Lemons

by Melissa Savage

  “There it is!” Tobin exclaims. “The midtarsal break! I knew it! I knew it!” He jumps up and down. “Are you getting this on film?”

  “What the heck is a midtarsal break?” I ask, focusing the camera in the direction of the cast footprint.

  Charlie points to the middle of the cast. “It’s a flexible joint in the foot where humans have a stiff arch. It allows primates to have better balance and flexibility over rough terrain, like jungles and forests and such,” he says, brushing loose grass, sticks, and pebbles off the newly hardened foot statues.

  I think Tobin is going to have a stroke, he’s so happy about what we found. Correction: what I found.

  Me.

  Lemonade Liberty Witt.

  Assistant Bigfoot Detective.

  “Patterson, Gimlin, and Sky!” he exclaims. “I’m going to be the most famous discoverer since the Patterson-Gimlin film.”

  “Patterson, Gimlin, Sky, and Witt,” I correct him. “Don’t forget who actually found these things. You walked right by them. If I hadn’t stopped to suck the filling off a Twinkie wrapper, they would have gone unnoticed forever.”

  Tobin thinks about it.

  “All right,” he says. “Patterson, Gimlin, Sky, and Witt.”

  Charlie sighs and smiles down at us.

  “It was a good day, Bigfoot hunters,” he says. “We make a good team.”

  Tobin and I look at each other, and we smile too.

  With Expedition: Bluff Creek a stunning success, thanks to my amazing investigative skills, Tobin and I help Charlie set up a big display in the glass case near the register at Bigfoot Souvenirs and More that Monday morning. While Charlie works on setting up the footprints, we’re lying on our stomachs near the fireplace, coloring a giant map of Bluff Creek for the backdrop.

  The bell on the door rings. I don’t really even pay attention until I hear this weird noise come out of Tobin’s throat.

  “Good morning, boys!” Charlie calls from behind the counter. “Did you come to hear about our fantastic discovery out at Bluff Creek?”

  Tobin ducks his head lower and keeps coloring without saying anything. He’s got the greens: grass and forest. I’ve got the yellows and blues: sun and sky.

  “Yeah,” says one boy. “We heard about the footprints. Well, everyone has. It’s all anyone is talking about, really.”

  There are two of them. Probably the same age as us. One with a buzz cut and a Styx T-shirt, and the other with long bangs that he keeps swinging out of his eyes.

  The phone rings in the back room.

  “I’ll be just a minute,” Charlie tells them. “Maybe Tobin and Lem can start.”

  Charlie steps around the counter and into the back room.

  “Bigfoot Souvenirs and More. How can I help you today?” we hear him say into the receiver.

  The boys shuffle in our direction, stopping next to where we’re coloring. They look down at us with stupid smirks on their faces. The one with the buzz cut puts a Nike toe on my sun.

  “You’re on my sun,” I inform him.

  He doesn’t budge, still smirking down at me.

  “So, what’s your story?” He juts a chin in my direction.

  Tobin makes that noise in the back of his throat again.

  “Don’t you have any manners?” I ask the boy with the buzz cut, picking up his toe and moving it myself.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Manners,” I say again, slower this time. “You’re generally supposed to acknowledge someone with some kind of greeting before bombarding them with rude questions.”

  The boys look at each other and laugh.

  I know that laugh. I’ve heard it before.

  Tobin makes another weird sound and then starts scribbling harder. I just know he’s going to shred the paper straight through and ruin the whole thing.

  “Oh, excuse me, please, Miss Fancy Pants. How are you doing this fine morning, and by the way…what’s your story?” Buzz Cut asks while he curtsies, holding out a pretend skirt.

  Bangs laughs at him and swings his head right.

  “Better, but still needs work,” I tell him, leaning back and examining my swirling clouds.

  “She’s Tobin’s new girlfriend,” Bangs says.

  “Wrong!” Tobin snaps his head up.

  I sigh, set my crayon down, and look up at the two boys.

  “I just moved here from San Francisco,” I say. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  They laugh again.

