Billy Sure, Kid Entrepreneur and the Cat-Dog Translator Read online

  “Look, I know you’re busy, but I need to show you this website,” I explain.

  She must see how really upset I am, because she saves her work and turns the keyboard over to me.

  I bring up the Sure Secrets website, and her mouth drops open.

  “What is this?” she asks, scanning the headlines. “Jelly beans? Really? Is that true, because if it is, it’s kinda disgusting.”

  “Yes, it’s true, but that’s not the point,” I say taking a deep breath. “There is all kinds of stuff on this website that is true, but that no one else could possibly know. So I have to ask you, did you do this? Did you tell anyone all this embarrassing stuff about me?”

  I brace myself for the confession I am certain will follow, but once again, Emily surprises me.

  “No,” she says seriously. “I would never do this to you. I mean, I think you’re a dork and all, and sometimes I wish you lived in another house, or planet, but I would never do anything like this, Billy.”

  I know she is telling the truth. Ever since I invented the Disappearing Reappearing Makeup for her, we’ve been on pretty good terms.

  “I know. Thanks. But what about Dad?” I ask.

  “Dad?” she repeats. “I don’t think Dad has left his studio in a week. The only people he’s talked to are me, you, and Philo. And I don’t think Philo’s talking!”

  Not without the Cat-Dog Translator, anyway, I think.

  “Thanks, Em,” I say.

  “Sure. Now get out of my room, genius,” Emily snaps, but I can tell that she isn’t really annoyed with me. “Can’t you see I have mounds of homework to do?”

  I head down the hall to my room to begin my own homework, determined to put this website business out of my mind. After all, who cares if everyone knows that I wear footie pajamas or talk in my sleep? So what? Besides, I have more important things to focus on. It’s time to move forward with the launch of Sure Things, Inc.’s latest invention!

  Talking Pets

  THE NEXT DAY AS I walk into school I brace myself for another round of people laughing at me because of stuff they saw on the Sure Secrets website.

  I hurry along, keeping my head down, hoping to scoot into class without anyone stopping me in the hallway. No such luck.

  “Hey, Sure!” Dudley shouts at me from down the hall.

  Here it comes, some embarrassing secret about what I eat or wear or how I sleep. Soon I’m not going to have any secrets left. But much to my shock, Dudley has something else in mind entirely.

  “So I heard that you actually invented that dog-talking thing,” he says.

  “The Cat-Dog Translator, yes, I did actually build one,” I say, relieved that the topic of hallway conversation has shifted from my secrets to my work.

  “Yeah, whatever, the thing that tells you what your dog is saying,” Dudley goes on. “Can I come over and try it on my dog?”

  I suppose that’s not the worst idea. I do need to test the device. Before I can respond, a crowd forms around me. Some of the kids I know, many I don’t.

  “You’re Billy Sure, right?” says one boy. “Can you try your machine on my cat? I’ve always wanted to know what he’s saying when he yowls at me.”

  “Well, I think that’s possible if I—”

  “Billy, I think my dog is really smart,” says a girl I don’t know. “He always knows what I’m saying, but I’d love to know what he’s saying.”

  “We might be able to—”

  “My cat never shuts up. What the heck is she saying?” says a sixth grader. I think his name is Tommy.

  “Hey, I have a gerbil. Will your toy work on him?” says another sixth grader, also named Tommy.

  “Um, it’s not a toy, actually, it’s an—”

  “I have a goldfish!”

  “Goldfish can’t talk!”

  “My dog can talk. He never shuts up!”

  This is really getting out of control. I mean, on one hand, I do need test subjects, and it seems as though I’ve got plenty. On the other hand, I have to be able to walk down the hallway in school without creating a scene.

  “Okay!” I shout. “Listen up, everyone. Bring your pets to the offices of Sure Things, Inc. this afternoon, and I can test the Cat-Dog Translator on them.”

  I turn to try to break away from the crowd—and crash right into PRINCIPAL GILAMON.

  “Whoa, easy there, Billy,” he says, steadying me so I don’t either fall on the floor or knock him over. Knocking over the principal is never a good idea. “Everything okay here? Am I late for this meeting of the Billy Sure Fan Club?”

