Lulu put her arms straight to her sides and marched toward her room. She was trying to be so dramatic that she accidentally dropped her binder, and papers flew everywhere. She scrambled for them, but I picked one up and saw that she had been making a numbered list. Number one said, “It’s a health code violation to let children eat on the floor.” She snatched the paper from my hands, glared at me, and huffed into her room.
India told me that when I was really little, Lulu had gotten a nanny named Amy fired by telling Mom and Dad that she didn’t think I liked her because I cried every time Amy came over and Mom and Dad left. India said the truth was that Amy wouldn’t let Lulu watch Jeopardy until all of her homework was done. It made Lulu mad.
“Did I cry when she came over and Mom and Dad left?” I asked India.
“Of course you did, you were two years old. You cried when anyone left. You even cried when Housman went outside to pee.”
“I did not,” I argued.
“You did too,” said India. “It’s documented in one of our family photo albums.” She ran over to the bookshelves, pulled down a burgundy photo album, and began flipping through it. She stopped and pulled out a picture of me when I was two years old, standing and crying by the back door. On the other side of the glass was Housman, peeing in the yard. India’s story was true. I hoped her story about Lulu’s getting a nanny fired wasn’t true.
At five o’clock, after we’d made s’mores in the fireplace, it was time for the manny to leave. Mom asked us to go play in our rooms so that she could talk to him privately. Ms. Grant has spoken to me privately at school. It means you’re in trouble. India took Belly into the bathroom to wash the paint off her face. I pretended to leave but hid behind the couch to see if Mom was going to make the manny write sentences: I will not let Belly color my head yellow. One time when Ms. Grant spoke to me privately, she made me write “I will not comb my hair during class” on a piece of paper twenty-five times. I thought it was fun. I didn’t tell Ms. Grant, but I like to practice my handwriting.
Instead of making him write sentences, Mom told the manny that she would like to hire him as our nanny. I let out a “whoopee” and then remembered that I was hiding. I growled a little and barked so that they would think that it was Housman. Mom and the manny kept talking. The manny told Mom that he never really stayed in one place for very long because he loved adventures. I bet he’s been bungee jumping and skinny-dipping. Those are two things that I’m not adventurous enough to do. I guess Lulu won’t have to work too hard to get him to leave. She hates adventure. She won’t even let Dad push her on the swings. The manny also told Mom that he understood if she found a nanny who could commit for a longer time.
Mom said, “I’ll keep an eye out, but for now I think that it would be great to have you working with the children.” Then he and Mom began to talk about pay and schedules.
Now the manny comes to our house every day of the week, except for Saturdays and Sundays. He said that Saturdays and Sundays are the days that he works as a fashion runway model in Paris. Lulu said that he was kidding and that he probably just does his laundry and dishes on the weekend like everybody else.
Lulu tries her hardest not to smile or laugh when the manny is around. She usually just sits and writes in her three-ring binder. She told India that she is keeping a log of all of the things the manny does that she thinks are going to scar us for life. She said that either she’ll use it now to reason with Mom and Dad, or she’ll use it later in therapy.
She calls it “The Manny Files.” I saw the title page, and the words were written really big like in one of Dad’s important documents.
Yesterday Lulu devoted a whole page in “The Manny Files” to inappropriate things that the manny thought were funny, like when he jumped on the trampoline with us. He laughed when I spun so fast that drool came out of my mouth. Drool always comes out of my mouth when we jump on the trampoline. Usually everyone squeals “Gross” and won’t come near me. They never laugh. The manny even cleaned up my slobber with the bottom of his sock.
Lulu just said, “That’s disgusting,” and scribbled some notes.
The manny can do flips. He said that when he was little, his dad used to take him to the doughnut shop and make him do back handsprings for all of his friends. They always got free doughnuts.
I want to go to a doughnut shop with him.
