and noticed Eugene first. His wow made everyone look his way, and a wave of astonishment swept across the room. Eugene, looking as if he’d rather by anywhere else on Earth, walked into the room accompanied by Mr. Greif. Philip slunk down in his seat, hoping Eugene didn’t look his way. “Cool!” came another boy’s voice. Two boys got out of their seats without asking and went to meet Eugene. Four other boys and two girls quickly followed them. “Now, now, now,” Mr. Greif said. “Go back to your seats, please. I want to talk to the class.” Ms. Moy stood by, leaning quietly against her desk. When the class quieted, Mr. Greif said, “We’ve found out our friend Eugene has a bit of a hearing problem.” Philip wished he were about one inch tall so he could crawl inside his desk and hide behind his Social Studies book. “To help him with his problem, we’ve provided him with the little gadget you see.” The gadget was what everyone had been staring at since Eugene entered the room. On Eugene’s head sat the coolest pair of headphones anyone in the class had ever seen. They were made even cooler by his wearing them right there in class. In his hands he carried some strange kind of box. Mr. Greif reached over to Eugene and took something small from him. “This is the microphone Ms. Moy will wear when she talks to the class. Ms. Moy.” Ms. Moy took the tiny microphone from Mr. Greif and clipped it to the top of her blouse.

“Now, say something into the microphone,” Mr. Greif said. “Welcome back to class, Eugene,” Ms. Moy said with a big smile. Eugene’s eyebrows shot up. “Too loud?” Mr. Greif asked. “A little,” Eugene answered. “The box you’re holding has a volume control. See if you can find it.” The class sat hypnotized, watching Eugene inspect the black box. “I found it,” he said. “Say something, Ms. Moy,” Mr. Greif suggested. “Eugene, you adjust the volume until it’s comfortable for you.” Ms. Moy began to recite the alphabet. Eugene fiddled with the knob. “It’s okay now.” Mr. Greif said, “We’re also working on getting Eugene a hearing aid he can use when he’s outside of school, so he doesn’t miss a single thing his friends say to him.” Mr. Greif turned serious. “I want to say one more thing. I don’t expect anyone in this class to tease Eugene about this machine or say anything that might make him feel bad.” Tease him! Most of the kids in the class sat wondering how they could get a gadget themselves. Tommy spoke up, bold enough to ask for one. “No, Tommy,” Mr. Greif explained. “These are not for everyone. Actually, they’re not for anyone here, except Eugene.” That ended the discussion and, after giving Eugene a pat on the shoulder, Mr. Greif left the room. “Take your seat now, Eugene,” Ms. Moy said, “and the rest of you can take out your James and the Giant Peach.”

Everyone’s eyes stayed on Eugene as he returned to his desk. Finally, they dug into their own desks for their copy of the book. Philip dug deepest of all, getting as low as he could until Eugene ed him. “Today,” Mrs. Moy said, “I think we’ll let Eugene read first. Would you like to read first, Eugene?” Eugene did not say Huh? He heard every word Ms. Moy said. He nodded, opened to the correct page, and read.

Chapter Ten

Later, at three o’clock, Philip waited in the schoolyard until he was certain Eugene was well on his way toward home. He didn’t want to hear what he knew Eugene would surely say to him. He never meant to cause this trouble for Eugene, but now he had to wear that wild contraption all the time in school. Everybody would be looking at him. How Eugene must hate him! Philip had once heard his father talk about being mortified at work over something he did. He’d asked him what mortified meant. “Embarrassed,” his father explained. “So embarrassed that you want to disappear from the planet.” Well, that’s how Philip felt now. He felt mortified at having caused so much trouble for Eugene, and he guessed Eugene felt mortified at having to wear his headphones and sit with a black box on his desk. Maybe even Ms. Moy was mortified by having to wear a microphone on her shirt. Philip felt he’d mortified the whole world. That night he told his father about his day in school. “Well, Philip, it’s probably going to help him in the long run. Somewhere, somehow, in some way, Eugene would eventually have had to face the problem with his hearing. How many years could the poor guy go through life not knowing what was going on?” Philip nodded and went up to his room. He figured his father would say something like that. He understood, and his father was probably right, but still… Now he’d have to avoid Eugene for the rest of his life. At least for the rest of the week, Philip did just that. He even avoided Emery, afraid Eugene might have told him what he thought of Philip, and Emery would along Eugene’s opinion. Philip didn’t want to hear it. By Friday afternoon, though, Philip had had enough of being alone. He caught

