My Life in Dioramas

by Tara Altebrando

  “Hi, Mr. Marino!” Naveen waved.

  When my dad waved back he accidently hit my mother’s wind chimes and they sang, loudly. My dad covered his ears and laughed.

  At dinner, we talked about how we were going to spend the open houses, 12–2 both days. On Saturday, Mom wanted to go horseback riding. Dad wanted to find someplace to take archery lessons. On Sunday the plan was to go see my grandparents.

  “Why can’t we just go to a movie? Maybe a Chinese buffet? Or both?” I asked.

  “Because we’re trying to broaden our horizons,” my mother said.

  “We are?” I asked.

  “We are.” She was making plates of leftovers. Chicken and rice. Some kind of brown beef dish. I guessed it was good she wasn’t going to miss the chicken I’d taken, or the eggs.

  “Anyway,” she said. “We’ll do some research, figure it out. Maybe we can do both.”

  “Isn’t that stuff expensive?” If they weren’t going to think about this stuff, someone had to.

  My mom froze and looked at my dad. He said, “Like your mom said, we’ll do some research.”

  “In the meantime,” my mother said. “You’ve made quite a mess downstairs. There are tiny pieces of paper and fluff everywhere. You need to tidy up all that craft stuff before Saturday.”

  After dinner, when tasked with taking the trash out, I went down into the woods to check on the progress of my Tupperware of Stink. I opened the composting bin and didn’t smell much, so I reached for the container and unsnapped the red lid. I sniffed the air then regretted it. Imagine a zombie chicken that threw up a milk shake.

  I closed the lid again and put the container back in the composting bin and turned to head inside when I heard a meowing sound. I tried to locate it and saw one of Pants’s kittens stuck on the other side of the stream.

  “It’s okay, cutie.” I went to the nearest footbridge and bent down. “Come on over.”

  It took her a while but she came to me and I lifted her back over to Big Red.

  16.

  “You’re up early,” I said, when I came into the kitchen to find my dad pouring himself a cup of coffee Thursday morning.

  “You, my dear”—he yawned—“are quite mistaken.”

  He looked pretty ragged.

  “You never went to bed?”

  “Ding, ding, ding.” He used a finger to tap the air three times.

  “Why? What happened?”

  “This song I’m working on. I can’t get it out of my head. I needed to get some stuff down.”

  “What kind of song is it?” I asked.

  If my dad was suddenly going to start trying to play in a rock band again, I thought now might be a good time to crawl up into a ball and hide in a faraway corner of some faraway barn.

  “Just music, really. I don’t know. I’m going to send it on to Shay. See if he can find a home for it.”

  “That sounds exciting.” I poured myself some cereal.

  “Want to sit outside with me for a few?”

  “I would, but the bees always go for my cereal.”

  “Suit yourself.” He opened the door to the back porch, put his sunglasses on, and stepped out.

  I sat at the kitchen table and looked out the window at him. We used to pretend sometimes that that window between the kitchen and the porch was for a short order cook or fast-food drive-in.

  There was a stinkbug on the window, trying to get out and failing miserably. Their numbers seemed to be dropping off, at least. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen one.

  I finished my breakfast, said bye to my dad, and headed out. On the bus, Stella asked for my party RSVP.

  I snorted. “I already told you I’m coming.”

  The party was a little over a week away so I needed to start thinking of a present to get her.

  “I know, but I need the form back,” Stella said. “With your song choices.”

  “Can’t I just decide that day? It’s not like I’m going to practice.”

  “You’re not?”

  I shook my head. “It’s karaoke, Stella. It’s not like I’m going to get discovered.”

  “You might! Like by, you know, a boy.”

  I laughed. “Let it go, Stella!”

  “I just think you could put a little effort in.”

  “All right, Stella. I’ll fill out the form tonight. Scout’s honor.”

  Megan was waiting just outside the bus for Stella when we got off. She held out an envelope and said, “I may have to leave early, but I’m coming.”

  “Great!” Stella said. “Did you pick songs?”

  “I did. I don’t know why I never thought of having a karaoke party but it’s an awesome idea.”

  “Thanks,” Stella said.

  “I actually don’t remember going to any of your birthday parties, Megan,” I said. I turned to Stella. “Do you, Stella?”

  “No,” Stella said. “But whatever. Thanks for RSVP’ing, Megan.”

  At dance class that afternoon, we went right back to learning the routine and I liked how it all was coming together so fast. What I didn’t like was how Stella kept drifting off to a corner during breaks and doing other steps while staring at herself in the mirror. I imagined they were from her solo and I had to admit I was sort of mad about it.

  “You’re distracting everybody,” I said at one point.

  “I am not,” she said.

  “Fine. Whatever.”

  I wasn’t lying. I was so distracted by the fact that she was working on her solo during troupe that I kept missing steps and once I even bumped right into Madison.

  “Am I the only one who sees what she’s doing?” I asked Madison, who shrugged and said, “It’s annoying but whatever.”

  During a quick water break, Miss Emma said, “I’m hearing a lot of side chatter, ladies. What’s going on?”

  I said, “Stella’s distracting everyone by sneaking off to practice her solo.”

