Saturday Boy (13 page)

“Okay.”

“And I'm sorry for thinking you'd want to leave after what happened with Budgie back there. You're a lot tougher than I give you credit for sometimes. Your dad would be—well, he'd be very proud you didn't give up.”

It hurt to smile but I didn't care.

“Derek, there you are. Are you okay?” said Mr. Putnam.

“My mouth tastes like pennies.”

“How are they?”

“Okay I guess.”

“You must be Derek's mother,” he said, putting his hand out. “I'm John Putnam.”

“Annie Lamb.”

“Pleased to meet you, Annie. Would you mind if I borrowed Derek for a little while? We're going to take a mulligan and start again.”

“But he's just been in a—yes. Yes, of course. Borrow away.” Mom hugged me tight and kissed my cheek and smiled, whispering in my ear, “Good luck, baby bear.”

“Actors don't say ‘good luck,' Mom.”

“Oh, they don't, do they?”

“No. They say, ‘Break a leg.'”

“Considering what just happened I'm not going to do that. Is there anything else you can say?”

“Dancers have been known to say, ‘
Merde
,'” said Mr. Putnam helpfully.

“What's that?” I asked.

“It's French,” Mom said, giving Mr. Putnam a look.

“Does it mean good luck?”

“It means poop,” said Mom.

I burst out laughing. I tried to stop because it hurt my face but I couldn't.

“He's all yours,” said Mom.

She gave me another quick hug and told me she'd be in the front row. Then she went through the backstage door and into the theater. Mr. Putnam had me go back to the green room and this time I stayed until Missy Sprout came to get me. I took my place onstage. I said my lines. I embraced Violet and remembered to let her lead me off. I even sneaked a little wave to my mom as we disappeared into the wings.

“WHO WAS YOUR FAVORITE
person in the play?”

Me and M om were driving home. It was dark, and snow was blowing around outside the windows. I was still thinking about how Mr. Howard had come backstage after the play and when he was done congratulating everybody he took me aside. He told me he was proud of me and that I had showed a lot of character, pun intended. I beamed. I couldn't help it. Then he'd said we were going to have to talk about what had happened but not until after vacation. I still beamed. Only a little bit less. I fogged up the window with my breath and wrote my name in it.

“You were.”

“I was?”

“Of course you were.”

“What about Scrooge?”

“Didn't care for him.”

“What about the ghosts?”

“Nope. No way. You were by far my favorite. It was really neat seeing you up there, Derek, and I'm so proud of you I could burst.”

I smiled, looking out the window at the passing neighborhood. Christmas lights blinked in the trees and around front doors and along fences. Light-up icicles dangled from gutters. Robot Santas waved from front yards. In one yard, the two deer I thought for sure were fake suddenly bolted away when the garage door opened and light splashed out into the driveway. They were beautiful, crossing the next- door neighbor's yard in three big leaps and disappearing into the woods. My heart raced. I'd seen deer at the zoo before but this was way better. I was still thinking about them when Mom pulled into our driveway a few minutes later.

“Notice anything different?” asked Mom as she turned off the car.

“No, I—hey, you put lights up!”

They blinked and winked in the bushes next to the door and they flashed where they wound up the light post. The last time my dad was home for Christmas he'd gotten up on a ladder and run colored lights all along the gutters as well. That was a couple years ago though, and because Mom was afraid of heights we hadn't had them up there since.

I stood in the driveway and stared at the gutters, trying to remember exactly how they had looked all lit up for Christmas but I couldn't—at least not exactly. I pulled my coat tight and shivered. My mom was standing next to me and I could tell by the way her head was tilted that she was looking at the darkened gutters, too.

“Your lights look nice, Mom.”

She looked down at me and smiled and put her arm around my shoulders. We stood like that in the driveway in the cold and looked at them until Aunt Josie opened the door and called us crazy for being outside for so long.

“Oh my God, Derek, what happened to your eye?” Aunt Josie asked once she saw my face.

“Me and Budgie threw down.”

“Threw what down?”

“Nothing. We got in a fight. Y'know—threw down? Like they say on TV?”

“Oh, threw
down.
Of course. My bad,” said Aunt Josie. “Are you okay? Do you want some meat for it?”