  “No, sir,” I say. “I’m just talking with a few friends, but now I’m on my way to class.”

  “All right, then,” says Principal Gilamon as the crowd breaks up. “And perhaps it’s time to start thinking about Billy Sure Day again. You, young man, continue to be an inspiration, a model for hard work, and I want the whole school to celebrate that!”

  “Thank you, sir. Maybe we could talk about Billy Sure Day another time. It’s just that I’ve been kinda busy and—”

  “Well, when you’re ready, you just let me know and we’ll arrange it,” says Principal Gilamon.

  “I will. Thank you,” I say, hurrying off in the direction of my first class.

  Since the first day of seventh grade, Principal Gilamon has been trying to get me to lead a school assembly. Something about my achievements setting off a tidal wave of excellence throughout the school, or some such thing.

  Whatever. At least he got me away from the overenthusiastic crowd of pet lovers who had me trapped in the hall.

  The rest of the school day follows a similar pattern as the morning. Apparently word of my invention has spread like Principal Gilamon’s TIDAL WAVE, and I am mobbed in the hallway between every class by kids wanting to know what their pets are saying.

  Finally, the school day ends, and I make my escape. I head home, grab Philo and a peanut butter sandwich, and bike over to Manny’s. The sight awaiting me there is almost too much for me to take in.

  As I roll to a stop on my bike, I see a line of kids and pets stretching around the block. Word has obviously spread, not only about the existence of the prototype, but also of my offer to test it on any pet brought to the office.

  I wonder how Manny is dealing with all this! Are his parents going to kick us out of our office?

  “Hey, Sure. Fluffy’s ready to be tested!”

  “No fair. I was here first. He cut the line!”

  The crowd is starting to get worked up. I slip into the office.

  “Have you seen what’s going on outside?” I ask Manny.

  He’s hunched over his laptop, spreadsheets and pie charts flashing across the monitor.

  “What? Is it raining or something?” he asks distractedly. “I’ve been busy working on the marketing plan for the mass launch of the Cat-Dog Translator. Once the beta testing is done I want to go wide with this one, Billy.”

  “Raining?!” I cry. “Have you taken a look out the window? There’s, like, a hundred kids out there. And they all want me to test the translator on their pets!”

  Manny looks up from his laptop. “That’s fantastic!” he says. “Sounds to me like you’ve got the entire beta test lined up right here!”

  I hadn’t thought of it that way. As usual, Manny has found the silver lining. I only hope his neighbors agree.

  I go to the front door and throw it open.

  “Okay, everyone, come in one at a time, and we’ll test the Sure Things, Inc. Cat-Dog Translator on your pet,” I announce.

  First in is a girl named Sara with a small white fuzzy dog. She carries the dog in her arms. As she enters, the dog lets out a tiny yelp.

  Philo lifts his head from his doggy bed, surveys the situation, and then puts his head back down on his paws.

  I power up the translator. The lights on top flash, left, then right. A low hum comes from the speaker.

  “This is my dog, Marshmallow,” says Sara.

  “Okay,”
I say, “just put your dog’s mouth over near the microphone, right here.” I point to the square box extending from the front of the device.

  The girl extends her arms so that her dog’s mouth is now near the microphone.

  “YIP-YIP-YIP-YIP!” the little dog squeaks. From out of the speaker comes: “SARA SMELLS LIKE LIVER . . . YUMMY!”

  “I do not!” Sara shrieks, moving Marshmallow away from the device. “I hate liver!” She leaves.

  Next in is Dan, with his cat, Boots, a big black cat with white paws.

  “I love you, Boots,” says Dan, scratching the cat between the ears.

  “ME-OOOOOW!” cries Boots, who then turns around and lifts his tail. From the translator’s speaker comes: “TALK TO THE TAIL!”

  Melissa brings in her dog, Hercules. He’s a big bulldog. He looks like a Hercules.

  “Go ahead, Hercules. Speak!” Melissa says.

  “RARRRFFFF!” barks Hercules, practically shaking the walls of the garage. Out comes: “I LOVE YOU . . . AND YOU . . . AND YOU . . .”

