My Life in the Fish Tank

by Barbara Dee

  SCARLETT: Oh no! I hate tofu! It tastes like a soapy dishwashing sponge! There’s only one hope!

  GABRIEL: Exactly! We must get Drools to neutralize the alien with super-slobber!

  ME: What’s “neutralize” mean?

  SCARLETT: “Turn off.” Shh, Zinny.

  ME: Okay. But no killing!

  GABRIEL: Drools, go ahead! SLOBBER ATTACK!

  AIDEN: (climbs off sofa, crawls around TV room making slobbery mouth noises)

  GABRIEL: Good work, Drools! Here’s a bone for you as a reward. But wait! The zombies have captured me! And now I can’t—smffrff!

  SCARLETT: Don’t worry, Captain Bob! We’ll save you!

  ME: The zombies got him?

  SCARLETT (ignoring me): We’ll defeat them with my magic flyswatter! Drools, what are you saying? No flyswatter?

  AIDEN: Arf, arf!

  SCARLETT: Well, okay, Drools, if you insist. Run into the haunted house to save Captain Bob from the zombies! But don’t slobber on the sofa! And be careful!

  Middle of February

  Aiden’s class took a trip to the Natural History Museum, so he was late getting home that day. I knew he’d be late—his teacher had sent a note explaining the schedule—but even so, when I got home from school and he wasn’t at the dining room table with his juice box and all his notebooks spread out, my heart started to skip a little.

  I scolded myself: Don’t freak out! People are allowed to be late! It doesn’t mean something terrible happened!

  But still, I couldn’t focus on my homework, or on anything else. I just kept chewing my lip until it felt sore, then smeared on some cherry ChapStick. And the way Mom was pacing around the living room, peeking out the curtain every five minutes, I could tell she was starting to freak too.

  Finally, we heard the doorbell: bling blang. Mom and I both ran to the front door. There was Aiden (looking a bit carsick, I thought), along with Rudy and Rudy’s nosy mom, Mrs. Halloran.

  “Returning your package,” Mrs. Halloran said, laughing as if she’d cracked the most hilarious joke in the world. “Aiden had a great time. Didn’t you, honey?”

  Aiden nodded. “Yeah, we saw an a-pat-o-SAUR-us.”

  “You mean a-PAT-osaurus,” Rudy corrected him, rolling his eyes.

  “Aiden’s right, actually,” I said.

  Rudy shrugged in a snotty way. “Nah,” he told me. “I know all about dinosaurs. And how to pronounce them.”

  Rudy’s mom beamed. “Yes, Rudy’s obsessed with paleontology; I keep telling myself it’s not a problem! Anyway, Aiden was very well-behaved on the class trip. It was a pleasure being assigned to supervise him.”

  Well-behaved. Supervise. A-PAT-osaurus. I narrowed my eyes at both of them.

  “Well, Rosa, thanks for bringing Aiden home,” Mom said lamely.

  “No problem.” Suddenly Mrs. Halloran grabbed Mom’s hand. “So how is Gabriel doing?” she asked in a voice dripping with concern.

  “Oh, he’s doing very well, thanks,” Mom replied. “All healed up now. Back in school, and working hard!”

  Wait, what?

  I stared at Mom, who was doing a stiff little fake smile.

  And I felt this in my stomach: She wasn’t “protecting Gabriel’s privacy”; she was lying. Adding details, pretending Gabriel was back in college, “doing very well” and “working hard.” Why would Mom lie about Gabriel? Was she ashamed that her own kid was crazy?

  Really, I couldn’t think of any other reason.

  Two Days Later, in Morning Homeroom

  On Wednesday, my homeroom teacher handed me a sealed blue envelope. ZINNIA MANNING, it said in green ink, all caps.

  “What’s that?” Maisie asked immediately. “It looks like an invitation. You should open it, Zinny.”

  Did she think I wouldn’t? And that I needed her to tell me that?

  I carefully unsealed the envelope and took out a pale blue notecard. With Maisie and Kailani looking over my shoulder, I unfolded it to read more green ink:

  Dear Zinnia,

  You are invited to join today’s Lunch Club in Mr. Patrick’s room (107B). We all look forward to seeing you there!

  Welcome!

  Mr. Patrick, Luz, Jayden, Keira, and Asher

  “Oh, ugh,” Maisie said behind her hand.

  I looked at her. “Why do you say that?”

