Quack

by Anna Humphrey

  Then this popped up on my screen:

  Great! So glad you’re coming back. C U next Thursday.

  What?! I hit End on the recording and scrolled back, looking for the message I’d written to Pascale—but hadn’t gotten around to sending. Had I sent it by mistake? According to the phone, a message had gone through, but instead of the original—Really sorry, but I’m not coming back. Shady needs me home after school. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.

  I found this version where more than half of my words had been deleted:

  I’m coming back. Shady needs me to.

  I blinked at the screen as it hit me: maybe Shady wasn’t mad about the muffin—maybe he was mad about me putting my life on hold for him. Maybe he didn’t need me to. Maybe he didn’t want me to. And, worse still, maybe all this time, as much as he’d been hiding behind me, I’d been hiding behind him too.

  But by the time I looked up from the screen to try to find my brother, he was already gone.

  CHAPTER 17

  Cracked Open

  Told by Pearl Summers

  I know I’m not always nice. Two weeks ago, I told Erika Wallace her puffy winter jacket made her look like an Oompa Loompa (and then she stopped wearing it), but I only said it because it was nicer than mine. At ballet, I made three girls cry by suggesting that they shouldn’t bother trying out for the lead in Swan Lake Junior. (But, seriously, Ashley’s point is weak, and nobody was going to believe Clara or Sam in the role of a swan.) Just the day before, I’d sent a fake text to Sara pretending to be a guy who liked her, because I thought it would be funny. But none of those things prepared me for how it would feel to be a murderer.

  “I’m sorry, Aggie,” I whispered to the cracked egg I was holding in my hands. I pressed my back against the hallway wall and sank to the floor. Ever so gently, I ran one finger along the shell. It hadn’t broken all the way through. “Maybe you’ll still be okay.” But I knew that wasn’t true. Duck eggs need to gestate for twenty-eight days.

  With her shell already cracked, Aggie was a goner—and it was all my fault. If I hadn’t ducknapped Svenrietta, none of this would have happened. What’s more, at that very moment, I would have been onstage wowing the crowd—and Connor—with my “Santa Wants a Christmas Tree” solo instead of having just called the boy I liked an idiot and embarrassing myself in front of every kid, parent, and teacher at Carleton Elementary.

  A tear trickled down my cheek. Then another and another until I was bawling my eyes out and wiping away snot with the back of my hand.

  That was how I was when Shady found me.

  He sat down across the hall from me without a word—obviously. But Svenrietta, who was waddling along beside him, had plenty to say. She walked right over.

  Wak. Wak. Wak, wak.

  Don’t ask how, but I could tell from her tone and the way she was looking at me that she was asking for bread and jam. Quickly, before either of them could see, I put the cracked egg behind me.

  “I don’t have any food for you,” I said through my tears.

  Shady clapped twice, and Svenri went over to settle in his lap. He started stroking her feathers gently, but the whole time, I could feel him staring at me from behind his floppy hair and through his mirrored sunglasses.

  “What?!” I said finally, wiping away some of my tears. “What do you want?”

  He kept right on staring.

  “Okay, fine! We both know I took your stupid duck. I brought her back though.”

  For a minute, the only sounds in the hallway were me sniffling and Svenrietta making the little gobbling noise she makes when she preens her feathers.

  “I’m sorry,” I went on. “Okay. I said it. So you can stop staring at me now.”

  But Shady did the opposite. He reached up, raised his sunglasses, and peered out from underneath them. I’d forgotten how shiny his blue eyes were. When we were little kids, they’d always reminded me of wet pebbles on the beach.

  “What?” I said again, pretending I didn’t know, but the question he was asking with the tilt of his head was clear: Why?

  “She was annoying me, okay?” I said. “Always quacking in class. Getting feathers all over the library. And I know you and Pouya and Svenrietta rigged the ballots for the Sock Ball and stole my and Rebecca’s hats and put them in the lost and found. That duck’s been nothing but trouble since she started school.”

  Shady didn’t look away. It was like he didn’t believe my answer.

  Why?

