Beach Reads: An Excerpt From The Custard War

by  Stacy DeKeyser | Illustrations by Darcy Kelly-Laviolette | July/August 2021

The summer of 1948 started off with a bang.

There I was on that first morning, still half asleep. I could stay in bed for another hour if I wanted, and dream about everything that would make this the best summer of all time. No more sixth grade—ever. Swimming at the lakefront. Ballgames at Orchard Field. Polar bears on the loose…

Polar bears?

I jumped out of bed and got dressed quick, straining to hear the voices floating up the stairs from the kitchen radio…

We interrupt this program to repeat a special report.

RAY:

Shortly after five o’clock this morning, a full-grown polar bear was reported missing from the city zoo. The half-ton critter—

BOB:

It says here his name is Frosty.

RAY:

 —was spotted an hour later by one Clement Baratka, a local milkman, who reported that the bear knocked over a backyard fence and spilled trash cans.

BOB:

I’ll bet that milkman spilled a gallon or two, if you know what I mean!

RAY:

Ahem. Shortly after six AM, the beast was apprehended by police officers and returned to the zoo without incident.

BOB:

Without incident? What about poor ol’ Clem? He almost got his butter churned!

RAY:

This is no time for jokes, Bob. 

BOB:

Who’s joking? 

RAY:

This concludes our special report. We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.

I raced downstairs and busted into the kitchen just as Ma snapped off the radio. She glared at it like it had personally insulted her. “Now we have to move!”

Pop looked up from his newspaper. “Move? Why? More coffee, please.”

Ma sloshed coffee into Pop’s mug and clanked the pot back onto the stove. “You weren’t listening? It’s too dangerous, living only three blocks from that zoo. We will be attacked by wild animals!”

“So I didn’t dream it?” I said. “A real polar bear? Roaming our neighborhood? I gotta go tell Ace.”

“Don’t go outside, Nicky!” hollered Ma. “It’s dangerous!”

“But Ma,” I told her, “the radio said that they already took it back to the zoo. Besides, I’ve lived here for twelve whole years so far, and I’ve never seen a wild animal coming up the sidewalk.” Which was kind of disappointing, now that I actually thought about it.

“Wild animal?” It was Uncle Spiro, coming down the stairs behind me. He was dressed for work in his white shirt and bowtie. His soda-jerk hat was folded flat and tucked into his shirtfront pocket.

“A polar bear escaped from the zoo this morning!” I told him. 

Uncle Spiro sat down while Ma served him eggs and coffee. “Can’t think of anything better.” Then he looked up. “No kidding. An actual polar bear?”

“Roaming the neighborhood for a whole hour!” I said. “He scared a milkman!”

Spiro laughed. “I’ll bet he did!”

The back door swung open and hit the wall with a bang. There was Ace, still in his pajamas. “Nick! Did ya hear?”

“Ace! Kali mera,” said Pop, which means “good morning.” My folks were born in Greece, so a lot of what they say is in Greek. I don’t think they even realize it.

“Close the door!” hollered Ma. “Wild animals!”

Ace shut the door behind him. “And I slept through the whole thing! Something sure smells good.”

Ma cracked an egg into the pan. “Fried or scrambled?”

“Fried, please,” said Ace. “Over easy.”

 Ace is my best pal. He lives next door. He likes to think he also lives with us, especially when something’s cooking.

“What kind of world we are living in?” muttered Ma, cracking more eggs. “Dangerous animals escaping all the time.” She turned and shook her spatula at me. “Nicky, you stay in the house this summer.”

Pop folded his newspaper. “Athena, you worry too much. These things, they don’t happen all the time.”

“Oh no?” said Ma. She plopped plates of eggs in front of me and Ace. “What about 1929?”

Ace and I looked at Spiro, who shrugged and looked at Pop.

Pop frowned for a second, and then his bushy eyebrows shot up from behind his glasses. “Oh, that? Almost twenty years ago! Only a few monkeys. We don’t need to move just because the wild animal escapes from the zoo once every twenty years. You don’t have to worry again until … 1968!”

Uncle Spiro stirred his coffee. “How on earth do you remember that date, Athena?”