  Sometimes the toughest-looking pets are actually the sweetest.

  Herman Torosian comes in carrying a tiny cat carrier. I’ve seen Herman around school. He’s on the football team. He’s in eighth grade, but I think he’s already taller than my dad. I have to stifle a laugh when he takes a tiny kitten out of the carrier. Standing in the palm of Herman’s enormous hand, the kitten meows. She’s saying: “SCRATCH MY HEAD. . . . SCRATCH MY HEAD. . . . SCRATCH MY HEAD!”

  Herman obliges, though his thumb is almost bigger than the kitten’s entire head.

  Mary Jane Murphy brings in Killer, her rather large gray cat. She places Killer on the floor, and the cat immediately rolls over onto her back and starts purring loudly. Out of the translator comes: “SCRATCH MY BELLY.” Mary Jane starts scratching Killer’s belly. “THAT FEELS GOOD. . . . SCRATCH THERE. . . . THAT FEELS GOOD. . . . NOW I HAVE TO BITE YOU!”

  Which Killer does . . . but gently.

  The PARADE OF PETS continues for hours. In addition to a bunch of dogs and cats, kids also bring in their guinea pigs, birds, hamsters, and turtles. Much to their disappointment—but not mine—the translator doesn’t work on any animals other than cats and dogs.

  Finally, the last pet comes through and is successfully translated. I’m exhausted. I don’t know how Manny can get any work done with the racket in here, but I have to go home.

  “Sorry about all the noise,” I say.

  “Huh, what noise?” Manny asks.

  I smile. I have to hand it to Manny. I’ve never known anyone who can concentrate so completely on what he is doing, no matter what else is going on all around him.

  “The good news is that the beta test is a rousing success,” I say.

  This gets Manny’s attention. “Fantastic,” he says. “I’m putting the final touches on the marketing plan. We are good to go!”

  Dinner with Emily and Dad that night is fairly quiet.

  “Any progress on figuring out who put up that website?” Emily asks, when Dad heads into the kitchen to get the big bowl of spaghetti he’s made. As usual the spaghetti will be mostly inedible. Dad says he added beets, anchovies, and asparagus to the sauce.

  “Not yet,” I say, realizing that with all the hubbub around testing the translator, I had not thought about the Sure Secrets website once that night.

  “Who’s hungry for spaghetti?” announces Dad, placing the steaming bowl on the table. “Come and spa-GET-y it!”

  Emily rolls her eyes. I actually think it’s kinda funny. I’d smile if I wasn’t grimacing from the smell of Dad’s concoction.

  “How’s that new invention coming along?” Dad asks.

  “It’s actually working out really well,” I explain proudly. “Today I tested it at the office, and—”

  Suddenly a huge commotion breaks out just outside our window. People are yelling. Cats and dogs are howling.

  “What is going on out there?” asks Dad.

  Fearing the worst, I jump up from the table and race to the window. Pulling aside the curtain, I see a crowd of kids gathered outside our house. Each one has AT LEAST one pet!

  Who can ruin spaghetti? My Dad!

  More Secrets, More Problems

  OBVIOUSLY, WORD ABOUT THE PROTOTYPE has gotten out! And it seems that it’s gotten out to everyone in the neighborhood.

  Staring out the window I see a scene of total pandemonium. Cats scurry up trees. Hamsters dig holes in the lawn. A ferret chases a puppy.

  Dad may be a terrible cook, but he’s an excellent gardener. He’s responsible for how nice our yard always looks. At the moment a very large Saint Bernard has one of Dad’s prize-winning rose bushes dangling from its mouth.

  Then a horse decides that our driveway is a perfect spot to leave us a present. Guess who’s going to have to clean up after him?

  “What’s going on out there, Billy?” Dad asks. “Does this have something to do with your new invention?”

  “It does, and I’ll take care of it, Dad!” I say.

  I head up to my room to grab the prototype, but not before Emily goes to the window and I hear her say: “Billy, what have you done! There’s a CIRCUS on what used to be our front lawn! And in the driveway, there’s . . . there’s . . . What is that? It’s . . . oh no. . . .”

  I hurry into my room and throw open the window.

  “Hello, everyone,” I shout.

