Better Than Weird (6 page)

The words didn't help. Tufan pulled his fist back, and he threw two hard punches at Aaron's shoulder. Then, in one quick move, he grabbed an arm and twisted it behind Aaron's back. It all happened so fast, Aaron didn't cry out until Tufan pulled the arm up. Then a squeal of pain escaped his lips. Tufan pulled the arm higher. “You really do have a death wish, Cantwait,” he said in a low voice. “I can't wait to make it come true.”

When he pulled the arm up a third time, Aaron shrieked and started to cry.

“Suck,” Tufan taunted. “What a baby. You like playing in puddles? Stay in this one. Stay here till hell freezes over, or I'll come back for you.” He leaned close. “And remember this. I don't get mad. I get even.” Then he walked away.

Aaron stayed where he was, tears streaming down his face, his legs soaking wet and freezing.
My fault
, he thought.
My fault. I should have done like Jeremy said.
I should have stayed away from Tufan.

Ms. Masilo was on yard duty that morning. Aaron saw her come out of the school dressed in her high, shiny black boots, her long black coat and her furtrimmed hat. He stopped crying and dragged his sleeve across his face. He watched Ms. Masilo make her way down the school steps, one stair at a time, avoiding the ice and the scattered sand. He saw her walk to the edge of the pavement, where she stopped and surveyed the yard.

“Aaron?” she called when she saw him. “What are you doing out there? Get up. Get up at once!”

Aaron squinted. Her lips were wide. Even from a distance, he could see her teeth. She was smiling. Was she happy? He couldn't tell. He wanted to get up. He hiccupped. His teeth were clacking. He didn't want Ms. Masilo to be mad, but with Tufan's warning fresh in his mind, he stayed where he was. Ms. Masilo clanged the bell. “Get up right now and come here,” she shouted.

Several smaller kids gathered, attracted by the bell and the teacher's shouts.

When Aaron didn't move, they started to snicker. Ms. Masilo peered at the expanse of field she'd have to cross to get to him. She glanced at her black leather boots, sighed, and gingerly made her way across, followed by a cluster of curious little kids.

“Get up! Get up right now!” Ms. Masilo said as soon as she reached Aaron. He started to rise, but, remembering Tufan, he sank back.

Ms. Masilo reached down to help him up. The arm she pulled was the same one Tufan had twisted. It still hurt. When she pulled, Aaron yelped and she let go. She looked around, then sent two of the girls into the school for help.

It was Mr. Collins who came running, his coat flapping. “Are you hurt?” he asked when he saw Aaron in the puddle.

Aaron shook his head.

“Then get up and come inside.”

Aaron looked at the expression on the teacher's face.
Worried,
he decided.
Mr. Collins looks worried.
It made him sad.

Just then the school buzzer sounded. Ms. Masilo rang the handbell. She glanced at Aaron and started toward the doors. Kids ran to join the lines that disappeared inside. As the last one hurried into the school, Aaron figured it was safe to stand up. He followed Mr. Collins into the building, his pant legs flapping wetly, his boots making sucking sounds with each step.

He was in the nurse's office, wrapped in a blanket, when Jeremy's voice came through the speaker, making the morning announcements. Aaron's shoulders sagged. That's where he was supposed to be. With Jeremy.

When Gran arrived and looked at him, her shoulders sagged too. She shook her head as she handed him dry clothes. “I don't know, Aaron,” she said. And then, as if she didn't know what else to say, she repeated her words more slowly. “I…don't…know.”

Mr. Collins asked a lot of questions. Aaron didn't answer any of them. He didn't want to admit he'd been playing in the puddles, and he didn't want to tell about the tears in case Mr. Collins thought he was a baby, or worse, a suck.

NINE

That evening Jeremy came over, and the boys went into the basement to work on their space city. They had a collection of small boxes already painted and decorated. As Jeremy got ready to start painting, Aaron stood with his hands in the pockets of his down vest. His mind wasn't on the project.