  “Huh,” Buzz Cut says. “Seems to me like you’re spending a lot of time with Tobin here. In my book, that makes you his girlfriend.”

  “She is not!” Tobin shouts again.

  “In your book?” I ask. “So that’s just the one, then? One book you’ve read? Singular?” I smile.

  He glares at me, and I know that he knows that I know it was them on the other end of the green phone that day.

  “Do you kiss her on the lips while you sit on Charlie’s porch swing, Tobin?” Bangs asks, making kissing noises.

  Tobin pops up from the floor and glares at them with his fists clenched at his sides.

  Thumbs sticking straight up.

  “Yeah, well, you…you’re just…you and…why don’t you just go and shut up!” Tobin finally spits out.

  Brutal.

  I wonder if he knows that as far as comebacks go, he’s the worst. He needs a serious lesson. Lucky for him, he’s got me.

  “Listen here,” I start. “Why don’t you and Moron Number Two here go and—”

  “Kids.” Charlie comes out of the back room. “Is there a problem?”

  “No, sir.” Buzz Cut shoots an award-winning smile in Charlie’s direction.

  “Just ignore them, Tobin,” I whisper, grabbing the Midnight Blue from the box. “Who cares what they think, anyway?”

  Charlie is by Tobin’s side now.

  “Problem?” he asks again, putting a hand on Tobin’s shoulder.

  “Oh, not at all, sir.” Buzz Cut’s lips stretch wide over his teeth. “We just came in to see what all the talk around town is about. We heard you cast those prints. That right?”

  “You boys come on over this way, and I’ll show you what we found.” Charlie smiles. As he guides the two doofuses to the glass case, he looks over his shoulder at Tobin and winks.

  Tobin gets back down on the floor and starts coloring again, scribbling green furiously on the paper.

  “Hey.” I grab his arm. “Stop. What are you doing? You’re going to rip it.”

  “They make me so mad,” he hisses at me. Then he stops coloring and takes his glasses off and wipes at his eyes.

  “Those two idiots?” I ask, pointing up at the counter. “Don’t give them the time of day. They just want to get a rise out of you. If you show them you don’t care, they’ll leave you alone.”

  “You don’t understand,” he tells me.

  “Well, one thing I can say for sure is that you’re the absolute worst at comebacks in the history of the world. I mean really bad,” I say, holding my nose. “Like stink-o-rino.”

  He smiles then and even laughs a little.

  “I just get so flustered that I can’t get the words in my head to come out of my mouth.”

  “Well, good thing you have me to coach you. I’ll give you some real good zingers too. I’m the comeback queen in the city.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Sure.” I shrug. “You know they’re really just jealous, right?”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “That’s not it.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Of what?”

  “Not everyone makes founder and president of their own company by the fifth grade,” I say.

  Tobin thinks hard about that.

  Then I see the corners of his mouth curl up in a smile.

  It’s already July.

  It’s been thirty-one days.

  Thirty-one whole days since I first walked up Charlie’s porch steps.

  My
room looks a lot different than it did that first day. A lot less old-man study and a lot more almost-eleven-year-old-girl bedroom. Every week, Charlie brings home something new for my room that he orders from the Sears catalog. Last week, he surprised me with a fluffy rainbow comforter.

  Just like the one I have at home.

  That social worker who drove me here hasn’t come back yet, but she’s called three times. Once to talk to me and twice to talk to Charlie. I don’t know what she talked to Charlie about because he used the phone in his bedroom to talk to her. But with me she just talked about the weather and asked lots of questions about Willow Creek. She told me she’d be up to see me later this month and asked if I wanted her to bring me anything from San Francisco. I told her an order of Mr. Chin’s crispy fried egg rolls. She just laughed.

  I guess she thought I was kidding.

  On Monday morning, after Charlie leaves for work, Tobin and I head to the Bigfoot Headquarters. We’ve been getting busier and busier since word spread about our find in Bluff Creek. And Tobin is even getting used to me changing things.

  Kind of.

