The Annoyance Bureau - Hardcover

She and her family love living in New York City, to which she pays merry tribute in this book.

Chapter 1

"Thank you for doing this for me," Mom said as we sat in the car outside Dad's building. "Thanks for letting me take this vacation. Just remember, Lucas. They love you."

"Right," I said. "They love me."

As in, "I love Lucas dearly. I just wish he were a little more, how shall I put this...a little less..." Which I'd overheard Dad's wife say last time I came to New York City, Columbus Day weekend.

Mom knew what I'd been thinking. I could tell. "Okay," she said. "One more time. Survival tip number one?"

"Don't take it personally," I said.

"And survival tip number two?"

"Don't take it personally."

"Exactly." She nodded. We'd spent the drive down making lists of ways to get me through this week. We'd packed up the Christmas gifts Mom had bought me, dropped my dog, Aslan, at the kennel, and headed here as soon as I got home from school. "And number three?"

I knew I was supposed to say "DTIP" again. "Bring a lot of books."

She laughed. I'd just added that one. "Don't read them at the table, though," she warned. "Or walking down the street."

"Or in the bathroom. Ever," I said. "On pain of death." In Dad's apartment I had to share a bathroom with my step-sister, Phoebe.

Mom's face went serious again. "Listen. Try to remember, okay? Number one, none of this is easy for Phoebe, either. Two, you're all still in the adjustment stage. Three, with a new baby in the family...Four, your dad and Claire are both working very long hours, so if they seem tense..."

We were drawing out this list making, both of us. After a certain point it was easier just to leave.

She hugged me.

"Oh, dear," she said, trying to get the clump of my hair that never stayed down to stay down. "Now I'm wishing I'd insisted on that haircut."

I didn't realize till the car had pulled away that I hadn't told her to have a great week in the Bahamas.

Dad's eyes went straight to my hair as soon as he opened the apartment door. "Welcome, welcome! Come on in. We've been waiting for you." I could see him trying to decide if he should shake my hand or hug me. He shook my hand. Then he gave me a sort of thump on the shoulder. This boy goes to Bentley Prep, I could see him thinking. Why does he still look like this?

"Keep your coat on," Claire said after she'd kissed me. She looked like she was trying to resist the urge to reach over and pat down my hair too. "You can leave those bags here. We're going right out. We waited to choose a Christmas tree till you arrived, right, Calvin?"

Calvin had his snowsuit on and was sitting in his stroller. "Woof!" he said, bouncing up and down. "Woof, woof! Woof!"

I'd taught him to bark on Columbus Day. That was a long time ago for someone who wasn't even two. Calvin was cool.

"Grrrrr, Calvin!" I growled back at him.

"Grrrr!" He grinned at me.

"No growling, sweetie," Claire told him. "Say 'Hello, Lucas.' Lucas, you know I'd really appreciate if you wouldn't encourage him."

"Sorry," I said.

"The other children in his play group are saying 'Mama' and 'Dada,'" she said. "Some of the little girls are speaking in whole sentences. It's embarrassing to have a child who only barks."

"Sorry," I said again.

"Not a problem," Dad said. "Phoebe," he called. "Lucas is here. We're leaving."

Phoebe came in carrying her cell phone and pulling on her black leather jacket, followed by Tinkerbell the cat. She looked me up and down. So did Tinkerbell. Oh, yes. We remember you, I could see him thinking. But do we hate you? Hmm. We might. Let's see. He sniffed my legs.

"He smells Aslan," I told Dad.

Phoebe raised her eyebrow. "He smells something," she said too softly for Dad or Claire to hear.

Don't take it personally, I told myself as we rode down in the elevator. I'd dropped my duffel and the shopping bag, but I still had my backpack on. It was stupid, I knew, carrying fifty pounds of sci-fi books to get a Christmas tree. But for some reason I felt better having my stuff with me. More like me. Safer.

"So, how's school going? How is the old place?" Dad asked. Dad had gone to Bentley too.

"Fine," I said.

"Your mom tells me you're keeping your grades up."

"Pretty much," I said. I wished I'd stopped in the bathroom before we left. I wished everyone wasn't looking at me.

"So, you going out for any sports?"

He already knew the answer to that. "Not really."

Maybe it would be better once we got outside and over to Broadway and they forgot about me and focused on finding a tree.

Broadway was full of Christmas tree vendors. "Yeah, that one's okay," I said each time Dad or Claire asked me for a tree opinion. "Yeah, that's a nice one."