  She leaned closer. “Zinny, it sounds like one of those awful guidance groups, where they make you sit in a circle and do bonding exercises. My sister was stuck in a group like that the year she had no friends; I know it’s the kind of thing you’d hate. And those other kids…” She made a barf face.

  I nodded. I didn’t know any Luz or Jayden, which probably meant they were eighth graders. But Asher Hyland was a seventh grader; he was famous at school for being weird. And the only thing I knew about Keira Jacobson was that she was always getting into fights with people. Why did Mr. Patrick think I needed to hang out with kids like that?

  “Maybe you don’t have to do it,” Maisie said. “I mean, it’s just an invitation, right?”

  I reread the green words. You are invited to join. Like this “Lunch Club” was some sort of special honor.

  “I guess I could say no thanks,” I said. “I mean, it’s just an invitation.”

  “Although it could be not so bad,” Kailani said softly.

  Maisie bug-eyed her. “Are you serious, Kailani? Those guidance groups are like torture.”

  “I don’t know. If it’s a lunch club, they probably have food.” Kailani shrugged.

  “Who cares about food?” Maisie demanded. “The point is that Zinny needs lunchtime to be with her friends! Mr. Patrick is a guidance counselor, so he should understand that, right?”

  What she said made my cheeks burn. After the almond-butter-and-banana sandwich lunch, I’d been afraid to go back to see Ms. Molina, because I didn’t want to be all, So? Did you get my herbs yet? But my plan was to go to the lab today. Not eat in the lunchroom with Maisie and Kailani.

  Then I remembered how Ms. Molina had eaten a slice of Mr. Patrick’s birthday cake. Which didn’t mean they were friends or anything, but it did mean they talked to each other. For all I knew, they’d planned this “invitation” together. A tiny part of me wondered if it was Ms. Molina’s idea. Zinny’s been hanging out with me a little too much lately. Know any weirdo kids she could sit in a room with during lunch period?

  “Just don’t go,” Maisie told me. “No one’s forcing you to do it. And what could happen if you don’t?”

  “I guess I’ll find out,” I said, tossing the envelope and the blue notecard in the trash.

  * * *

  When Gabriel gets his driving license, he wants to see how far he can drive Mom’s car on an empty tank. Just out of curiosity, he says. So when the fuel gauge flashes Empty, he doesn’t get gasoline. And when the car stops moving halfway down the hill on Baker Street, he calls Dad at work, who doesn’t think it’s funny. At all.

  “Gabriel, what was the point of that experiment?” he shouts at my brother when they finally get home.

  “I just wanted to see what would happen,” Gabriel says.

  “Yeah? Well, let me tell you what happened.” Dad crosses his arms on his chest. “You pulled me out of an important meeting. We wasted an hour waiting for the garage to bring gas. And let’s not forget the most important detail here: you put yourself in danger by driving a car that wasn’t functioning.” Dad shakes his head. “Gabriel, you’re a smart kid. But explain this—you thought the refill-the-gas-tank rule just didn’t apply to you?”

  * * *

  Gabriel never answered that question.

  Because really, what could he say? It was such a dumb and dangerous thing to do. And so inconsiderate of everybody else.

  Was I like my brother that way? Did I think some things just didn’t apply to me—like Mr. Patrick’s “invitation,” for example?

  The question made my heart bang, and gave me a strange, cold, sweaty feeling all morning
.

  Same Day, Fourth Period

  By fourth-period math, I’d changed my mind about Lunch Club. My reasoning was this: Even if Ms. Molina hadn’t arranged the whole thing, I knew that if I ignored the “invitation,” she’d hear about it in the teachers’ room, either directly from Mr. Patrick or over some other teacher’s birthday cake. Then maybe the next time I showed up at her lab during lunch, she’d chase me away. And I desperately needed to hang out with her and see photos of tarantulas.

  Besides, I told myself, I only needed to go once. I could show up in Mr. Patrick’s room fifth period, be polite, smile at everyone, and never go back. The invitation had said You are invited to join today’s Lunch Club, not You are invited to join Lunch Club from now until you lose all your grown-up teeth. I wouldn’t just ignore the blue notecard; I’d keep everyone (except my friends) happy.

  Of course, I didn’t explain this to Maisie and Kailani. Because they wouldn’t understand—not the refill-the-gas-tank rule, not Gabriel’s behavior, not the Ms. Molina part, none of it.