“Meat for what?”

“Your eye.”

“Ew, no! Why would I want—how would I—no. No thanks.”

“I think it's already done all the swelling it's going to do,” Mom said. “Does it hurt when I do this?”

“
Ow!
What are you doing? Don't
touch
it!”

I jumped up from my seat and ran away a little, holding my hand over my eye for protection. Maybe it would be a good idea to get an eye patch. That way I'd have both hands free to defend myself.

“Sorry, sweetie!” Mom said. “I just wanted to feel if anything was broken. I
am
a nurse, remember?”

“Nothing's broken! It was fine until you started messing with it.”

“How's your tongue?”

“What happened to his tongue?”

“He bit it.”

“Now my mouth tastes like pennies,” I said. “Also look!”

I wiggled the loose tooth with my tongue.

“Oh my God!” said Aunt Josie, cringing. “When did all this happen?”

“During act one. It's a baby tooth—see?”

I pulled my lip down and really wiggled it. Aunt Josie made a face and waved her hands like they were covered in spiders.

“Augh! Stop it!” she squealed. “Stopitstopitstopit!”

“What?”

“Loose teeth freak me out.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don't know. They just give me the willies,” she said, shuddering. “So please—for me—could you stop? Or am I going to have to turn my eyelids inside out?”

I stopped,
immediately
understanding what she was talking about. Loose teeth were one thing but turning your eyelids inside out? Now
that
was gross.

* * *

I helped Mom set the table. I put the plates out. I poured the milk. I even remembered which side the fork went on. Aunt Josie had made potatoes au gratin and green beans to go with the roast. I normally didn't like green beans but Aunt Josie had put crumbled-up bacon in them so they were okay. Sort of like the way broccoli was gross unless it was smothered in cheese. I wondered if the secret to cooking was just adding stuff you liked to stuff you didn't like.

Aunt Josie got the roast out of the oven and sliced pieces of it onto a plate and brought the plate to the table. Mom brought over the beans and potatoes and we all sat down. Nobody moved for a minute. Nobody said anything either. A big quiet dropped over the table like a blanket. Dad's chair had never seemed emptier.

“Have some wine with me, Jo?” Mom said.

She got up from the table and got a bottle from the rack. Then she dug through a drawer until she found a corkscrew and opened the bottle with it. She got two wine glasses from the cupboard, gave them a quick rinse, and brought them and the bottle back to the table.

I ate my dinner. Mom and Aunt Josie put food on their plates, too, but by the time I'd finished eating they'd barely started and I'd even had a second helping of potatoes. Nobody was really saying anything and the quiet was starting to drive me nuts.

“Do you think Santa will come this year?”

“Why wouldn't he? You've been good, haven't you?”

It felt like a trick question.

“I've been pretty good.”

“I would say you've been
very
good, Derek,” said Mom. “It's been tough and you've handled yourself well and I'm proud of you. You might not always use the good sense that God gave you but you
are
only eleven years old and sometimes eleven-year-olds just don't act the way you'd like them to.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“
But
,” said Mom, holding up a finger, “your heart's in the right place, Derek. You're a good kid—a
great
kid. I can see it. Your aunt Josie can see it. Ms. Dickson can see it. And I'm pretty sure Santa can see it, too.”

“When do you think he stops watching?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he's got to load the sleigh and stuff.”

“Are you worried he saw what happened today?”

“Yes.”

“I hate to tell you this, Piggy, but he probably did. Don't freak out, though—Santa takes the whole year into consideration and not just the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas,” said Mom. “And he doesn't load the sleigh, anyway—the elves do. It's a union thing.”

I guess I knew that, too. I mean, I'd seen a lot of Christmas movies and it seemed like the elves did most of the work and Santa just stood around eating cookies and taking all the credit.

* * *

After dinner we decorated the tree. We strung lights all around it and hung ornaments from the branches and I got to stand on a chair and put the angel on top. When we were done decorating Aunt Josie turned the room lights off and the tree lights on and we all sat on the couch and looked at them for a while in silence. Snow was falling outside the windows and I was glad to be inside, safe and warm, snuggled between Mom and Aunt Josie. I could have stayed like that forever.

