Also Known as Elvis (16 page)

When I tell him, Donny gets a little miffed (one of Grandma Roseanne's words), but who can blame him? I'm leaving him shorthanded. Then he says, “You can have your job back anytime, kiddo. You're a hard worker and a quick learner. I should probably kick your butt for sticking me with Henry, but I want you to come back. So instead you can look for a little something extra in your last paycheck.”

Three hours later I've got that paycheck in my hand. He's added on forty bucks. I can hardly believe it. I go into the kitchen to thank him, and when I come back out there are three people standing just inside the front door.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in!” I go.

“
Tous les amis sont réunis!
” Joe cries.

Translation in my head: “I'm here, I'm queer, get used to it!”

Actual translation: “All the friends are reunited!”

It's a few minutes to four. Addie, Joe, and Bobby are back.

“We all got you presents!” Bobby announces.

“Mine is the absolute best,” says Addie, “if I do say so myself.”

“Nuh-uh. Mine!” says Joe. He is wearing a T-shirt that reads
HAPPILY MARRIED TO A CANADIAN
in rainbow colors. I sincerely hope he did not get me one that matches.

“Mine is not very exciting,” Bobby says apologetically, “but shopping options are limited in the woods.”

“That only makes it more of a challenge,” goes Joe. “Come on, Skeezie, open your presents. Oh, and I'll have a double hot fudge sundae with pistachio and mint chocolate chip. I'm in a green mood.”

I go to make the sundae when Steffi says, “Sorry, fella, you're no longer employed here.”

A glance at the clock tells me it's four. I untie my apron and hand it to Steffi. “I guess I have to pay like everybody else now, huh?” I say.

“I think the last Dr Pepper float is on the house,” she says.

“And sweet potato fries?”

“Now you're pushing your luck. Go on, Big E, sit down. One Dr Pepper float and a jumbo order of sweet potato fries coming up!”

“Don't forget the double-green sundae!” Joe calls out.

After taking Bobby and Addie's orders, Steffi whispers in my ear, “Good luck telling them.”

No kidding. They're sitting in the booth—
our
booth—with presents for me. Why'd they have to get me stinkin' presents? It's hard enough.

“What's up with the presents?” I ask, sliding in next to Addie.

“You're welcome,” says Joe.

“We didn't plan it,” Addie says. “We just all had the same idea.”

“Yeah,” says Joe. “It was just coincidental, so, so . . .
comment allez-vous
.”

“What?” Bobby asks.

“Okay, that means ‘how are you,' but the point
is we all thought of it independently
—
and no, I have no idea how to say that in French.”

“What Joe is trying to say in his limited
English
vocabulary,” Addie says, “is that we all thought about you being stuck here, not having a vacation at
all
this summer, which is so
unjust
, and we all brought you a little something to cheer you up. Open mine first. No, wait, save the best for last. Joe, you go.”

“Fine, fine,
quel chien
!”

Addie lets out an exasperated sigh. “That means ‘what a dog.' ”

“What. Ever. Here, Skeezie. Or Big Eyeballs, or whatever your name is.”

Joe thrusts this big box at me that's all wrapped in paper with maple leaves on it. “Everything is authentic Canadian, eh?” he says.

“What?”

“Eh?”

“What?”

“That's what everybody says in Canada when they're not speaking French.”

“Eh?”

“
Oui
. Eh.”

“Know what I say to that?”

“Eh?”

“Meh.”

Joe and I high-five, Bobby giggles, and Addie rolls her eyes. It's good to have my friends back home.

“There'd better be a moose inside,” I tell Joe as I rip open the paper.

“Better than that,” says Joe.

He's right. There are two moose—meese?—inside.

“These are way cool,” I tell him, pulling out two ginormous moose slippers from the box. “But what size did you get? Twenty?”

“Twelve,” he goes. “Come on, Skeezie, you have the biggest feet on the planet, outside the circus. If they're too big now, they'll fit you in a few years.”

