Give a 'Bot a Bone Read online

  “I will help you, Logan,” Java said. “I always want to help you.”

  “Get your toys here!” I called to the people passing through the park early Sunday morning. “Big toys. Little toys. Toys with one or two arms.”

  I had set up my flea market table near the big pond. It was sunny out—but it wasn’t too hot. It seemed like every kid in town was outside playing.

  Some were throwing balls around.

  Others were going down the slides and pumping on the swings in the playground.

  Still others were playing Frisbee with their dogs.

  A schnauzer came over and grabbed my old stuffed bear that was missing an ear and started carrying it away in its mouth.

  “That will be twenty dollars,” I told him.

  The schnauzer dropped the bear on the ground and ran back toward the path.

  Just then, my best friend Stanley rode over on his bike. He hopped off and pet the schnauzer on the head.

  “What are you doing?” Stanley asked me.

  I looked at him. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” I replied. “I’m selling my toys.”

  “Why?” Stanley asked me.

  Before I could tell him about the broken Snip-De-Frizz, Java came racing over to my table. At least, I thought it was Java. It was hard to tell. He was running so fast he just looked like a big blurry blob.

  “Hello, Logan,” he said.

  “Where have you been?” I asked him.

  “I was finding fleas,” he replied. “They are not so easy to find. Fleas are very tiny.”

  “You were finding what?” I asked.

  “Fleas,” Java repeated. He held up a shoebox with some pinholes poked in the top to let in air.

  “Why would you want to find fleas?” I asked him.

  “We are having a flea market,” Java said, “so we need fleas to sell.”

  “You want us to sell fleas?” I asked him. “We can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Java asked. “These fleas are nice and juicy. I bet we can get ten cents apiece for them.” He opened the box. “See?”

  I looked in the box. “There’s nothing in there.”

  “That can’t be,” Java said. He looked in the box, too. Then he shook his head. “I put them in there. Where could they have gone?”

  I looked across the table. A fuzzy sheepdog was scratching behind his ears. A beagle was itching his belly. The schnauzer who had bit my teddy bear was spinning around on his butt trying to scratch an itch.

  An itch that was probably caused by an escaped flea.

  “I think I know where those fleas went,” I told Java.

  I looked at the dog owners. They did not seem happy.

  But I was thrilled.

  A light bulb had just gone off in my head. Well, not a real light bulb. I’m not a robot. But I did get a great idea. I knew exactly how I was going to earn enough money to buy a new Snip-De-Frizz.

  “Java,” I exclaimed. “You’re a genius!”

  Java nodded. “That is how I was programmed,” he said.

  6.

  A Really Ruff Day

  “Please try to keep Pooky away from other dogs,” Sherry said as she handed me her poodle’s leash after school on Friday afternoon.

  “We don’t want her hanging around any mutt that could have fleas,” Jerry added. “I heard a lot of dogs got fleas in the park last weekend.”

  “You’re looking pretty shaggy there, Logan,” Sherry said. “Are you sure you don’t have fleas?”

  I ran my hand through my hair. It had been almost a week since I’d broken Mom’s Snip-De-Frizz. My bangs were definitely getting shaggy. I didn’t need Sherry to tell me that.

  Still, I gave her a phony smile. “Pooky will not get fleas at the Pampered Puppy Palace,” I assured the Silverspoon Twins.

  I was trying to be nice to the Silverspoons. A guy’s got to be nice to his customers. And for now, Jerry and Sherry were my customers.

  Because the Pampered Puppy Palace was my new business.

  All week long, Java and I had been handing out flyers to everyone we saw—well, at least everyone who had a dog.

  Big dogs.

  Little dogs.

  Hairy dogs.

  Smelly dogs.

  It turned out, a lot of people in town had dogs that needed to be cleaned and walked. And those dogs were all in my backyard, ready for a good grooming.

  We already had ten customers!

  “Now you’re sure you know how to bathe dogs, right?” Sherry asked me.