He taught Lulu how to do a back handspring. She wrote down “Back handspring” in her “Things I Can Do” book, right underneath “Deliver puppies” and “Play the piano.” She told me that the manny really didn’t help her very much, but I could tell that he had by the way he grunted when he spotted her.
3
I See London, I See France
Lulu has been taking piano lessons for two years. I’ve never done anything for two years, unless you count wetting the bed. I did that when I was three and four. When I stopped wetting the bed, Dad bought me Egyptian cotton sheets. They were just like the ones at the St. Regis Hotel. I’ve never been to the St. Regis Hotel, but Grandma told me that they serve excellent room-service omelets, and that it’s near Saks Fifth Avenue. The carpets are red.
Lulu has her spring piano recital on Friday. She has been practicing two songs that she has to play solo. At school solo means “all by yourself, without the help of your neighbor.” I learned that when I asked my friend Sarah how to spell the word committee during a spelling test.
“Ahem.” Ms. Grant cleared her throat and stared at me from her desk. She asked, “Keats, is there a problem I can help you with?”
I said, “No. I was telling Sarah that I thought the bun in your hair made you look pretty.”
Ms. Grant spoke to me privately after school. She said she was “fixin’” to call my mother and father, but instead she made me write “I will work solo on tests” on a sheet of paper twenty-five times.
One night at dinner Lulu announced that she would have top billing in the program at the piano concert. She said that she wasn’t nervous about being on stage all by herself, but I could tell that she was. When India said, “All by yourself? Nobody else? All eyes on you?” Lulu turned white.
The manny told Lulu to wear lots of feathers and sequins like Liberace. India told me that Liberace is a fancy French cheese that is served with red wine. I guess you wear feathers and sequins when you eat it.
I’m going to order it the next time I’m at a fancy restaurant.
Lulu told the manny to mind his own business. Mom didn’t hear it. If she had, Lulu would have been grounded. We’re not allowed to speak to people (especially adults) the way Lulu spoke to the manny. I wanted to tell on her, but I stopped being a tattletale last year after I told Mom that Dad drank straight out of the milk carton. Dad called me a tattletale for a week.
Instead Mom asked the manny if he wanted to come to the piano recital with the rest of my family. He said that he couldn’t wait to start a standing ovation. Lulu got mad and promised that she would move to Kentucky and change her name to Spatula if the manny embarrassed her.
I hope he does.
The next day I went with the manny to pick up Lulu from her piano lesson. I usually stay in the car when we pick Lulu up from her piano lessons, because the piano teacher’s house smells like cats. She has eight scraggly-looking cats. Some of them are missing clumps of hair. One black-and-white fluffy one raised the hair on its back and hissed at me one time, and Mom had to pick me up to keep me safe.
I didn’t want to miss anything the manny did, so I went in the house this time. I stood right in the doorway and behind the manny. A cinnamon-colored cat rubbed up against my legs, while the black-and-white fluffy one stared at me from the top of the bookshelves. I kept an eye on him because he looked like he might pounce at any moment. The manny asked Lulu’s piano teacher if he could set up a booth after the recital and charge money for Lulu’s autographed sheet music. Lulu rolled her eyes and walked to the car like she was in a huff, but I could see by the way her hair jiggled that she
was pleased with herself. Mom says Lulu’s pleased with herself a lot. The piano teacher giggled and batted her eyelashes at the manny. We left the house just as a catfight was starting in the living room underneath the piano. We could hear the piano teacher trying to break up the fight until we were inside the Eurovan.
On the car ride home Lulu told the manny that she would prefer it if he didn’t get out of the car when he dropped her off or picked her up from activities like piano lessons or origami. (She once made a life-size horse out of folded paper.) The manny turned to Lulu and hissed like a cat. Lulu pretended not to hear him. She was writing in “The Manny Files.”
Lulu looked up from “The Manny Files” and caught me watching her writing in it. Without saying a word, she pointed up at the manny and then took her hand and made a throat-slicing sign, like she wanted to cut off his head. The manny didn’t see her. He was watching the road and waving to pedestrians he didn’t know to see who would wave back. I stuck my tongue out at Lulu, but I think she could still tell that I was worried.