Ma finally sat down and fanned herself with her apron. “How I could forget? It was right after the stock market crashed.”

Pop nodded thoughtfully. “I remember now. The stock market, it crashed down. And the monkeys, they crashed out!” He laughed and slapped the table.

“Monkeys got out?” I said. “Jeepers! What happened?”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” said Ma. “Monkeys. They got out!”

Uncle Spiro folded his napkin and stood up. “Time for me to make like a monkey myself. Athena, where’s my clean apron?”

“On the wash line,” said Ma, waving toward the back door.

Uncle Spiro is Pop’s younger brother. He’s lived with us forever. About a month ago he started his own business: a frozen custard shop called Sparky’s. He’s really proud of that place. He goes early every day just to polish it up and admire how nice it looks. He’s doing good business, too. In fact, he’s so busy that he hired me to work for him every Saturday afternoon. That’s fine by me, since that’s where I’d be anyway, so I might as well get paid.

“I’m going, too,” said Pop, reaching for his fedora. “Nicky, nine o’clock, neh?” Pop owns the Elegant Shoe Repair and Hat Shop. I shine shoes there every Saturday morning. It’s not so bad. I get good tips from the customers, and it’s better than staying home and doing chores for Ma. And believe me, she wouldn’t even pay me.

So, it all works out okay.

“Sure thing, Pop,” I called after him. “Nine o’clock sharp.”

“I still think you should not go outside,” hollered Ma, as we all tumbled out into a world that (until very recently) was being terrorized by a confused polar bear.

I waited on Ace’s front porch while he ran inside and got dressed. It’s not like I can’t go in, but it was a nice morning and besides, whenever I go into that house Ace’s little sister tries to talk me into playing some goofy board game. Plus, she cheats. I’ve learned that it’s best to wait outside.

A minute later Ace came out, eating a banana. He hadn’t bothered to comb his hair.

“I still can’t believe we slept through the whole polar bear caper,” said Ace as we walked toward the zoo.

Three blocks later, there it was. We could already see a bunch of people gathered in front of the bear dens. We skirted around to the front of the crowd, which was mostly kids, a few fellas with notebooks and pens talking to Mister Stankey the head zookeeper, and even a couple of police officers.

Frosty sat there on the other side of his moat, looking around like he was wondering what the big deal was, and by the way did anyone bring any fish?

“What are you two knuckleheads doing here?” said a voice behind us.

I knew that voice. It belonged to Pete Costas.

Here’s what you need to know about Pete: He’s big, and he’s mean, and he’s been beating me up on a regular basis since second grade.

The problem is, I can’t avoid him. I saw him at school every day. At Greek school too, which is only once a week, but even that’s too much if you ask me. Thank goodness it was finally summer vacation. But I’d still have to see his ugly mug in church every Sunday. I sure hope God is paying attention, because I should get credit for putting up with Pete Costas.

I took a deep breath and turned around. “What’re you doing here, Pete?”

“I can be here if I want!” he said. “The zoo is public property.”

“Is that so?” said Ace, sidling up to Pete (who was almost twice his size). “Looks like Frosty wasn’t the only smelly animal to escape from his cage today.” Pete’s the kind of kid Ace loves to pick a fight with. Big, but slow. One of these days, it’s going to get Ace into big, slow trouble.

Pete loomed over Ace and balled his hands into fists. “You’re lucky there’s people around,” he growled. “Or else you’d be Frosty’s breakfast by now. You know how he loves marshmallows.”

“Who’re you calling a marshmallow?” said Ace, taking a step closer to doom.

“Hiya, fellas!” said another familiar voice.

It was Penny, who’s a friend of ours, even though she’s a girl. She’s a grade behind me, but taller, which bugs me a little, but she can’t help it. She’s also a really good baseball player, which makes up for all the other stuff.

When they saw Penny, Ace and Pete forgot about trying to kill each other. Penny has that sort of effect on people. Maybe it’s her height, or the way she can blow a bubble as big as her head. But mostly it’s because Penny can strike out any batter on three pitches. That’s the kind of skill that earns you instant respect around here.

