Was forty-five a funny number? She wasn’t sure. She could hear Jerry saying the lines and making it sound funny, but it would probably sound stupid in her voice. That was another hard thing about comedy—you had to figure out what your comic identity was, who you were going to be when you stood up in front of the audience. But what was funny about her life, except her hairdo?
Of course, Tina Fey said you should make fun of yourself before somebody else had a chance to, so maybe she should work up some Big Bird jokes. The problem was, that still stung too much to seem funny.
“I’m hungry,” she said finally, bouncing in her seat. “Can we get out the peanut butter?”
Ben glanced in the rearview mirror. “Okay with you to stop for a few minutes, Oliver?”
Izzy looked into the back seat. Oliver seemed a little calmer than he had before.
“A few minutes,” he agreed.
They were on a country road with wide shoulders, so it was easy for Ben to find a place to pull off and stop. “Let’s get out to eat,” he said. “I need to stand up and walk around a little.”
Oliver handed the bag of food out to Ben and Izzy but stayed in the back seat. “I’m good here,” he said.
Leaning against the car, Ben used his pocket-knife to spread the peanut butter on three slices of bread. He handed Izzy and Oliver their sandwiches, then licked the knife clean.
“Be careful!” Izzy said. “You’ll cut your tongue off! And also, ick, that’s the only knife we have, and you just got your germs all over it.”
“Sorry, Girl Scout. Did you want to go wash it off in the stream?” Ben asked.
“Okay, I will. Where’s there a stream?”
“I think we passed one about half an hour ago. Have a nice hike.” He folded his sandwich in half and stuck the entire thing in his mouth.
Izzy made a face. “If you choke on that, I’m not giving you the Heimlich.”
It took Ben a minute to swallow the wad of bread in his mouth, but then he said, “If you gave me the Heimlich, Dizzy, it would make me choke.”
“How come you two argue so much?” Oliver yelled out the window.
“Because we’re different,” Ben said.
“Because he’s annoying,” Izzy said.
“I don’t think you’re that different,” Oliver said. “And you’re both kind of annoying the way you pick on each other all the time. Couldn’t you try to get along better?”
Izzy could feel her ears get hot, and she didn’t look at Ben.
But Ben looked in the window at Oliver. “It bothers you, doesn’t it?”
Oliver nodded. “All that arguing makes my stomach hurt. It would be easier if we were all…friends.”
“Okay,” Ben said. “For you, Captain Hook, I’ll do my best.”
“Okay,” Oliver said seriously as he peeled a banana.
“Whatever,” Izzy said. She finished off the water from her bottle.
“You drank all your water already?” Ben said.
“Well, I didn’t have a big Coke back there like you did.” Izzy would have said something about how selfish it was to buy a soda for yourself without getting one for anybody else, but she glanced at Oliver and kept her mouth shut.
Ben didn’t argue either. “Right,” he said. “I forgot that.”
They stood at the side of the road for another ten minutes, the crunch of potato chips the only sound. It was going to be a long, silent car ride, Izzy thought, if she had to be nice to Ben the whole way.
“So, Oliver,” Ben said, once they were back on the road, “has Liam been okay lately? He hasn’t been calling you dumb names or anything, has he?”
“Not as much,” Oliver said. “He mostly just ignores me, which I don’t mind. I mean, most of the kids in my class ignore me.”
“Not Suzanne, though,” Izzy said. “She likes you.”
“Who’s Suzanne?” Ben asked, glancing at Oliver in the mirror. “You didn’t tell me about her.”
Izzy was glad she knew at least one thing Ben didn’t.
“She’s just this girl in my class,” Oliver said. “She’s okay.”
“She was sitting and waiting with Oliver when I picked him up after school yesterday,” Izzy explained. “I thought she might have a little crush on him.”
Oliver groaned. “No. You want to know why Suzanne hangs out with me? Because her older sister died last year, and nobody wants to be friends with her now either.”
