Parts & Labor (18 page)

"I
am Nils Nordstrom," his father said.

"I'm
Kate Dugan."

They
shook hands like grownups do.

"Please,
come in, Nils."

Mom introduced us to Mr. Nordstrom, then we went into the kitchen. Mr. Nordstrom recoiled
slightly at the walls.

"Oh,
my. That is bright yellow."

"The
owners before us did that," Mom said.

We
sat at the table, and Mom and Scarlett served everyone. Spaghetti and bison
meatballs. Mr. Nordstrom didn't know how to eat spaghetti either, but Norbert
showed him how to suck up long strands the way I did, so he picked it up pretty
fast.

"Excellent
food," he said.

"Mr.
Nordstrom," I said, "do you like to play Scrabble?"

"My
father has never before played," Norbert said, "but I have explained
the game to him."

Norbert
had become a Scrabble genius. We all took our seven letters.

"Mr.
Nordstrom," Scarlett said, "you go first."

He
smiled big and placed six letters on the board: D-P-F-W-T-C.

"How
many points, Norbert?" he asked.

"Uh,
Father, this game is played in the
English
language."

Mr.
Nordstrom glanced from Norbert to his letters and then to us. He seemed
embarrassed.

"Ah.
Yes. English. Of course. I was thinking in Russian again. Many consonants,
that language."

He
put down W-E-T.

"Twelve
points, with the double word," Norbert said.

"So,
Nils," Mom said, "Norbert said you work for the federal government.
National security."

"Yes.
That is correct."

"Were
you a spy in Russia?"

Mom was real suspicious of anyone who worked for the federal government, except the post office
workers, who just made her nervous.

"Oh,
no, Kate. I am just a researcher."

"And
now you're working here on a top-secret assignment?"

"Yes."

"Anything
we should know?"

Mr.
Nordstrom's eyes dropped.

"Nothing
to worry about," he said.

Scarlett
put down her word: S-L-A-V-E-S.

At
three the next morning, Kate Dugan lay sleeping in the big bed she had shared
with John Dugan. She still slept on her side. She reached out for him in her
sleep.

"John
…"

In
the bedroom directly above her, Scarlett Dugan lay awake, fighting the tears.
She was her father's big girl, and she was determined to be just that. She
would not cry. She would hold it all inside her. For Max and Maddy. For
Mother. For him.

Even
if she did want to scream.

Next
door to her, Max Dugan lay in his bed, sleeping fitfully, suffering the
nightmare again. The black car came slowly down Drake Avenue, then stopped in
front of their house, and two men in uniforms got out.

Back
downstairs, Maddy Dugan woke with a fright. Again. She didn't know why she
got scared every night now, but she did. She rolled out of bed and ran down
the hall to her mommy and daddy's bedroom and climbed up into bed. Mommy was awake. She held her arms out to Maddy. She snuggled in next to her mother.

In
the house next door, Norbert Nordstrom stood at the second-floor window facing
the Dugan house. He heard their thoughts. He lived their dreams. He felt their
fears. In the year that he and his father had been on Earth, they had lived in
France and Russia and India and Los Angeles. He had met humans and studied
humans and gotten to know humans; but he had never been befriended by humans or
felt an attachment to humans. They had always just been life forms to study.

Until
now.

He
felt a presence and knew it was his father.

"I
care for these humans," Norbert said. "They are not like the ones we
have met before, like in L.A., pushing and shoving and trampling each other."

"You
mean those paparazzi when we happened upon the human named Britney Spears on Rodeo Drive?"

"No.
I mean those shoppers at the Wal-Mart on Black Friday."

"Ah."

"Father,
I want to help these humans," Norbert said.

"I
wish we could," his father said. "But we cannot. That is not our
mission here on Earth."

 

 

"There's
got to be sneakers made in America," I said.

