The Puzzle Master (13 page)

“And that whole thing with Mrs. Melton today, I swear you sounded like you knew something that you didn’t want to tell.”

“Don’t know what you mean,” said Marshall. They crossed the street, and headed toward the mini-mart.

“Yes, I think you do,” Michael held out a hand to stop him. “Where’s Iris? Is she playing hooky? Or is she at the store just waiting for you to come back to her?’

“Cut it out Mike, come on.”

“No you come on; you never acted so weird with a girl—with anyone—before. What’s she got that’s so special?”

“Nothing,” Marshall sighed.
“Nothing at all.”

“No there is something. I can tell. And if you don’t tell me, I don’t care what toy you come up with, you’re not joining the club. You hear that?” He pointed at Marshall’s chest and then crossed his arms. “Now tell me what’s up. And don’t say it’s because her uncle owns the store. You never cared to spend
this
much time here until now.”

It was infuriating. Marshall wanted to keep quiet about it all. But if he did, then Michael would harass him for the rest of the year. He was already sick and tired of the girlfriend jokes swirling around him like a bunch of flies. He just wanted Michael to leave him alone, leave Iris alone. For heaven’s sake, she was still getting over being sick.

“She’s had cancer.
Leukemia.”

Michael didn’t say anything. His lower jaw just sort of dropped open. “You mean like, cancer as in sick in her blood?”

“Yep.”
Great.
Now he’d done it. He’d told Michael. The whole school would know about it by tomorrow morning. His mind was racing.
Although, maybe they wouldn’t
.
It was a tender subject; something that hopefully everyone would understand. Maybe, he could do damage control if necessary.

“Look, you got to keep quiet about it,” said Marshall, tugging at his ear in nervousness. “She’s not at school ‘
cause
she has a checkup or something.”

“So she doesn’t have the cancer anymore?”

Marshall shook his head no. “Just stay quiet. She’s getting over it all, and now she has to live with her uncle ‘
cause
her aunt is sick.”

“What she doesn’t have parents?”

“Nah, they died a while ago.” Michael kicked the road with his foot, and they walked on to the front of Luke’s store. “Just don’t talk about it to anyone. You got to promise. I told Iris I would keep quiet about it.”

Michael nodded, still looking somewhat concerned, and they parted ways. But Marshall knew that telling Michael this big secret wasn’t a good thing. Michael was
the
kid; the one everyone went to in order to feel cool, to know info, to watch him out of awe and reverence. And yet, even if he told the whole school, for once Michael might just tell the secret because he
has
a heart; tell the secret because cancer
was
a big deal.

Michael may have a heart, a tiny one, but it was still a beating, real one nonetheless. And Marshall, though ticked off to high heaven with foe-friend Michael, could still appreciate that about him.

***

Marshall went to the store. The bell tinkled as he walked in and Marshall wound his way through the tiny pathway to the front counter. He felt like he just betrayed his family, even though he
wasn’t related
to Iris. He felt awful. Michael was going to say something about the
cancer,
and all because Marshall opened his big mouth.

“Hey Marsh, I’m going to get Iris tonight. She’ll be back to school tomorrow.”

“Great.” Marshall wanted to be happy. But how could he? He just gave away her secret.

“Is everything okay?” Luke looked concerned.
“Someone bothering you?”

“No, I’m fine, really. Um, I don’t think I’m going to work on the puzzle this afternoon. I’m not …” how could he explain it? “I’m not feeling so great.”

Luke cocked his head to the side. “Okay, Iris might be a bit disappointed. She sort of thought you’d have it more than started by now.” Boy would she ever be disappointed, Marshall thought. He’d just told the most popular kid that she’d had cancer. How could he trump that?

“I did start it actually. I … I’ll come back tomorrow night. That way we both can get going on it together.”

Marshall got out of there before he threw up. He was disgusted with himself. He walked home, the heat of the day dwindling down. The days were already getting shorter, the mornings were darker, and Marshall knew autumn was at their doorstep.

He trudged through dinner, picking at his food. He wasn’t hungry. But no one noticed. Not really anyway. Leila was talking about the new letters she was learning in kindergarten, Mason wasn’t home yet because of football practice, his dad was eating, but only listening … maybe.
Definitely not engaged in the conversation.

“Marsh honey, aren’t you going to eat?” His mother
had
noticed.

Marshall groaned slightly and leaned on his hand. “I don’t feel so good.” What would Iris say to him? Would she even speak to him, or let him come over to Luke’s anymore? He
could be ostracized
from the only people he wanted to spend time with.

His mother put a hand on his forehead. “You don’t feel hot, but you look awful. Maybe you should go lie down.”

He groaned again. Good idea. He should lie down, maybe that would take away the nausea.

Marshall left the table. Leila was looking at him funny, almost
like
she knew what was wrong with him. But how could she? She was five, dumb and an absolute pest. He crashed onto his bed and rolled onto his side. His room’s window was open, and a tiny breeze trickled in.

How would he sleep tonight? He’d be racking his brain thinking of excuses to why he told Michael. Iris was smart. She’d have to know that it
was practically forced
from him.
Right?
Didn’t they both want to keep their sickness on the quiet side?

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Tiny specs of texture covered it, making it look like popcorn. He hated the ceiling. It reminded him of cottage cheese and how much he hated that stuff too.

