“It says no one has figured out why all the spiders and the vinegaroons are in Washington,” Ivan said.
I said, “Maybe it is spies doing it. Maybe they did drop a spider bomb on us.”
Max’s eyes were lit with inspiration, fixated on his obsession. “ ‘Sicken or blind’! Boy, what I wouldn’t give to let that thing loose on Slutcheon!”
Ivan was quiet, thinking. “They said the two vinegaroons they caught are on exhibit at the National Museum, in the Zoology Department. We could…go see them.”
“Pfft!” scoffed Max. “We need to catch one, not look at it!”
I said, “Where is it dry, with some rocks, around here?”
Ivan said, “There aren’t any rocks at the Tune Inn! A vinegaroon might be anywhere.”
“And now we know exactly where two are,” Max said very seriously.
Ivan and I looked at each other. Then we looked at Max. “I know what you’re thinking, Max,” I said. “No way! You’re nuts.”
“But maybe it’s not so nuts,” Ivan said. I was about to reason with them when Elena came out onto the porch, swelling our hearts. Max quickly scooped his iron filings into his orange pill bottle and Ivan put his mercury ball and dime into his green one and we ran to the porch to join her. Or they ran—I gimped along more pitifully than was necessary, hoping Elena would notice.
She seemed her normal self, although pale bruises were still visible on her wrist, and under her makeup, but faded to yellow.
She brushed some webs off her shoulders, saying, “Ugh! I’m so sick of these horrible things.” Then she flopped on her swing, and, noticing me, exclaimed, “Darling! What’s happened to you?” Elena opened her arms and I fell in, not caring that it hurt, coughing theatrically. She pushed me away after a quick hug so she could survey the damage more closely. “My poor baby! Did you fall off your bike?”
Max, jealous, said, “That’s not blood, it’s mercurochrome. It’s just some scrapes.”
“He drowned at the beach!” Ivan added sadly.
Elena hugged me again. “Oh, no! What would we do without you?” I could think of nothing to say to that and just stayed happily in the hug. She didn’t even seem to care that I was getting some open wound effluvia on her robe. “What about your foot?”
“Umm…I’m not sure. It might have been chomped by a barracuda or something while I was drownding,” I lied.
“Pfft!” said Max. “There aren’t even barracudas this far north.”
“Well, I’m so glad you’re okay, my precious John.” She lit up a lavender Vogue, exhaling luxuriantly.
To counter my lie, I said, “Elena, Beatriz figured out the entertainment for the Fiesta. We’re just going to do stuff we’re good at anyway.”
Elena said, “I think that’s a very sensible plan. I know everybody will love it.” She gave us all that big smile we loved, but then squinted at me. “John—your hair! So blond and adorable!”
“I guess the sun bleached it at the beach,” I said proudly.
“It’s very becoming. We will have to send you to Hollywood to be in the movies, you sexy thing.”
Max said, “Yeah. Maybe Night of the Monster Scab Boy.”
I sang out, “What you say is what you are. You’re a naked movie star.”
“Sure hope you don’t get any flesh-eating screwworms in those little scratches,” Max said.
A block over on Raymond Street, we heard Tim’s truck, ding-a-ling-a-ling. Elena gave us the usual dollar, and we skittered to the street. I forgot to limp. While we waited, I remembered the rubber and showed it off. Max immediately blew it up into a pale balloon, making me and Ivan laugh. Then Tim’s truck swung around the corner at the same time Beatriz came running out of her house. She raced Tim up the lane to Ivan’s steps, beating him. Max quickly exploded the rubber and pocketed it. Beatriz and Tim saw my pitiful torso at the same time, and Tim said, “Jeez, kid!” Beatriz, out of breath, exclaimed, “John, what happened?” I was glad to tell them, but before I could, Leonardo’s Olds pulled up, stopping next door at the Allgoods’. “Rumble” twanged darkly from the car radio and was abruptly shut off.
Leonardo and Dawn emerged from the Olds and Leonardo briskly headed for the Allgoods’. Dawn, looking sexy in tight dungarees with a plaid blouse tied at her waist, strolled over to Tim’s truck. She stared up at the porch where Elena lay, lazily pushing her swing with one foot and reading a magazine. Dawn called out in an insincere singsong voice, “Leo, I’d love a cherry Popsicle,” although she looked like she didn’t love anything at the moment. Leonardo never broke stride and disappeared into the house.
“Uh-oh,” Max whispered to me.
Tim said, a little uncertainly, “Hey, what does everybody want?” He handed Dawn the cherry Popsicle she asked for and she paid, struggling to get the change from her tight jeans, but didn’t leave. Tim looked nervous. The humid air thickened with tension and gnats. We waited silently for our treats, swatting and scratching ourselves distractedly. Dawn peeled down her Popsicle wrapper in a slow and deliberate way, and then stood there with a bony hip out, sucking the bloody-red ice lasciviously, glancing at the porch. We couldn’t take our eyes off her. Neither could Tim. He wordlessly gave us our usual and finally said, “Take this to your aunt,” handing Ivan a Toasted Almond Bar.
We started up the walk when suddenly Dawn shouted, “Hey!” and we all turned to her. “Take this to your bitch aunt, too.” And she gave Ivan the sideways finger, which was worse than a regular one. Stunned, we watched her stomp away, her ponytail switching angrily from side to side.
His face bright red, Tim said, “Jeez. I don’t know what that was, but don’t let it bother you guys, okay?” He quickly drove off, not jingling at all.
Ivan was as pale as the vanilla ice cream dripping from his uneaten Good Humor.
Beatriz, wide-eyed, whispered, “Yikes! She’s really scary.”
Max rapidly scraped his whole Creamsicle off its stick with his teeth, and, producing the popped rubber, placed the end of it over the top of the stick. Stretching the rubber back, he let it go with a sharp snap, and it sailed over the yews and landed on the Allgoods’ walk just as Dawn went into her house, slamming the door. “Take that, you scag slut!” Max yelled after her.
“What was that thing?” Beatriz asked. “A snakeskin?” We didn’t answer. When we turned back to the house, Elena was nowhere to be seen.