“What time is it?” I mumbled, feeling all fuzzy-headed and sleepy.

“Hm?”

Mom sounded like she was half-asleep. Aunt Josie was out completely. Her head was leaned back and her mouth was open and she was snoring.

“Time?”

“Hm? Oh . . . oh shoot! How'd it get to be nine thirty already?” she said, pushing herself up off the couch. “C'mon, c'mon. Let's brush teeth.”

I rubbed my good eye, scratched my head, and yawned. Then I rose slowly and zombied through the kitchen and up the stairs to the bathroom. Mom had put my toothbrush on the sink for me. She was in her bedroom, probably putting her pajamas on.

“Where's the toothpaste?”

“Next to your toothbrush.”

“Where's
my
toothpaste?”

“Just use mine.”

“I like mine better,” I said. “Mine tastes like bubblegum.”

“Please use mine.”

“I'll just use the mouthwash instead.”

“Derek, don't—wait! Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“It sounded like an elf! Hurry! Brush your teeth and get in bed! Quick!”

I grabbed Mom's toothpaste, squeezed some onto my brush, and started brushing. It tasted awful. Thankfully, it wasn't in my mouth very long because I only brushed once in each direction before spitting it out. Then I ran down the hallway and into bed, kissing Mom good night as the quilt was still settling around me.

“Derek?”

“Yes?”

“Did you turn the water off?”

“Um . . . yes?” I said, pulling the quilt over my head.

“Derek.”

“I forgot. Sorry.”

“Don't worry I'll get it,” Mom said. “Good night, sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” I fell asleep a little while later, listening hard for Santa's reconnaissance elves.

ON CHRISTMAS MORNING,
I got out of bed, put on a sweatshirt and slippers, and snuck downstairs, careful not to wake Mom because it was still a little earlier than she would have liked. I peered around the doorway into the living room and in the dim light coming through the window could see Aunt Josie was asleep on the pullout with one of those mask thingies over her eyes. Which meant I could plug in the tree without waking her. So I did.

I could see my stocking hanging from the mantel. It reminded me of something I saw on Adventure Kids once where they showed a python swallowing a goat, only instead of a leg sticking out of it there were candy canes, which was just as cool but in a totally different way.

I walked around the pullout to the fireplace, took down my stocking, sat on the floor, and dumped it out. Chocolate Santas and a bag full of tiny plastic ninjas tumbled into my lap. I held my stocking by the toe and shook it until a package of batteries and a couple of packs of Dinoboy cards fell out. There was something left in the stocking, though, so I stuck my hand in and grabbed it and wiggled it until it got loose. I pulled the package out and turned it over. It was an official Zeroman watch.

“Coooool.”

The watch was encased in plastic and I turned it over and over in my hands, trying to figure out how to open it. I tried tearing it. I tried biting it. Nothing worked.

“Need some help?” Aunt Josie's voice made me jump. She was sitting up in bed with the mask thing pushed up on her forehead.

“Look! Look! Santa came!”

“I see that,” said Aunt Josie. “Merry Christmas, kiddo.”

“Merry Christmas!”

I climbed up onto the bed, gave her a giant hug, and dropped the package in her lap.

“Can you help me open this?”

Aunt Josie picked up the package, turned it over in her hands a couple times, and then pulled it apart. The watch fell out onto the bed and I scooped it up and strapped it on.

“Now open mine,” she said. “It's under the tree.”

I scrambled off the bed and found Aunt Josie's gift to me. It was a book. And its shape and weight suggested it was an educational one. I looked at Aunt Josie, hoping I didn't seem too disappointed.

“Don't worry,” she said. “It's not a book.”

“It's not?”

“It's a football.”

“Really?”

She didn't have to tell me to stop being ridiculous. The look she gave me did that well enough. Maybe a little too well, actually.

“Just open it,” she said.

I got back up on the bed and sat next to her. She put her arm around me and held me close as I removed the wrapping paper.

“He-ey, cooool!”

It
was
an educational book. But in the best way possible.

“Are there any presents left?” Mom asked from the doorway.

“Mom! Mom! Look what Aunt Josie got me! A book about samurais! Thanks, Aunt Josie!”

