House Arrest (20 page)

WEEK 41

Different greens.
Dark from making a gash across tall grass.
Medium from bashing a hedge.
Brown-green from spinning onto a dirt clod.
So many different greens
smeared across the laces
of the football that should not be on this coffee table,
that should be in Mom's trunk
with the rest of Dad's stuff.

I guess it's none of my business
that Mrs. B isn't really a Mrs.
Though maybe someone should have warned me
just in case I might be out with Mom
at the mall
on the ONE day we go out for fun,
the ONE time Marisol comes on a Saturday,
and we are just walking around
just happening to see
two people I know very well
HOLDING HANDS
and
SHARING AN ICE CREAM CONE.
Gross, James.
Gross, Mrs. B.
I mean, Ms. B.
Or Miss B.
Or whatever.
Seriously, you guys.
Gross.

What do I think about fresh starts?
That's a weird question.
First of all, “fresh starts”
sounds like a grocery store
or a really lame handout in Health class.
Second of all, what kind of question is that?
Mom handed me about a hundred brochures,
all for apartments.
I was already going to have to do it, T-man.
Don't call me T-man.
It's either sell the house, or let the bank take it.
The brochures show happy skinny people
with mirrors on the walls of their dining rooms
and bottles of beer by swimming pools.
I should have done it a long time ago.
I was paralyzed or something.
I'm sorry, Timothy.
I haven't been here.
Even when I have been here, I haven't been here.
We need a fresh start.
This will be our fresh start.
She pointed to Bottle Creek Apartments.
I thought it said Butt Creek Apartments.
Seems about right
, I said.
And she hugged me tight.

I heard you wanted to see me?
Her face was all wrong.
Pointy and blinking.
Not soft, not like Mrs. B at all.
But I talked to her anyway,
the elusive Guidance Counselor,
in her native territory of
plastic chairs
and posters of terrified kittens
falling out of trees,
with the words
Hang in There
dangling over their heads
just out of reach.
I asked about the Carnival of Giving
watched as, the more I talked,
the more her mouth opened wider, little by little
like a drawbridge preparing to let in
an army.
I'll talk to the PTA.
Then she paused.
She blinked a lot.
You know, you are very brave, Timothy.
She said that last part
as I walked to the door
and I didn't have the heart to tell her
she's mistaking bravery
for flat-out
desperation.

If I stare at the wall,
this particular wall
with the spot
that's whiter than the rest,
the hole that Mom filled with newspaper
and covered with goopy white stuff
and smoothed out with the edge of a ruler.
This spot,
if I stare at it,
reminds me of me
a little bit.
Not quite all put together
but sort of.
I mean, at least put together enough
to rub your hand over it
and call it smooth
like Isa is doing right now
to the back of my neck
while she pretends to not
read over my shoulder
and I pretend to not notice
that she's reading over my shoulder.

WEEK
4
2

Levi stood up on his own today.
We jumped around and screamed and clapped.
Pretty much like morons.
Happy morons.
He is almost eighteen months old.
That's when most babies are already running.
But Mom says Levi is growing on Levi time.
That's OK even though Levi time is slow.
Can you believe he stood up?
I gave him a prize.
Vanilla yogurt.
His favorite.

I love that they painted it green.
Because of course.
José's dad said,
Thanks for the inspiration.
And he laughed
and I patted the top of the turtle car,
the shiny green top
and felt a little bit amazed
they actually did it,
you know?
They actually took that hunk of junk
and made a real car out of it again.

Killing aliens.
Getting killed by aliens.
Side by side.
His shoulder knocking mine.
My shoulder knocking his.
I guess you like her
,
he said, running behind a bunker.
I shot a missile
into an alien's face.
You mean Isa?
I stared at the screen.
José stared at the screen.
Who else, dummy?
He darted from the bunker
covering me as I opened fire.
Sure
,
I said,
I mean, I guess, yes. I do.
His shoulder knocked mine.
Another alien went down.
Don't be gross about it, dude.
My eyes burned into the screen.
I'm not being gross about anything.
I laid down some cover.
He ran into a building.
She's my sister.
I know.
I ran into the building after him.
He whirled around a corner
and shot me
as if I was an alien.
He shoved my shoulder,
Don't forget that, OK?
I shoved him back.
OK.
Then we laughed weird laughs
and started over again.

10:42.
She runs upstairs as soon as it rings.
Selfish.
I hear her through the locked door.
No
I don't
he doesn't
he might never
unforgivable
Then the shower turns on
and I walk down the hall,
back to my room,
my heart pounding,
my stomach twisting.

As some of you might know
we have a family at Honeycutt Middle
who is in need of a little help.
And because we are a family at Honeycutt Middle
we're going to do everything we can.
That was when I slid down in my seat
and tried to shrink into a dot-sized Timothy.
In just less than six weeks
we'll have our annual
Carnival of Giving!
So get ready, Mustangs,
and let's show the world
how our family
helps other families
in their time of need.
I stayed low in my seat
for the rest of class
not wanting to be embarrassed
not willing to admit it's my family
but feeling my pounding heart
feeling my breathing going faster
just thinking about how it might really
really
be happening
and how we might really
really
be able to take Levi to Cincinnati
if we can all survive
the Carnival of Giving
first.