  Same Day, Lunch Period

  The scene: Room 107B. Door is open. Girl is sitting on a lumpy-looking red couch. She has warm brown skin, dark hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and dimples.

  GIRL: You here for the group?

  ME (smearing lips with cherry ChapStick): Well, yes. If you mean the Lunch Club.

  GIRL (laughing a little): Lunch Club? No one calls it that but Mr. Patrick.

  ME: Really? What do you call it, then?

  GIRL: Ralph.

  ME (thought balloon): She’s joking, right?

  (Extremely cute, tall, skinny, Black boy with curly eyelashes, and small pale girl with frizzy brown hair and green glasses enter the room. I know who this girl is: Keira. They plop on the couch next to Girl, and greet one another warmly.)

  GIRL (to me): So I’m Luz. This is Jayden and Keira.

  JAYDEN (swats her on the arm): We can introduce ourselves. Luz thinks she runs this thing.

  LUZ (swats him back): I do not. So who are you?

  ME: Me? Um, Zinnia.

  JAYDEN (grins): Umzinnia is a funny name.

  ME (trying not to stare at him. Because he is cute. Way cuter than James Ramos): No, not Umzinnia. Just Zinnia, like the flower. But you can call me Zinny. Or Zin.

  (Asher enters—an olive-skinned boy with messy dark brown hair in his face. He slumps into the metal chair next to me, his arms folded across his chest. He stares at the floor tiles.)

  LUZ: I like that better. Zin.

  JAYDEN: Yeah, but it’s her name. So she gets to decide what we call her, not you.

  LUZ: I know that, you fool. I’m just voicing my honest opinion. Hey, Asher. How’s it going?

  ASHER: (grunting noise)

  JAYDEN: Yeah, me too.

  (Door opens. Mr. Patrick enters, wearing a green flannel shirt and khakis with baggy knees.

  MR. PATRICK (extending his hand to shake mine): Zinnia?

  LUZ: Zin.

  ME: Or Zinny. Whatever.

  MR. PATRICK: Well, we’re very glad to welcome you, Zinny. I’m Mr. Patrick. Have people been introducing themselves?

  LUZ: Keira hasn’t. And neither has Asher.

  KEIRA: Maybe we would if you’d stop talking, Luz. Anyhow, Zinny already knows who I am.

  MR. PATRICK (swivels desk chair to sit beside Asher, rubs hands, leans forward): So this week I ordered one pepperoni, one plain. Everyone approve?

  JAYDEN: Yeah.

  LUZ: I approve, but next time can we please get mushroom?

  KEIRA: Only you like mushroom, Luz.

  LUZ: Yes, but I don’t like it. I love it.

  KEIRA: Then bring your own and add it to the plain.

  LUZ: Oh, great, Keira. You want me to sauté some mushrooms at home and bring them to school every week in a little sandwich bag? That will just get all smashed up inside my backpack?

  KEIRA: Hey, I’m not telling you how to bring them. I’m just saying since you’re the only one who eats mushroom—

  MR. PATRICK (interrupting): The pizza will be here in a few minutes, guys, so why don’t we get started. Anybody want to get the ball rolling?

  LUZ: I will. So my mom? She, like, totally lost it on Saturday because I was with my friends and forgot to tell her I’d be fifteen minutes late. She went insane on me, I swear. And then my dad was like, “Don’t you ever, ever do that to your mother again, you hear me, Luz?” Like I did it to her.

  MR. PATRICK: That must have been tough to deal with, Luz. Why do you think your mom reacted that way?

  LUZ: Because she’s crazy.

  JAYDEN: She isn’t crazy. She’s just worried about you.

  LUZ: Yeah, but I don’t give her anything to worry about. Ever. So it’s totally unfair she’s taking it out on me.

  MR. PATRICK: Taking what out on you?

  LUZ: You know. The whole thing with my sister. Grief.

  ME (panicky thought balloon): Wait a minute. Did she just say “grief”? Is that what this club is about? Because if it is—

  KEIRA: Yeah, my mom is exactly the same. Ever since my dad left, it’s like she thinks I’m divorcing her too. “What time will you be home? Where will you be in the next five minutes?” She does it to my sister Jocelyn, too, who’s in high school, so she, like, freaks.

  LUZ: Right? Omigod. It’s so embarrassing! (Turns to me.) Does your mom check up on you all the time, Zin?

  ME: Mine? No, not really. And my parents aren’t divorced, so.