“You're welcome, Derek,” said Aunt Josie. “I had a feeling you'd like it.”

Mom sat down and then dragged me into her arms and hugged me. She was still warm from her bed and her hair smelled like sleep and dreams. We didn't let go of each other until Aunt Josie got out of bed a few minutes later and started rummaging around in the kitchen opening and closing the cabinets.

“Please tell me you're not out of coffee,” she shouted.

“There's some in the pantry,” said Mom. Then she saw the Zeroman watch I was wearing. “Ooh, what's that? Show me what that does.”

I showed her all the stuff the watch could do.

“Wow,” said Mom. “So how do you tell time on it?”

“What do you mean?”

“It's a watch, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So which button do you press to find out what time it is?”

“I don't know. I don't think it's that kind of watch.”

* * *

Aunt Josie made her special French toast for breakfast and afterward we went back into the living room to open more presents. I knelt in front of the tree, picked one up, and tore into it. Time seemed to speed up. Things blurred. When I'd run out of presents, I stopped and slowly looked around. The room looked like a tornado had hit it. Mom and Aunt Josie sat on the couch, holding their coffees, watching me.

“What?”

“Nothing,” said Aunt Josie. “I think you may have just broken some kind of fast Christmas record, that's all.”

I nodded. Maybe later on I could call the world record people and ask about it. The phone rang a little while later while I was flipping through my samurai book and Mom got up and went into the kitchen to answer it.

Then she came back to the living room with the coffee pot and emptied it into Aunt Josie's mug with the phone pinned between her ear and shoulder.

“After lunch should be fine, Helen,” she was saying. “We'll be here.”

She said some other things, too, but she said them as she was going back into the kitchen so I didn't really hear her. Why was Budgie's mom calling? I bet it was about the fight. I bet Budgie had lied and told her it was all my fault and that he was totally innocent so now she wanted to come over and get her licks in, too. I heard Mom hang up the phone.

“Derek, that was Budgie's mom on the phone. They're coming over for tea later.”

“When?”

“Three o'clock.”

“Why?”

“I guess Budgie has something he wants to say to you.”

“What is it?”

“I don't know. She wouldn't say.”

“Well I don't want to hear it.”

Mom came back into the living room and sat down on the couch and looked at me. Her face told me she was carefully choosing each word before she put them all together and said them.

“What if it's good?” she asked. “You'd want to hear it if it was good, right?”

“The only good thing to come out of Budgie's mouth was the time he burped the alphabet all the way to Q.”

“That's disgusting.”

“You shoulda been there. It even smelled like fish sticks.”

“Ew, that's—why are you laughing?”

“I'm not!”

But I was. I totally was. I tried to stop but I kept thinking about that day and how Missy Sprout's face had gone green and she'd almost passed out and the more I thought about it the harder I laughed. Mom sat back on the couch and folded her arms.

“Whenever you're ready,” she said.

Her mouth was trying to be serious but the rest of her face was laughing. We probably could've laughed longer but I got a bad case of the hiccups and had to stop because Budgie said that if you hiccup and laugh at the same time your lungs can come out of your mouth. Seriously. He'd seen it on the news and everything.

“They're coming at three?” asked Aunt Josie. “Derek, what time is it now?”

“I don't know.”

“You're wearing a watch.”

“It's not that kind of watch.”

“What kind of watch is it?”

“It's this kind.”

I held up my wrist, pressed a button, and zapped Aunt Josie with the laser beam.

* * *

The doorbell rang at ten past three and I jumped off the couch and ran upstairs to my room and closed the door. I didn't care if what Budgie had to say
was
good. I didn't even care if it was
awesome
. Nothing he could say would change anything. I flopped onto my bed and stared up at the spot where the Apache helicopter used to be. I was determined to stay there until Mom came to get me. Even then I wasn't sure I'd go quietly. After a few minutes there was a knock at the door.

“Who is it?”

“Dude, just open up.”

Budgie! What was he doing here? Mom was supposed to have been the one to come get me! Now I wouldn't be able to make Budgie wait in the kitchen or anything.

“I know you're in there. Your mom said.”

“Leave a message after the beep.”

“Stop being a dork and open the door!”