He made a list of excuses.
Number
1.
Michael beat him up and told him to tell him where Iris
was, that
was why he told.
No that wouldn’t do.
He didn’t have a scratch or bruise worth anything to prove he was beaten. Okay.
Number 2.
Michael took his inhaler and vowed not to return it if he didn’t tell.
No, that wouldn’t work either. Iris already knew he was trying to stop using the thing, not to mention, he had a back up already, waiting for him in the bathroom cupboard.
Alright
.
Number 3
.
Well, by then, he couldn’t think of the third excuse. All of them were lame, he was lame. He would just have to tell her the truth tomorrow.

He rolled over to his other side. He wished he’d never said anything at all.

***

Wednesday arrived and Marshall took his time dressing. He
hoped somehow Iris wouldn’t show up
; that she would take another day off and recuperate from the checkup.

The bus was waiting for him, and after the third honk, he rushed out the door with a kiss from his mom. Mason was holding his hands up, implying Marshall should have been on the bus a long time ago. But Marshall didn’t care. He had to face Iris, and he had to get it over
with
.

The bus was its usual fullness, but the girl he normally sat next to wasn’t there. She was sitting next to her other snob-friend
Sandra,
and they were snickering to each other. That wasn’t anything new. What
was
new was their looking at him, and then whispering to each other and then looking at him again.

Marshall sat down. He could feel more than their pair of eyes staring into the back of his head. Come to think of it, the entire bus was very quiet. He slowly turned around. All eyes were on him, just as he suspected. Even his brother was staring at him. What was going on? That usual morning buzz wasn’t there; it was more like a giant whisper, like the flutter of insects’ wings flapping around.

The five minutes it took to
get to school seemed
like forever. And when they finally got there, he scrambled out of his seat and off the bus before anyone had a chance to say something to him. Not that they would. They all seemed more content to talk about him behind his back.

Marshall walked to homeroom and kept his head down. He could see feet, shoes actually, tennis shoes, sandals, high tops, and especially the skateboard shoes that Michael wore. He walked right past them though, and Michael said nothing. In fact, if Marshall wasn’t mistaken, it felt like everyone was walking away from him.
Avoiding him.

He plopped into his seat. Iris was right in front of him. There she was and here was his chance. And he had to say something now before anyone else said something first.

But when she turned around, her usual soft brown eyes and small, sweet smile was gone. Vanished, like smoke.

She knew. Somehow, she’d already found out.

“I’m sorry,” Marshall whispered. She looked paler, and the dark circles under her eyes made her look like she
’d been punched
in the face.

“It’s alright.”

Marshall started. “No, it’s not. I was an idiot.” He looked around. Homeroom was quiet. People were talking in whispers, obviously about the cancer. “Now everyone is whispering.”

“So? At least they know now. It
’s done
. Actually, it’s more of a relief. I’m glad you said something.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, now I don’t have to pretend I don’t have a problem, or uh, had a problem.”

“But I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

She shook her head side to side. “It’s fine. It
’s done
. Promise to meet me at Luke’s after school?’

It seemed too good to be true. Iris had just accepted and forgiven him in one fell swoop. She was too perfect. Her hair tossed to and fro waiting for his reply, and waiting for him to look at her.

“I’ll be there.”

***

Iris and Marshall walked to Luke’s. But not without talking about how
odd
everyone behaved. The three amigos didn’t even joke about them being together once, the entire day. It was as if everyone accepted them together, that her condition—her old condition—gave a reason for him to do whatever he pleased. It was
like
everyone thought of Marshall as the kind one; the one who had shown acceptance to the new girl.
The very girl who once had a death sentence.

“Why are you so quiet?” she asked when they crossed the street.

“I don’t know. I just can’t stop thinking about how I ruined everything for you.”

“Marsh, stop it. You tell me to stop worrying about my condition, or Luke’s condition and I’m asking you to do the same. Stop worrying.”

He jabbed at her side, and assented.
“Fine.
But I owe you. Like, I owe you …” and he thought about it, “a new puzzle, or to do this one all by myself and frame it for you.”

She laughed. “Oh, good luck.”

They stopped giggling when they passed the mini mart. Luke had his feet up on the counter and the smoke circled his head like a halo. Good old Luke was back at it again. Perfect.

“Hey kids, how was your day?’ They proceeded to tell him what happened. Marshall winced and groaned through Iris’s entire explanation and description, but Luke was entertained.

“I don’t think anyone will ever bother you two again.” The phone rang, and Iris and Marshall walked to the back room. They popped open apple juice and corn chips and sat on the floor with the picture of the ten-thousand-piece puzzle.

“That would be an amazing place to live, don’t you think?” Iris was leaning back on her hands, gazing at the picture as if lost inside of it.

“It would.” Marshall agreed. “Except that we’d have to slop the hogs, milk the cows, collect the eggs.”

She smiled.
“How fun.”

“No,” said Marshall, “more like how hard. Then we’d have to keep another garden so we could feed ourselves, and keep the barn in shape and the house.” Marshall stopped talking and they could hear the country music coming in through the crack under the door.

“All I’ve ever lived in is a city,” Iris said, sitting
criss
-cross now. Her face looked even paler than last time he’d seen her. “I would love to live in the country.”

Marshall nodded in agreement. “Me too, but it’s a ton of work I’m sure. Just keeping my mom’s garden clean and picked is a chore all by itself. Imagine acres of them.”

She smiled. “Yeah,” showing her
slightly-yellowish
teeth, maimed from chemotherapy. “Imagine that. Such freedom, freedom from people, freedom from buildings...”

“From stupid clubs and annoying sisters…”

“From hospitals and hallways, treatments, drugs and bone marrow transplants.
It would be so peaceful there, just
like
the picture looks. And we’d be surrounded by fields, and other farms and cows …”