The
newspaper reporter was right: If everyone stopped wearing the Legend Jones
sneakers for sports, what were they supposed to wear? Sunny said we had to
give them an answer. So after school the next day, we all walked over to the
sporting goods store on South Congress—after we picked up Norbert at his house.
It was my dad's favorite store. He loved sports. Not watching, but playing.
He worked out with the weights in the garage every day then ran the streets
with all the other runners in Austin. He loved to hike the Barton Creek
Greenbelt and swim in the Barton Springs Pool even though the spring water was
really cold. He had been a good athlete, but he didn't expect me to be like
him. He wasn't living his dreams through me. "I have my own life and my
own dreams," he said, "and you have yours. You live your dreams, Max,
not mine."

I
liked that about him.

Famous
athletes' smiling faces greeted shoppers from posters hanging from the high
ceiling. Equipment, apparel, and shoes for baseball, basketball, soccer,
tennis, and golf, dumbbells and barbells and weight machines, treadmills,
punching bags, bicycles, kayaks—you name the sport, and this store had the
gear.

"A
shrine to sports," Sunny said.

"Isn't
it great?" Dee said.

We
went straight to the shoe department that stretched along one entire side of
the store. Every shoe for every sport. We started at the first row. Dee held up a shoe and said, "Made in China."

Eddie
grabbed another shoe. "Made in China."

We
went down the rows checking the labels on the shoes.

"China."

"China."

"Mexico."

"China."

"Vietnam."

"China."

"China."

"Vietnam."

"Nothing's
made in America," Dee said. "So what are we supposed to wear?"

"We've
got a bigger problem, guys," Dee said. He lowered his voice. "Nothing's
worked so far with Norbert. We're running out of stupid human things."

"That
doesn't seem possible."

I
looked around for Norbert and spotted him in the women's apparel department.
He was holding up some kind of undergarment. I called to him.

"Norbert—you
don't want to go there!"

The
St. Vincent de Paul Thrift Store on South Congress did not feature big posters
of famous athletes and the sports brands they endorsed. None of the shoppers
were decked out in the latest styles of sports gear. Here, the walls were bare
and the racks filled with used clothes being bought by poor people.

And
Scarlett Dugan.

When
we walked inside, I immediately spotted my sister and almost fell over. Miss
Fashion Plate was shopping for secondhand clothes.

"What
are you doing here?" I said.

"Oh,
I just thought it was kind of stupid to wear trendy clothes when they're made
in sweatshops," she said.

See?
She is perfect. We exchanged a fist-bump.

"Only
thing is," Eddie said, "none of these clothes were made in America either."

Scarlett
held up a pair of Barney underwear—with her thumb and index finger like she
used to hold up Maddy's dirty diapers.

"Max,
are these yours?"

Before
I could come up with a witty reply, Norbert reached up and grabbed the
underwear from Scarlett. He held them out and admired them.

"I
like them!"

"Dude,
that is wrong in so many ways."

 

 

I
hit a home run in my baseball game the next morning. All the guys were there.
Norbert, too, of course. How else could I have hit a home run? We had
returned home and were now swinging in Norbert's backyard. The gravity of the
decision weighed on me. Dee gave me a palms-up "Well?" gesture
behind Norbert's back. I nodded back. It was dangerous, but we had no choice.

To
save Earth, we would show Norbert a Will Ferrell movie.

"Say,
Norbert," I said, "you want to watch a great movie?"

"
Lord
of the Rings?
"

"Uh,
no. Something even better."

"Excellent.
I very much enjoy human movies."

We
went inside his house to the room with the big TV screen. Sunny had gotten
the movie through her mother's Netflix account. She handed the DVD to Norbert; he read the title.

"
Talladega
Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.
Is Ricky Bobby a human
legend?"

"Uh,
yeah, something like that."

"So
this movie is about his life?"

"Yeah.
It won all kinds of awards."

"It
must be excellent. Let us watch this movie."

Norbert
inserted the DVD and started the movie. Sunny turned away and flashed crossed
fingers. We all sat on the couch. Norbert started laughing at the scene of
Ricky Bobby saying grace at the dinner table—"Those two youngsters, they
are quite precocious"—and he didn't stop laughing until the final credits
had run. He had tears in his eyes. But not for the reason we had hoped.

