from the outside.
But
opening the door
is like licking the cherry coating off
a GrossBomb.
You don’t want to do it.
SPECTACULAR DEAL
I can’t do my homework
at the kitchen table
because today it’s covered
with clothes.
I hope there’s a pair of longer pants
or looser shorts for me, but
it’s all women’s clothing.
My heart does a loop-de-loop.
Maybe Dad has been cleaning out the closets.
Maybe he is finally letting go.
Then I see tags, tags, tags.
I sift through the pile.
My hand brushes something lacy.
I jump back.
Gross.
Ladies’ underwear does not belong
on the kitchen table.
At least it’s new, with tags.
Dad emerges,
headphones blasting one of his favorite
Yann Tiersen piano compositions.
Dad! I shout.
Dad! I wave a bright pink something in his direction like a flag.
I really hope it’s not another pair of underpants.
He looks up, unplugs.
Hey, bud.
What’s all this? I ask.
Big sale at the Rummage Room today.
Wait. That means somebody wore all this stuff before…
I have a sudden urge to wash my hands.
Everything’s in excellent condition.
He picks up a bra
with the most gigantic boob cups I’ve ever seen.
If I had a conjoined twin, we could wear
that monstrosity on our heads like a double hat.
I can’t decide
if I should laugh
or barf.
Wednesday is half-price day.
And I had a bonus coupon!
A spectacular deal,
too good to pass up.
But, Dad, this is girl stuff.
Who’s going to wear it?
He surveys the heap.
His fingers
fidget,
tremble…
He mumbles,
his voice
small,
brittle.
Before I can remind him
that Mom’s never coming back,
the headphones clamp over his head,
cords like tentacles
pulling him farther
and farther
away.
LOST
Dad? Dad?
I
follow
him
down
the
basement
stairs…
I only make it
halfway
before I stop—
shocked
to see
piles,
once mesmerizing,
now
in total disarray.
So eerie.
Just plain creepy,
glowing
in the bluish
light.
Growing
bigger,
faster,
than ever before.
T-MINUS 108
We have a swim meet
in two weeks.
Coach Baker says
a scout will be there.
Georgia stays at the pool
later
and later,
practicing her dives.
I stay, too,
to practice a little.
But mostly to
hang out with Georgia,
avoid Tyson and Keith,
and postpone going home.
HIGH DIVE
Georgia’s wet toes
cling to the
edge
of the diving
platform.
She’s calm,
happy even,
teetering on the
brink.
I wish I felt
the same
but I hate
c
l
i
m
b
i
n
g
up
there.
My vision goes
wobbly; my brain
floods
with worries.
I’d much rather swim laps,
nice and flat, back and forth.
Georgia inhales.
Her knees
become springs.
Her body,
a brave spear.
Straight fingertips,
pressed palms,
the arrowhead.
She’s much more graceful now
than the day we met.
WARM WELCOME
A little over two years ago
our fourth-grade teacher announced
that a new girl would be joining our class.
I remember Liam whispering,
Whoopee-cushion welcome?
Itching-powder handshake?
I could probably find some spiders
to put in her desk!
I shook my head firmly. No.
I had transferred to Bullhead City Elementary a year earlier
so I knew
it was hard enough to be the new kid
without a bunch of doofus pranksters
putting spiders in your desk.
Aw, come on, Liam whined.
Pranks are harmless. They’re fun!
You do remember what fun is, right?
Sure, I do.
But your pranks are too…
I searched for the right word.
Unpredictable.
Dude, duh. That’s the point.
Just leave the new girl alone. Okay?
GEORGIA
Turned out, the joke was on us.
Or, rather, on me. Literally.
The first time I met Georgia
she nearly killed me.
One minute
I was splashing around in the pool
hollering Polo!
to Liam’s Marco!
The next minute
out of nowhere
this girl plummeted out of the sky—
a human cannonball
landing
smack
dab
on
my
head.
UNEXPECTED
The lifeguard helped me out of the water.
He gave me a thorough checkup,
called me a resilient little dude.
I’m never swimming
under the diving board again, I told Mom later.
That’s probably a good idea, she agreed.
And I’m staying far away from that new girl!
Really? The lifeguard said she stuck around
to make sure you were okay.
She did, I replied grudgingly.
And she shared her root beer with you, right?
I nodded. She actually let me have the whole can.
She was either very generous or didn’t want to swap germs.
Still, I could have gotten
a bloody nose,
a concussion,
a broken neck!
But you didn’t, Mom reminded me gently,
tempering my fears
with happier pos
sibilities.
Look on the bright side:
you dodged disaster
AND made a new friend in the process.
New friend? I scoffed. I’m not so sure…
But Mom had a knack
for seeing things
other people missed.
BLOOM
We used to plant flowers
in window boxes
at the front of our house.
Every spring
Mom and I visited the garden center
that smelled like fresh, wet dirt.
We’d start with an empty black tray
and leave with a rainbow:
orange marigolds,
red geraniums,
purple ones with smiley-looking faces.
Mom always bought a few
without flowers,
just leaves and
hard green buds.
Why not get the prettier ones? I asked.
These have potential.
They’ll surprise us
and give us beauty
when all the others
have stopped
blooming.
FULL
Back then,
our house felt
full.
Bursting, even.
But never
crowded,
cluttered,
claustrophobic.
Because
love
doesn’t take up
too much room.
