The Encyclopedia of Me

by Karen Rivers

  “. . . Tink?” Mom said.

  “Is it Lex?” I said. I could hardly squeak out the words. “Is he dead?”

  “No! Dead? NO. He’s asleep. Those painkillers will do that, plus all the trauma he’s been through,” said Mom. “Poor kid.” She sighed.

  So then Dad said, “You may notice that it’s really quiet around here.”

  “Yeah, where IS Seb?” I said. I cocked my head, like that would make me hear better. Nothing. No video games. No muttering. Nothing.

  And Mom said, “Actually, Seb is going to stay in respite care on the weekends for a while.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Oh.” Then, “Wow.”

  Dad smiled, or tried to. “We’re just trying it,” he said. “See if it gives us a breather, OK?”

  “OK,” I said.

  “It was a hard decision,” said Mom. “But Charlotte says . . . And you were so adamant. And you were right about . . . Anyway, we just think it might be better for you. For all of us. For a while.”

  Mom and Dad stared at me, like they needed me to clap or yell or something, so I said, “Good call.” It was all I could think of. They nodded. Mom reached across the table and held Dad’s hand. I looked at their hands, lying there on the dark wood.

  My ears felt funny and fuzzy, like there was a tiny trumpeter in one of them who was blowing a horn gently in a victory song, and in the other the sound of something breaking. It was so quiet that I wanted to bang the wall, just so Seb would yell at me, but he wouldn’t, because he wasn’t there.

  I cleared my throat. “Respite care is a weird name. It sounds like something that happens when you’re sick or quarantined or something. Like a TB clinic in the Alps.”

  “I know,” Mom said. “It doesn’t really fit, does it?”

  “No,” I said. I leaned against the wall and traced the pattern of the hole that Seb had made with his foot one day, thanks to karate. It was a long time ago. The hole felt fragile, like the wall itself was made of paper. “Seb’s not sick,” I said. “He’s just kind of tiring sometimes.”

  “Yep,” said Dad. “He’s intense, that’s for sure. But some of the greatest thinkers in history were like that, intense.”

  “I know, Dad,” I said quickly, before he could get going on his favorite speech. “More human than the humans.”

  “Right!” said Dad. “You know, Tink. On one of these weekends, maybe we can go camping. You and me. You never get to go, usually. And we have all the equipment, even though Seb’s not into it anymore. I thought maybe you . . .”

  “Yes!” I said. “Sure. I mean, I’d like to.”

  Mom laughed. “You’re your father’s daughter,” she said.

  “Sure am,” I said.

  It was so quiet, I could hear the clock on the mantel ticking. I didn’t even know it ticked. Mom and Dad were still staring at me.

  “Mom?” I said. “I hate ballet. I quit. OK?”

  She looked at me and blinked about three times. “OK,” she said finally.

  I turned around and went into my room. I opened the blind and then opened the window wide so all the cool, dark night air flowed in like water. I took a big breath of that, but I didn’t hold it. I just let it right out again.

  Then I started to write.

  See also Autism; Eels; Kai; Kissing; Respite Care.

  Woe

  A feeling of slow sadness that sometimes overwhelms you and makes you feel out of control, like the sadness is a huge river rushing through your net, and in order to be happy again, you have to catch just one fish in your net, but the river is so wide and huge that catching the fish seems impossible.129

  I don’t feel like that right now. Right now I feel just happy. Straight up, simply happy. But sometimes I feel woe. Definitely.

  The opposite of woe is joy. If I had two puppies, I would call them Woe and Joy and then I would write picture books about their adorable antics and mad misadventures. Woe and Joy is just a really good title, you have to admit. It’s also fun to say out loud. Try it.

  X

  As in “Ex,” but better. Because it’s shorter. So it’s more text-friendly. Which makes it cooler. Think about it! It’s hip to use short words when longer ones would do. So “X” is the new “Ex.” You read it here first.

  For example, “I am an X-dancer.” That means I don’t have to dance anymore. Ever.

  Which is so exciting, I sort of feel like dancing.

  See also Ballet; Irony.

