Free Double Fudge by Judy Blume

even notice. And if he did, he'd be too polite to mention it."
    "You know what, Pete?" Fudge said, looking out the window of the van. "Someday this will all be mine."
    "What will all be yours?"
    "This place," he said, as we passed the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument. "It'll be called Fudgington then."
    "Don't hold your breath," I told him.
    "I never hold my breath, Pete. Unless I'm under water."
    100
    When we got to the train station Dad asked Cousin Howie where they were heading next.
    "New England, Tub," Cousin Howie said, pulling into a passenger drop-off area.
    I noticed Dad had stopped trying to get them to use his real name.
    "And a few weeks from now," Cousin Howie continued, as we got our stuff out of the van, "we'll be showing our little tribe the sights and sounds of your city."
    I dropped my suitcase. Our city?
    "Only problem," Howie said, "is that we haven't been able to find a place to stay."
    "Maybe I can help," Dad said.
    "Why thanks, Tubby. We'd love to spend a few days in New York with you and your family."
    "What I meant," Dad said quickly, "is that maybe I can help you find a hotel."
    "A hotel?" Howie asked. "Now why would we prefer a hotel to staying with you?"
    "Our apartment is small," Mom said. "The boys share a divided room and Tootsie's crib is in a remodeled closet."
    "Not a problem for us," Cousin Howie said. "We have our camping gear right here, in the van.
    101
    Never travel without it. The Honolulu Hatchers are ready for whatever comes their way."
    "Yes, but you see ..." Mom began.
    Eudora covered Mom's hand with her own. "We're family, Anne. Wait 'til you see how little space we take up. We're used to making ourselves practically invisible, aren't we?"
    Mini-Farley growled.
    Eudora said, "He's showing you how well he fits into the forest."
    West Sixty-eighth Street isn't exactly the forest, I thought.
    "Up with the sun," Cousin Howie said, "and asleep with the moon. You'll hardly know we're there."
    Mom had this weak smile on her face as she looked at Dad.
    Just say no! I begged, inside my head.
    "Well, Howie ..." Dad said, "you'd be more than welcome at our place. Just let us know when."
    "And give us some warning," I said. So I can arrange to stay at Jimmy's, I was thinking.
    "What Peter means," Dad said, "is give us some warning so he can clean up his room. Isn't that right, Peter?" Dad looked at me and I got the message.
    "Yeah," I said. "Sure. That's exactly what I mean."
    102
    10 Bird on Strike
    When we got home Grandma told us Uncle Feather hadn't said a word since we left. "I'm worried," Grandma said. "He could have a sore throat."
    "Uncle Feather's fine," Fudge told her. "He'll talk tonight."
    "How do you know?" I asked.
    "I know my bird, Pete." Fudge pulled a chair over to the kitchen counter, stood on it, climbed up, opened the cupboard, and pulled out a package of rice cakes.
    "Don't spoil your appetite," Grandma said. "I've made you a nice supper."
    "Couscous and Moroccan chicken?" Not that I had to ask.
    103
    Just catching whiffs from the oven was enough to make my mouth water.
    Grandma nodded. "And Buzzy's coming up to join us."
    "Great," I said. Grandma and Buzzy Senior met over the summer, in Maine. And as Mom likes to say, One thing led to another. They were married at the end of August. I really like Buzzy Senior. The only problem--and it's a big one--is he's Sheila Tubman's grandfather. The idea that I could be Sheila Tubman's step-something is revolting.
    "Sheila's coming, too." Grandma said.
    I groaned.
    "Now, Peter ..." Grandma began.
    I didn't wait for her to finish. "Come on, Grandma... you knew about Sheila and me before you married Buzzy."
    "That doesn't mean you two can't be civil to one another."
    "What's civil?" Fudge asked, climbing onto Grandma's lap with his rice cake.
    Grandma stroked his hair. "It means not being rude," she told him, looking right at me.
    "Fine," I said. "I'll be civil."
    "It could even mean being pleasant and respectful," Grandma