Contents
Title Page
Dedication
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3
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18
Sneak Peek
About the Author
Also Available
Copyright
Prrrrr-ip! Prrrrr-ip!
Oggie Cooder fluttered his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He always did that when he was excited about something.
“Check it out, Turk,” he cried happily. “Look who just got invited to Donnica Perfecto’s birthday party. Can you believe it?”
Oggie’s dog, Turk, loved to eat paper. So when Oggie proudly held out the invitation he’d just received in the morning mail, Turk misunderstood and thought he was being offered a snack. In two quick bites the invitation disappeared.
“Hey!” Oggie laughed. “You were supposed to read it, not eat it!”
Turk, whose full name was Turkey-on-Rye (like the sandwich), burped and wagged his tail.
Oggie finished eating his breakfast and carried his empty cereal bowl over to the sink to rinse it out. Looking out the window, he saw Donnica Perfecto coming out of her house, her bubblegum-pink backpack slung over one shoulder. Mrs. Perfecto, in a long flowered bathrobe and hair curlers, followed after her daughter. She looked nervous.
“Don’t worry, Cupcake!” she called. “Everything’s going to be fine on Saturday. Just fine.” Then she blew a kiss and waved, but Donnica only glared at her and marched off.
Grabbing his own backpack, Oggie made a quick pit stop at the fridge for a few slices of processed American cheese, which he slipped into his back pocket for later. He gave Turk a good-bye pat on the head and raced out the door.
“Hey, Donnica! Wait up!” Oggie cried as he ran down the front steps.
Ever since his aunt Hettie had taught him how to crochet, Oggie had been making his own shoelaces. The night before, he’d crocheted himself a new pairing — orange and green, one of his favorite color combinations. Oggie thought they went nicely with the new blue-and-yellow-checked pants his mother had brought home from the store for him that week. Unfortunately one of the shoelaces was a little too long, and when the end of it caught on a loose nail on the steps, Oggie went tumbling head over heels into the bushes. Luckily he wasn’t hurt, but by the time he pulled himself together, brushed the leaves out of his hair, and retied his shoelace in a double bow, Donnica had rounded the corner and was out of sight.
Oggie finally caught up with her in the schoolyard at Truman Elementary.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Oggie panted, holding his side and trying to catch his breath, “but I have about a bazillion questions I need to ask you.”
“What’s the matter with you, Oggie Cooder?” Donnica snarled as she spun around on her heel to face him. “Can’t you see I’m having the worst day of my life?”
Now that she mentioned it, Oggie did notice that Donnica’s eyebrows were scrunched down and bunched together in a knot over the top of her pointy little nose. And her shiny pink gloss-covered lips, which were usually turned up in a self-satisfied smirk, were pulled down at the corners in an unhappy pout.
Oggie hated to see people upset. Even Donnica Perfecto, who wasn’t very nice to him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked with genuine concern.
“You mean besides the fact that those pants you’ve got on are so hideous they’re giving me a headache?” Donnica said.
“Maybe you should ask the school nurse for an aspirin,” said Oggie. He didn’t realize that Donnica’s head wasn’t really hurting, she was just making fun of his pants.
“Aspirin isn’t going to fix what’s wrong with my life,” Donnica complained.
“What’s wrong with your life?” Oggie asked, surprised. It seemed to him Donnica Perfecto had a pretty great life. For one thing, she had a swimming pool in her backyard. When Oggie felt hot, the only way he had to cool off was to run through the sprinkler.
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with my life,” Donnica grumbled. “Because of my father and his stupid, boring old store, my whole birthday party is ruined.”
Mr. Perfecto owned the largest appliance store in Wawatosa, Wisconsin. Walk into any house in town, chances were that the microwave in the kitchen and the television in the den had been purchased from Big Dealz. Any house, that is, except Oggie’s. Mr. and Mrs. Cooder believed that microwave ovens and televisions — not to mention marshmallows, air fresheners, and milk sold in plastic jugs — were all bad for your brain cells.
“Are you planning to have your party at your dad’s store?” asked Oggie, who hadn’t had time to study the details of the invitation before Turk had eaten it.
Donnica heaved an exasperated sigh.
“Why would anybody have a birthday party in an appliance store?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Oggie shrugged. “If I had a swimming pool like yours, I’d have my birthday party there.”
The Perfectos lived directly across Tullahoma Street from the Cooders, and although Oggie had never been in their beautiful sky-blue kidney-shaped swimming pool, Turk had jumped in once, uninvited, after managing to get loose one day.
“Obviously, I’m going to have a pool party,” said Donnica. “I always have a pool party. But I already told everybody that this year was going to be different. I told them there would be a big surprise. Who’s going to want to come to a plain old ordinary pool party now?”
“I will!” cried Oggie, who had never been invited to any of Donnica’s parties before.
Oggie undid the strings on his backpack and pulled out a plastic bag filled with dried apricots.
“Want one?” he asked Donnica.
“Ewww,” she said, turning up her nose at the apricots. “They’re brown.”
“That’s ’cause they’re from the health food store. My mom says the orange ones you get at the grocery store have a ton of chemicals in them that can ruin your brain cells.”