“Or you can use them to serve pancakes,” Bobby says.

We all stare at him.

“I think you've been out in the woods too long,” I say.

He brings up this small shopping bag from the seat next to him and slides it across the table. “Sorry it's not wrapped or anything,” he says. “I think the store didn't even have wrapping paper.”

“It's okay,” I go. “Who cares about wrapping paper?”

From inside the bag I pull out pancake mix and a big bottle of maple syrup.

“I remembered how you told me that you and Megan and Jessie like pancakes and real maple syrup,” he says. “I hope it's not a dopey present.”

It's so
not
dopey that I'm having trouble saying anything. All I can think is how I'm not going to be there in the morning to make breakfast for my sisters. I'm going to be in some strange kitchen in a strange city. Who knows what they even eat in Rochester?

Finally, I manage to say, “Thanks, Bobby. This is the best present ever.”

“Well, second best,” goes Addie.

“Third best,” says Joe.

Addie hands me a small wrapped rectangular box. I notice that the paper is covered with music notes and that Addie's hands are covered with graffiti.

“One,” I say, “is it a harmonica? Two, why are your hands covered with graffiti?”

“One,” she answers, “open it and find out. Two, this is not graffiti, O Ye of Little Culture. It's called
mehandi.
Or henna. It's like a temporary tattoo that's done in India. Only my grandma found this place near her that does it, so we didn't have to travel that far. Remember, I told you?”

“Oh, right,” I say, recalling the
many
texts Addie sent me about what she and her grandma were up to. “Cool.”

“Open it!” she says excitedly. “I have to be honest and tell you that Grandma picked it out.”

Judging from Addie's face, there's something inside that I'm going to like—and there is. “An Elvis watch!” I go. “This is freakin' amazing!”

And like magic, “Blue Suede Shoes” comes up on the playlist. I can't resist. I strap on the watch, jump up, and start singing and air-guitaring, nearly crashing into Steffi, who's bringing our order. I take the tray, set it down on the table, and grab her hands. “Go, cat, go,” I'm singing as Steffi and I start moving around the room.

It's the second time ever that I've danced with a girl.

• • •

For the next hour and a half, we're sitting there, me and the gang, catching up on their vacations. They keep asking me stuff about what's been going on here, but there's a lot I don't want to tell them.

I do tell them about looking at guitars with my dad. And I tell them about Becca. Right away Addie says, “See? Didn't I warn you? I
told
you to be careful. Becca is
so
fickle. One day she's your friend, the next day she acts, like, hello who are you. I mean, she's a lot better than she used to be, but she still wants to be popular, and that's a problem.
And
she is the biggest flirt! I'm sorry, Skeezie,
she does like you, but who knows if that means as a friend or a boyfriend? Becca probably flirts with the mailman.”

“And the toaster!” cries Joe.

“And her shoes!” says Bobby.

And we're off and running with a long list of things and people Becca flirts with. The whole time, part of me is laughing and happy and another part of me is worried sick.

Finally, when I look down at my new Elvis watch and see that it's five thirty, I say, “Guys, there's something I've got to tell you.”

Me.

And the Winner of the Worst Moment in My Entire Life Award goes to . . .

Now.

Nobody speaks. Joe is crying. Addie and Bobby look like they might cry, too.

“Do I have to give my presents back?” I say stupidly.

“That's not funny,” says Addie, not understanding that I was being sincere, even if it was a stupid question.

“It's not like forever,” I go. “I'll be back.”

“When?” Bobby asks.

“To visit,” I mumble.

Nobody says, “What? What did you say?” because nobody wants to hear.

“Why did you wait until the last few minutes to tell us?” Joe asks.

Now I'm going to start crying. I just shake my head and mumble, “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

The Rolling Stones are singing, “Time is on my side, yes it is,” and I think,
What a joke
, when the only other sound I can hear is my Elvis watch ticking away the seconds.

