"Sweet!" said Louie, holding a card. "I've been invited to Jimmy Gull's birthday party!"
"Jimmy Gull's?" Huey said. "You don't even know him."
"Who's Jimmy Gull?" Webby asked.
"Only the coolest guy at school!" said Louie.
"Awww, how come we weren't invited?" Dewey said.
"I guess you aren't cool."
"Hey!"
"Has he ever even talked to you?" asked Huey.
"Not really," Louie said. "Except when he gave me the invitation."
Huey took it from him. It looked like a standard invitation-the party was on Saturday at Jimmy's house, RSVP by Thursday. "I don't know," Huey said, handing it back to his brother. "Seems kind of sketchy to me."
"Or the start of a whole new Louie Duck!" Louie said. "I'll finally be popular!"
"What does that mean?" Webby asked. "Does it mean you'll get better grades?"
"No."
"Better chances of getting into college?"
"No-"
"Make teachers like you better?"
"No-"
"Then what does it do?"
"It makes more people like me."
"How many people actually like Jimmy Gull?" Huey asked.
"I like him," Louie said.
"Eh, I'm kind of indifferent," Dewey said.
"Either way, birthday parties mean free cake, so I'm not complaining."
"It also means you have to get him a present," Huey said.
"Oh. Right. Do you think he'd like one of Uncle Scrooge's mystical doohickies?" Louie said.
"I don't think Mr. McDuck would want you taking any of his things," Webby said.
Louie shrugged. "I'll figure something out."
"You should probably ask Uncle Donald if you can go first," Huey said.
Louie rolled his eyes. "Yes, Uncle Hubert."
Donald stopped the car in front of the house as Louie double checked to make sure the house number was the same as the one on the invitation.
"Are we at the right place?" he asked, although the birthday balloons tied to the mailbox seemed to be a dead giveaway.
"Yep!" Louie said, opening the car door.
"I'll be back at 7. Call or text me if you want to come home early," Donald said.
"Ok, Uncle Donald," Louie said, getting out of the car.
"Have fun!" Donald called right before Louie shut the door behind him. He watched his nephew walk up the driveway and ring the doorbell, making sure he got inside before driving away.
Donald had gotten a lot better about letting his nephews go places without him. It had been hard, at first, not to be afraid that they would disappear just like their mother had. After a lot of practice and experience (and giving each kid a cell phone), though, that fear had largely abated. Still, Donald felt uneasy about this party. The kid's mom had promised she and her husband would be there the whole party when Donald had RSVP'd, so he wasn't worried about the kids getting into any sort of trouble. But why would this kid invite his Louie to his party if they'd never really talked before? The whole thing stunk of deceit.
So Donald kept his phone close by the whole hour and a half that Louie spent at the party before sending out a "please come get me" text.
Donald had obliged, giving his standard excuse of "a minor family emergency, nothing to worry about but something I need Louie for nonetheless." They walked to the car together in silence. Donald pulled away from the house, waiting to see if Louie would volunteer any information about the birthday party. When his nephew remained silent, Donald decided to try to jumpstart things a little.
"How was the party?" he asked.
Louie turned away, looking out the window. Donald knew that nothing good would come of turning the car around and giving Jimmy Gull and his parents a piece of his mind, but if whatever had happened was too bad for Louie to talk about-
"They only cared about Scrooge," Louie finally said.
"Scrooge?" Donald asked. "What's he got to do with anything?"
"They wanted to know what it was like living in his mansion, having access to huge piles of money, private jets to anywhere in the world. They wanted to know why I keep wearing this hoodie, as if Uncle Scrooge is going to buy me a whole new wardrobe when this one's still perfectly good." Louie crossed his arms. "And he didn't even like my birthday present. What was he expecting, a gold-plated skateboard? Even if he was my friend, I'd never spend that much money on an eleven-year-old's birthday present."
"I see," Donald said. "I'm sorry about all of that. Being rich attracts a lot of people who are hoping to get something from you."
"But that's just the thing! We aren't rich! Scrooge is! The only thing we get out of it is getting to live in his mansion."
"And going on his crazy treasure-hunting adventures."
"But that's not because he's rich, it's because he likes going on adventures!"
"You have to have a lot of money to be able to take off to the far corners of the world at the drop of a hat to maybe find some treasure," Donald pointed out.
"Yeah, ok, fine. But still. It's not like those are vacations."
Donald was quiet for a moment. "No," he agreed. "But you're still getting to see parts of the world that most people will never get to see. Louie, Scrooge is able to provide a lot for you and your brothers that I was never able to, and that most of your friends' parents are never going to be able to provide for them. But still. That doesn't give them the right to try to befriend you to try to get access to Scrooge's money."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Louie thinking about his uncle's words.
"Did anything like this ever happened to you, Uncle Donald?" he finally asked.
Donald thought for a moment. "A little, here and there. But Scrooge and I always fought so much, and he was always such a skinflint, that everybody knew that I had very little to do with his wealth." Donald paused. "I got hounded more by the tabloids than anything else."
Louie sat up. "The tabloids?"
"Scrooge was always very secretive about his private life. And they never bothered to fact check, so…"
"Wait, you lied to them?"
"It's not like they were ever going to find out. And if I made a few bucks out of it, well, that certainly didn't hurt."
"Whoa." Louie thought this over. "Hold on, does that mean that those tabloids we collected-"
"Full of lies," Donald finished for him. "Newspaper articles, on the other hand, are usually more reliable."
"Huh."
They drove in silence for a few minutes.
"Still, Jimmy Gull is a big, fat, stupid-"
"Language," Donald warned. "Why don't you ask Uncle Scrooge what he does about people who only want to get close to him for his money? He might have some valuable insights. Though most of those insights might amount to 'don't have friends,' so definitely take whatever he says with a grain of salt."
"Ok," Louie said.
And, Donald thought, maybe a talk about how to avoid money-grubbing friends was also in order.
