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  CHARLIE BUMPERS VS.

  THE PERFECT LITTLE TURKEY

  Bill Harley

  Illustrated by Adam Gustavson

  Published by

  PEACHTREE PUBLISHERS

  1700 Chattahoochee Avenue

  Atlanta, Georgia 30318-2112

  www.peachtree-online.com

  Text © 2015 by Bill Harley

  Illustrations © 2015 by Adam Gustavson

  First trade paperback edition published in 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Edited by Vicky Holifield

  Design by Nicola Simmonds Carmack

  Composition by Melanie McMahon Ives

  The illustrations were rendered in India ink and watercolor.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Harley, Bill, 1954-

  Charlie Bumpers vs. the Perfect Little Turkey / by Bill Harley ; illustrated by Adam Gustavson.

  pages cm

  978-1-56145-764-9 (ebook)

  Summary: “It’s Thanksgiving in the Bumpers household and Charlie has to be the perfect host to his annoying little cousin, Chip”—Provided by publisher.

  [1. Thanksgiving Day—Fiction. 2. Family life—Fiction. 3. Cousins—Fiction. 4. Humorous stories.] I. Gustavson, Adam, illustrator. II. Title. III. Title: Charlie Bumpers versus the Perfect

  Little Turkey.

  PZ7.H22655Cf 2015

  [Fic]—dc23

  2015006621

  This book is dedicated with gratitude to Roberta and Willard Block for their support and love over the years. And for all the Thanksgiving dinners, too.

  Special thanks to Jane Murphy and Kassie Randall for their careful reading; David McConville for discussions about turkey psychology; Althea Gunning, Gary Gunning, Richard Gunning, Vince Fleming, and Dennis Langley for their input on Jamaican speech; and as always—to Vicky Holifield for her fine editing and Debbie Block for everything else.

  Contents

  1—Holy Moly!

  2—Fooled Again

  3—Sometimes Grown-ups Are Completely Clueless

  4—My Dumb Family

  5—A Special Assignment

  6—Already Driving Me Bonkers

  7—The Loudest Whistle in the World

  8—Rocket Propulsion

  9—A Long Day

  10—Extremely Tired of Waiting

  11—A Rocket? On T’anksgiving?

  12—Steam Coming Out of Her Ears

  13—We Are Ever Vigilant

  14—What on Earth Do You Think You’re Doing?

  15—You Mean P-a-i-n

  16—B-A-R-P-H

  17—Whoops!

  1

  Holy Moly

  Bumpers passes the ball up the field! The wing passes it back to Bumpers! He takes the ball on the run and puts it between the defender’s legs. Unbelievable! The defender loses his shorts!

  Bumpers on the left. He sees an open man! A perfect looping pass! This kid is only in fourth grade, but no one can stop him!

  It comes back to Bumpers! The goalkeeper comes out! Bumpers lets go! A huge foot!

  BAM!

  Goal! Goal! Goooooaaaaaal! The crowd goes wild! Bumpers pumps his fist. They win the championship! Bumpers kicks the ball into the crowd!

  BAM!

  He rips off his shirt and throws it to the fans!

  I’m not supposed to kick the ball against the garage door because once I broke one of those little windows across the top. But that was a year ago, and I’m a lot better at kicking now. Anyway, Mom was out grocery shopping and Dad was in the basement. Charlie Bumpers, ace striker, was safe.

  I danced around and pumped my arms in the air, celebrating my victory.

  Matt, my older brother, stuck his head out the back door. “Hey, genius!” he called. “You’re not supposed to kick the ball against the garage.”

  “I’m not hurting anything,” I said.

  “You’re going to get caught,” he warned, “and I won’t defend you.”

  “Thanks!” I yelled.

  “What a turkey,” he said, then went back inside.

  “You’re the turkey!” I yelled, just as my little sister Mabel stepped out onto the back porch. My dad calls her “Squirt,” but I call her “the Squid.” It’s funnier.