GROWTH
BAFFLED
I’m baffled, pondering
whether Dad’s brilliant brain
understands something special
about these random
scraps
thingamajigs
knickknacks
bric-a-brac
hunks of junk
that my lesser brain
does not.
The way
Mom knew
to buy the plants
with the hard green buds.
Otherwise,
why would he hang on
to all this stuff?
HISTORY
We’re starting a new unit
on Arizona.
Ms. Treehorn says,
Patayan, Mojave, Chemehuevi
and many others were here
long before us.
Long before
anyone called this place Bullhead.
We will learn about
language, culture, history, and more.
She says,
It’s important
to understand
where we come from.
To respect
those who came before,
and those we live alongside now.
To appreciate
the places
that make us
who we are.
I can’t help but think about
the mess at home.
What does it mean
if you come from garbage?
T-MINUS 101
On Friday
Liam’s mom, Sharon,
pulls me inside
their bright, loud, clean home.
Her thin arms are as strong
as two boa constrictors.
Liam says she’s been doing yoga.
Sheer madness here! As usual, she says.
Unlike my house, this chaos—
dogs barking, television blaring, dishes clanking—
is of the cheerful variety.
Coming here for a sleepover
feels like a mini-vacation.
Sharon gives me one more
bone-crushing hug.
So? How are you, babe?
It should be weird
that Liam’s mom
calls me babe.
But she’s been calling me that
since I first stepped into this house,
nearly three and a half years ago.
Plus, she’s feeding me dinner tonight
(and she makes really good lasagna)
so I let the nickname slide.
THE BLOB
Liam rented The Blob
for our sleepover.
He promises
it’ll be funny,
not scary.
Don’t worry.
Special effects were totally weak
back in the olden days.
Sharon yells from the kitchen,
Hey! 1958 is not
the olden days!
But she must agree
about the not-so-scary part,
otherwise I don’t think she’d let us watch it.
Liam grabs the DVD case.
He reads the description,
his voice dropping
low and deep
Indescribable…
Indestructible…
Nothing can stop it!
THE BLOB!
When the movie starts,
I watch in horror
as the Blob consumes
everything,
everyone
in its path.
Growing bigger and bigger
and BIGGER.
Eventually the air force uses a cargo plane
to transport the Blob to the Arctic,
parachuting it onto ice.
Is it finally gone? For good? I ask the television.
A character named Dave says,
The Blob is not dead!
But at least it has been stopped!
As long as the Arctic stays cold…
Liam’s sister, Lindsay, flips on the lights.
I jump.
I look over at Liam.
Uh-oh. He’s wide-eyed.
What? What! I shout.
I’ve got two words for you: Global. Warming.
I gasp.
Liam laughs.
Lindsay laughs, too.
It’s only a movie, Collin.
Don’t freak out.
It isn’t real.
GENIUS
That night
I dream about
the Blob.
It starts in the basement,
devours the staircase,
filling rooms,
blocking doors,
until there’s nowhere
for me to go.
I climb
to the roof.
Cling
to the chimney.
Cry
for help.
Dude! Doooooood!
Someone shakes me
awake.
My chest heaves
up and
down.
My pajamas are clammy
with sweat.
Dude! Liam repeats.
You’re a flipping genius!
Huh?
I sit up and look around the dark room.
You were talking in your sleep.
What did I say?
Just the most brilliant thing ever.
Really? I try to catch my breath.
You kept muttering,
To the roof! To the roof!
Oh! Wait. Why is that genius?
Duh! Jell-O.
I scratch my head and fall
back asleep.
∞ ∞ ∞
In the morning,
we tie safety tethers
made from bedsheets
to our waists,
lean out
Liam’s bedroom window
(because there is no way we’re actually climbing up to the roof)
and drop Jell-O
onto the ground below,
pretending the wobbly snack
is the Blob,
just like in the movie.
We make tiny parachutes
out of paper napkins.
Let ’em fly!
Splat!
Adios, you nasty jiggly monster!
This is fun, I say, releasing a quivery green cup.
Hey, it was your idea!
Right. Because I’m a flipping genius! I laugh.
Maybe Dad and I
have something in common after all.
IMPOSSIBLE
When Dad picks me up,
I ask if we can play
a game of mini-golf
at the new course in town.
Just a warning—the kids at school
said the obstacles are totally impossible, I tell him.
Dad’s face lights up,
like I hoped it would.
Impossible, huh?
He musses my shaggy brown hair.
We’ll see about that…
HOLE IN ONE
Before we get started,
I assess all potential mini-golf hazards.
We apply sunblock (UV exposure),
purchase extra-large fountain sodas (hydration),
double-knot our shoelaces (trip prevention).
The course has whirling windmills,
sharp-toothed sharks,
even a sinking pirate ship.
But these are just-for-fun props,
most likely harmless.
Dad likes to analyze
the precise angle and velocity and who-knows-what
of each putt.
I don’t have the patience for all that,
yet somehow on the fourth hole
I sink a hole in one!
Dad erupts,
whooping and cheering so loudly
we almost get kicked out.
By the end of the day
my cheeks are sore
from smiling.
Missing Mom takes up
so much heartspace,
I almost forgot
how much I missed
this version of Dad,
this version of us.
* * *
When rock climbing, inspect all harnesses, ropes, helmets, carabiners, etc., before beginning.
Choose your climbing route wisely and manage risks as you go.
If you are climbing with a partner, decide who will lead and who will belay.