“Hiya, Penny!” said Ace. “Did you hear what happened? Frosty escaped!”

“I know.” She folded her arms across her chest and gave Pete the stink-eye. “Oh. Hiya, Pete.” She blew a bubble.

“Whatever,” said Pete. He turned and pushed his way through the crowd. But before he got as far as the police officers, he changed direction and took off across the grass.

“What did Pete want?” Penny asked.

Ace made a face. “Got lost on his way home to the reptile house. Come on, let’s go see what Mister Stankey is saying.”

“Good idea,” said Penny. “I bet those guys with pencils are newspaper reporters.”

She was right. When we got closer, we could see a tag on one fella’s chest that said Journal. Another fella had a card in his hatband that read Sentinel, and the third one’s tag said Chicago Tribune.

“Look at that!” I whispered. “There’s a reporter here all the way from Chicago!”

The Journal reporter was asking a question. “How’s the milkman doing, Mr. Stankey? Will he recover?”

Mister Stankey sighed. “The milkman is fine. There’s nothing to recover from, except maybe a bit of a startle. I’m told he finished his route and is on his way home for a rest.” Mister Stankey pulled at his collar. For someone who was going to be in the newspapers, he did not look like he was having much fun at all.

The Tribune reporter pushed forward. “How did the polar bear get out, Mr. Stankey? Are you surprised that something like this hasn’t happened before? There’s no fence around this zoo. No gates. People can come and go as they please, any hour of the day or night. And so can the animals, evidently!”

“The zoo is part of the city park,” explained Mister Stankey. “The good people of this city are entitled to free access to their park.”

The Journal reporter chimed in. “What about the animal enclosures? How can the public be sure they’re safe, when there’s nothing but a dry moat between them and huge beasts with fangs and claws?”

“Do you see that moat?” said Mister Stankey, sounding a little hurt. “It’s too wide to jump across. And the sides are too smooth to climb. I’m telling you, it’s impossible for an animal to escape under normal circumstances.”

The Sentinel reporter perked up. “Are you saying that the polar bear had help? Can I quote you on that?” He scribbled in his notebook.

“No, you can’t!” said Mister Stankey. “I have nothing more to say at this time.” And he squeezed past the reporters, looking a little pale.

But it did make me wonder: How did Frosty get out?

“I got it!” said Ace. “I know how I’ll never miss another escape from the zoo!”

“So tell us already,” said Penny.

“A paper route!” said Ace. “You know how Charlie’s always talking about getting up at four in the morning to deliver newspapers? If I got a paper route, I’d be out in the neighborhood every day, early. I’d never miss any of the good stuff ever again!”

“You’d miss some good sleep,” I said. “Besides, how do you know the good stuff will always happen at four in the morning?”

“I don’t know that,” said Ace. “But if it does, I’ll be ready. Where will you be? In bed, getting your beauty sleep.”

Penny laughed out loud. “I’d like to see what you’d do if you saw a polar bear coming up the sidewalk at four in the morning!”

Ace’s ears turned red. “Oh, yeah? I was gonna invite you along one morning, so you could see for yourself. But now maybe I won’t.” He kicked at the grass. “I’m gonna go find Charlie and ask him how I can get a paper route. See you two later.” And just like that, he stomped off.

Which reminded me. “Oh, jeepers, it must be almost nine o’clock! I gotta get to Pop’s shop!”

And I left poor ol’ Penny standing there with no one to talk to except Frosty.

Ace got his paper route, all right. He even snagged the perfect territory: All the streets around the south side of the park, including our street, and Mister Stankey’s office at the zoo. As it happened, the kid who already had that route had just quit. Apparently, he didn’t want to be out by himself, in the dark, roaming the same streets as marauding polar bears. His loss, if you ask me. But he was only too happy to turn over the whole route to someone else. So, on Monday, Ace started his very own paper route.

He lasted five days.

“This stinks,” said Ace on Friday morning after he’d finished his deliveries. We were sitting on the steps of his front porch. His hair was sticking up. His shirt was buttoned crooked, and his shoes were coming untied. I couldn’t tell if that’s what happens when you get dressed at four in the morning, or if he had an incident while he was delivering papers. I gotta admit, I was afraid to ask.