“Only eight more days,” he told Jeremy. “Eight days before my dad comes back.”

Jeremy picked up one of the miniature rockets. “What color do you want to paint this one?” he asked.

“Silver, I guess,” Aaron said. “My dad…he's gonna bring me a surprise.”

“Yeah, you said. Pass me the paintbrush.”

Aaron frowned. He handed Jeremy the brush. “How come…how come you don't care that my dad's coming back?”

Jeremy sucked in his bottom lip. He dipped the brush into a small jar and started painting one of the rockets.

“You know what else I put on the list?” Aaron said. “I put
tae kwan do
. We can do that together, my dad and me. Then nobody's gonna push me around. We're gonna do all kinds of stuff together.”

A small strangled sound came from Jeremy's throat. He tossed his brush aside. “I gotta go,” he said.

Aaron was surprised to see him rush up the stairs. He followed, but by the time he got there, Jeremy was already opening the front door. “You're going?” he asked.

“Yeah. Forgot something. See ya.” And Aaron found himself standing in the entrance, alone.

“He left in a hurry,” Gran said from the upper hallway.

“He forgot something.”

She came down, one stair at a time. When she got to the bottom, she sat on a step and patted the space beside her. “Maybe you forgot something too,” she said when Aaron was seated.

“Me? What? What did I forget?”

“Is it possible that in all the excitement of your dad coming home, you forgot Jeremy's father will never be back?”

“What?”

“Think for a minute,” Gran said.

Aaron sat. After a bit, his eyes widened. “Oh,” he said. “Stupid me. Stupid, stupid me. Should I say sorry?” he asked, his voice sounding small and lost as he tried to figure out how to make things right.

“Can't hurt,” Gran said. She sighed, hoisted herself to her feet and plodded into the kitchen.

Aaron stayed slumped on the step. Then he squirmed, slid his hand inside his vest pocket and pulled out the toad nestled there. It squatted in his cupped palm, soft as a handful of pudding. Gran didn't know he had rescued it or that he kept it in a box of dirt under his bed, so of course she didn't know he sometimes carried it around. He didn't want it to be lonely.

He lifted his hand until he was eye to eye with the toad and said, “When my dad comes, he's gonna tell me the right things to say. Then I won't hurt Jeremy's feelings, and we'll stay friends.”

He was still sitting on the steps when the phone rang. Gran answered. Aaron held his breath, wondering if it was his dad.

Through all the years he was gone, his dad had called every couple of weeks. He always talked to Gran first. Sometimes she sounded mad. One day she shouted, “Don't ask me again! It's time you stood on your own two feet. I can't support both of you.” Aaron wondered why his father needed help to stand up, but when he asked, Gran snapped, “Everybody has to grow up sometime!” and he was afraid to ask again.

Most of the time she didn't get mad, and she almost always handed him the phone when she was done. Then Aaron would press the receiver to his ear and listen to his father say, “Aaron? Are you there, Aaron?”

“Say, ‘Hi, Dad,'” Gran would urge, but sometimes he just listened until the voice stopped and the phone clicked, leaving him with the lonely sound of the dial tone.

He always looked forward to hearing from his father, even though they didn't have much to say to each other. And he knew the voice. He was sure about that. For sure he'd recognize it when his father finally came.

Aaron stood up. In the kitchen Gran was still talking, but not to his dad. He could tell.

“Sometimes I feel like a broken record,” he heard her say. Then she laughed. “I told Aaron that once and he said, ‘What's a record?' and I realized just how old I am.”

“Of course I'd like to go,” she went on. “I haven't been to the theatre since…oh my goodness, I haven't seen a show since I retired. How long ago is that? Must be nine years now.

“Back then I worried I'd have time on my hands. I thought I'd miss going to the office, and I wondered if I should take up a hobby. Then Liam called because they needed help with the baby. What could I say? Sarah was dying. So I came, and I've been here ever since.”

