Poster Boy (16 page)

I had to sign a release form, found out the piece would air Saturday night as part of the six o'clock news. I'd be home and able to watch it with Maggie, Mom and Dad. Maybe I'd send out a message telling my friends about it. No, that would seem like bragging. I'd get Davis to do it.

After Cynthia and Greg left, I remembered I hadn't watered Davis's girls for awhile and went to fill my jugs. Davis had left me some African violet plant food to “spike their drink.”

The girls were thriving. Bushy and green, leaves all perky. On the biggest plant, which Davis had named Ruth, I noticed a sizeable bud.

Yes. Grow, girls, grow. If I was going to stay here and build some sort of winterized place, I'd need some serious cash. And this would be the easiest cash I'd ever made.

That night I dreamed some movie company came and offered me millions to make a movie of my life. The only stipulation was that I let them cut my hair.

I said sure.

* * *

The next day I was helping Mr. D. haul compost to spread on the growing fields. I had worked damn hard the past weeks and Mr. D. had become a lot friendlier. The lunch bell started clanging and he and I both looked up at the sky and then at each other. Litze started barking excitedly.

“It can't be ten-thirty,” grumbled Mr. D.

“Yeah.”

“Guess she wants us to come down though.”

“Guess so.”

There was a large white truck in the drive. Earth Friendly Inc. was painted on its side in blue and green letters. Two men in white jumpsuits, a green-and-blue planet earth logo on their pockets, stood watching us approach. One tall thin guy was smiling real big, his eyes just slits. He looked majorly blazed. Nacie was there, too, smiling away.

The more compact guy walked up to me. He seemed to be in charge of things.

“You Gray Fallon?”

“Yeah.”

“It's a good thing you're doing, kid. And that's why we're here to deliver to you, at no cost or catch, a complimentary Sunlight Dome Shelter.”

“A what?”

“It's a kind of house,” said Nacie. “A donation to the cause.”

“But how — ”

“We're a sister company of Solar Industries,” said the man. “Your solar-powered generator will be delivered tomorrow.” He raised an eyebrow. “You could say it's your lucky day. Your lucky week.”

No shit.

“Where do you want it?” asked the guy with the stoner grin. He had a ponytail that fell to his waist.

“It's not my property,” I said, turning to Mr. D., who looked real concerned.

“Are we going to be some sort of billboard?” he asked. “And are you, Gray, expected to be a salesperson for this dome thing?”

“The way the company sees it,” said the boss guy, “is that it's exposure for the dome. You don't have to allow anyone on your property to view it but we are instructed to make it visible from the road. Hey,” the guy shrugged, “basically Earth Friendly likes what this kid stands for and wants to help out.”

“It would be nice to be a little warmer at night,” I said. “Not to mention dryer. Then there's the mosquitoes…” I scratched at my neck for effect. Please, I prayed, don't turn them away.

“This is what you're after, then,” grinned ponytail guy. “About the nicest outdoor living you could ask for.”

“The dome makes use of passive solar heat,” continued the boss. “There's a solar-powered fan for air circulation. Has what we call an earthen floor made of sand, clay, straw and water. This retains heat under your feet. Screens on all the windows will keep out pests. You even got a sink and built-in water purification system. Because you, my friend, are getting the new improved model.”

“Amazing,” was all I could say. “But, uh… it's not up to me.” I looked wide-eyed at Nacie, pleading without pleading. The place sounded incredible. Had to cost a wad.

“I think maybe it could go up on the hill beside your tent?” she suggested, looking amused. “It will look as if we're starting our own colony.”

I had to keep myself from whooping.

“Great spot,” said the compact guy. “There'll be enough sun for your fan and generator, and the dome will be visible from the road.”

“What do you think, Milan?” asked Nacie.

Mr. D. was still frowning. He was about to speak when Nacie turned to the delivery men. “If we don't like it, can we send it back?”

“Sure thing. Just have to call the company.” He dug a card out of his pocket. “We'll come dismantle it and take it away.”

“So I don't see that we have anything to lose, Milan?”