"Oh. You're saying you like lopsided trees with no branches," Phoebe said when I said I liked one of Claire's choices.

"No. I think not." Claire nixed Phoebe's choice. "It's a little small. And not full enough. I was hoping for a really full one."

"You've got to be kidding," Dad said about mine. "I'll get a plastic tree before I pay a hundred twenty dollars. Excuse me. Sir, can we see one a bit smaller?"

By the time we'd gotten to our fourth tree seller, I'd come up with a new Lucas survival tip: Stay out of it. That probably wouldn't work either.

I could see Calvin wasn't enjoying this any more than I was. "Calvin. What do cats say?" I said, since Claire had asked me not to bark.

Calvin perked up. "Woof."

"That's dogs, Calvin," I said. "What does Tinkerbell say?"

"Roof!" he said. For a baby his voice was really low. Loud, too. I had to laugh.

Claire threw me a look. "Now, don't get me wrong, Charles," I heard her tell Dad. "I'm one of Lucas's biggest fans...."

"Lucas!" Dad said.

"Sorry," I said.

There was a giant inflatable Frosty the Snowman on the awning of a fruit market. The wind made him look like he was doing the Macarena. I watched him for a while. I watched people try to tiptoe through the slush without messing up their shoes. I watched a scruffy guy with long, stringy hair get people to give him money so he'd stop sing-ing. "Rrrrrrollin'" -- he was carrying a boom box and singing into a mike, so I could hear him clearly -- "rrrrrrollin'!" His voice was horrible. "Rrrrrrrrollin' on the river!"

It was interesting how many people fit on these sidewalks. It was amazing how stressed they all seemed. One lady had hung so many shopping bags on her stroller that when she let go of the handles for a second, it tipped over backward. Then she screamed at her kid. I watched a businessman-type guy kick a taxicab and yell, "What, you're gonna hit me?" as he crossed the street against the light. Even the dogs here looked stressed. I'd been wishing Aslan could have come with me. Maybe he was lucky he was in the kennel.

I noticed some guys with walkie-talkies going by, saying things like "Roger that," and "Over and out," and "Copy," hurrying down the street like, Do not mess with me. I am highly official and extremely important. "Possible rumpus at Computer Town," I thought I heard one say. "No. Change that to confirmed ruckus. Potential fisticuffs at Foodway." That couldn't be what they were saying. They were dressed somewhat strangely, though -- long, rumply green coats, and hats like men wear in old movies. I'd seen eight of them by now. No, nine. And this one was a woman. "Gridlock at Toy Fair cash registers," she was saying. "Do you read me?" Maybe they were making a movie. I'd seen that other times I'd been here. There were no cameras, though. And nobody on the street seemed to be paying attention.

"Rrrrrrollin'. Rrrrrrrollin'..." Scruffy was headed our way. I was interested to see what Dad and Claire and Phoebe would have to say to him. He had his hand

out. "Spare some change? A penny, a quarter, a dollar? Rrrrrrrrollin' on the -- "

"Noise pollution near Book World," a walkie-talkie guy said as he hurried by me. "Request removal authorization. Over."

The mike Scruffy had been holding vanished. His mouth was still moving, but there was no sound coming out. He just stood there staring at his empty hand.

"First removal achieved. Proceeding to hot spot at Book World," I heard the walkie-talkie guy say.

Book World was just down the block. I could see two more men with hats and green coats out front helping some Salvation Army guys set up their kettle and their amplifier.

Dad and Claire were deep in discussion about a tree. Phoebe was talking on her phone. Calvin had conked out. I started toward Book World.

As I got close a man in a Santa Claus suit ran out the bookstore door. "What'd you just do?" he shouted at the walkie-talkie guys.

I moved closer.

"Routine abatement," said the one who'd requested the removal. "Unauthorized noise pollution of a nonholiday nature."

"Oh, and you think this is better?" Santa pointed toward the Salvation Army guys, who'd started playing "Silent Night" on bugle and tambourine. The bugle player was not good.

"HQ orders," one of the other walkie-talkie guys answered. He was tall and lumpy. His partner was short and weaselly. "They were in front of Macy's. HQ said move 'em, and we moved 'em."

"Well, move them somewhere else," Santa said. "This is my territory. Book World and all annoyances appurtenant thereto."

I walked closer.

"And that abatement of yours abated my Muzak," Santa said.

"It's gone?" The removal guy looked puzzled. "Totally gone?"