Donnica ignored him and went back to her whining.
“It’s just not fair,” she said. “Why does Daddy’s big promotion for his store have to be on the same day as my party? Why didn’t he listen to me when I told him what I wanted? It’s my birthday. I’m supposed to get everything I want for my birthday. That’s the rule.”
This seemed like the perfect opportunity for Oggie to ask Donnica the most important of the bazillion questions he had for her.
“What do you want for your birthday?” he said. “I want to get you something that you’ll really, really like because I’m really, really happy that you invited me to your party. Actually, I’m not really, really happy. Prrrrr-ip! Prrrrr-ip! I’m more like really, really, really —”
“I get the point,” Donnica interrupted. Oggie Cooder was more annoying than a broken fingernail.
The big red doors of Truman Elementary School swung open and students began filing into the building to begin the day.
“So anyway,” said Oggie, trotting along next to Donnica as they started up the steps of the school, “can you think of something I could give you for your birthday?”
Donnica was about to tell Oggie to get lost and quit bothering her, when a lightbulb suddenly went on over her head. Actually there was something she wanted Oggie to give her for her birthday! Something Donnica had been wanting from the moment Mrs. Perfecto had made her write Oggie’s name on one of her bubblegum-pink party invitations. Donnica wanted Oggie Cooder NOT to come to her party. And as anyone who knew
her would tell you, Donnica Perfecto was really good at getting what she wanted.
Really, really, really good.
Oggie didn’t have time to think about Donnica’s birthday party anymore that morning. He had to work on a history report, which was due the following week. The topic he’d chosen for his report was famous inventors, which was no big surprise since Inventor was among the top ten things Oggie thought he might like to be when he grew up.
In the library, Oggie found a book called Whose Idea Was It? that looked promising. He sat down, opened it up to the table of contents, and began to run his finger down a list of famous inventors.
Alexander Graham Bell
George Washington Carver
Thomas Edison
Henry Ford
Benjamin Franklin
Samuel Morse
Elisha Otis
Oggie stopped.
“Who’s Elisha Otis?” he wondered aloud. He flipped through the pages until he found the chapter describing how, in 1854, Elisha Otis had demonstrated the new elevator he had invented by ascending to a dizzying height in front of a crowd of people at a state fair and then having his assistant cut the ropes to prove that the brakes he had fashioned out of two wagon springs would keep the elevator from plummeting to the ground.
“Prrrrr-ip! Prrrrr-ip!” Oggie found that very exciting.
Donnica, who was sitting at a nearby table, gave Oggie a dirty look.
“Must you make that annoying sound?” she whined.
“I can’t help it,” Oggie told her excitedly. “I never knew who invented elevator brakes before.”
“Shhh,” said Ms. Hepper, the school librarian, pressing a long pale finger to her lips. “Do I need to remind you that the library is a quiet place, Oggie?”
“Sorry,” Oggie whispered apologetically.
As Oggie turned the pages of the book, he was fascinated to learn about all kinds of interesting and important things people had invented over the years. Steam engines and telegraphs, ice-cream makers and electronic cow-milkers. The more he read, the more convinced he became that being an inventor would be a great profession for him. He hoped he could be like Elisha Otis and invent something as useful as elevator brakes.
At 11:45, Ms. Hepper announced to the students in the library that they had ten minutes left to finish up. Oggie carried his book over to the circulation desk to check it out.
“Necessity is the mother of invention,” whispered Ms. Hepper with an approving nod as she ran the scanner over Oggie’s book.
“Excuse me?” said Oggie.
“I believe it was Plato who said it,” she told him.
Oggie had never heard of the great philosopher Plato. In fact, he’d misunderstood Ms. Hepper completely and thought that she had said “Plano,” which was a town in Texas Oggie knew about because his uncle Vern had once ridden on a pig in a rodeo competition there.
“It means that the main reason things get invented is because people feel a need to have them,” Ms. Hepper explained.
Oggie thought about that for a second and decided it made a lot of sense, though he wasn’t sure what it had to do with Plano, Texas.
When he got back to his classroom, Oggie stashed his library book in his desk, grabbed his lunch, and headed down to the cafeteria, or — as some of the kids at Truman liked to call it — the Barf-eteria. Amy Schneider was waiting for Oggie when he got there.
“Who invented braces?” Oggie asked as he plopped himself down in his usual spot across the table from Amy.
Amy and Oggie were friends. Not boyfriend and girlfriend, just friends who happened to be a boy and a girl. Amy didn’t mind that Oggie said prrrrr-ip! when he was excited about something, and Oggie didn’t mind that Amy was shy and had a mouth so full of braces and rubber bands that it was sometimes hard to understand her when she spoke. Amy had to remove her rubber bands whenever she ate, and she was just finishing up the process when Oggie arrived.
“I don’t know who invented braces,” she said, dropping the last of the tiny green rubber bands onto the neat little pile she had made on her napkin. “But whoever it was must be rich. My parents told me that with all the money they’ve spent on straightening my teeth, they could have bought a brand-new car.”