up to Emery in the schoolyard, and they walked home together. “What’s wrong?” Emery asked, once they were on their way. “I called you twice last night, but your mother said you didn’t want to talk on the phone. You sit like a statue in school. I didn’t see you at lunch once this week.” Philip cleared his throat and told Emery the whole story. “Wow! It’s your fault Eugene has to wear that thing? Could you tell Ms. Moy I can’t hear? I’d like to sit with headphones on every day like Eugene.” “You must be crazy.” “No. He looks so cool sitting there like he’s getting messages from outer space. And if the teacher’s being boring, he can turn down the volume.” “Uh-oh.” Philip stopped. All week he had taken the long way home so he wouldn’t have to Eugene’s house. Walking with Emery today, though, they’d gone straight home, and now they saw Eugene on his front lawn, tossing a ball into the air and catching it. “Don’t you want to see him?” Emery whispered. “Oh, what am I whispering for? He can’t hear us.” Eugene stopped tossing the ball and spun to face his two classmates. “I can so hear you.” He tapped his ear. “I got my hearing aids yesterday.” He turned his head, and both boys saw something stuck inside his hear. Then he turned the other way, and they saw another something stuck in his other ear. Philip didn’t know what to say. “Where have you been all week?” Eugene asked, looking at Philip. “I waited for you every day.” Philip shrugged. He had no idea what to say. “Are you mad at me?” Eugene asked. “Mad at you!” Philip exclaimed.

“Yeah, ’cause I threw your game and ran out of your house. Is that why you won’t play with me anymore?” Emery laughed. “Philip thought you were made at him.” Eugene looked down. “I used to be, but I’m not now.” “You’re not?” Philip said. Eugene shrugged and shook his head. “You said you hated me, and I thought you still did,” Philip explained. Eugene shrugged again. “I was mad but… but it’s… it’s a lot better now… you know.” “Hearing?” Emery asked. “Yeah, hearing. School is way easier.” He tapped his ears. “These work great, I can watch television now.” “You couldn’t watch TV before?” Emery said. “I watched, but I couldn’t hear much unless I turned the volume way up, and then my mom would yell at me to turn it down.” “Why didn’t you tell your mom you couldn’t hear?” Philip asked. Another shrug from Eugene. “I don’t know. I didn’t want her to send me to doctors and everything. Do I look funny in school?” “You look totally cool!” Emery assured him. “Everybody wishes they had headphones, same as you.” “You want to try them on Monday?” Eugene asked. “Yeah! Can I?” Emery cried. Philip hoped Eugene would extend the invitation to him, too. “Yeah. Ms. Moy said it might be a good idea to let the rest of the class see what

it sounds like.” “Can I, too?” Philip put in with some little embarrassment. “Sure. Where were you both going?” “My house,” Philip said. “Want to come?” “Let me go tell my mom.” Eugene ran inside the house. “Man, I get to wear the headphones Monday,” Emery bubbled. “Me, too.” “Well, me first. He asked me first.” “All right. All right.” Eugene raced up to them. “Okay. I can go.” The boys continued down the street to Philip’s house.

~ * ~ That night as Philip lay on the floor watching television, his mother called him from upstairs telling him it was time for his bath. He checked the clock. His show wasn’t over for another ten minutes, so he ignored his mother’s summons. “Philip,” his mother called again. “Let’s go. I’m finished with Becky, and now it’s your turn.” Eight more minutes, Philip thought. He moved closer to the television and turned up the sound. He didn’t hear his mother again until she stood right behind him. “Philip, why is the TV so loud? I’ve been calling you.” “Oh, sorry, Mom,” Philip said as the credits at the end of his program rolled across the screen. “I didn’t hear you.”

“You didn’t hear me? Can you hear me now?” “Sure.” “Upstairs for your bath.” Philip gave him mother his best smile. “I didn’t hear you before.” “Maybe I should get you one of those things your friend uses in school.” “He’s going to let me try it in school Monday.” “So he doesn’t hate you after all?” said his father, who’d entered the room. “I guess not,” Philip said as he got to his feet. His father put his arm across Philip’s shoulders. “You did the right thing, kiddo. It wasn’t easy, but you did it. And your Mom and I are proud of you. As always. Now, I believe I heard there’s some bathwater waiting for you.” Philip ran upstairs happy to take a bath; happy at his father’s words; happy all over about the way things had turned out.