  He unlocks the side door of the garage, and we can see before he even pulls the string on the single lightbulb that there are messages blinking on the answering machine.

  Blink. Blink. Blink.

  “There are three messages.” Tobin looks at me.

  “Play them,” I say, leaning an elbow on the desk to listen.

  He pushes the Play button.

  Beeeeeeeep.

  “Hello, my favorite Bigfoot hunters. This is Mrs. Dickerson. I have a sighting to report again this morning. This time, I’m sure I saw one crossing the road in front of my car at dusk last night right here on Brannan Mountain Road. I think you should come out as soon as you get this message to see if you can cast for footprints. And I just took a pan of fudge cookies out of the oven for you.”

  Beeeeeeeep.

  “Tobin and Lemonade sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes Baby in—”

  Tobin pushes Stop, and his cheeks are redder than the Venetian Red in the Crayola box that we used for the campfire on our Bluff Creek map.

  “Just ignore them,” I remind him. “There’s one more message.” I point to the blinking light.

  He fast-forwards.

  Beeeeeeeep.

  “Hello? Hello? Is there someone there? Oh, ah, my name is Professor Jerrod Malcolm. I teach anatomy and anthropology at Idaho State University. I understand you have some plaster casts from Bluff Creek? I’ve been told they may include a midtarsal break? I’m wondering if I can come down and examine them. Please call me back at—”

  Tobin looks up again, this time with wide eyes, and I bet if I could see myself in a mirror right this second, mine would be saucers too.

  Professor Malcolm meets us at Bigfoot Souvenirs and More on that very next Saturday. I wear a sundress and the white sandals with the gold buckles on the heels that Mama got me from Hanson’s Shoes in the city. I attach my handmade badge with the clumped-up Elmer’s to the front of my dress and look in the mirror above the bathroom sink to make sure it’s straight.

  LEMONADE LIBERTY WITT

  Assistant Bigfoot Detective

  Tobin shows up at breakfast wearing the same stupid thing he always does. Khaki shorts and a red T-shirt and his safari hat. He looks at me funny when he sees my dress.

  “What’s with the dress?”

  “I want to make a good impression. Couldn’t you have dressed up some?” I ask.

  “We’re not going to church.”

  “Still, it’s kind of a big deal, don’t you think?”

  “He’s coming to look at Bigfoot prints. What does he care about what I’m wearing?” Tobin says.

  Later that morning at Bigfoot Souvenirs and More, the bell on the door dings and a tall man with a briefcase pushes it open and peeks inside.

  “Good morning!” Charlie calls out.

  “Good morning to you all!” Professor Malcolm smiles, closing the door behind him.

  He has short blond hair and a short blond beard to match, and he’s wearing a red T-shirt and khaki shorts. I glance over at Tobin, and he’s giving me the biggest I-told-you-so look you can imagine.

  “Welcome! Welcome!” Charlie calls out. “Please, join us over here.”

  Charlie has all the Bigfoot plaster casts lined up on the hearth of the stone fireplace in the center of the room. We all grab an overstuffed pillow on the floor and sit in a circle.

  “Here they are.” Charlie motions toward the footprints.

  “I see,” Professor Malcolm says, pulling a magnifying glass from his back pocket. “They’re amazing.”

  Tobin watches Professor Malcolm with the biggest, goofiest smile on his face that I’ve ever seen.

  “See the midtarsal break here?” Tobin points.

  “Yes, I see it, Tobin.” Professor Malcolm eyeballs it closer. “It’s magnificent. Just magnificent.”

  This time I’m beaming too.

  “I found them,” I tell him, pointing to myself. “Me, I’m the one.”

  “Well, she may have seen them first, but Charlie and I cast them. I’m actually the founder and president of Bigfoot Detectives Inc. here in Willow Creek. This is Lemonade, my assistant,” Tobin clarifies, pulling his crumpled business card from his front pocket. “My card.”

  “Yeah, but I found them,” I tell Tobin.

  “Yeah, but you wouldn’t have found them if I hadn’t hired you on as an employee,” Tobin says.

