Dad gets in the front seat and turns on the engine.
DRIVE! DRIVE!
He makes the engine go LOUD and whips around to me. I’m glad there is a seat back between us because he is trying to get into my Personal Space.
Caitlin! I’m not happy about this. Next time I need some warning —
I’M WARNING YOU! I say in my warning voice.
CAITLIN!
DRIVE! DRIVE! FAST! NOW!
He lurches out of the driveway and I’m thrown off the backseat.
PUT ON YOUR SEAT BELT! he yells.
DON’T YELL! I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE YELL!
Dad mutters a lot of things but I can’t hear them and I don’t care because at least he’s not yelling.
What time is it NOW Dad?
We have plenty of time.
WHAT TIME IS IT?
IT’S — he stops and takes a breath — it’s six forty-eight.
We’ll get there at six fifty-seven. Unless you HURRY then maybe we can get there at six fifty-six. Then we have to park and walk inside.
Where is the play?
I TOLD YOU! At SCHOOL!
I know, he hisses, but where in the school?
I freeze. Cafeteria? Gym? Classroom? I DON’T KNOW! OH NOOOOO!
Dad switches to his Nice Voice fast. We’ll find it. It’s okay. It’s okay. And we’ll get there in plenty of time. No problem. You’ll see Michael. And Michael will be happy to see you. It’s great to have a friend. Isn’t it? I’m really proud of you.
He keeps talking but I don’t listen. I just moan and chew and suck my sleeve until we pull into the school and he says, Ahh the lights are on in the cafeteria and lots of people and little kids are there so that’s where it is. You see? Everything is okay.
Dad pulls into a Handicapped Spot right by the cafeteria door and I tell him, You can’t park here, but he turns off the engine and opens his door and says, This counts.
He opens my door and says, Come on. We made it.
There is no place left to sit where I can actually see Michael who is dressed in a smashed cardboard box that’s painted yellow to look like a pear. Sort of. I have to stand against the wall by the OUT door. I hate standing up. It makes my feet hurt. And I can smell the wet cafeteria smell and the lights are too bright.
At least I’m farther away from the noisy people. They are all talking LOUD about anything. I hear security system and school board and babysitter and nightmares and ulcer and high fiber. Not one person says food pyramid or dairy product or candy or anything about why they are here. They are worse than my class because most of the time we at least know what the subject is. They might as well go home if they don’t want to be here. That’s what Mrs. Johnson says.
Finally Mrs. Hanratty the kindergarten teacher gets up and tells everyone about healthy eating and the play begins and the people finally focus — their cameras at least.
Michael looks around the room and I know he is looking for me so I raise my hand high and close and open it three times and then six before he notices and waves back with a big grin on his face.
Afterward I tell Michael he looks like a pear even though he looks more like a kid in a squished cardboard box. The part about the squished box I just think in my head.
I think that makes him happy because he smiles. And he says, You’re like my big sister.
It makes me feel kind of warm and glowy on the inside.
Wait here! he says, and is back a moment later dragging a man. This is my dad.
You must be Caitlin. It’s great to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you, Michael’s dad says.
I don’t like football, I tell him.
Oh, he says.
But it’s okay if you do. I remember to smile.
Thank you! He smiles at me too and so does Michael.
Then Dad and Michael’s dad talk for a long time while Michael and I try to make the food pyramid out of all the snacks. It’s really hard to get brownies to balance on top of carrot sticks though.
On the drive home I think about Michael being dressed up as a pear and how that’s better than having to dress up as a ham like Scout did in To Kill a Mockingbird.
I ask Dad, Do you remember that movie?
What movie?
To Kill a Mockingbird.
Oh. Yes I do.
It’s a good one isn’t it?
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it but it was one of the best.
Devon liked it too.
Dad clears his throat and his hands clench and unclench the steering wheel. Yes he did.
Do you think I’m like Scout?
The little girl in the movie? Dad nods. Then he also says, Very much.
I grin. You’re like Atticus. He was brave.
Thank you. He sighs. I wish I were more like Atticus.
Being like Scout makes me happy so I want him to feel just like Atticus. Maybe you can get glasses like his.
If I ever need glasses I’ll think about buying some like his.
Maybe you should dress like him.
I’m not sure. His clothes are too practical for my kind of job.
Maybe you can shoot a dog.
We swerve on the road a little. I’d rather not do that.
Just one that was going to kill us. A sick dog. Can I get some overalls like Scout?
Honey… we have to live in the real world. I like you as Caitlin.
But you said the movie was the best.
For a movie. But this is real life. A movie isn’t as good as real life. It can’t even compare.
Dad is wrong about that. A movie is better than real life because in the movies only the bad guys die. Or you can pick the good movies where the bad guys die and only watch those. If you get tricked and a good person dies in the movie then you can rewrite it in your head so the good person lives and the part about death is superfluous.
Right honey?
Dad has been talking but I wasn’t ready to listen. What?
Life is special.
You mean… it’s not just me who’s special? It’s all of life?
Yes.
I guess the good news is that everybody has to put up with being special because everybody is alive.
CHAPTER 35
MONKEY BARS
ON MONDAY WE HAVE A FIRE drill which means first recess is late so they get to stay out for part of second recess. I don’t like that many kids at once. That many kids can only lead to problems which is exactly what happens. Mrs. Brook has to take three boys inside who get in a big fight.
I look around for Michael. I still feel warm and fuzzy because I’m his big sister. I’ll take care of him just like Devon always took care of me. Scout’s honor.
And then I see Michael and my hands start shaking.
He is on the monkey bars.