  “Of course,” I told her. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

  That was a lie. I had never bathed a dog in my life.

  I didn’t have a dog.

  In fact, I had never had a pet before—unless you counted the garden slug I found once. I named him Puddles. But he wasn’t much fun.

  I was actually afraid to ask my mom for a real pet now. Look what happened when I asked her for a brother. She built me a robot cousin instead.

  At the moment, that cousin, Java, was hanging out with some of the dogs—and scratching behind his ear. With his foot. Which was strange. I didn’t think robots could get itchy.

  “Be careful when you walk Pooky,” Jerry told me. “She pulls a little.”

  Sherry giggled. “Yeah. Just a little.”

  I looked at Pooky. She wasn’t a big dog. How hard could she pull?

  “Okay, we’ll see you later,” Jerry said. He and Sherry turned to leave.

  “Yep,” I called to the twins. “See you—“

  WHOA!

  The next thing I knew, Pooky was pulling me across the lawn on my belly.

  For a little dog, she sure was strong. At least, too strong for me.

  But not too strong for a droid!

  “Hey, Java!” I called. “Can you come here and hold on to Pooky? I have to fill the bucket with flea shampoo.”

  “You are going to shampoo fleas?” Java asked as he walked toward me. “I thought we were going to wash the dogs.”

  I didn’t even bother trying to explain it to him. I had too much to do.

  I began filling the giant bucket I’d borrowed from my mom’s lab with shampoo and water.

  I made sure to keep the tub of water far away from Java. He can’t get wet. If he does, his battery will short-circuit. I’d already seen that happen, and I didn’t want a repeat.

  Before I could finish filling the bucket, a Great Dane and a Chihuahua came running over. They knocked the bucket on its side.

  Soapy water spilled all over my pants and my brand-new sneakers.

  The grass around me turned all muddy and slippery.

  “Whoops!” I shouted as I tripped, trying to reach for the Great Dane. “Come back here, Tiny!”

  The hose I was using to fill the bucket was spraying water everywhere. The dogs started running in circles, trying to get away from the water.

  But I wasn’t worried about the dogs.

  “Java, get out of here before you get wet!” I shouted.

  Luckily, Java did as he was told.

  Exactly the way I meant it.

  For once.

  Three hours later …

  All the dogs were washed and flea-free. Now all that was left to do was dry them.

  “Hey, Java!” I called to my cousin. “Can you blow-dry the dogs?”

  Java smiled.

  He took a deep breath. Well, it looked like he did, anyway. Droids don’t actually breathe.

  And then he shouted out, “I can do it!”

  WHOOOOOOOOSH!

  The next thing I knew, Java was blowing the dogs dry—with his mouth.

  Only he wasn’t just blowing a light warm breeze like a hair dryer would.

  He was blowing hard … like a hurricane!

  The Java-strength winds were blowing the dogs all around our yard.

  “STOP!” I shouted to Java. “Stop blowing!”

  Java stopped blowing. And so did the wind.

  Thump.

  Bump.<
br />
  Kerplump.

  The dogs all fell to the ground. They stared up at me.

  I stared down at them.

  They were filthy. Every one of them was covered in leaves and mud. Pooky even had a bird’s nest on her head.

  No customer would ever pay to have his dog look like that.

  And it was too late to give them each another bath.

  Which meant that, thanks to Java, I had done all that work for nothing.

  Again.

  7.

  Where Wolf?

  “Nice hair, Logan.” Sherry Silverspoon said with a laugh as I climbed the steps onto the bus on Monday morning.

  “It looks even worse than Pooky’s hair did after you bathed her,” Jerry added. “All that’s missing is the bird’s nest.”

  “My mom has to take Pooky to a real groomer today,” Sherry told me. “Dad said we should make you pay for it.”

  I gulped. I didn’t know how much a real groomer cost, but I bet it was more than the two dollars and seventeen cents I had saved up.

  “Mom talked him out of it though,” Sherry continued.

  Phew.

