The War with Grandpa (6 page)

This was the nasty part. I took the little clock and turned the alarm arrow so it pointed to three o'clock. I have to tell you that when the arrow went past two o'clock it made such a loud click I almost jumped a foot in the air. Be brave, Secret Warrior, I told myself. Then I pulled out the alarm button on the back of the clock, set down my note smack on top of the dresser where even a blind man could see it, and got myself out of the room in a hurry.

Upstairs I jumped into bed, turned out the light, and settled under the covers to see what was going to happen. In less than an hour, that alarm clock was going to go off, and Grandpa would be awakened in the middle of the night.

Be still my heart.

You know I couldn't fall asleep. It was kind of like waiting for a bomb to go off.

I watched the seconds and minutes flip down on my digital clock-radio. At 2:58 on my clock I heard the alarm clock go off in Grandpa's room downstairs. It sounded like an angry bee buzzing. And it kept buzzing for about a minute. Then I heard Grandpa get out of bed, and the alarm stopped.

Almost holding my breath, I waited. Now Grandpa would find the note. Then what would he do? Ignore me again?

I heard the sound of Grandpa's door opening. Was he coming up here?
Yes!
Now I could hear the creaking of the wooden stairs as his slippered feet came slow and limping upstairs. I got down under the covers and pretended to be asleep.

My door opened. I heard Grandpa come
across and stand next to my bed.“Pete?” he whispered. I kind of groaned a little, like I was asleep and having a dream. Grandpa sat down on the edge of the bed. I felt his hand on my shoulder, shaking me gently. “Pete? Come on, boy, I know you're not sleeping”

“Wha—what?” I said, like I was just coming awake. “Grandpa? Is that you?”

Grandpa reached over and snapped on my reading lamp. I shielded my eyes against the sudden glare. Grandpa's white hair was all mussed and he looked very angry.“Do you know what time it is?” he asked.

“Nighttime?”

“The middle of the night,” he said,
“Mr. Secret Warrior.
It's not funny, Pete. I don't like someone playing tricks on me this way. Especially not my own grandson.”

“It's not a trick,” I said. “It's a war.”

Grandpa shook his head. “Stuff and nonsense is what it is. You don't go to war against kin. You have to have an enemy to have a war, and I'm certainly not your enemy.”

“You got my declaration of war,” I said. “Why didn't you say anything about it?”

“I was kind of thinking it was a joke,” Grandpa said.

“It's no joke,” I said. “You took something of mine and I want it back”

“I didn't
take
anything,” Grandpa said. “Your parents
gave
me your room, Pete.”

“You've still got it, haven't you?” I said.

A funny look crossed Grandpa's face.“By God,” he said, “you got a look on your face just like your mother when she was a kid. I hope you're not as stubborn as she was. She was a holy terror when she didn't get her way.”

“I'm more stubborn,” I said, “especially when I'm right.”

Grandpa sighed, and stared at me for a minute. Then he slowly got to his feet.“Go back to sleep,” he said.“We'll talk about this tomorrow. Which is almost here.” He walked to the door.

“Grandpa,” I called after him and he stopped in the doorway.“I love you,” I said, which made him smile.
“But the war is still on!”

The next morning Grandpa didn't come down to breakfast until almost eleven o'clock. And he wasn't dressed, either, like he usually was. Mom gave him his breakfast of toast and coffee and he sat at the table eating it and reading the newspaper. He didn't even so much as say good morning to me, or anything, even though I was sitting right at the table with him.

On the other hand, he didn't tell Mom anything about what had happened during the night. I was glad about that.

In the afternoon Mom took Jennifer off to buy her some new shoes. I was outside the house, throwing a tennis ball against the front steps, when Grandpa came limping out to the porch. He watched me throw for a while, watched me fumble the ball a few times. “Soft hands,” he said. “You've got to make your hands real soft when you catch a ball, Pete. Yours are
too stiff and hard. Are you nervous about catching it?”

“Sure I am,” I said, “seeing as how I drop it so much.”

Grandpa grinned at that. “Soft hands are the secret, Pete,” he said, then sat down in one of the porch chairs.

I threw some more as Grandpa watched, trying to do what he said. Maybe I caught the ball a little better, I'm not sure.

“Flag of truce?” Grandpa asked.

“What's that?”

“When two warring parties want to meet and talk things out, they put up a white flag of truce and then meet under it and have a powwow. How about it?”