  Stella huffed. “Kate might be moving. And I thought you should know. So you don’t have to redo the whole troupe routine if it happens.”

  Miss Emma looked at me, her eyes losing some of their sheen. Then she turned to the group and said, “Take it from the top. Excuse us for a minute.”

  She ushered me into the changing room. “Kate? Is it true?”

  And there was something in her tone of voice, something in the sad concern in her eyes that just got to me.

  I burst into tears.

  “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She pulled me into a hug with her long, slender arms. “It’ll be okay. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “They put the house up for sale, it’s true. I mean, who knows how long it’ll take but yeah. I don’t even know if I’ll be here three weeks from now let alone in the lead-up to the competition.”

  “But they let you sign up, right?”

  I nodded.

  I was a horrible person.

  “This is what we’re going to do.” Miss Emma pulled out of the hug and held me by the shoulders. “Let’s just keep on keeping on with the rehearsals, and we’ll see what happens. Sometimes these things take a while. They wouldn’t have let you sign up otherwise! But you really do have to promise to keep me updated. What do you say? Stay focused? Hope for the best?”

  It sounded so simple.

  Hope for the best!

  “Okay.” I nodded.

  We went back to dancing. The song was just hitting the second chorus so I fell into line and nailed a knee-spin move like I’d never nailed it before.

  Stella and I didn’t speak to each other—only to my mother—on the way home, but I don’t think my mom even noticed.

  At home I went straight down to the arts room and gathered up the Barbie dolls and threw them out. I hadn’t even wanted the dolls—only the clothes—so it was sort of a pointless gesture but somehow it felt good anyway.

  There was a text from Stella on my phone.

  Are you mad at me?

  I lay there o
n my bed for a while, thinking about how much my life stank and how awesome Stella’s life was.

  Solo!

  Karaoke thirteenth birthday!

  Horse camp!

  She had to ask?

  It felt good, in a way, that Miss Emma knew. But I didn’t feel like letting Stella off the hook. Sometimes I felt like that was all anybody ever did with Stella. Me included.

  It hadn’t been up to her to tell!

  I wrote back:

  Yes.

  Then wrote a follow-up that said:

  Yes, I am.

  I figured that would be the end of it, but then maybe ten minutes later my phone buzzed. Her text said:

  Fine. Whatever. I am, too.

  17.

  Megan was in my seat on the bus the next morning. But some guardian angel must have been looking down on me because the seat beside Naveen was empty. Lou must have been home sick. I slid in next to Naveen, hoping no one would really notice.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey,” he said. “Everything okay? Because this is an extreme breach of bus protocol.”

  “Stella told our dance instructor that I might be moving.”

  “So you’re mad at her.”

  “Very. I mean, now everyone at dance class knows.”

  Naveen sighed. “I hate to be the one to point this out, but there is a FOR SALE sign in front of Big Red. It’s not exactly a secret.”

  Of course that was true. I knew Megan had seen it. We just didn’t live on a particularly busy street, so I still figured not that many people knew.

  “Anyway, even if people know you’re moving,” Naveen said, “they don’t know why. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

  I nodded. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

  “Speaking of which, I have materials for you.”

  I tilted my head. “Dead rodent? Rotting food?”

  He shook his head. “For your dioramas, Kate.”

  “Ohhhh,” I said.

  “I can drop it off later at Big Red?”

  “Awesome.”

  It was easier to avoid Stella all day than I’d imagined and she wasn’t on the bus on the way home. I figured her mom was picking her up to take her to a private session with Miss Emma. Lou, however, was on the bus. So maybe he’d just missed it this morning. I slid into my usual seat alone and was as surprised as anybody when Megan slid into the seat next to me and locked eyes with me.

  “What?” I said. She looked like she had something on her mind.

  “I heard your parents are selling the house because they’re basically broke.”

  I must have turned as red as Big Red. “Stella told you that?”

  “No.” Megan shrugged a shoulder. “I heard my parents talking.”

  I wasn’t sure which was worse, Stella having told her or us being the talk of the town. I said, “Next time tell them it’s none of their business.”

  “It’s what they do.”

  “What? Gossip?”

  She rolled her eyes. “They’re in real estate.”

  “Well, good for them.”

  I pushed past her and got off at Big Red, wanting to kick the FOR SALE sign, or maybe throw it into the woods.

  I dropped my backpack on the kitchen table and said hi to my dad, who had headphones on at the desk in the loft and told me Mom was out running errands.

  “Naveen’s dropping by with some stuff for me,” I said, and he gave me a thumbs-up.

  I went back out to the porch and imagined the bus stopping at Naveen’s, and him getting off, and going inside to say hi to his mom, then grabbing a box or bag or filling up his backpack. I sat on one of the chairs on the front porch—which was not a rocking chair of yesteryear—and counted cars while I waited for him. I thought maybe eight cars would pass by before he arrived.

  His bike came tearing into the driveway after the sixth car passed.

  “So whatcha got?” I stood up.

  “Lots of good stuff.” He had a shopping bag dangling from his handlebars. “At least I think it’s good stuff. Take a look.”