  KEIRA: You’re lucky, then. It sucks.

  ME (confused thought balloon): So I guess this is the Grief and Divorce Club? Maybe?

  (Long, uncomfortable pause.)

  MR. PATRICK: So how’s your dad doing, Jayden?

  JAYDEN: Pretty good. On Saturday he played basketball with my brother and me. For almost an hour. First time since he got sick.

  ME (even more confused thought balloon): Okay… the Grief and Divorce and Sick Dad Club? Not sure I see where this is heading…

  LUZ (smacks Jayden’s arm): What? Why didn’t you tell me?

  JAYDEN: I was saving it.

  LUZ: Dude, I need to hear happy stuff like that.

  KEIRA: So do I. Don’t keep it to yourself, Jayden! That’s just mean!

  JAYDEN (beams): Sorry.

  MR. PATRICK: Well, that’s wonderful news, Jayden. Did you guys keep score?

  JAYDEN: Nah. But I made two three-pointers. And Dad had a slam dunk.

  MR. PATRICK (fist-bumps Jayden): Nice. What about you, Asher?

  ASHER: What about me what?

  LUZ: Hey, that’s rude!

  MR. PATRICK: It’s okay, Luz. We were just wondering how things are going, Asher.

  ASHER (shrugs): Same.

  MR. PATRICK: Okay. Want to share anything?

  ASHER: If I felt like “sharing,” I would.

  MR. PATRICK: Got it. Well, maybe next time.

  ASHER: Yeah, maybe. Maybe not.

  (Another pause.)

  (Pause still going.)

  (Still going.)

  (Yep. Still going.)

  ME: (sound of heart beating)

  MR. PATRICK: Zinny, how about you?

  ME (fidgets with super-tiny-chair charm in hoodie pocket): Me?

  LUZ: Come on, we won’t bite.

  KEIRA: And if we do, it’s not poisonous. Usually.

  LUZ: Never. Shut up, Keira. (Slaps her arm playfully.)

  ME: Um. Well, actually, I’m not sure I want to do this… club, or whatever it is. Actually. But, um, thanks for inviting me today.

  LUZ (pouts): You don’t like us?

  ME: No, no. I just don’t—I don’t know. Need to do this. Sorry.

  KEIRA: Nobody ever thinks they need to do this.

  LUZ: Yeah, well, I do.

  KEIRA: Okay, Luz, but you’re weird. Anyway, two kids dropped out last month, didn’t they?

  MR. PATRICK: And they’re always welcome back, Keira. So are you, Zinny, anytime. Lunch Club is just about being here for ea
ch other while we’re going through some challenging stuff in our lives. It’s okay to just show up and enjoy a slice of pizza.

  JAYDEN: Which is always really good, by the way. Much better than the cafeteria.

  KEIRA: Yeah, much. Even the plain.

  MR. PATRICK: And, Zinny, if you do choose to share with us, you should know nothing leaves this room.

  LUZ: Right. Because it’s classified information! And we all have top-level security clearance.

  JAYDEN: Ha.

  LUZ: Well, I do, anyway. And so does Asher, but he’ll never confess. Oh, and also we have a secret handshake.

  JAYDEN (laughing): We do? What is it?

  LUZ (mysterious voice): Zinny has to tune in next episode to find out.

  Same Day, Running to Next-Period Science

  Well, that was awkward.

  But I did it.

  Once.

  And now I never have to do it again

  Even if they invite me.

  Which they probably won’t—

  I mean, it was pretty clear that I didn’t

  want to be there.

  Not that they did either, obviously.

  Because really

  Mr. Patrick could serve the best pizza—

  All the toppings just the way you like

  them

  (Or no toppings at all)

  A perfect thin crust

  Fresh tomato sauce

  And extra cheese—

  But still

  No one wants to be in a club like that.

  Same Day, Science Class

  At the start of science class Ms. Molina announced that she was ready to reveal which animal we’d be studying in our spring animal unit.

  “Hey, I know, a vampire bat,” guessed James Ramos. “Or a vampire.”

  “No, it’s Sasquatch,” said Darius Blade, a loud, spitty boy with too many freckles. “Or wait. How about an assassin vine?”

  “What’s that?” Aspen Garber asked. She looked worried.

  “Assassin vines? They’re these vines that trap animals and squeeze them to death like cobras. They have this poison fruit that looks like grapes—”