  “I’m not a turkey,” she said. “And your shirt is on the roof.”

  I looked up, and there it was, hanging off the edge. I kicked the ball again.

  BAM!

  “I’m telling!” the Squid yelled.

  Just then, Mom pulled in the driveway.

  I started dribbling the soccer ball between my feet, like I hadn’t done anything wrong.

  “Charlie’s kicking the ball against the door!” the Squid shouted as Mom turned off the motor. “And he’s not wearing his shirt!”

  What a traitor!

  I grabbed the rake leaning by the garage door and snagged my shirt off the roof.

  I put it on just as Mom got out of the car. “Your dad and I told you not to kick the ball at the garage door,” she said, frowning. “Please come help me with the groceries.”

  I gave the Squid a dirty look and kicked the ball against the garage one more time, but not as hard.

  BAM!

  “Charlie!” Mom shouted.

  “He’s kicking the b-a-l-l,” my sister said.

  The Squid had just learned to read, and she’d started spelling everything out like she was a human dictionary.

  I lifted two of the heavy grocery bags out of the trunk and followed Mom up the back steps into the kitchen. She’d bought tons of food for Thanksgiving dinner.

  There are lots of good things about Thanksgiving. Like no school. And my grandparents coming. And the stuffing my mom makes. And the rolls my grandmother always brings, which are the absolute best food on the planet. But this year was going to be even better because on Thanksgiving evening a Buck Meson special was showing on TV.

  Buck Meson, Detective from Andromeda, is my absolute favorite superhero. He has his own TV show and he’s got this electron stare that paralyzes bad guys in their place so they can’t move.

  I know he’s not real, but he should be. That would mean electron stares are real, and I would have many uses for them. Like paralyzing brothers and sisters.

  When Mom and I had finished unloading the groceries from the car, our dog Ginger sniffed at the bags we’d left on the floor, looking for something to eat. Dad came up from the basement. “Wow,” he said, looking at all the overflowing bags. “Is there anything left at the supermarket?”

  “I asked Mrs. Walcott if she wanted to come for Thanksgiving,” Mom said, ignoring my dad’s joke. “She’s going to be alone, so I thought it would be nice.”

  My mom’s a visiting nurse. She goes to people’s homes if they can’t get to the doctor’s office. Mrs. Walcott has been one of her patients a long time, and I’ve even visited her house with my mom.

  “Uh-oh,” Dad said.

  “What?” Mom asked.

  “Well, I thought we were going to invite the Gritzbachs this year.”

  Oh no, I thought. Not the Gritzbachs! Mr. and Mrs. Gritzbach are our neighbors. Mr. Gritzbach’s kind of grumpy and can’t stand our dog Ginger.

  “I know,” Mom said, “but I decided to ask Mrs. Walcott instead. She’ll be completely alone if we don’t have her over here.”

  “Hmmm.” Dad looked worried. “I just invited the
Gritzbachs.”

  “Oh jeez, Jim! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’m sorry. I ran into them while I was taking a walk this morning,” Dad said. “Their son is spending the holiday with his wife’s family, so they were going to be by themselves.”

  “What are we going to do?” Mom asked.

  “Well, I don’t think we can disinvite them,” he said.

  “Of course not. But where are we going to put everybody?” Mom grabbed the notepad and pencil we keep by the phone and sat down at the kitchen table.

  She started making a list of everyone who was coming. There was our family, which included my mom and dad, me, Matt, and the Squid. Then there were my mom’s parents, Pops and Gams.

  “Don’t forget the Gritzbachs,” Dad said.

  “And Mrs. Walcott,” I added.

  “And Sarah and Brandon and Chip,” Mom said. “And Tilly.”

  Brandon and Sarah are my uncle and aunt. My cousin Chip is a year older than the Squid and two years younger than me, and he can be extremely annoying. Especially to me. Tilly’s his new baby sister. Her real name is Matilda.

  “Holy moly,” Mom said. “That makes fourteen people.”