"Will
Ferrell is a genius," Norbert said. "That hospital scene in which he
thinks he is paralyzed, that was brilliant acting. Absolutely
brilliant." He paused. "Although I must say that I would have
preferred to continue my existence without the image in my mind of him running
around the race track in his underwear. But still, that is the funniest movie
by a human I have ever seen."

"Sounds
like an award," Eddie said. "Best Comedy by a Human."

"And
his portrayal of Ricky Bobby's personal struggle from star race car driver to
pizza delivery boy and back—how could any human summon the intestinal fortitude
to recover from such a downfall?"

"It's
in the script," Sunny said.

"I
love humans! You are so much fun!"

"Stupid
but fun," I said.

"Humans
are the most creative life forms I have ever encountered. That is a sign of
higher intelligence."

"Great,"
I said with a groan.

Norbert
glanced around at us. We were all frowning. Our plan to save the world had
failed miserably.

"What
is wrong, Max?" Norbert asked.

"We
haven't been honest with you, Norbert."

"You
have lied to me?"

"Sort
of. All the stuff this week—the football game, the reality TV shows, Kim
Kardashian, this Will Ferrell movie—that was to show you how stupid humans are."

Norbert
nodded. "I know."

"You
knew?"

He
nodded. "You hoped to convince me that humans lack the necessary intelligence
so my government should not take over Earth and then I would convince my
father."

I
nodded.

"But,
Max, humans are intelligent creatures—not like us, of course, but almost as
intelligent as Martians."

"No,
we're not. We're really stupid. Humans eat fast food, smoke cigarettes, use
drugs, drive gas-guzzling cars, take steroids to hit home runs, pollute the air
we breathe—how stupid is that?"

"Okay,
that is stupid. But humans enjoy their existence. You have fun. We are like
the Russians—we do not know how to have fun. We work so hard to achieve success
that we have forgotten what we are trying to achieve as we conquer one planet
after another. My father says he thinks it is just to keep us busy."

I
nodded. "Our grownups do the same thing. But kids don't. We have
fun."

"We
should have fun before our existence is terminated."

"But
you're going to terminate our existence before we've had all our fun."

Norbert
put his hand on my shoulder.

"Max,
you are my friend. I do not want my government to take over Earth."

"Really?
That's great! So you'll stop your dad?"

Norbert
shook his head. "I cannot do that. He must do what is best for our
planet."

"What
about our planet?" Sunny said.

"Perhaps
he will recommend against taking over Earth," Norbert said.

"You
really think so?" I said.

"No."

"Anyway
you can find out?"

"Yes."

He led us into the room with the computers. He spoke static and gibberish soon
filled the screen. Norbert studied the screen for a long moment, then shook
his head slowly.

"What?"

Norbert
gestured at the screen. "That."

"What's
it mean?" I said.

Norbert
hit a button and the gibberish instantly became English. It was his father's
report on the possible takeover of Earth. One word in bold print caught my
eye: FAVORABLE.

"He's
recommending the takeover?"

Norbert
nodded. "I am sorry."

"Dang.
There's nothing we can do?"

"No.
He will file his report by the end of the month."

Norbert
spoke to his computer, and the screen went black.

"Our
world is lost," Dee said. "Did you get those Twinkies?"

"I
am sorry," Norbert said.

"About
Twinkies?"

"About
Earth."

"Look,
Norbert," I said, "even though your government is going to conquer
Earth, steal all our natural resources, and make us your slaves, I know it's
not your fault. You're like part of our family now. You're like a brother to
me."

"May
I still eat dinner with you?"

"Oh,
yeah, sure."

Norbert
seemed sad that night at dinner. Mom asked if he was okay; he said he was, but
I knew he wasn't. He said he liked us. Humans.

In
his native tongue, Norbert Nordstrom discussed the fate of planet Earth with
his father.