Sarah. Sarah was my mother,
Aaron thought. He hardly remembered his mother. Mostly when he thought
mother
he thought of Gran.

“Oh, I don't know, Milly. When would we be back? Six?” She sighed. “I'd better say no. No telling what Aaron will get into if he's left alone.”

Aaron squirmed. He didn't like it when Gran talked to other people about him. Not even Milly. Milly was related to Jeremy. That's why Jeremy and his mother lived in Milly's house. Aaron liked her, but still…

“You remember the day I had the doctor's appointment for all those tests?” Gran went on. “I was late coming home, and wouldn't you know it, that was the day Aaron brought home the mealworms from the class science study.”

Twenty-three mealworms, five pupae and six beetle
s.
Aaron wanted to correct her, but he didn't because then Gran would know he was listening.

“I have to admit it was my fault too,” she said. “He asked for permission. Said he wanted to use them to feed the toad he was keeping in the shed. He loves animals. If it was up to him, the house would be filled with them. He's forever carting home something he found. It's not that I don't want him to have a pet. It's just that…” She sighed. “Well, you know…taking care of Aaron is as much as I can handle.

“Anyway, like a fool I sent a note telling the teacher Aaron could have the mealworms. They're small and quiet, I thought. What could go wrong? Who knew I'd be out when he brought them home! Still, you'd think he would have put them someplace sensible. But oh no. Didn't he dump the whole lot of them into my box of bran flakes!”

Mealworms like bran
, Aaron wanted to say, but Gran's voice rose as she said, “You can stop laughing. I didn't think it was the least bit funny. Okay. Maybe it's funny now, but it wasn't then. Do you know what it's like to pour out your breakfast cereal and find mealworms wriggling in your bowl? It took me three days to get my appetite back.”

She laughed. Aaron liked the sound. Gran laughing.

She hadn't laughed when she found the mealworms. “That's it!” she had yelled. “You can't keep them! Not the mealworms and not the toad. They're all going!” And she had carried the box of cereal out and poured it on the compost pile in the garden. She made him put the toad into the flower bed behind the house.

There was silence in the kitchen now. When she spoke again, the laughter was gone from her voice. She sounded different as she said, “For all the trouble, I wouldn't trade the last eight years for anything. If nothing else, he gives me a reason to get up in the morning. Still, who knows what will happen when…” Her voice dropped, and he couldn't hear what she said at the end.

“It's all right, Buddy,” he told the toad. “When Dad comes, you won't have to hide anymore.”

The toad blinked. Then it peed. A brownish liquid puddled in Aaron's hand before it seeped between his fingers and dripped to his shoe. He grunted, shifted the animal to his other hand and wiped his wet palm on his pants before he slid the toad back into his pocket.

“What've you got there?”

He looked up, startled. He hadn't heard Gran hang up the phone, and now she was in the hallway.

“Aaron? What's in your pocket?” she asked again.

He shifted from one foot to the other. “Have to go to the bathroom,” he said, starting up the stairs.

“Aaron Waite!” Gran called out in her doomsday voice. “Don't take another step.”

He stopped and turned to stare at his grandmother.

“Don't give me that wide-eyed innocent look. I want to know what you've got.”

Aaron pulled Buddy out again.

TEN

Right after lunch the next day, Aaron's Big Brother, Paul, arrived with an empty fish tank and a bag of supplies. He draped his jacket on the newel post and blew on his hands to warm them. “It's a good thing you called before you put that toad outside. It's freezing out there. It would have died. The best thing to do is to set up a vivarium and keep it till spring.”

Aaron watched Gran's face. She was thinking. He could tell.

Paul looked at her face too. “Toads are quiet and they don't take much care,” he said.

Gran threw up her hands. “All right,” she said, “keep your toad. Just make sure I'm not going to regret this decision.”