“What?” Izzy turned sideways in her seat. “Her sister died? How?”
Oliver shrugged. “I don’t know. Some kind of cancer. She doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“That’s awful,” Izzy said.
“Yeah, and now her parents argue all the time and might even get a divorce. So her life sucks almost as bad as mine.”
“But that’s no reason for the other kids not to be friends with you guys,” Ben said.
“They think it is. They think death is like the flu, and they don’t want to catch it.”
Ben nodded. “Kids can be really mean to each other.”
“Were your friends mean to you when your mom left?” Oliver asked him.
Izzy looked over at Ben and instantly wished she hadn’t. The color drained out of his face, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. His spark had disappeared. The brat had left the building.
The answer to Oliver’s question was obviously a painful one, and Izzy tried desperately to think of something funny to say to save them all from whatever memories were attacking Ben.
But suddenly there was something more important to worry about. “What the hell is that?” Ben said, staring out the windshield.
“We’re on fire!” Oliver yelled.
Smoke seemed to be belching out from under the hood of the Chevy. “Pull over! Pull over!” Izzy screamed.
Ben steered the car off the road as soon as he could find a spot to do it. “Get out, both of you!” he said. “In case it blows up!”
They jumped out of the car and ran down into a gully. Standing beneath some pine trees, they watched the smoke drift out from under the hood. It didn’t seem to be getting any worse, but it wasn’t stopping either. After a few minutes, Ben walked back and slowly lifted the hood.
“Be careful!” Izzy shouted.
“I don’t think this is smoke,” Ben said. “It doesn’t smell like smoke.”
Izzy and Oliver came a little closer. “Well, whatever it is, we can’t drive it that way,” Izzy said.
Ben kicked the bumper. “Crap.”
Oliver’s face melted. “We have to fix it,” he said. “We have to find my dad.”
“I know,” Ben said, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ve got my phone. I’ll find a place to get it fixed.” He fished the phone out of his back pocket and turned it on.
“God, there are about a hundred missed calls and voice mails from my dad on here. And a few from Dizzy’s mom too.”
“Don’t listen to them now,” Izzy said.
“Don’t intend to,” Ben said. In a minute or two, he had located the nearest auto repair shop and called.
Izzy couldn’t understand much from only listening to Ben’s side of the conversation. He described what the smoke looked like and where he thought it might be coming from, and then he just listened for a long time. Izzy paced back and forth, careful not to look at Oliver.
“Okay. Thanks a lot,” Ben said finally. He hung up and turned the phone off again.
“Well?” Izzy asked. “What’s happening?”
“He says it’s probably the antifreeze leaking out—this is vapor, not smoke. I guess it happens with these old Malibus because of the way they’re designed.” He pointed to something under the hood. “See, the intake manifold—”
“Just tell me what we’re supposed to do now,” Izzy said. “Can we fix it?”
“Well, we can’t, but the guy’s coming to tow us in.”
“Tow us?”
“Well, what did you think, Dizzy? That
we could push the car to the next town?”
Ben and Izzy realized at the same time that they were raising their voices with each other again. They both turned guiltily to look at Oliver. The boy stared silently at Ben’s face, probably looking for some scrap of hope or good news.
“I’m sorry, Oliver,” Ben said, “but this shouldn’t take too long. A couple of hours probably.”
“Do we have enough money to pay for it?” Izzy was almost afraid to ask.
“I don’t know,” Ben said.
“We shouldn’t have had the pancakes,” Izzy said.
Ben looked at Oliver. “Don’t worry, Captain Hook. We’ll figure it out.”
“Are you okay, Oliver?” Izzy asked.
“Stop asking me that!” He backed away from them until he was under the trees again, then he sat down, pulled up his legs, and let his head fall heavily onto his bony knees.
Twenty-five minutes later they were sitting in the cab of Ellis Canty’s tow truck, dragging the Malibu behind them. Izzy had called him Mr. Canty, and he’d corrected her.
