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unit.”
    Just then, the door to my sister’s room swung open, and my dad came in. I looked at him in his blue boxers, with the mechanical pencil stuck behind his ear. His hair was standing straight up from his head, and his newspaper was still folded to the crossword-puzzle page.
    â€œAny of you kids know an eight-letter synonym for an extinct rodent?” he asked. “I tried pocket rat, but it doesn’t fit.”
    That’s my dad, I thought. A real rocker.

CHAPTER 8
    I COVERED THE PHONE with my hand and whispered to my dad.
    â€œGive me a second, Dad, and we’ll get you the answer you’re looking for, I promise.”
    My dad wasn’t getting the clue that I wanted him to leave.
    â€œRobert,” he said. “You’re usually full of information. Any ideas?”
    â€œActually, Mr. Zipzer, my special knowledge is in the reptile world rather than the rodent world, although I once did a book report on the life cycle of the black-tailed prairie dog and found it quite fascinating,” he replied.
    â€œYeah, Dad,” I said, trying to edge him toward the door. “Robert’s a snake-iguana kind of guy, not a mouse-rat-gerbil kind of guy.”
    Boy, did I want to get my dad out of there. We needed to finish the arrangements with Cousin Ralphie, and I didn’t want my dad hearing about the concert until I had the whole plan figured out. I motioned to Frankie with my eyes, but he wasn’t getting it. I motioned with my head, and he still wasn’t getting it.
    â€œHello,” I whispered. “Ding-dong, anyone home?”
    Frankie looked puzzled. Finally, I jerked my thumb toward the door. I gestured toward the living room, then toward my dad.
    â€œI think you might find the word he’s looking for in the living room,” I said. “You know, that room out there. The one where I’m NOT talking on the phone.”
    â€œRight!” Ashley said.
    â€œRighhhht,” I said.
    Frankie nodded. At last, he was with the program. He’s usually good at picking stuff right up.
    â€œCome on, Mr. Z.,” he said. “Let’s go into the living room. I always find that synonyms for rodents come to me a lot faster out there.”
    â€œMaybe it’s because the ceilings are higher,” I threw in.
    â€œYeah,” said Frankie. “There’s more oxygen floating around. It’s better for the brain.”
    Before my dad could answer, Frankie and Ashley had him by the arm and were escorting him back to the living room.
    Robert laughed his snorty little nerd laugh, which sounds like the noise my dog, Cheerio, makes when he has a cold.
    â€œMore oxygen in the living room,” he snorted. “Actually, Hank, everyone knows that the number of oxygen molecules per cubic foot varies according the density of the atmosphere, not the height of the ceiling.”
    â€œThat’s so interesting, Robert. I think you should go see if that theory works in your apartment. Like now.”
    â€œBut what about Katherine?” he said. “She needs me.”
    â€œYou’re absolutely right,” I agreed. “Katherine needs you . . . to leave the room. Bye-bye, little man.”
    I basically shoved Robert out the door, which is easy to do because his bony little self doesn’t weigh much more than a pocket rat soaking wet. Come to think of it, he looks like a rat soaking wet, except without the tail.
    I put the phone receiver back to my ear.
    â€œAre you still with me, caller number fifteen?” Cousin Ralphie said. “What is your name again?”
    â€œHank Zipzer,” I answered.
    â€œThat’s a WFUN kind of name,” he said. “Zippy but not zipified.”
    I laughed. Cousin Ralphie was always so funny and full of words. It must be amazing to have words on the tip of your tongue like that, to never have to search for a thought. Me, I’m always looking for the next word, the right word, any word.