Mr. D. sighed and gestured up the drive. “All right. Go ahead.”

I let out my breath and smiled gratefully at Nacie. “Thanks, thanks so much. This is great.”

“Never a dull moment with you here, Gray,” she said. “Now, I have to get back to my strawberry jam.”

“Come, Gray,” said Mr. D., still frowning. “Let's get back to work.”

20
On a Roll

“I looked it up on line and the cost is twelve grand.” Dad's eyebrows rose at the number and I felt a rush of pride. “You got to come see it. It's amazing.”

I'd just finished describing my new house to Mom, Dad and Maggie. We were at the dinner table having dessert: ginger cake with tofu whipped cream. The cake was bitter, the tofu whipped cream a weird thought with a gross texture. I tried to eat it for Maggie's sake but just couldn't.

“There's even a cistern that collects rainwater and kills bacteria with ultraviolet light.”

“Hey, in his book, Dr. Emoto says if you use ultraviolet light instead of chlorine — ” Maggie coughed a tight, painful-sounding cough, “ — it still makes perfect ice crystals.”

“Cool. Mag, you should really come out. Breathe the clean country air. You could stay with me now that I have my own place.”

“Your own place, huh?” repeated Dad, not meeting my eye.

Yeah, Dad, I wanted to say, only sixteen and I had my own place, was making my own way without your help.

I looked at Mom. “I bet she wouldn't even need the oxygen tank.”

Maggie had been having trouble breathing lately and the doctor had prescribed oxygen to make her more comfortable. So up in her room was this noisy machine attached to a long plastic tube that she hooked into her nose. It made me all the more convinced she needed to get out of this house.

“I'm not sure about that, Gray,” said Mom.

“I have my own electricity, so she could bring her computer.” Maggie wasn't going to school any more but Mom had set up a home-schooling program for her via computer. “And we could bring the tank, though like I said, I doubt she'll need it. You'd be surprised,” I said, looking at Dad, “at the air-quality difference out there versus in town here.”

“I want to see where Gray lives,” said Maggie. She took a deep breath, chest heaving. “We could go look, anyway…” She started to cough.

“Let's get you over this coughing first,” said Mom, clearing her own throat. “And, well, I have some news too. I wanted to tell everyone that… I lost that banner commission. Easy come, easy go.”

“You've been too busy taking care of –”

“It's not your fault, Maggie,” cut in Dad. “Your mom could have found time if she'd wanted to.”

Mom glanced down at her hands. “Of course it's not your fault, sweetheart. It was just not that important. You're what's important to me, not some stupid old bank. I'll finish them one day and sell them to another stupid old bank.” She laughed, but it didn't sound very cheery.

My parents were too depressing.

“So, Mag, you should come have a sleepover. I'll cook up some farm fresh eggs for you. Spinach is happening, some wild scallions, fresh herbs. I got some goat cheese from this guy down the road. I'll make you the best omelet you've ever tasted. Nacie gave me a great recipe for stinging nettle soup. And she makes excellent oatmeal bread, and brownies you'd kill for.”

“I thought I wasn't allowed to eat brownies.” Maggie looked at me accusingly. She coughed, took another big breath, then another.

Man, it looked like it hurt her to breathe. She really had to get out of this house.

“Well, Nacie doesn't use any junky ingredients, so it's probably almost macro. I mean, you should see these people. They're both in their sixties and work like twelve-hour days. Heavy work, too.”

Mom took another bite of the cake no one else had touched after the first gagging taste.

“Some day this week you'll have to bring her out, Mom.”

“I'm just not sure — ”

“She can rest there as easy as here. And Mag, my dome has these picture windows and from my bed you can see hawks circling overhead for their lunch, watch the duck action down at the pond. I saw a nest in the cattails so I bet there'll be ducklings soon. And when Litze's inside, deer will come right up to the dome.”

Maggie's tired eyes lit up. “Maybe we'll see that skunk again.”

“Maybe.”

“I really want to go, Mom,” she coughed.

“Okay, okay. I'd like to see the dome, too. But I don't know if you should stay out there.”