“Nobody calls me Mister,” he said. “Call me Ellis, unless you’re gonna call me somethin’ worse!” He had a laugh like a kindly donkey’s.
Izzy couldn’t stop staring at the man’s greasy hands on the steering wheel. She’d never seen such dirty fingernails in her life. Still, she thought Ellis was okay. She’d noticed the way he had blinked twice as he took in her colorful hairdo, but then he’d smiled without commenting on it one way or the other.
“Aren’t you guys a little young to be taking a road trip all by yourselves?” Ellis asked.
“I’m eighteen,” Ben said before either of the others could speak.
Ellis looked over at him. “Huh. I would have said a little younger, but I can see it now. This your brother and sister?”
“Yeah,” Ben said, and no one contradicted him.
Oliver was stuffed between Izzy and Ben on the seat, and she could feel how tense he was. He sat there like a little robot, stiff as steel, staring out the front window. She tried to find his hand with hers, but when she touched him, his fingers were ice cold, and he pulled away from her. Obviously he intended to remain frozen.
“I’m a fan of these old Malibus myself. I don’t usually see kids driving them, though,” Ellis said once they were back at the shop and his head was under the hood of the car.
“It’s my uncle’s car,” Ben said. “How long will it take to fix it?”
“Well, it’s a coolant leak, like I figured,” Ellis said.
“Is that expensive?” Izzy asked.
“Don’t worry,” Ellis said. “I won’t overcharge you.”
Ben took his wallet out. “The thing is, we’ve only got fifty-three bucks on us.”
“Plus my four dollars,” Izzy reminded him.
“And my two,” Oliver said.
“So, fifty-nine, I guess,” Ben said.
“No credit cards?” Ellis asked.
Ben shook his head.
Ellis seemed to consider this. “Huh. Well, the job would come in at a little more than that, but I’ll make you a deal. My wife says if I don’t finish mowing that field today, she’s gonna make me go to my niece’s piano recital with her on my one day off.” He pointed out the window to the acreage behind the shop, where a lawnmower stood stalled between foot-high weeds and the smooth green carpet he’d already cut.
“See, we live right over there,” he said, pointing to a small house at the edge of the field. “So my wife looks out the window, and it bugs her. She’s the kind of person likes everything real neat and clean.”
Izzy wondered how anybody who liked things clean could possibly be married to Ellis Canty, who was wiping his filthy fingers on the T-shirt that stretched tightly over his belly.
“I woulda finished the job today if you hadn’t called—”
Ben interrupted him. “I’ll cut the grass. It won’t even take me that long.”
Ellis nodded. “Fifty dollars, you cut the grass, and we’re even. That’ll leave you a few bucks to get where you’re going. Which is where, by the way?”
“We’re finding my dad,” Oliver said. “Way on the other side of New York.”
“Our dad…he’s, umm…having car trouble too,” Ben said, handing Ellis the fifty dollars.
“Huh. I guess your family’s having a rough day,” Ellis said. “The mower’s got plenty of gas in it. You gotta pull hard to get it started.”
“Okay. They can hang around in here, can’t they?” Ben asked.
“Sure. Sure. There’s a soda machine in the office if you’re thirsty,” Ellis said.
Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out some change, which he handed to Izzy. “Here. Do you guys mind sharing a drink?”
Izzy shook her head.
“Thanks, Ben,” Oliver said quietly. Izzy thought she ought to thank him too, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Some stubbornness wouldn’t let the words come out.
Ellis got right to work on the car. Izzy and Oliver sat in the office, drinking their soda and staring out the window as Ben pushed the mower back and forth through the field. Before long he took off his hoodie and left it behind on the mowed grass.
“I like Ben,” Oliver said.
“I know you do.”
“He’s not really a scorpion. He just pretends to be.”
Izzy had to admit Ben was not the terrible person her friends thought he was. He wasn’t as bad as she’d thought at first either. She didn’t know why he was willing to do so much to help Oliver, but day after day he kept doing it, and even though Izzy felt a little jealous of how much her cousin liked him, she was starting to understand it too.
