Pickle Pizza by Beverly Lewis

ONE
    Eric Hagel was flat broke.
    He sat in the dugout with his buddy Dunkum Mifflin. Eric shoved his bat into the dirt. “Only two days till Father’s Day,” he said.
    â€œTwo days—and I can’t wait.” Dunkum thumped his fist into his catcher’s mitt. “My dad’s gonna be so surprised.”
    Eric was silent.
    Dunkum kept talking. “I bought a giant crossword-puzzle book. My dad has a puzzle habit, you know.”

    Eric nodded. “Did you buy it with your own money?”
    â€œI saved up for a couple weeks,” Dunkum said.
    Eric wished he had money of his own. He wanted to buy a Father’s Day present for his grandpa who lived with them.
    There wasn’t much money to go around. His mom baked special-order cakes for extra money. Grandpa repaired watches, but his eyes weren’t strong anymore. He worked only three afternoons a week.
    â€œWhat about you?” Dunkum asked. “Have you been saving up?”
    â€œNot much. My paper route money goes to the family,” Eric answered. He’d had the route for a whole year. But there never seemed to be money left over. Atleast not enough for a Father’s Day present.
    â€œAre you going to celebrate with your grandpa?” Dunkum asked.
    Eric smiled. “He’s been kinda like a father to me since my dad died. Only one thing . . .”
    â€œWhat’s that?” Dunkum asked.
    â€œI’m broke. I can’t buy anything.”
    Dunkum stood up. “Why don’t you make something?”
    Jason Birchall walked up to them. “Make what? What are we talking about?”
    Eric shrugged his shoulders. “It’s about Father’s Day. Dunkum thinks I should make something for Grandpa.”
    â€œSure, why not?” Jason said. “Some of the other Cul-de-sac Kids are making things.”
    Dunkum nodded. “Abby Hunter alwayssays, ‘homemade gifts are the best.’ ”
    Eric got up and swung his bat around. “Sounds good. But what ? What can I make?”
    Eric, Dunkum, and Jason made a huddle. A think-huddle.
    â€œWhat does your grandpa like?” Dunkum asked.
    Eric thought a moment. “Birds. He’s bird-crazy.”
    Jason started laughing.
    Eric frowned. “What’s so funny?”
    â€œI saw him spying on a bird’s nest yesterday,” Jason replied. “He was up on his step stool—wearing those weird field glasses.”
    â€œThey’re not weird,” Eric said. “They come in handy sometimes.” He was thinking about last Christmas. Grandpa’s field glasses had helped solve a mystery. “Remember those crazy Christmasangels next door?” Eric asked. “At Mr. Tressler’s house?”
    â€œHey, you’re right!” Jason said, laughing. “Remember those Christmas cookies Dee Dee and Carly made?”
    Dunkum’s eyes lit up. “And Stacy made a card with gold glitter. Remember that?”
    â€œHey! I have an idea,” Jason said. “Why don’t you ask Stacy about her art class?”
    Eric’s mouth pinched up. “Why should I?”
    â€œBecause Stacy’s a good artist,” Dunkum stated. “Maybe she’ll give you some ideas for Father’s Day.”
    â€œOr maybe she’ll take you to art class with her,” Jason said. He danced around like it was a big deal.
    Eric shook his head. “How can I get her to invite me?”
    Jason laughed. “Just ask her, silly. She doesn’t bite.”
    Eric’s face got red. “I know that.”
    â€œThen ask her,” Jason teased.
    Eric scratched his head. “I’ll think about it.”

TWO
    Eric ate supper fast.
    It was still light out when he finished. He dashed across the street to Stacy Henry’s house.
    She opened the door. “Hi,” Stacy said.
    â€œHi,” Eric said back. He didn’t know what else to say.
    â€œWhat do you want?” she asked.
    â€œOh