  “Wow,” Dad said. “I hope you bought a really big turkey.”

  “Turkey begins with a t,” the Squid explained to everyone.

  Dad’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. “It’s Ron,” he said, walking out of the kitchen. “I’d better answer.”

  Ron’s my dad’s brother. Uncle Ron is the greatest.

  “I wonder if we’ll have enough food?” Mom said. “Maybe I should bake an extra pie.” She scribbled some notes on the piece of paper while the Squid looked over her shoulder, trying to read the words.

  “Mom, you don’t write very neatly,” the Squid observed.

  Dad came back in the kitchen. “Guess what.”

  “What?” Mom asked.

  “Ron broke up with his girlfriend, and he doesn’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving.” Dad paused.

  “And?” Mom asked.

  “I invited him here,” Dad said with a guilty look on his face. “I had to.”

  “You think he wants to stay for the entire weekend?” she asked.

  “Probably.”

  I love Uncle Ron, but I know he kind of drives Mom crazy. Once when he was here for a few days, I heard her tell my dad it was like having another kid in the house.

  I didn’t see anything wrong with having another kid in the house. If it was Uncle Ron.

  Matt walked in. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re having fifteen people for Thanksgiving,” I said.

  “No way!” Matt chortled. “That’s a lot.”

  The Squid was still peering over Mom’s shoulder, looking at the pad of paper. “I see the number 15,” she said. “But what’s that?” She pointed at something on the paper. “Those squiggly letters right there. What do they say?”

  Mom didn’t answer. Matt looked over Mom’s other shoulder and started to laugh.

  “What’s it say? What’s it say?” the Squid squeaked, which she does when she gets excited.

  Matt laughed. “It says, ‘too many!’”

  “You got that right,” Dad agreed.

  Personally, I could think of one easy way to shorten the guest list: Have my cousin Chip stay home.

  2

  Fooled Again

  Monday morning Mrs. Burke, my fourth grade teacher, handed out dictionaries so we could look up the definitions of the ten words she’d written on the board. They all had something to do with Thanksgiving. You know, words like “gratitude,” “holiday,” and “pilgrim.” When we were finished, she said, “Now, for your homework assignment.”

  Somebody groaned.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Burke said, “it is time for all of the citizens in Mrs. Burke’s Empire to do their duty cheerfully—or suffer the consequences.”

  Mrs. Burke talks like that all the time. It’s her way of being funny.

  Ha ha ha.

  “Tonight,” she went on, “you are to write your own definition for a particular word. The word is ‘family.’”

  “That’s easy!” Sam Marchand blurted out.

  POW!

  Mrs. Burke snapped her exploding fingers. She has the loudest fingers on planet Earth. In Mrs. Burke’s Empire, you’re supposed to raise your hand before you speak.

  “Sorry,” Sam said.

  “Okay then, Sam. What is a family?” she asked.

  “Your mom and dad and sisters and brothers,” Sam answered.

  “What about grandparents?” Mrs. Burke asked.

  “Well, yeah,” Sam said. “Them, too.”

  Alex MacLeod had his hand raised. Mrs. Burke called on him.

  “I don’t have any brothers or sisters,” Alex said. “So they’re not in my family.”

  Josh Little put up his hand.

  “Yes, Josh?” Mrs. Burke said.

  “Aunts and uncles … and cousins.”

  “Oooh, oooh, oooh!” Samantha Grunsky, who sits behind me, waved her hand in the air like she was going to die if someone didn’t call on her.

  “Go ahead, Samantha,” Mrs. Burke said. “Don’t injure yourself.”

  Samantha cleared her throat in her bossy way. “In science, a family is a group of species that have something in common.”

  Samantha Grunsky always seems to know everything, and she’s happy to remind you of that.

  “Yes, Samantha, that is one definition of family.”

  “Wait!” Joey Alvarez called out.

  Mrs. Burke held her fingers up to snap them, but Joey quickly raised his hand.

