Hit the Road, Manny: A Manny Files Novel (7 page)

After the police officer incident, Dad drove for a few more hours, while Mom stood in the little RV kitchen and made us turkey and cheddar sandwiches with tomatoes, lettuce, and mustard. She called it a “late lunch,” but it was more like dinner because it was four o’clock. The sandwiches were really good. Lulu said that it was the best one she’d ever tasted. Then she added that if Mom ever did go to jail for speeding, they’d probably make her wear a hairnet and work in the kitchen. Mom grabbed Lulu’s unopened snack bag of Fritos and crunched it in her hands as revenge for the jail comment. Lulu had to eat the chips directly from the bag like a drink. She said it’s the price you have to pay for having a quick wit. The manny agreed by nodding. He was paying the price for his quick wit by serving his punishment of silence from too many conduct marks.

We stopped early that evening at an RV campsite that had big marked-off parking places, a fenced-in swimming pool, and a communal bathroom in the middle. There were RVs everywhere. Some were big and fancy and had striped awnings like porches. Some had clotheslines between them with drying sheets and swimsuits. One even had fake green grass around it like it was a yard, the kind of bright green plastic grass that is at miniature golf courses.

We parked next to the green-and-blue-striped RV that had the fake yard around it. An older man in shorts and tall socks waved to us. He was hosing off his fake yard with a jet spray. His wife was grilling burgers on a small grill. She looked kind of like Grandma, except I never saw Grandma wear culottes or a tennis visor. Sitting in a folding chair next to her was a girl a little older than Belly wearing lavender corduroy overalls with a yellow T-shirt underneath. She was swinging her legs back and forth and had a serious look on her face like she was trying to figure out if her grandpa knew that the grass that he was watering was fake.

The manny looked out the window and said, “They really should get a yard boy.”

“Why is he watering it?” I asked.

“DUH, SO IT WILL GROW,” Belly answered. Belly says “duh” sometimes. She learned it from Lulu.

Dad laughed and brought the RV to a stop. Belly saw the little girl in her lavender overalls and decided she should probably change out of her pajamas. Mom says Belly is “fashion competitive” and doesn’t like it if somebody is dressed prettier than she is. Belly put on her Snow White dress that she bought at the Disney Store at the mall. She also put on her cowboy boots and her fake diamond tiara. Mom never should have let Belly pack her own bag.

The man washing his lawn introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Grant. This is my wife, Dana,” he said, pointing to the woman in the culottes and tennis visor. “And this young beauty is our granddaughter, Harmony. She just spilled her entire Gatorade on the AstroTurf.” When Grant said this, he sprayed the green AstroTurf one last time, and I could see orange Gatorade running off the side and into the dirt.

The little girl in the lavender overalls waved to us with a Barbie that was in her hand. It wasn’t really Barbie. It was Skipper, Barbie’s little sister. You can tell them apart because Skipper has bangs and tan lines and Barbie doesn’t. I only know because India used to play with Barbies and she told me. And sometimes I used to play with her. I was in charge of running the household, cleaning and running the kids to school. India called me Barbie’s butler.

Grant shook all of our hands and said, “Welcome to the neighborhood.” And then he laughed like he’d said something really funny. Dana called him “a kidder” and offered us chocolate chip cookies out of a square Tupperware container. They looked really good and smelled like butter, but they tasted like refrigerator burn, like they had been in the freezer too long and had to be chipped out of the ice. I didn’t say anything. I just ate it politely like Mom taught me. I’ve always been polite, but Mom says that sometimes my politeness needs direction. When I was six, I went to my friend Elliot’s birthday party. His mother made carrot cake. When she offered me a piece, I said, “Oh, no, thank you. It looks wonderful, but it sounds awful.” I wasn’t invited to Elliot’s seventh birthday party. I didn’t care. Sarah told me that Elliot’s mother made a pecan pie that year. Poor Elliot. I bet his mother gives out toothbrushes or ginger chews at Halloween.

