Regular Guy (6 page)

T
he next morning I woke up feeling lighter than I'd felt in a long time. I knew I was where I belonged. I lay in bed, running my fingers over the notches at the tops of my earlobes and listening to the sounds in my house. I could hear my parents laughing in the kitchen. My mother's heels clicked across the floor as she went to turn on the radio. She tuned it in to something jazzy, and I knew when I went down there that she and my dad would probably be dancing.

I got up and opened my top drawer. It was full of brand-new white underwear. I
opened the sock drawer—the pairs were still unmatched, but somehow it didn't bother me. I pulled on my clothes and went down to the kitchen. Just as I'd predicted, my mom and dad were doing a tango. Mom's head was thrown back and her eyes were closed. Instead of a red rose between her teeth, she gripped a plastic spatula. Everything was back to normal.

“Good morning!” I called as I grabbed a pancake off the plate, folded it, and shoved it into my mouth.

My parents stopped dancing and watched as I downed another pancake and then gulped some orange juice.

“You feeling all right, son?” my father asked.

“Yeah, Dad, I feel fine.”

“We were worried about you yesterday, Guy,” he said.

“I know, I was worried about me too. But I'm fine now. Really.”

My father reached into his pocket and
handed me a stack of baseball cards.

“I'm still looking for a couple of them.”

“Forget about it, Dad. This is fine. Really. Thanks.”

I slipped the cards into my back pocket and left my parents standing in the kitchen hand in hand as I headed off to the fort to meet Buzz.

 

“So, what did I look like when I fainted?” Buzz asked.

“Like sleeping beauty, only ugly.” I laughed.

“I'm rubber, you're glue—” he started, but he stopped mid-sentence when Bob-o stuck his head in the door. Buzz and I looked at each other.

“Uh, come on in, Bob-o,” I said.

Bob-o stepped inside. He looked different. It took me a minute to figure out that he was wearing new pants—long enough to cover his socks. His hair was also slicked back. He still looked weird, but somehow it was a little better.

“What's up, Bob-o?” Buzz asked.

Bob-o did his shrug thing and stuck his hands in his pockets. Then he looked at me. He said something, but I couldn't hear him.

“Speak up, will ya?” I said.

“I, uh, wanted to thank you,” he said.

“Me? For what?” I asked.

“Well, for, for a bunch of stuff.”

“Like?”

“Like caring about my being dead even though I wasn't. And letting me come to the fort. And making me realize that they're driving me nuts.”

“Who's driving you nuts?” Buzz asked.

“My parents, who do you think?” Bob-o answered.

“You know, Bob-o, I have to agree with you on that one,” said Buzz. “Those two are definitely bizarre-o.”

“You're telling me. They're turning me into a nervous wreck,” said Bob-o. “I had no idea what it felt like to relax until I spent the weekend with your folks, Guy.”

I had to laugh. “You found my parents
relaxing
?”

“Yeah. Plus you can hear your mom coming a mile away, which is a very good quality in a mother.”

“I know exactly what you're talking about, Bob-o,” I said.

“That makes two of you,” said Buzz.

I smiled at my old friend.

“One thing, though,” Bob-o said seriously. “That oyster trick is really disgusting.”

“You get used to it,” I said. “Listen, Buzz, would you excuse us for a minute? I want to talk to Bob-o alone.”

Buzz didn't looked thrilled, but he went outside and pulled the door closed behind him.

“I owe you an apology,” I said. “I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“Forget it,” he said.

“Can I talk to you about something else?” I asked.

Bob-o gave the half shrug.

“It's about the tuna fish balls.”

Bob-o blushed and looked away.

“I think you should tell your mom you want hot lunch from now on. I told mine last night when we got home and she said okay. You and I can brave the mystery meat together.”

Bob-o grinned.

“Who knows, maybe it'll put hair on our chests,” he said as he stuck out his scrawny chest and flexed his nonexistent muscles.

I laughed and so did he.

“Okay, girls, enough with the private chitchat. Ready or not, here I come!” Buzz called out.

We spent the rest of that afternoon hanging out at the fort, the three of us, talking and laughing and just being regular guys. Well, Bob-o wasn't exactly regular yet, but Buzz and I agreed that his weirdness had a certain charm. When I headed for home at the end of the day, I felt older somehow and
a little wiser; and when I pushed open the screen door and saw the cake cooling on the counter, I shouted at the top of my lungs—

 

“I'm home!”