  “Hey,” Stanley whispered in my ear, “here she comes.”

  Without even looking, I knew who Stanley meant. Nadine Vardez had just gotten on the bus.

  I moved over in my seat to make room.

  I sat up tall.

  I smiled at her.

  Please sit here. Please sit here, I thought to myself.

  But Nadine stopped where Java was sitting, and sat down next to him.

  “How are you doing, Java?” Nadine asked him.

  “My gears are all oiled and none of my wires are crossed,” Java told her.

  Nadine gave him a funny look.

  “You know my cousin,” I said quickly. “He has a funny way of talking.” I laughed really hard.

  “You’re hilarious,” Nadine told Java.

  “And he’s got a nice haircut,” Sherry pointed out. “Not like his werewolf cousin over there.”

  I frowned. Sure, Java’s hair was perfect. Robot hair doesn’t grow. But of course I couldn’t say that.

  “You better not get too close to Logan, Stanley,” Jerry warned my best friend. “I heard somewhere that werewolves eat kids.”

  “Arooo!” Sherry howled, trying to sound like a werewolf.

  “Arooooooo!” Jerry echoed.

  “Don’t let those two make you feel bad,” Stanley told me. “I’ve seen pictures of my dad when he was in high school. His hair was wild. My mom thought it was cool.”

  I slumped down in my seat. The last person I wanted to look like was Stanley’s dad. Or anybody’s dad.

  I really needed a haircut. But I couldn’t ask my mom to give me one.

  Not until I earned enough money to buy a new Snip-De-Frizz.

  And since I had no idea how I was going to do that, I was going to have to get used to all that howling.

  “Arooooooo!”

  8.

  Bakin’ Bacon

  “Why don’t we ever have any decent snacks around here!” I shouted angrily as I stomped through the kitchen slamming the cabinet doors.

  It had been a rotten day.

  No, not just rotten. Super colossal rotten.

  I had been so busy trying to earn the money to buy the Snip-De-Frizz that I’d forgotten to do my social studies homework over the weekend.

  I missed the free throw in our basketball game during gym class.

  And I spilled milk all over my pants during lunch. Boy, did that stink by three o’clock.

  Right now, all I wanted was a giant stack of cookies and a glass of chocolate milk. But all we had in the fridge was some liver and onions from last night’s dinner, a salmon and soybean salad, leftover meatloaf, and lots and lots of broccoli.

  It’s not easy having a scientist for a mother. She’s always trying to fill me with brain food.

  I didn’t want brain food.

  I wanted junk.

  “What is wrong, Logan?” Java asked me.

  “Those Silverspoons put me in a bad mood,” I explained. “They’re really mean. And spoiled. They wouldn’t have to work this hard to make money. They would just open their piggy banks. For them, this would be a piece of cake!”

  Java gave me a funny smile.

  His eyes bounced up and down in his face.

  Then he yelled out, “I can do it!”

  The next thing I knew, Java had opened the refrigerator door. He stood there for a minute, staring at all the food.

  Then he said, “We do not have a piece of cake,” he said. “Will a piece of meatloaf do?”

  I shook my head.

  “We could bake a cake,” Java said. “And then you could have a piece.”

  I thought about that for a minute.

  Bake a cake. Bake a cake. Bake a …

  “Java” I shouted, “you’re a genius!”

  Java gave me a funny look. “Why do you keep yelling that?” he asked.

  I didn’t answer him. Instead, I asked, “Java, do you have a recipe for chocolate chip cookies in your hard drive?”

  I heard the hard drive in Java’s belly begin to whir. Then he said, “You will need, flour, eggs, butter …”

  As Java rattled off the ingredients, I ran around the kitchen grabbing each item and laying it out on the counter.

  “And chocolate chips,” Java added, finishing the list.

  I looked in the cabinet. No chocolate chips.

  “That stinks!” I said. “How are we supposed to make chocolate chip cookies without any chocolate chips?”

  Java peered into the freezer. “There are bacon bits,” he said. “Would those work?”