“Okay,” I said, and sat down on a chair next to him. “Does the white flag mean you're surrendering?”

“Certainly not. I just want to tell you a few things, okay?”

“Shoot,” I said. “I mean, let's talk.”

“Look, Peter, this situation is kind of out of my control, if you see what I mean.” Grandpa looked down at his hands, which were big and knobby and had these little brown spots all over. “I didn't want to come up here from Florida and
take your room. No way I wanted to do that. It's just the way things worked out, you understand?”

I nodded.

“I didn't want to retire from my business, for that matter,” Grandpa said. “But when Grandma got sick, that's what I had to do. Didn't want to move to Florida, either, away from all the people I love. And I didn't want Grandma to die. It was lonely, rattling around in that house we had down there. Very lonely. So here I am and I guess you're stuck with me.”

“I understand all that, Grandpa,” I said.

“Good.” He nodded.

“But I still want my room back.”

“Oh, Petey,” he said, kind of shaking his head. “I think maybe you are a little spoiled. Maybe because you've always had everything you want.”

“I want only what's mine,” I said.

“Single-minded,” he said, “just like your mother. Your own room and everything. Let me tell you, when I was a boy I had to sleep in the same
bed
with your uncle Dave. Bad times, Petey, very hard times. We ate spaghetti a lot, and beans, and I never had two nickels to rub together. If I got a penny, it was a big thing. A
penny meant I could go to the store and buy candy. And I sure took a lot of time deciding which candy. Now, look at you and Jenny. Great big house, lots of toys, good clothes, plenty to eat. You don't know about really wanting something, and doing without, do you?”

“I know I want my room. And you've got it.”

“Stub-bor-in,” Grandpa said, stretching the word out. “I think maybe it'll be good for you to do without, Petey. Really, I do.”

“So you're not changing rooms with me?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“Then the flag of truce is over,” I said, getting up.

“Come on,” Grandpa said, “don't be that way. Sit down.”

“I've only got one thing to say,” I told him as I walked off the porch. “Watch out for my second attack.”

What I did was steal Grandpa's slippers.

After dinner, on my way upstairs, I just stopped by my old room and took Grandpa's slippers from the bottom of the closet. I left a little note too. This one was written in Magic Marker on a sheet of notepaper. It said:

I had thought of doing some other tricky things to Grandpa. Like putting a frog in his bed. Or a gerbil. But then I thought maybe the surprise would really get him scared and maybe even give him a heart attack. That can happen to people, you know. Especially old people. They get a nasty shock and bingo—heart-attack
city. I was at war with Grandpa, but I didn't want to kill him.

I went to bed thinking about all that, but before I fell asleep I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Real slow and limpy footsteps.

Grandpa came in and snapped the overhead light on.“Okay,” he said gruffly, “where are my slippers?”

“What slippers?” I said.

“The ones you stole, Petey-boy.” Before I could answer he went over to my closet and opened it. There were his slippers in plain sight, right where yours truly was dumb enough to leave them.“My, my, what have we here?” Grandpa said. “Looks like somebody's slippers.”

He picked them up and looked at me, shaking his head a little like he was disappointed.“Are we all finished with the sneaky tricks now?” he asked.

I didn't answer.

“You think you're one slippery customer, don't you?” he said. “Lots of tricks.”

“Not tricks,” I said.

“Oh, no? What would you call stealing my slippers then?”

“Gorilla warfare.”

Grandpa looked at me, then began to laugh.
That really annoyed me. Here I was in the middle of a war and my enemy was laughing at me. “I don't think it's so funny,” I said.

“Funnier than you think,” Grandpa said. “Gorilla warfare, hah!
Monkeyshines
would be more like it.”

“You've got your slippers,” I said. “You can go now.”

“Petey, we've got to get this settled between us. Tomorrow, maybe. You go to sleep now, okay, but tomorrow we talk.” He leaned down over my bed and gave me a dry kiss on my forehead.“Good night,” he said.

“Good night,” I said back to him. I wanted to say more, like I was sorry, but I didn't. A war is a war, I thought, and it does not end until one party surrenders.

“Gorilla warfare,” he said on the way out of my room. When he closed the door he was chuckling to himself.

It was then I began to think that I would probably lose the war. Grandpa was so nice, he would just ignore everything I did. And in the end he would stay in my room and I'd be stuck up here forever.

Some war this is, I thought. My enemy just kissed me good night.

“That's very revealing, you know,” Steve was saying as we walked to the store. “He actually kissed you.”