Belly walked up to the little girl in the lavender overalls and smiled and waited to be greeted. That’s how Belly introduces herself. She walks up and waits to be talked to, admired, or bowed to.

The little girl held her hand out to shake and said, “My name is Harmony Patricia Draper, and this is Popcorn.” Harmony pointed to a brand-new red tricycle. “My mommy gave Popcorn to me.”

I’ve never heard of anybody naming a tricycle, but I guess Popcorn’s a pretty good name if you’re going to do it. I would have named it Linus. It looked more like a Linus than a Popcorn.

Belly said, “I LIKE YOUR HAIR,” and pointed to Harmony’s hair, which had about ten plastic hair clips in it. They weren’t holding her hair back. They were just clipped in randomly. A pink one was right above her forehead. An orange one was by her ear. And a blue one was at the very bottom of one of her three ponytails.

India said that Harmony’s hair was a
Glamour
Do because she was five. She said if Lulu had the same hairdo, it would be a
Glamour
Don’t. I laughed at the thought of Lulu with three ponytails and lots of hair clips.

“What if the manny had that hairdo?” I asked.

“It would be a
Glamour
DOOFUS!” India said, and then she laughed a big “HA, HA, HA.”

Belly and Harmony started playing with Harmony’s box of Barbies on the fake lawn. Belly kept scratching her legs, saying that the lawn was itchy and asking if there were ticks in it. Belly had a tick on her leg last summer that Mom had to remove with the tweezers. She screamed like Mom was removing her leg.

While Belly and Harmony played, Mom and Dad decided to rest in the RV. The manny, Lulu, India, and I walked around the RV park. As we left the RV, Dad hung out the door and said loud enough for Grant and Dana to hear, “Hey, kids, remember to knock when you get back because your mother and I will probably be making out.”

“Dad!” Lulu shrieked, staring at him without blinking, the same way she did to Belly when she stole pictures of Johnny Depp off her Hot Guy Wall. Belly taped them in her dollhouse like Johnny Depp lived there with her dolls Genevieve and Rosie.

While we walked around the RV park, we pretended that we knew people. The manny waved at a man wearing a John Deere T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. His arms were covered in black hair all the way up to his shoulders.

The manny said, “Oh, there’s Winslow, bless his heart! I haven’t seen him since we used to work at the Rogaine factory together. It looks like his new hair is coming in
extremely
well.”

After we passed a pretty blond woman in a red bikini who wasn’t much older than Lulu, India said, “Heavens to Betsy, that was Gladys. She looks wonderful for a ninety-six-year-old. God bless BOTOX!”

I spent the whole time we were walking trying to think of something really funny to say, but I couldn’t. I kept saying, “Oh, look, there’s…” but then I’d stop.

Lulu didn’t join in. She hates pretending. She calls herself a “realist.” India told me that a realist is somebody who doesn’t like to daydream or watch cartoons. They only like things that are real. I guess that’s why Lulu reads biographies and watches
The Real World
on MTV.

Mom and Dad don’t know that Lulu watches
The Real World
. She usually watches it when they have gone to the store or out to eat and they’ve left her in charge. Mom thinks
The Real World
isn’t an appropriate show for kids, even though Lulu is about to go into high school. I saw a little bit of it once when Lulu was watching, and there was a girl sitting in a hot tub talking about how she thought the other roommates didn’t respect her. After she said it, she drank right out of a margarita pitcher, took her shirt off, and jumped into the swimming pool. I’ve never seen anybody in real life do that.

The RV park was like a little town. There were people playing volleyball. There were people eating dinner at folding tables. I even saw a guy reading the
New York Times
in his boxer shorts and undershirt in a lawn chair. The manny pointed out that the man was reading the Style section and said, “At least it’s a start.”

When we were almost back to our own RV, we saw a little red tricycle barreling toward us. It was Belly on Popcorn, going faster than a tricycle should probably go. Rocks were flying out from underneath the wheels, and Harmony was running after it, screaming through tears, “Give it back! Give back Popcorn! She doesn’t like that!”