  “Okay, fine,” I went on, just to get him to stop staring. “And maybe I was jealous. A bit. Once you started bringing a duck to school, you were getting so much attention…I’m kind of used to being the most popular.”

  That didn’t do the trick either. He pushed his glasses all the way up on top of his head, wrapped his arms tightly around Svenrietta, and leaned forward. Anger flashed in his eyes.

  WHY?

  Honestly! What did he want from me? I didn’t know why. I just did it. It wasn’t planned out. But when I opened my mouth to say that, this came out instead: “Because I’m mad at you. I’m still really mad at you, okay?”

  That seemed to surprise him as much as it surprised me. He sat back.

  “We used to be really good friends. Remember the park? Making sand pancakes? And how we used to see who could run up the slide fastest? The beach house and the campfires and the Build-A-Bear birthday party where we picked matching outfits for our bears. And then you just stopped talking to me once kindergarten started. And to everyone! And after Pouya came, you only wanted to hang out with him! What did I ever do to you, anyway?”

  Shady blinked slowly at me a few times.

  “My mom said it was some anxiety disorder thing, and it wasn’t your fault,” I went on. “She said you were in therapy for it. But it still made me mad. And I missed you. It sounds stupid, but maybe that’s why I stole your duck, okay?”

  I didn’t mean to, but I’d started crying again. Big, fat, embarrassing tears dripped down my cheeks. I had my hands over my eyes, trying to hide my ugly, blotchy face, when I felt Shady sit down beside me—the pressure of his shoulder against mine. Then I heard it:

  “Shhhhhhh.”

  He was holding Svenrietta up, placing her gently in my arms.

  “Shhhhhh,” he said softly, as he settled the wriggling duck in.

  The weight of her and the feeling of her breathing in and out, in and out, in and out against my chest was comforting.

  The three of us sat there while I stroked Svenrietta’s feathers and gradually stopped crying.

  That was when Shady stood up and walked back across the hall. He stopped in front of the lost and found table. The teachers had set it up that afternoon. It was piled high with stuff for parents and kids to look through before the holidays. Shady started picking through: hats, sweatshirts, lunch bags, pencil cases. Whatever he was looking for, it was taking him forever to find it. And I was confused when, a few minutes later, he came back, sat down beside me, and handed me a piece of paper. Big parts of it were scribbled out with a black marker he must have found inside one of the pencil cases.

  LOST AND FOUND TABLE

  PARENTS AND STUDENTS! Please check this lost and found table carefully for your hats, mittens, and backpacks. All unclaimed items will be washed and given to Goodwill in the new year.

  He pointed toward Svenrietta. Then back at the paper.

  Lost and found…and…for…given.

  I squinted. Could it be that simple? If Shady ever dognapped Juliette, I’d make him my lifelong enemy. But then, he’d always been a nicer person than me. Even back in the sandbox.

  Shady nodded.

  Forgiven.

  I sighed. Because he didn’t know everything yet.

  I reached behind my back and took out the cracked egg. “She laid it last Monday. I was trying to keep it safe and warm, so it would hatch, but it must have broken when somebody moved the box onto the stage.”

  Shady reached out his hand, and I put Aggi
e into it. Letting her go made me feel even worse, but I knew she wasn’t mine to keep. I was about to start crying again, but Shady nudged me with his elbow. I looked up. He was smiling. Not exactly the reaction to duckling murder I’d been expecting.

  He got up and crossed the hall again, and because Svenrietta tried to twist out of my arms to follow him, I set her down on the floor. When Shady reached the water fountain, he turned to make sure I was watching, then he cracked the egg against the porcelain.

  “Shady! Don’t!” I gasped as he split it in two and emptied it into the basin.

  He held the two halves of the shell up.

  See?

  But I didn’t see at first.

  See? he said again by raising his eyebrows.

  I got up to look. The eggshell he was holding was empty, and in the water fountain there was nothing but some runny white stuff and a yolk. Like the eggs my parents bought at the grocery store—only a little bigger and yellower.

  Aggie wasn’t a duckling-to-be! She was a future omelet! Of course! The egg wasn’t fertilized!