The End

Philip Short-Short Stories

Philip Gets a Present

Philip and Emery met on their way to school. “Hi, Emery.” “Ah choo! Ah choo!” “Are you sick?” Philip asked. “No. Not sick. Ah choo! Just a cold. Ah choo! Ah choo!” “You sure? You sound sick.” “Nope, not sick.” “So, you’ll be at my party Saturday?” “Of course, I’ll be there. Ah choo!” Philip had been especially nice to his friends lately so they would give him great birthday presents. And he’d made his mom buy Emery an expensive video game for Emery’s birthday so Emery would be sure to buy something expensive for his.

When Philip awoke on Saturday morning, though, he felt terrible. His throat hurt and his head felt hot. Then, “Ah choo! Ah choo!” Philip panicked. If his mother thought he was sick, she’d cancel his party! No presents, no cake, no candy, no games, and he’d probably have to keep on being nice to his friends and good at home until his mother rescheduled the party. Philip stayed away from his mother all morning and fought hard to fight his

sneezes until his guests began to arrive. The party began, but he didn’t have much fun because he felt so sick. Then, as his mother was about to serve everyone ice cream, Philip threw up all over the table, and his friends went into a panic. When the children stopped screaming, Philip’s mother sent everyone home. Finally, she put Philip to bed. “Let me at least open my presents, Mom,” Philip said weakly. “Not until after you take a nap,” his mother demanded. Philip felt too weak to fight back. When Philip awoke, he felt better, though, and opened his presents. He kept a close eye out for Emery’s, which he hoped would be expensive and really cool, but when he reached the end of his pile, there was no present from Emery. “Is this the last one?” Philip asked in disappointment. “Don’t be greedy,” his mother said. Philip didn’t think he was greedy, but he did feel angry at Emery.

~ * ~ “How’d you like your presents?” Emery asked on Monday at school. Philip thought Emery was teasing him, and he got even angrier at Emery for being so cheap. He threw his former friend an angry look and walked away without talking to him. That night, Philip’s dad came to his room. “I found this behind the sofa.” He handed Philip another present. “It must have fallen there in all the excitement you caused.” Philip inspected it. “It’s from Emery! I thought he didn’t give me anything.” He ripped the paper from the gift. “Wow! A new video game.”

“Looks like Emery gave you two things,” his father said. “Two things? What two things?” Philip asked excitedly. “There’s another present?” “Not exactly, but he did give you two things. A new video game and his cold,” his father said with a laugh. Philip laughed along. “Yeah, I guess he did.” Feeling better than he had in three days, he telephoned Emery to thank him—for the present but not for the cold— glad to know he and Emery were friends again.

Philip Meets Mother Nature

Philip and his best friend, Emery, who lived a short way down the street, looked at the flower seeds their teacher had given them. The assignment: who would grow the best plant? Philip didn’t ever want to let Emery beat him at anything, certainly not something as simple as growing a plant. Emery had already beaten him in the spelling test this week, ninety-five per cent to ninety. And at lunch today Emery’s team beat his in baseball. Philip was determined not to lose at plant-growing, too. How lame would that be? “I’m going to ask my mother for help,” Emery told Philip. “She knows all about gardens.” Philip couldn’t ask his mother about seeds or gardens. She was always busy with the baby. He knew he was on his own. When Philip got home, he inspected his own seed closely. It looked like a tiny feather in his hand. Probably a weed, he thought. He hoped Emery had gotten a weed, too. A worse weed. A way worse weed.

When Philip planted his seed in the little cup of dirt the teacher had provided, he promised himself, “I am not going to let Emery’s plant beat my plant.” After a week ed, he visited Emery and saw how much Emery’s plant had already sprouted!

A few days later, Emery’s plant was two inches tall! When he got back home, he looked at his cup of dirt. “Please, plant, hurry up and grow.”

The next day a tiny, green shoot poked out of the soil. “Yes!” Philip crowed. “Come on. Hurry up and grow.”