“I've got to go,” I finally say when the lump in my throat has gone away. “I like my presents a lot and I'm sorry I waited to tell you and I'll be back, I promise. I just need to be with my dad, I'm sorry. Hey, Joe, how do you say that in French?”

“
Au revoir
,” says Joe, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

I'm no dummy. I know that doesn't mean “I'm sorry.” It means “goodbye.”

Even though we're all kind of in a state of shock, we manage to get up from the booth and give each other hugs. I think how this is the last
time I'll sit in this booth with my friends. How the Gang of Five is no more.

Steffi gives me a hug, too, and even Donny comes out from the kitchen to hug me—one of those guy hugs, with slaps on the back.

As I'm going out the door, the Stones are singing, “You'll come running back, you'll come running back to me.”

And that's when I totally lose it.

I'm not the only one crying when I get home. Jessie is bawling her eyes out. She runs to meet me halfway up the sidewalk, throws her arms around my legs, and bellows, “Don't leave me!” so loud I figure at least one of the neighbors is sure to call the cops.

My mom comes out of the house, her face red and puffy. “I told the girls about an hour ago,” she says. “I said you were going to be with your dad for a while.”

I don't correct her. “For a while” is what Jessie needs to hear. And, to be honest, it's what I need to hear right about now, too.

“Where's Megan?” I ask.

“In her room,” my mom says. “She's mad.”

“That figures.”

“Maybe you should go talk to her. Your dad called to say he's running late. He'll be here in about ten minutes.”

Jessie clings to my legs as I go into the house, smearing my jeans with her tears and snot. “Wait'll you see the neat slippers Joe got me,” I tell her. “Hey, look at my new watch.”

“I don't care,” Jessie says, sniffling. “I don't care about your watch.”

When I get to the door of their bedroom, I lean down and tell Jessie, “I need to talk to Megan.”

“Me, too,” she says.

“No, I need to talk to Megan alone.”

Jessie shakes her head angrily. “Me, too!” she says again.

I pull a couple of Candy Kitchen napkins out of my pocket and wipe her eyes and nose. “Okay,” I tell her. I know a losing battle when I see one.

I knock on the door.

“Go away!” Megan shouts.

“Come on, Meggie,” I say.

“Don't call me that,
Schuyler
!”

“Okay, fine, just let me in, okay?”

“Go
away
!” Megan repeats.

But there's no lock on the door, so I just push it
open. With Jessie attached to my leg, I enter their pink-and-purple room and sit down on the end of Megan's bed. She's huddled at the head, next to her pillows, hugging the Big Bird I won for her at the county fair when I was her age and she was five. It cost me almost all the money I'd saved up from my allowance to pop enough balloons in the water-gun race. But she wanted that Big Bird more than anything, and I wanted to be the one to win it for her.

“Look,” I say, not sure what's coming next. “I need some time to be with Dad. A guy needs his dad, you know?”

“I guess I wouldn't know that, Skeezie,” she says, practically hissing the words. “I'm a
girl.
I guess girls don't
need
their dads. Or dads don't need their girls, anyway.”

“Okay, that was stupid. And he
does
need you. He just figures you belong here with Mom. You'll see, when you get older, when you're almost a teenager, you're going to see how important it is to have your mom to, you know, like, help you with
girl stuff. Woman stuff. I need that kind of thing with Dad. I'm not saying I'm never coming back. I just have to do this right now.”

I don't even know if I mean what I'm saying. It's just words coming out of my mouth.

“Fine,” Megan says. “I know you don't like us anyway.”

“What? That's crazy!”

“Well, you like Jessie. But you don't like me. You're always yelling at me.”

Jessie clings to me even harder when she hears her name.

“You're always yelling at
me,
” I tell Megan. “I like you just fine. It's just that we fight all the time.”

Now Megan's eyes start welling up. “We don't have to,” she says. “If you stay here, we don't have to fight.”

“Oh, come on, Meggie,” I say. “It's going to be okay. You've got Jessie and Mom. You don't need a stinky old brother like me around all the time.”