“I bet you could make a car out of all that metal in your mouth,” said Oggie. “And you could use the rubber bands to make the tires.”
Amy giggled and took a nice, big, rubber-band-free bite of her tuna fish sandwich.
Meanwhile, across the cafeteria at a round table in a prime spot near the window, Donnica Perfecto was about to deliver the bad news to her friends, Dawn and Hannah.
“My birthday party is going to be a disaster,” she said. “And I’m talking a total disaster.”
“I thought you told us there was going to be a big surprise,” said Dawn.
“Yeah, remember you said it was going to be the biggest surprise ever?” Hannah reminded her.
“Well, it’s not happening,” Donnica reported.
“But you’ve been talking about it for weeks!” Hannah pressed. “You said this was going to be your best —”
“I know what I said,” snapped Donnica. “But it’s not happening. Read my lips: TOTAL DISASTER. Got it?”
“At least tell us what the surprise was going to be,” Hannah said.
“Trust me. You don’t want to know,” Donnica replied as she pulled the lid off her Peachy-Keen-O-flavored yogurt, licked it, and then handed it to Hannah, who took it from her without a word.
Donnica Perfecto didn’t “do” garbage. When she had something that needed to be thrown out, she simply handed it to Hannah or Dawn and they took care of it for her. Hannah took the sticky yogurt lid and placed it next to her own banana peel and crumpled napkin.
“Come on,” Dawn begged. “Tell us what the surprise was going to be.”
Donnica took a bite of yogurt, then set her spoon down.
“Okay,” she finally agreed, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’re going to be totally bummed out when I tell you who was almost going to be the entertainment at my party.”
Dawn and Hannah looked at Donnica expectantly.
“Tell us already,” Hannah urged.
Donnica took a deep breath before answering —
“Cheddar Jam.”
Dawn and Hannah were so stunned their mouths fell open in simultaneous shock.
“Cheddar Jam?” Hannah managed to croak.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Dawn gasped in amazement. “Were they really going to play at your party?”
Donnica groaned and covered her face with both hands.
Cheddar Jam (a rock band named in honor of one of Wisconsin’s most important contributions to the world — cheddar cheese) was made up of four very cute and somewhat musical local high school boys. They’d made quite a splash at Truman Elementary when they’d played at the Valentine Dance earlier that year.
“I told you you’d be bummed out,” said Donnica.
“That’s the understatement of the century,” Hannah told her.
“Why aren’t they coming?” Dawn asked.
“Because Daddy totally blew it,” Donnica said bitterly. “He told me he was going to get somebody good to entertain at the store in the morning and then pay them extra to come over to my party afterward. So I told him to get Cheddar Jam. That’s what I said — ‘Daddy, get me Cheddar Jam’ — but did he listen?”
Donnica heaved a heavy sigh and picked up her spoon to take a bite of yogurt, but she changed her mind and pushed the plastic container toward Hannah, who added it to the throwaway pile. The girls were quiet for a minute and then Dawn asked —
“If Cheddar Jam isn’t coming, who did your dad get instead?”
Donnica could barely bring herself to answer.
“Bumbles,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
“What?” cried Hannah in disbelief.
“No way!” said Dawn.
“It’s not m
y fault,” Donnica said defensively. “I told my father to get Cheddar Jam. I can’t help it if he got Bumbles the Juggling Bear instead.”
“Why don’t you do what you did when you wanted a new cell phone?” Dawn suggested.
“Yeah,” said Hannah. “Pitch a fit and tell him if he doesn’t give you what you want, you’re not going to let him walk you down the aisle on your wedding day.”
“Uh, duh. Don’t you think I tried that already? He said it was too late. He already promised Bumbles the job. He said Bumbles told him he’s broke and needs the work.” Donnica groaned and put her head in her hands again.
Over on the other side of the room, Oggie Cooder had somehow managed to spill an entire carton of chocolate milk on the floor. He’d tried to use his sandwich as a sponge to soak up the milk, but that had only made matters worse. On his way over to the lunch counter to get some paper napkins to clean up the mess, he passed near Donnica’s table and figured he’d take the opportunity to ask another of his bazillion important questions about her birthday party.
“Hey, Donnica?” he called to her. “Is it okay if I wear my bathing suit over to your house on Saturday, or should I bring it with me and change into it when I get there?”
For the second time that day, Dawn’s and Hannah’s mouths dropped open in simultaneous shock. Had Donnica actually invited Oggie Cooder to her birthday party?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Donnica told them. “But it wasn’t my idea.”
It was Donnica’s mother who had insisted that Oggie be invited to the party.
“I want you to send an invitation to the Cooder boy across the street,” Mrs. Perfecto had announced one morning as Donnica sat at the table carefully addressing the envelopes for her party invitations.
“You must be joking, Mother. Why would I do that?” asked Donnica.
“He’s our neighbor, Cupcake.”
“So what? He plays with cheese and makes that annoying sound with his tongue all the time. Plus he dresses like he’s from another planet. Yesterday he wore a bow tie to school. A bow tie, Mother.”
“I admit he’s a bit odd,” Mrs. Perfecto had said. “But the Wawatosa Gardening Club is considering me for membership.”