  I thought for a minute. “Everybody likes bacon,” I said. “It could be interesting. Like a secret ingredient that only our cookies have.”

  “Are you going to bake cookies now, Logan?” Java asked me.

  Sometimes Java isn’t as smart as he thinks he is. Why else would I have pulled out all those ingredients?

  “Yes,” I told him.

  “Can my friends and I help?” Java asked.

  “Your friends?” I looked around the kitchen. “What friends?”

  “Well, you’ve already looked inside Chilly,” he said.

  I was pretty sure he meant the refrigerator.

  “And we will definitely need Mixy to stir the ingredients,” Java continued. “And when we clean up, Dishy-Washy will know just what to do.”

  I had forgotten that Java’s best friends were our kitchen appliances.

  “Sure,” I told him. “You and your friends can help bake the cookies.”

  9.

  The Great Escape

  “This is the perfect spot!” I said excitedly as I laid out our plates of our bacon chip cookies Tuesday afternoon after school.

  I had set up our bake sale table on Persnickety Plaza, right between the Lights, Camera, Action movie theater and Mr. Waggz’s Pet Shop.

  “People love to eat snacks at the movies,” I explained to Java. “They will buy lots of cookies.”

  “That is a very smart idea, Logan,” Java said.

  I smiled proudly. It feels good when a genius robot calls you smart.

  Just then, a group of teenage kids came walking toward us.

  “Get your cookies here,” I shouted loudly. “Fresh baked cookies.”

  “Did you make these?” one of the teenagers asked me.

  I nodded. “My cousin and I baked them all by ourselves,” I said proudly.

  “Well, not all by ourselves,” Java corrected me. “My friends helped, too. Remember, Mixy stirred the batter and …”

  I clapped my hand over Java’s mouth before he could name any more of his kitchen appliance buddies.

  “We even came up with a secret recipe,” I told the kids. “Try them. They’re fifty cents apiece.”

  “That’s cheaper than snacks at the movies,” one guy said. He handed me a dollar. “I’ll take two.”

  “Me,
too.” His pal handed me another a dollar.

  “I’ll take three,” their friend said. He handed me a dollar and two quarters. I gave him three cookies.

  The first guy took a bite of one of his cookies. He started to chew.

  I stood up tall, waiting for him to say how yummy they were. And to ask what the special ingredient was—which I would never tell him. It was a secret after all.

  The guy chewed a little more. He swallowed. And then he made an awful face.

  “That’s disgusting,” he told me. “What did you put in those things?”

  “Baco—” Java said.

  I clapped my hand over his mouth. “It’s a secret, remember?”

  Java nodded.

  “I want my money back,” the guy said, throwing his other cookie on the ground angrily.

  “Me, too,” his friend said.

  “Me, three,” the other kid said.

  I shook my head. “No backsies,” I said. “You buy it, you own it.”

  The three teenagers glared at me. My knees started to shake. My heart started to pound. A big glob of sweat formed under my nose.

  But I wasn’t giving them back any money.

  “Let’s go, you guys,” one of them finally said. “We’re going to miss the movie.”

  As my first customers walked away, I shrugged. “Clearly they have no taste,” I told Java.

  “They might,” Java replied. He reached over and licked my face.

  “What are you doing?” I asked him.

  “Seeing what a human tastes like,” Java said. “My electronic taste buds are registering salt. And a little ketchup from yesterday’s french fries. Did you forget to wash your face, Logan?”

  “Get off of me,” I grumbled. “That’s not what I meant by taste!”

  I picked up one of the cookies.

  I took a bite.

  And then I spit it out.

  “These are awful!” I exclaimed. “I probably should have tasted them before I started selling them. No one is going to want to eat these things.”

  I frowned and pushed my hair out of my eyes. Another money idea ruined. Just then, a woman with two of the biggest dogs I’ve ever seen walked past my table. She was trying to pull her dogs into Mr.Waggz’s Pet Shop.