  I looked down at the Lost and Found poster again, which I’d left on the floor. How stupid had I been in so many ways?

  “Did you really write that poem that Pouya recited?” I asked.

  Shady gave a little smile. He nodded.

  “It was good,” I said truthfully. “I mean, even though it kind of ruined the entire play.”

  It seemed dumb to even think it now, but these last few years I’d been imagining Shady didn’t want to talk anymore. That he was just being stubborn. Or, honestly, that he had nothing important to say. But he was still the same kind, funny kid I’d played with when I was four, who thought up the weirdest pretend pancake toppings (ants, acorns, and mini marshmallows made of rocks). He was still filled to the brim with thoughts and ideas. He just couldn’t get them out through his mouth.

  Shady sat down beside me again. Svenrietta waddled over and curled up in his lap. I reached over to pet her, and she gave a little duck sigh.

  “I really am sorry,” I said again.

  But before Shady could give any kind of answer, Gavin and DuShawn came running down the hall in their reindeer costumes. “That play was a total disaster!” Gavin was screaming. “It’s another sign. The end of the world draws ever near.”

  “Prepare to meet your maker!” DuShawn yelled back.

  When I looked over, Shady, who still had his sunglasses perched on top of his head, was looking down the hall at the two boys, shrugging his shoulders and smiling. He picked up Svenrietta and set her in my lap again, as if to say, “It’s okay. We all make mistakes.” And, if I had to guess, maybe even, “It really isn’t the end of the world.”

  CHAPTER 18

  The End of the World

  Told by Pouya

  Maman and Mitra-Joon were pretty mad about my unplanned tree performance. Christmas isn’t really a thing for most Iranian families. I always get a few presents though, so I’ll feel included, and my moms threatened to return every last one of them. But in the end, they caved.

  I got some clothes, books, a build-your-own replica of the Star Destroyer, and a few things that looked like they probably came from a secondhand shop. Not quite the new bike, or the PlayStation and copy of The Evil Undead I’d dreamed of, but no big deal. I could play video games at Shady’s house. Plus, who needs more stuff when the end of the world is mere days away?

  In fact, on the afternoon of December 31, as we counted down the hours to impact, Mr. Cook was on his way to pick me up. It wasn’t all that cold out, and I could have walked, but the Banana Bandit was still at large. Plus, I had a lot of stuff. I was heading to Shady’s for a sleepover. First, though, I bid my parents a fond (and final) farewell, which Maman mostly ignored because she was on a Skype call with Uncle Reza, and Mitra-Joon answered with “Okay, Pouya. See you tomorrow.”

  I had my arms loaded with end-of-the world supplies, so Mr. Cook let me in when we arrived. I was carrying my backpack, a big bag of cheese puffs, my pillow, and all the gummy worms my life savings of $41.42 could buy. I nearly dropped it all when I saw Shady.

  “Huh,” I said. “That’s different.”

  He’d cut his hair. Obviously, I’d seen haircuts before, but never anything like this.

  “Good different,” I added. It was just a regular haircut—longer on the top and shorter on the sides, and not only was Shady’s hair not falling over his eyes anymore, but his head must have been lighter, because he was standing different: straighter and more solid.

  Wak, wak, wak.

  Svenrietta came waddling out of the living room. She was wearing a new diaper with little Santas on it.

  I don’t know what Pearl Summers had fed her during the ducknapping, but when she spotted my bag of cheese puffs, she went berserk with butt wiggling. She started flapping her wings too—kind of hop-flying off the ground.

  “Nuh-uh. No way,” I said. “These aren’t good for you.” But Shady’s sister, Manda, came out of the living room behind the duck.

  “Oh, give her a few,” she said.

  “Yeah. Look how nicely she’s asking,” her friend Pascale pointed out from behind her new video camera—a Christmas gift from her parents.

  Ever since they’d started making the duckumentary again, Pascale had been over at Manda and Shady’s house a lot. I don’t really get teenagers, or girls, but Manda seemed happier again. Or maybe it was just the bright scarves she’d started wearing that jazzed up her all-black outfits and made her look less witchy.