At dinner that night Lulu told Mom and Dad that a boy from her class named Theodosius used to play the trumpet in the school band with a boy the manny knew. Theodosius said that the manny went to see the boy’s band concert last year and showed up with a conductor’s wand that he pretended to lead the band with. During the “Go, fight, win!” finale, whenever the band would pause, the manny would jump up and yell, “Go, Fight, Win!” Theodosius told Lulu that the boy now lives in Mexico, is called Mario, and plays the clarinet.
I wish my name were Theodosius.
Today was recital day. Mom curled Lulu’s hair, while India tried to put together an ensemble of clothes for Lulu to wear to her debut. India likes to say that she wears ensembles, not outfits. She says that ensembles are more sophisticated. I think that means R-rated. India chose a purple knee-length dress. The manny said that purple was a good choice because you wouldn’t be able to see sweat marks in the armpits. Lulu screamed. She hates the word armpit. She really didn’t think it was funny when the manny showed up in a shirt that was the same shade of purple as her dress. He said that he wanted his outfit to match hers so that everyone would know whom he was there to watch.
“It’s called an ensemble,” said India.
The manny said that if their “ensembles” matched, it would be more convenient if Lulu decided to pull him onstage for a tap-dancing, piano-playing encore. Dad said that the manny had a brilliant sense of humor. Lulu said he was “de-minted,” but I thought his breath smelled fine.
At the recital I sat next to the manny. I wore khaki pants and my blue sweater vest with a white collared shirt underneath it. The manny wore the same color of khaki pants as mine. I pointed this out to him and he smiled. He pointed out Lulu’s name in the program before he shoved it into his jacket pocket. He said he was keeping it for his scrapbook. I shoved my program in my pants pocket for my scrapbook.
During the performance Lulu went to the bathroom six times while the other kids were playing their songs. Whenever she left the auditorium, she had to walk past the manny. He gave her the thumbs-up sign every time. They called Lulu’s name to perform, but she was in the bathroom. They called her name two more times, but she didn’t come onstage. She finally ran quickly from the side of the stage to the piano. I thought she looked beautiful under the stage lights, like a picture from Mom’sVogue magazines. The audience clapped politely, and she looked around the room and found us. The manny gave her the thumbs-up sign.
She pulled out the piano bench, which made a screeching noise across the floor. Some people in the audience flinched and covered their ears. She nodded to the crowd, sat down on the bench, and began to play her first song, “Mr. Bojangles.” She had to start over three times. The manny turned and whispered in my ear, “She’s repeating for effect, just like the Rolling Stones.”
The manny always sings the Rolling Stones song “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” whenever Lulu wants something that she can’t have. She hates it when he sings to her. She gets red and looks like there’s a scream in her that can’t find its way out of her mouth.
Lulu’s second song was “Imagine,” by John Lennon. Dad explained the song to me. He said that it’s about dreaming for a world of peace where people’s differences are celebrated. At our school’s last Christmas pageant my class dressed up in costumes and sang “It’s a Small World After All.” My best friend, Sarah, wore a Japanese kimono. I dressed up like an Eskimo, but nobody could see me. The poofy-red-haired girl dressed up like a Native American and stood in front of me. She wore a tall, feathered headdress. I picked a red feather out of the back of it and put it in my pocket. She never even knew.
Lulu played “Imagine” perfectly, with not one mistake. I saw the lady in front of me wipe a tear off her cheek. When Lulu finished, she leaped to her feet to take a dramatic bow, just like she had practiced in front of her bedroom mirror. The audience roared with applause. Then she turned sideways to bow to her teacher.
And that’s when we all saw it.
The audience clapped louder and laughed a little.
Mom blushed.
Dad gasped.
India giggled.
Belly was looking for her shirt under the seats.