“It would be a lot better than sleeping here,” I said and coughed myself just to prove it.

Dad, the spermbag, made a scoffing sound.

“Hey, what time is it?”

“Five to six,” said Dad.

“
Nightly News
in five minutes, starring…” I framed my face with my hands.

“We can take our dessert into the living room,” said Mom.

I caught Maggie's eye as we picked up our cake plates.

“Brownies,” I mouthed.

She licked her lips.

Mine was announced as one of tonight's top stories, boo yeah, though the announcer didn't say when it was coming on. So we sat through some stock market scandal — this English guy losing 8 billion dollars for a London bank — then an update on the war in Iraq before they went to commercial.

“I bet you're next,” said Maggie. Every time she spoke she had to take a couple of loud breaths, as if to make up the oxygen.

“Nobody's eating their cake,” said Mom.

“I'm pretty full,” I said.

“Me, too,” said Maggie, catching my eye again.

“Julia, your kids are just being polite. This cake is completely inedible,” said Dad.

Mom's spine straightened.

“Well, you could use some of that politeness,” she said and noisily collected the plates off the coffee table before disappearing into the kitchen. Then came the sound of things crashing into the sink.

“Nice one, Dad,” I said.

Dad pushed back his chair, stood up and left.

“Man, I can't believe you put up with this crap,” I said to Maggie. “No wonder you're sick.”

Maggie was holding her chest, which was heaving with each breath. Her eyes were half closed, like she might pass out.

“Mom,” I called and the panic in my voice brought her back in a flash.

“Upstairs,” she said to Maggie, easing her off the couch. “We need to get you hooked up. Come on.” Maggie obeyed and they were gone just as I saw Cynthia's face fill the screen. “Welcome to Happy Valley Farm.”

Great, I thought, looking around the empty room. I watched the segment alone. Came across even better than I'd thought. I didn't look half bad on camera, either.

I only hoped that Davis had got the word out and that kids from school were watching it. Namely Ciel. Because not only did I sound damn intelligent, my pecs looked all right coming out of the water.

* * *

I was downstairs answering a couple letters that had come that week. There would be a lot more after the TV segment.

Then out of nowhere, it hit me. Why hadn't I thought of it before? What was Maggie exposed to that other kids weren't?

I was typing
Silkscreen, Carcinogens
, when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Gray. It's Ciel.”

“Hey,” I said, all excited to hear her voice, then quickly got control of myself. “How's it going?” I said, keeping it cool.

“I saw you on the news tonight.”

Make her beg for it, I thought. I didn't respond.

“It was a really great interview.”

“Thanks.”

“I hope you got the letter from the E-Club.”

“Yeah. Got it.”

“The head of the school board wrote us back and said they'd look into it.”

“It's about time.”

“I hope, uh, Maggie's improving.”

“Not exactly.”

“God, I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault. Though maybe it is. All our faults for living like we do and buying the stuff we buy.”

“Yeah. You're right.”

Yeah, I'm right. Get used to it, I thought.

There was one of those uncomfortable gaps and I let her squirm.

“Well, I just wanted to say it was impressive, your interview.”

“Okay, well, thanks for calling.”

“Okay, bye.”

I hung up. Yeah, she wants me, I thought, swiveling a 360 in my chair.

I looked up at the screen.
Benzene is a common chemical found in silkscreen wash-ups.

Bingo.

That had to be it. It was something other kids weren't exposed to, and Mom got into silkscreen about a year or so before Maggie was born. Probably had concentrations of it in her blood when pregnant, so Maggie could have been exposed “in utero” like that doctor said. Hell, Mom used to work in the basement so there was probably benzene in the air, too. And Maggie was always making stuff…

It made perfect scientific sense. And who had figured it out? Not you, Dad.

I was about to bound upstairs when I stopped. This was going make Mom feel guilty as crap. But did I have any choice? No. She had to be told in order to stop exposing Maggie. Couldn't be good for her, either. I had to tell her right away. I mean, Maggie could finally start to get better. That was the important thing.