The next time he saw Emery’s plant, it was three inches tall! And tomorrow was the day everyone had to bring their plants back to school for inspection! That night Philip tried to help his plant grow. He pulled it up gently and soon it stood a little taller than before. “Come on, plant. That’s how to do it. Grow!” He went to bed happy. The next morning, Philip jumped out of bed and rushed to his plant. He stared in astonishment, then in dismay. The tiny plant lay on its side, dry, wrinkled, and helpless. Philip dressed for school, then ate his breakfast, wondering how he could fix this. Emery’s giant plant against his totally smooshed, dead plant. He’d come in last for plant-growing for sure. As he stepped outside, his failed plant in his hands, he looked over the small flower bed in front of his house. He bent and plucked a bright, yellow flower and stuck it into his cup of dirt.

The teacher started the day with plant-growing reports and called on Philip first. “Philip, how did you get your plant to grow so quickly?” the teacher asked, a funny smile on her face. “That’s quite an accomplishment.” Philip looked at everyone else’s cups and saw little green shoots growing. Emery’s little green shoot stood tallest of all. “Uh, I talked to it?” said Philip shyly. The class laughed.

“You talked to it?” the teacher repeated. “You must really know some magic words because I gave you a zinnia seed, and you have a daffodil in your cup,” said the teacher. Philip’s gaze dropped to the floor as the class giggled. “I wanted mine to grow fast, and I pulled it up,” Philip’s tiny voice explained. “I guess I pulled it too much and it…” “We’ll let you try again, Philip. Use this seed. It’s the fastest growing plant there is. A sunflower. Like Emery’s. I knew his plant would grow the quickest, and you see it has.” Like Emery’s! Then it wasn’t his fault his flower grew slower. Emery had a better seed right from the start. Philip pulled the daffodil from his cup and walked to the teacher. He handed it to her and, smiling, said, “This is for you. And thank you. Thank you very much.”

Philip the Artist

From his bedroom window Philip saw his friend, Emery, walking by. “Hey, Emery. Up here. Where you going?” “Art class. At the playground.” “Art class! Yuck! Sounds like kindergarten. Call me on your way home.” Philip was glad he didn’t have to go to any old art class. He’d much rather stay home and play ball. He picked up his new baseball from the floor, tossed it up, and caught it. He ired the bright, red stitches on it. When Emery got back, they’d play catch, and he’d throw his ball to Emery so hard… CRACK!!! Philip had thrown the ball hard… against his bedroom wall. He walked glumly to the wall and put his fingers into the hole his ball made. Uh-oh, he thought. This is trouble. Trouble he had to find a way out of. But how? First, he carefully cleaned up the broken pieces of wall from the floor. Then he used a wet paper towel to wipe up the white dust the hole had spread around. Next, he moved his chair in front of the hole so the chair back would cover the hole. There, he thought. Safe. Until his mother moved the chair.

~ * ~ “Philip,” Emery called from the sidewalk. Philip ran downstairs and went outside to meet his friend. Emery showed him what he’d done in art class.

“You drew this picture of Superman?” Philip asked with both surprise and iration. “It’s good. Framed even.” “They gave everybody a cardboard frame. Nice, eh?” “Maybe I’ll go to art class with you tomorrow.” The next day Philip did go to art class with Emery. “Look what I drew, Mom,” Philip said when he got home. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. It looks like the daffodil you took to school. ?” Philip tried to forget his adventure with the daffodil and answered, “I’ll hang it in my room so Dad can see it. They even gave us this frame.”

~ * ~ “Nice work, son,” his father said later that evening when Philip showed off his work. “Today you painted a flower. Tomorrow, a fruit and later, who knows, maybe even a person. Art can cover a lot of different things, son.” “We’ll leave it hang there forever, right, Dad?” Philip insisted. His father smiled. “You bet.” As he and his father left the bedroom together, Philip peeked over his shoulder at his daffodil on the wall and knew his father’s words were true. Art certainly could cover a lot of different things.

About the Author

John Paulits is a former elementary school teacher. He has published many novels about the adventures of Philip and Emery, as well as numerous adult novels. Philip and the Boy Who Said, “Huh?” is his twenty-fifth children’s book published by Gypsy Shadow. He lives in New York City and spends each summer at the Jersey shore.

WEBSITE: www.johnpaulits.com FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/john.paulits BLOG: https://johnpaulits.wordpress.com/ OTHER: http://www.manicreaders.com/JohnPaulits/