Harmony had her forehead scrunched up and looked as though, if she caught up, she might beat Belly with the tricycle. Belly just kept pedaling and smiling, pretending like she had no idea Harmony was running after her. Harmony’s Skipper doll was stuck in the spokes of the front wheel and was going round and round.
Thwat. Thwat. Thwat.

When Belly saw the manny, she slammed on the tricycle brakes, and Harmony caught up to her. Harmony grabbed the Skipper doll out of the spokes and said, “I think you killed her.”

Belly shrugged.

Harmony screamed and moaned as tears streaked down her bright red face. She was shaking back and forth and shivering like our dog, Housman, does when we give him baths in the sink. Harmony kept sniffling, and you could hear the snot being sucked back into her nostrils. Most of it, anyway. She wiped some of it on her arm and across her red cheek. When she did it, Lulu looked away and pretended to be distracted by the volleyball game. Lulu hates snot.

The manny picked Belly up off of Popcorn and got a serious look on his face. The manny doesn’t get a serious look on his face very often, usually only when he’s trying on clothes or watching talk shows. He spoke quietly into Belly’s ear. I couldn’t hear what he said, but I hoped he was telling her that she was going to be sent to one of those boot camps in the desert where out-of-control kids go. I saw it on
60 Minutes
once. A thirteen-year-old girl had to go to the boot camp because she was smoking cigarettes, dressing in half shirts, and cussing at her mother. After three weeks of being yelled at by a soldier guy with flared nostrils, the same girl was wearing cardigan sweaters, going to church, and calling her mother her “best friend.” I think Belly should go there every summer, like camp.

Belly crossed her arms and looked down at Harmony, who had climbed onto her tricycle and was trying to straighten Skipper’s new frizzy hair. Lulu was rubbing Harmony’s back but still not looking at her face. India was trying to brush Harmony’s hair with her hands, but her hand kept getting caught by a hair clip. Harmony was still gasping in between sobs like she was recovering from hyperventilation.

The manny let out a breath through his lips and it made a motor sound. He asked Belly if she had something to say to Harmony.

“YEAH,” said Belly. “POPCORN’S FAST! HER WAS SCARED!”

Harmony didn’t even look up. She just kept pedaling, with her shoulders stooped.

“No, Belly. I mean, don’t you want to apologize to Harmony for taking her tricycle without asking?”

“NOOOOOO,” said Belly, adding a few extra
o
’s for emphasis. I taught her that.

“Then, we’ll go back and you can sit in the time-out seat in the RV until you can apologize to Harmony,” the manny said.

I didn’t know we even had a time-out seat in the RV.

“Maybe we should throw her in the bushes. I bet there’s a whole bunch of ticks in there,” I suggested.

“NO!” Belly screamed, and clutched around the manny’s neck with both of her arms. She was too scared to add the extra
o
’s.

“Yeah, throw her in the bushes,” Harmony agreed. I smiled at Harmony but had to look away because the snot on her face was starting to crust over.

The manny said, “Hey,” and looked down at me to let me know that I wasn’t helping the situation.

“Or the time-out seat sounds good,” I said.

We walked back, and Harmony rode alongside on Popcorn, which was squeaking like it needed oil. I’m not sure if it did that before or if Belly had damaged it with her reckless driving.

India and Lulu kept asking Harmony questions about her life, trying to let her know that we weren’t a whole family of delinquents. Delinquents are people who wear their hair slicked back and fight with knives. Lulu told me what a delinquent was after she read
The Outsiders
in English class last year. She also told me that the main character in
The Outsiders
is named Ponyboy. Lulu cried when she read the end of the book and said that someday she wanted to marry somebody like Ponyboy because he was “golden.” I don’t know what “golden” means, but that’s how it described him in the book. I wish I had a name like Ponyboy or Sodapop. Sodapop is another boy in the book. India suggested GingerSnap as a nickname for me, but I don’t think it’s tough enough.