  I opened the bag of cheese puffs—not because Svenrietta was asking nicely but because I realized it didn’t matter. “Sure. Why not?” Processed grains give Svenri the runs, but what was a little duck diarrhea at a time like this? We all deserved to enjoy our last moments.

  Speaking of which, Shady and I had our whole evening planned. It was going to include all the best things: The Evil Undead from five to seven. Pizza with extra pineapple: seven to seven fifteen. More Evil Undead while finishing whatever was left of the gummy worms and cheese puffs: seven fifteen to eleven thirty. And all the while, we’d be keeping in close contact with the other members of the Apocalypse Preparedness Squad in case any of them had news to report.

  And then, of course, just before midnight, the special ceremony. Because the end of the world only happens once, and it’s worth doing right.

  “You’re going to get the end-of-the-world ceremony on film, right?” I asked Manda and Pascale. “I mean, what could be more dramatic than capturing the experiences of a service duck as the earth explodes?” I paused, realizing the problem with that. “Not that anyone’s ever going to see it.”

  Pascale tried to ruffle my hair, but I ducked away in time. “Yes, we’ll film your cute little ceremony,” she said.

  Cute? Little? I pretended I was about to strangle her, but she just laughed, and really, I didn’t mind that much. I like Pascale. She’s an expert at making cheese strings into octopuses, and she keeps Manda busy, so Shady and I can do whatever we want more often.

  “Come on,” Manda said to Pascale. “Let’s take a break from filming and get some snacks.”

  Once the girls were gone, Shady picked up Svenri and motioned upstairs with his head. I followed, dragging along my pillow, cheese puffs, and other supplies. When we got to his room, I logged on to the group chat we’d set up with the other members of the APS: Gavin, DuShawn, Wendel, Aisha, Tammy, and Jang Hu.

  How’s everyone doing?

  Aisha, Tammy, and Jang were together at a sleepover at Jang’s apartment, which was directly upstairs from her parents’ convenience store. If Planet Q happened to hit the other side of the earth—in China or something—and we were all still alive, we were going to meet there to put our survival plan into action. They sent back a picture of the three of them, holding hands and looking terrified.

  Then Gavin, Wendel, and DuShawn checked in separately: Prepared as possible with flashlights and bottled water, Gavin wrote.

  A-OK so
far, Wendel responded.

  Dressed in fabulous end-of-the world outfit, DuShawn wrote, then he sent a picture of himself wearing a sparkly New Year’s hat and a really nice dress.

  After that, there was nothing to do but wait—and feed Svenri cheese puffs and eat gummy worms.

  “Killer move, Captain!” I said as Shady decapitated a big boss zombie whose eyeballs were falling out of her head. But, to tell the truth, the graphic of blood and guts made me a little queasy. Up until then, I’d been pretty okay with the idea of the end of the world, but I was starting to get nervous. My stomach was flip-flopping all over the place.

  Before she died, my mamani always used to go pray at a mosque in Tehran. She believed in the Day of Judgment. According to the Koran, which is a really important religious book, on the day the earth ends, Allah—or God—will judge people for the good and bad stuff they’ve done in their lives and send them to heaven or hell.

  I wasn’t sure that I believed in that, but would it be even worse if she was wrong? That would mean lights out for us all. Or what if she was right, and even helping out the other underducks at school hadn’t been enough to put me on the right side of good?

  As we ate pizza and played hours and hours of video games, I kept glancing nervously at the clock on Shady’s bedside table. Finally it was 11:30.

  “It’s time,” I said.

  While I messaged the other members of the APS to remind them to start their ceremonies, Shady and Svenri went to get Manda and Pascale. They arrived a minute later with the video camera and some candles and matches. The ceremony got underway.

  “This is so stupid,” Manda muttered, but she dimmed the lights for effect, then helped Pascale adjust the settings on her new camera.

  “Come on,” Pascale urged. “It could be funny, at least. And if it helps us win the film competition and the trip to New Orleans, it’ll be worth it.”

  Manda looked nervously across the room at her brother at the mere mention of the trip, but Shady nodded like, It’s okay, and then Manda smiled at Pascale.