Jeremy Fink and the Meaning of Life Read online

  I sigh dramatically. “It’s almost like you don’t want me to find the keys.”

  “You know that’s not true,” Mom says. “It will all happen the only way it happens.” She heads into the kitchen, and I follow.

  “What does that mean?” I ask. Before she can answer, the phone rings. The caller ID shows it’s Lizzy’s dad. She picks up and she says, “Yes, he’s grounded for a week. Yes, I’ll wait until the car comes tomorrow and call you at the post office. Thanks, Herb.” She hangs up. “Hey, you got off easy. Lizzy’s grounded for two weeks.”

  Poor Lizzy. She was only trying to help me. I’m sure this isn’t how she planned to spend her summer, either.

  “What do you want for dinner?” Mom asks, already reaching into the cabinet for the box of macaroni and cheese.

  “Why do you ask if you already know?”

  “I always hope you’ll surprise me.”

  “Not tonight.”

  After years of trying to get me to eat normally, Mom has given up. Dinners are now a choice between four meals—macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, fish sticks, or pizza if we’re going out. Mom once tried frying some chicken and pressing it into the shape of a fish stick, but I knew better.

  She puts a pot on the stove and pours in the water. “You’re going to drive me to drink with your finicky eating habits,” she says.

  Seeing as our house is an alcohol-free zone, unless I’m going to drive her to drink chocolate milk, I’m not too worried.

  “You’ll be thirteen in a few weeks,” she says. “It’s time to expand your horizons. I’m going to introduce one new thing each Monday night.”

  After what happened today, I don’t dare argue. “Sure, Mom,” I say, hoping she’ll go easy on me and won’t jump right to the broccoli.

  “And since today’s Monday,” Mom says, swinging open the refrigerator door, “we might as well start tonight. But don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.” She pulls out a glass bowl covered in cellophane. I approach with caution and peer inside.

  Broccoli!

  Chapter 8: The Old Man

  Mom, Lizzy, and I are sitting on the steps of our building waiting for Mr. Oswald’s driver to pick us up. I didn’t get any notes from Lizzy last night and I didn’t write any either. I’m afraid she’s mad at me. At least she’s back in her ponytail and shorts again. No skirt and long hair blowing around.

  “You’ve both got the notebooks that the policeman gave you?” Mom asks.

  We shake our heads.

  “I got the impression you’re supposed to bring them,” she replies. “Go on up and get them. I’ll wait in case he comes.”

  As Lizzy and I climb the stairs, she asks if I’m mad at her.

  Relieved, I shake my head. “I thought maybe you were mad at me. After all, you wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for me and the box.”

  “And you wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for me,” she counters.

  “Do you think we’ll still be able to find the keys in time now?” I ask.

  “We’ll keep our eyes open,” she says firmly. “We won’t let this stupid community service thing ruin our plans.”

  We’re about to shake on it when the new kids come out of their apartment. “Don’t let us interrupt you,” Rick says, gesturing to our imminent handshake.

  We both pull our hands away quickly. “How’s it going?” Lizzy asks in a high voice that’s almost a squeak. She says it to both of them, but looks only at Samantha.

  “Good,” Samantha says. “We’re almost all moved in.”

  “Cool,” Lizzy says. Then she blurts out, “I like your earrings.”

  Samantha puts her hands up to her ears. “I’m not wearing any earrings.”

  Rick laughs. That kid is NOT getting any nicer, and I’m just about done feeling sorry for him for having to move to a new place.

  Lizzy turns beet red. “I mean the ones you were wearing yesterday.”

  “Oh, thanks,” Samantha says. “They were a gift from my grandmother.”

  “Cool,” Lizzy says, and nods. “If you want to come over sometime, I can tell you about the neighborhood, that sort of thing.”

  “Sure,” Samantha says. “Whenever.”

  “Cool,” Lizzy says. I want to alert her to the many other words at her disposal besides cool, but I think she would punch me.

  “Can we go now?” Rick asks, pulling his sister down the hall.

  “Bye, guys,” Samantha calls out.

  “Bye,” Lizzy says, waving a little.

  “Since when are you so friendly?” I ask her.

  “What do you mean?” she says innocently.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I’m just trying to be nice,” she says, putting the key in her door. “You know, neighborly, like you said. I’m allowed to make new friends, you know.”

  “Who said you weren’t?” I reply, hurrying into my apartment before she can respond. I grab my notebook and head back outside, not bothering to wait for Lizzy. She sits down next to me on the stoop a minute later. She has taken out her ponytail. I don’t know why it should bother me, but it does. I pull out my book and bury my nose in it.

  “This must be him,” Mom says, standing up and shading her eyes.

  I look up to see Lizzy staring, her mouth hanging open. Coming down the street toward us is no less than a limo. It pulls up right in front of our building. A limousine is in front of our building! Like the kind movie stars take. The driver steps out and tips his hat at us. He is wearing a real chauffeur’s uniform! I didn’t think people did that in real life!

  “Jeremy Fink and Elizabeth Muldoun?”

  We nod vigorously. Usually Lizzy is quick to correct anyone who dares to use her full name, but I can tell she’s too excited to bother.

  “I’m James. I have come to take you to Mr. Oswald,” he says. “And you are Mrs. Fink, I gather?”

  Mom says yes, and asks to see some paperwork from the community service people. Exchanging wide-eyed glances, Lizzy and I scramble off the steps and wait by the car until Mom gives us the all-clear.

  “You two behave,” she says, stepping back onto the curb.

  I’m surprised she’s not more shocked by the limo. Mr. Oswald must have told her that’s how we’d be traveling. Did she somehow forget to tell me?

  “Do you have your sandwiches?” she asks.

  “Yes, Mom,” I say, reddening as James looks on. When she steps aside, James opens the back door for us. Lizzy scrambles inside, and I follow her into the cool interior. I can’t believe we’re actually going to be driven around the city in a limo!

  The seats are cream-colored, and I’ve never sat on anything as soft. Even though it’s a bright, sunny day, the inside of the limo is dim because the windows are tinted. A small refrigerator is built into the wall, along with a television set and a radio. Another long seat faces us, and I immediately put my feet up on it. Lizzy can’t reach that far. We pull away from the building and I wave at Mom as we go, but she probably can’t see us through the windows.

  Lizzy swings open the door of the fridge. “Look! Strawberries! Juice! Soda in glass bottles! Can you believe this?”

  I shake my head, leaning back against the cool seat like I’m used to a life of luxury.

  “Man oh man,” Lizzy says. “If I had known doing community service was gonna be like this, I’d have gotten us in serious trouble years ago!”

  At the first red light, the window dividing us from James slowly lowers. He turns his head to look at us. “I imagine everything is satisfactory?” he asks, a small smile on his face.

  Lizzy unscrews the top of a Coke bottle and asks, “Is Mr. Oswald really really really super rich?”

  James laughs. “He’s pretty well off.”

  “I didn’t realize pawnbrokers made so much money,” I say.

  James turns back to the road and shakes his head. “Oh, that’s just a sideline. Used to be his family’s business. Mr. Oswald’s main job is selling antiques. He h