  “Um … what if you’ve got pets?” he asked. “Aren’t they in your family?”

  Mrs. Burke smiled. “What do you think, class?”

  Everyone started shouting out their opinions. Mrs. Burke let us argue for a while, then—POW!—she let go with another one of her deafening finger snaps.

  Mrs. Burke called on Ellen Holmes next.

  “A lot of kids live with just one parent,” Ellen said. “And what about my friend who lives with one parent part of the time and the other parent the rest of the time?”

  We all started arguing again. Finally Mrs. Burke called out, “That’s enough, class. It sounds like there are a lot of different ways to describe a family. So tonight, I’d like you to come up with your own definition. And I want you to be prepared to defend it in class tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Burke was sneaky. She’d fooled us again. She had gotten all of us interested in something, and now we had to write about it. What a horrible way to ruin a perfectly good learning experience.

  3

  Sometimes Grown-ups Are Completely Clueless

  That night at dinner, each of us shared something that had happened that day. The Squid told how this girl in her class lost her tooth at home but it fell down the sink and her parents had to call the emergency plumber to save the tooth so she could put it under her pillow for the tooth fairy.

  “That’s a very expensive tooth,” Dad observed.

  “But Tanya only gets a dollar,” the Squid said.

  “A lot less than the emergency plumber,” Dad said. “Well, Matt. Any big news to report?”

  Matt told about this kid named Thad in his English class who did a presentation about an author. Thad had dressed up like the author and pretended to be him. Then, in the middle of the presentation, he’d fallen over, twitched a few times, and pretended to die right on the classroom floor. “Mrs. Cummings ran over and asked him if he was okay,” Matt said. “Thad sat up and told her that the author had died very young. It was brilliant!”

  “I guess it’s dangerous being an author,” Dad said. “What about you, Charlie?”

  “Today in class we had to look up definitions for a bunch of words. For homework, I have to write a definition of the word ‘family.’”

  “I assume you will describe your excellent older brother,” Matt said.

&nb
sp; “Ha ha ha,” I said.

  “I’m in your family,” the Squid announced. “Family: f-a-m …” She looked over at Mom.

  “The next letter is i,” Mom prompted.

  “That’s what I was going to say,” the Squid declared. “Family: f-a-m-l-i-y.”

  “Close enough,” Dad said.

  “That reminds me,” Mom said. “With so many people coming for Thanksgiving, our whole family is going to have to work together.”

  “Your mom’s right,” Dad added. “It’s our job to be good hosts, so I expect everyone here to be helpful … and flexible.”

  “Of course,” Matt said. “Flexible is my middle name.”

  “Your middle name is Arthur,” the Squid said.

  “Don’t remind me,” Matt said.

  “And that brings me to the next point,” Mom went on. “Aunt Sarah and Uncle Brandon and Tilly are going to stay at the Village Inn with Pops and Gams. But they’d like Chip to stay here.”

  She paused for a second and gave me a little smile.

  I didn’t like that little smile. It meant something.

  “Chip’s a very nice boy,” Mom said. “And I think he’s grown up a lot. Sarah says his teacher calls him ‘the perfect little gentleman.’”

  Perfect little turkey, I said to myself. Even though the adults don’t seem to realize it, Chip is a turkey. His real name is Brandon, but that’s also his dad’s name, so everyone calls him “Chip.” He’s a giant pest. Last summer we spent three days with their family at a lake house, and every time I turned around he was right there, buzzing around like a little gnat, telling me what to do, and saying he could do it better. Even though he couldn’t.

  I had tried to be nice to him, but it’s hard to be nice to someone who drives you bonkers. My mom told me he followed me around because he wanted to be just like me, and said I should be patient.

  Sometimes grown-ups are completely clueless. Even mothers.

  “So, he’s going to have to sleep in someone’s room,” Mom said.

  “He could sleep on the fold-out couch,” I suggested. The family room was a long way from my room.

  “I think Uncle Ron will be sleeping on the couch,” Dad said.