  He held the bag out and we sat on the front porch looking through random pieces of colored foam and fabric and foils and notecards and ribbons and wrapping paper and more. “This is great stuff,” I said. “Where did you get it?”

  “My mom did a big purge of the garage a few days ago but the trash hadn’t been collected, so I raided her bags last night.”

  “Thanks so much, Naveen.” There was a small wire pine tree, a tiny disco ball.

  “Oh.” He reached for the bag as I started putting stuff back in. “This is the best part.”

  He peered in and moved stuff around and came out with a piece of plastic shaped like a rounded bathtub.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “What is it? I mean, what was it?”

  “I think it came on a butter dish or something? Part of the packaging?”

  “It’s perfect.” I studied its clear curves. “I’ll cover it in masking tape and build the shower rod out of wire, and look!” I dug through the bag and pulled out a square piece of fabric.

  “Shower curtain!” Naveen said.

  “Exactly! Then I just need to figure out the feet.”

  Naveen headed toward his bike. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’m behind on homework.”

  I laughed. “It’s Friday, Naveen.”

  “I know, I know. But I don’t want to have to do it this weekend.” He pushed his bike up toward the road. “Good luck this weekend. With everything!”

  “Thanks!”

  He took off down the road and I sat there for a while, counting more cars. Wondering where my mom was, which car number would be hers. After eight more cars passed and she still wasn’t home I went to the kitchen and found the ivory-colored masking tape in the junk drawer.

  It seemed silly at first to be making a diorama of myself in a bathtub, but after a while it didn’t feel that way at all.

  18.

  On Saturday morning, when no one was paying attention, I got a few snack-size Ziplocs out of the pantry and shoved them in my jeans pocket. Then, during another free moment when my mom was in the shower and my dad was in their room sweeping up flies, I took a fork and steak knife out of the cutlery drawer and went out to the composting bin and started slicing up my stink. I’d brought down a handkerchief to tie around my face, and it at least stifled the smell of the chicken zombie rot enough that I didn’t feel like I was going to throw up.

  I put small pieces of totally gross rotting chicken in each of three bags, then threw the rest into the woods and washed the container out in the stream with apologies to Mother Nature. I’d have to get the bags up into position at the last possible moment and somehow retrieve them after the open house so the house didn’t stink all night. It wasn’t going to be easy. I had to stay on my toes, looking for any and all opportunities. For the time being, I put the snack bags under a piece of wood in the woodpile under the back porch.

  “Where are we even going today?” I asked my mother in the kitchen.

  “Horseback riding,” she said. “Long pants and boots. And bring a hat.”

  Excellent.

  When it was time to go, I stepped out onto the porch and smacked my head and said, “Forgot my hat.” Bernie was tying a new yellow balloon to the FOR SALE sign, adding a dangling OPEN HOUSE TODAY to two hooks on it.

  So I ran inside and downstairs to get the bags, and upstairs to hide the goods—one on top of the bathroom wall, then another on the wall of the closet, and another on the wall of my parents’ room. I grabbed my hat, then went back down, all while Bernie was tying that balloon.

  “Good to go.” I stepped back out onto the porch and put my hat on. “Good luck!” I said as Bernie went inside.

  My horse was black and white and named Oreo, a name I approved of. As we were being led down a wooded path near a huge barn, I realized I hadn’t even named the kittens and how maybe I should. One of them had fur that reminded me of S
pecial K cereal; another had black patches around its eyes like a bandit.

  “Stella’s going to horse camp to do dressage this summer,” I said when my parents’ horses started to trot alongside mine in a widening of the path. It felt weird to be talking about Stella when I wasn’t talking to her.

  “That sounds fun,” Mom said.

  And she actually sounded like she meant it.

  “Dressage seems kind of dumb to me,” I said.

  “I used to ride when I was a girl.”

  I had the feeling I knew that about her but had forgotten. “Really?”

  “Yeah, I always thought I’d have horses when I grew up.”

  “Oh,” my father said. “Give it a rest.”

  “Not everything is about you!” my mother said.

  I had no idea what was going on so I just started talking to the guide who was leading us, asking how old Oreo was, how many horses they kept. Anything to block out my parents.

  When we got home, I realized I’d sort of forgotten again about getting the stink out of the house. I started to panic when we walked in and found Bernie sitting at the kitchen table. But she just stood up and said a happy “Hello!”

  The house didn’t smell bad, at all.

  In fact, it smelled good.

  Fresh.

  Better than it had maybe ever.

  “How’d it go?” my dad asked.

  “Great!” she said.

  Somehow my plan had failed. Maybe I hadn’t used enough stuff?

  “We have some very interested parties at this point,” Bernie said. “One woman came alone today but is bringing her husband back with her tomorrow. And a couple from last week is coming back tomorrow, too, for a second look. I’m optimistic. Another developer type showed up right at the end.”

  “That’s great,” Dad said.

  “All righty, then.” Bernie grabbed her bag. “I hope you don’t mind. I put a few little Febreze things around.”

  “Yeah, it smells good,” my dad said.

  “I can remove them tomorrow. Whatever you like. Toodles.” And she was out the door.