Ellray Jakes Walks the Plank by Sally Warner Page B

such weird names: “Alfleta,” which means “beautiful elf” in old Saxon, which no one even speaks anymore, probably not even old Saxons, and “Lancelot Raymond” for me. Lancelot was a guy in a famous old story.
    L-period-Ray. EllRay. Get it?
    And yes, a substitute teacher did say my real name out loud in class once last fall, and it was a disaster—especially because I’m the shortest kid in Ms. Sanchez’s third grade class, even counting the girls. So how could I fight back when kids started teasing me? Especially the sometimes-mean ones like Jared Matthews and Cynthia Harbison?
    But getting back to Zip, even Dad got interested in fixing up his new bowl. He gave me half a geode to make the whole place sparkle.
    A geode is like a trick rock, and it’s one of the coolest things in the world. All geodes are round,gray, and boring on the outside, but if you cut them in half with a special saw, there are beautiful crystals growing inside where the hollow part is.
    It’s like there’s a surprise present inside each one.
    So now Zip’s sparkly geode sits right next to Mom’s castle, but Zip doesn’t even seem to notice it. I guess he misses Ms. Sanchez too much, or maybe he’s still mad about Texas.

    But Zip does care about food, and that’s where I come in. Feeding him is my job this spring break. I give him two shakes of goldfish food first thing in the morning and two more shakes of food just before bed.
    I have to admit it’s not as much fun as I thought it would be.
    “Call him whatever you want to, Alfie. I don’t care,” I tell my little sister, giving up. “You’re not the one who has to feed him. I’m the one doing all the work around here.”
    “I could feed him for the rest of the week,” Alfie says, excited.
    “Nuh-uh,” I say, turning back to my video game. “It’s way too hard.”
    “Please?” Alfie asks, and her face crinkles up.
    Uh-oh. This is a bad sign with her. It’s the crying sign.
    “PLEASE?” she begs.
    “Well,” I say, giving in, “maybe just at night. But I’ll have to show you how.”
    “I know how,” she says. “I’ve been watching you.”
    “Just two shakes,” I remind her.
    “Just two shakes. And I only get to do it at night,” she repeats, so happy that she even makes
me
smile—which I am also doing because I have accidentally tricked her into doing one of my chores.
    “So, I’ll see you later,”I say, hoping she’ll take the hint and scram.
    “Okay,” Alfie says, hopping off my bed. “See you at supper. Bye, EllWay!”
    That was easy, I think, getting back to my game’s space creatures and their terrible fate.
    What could go wrong?

A DISASTER
    The first thing I see the next morning is the last thing I ever wanted to see.
    It’s Zip, and he’s not zippy
or
swimmy. He’s floating.
    Not in a fun way, either.
    He is on his side, and he is surrounded by gummy brown fish food that is all stuck together. The fish food covers the entire surface of the water in Ms. Sanchez’s newly decorated bowl, which is sitting on my desk.

    Zip is dead.
    Zip, with the white spot on his stomach.
    Zip, who was smart, you could just tell.
    Zip, who knew me.
    Zip, who was counting on me to take good care of him.
    What happened?
    Alfie. That’s what happened. This is a disaster.
    “Alfie,” I shout. “
Alfie!
Come in here right now and see what you did!”
    Instead of Alfie, Mom comes rushing into my room. “EllRay, what in the world is going on?” she asks. “Alfie is brushing her teeth.” And then she sees the fish bowl—and what is floating in it.
    Zip is so dead that he practically has little Xs where his eyes are, like in the cartoons.
    “Oh, my,” Mom says, covering her mouth with her hand. “And this
would
be the morning your father left early to go to the gym.”
    “Alfie murdered Zip,” I say, in case Mom has missed seeing the empty fish food container lying next to the bowl. “She
fed
him to death. She begged and begged me to let her help,