Lulu’s dress was tucked into the back of her underwear, the ones that said TUESDAY across the tush.
India said really loudly, “Isn’t this Friday?”
The manny leaned over to me and whispered, “I see London, I see France.”
Then he jumped up and cheered, and so did the person next to him, and then the next, until the whole crowd was on its feet clapping wildly. It was a standing ovation, just like the manny had promised. I thought about what color I would paint Lulu’s room if I got to have it after she moved to Kentucky and changed her name to Spatula. The clapping lasted for two whole minutes, which was how long it took Lulu to figure out that her panties were showing. She quickly untucked her dress and continued to bow.
Later the piano teacher told the manny that she had never seen an ovation like it and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He turned his favorite color. Red.
We went out for ice cream after the recital. Lulu got a chocolate malt. India got a huge banana split with strawberry, chocolate, and caramel sauces. Belly got a red grape slush. Mom and Dad split a chocolate soda. The manny got chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. I got a plain vanilla cone.
Mom and Dad were very proud and kept shaking hands with other parents who were saying nice things about Lulu’s piano skills. The manny told Lulu that she was a genius to make herself so memorable to the audience like that. He said that she was just like Madonna.
The manny turned to India and said, “I can’t wait until your gymnastics meet next week. Can I borrow a leotard?”
4
Be Interesting
Every year in April, Mom and Dad go on a vacation alone together to celebrate their wedding anniversary. Kids aren’t allowed. Dad says that the first time he kissed Mom, he saw fireworks. Mom says that she had a spiky, colorful hairdo when she met Dad and that he was actually looking at her bangs and not fireworks. Dad had a mohawk and a leather jacket with safety pins all over it when he met Mom. That sounds dangerous.
India says that the eighties were a fashion tragedy.
This year Mom and Dad are going away to Mexico for a whole week. Lulu wants to go because she says she needs to “feed her soul,” but Dad says that this trip is for romance. Lulu hates the word romance. Once, in a fancy restaurant, she insisted on sitting at her own table because Mom and Dad were cuddling in the booth. They had been fighting about finances the night before. Finances are the plastic cards that Mom uses to pay for groceries and clothes. I could hear them arguing through my bedroom wall. I hated it, but they made up before they went to bed. The next morning they were in their terrycloth robes hugging each other while they waited for their coffee to brew.
Our waiter at the fancy restaurant wore a black bow tie and a white short apron
around his waist. He showed me how to use the decrumber to clean off the tablecloth. I accidentally put it in my pocket and took it home. Every night after dinner I decrumb the table before Mom serves us our dessert. We don’t get many crumbs because Mom only makes spaghetti. She’s really good at it, but I’m not sure if she knows how to make anything else.
This morning Mom kissed us good-bye, and Dad gave each of us airplane rides on his feet before they walked us to meet the school bus. Lulu said that she wanted twenty dollars in cash instead of an airplane ride. Mom told us that when we returned from school, the manny would be here to meet us. She had made India and Lulu change the sheets in the guest room. Lulu had wanted to short-sheet the bed, but India wouldn’t let her.
Mom left important telephone numbers by the telephone.
Dr. Little at the Tiny Tyke Health Office. Grandma. Pizza delivery.
The manny was going to stay with us! I had been dancing around the house since I found out, jumping off the couch and squawking like a chicken. Dad said that I was acting the same way that Belly does after she eats chocolate cake. He calls it OC. It stands for “out of control.”
We waved good-bye to Mom and Dad from the bus window. Our bus driver wears a pink scarf around her neck and has curly red hair. She reminds me of the waitress at the diner that Grandma and the canasta ladies took me to once for breakfast. She talks like her too. She calls me “darlin’.”
I put down the bus window and yelled, “Bring me a surprise!”
India blew kisses.
Lulu screeched, “No hugging or kissing in public.”
Just then Mom and Dad kissed.
The Manny Files book1 Page 2