“My back hurts,” Ace groaned. “My feet hurt. My shoulders hurt. Do you know how much a satchel of newspapers weighs? Oh sure, they suck you in by starting you on a Monday. Monday’s edition is the skinniest one of the whole week! I tell ya, if you ever want to rob a bank, do it on a Sunday, because all the reporters are taking the day off. So, you go along for a few days, and by Wednesday you figure it’s not so bad. But then on Thursday—BAM! The ad supplement. That makes the paper twice as thick and heavy. And I have to bundle all the sections myself before I even start delivering!”

I didn’t have the heart to point out that banks are closed on Sundays, so even the bank robbers have to take the day off, but I got his point about the Monday versus Thursday editions.

Just then, Penny showed up. She tilted her head at Ace. “What’s the matter with you? You look like you fell out a window.”

Ace just groaned.

“The new paper route,” I told her. “Feet hurt, shoulders hurt, Thursdays are the ad supplement.” And now Penny was pretty much caught up.

“Oh,” she said. She sat down on the steps with us. “How about using your bike? Maybe that’ll make things easier.”

“I tried that,” said Ace. “I kept falling over from all that weight. And the dogs! Don’t even get me started about the dogs.”

“But Ace,” I said, “if dogs are giving you trouble, what’re you gonna do when you see a polar bear?”

“That’s another thing,” said Ace. “Not a single polar bear all week! I’ve been getting up in the middle of the night for nothing!”

Penny tried being sensible. “Maybe you shouldn’t get your hopes up. What are the chances Frosty will escape again?”

“What were the chances the first time?” he asked. Which, I had to admit, was hard to argue with.

Penny blew a bubble and fiddled with her hair ribbon. As usual, it was losing the fight against her cloud of black hair. “How many papers do you deliver?”

“Sixty,” he moaned. “Every single day, except Sundays.”

Being his best pal, I realized it was my job to try and cheer him up. “Tomorrow is Saturday,” I said. “You get paid tomorrow, right? And then you’ll have a day off.”

“Yeah,” he said, perking up a little. But then he sagged again. “I’ll have to go around twice tomorrow—once to deliver the papers, and a second time to collect from all the customers once they’re awake. Including the ones with dogs. I have to pay for all the newspapers out of that money, and I only get whatever is left! And now that my ma knows I’m doing something useful, she won’t let me quit. This stinks.” He dropped his head onto his knees.

Penny and I looked at each other and shrugged. What else can you say to a guy who already looks like he fell out a window?

Penny knew what to say. “Can I help?”

Ace’s head popped up. “Help what?”

“What do you think? The paper route. I could go along with you tomorrow, to learn the route. And then next week, we’ll each take half the route, and be done in half the time. We’ll split the pay fifty-fifty.”

Ace wiped his nose on his sleeve. “You’d do that for me?”

She shrugged. “It’d be nice to have some spending money. And I wake up at four every morning anyway, ’cause that’s what time my dad leaves for work.”

Penny’s dad is a motorcycle cop. He rides a huge Harley, which you can hear from two blocks away even when he doesn’t rev the engine. One time he let me and Ace take turns sitting on it. I’m not even embarrassed to be seen in front of a girl’s house, as long as I can be seen sitting on a big ol’ police-department-issued Harley.

“I’ve never heard of a girl with a paper route before,” I said. “Is that allowed?”

Ace shrugged. “It’ll be four in the morning. Who’s to know?”

“Ace is right,” said Penny. “Gee whiz, Nick. You worry too much.”

“I’m not worried,” I said, even though something about the whole idea bothered me. But I just said, “I know you’ll do a great job, Penny.”

Ace perked up. “So do I,” he said. “Penny, you’re hired.”

About the Author: Stacy DeKeyser

Stacy DeKeyser is the author of numerous books for young readers. Her most recent, The Rhino in Right Field (Simon & Schuster), has been included on award lists and summer reading lists across the country. The Custard War (forthcoming, date tbd) is its sequel. Stacy lives in Sarasota and Connecticut. Visit her website at stacydekeyser.com.