  I’m greeted by a chorus of overly excited pet owners:

  “I wanna know what my pigeon is saying!”

  “My dog is really smart. I need to know if he understands me!”

  “I just have to know which cat food my Muffy prefers!”

  This is nuts. There’s no way I can meet with each one of these people and translate what the pets are saying. I’d be out in the front yard all night. I’ve still got homework to finish, not to mention cleaning up after the horse!

  I have an idea. I grab the prototype and quickly adjust the long-range settings on the microphone and the speaker so that they will both work at a distance. I go back to the window.

  “Quiet, please, everyone,” I shout. “Quiet. In a moment I am going to turn on the Sure Things, Inc. Cat-Dog Translator. It should work for all of you with a cat or a dog, so please listen closely to discover what your pet is saying.”

  I hold the device up to the open window and power it on.

  The cacophony of animal noises drifts into the microphone and back out the speaker, translated, all at the same time. The symphony of sound is very confusing, but at the same time, pretty awesome:

  “Time for a walk. . . . I like walks. . . . Time for a walk. . . . I like walks.”

  “Treat-treat-treat-treat-treat-treat-treat!”

  “Why is there another cat here? I’m the cat! I’m the cat! She knows that I’m the cat!”

  “I don’t see my ball. Where’s my ball? Did you throw the ball? You always throw the ball. Where’s my ball?”

  This crazy scene goes on for about five minutes. In addition to the pet owners, my poor neighbors have gathered in front of their houses to see what in the world this racket is about. Then I turn off the translator.

  “Thank you all for coming,” I shout. “The demonstration is now officially over!”

  “But Muffy never told me which food she prefers!”

  “We will be on the market with the product soon!” I shout. Then I close my window.

  Slowly, the crowd breaks up. I venture downstairs. Dad is in the kitchen, obliviously doing the dishes. Emily is in the living room, texting. Everything seems normal.

  “Zoo time all done?” she asks without taking her eyes off her phone.

  “Yeah, all except for the cleanup,” I say, sighing.

  I head outside. The crowd is gone, and the neighbors are back in their houses. Grabbing a shovel from the garage, I fill in the holes in the lawn, then replant Dad’s rose bush. Unspooling the hose, I head to the driveway to get rid of the evidence of that horse.

 
• • •

  The next day at the office I’m exhausted. Between the line-up of people at the office wanting to test out the translator, the mob scene at my house last night, not to mention the Sure Secrets website postings, and Philo’s daily journeys to the park, I’m wiped out. Oddly enough, despite his unsupervised running around, Philo has actually been gaining weight lately. Yet one more unexplained piece of this puzzle.

  “I don’t know, Manny, I know that the Cat-Dog Translator is a good thing, but all this stress is starting to wear me down,” I explain. “I had a ton of people show up at my house last night, all with their pets. And not just cats and dogs! There were ferrets and horses, and—”

  “Well, here’s some good news to help cheer you up,” Manny says. “I just completed a deal with YUMMY IN THE TUMMY.”

  “Yummy in the Tummy? The big pet food company?” I ask. “Really?”

  “Really!” Manny says proudly. “They have agreed to endorse and help promote the Cat-Dog Translator. And to show their interest, they have sent us a big fat check to seal the deal. This nice chunk of cash will help fund the manufacturing of the product for the mass market. Now that the prototype is a success, we can move right into the mass-production phase. We could have this PUPPY on the shelves by the end of the year!” Manny laughs at his little joke.

  I lean back in my chair. It’s at moments like this that all the craziness seems worth it. The hard work, school, the double life, all of it, have come together to create something successful. I feel proud of my work, and of Manny. I feel happier than I have in days.

  Which is exactly when I hear Manny say, “Uh-oh.”

  “Uh-oh” is something that you definitely do not want to ever hear Manny say. He is so calm, and not much ever flusters him, so an “uh-oh” from Manny is like a “HOLY COW! WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON!” from anybody else.

  I walk over to Manny’s desk, bracing myself for the worst . . . which is exactly what I get. Manny has the Sure Secrets website up on his computer.

  “It looks like the posts are getting more intense. You’re not going to like this one,” he says.