She wondered if it was the same with Dr. Gustino. He seemed kind of crabby and unhappy to Izzy, but maybe that was just what you saw first. Maybe her mom had spent enough time with him to see the good parts too.
They watched Ben work, as if by watching they could add their energy to his, help push the mower a little bit faster. But as their eyes followed the mower, it suddenly stopped moving, and Ben leaped away from it, his arms thrown wide. For a minute Izzy was reminded of the mime who’d followed them on the street in Coolidge, the way he exaggerated his movements, trying to be funny. But she knew immediately this was no joke. Even from this distance she could see the look of shock on Ben’s face. He slapped at his neck and his arms, and then he started to run, tearing off his T-shirt and throwing it aside as if it were on fire.
“Ellis! Come here! There’s something wrong!” Izzy yelled.
The man stuck his head into the office and saw immediately what was going on outside the window.
“Dammit! Ground hornets!” Ellis banged out the back door and ran toward Ben, who was headed right for him. “Drop trou! Get your clothes off!” Ellis yelled.
Izzy and Oliver stood at the window, transfixed by the picture of Ellis swatting at bees and helping Ben rip off his shoes and jeans. Once Ben was down to boxer shorts, Ellis pulled him inside, a few hornets coming through the door with them. Ellis clapped his big hands around the last few invaders, and they dropped to the floor of the shop.
“I’m so sorry, son,” Ellis said as he looked Ben over. “You’re not allergic, are you?”
Ben held his arms away from his body and stood motionless, stunned. “What? No, I don’t think so. What were those things?”
“Ground hornets. Some people call ’em yellow jackets. You musta run over a nest with the mower. I thought I got rid of ’em last year, but I guess they came back. Hurts, don’t it?”
Ben grimaced. “Yeah. I got stung about a million times.”
“Well, twenty, anyway,” Ellis said, taking Ben gently by the arm. “I got a shower back in here. You need to wash the stings real good with soap to get out as much of the venom as you can. Then we’ll ice ’em down.”
Venom? Izzy thought only snakes had venom. Neither she nor Oliver could stop staring at Ben, who stumbled a little as Ellis led him away. Already ther
e were red welts rising on his arms and back. For a minute Izzy thought she might cry, but when she looked at Oliver and saw that he already was crying, she swallowed back her own tears.
“He’ll be okay,” she said, hoping it was true. “It’s just bee stings. He’s not allergic.” Did they know that for sure?
Oliver’s swollen eyes looked into hers. “But he’s hurt. How’s he going to drive? And the car’s not even fixed. And—”
“I’m just gonna stand here in the doorway, kid,” Ellis yelled into the shower room, “in case you have trouble breathing or anything. If you feel weird, call out, hear me?”
Oliver’s dam burst, and he collapsed onto the oily concrete floor, sobbing.
“I’m fine!” Ben called from the shower. “Tell Oliver I’m fine.”
Izzy didn’t bother to repeat the message. Just saying it wouldn’t make it true anyway. She got Ben’s duffel bag out of the trunk of the car and found a T-shirt for him, but he hadn’t brought another pair of jeans.
While Ben dried off, Ellis ran up to his house and got a bag of frozen vegetables and a pair of his jeans for Ben to wear. The pants were miles too big for him, so Ellis ran a piece of rope through the belt loops to hold them up. Then he darted out the door and scooped up Ben’s sneakers, checking first to make sure there were no hornets hiding inside, and the cell phone that had gone flying out of Ben’s pocket. “I’ll get the rest of your clothes later, after the hive settles down,” he said.
Oliver stood looking out the window, tear trails on his face. “The sun’s going down,” he said mournfully.
Ben sat on a folding chair, holding the bag of peas on his neck, where several of the worst bites were, right in the middle of his howling-wolf tattoo. “Is the car done?” he asked Ellis.
Someone Else's Shoes Page 13