  “Still, it was me—” I start.

  Professor Malcolm smiles at Charlie.

  “Well, I think you’ve both come upon an amazing discovery here. Something that may offer more proof to the rest of the world that Bigfoot actually exists. It seems to me that you two make a great team.”

  Tobin and I look at each other.

  “Yes, sir,” I tell him. “We do.”

  “May I take one of these with me for further examination? I can return it to you after my testing is complete.”

  “Of course,” Charlie tells him. “Please do. We are just so excited to have you here to be a part of our find.”

  “Thank you very much,” Professor Malcolm says, inspecting the store. “You have quite a place here.”

  “Thank you again.” Charlie smiles.

  “I see your sign there. Take a story and leave a story. Who wants to start and let me know how exactly you all came to acquire these amazing prints?”

  “I can,” I tell him, standing up and straightening the front of my dress. I clear my throat and take a deep breath.

  “It all started with a Twinkie—” I say.

  Tobin hits his forehead with his hand and shakes his head at me.

  I yawn a long yawn.

  “I say we call it a day,” I tell Tobin with my chin in my hand.

  He looks at me over his glasses. He’s sitting on the riding lawn mower, shuffling through his yellow legal pad. I’m at the desk, waiting for the phone to ring and rereading the four letters I’ve gotten from San Francisco so far.

  One from Erika Vass, one from Lisa S., and two from Miss Cotton. Miss Cotton even sent me some pictures that she took of us together when I was staying with her. I stuck them to the wall above my bed with Scotch tape.

  There’s one of us planting vegetables on her rooftop garden, one of us eating Mr. Chin’s fried egg rolls, and one of just her smiling into the camera. She reminds me of Mama, except she’s younger and her hair is straight, not curly, and brown, not red. But she’s pretty like Mama even without lipstick or eye shadow or plucking her eyebrows into skinny lines like some women do. Mama and Miss Cotton wore Birkenstocks instead of high heels and flowy cotton skirts instead of tight ones, and they wore their long hair down their backs instead of wrapping it up in a fancy knot at the back of their necks. But the biggest reason she reminds me of Mama is her smile. It’s the brightest smile you’ve ever seen. She grins with her whole face, so big that her lips
almost disappear because all her front teeth are showing. It was that smile that made me love her the minute I walked into her fourth-grade classroom. And it’s that smile that makes her most like Mama.

  Today is a slow and boring rainy Thursday at the Bigfoot Detectives Headquarters, without one single sighting to investigate.

  “Not one call today,” I say. “Not even Mrs. Dickerson with a pan of cookies.” I yawn again. “Must be the rain. Let’s watch television or something.”

  “Okay,” Tobin says. “We have leftover chocolate cake in the fridge. Want to go to my house?”

  It’s the very first time Tobin has ever invited me over to his house. Since his mom is always working, we usually just stay at Charlie’s house or hang out at the store.

  “Sure.” I shrug. “You have ice cream, too?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “No vanilla, though, only strawberry. My mom only ever buys strawberry, even though vanilla goes best with chocolate cake. I tell her that, but she never buys it.”

  “Okay by me, I eat all kinds,” I reassure him.

  After locking up the Bigfoot Headquarters, we head across the street to Tobin’s house. It’s a lot like Charlie’s. It has a front porch wrapped all around too, except their house is green with white trim, instead of white with yellow trim.

  Inside, it smells sweet, like chocolate and cinnamon, and also like flowery Lysol and a little bit of bleach. It’s very clean and orderly, with no dishes in the sink, and even the mail is tucked neatly in a basket, instead of in a messy pile on the counter like it is at Charlie’s.

  “Want to see my room?” Tobin asks.

  I shrug.

  “Sure,” I say.

  He leads me up the long flight of steps, which is just past the kitchen. When we reach the top step, I see a long hall with three doors. The first door is the bathroom. There is purple flowered wallpaper covering the walls and one big fluffy yellow rug on the floor.

  “That’s my mom’s room,” Tobin says, pointing to the next door down the hall.