"'Totally gone?'" Santa mocked. "Yes, Elpidio. What a shock. Your so-called routine abatement abated something that was helping. Per usual."

Something in Santa's hand was beeping loudly. I checked to make sure Dad was still busy. Then I went over to the store window and tried to look like I was book shopping.

Santa had stopped the beeping. "That Muzak in the store was reducing levels. Unlike this preposterous blatting." He nodded toward the bugle player. "And why is this new slush here suddenly? Does Book World need Park Avenue's slush? I don't think so."

All of Broadway was pretty soupy. There was yucky gray snow piled up at every curb. But now that I looked, there did seem to be about six times as much around Book World.

Santa glanced at me. "I'm glad somebody here agrees with me."

I'd been trying not to stare. He'd caught me.

"You know," he told the walkie-talkie guys, "if I were a different kind of guy, I'd be taking this personally."

Taking this personally? This was either a very big coincidence or very weird.

"Don't get your shorts in a knot," he called to me. "Stick around. It's just getting interesting." He nodded toward a very large woman walking up to them. She had on the same green coat and a big fur hat. "Hey there, toots," he called to her.

"What's the problem?" she asked the walkie-talkie guys. "Is our associate here having a snit?" With the hat, she seemed a foot taller than Santa. She shook her finger at him. "No snits. Remember? The guidelines forbid snits."

Santa glanced at me again, then drew himself up taller. "My dear Hildegund," he said, "there are five days till Christmas, the five most difficult days of the year. If you would forget the guidelines for a second, you might actually get something done. You might even, heavens to Murgatroyd, reduce annoyance levels, which in the last two minutes have gone from ridiculously irritating to abominably vexatious."

I changed my mind. There was no way I was leaving.

"Look around you," he said. "He's irked. She's irked. Anyone with the brains of an anchovy is irked. And what are you doing about it? That's what I'd like to know. Because I know what I'm doing!" I'd assumed the beeping thing was a cell phone, but when he held it out, I could see it was too big. "Watch this," he told me.

"You're not allowed to have that!" the removal guy warned.

"Give me the device," the short guy said. "Come on, now" -- he stepped closer -- "hand it over."

"Back off, Casimir!" Santa warned.

"It's not approved. It has not been authorized. The regs strictly prohibit -- "

"I wouldn't worry about it," the woman said. "It doesn't work."

"Doesn't work?" Santa said. "Doesn't work? This baby works beyond your wildest dreams. This baby can change the face of..."

He held it out and pressed some buttons.

Beedle-dee-BEEP-bee-beeeeep! It went off. The woman grabbed for it.

Beep-BEE-bee-dee-BEE-bee-dee-BEEEE! Santa scooted away.

"Come on, now, old buddy," the tall guy said. "Calm down. Chill. Relax. Give us the thing!"

"Thing?" Santa hid his hands behind his back. "What thing? The only things I'm seeing are a bunch of burned-out bureaucrats who wouldn't know an annoyance from an armadillo, a nuisance from a knockwurst, a pest from a prune danish...." He lowered his voice. "Pssst!" He

signaled with his head for me to come over. I edged closer. "Help me out, here," he whispered.

"Son!" Uh-oh. Dad was calling me. "What are you doing over there?"

I turned around. Dad had a humongous tree on his shoulder. Phoebe looked disgusted. Calvin was crying. "I know, sweetie," Claire was telling him. "I should have brought your Cheerios. But we're going to get a nice pizza. No. Leave your mittens on, Calvin. Don't take your mittens off."

"Requesting backup!" I heard the woman say. "Meltdown at Book World. Yes, of course it's him. Who else?"

"Erupt, maybe," Santa shouted over her. "Melt, not likely!" I felt a tug on my backpack. "Don't let this out of your sight," he whispered. "Don't let anyone see it. And do not, whatever you do, push any buttons. Lucas" -- I felt him unzip the outside pocket and slip something in -- "I know I can count on you."

He knew my name?

"Uh...you know...I don't really think -- " I started to say.

"Lucas," Dad called. "I could use a hand here. This tree is not light."

"Let's figure out what we're going to order, okay?" Claire said. "Lucas, what do you like on your pizza?"

"Can we not get whole wheat this time, please?" Phoebe said. "I hate the whole wheat. It's like eating cardboard."

"Lucas, what are you doing?" Dad asked.

What I was doing was taking my pack off so I could give Santa back whatever this thing was. But by the time I'd turned, Santa and the walkie-talkie guys were gone.

Copyright © 2002 by Lucy Frank