I wasn't sure why Budgie thought calling me a dork would get me to let him in but I went to the door anyway. I figured the sooner I let him in, the sooner I could show him out. I opened it a crack and peeked through.

“What?”

I tried to sound mean but then I saw his face and suddenly I didn't feel like being mean anymore. In fact, I didn't think I could be mean now if I wanted to. Even though most of Budgie's face had healed over the past few days, his nose still reminded me of a poisonous mushroom.

“So can I come in?” he asked. “I wanna show you something.”

He held up his cell phone and wiggled it a little. I opened the door the rest of the way and he came in. His nose looked worse in the light of my bedroom. It was all bulgy and purple and in a weird way I hoped I looked just as bad. That way it would be fair. I was pretty sure I did. At least it felt like I did. Budgie sat on the bed and started pressing buttons on his phone.

“Did you have something to tell me?”

“Nope.”

“But my mom said your mom said you did.”

“Oh yeah.” He sniffled a little, wiping his nose on his sweater sleeve and leaving a glistening trail. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Y'know, for being mean. And stuff.” His voice sounded funny—like he had a really bad cold. “Okay, it's downloading! C'mere! C'mere!”

I sat next to him and he held the phone so we could both see the screen. Some of Budgie's excitement must have rubbed off on me because I started to feel all tingly.

“What is it?”

“Hang on a sec.”

My eyes were glued to the screen. I didn't want to blink because I was afraid I'd miss it. I held my breath.

“Okay, here it is!”

I let my breath out. I blinked my eyes. I hadn't been sure what to expect but it certainly wasn't what I was looking at now. I felt a little bit cheated.

“So what?” I said. “It's just somebody's stupid school play.”

“It's not just any stupid school play—it's
our
stupid school play.”

I looked more closely at the screen. Budgie was right. It
was
our play! I suddenly got a strange feeling in my stomach—like it was dropping into my shoes and climbing out of my throat at the same time. Onstage, Mr. Cratchit and the rest of his family were looking off toward the wings as if they'd heard something.

“Here it comes,” said Budgie.

I didn't have to look at him to know he was smiling. I could hear it in his voice. I knew what was about to happen and it didn't seem like something to smile about. And when it did happen it was hard for me to watch.

I tried to pretend that the boy tumbling out onstage with Budgie wasn't me. I tried to pretend that it wasn't me punching Budgie over and over again as he tried to get up and that they weren't my tears shining in the spotlight. I just didn't try hard enough.

“Wanna see it again?” Budgie asked.

“No thanks.”

“It's funny though, right?”

“Where did you get it?”

“My mom found it on online.”

“How?”

“Barely's mom called and told her it was there. It's already gotten a whole bunch of hits. Dude, we're gonna be famous!”

“Wait, your mom didn't go see the play?”

“No,” he said. His smile went away and he put the phone down. “But it's not like I was in it or anything. Plus, it was mostly middle schoolers.”

“So what?”

“Sew a button on your butt, that's what.”

Normally that would have been hilarious. Budgie smiled a little. But quickly. Then it was gone.

“What about your dad?”

“He was at work.”

“I don't get it,” I said. “Why wouldn't your mom come see the play?”

Budgie's hands were in his lap. He played with his fingers like he didn't know what else to do with them. Then he mumbled something.

“What?”

“I disappointed her too much.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Remember that time I said that your parents love you less and less each time you disappoint them?”

“Kinda.”

Budgie looked at me. Then he looked back into his lap.

“I think I disappointed her too much.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it. I don't wanna talk about it.”

He stood up and walked around the room. He looked at the posters on my walls. He touched the stuff on my desk. He pretty much kept his back to me the whole time. A few minutes went by and neither of us said anything.

“My parents don't love me anymore,” he said suddenly.

“That's not true! Parents
have
to love their kids. It's in the constitution or something.”

“Oh yeah? Then why'd they hire Phoebe to look after me? It's not like they suddenly had more stuff to do! They just don't want to deal with me anymore. Mom even said.”

“What? No way!”

“Yes way! She's always saying stuff like that,” he said. Then in his mom voice he added, “‘Marion, I can't deal with you right now! Marion, I'm all done with you!'”