  X-ray

  Pictures taken of your bones using radiation.

  We currently have a series of four X-rays of Lex’s leg taped to the kitchen window so Mom can frequently examine them and frown, and then nod. “Healing,” she says, and reaches out her finger and traces the thick white lines that mark the places where the bones are knitting themselves back together. They look like cracks to me, but apparently they’re patches. I guess it’s sometimes hard to tell the difference.

  See also Aaron-Martin, Sasha Alexei (Lex); Tragedy.

  Xylophone

  A musical instrument that looks like a kids’ toy that involves bonking metal keys with a stick that has a ball at the end. The xylophone is to the keyboard what the ukulele is to a real guitar. I recently found out that people play these for real, and not just when they are two years old and do not yet have the finger control to play the piano. If I were going to play any instrument, I think the xylophone would be the most fun, if only because people would be all, “What? Isn’t that a kids’ toy?” Then you could hammer out some Beethoven or Pearl Jam or something and knock them sideways with your brilliant musicality.

  X is for “xylophone” is one of those things that I always think of with the letter X, because it was up on a poster on my bedroom wall when I was a little kid. X is a weird letter if you think about it, because it’s only pronounced like an X sometimes and other times it might as well be a Z. Why not spell it “zylophone” if that’s the way you’re going to pronounce it? That’s what I want to know. It’s like X isn’t really itself, it’s just a different-looking thing that’s pretending to be something it’s not.

  I am the girl equivalent of the letter X. Or I was. I mean, for a while I felt like I was X and Freddie Blue wanted me to be a Z, and so all I wanted to do was be Z. Because she was a Z, and what Zs cared about was being popular above all other things. And the truth is, I don’t care if I’m popular or not. I’m just a skater kid with an Afro and I type better than I write.

  Don’t worry, I know what you’re thinking, especially if what you’re thinking is “What? The human equivalent of the letter X? You are as nutty as a Snickers bar, kiddo.”130 I feel the same way.

  See also Afro; Boarding, Skate; Ukulele.

  Yoga

  The art of stretching your body around into strange shapes and trying to pretend that you aren’t passing wind, when you are. Because it is impossible not to. Your body just can’t twist like that without something having to give. It’s physics!

  It’s new!

  It’s . . . family fun!

  Except only Mom and Dad actually do it. Lex and I try. Sort of. I mean, we’ll be in the room, but mostly we just look at each other and make faces. Which, in a way, maybe does more for us than yoga would. It’s like rolling our eyes at yoga is now our thing. You know, a brother-sister thing. We are united in our hatred for yoga!

  Seb, of course, refuses to even hear about it.

  I don’t blame him.

  Like all the bizarre things this family does, the yoga was Charlotte Ellery’s idea. It’s meant to keep us calm and build up our chakras or whatever against the negative energy we might accumulate inside us if we feel conflicted about the respite care. When Charlotte Ellery starts talking about chakras, I wonder if she shouldn’t have to call her university and give back her degree, because seriously, I don’t know if autism counselors should spend that much time talking about something as flaky as a chakra. Especially when I don’t know what a chakra really is.

  A lot of movie stars do yog
a to stay thin. I read about it in Everybody magazine, or rather, I used to read about it back when I read Everybody. Come to think of it, that’s probably why Dad does it. I don’t think it’s doing much for family harmony, frankly, at least not as much as Charlotte Ellery was hoping.

  See also Ellery, Charlotte; Everybody Magazine.

  Yogurt

  Curdled milk.

  Mom makes homemade yogurt. This is the most disgusting thing in the world. Mom says it’s amazing, miraculous health food that just may SAVE YOUR LIFE. When I feel like being really extra healthy, or even just ALIVE, I’ll choke some down for breakfast, just because maybe she’s right. Most of the time, I do anything to avoid it.

  Young, Andrew

  Andrew Young is Freddie Blue Anderson’s new future boyfriend. He may or may not know this yet.

  Andrew Young wears big black-rimmed glasses that would look geeky on anyone else, but he makes them look hip. I’ve noticed more and more boys are getting these glasses and most of them look pretty dorky, so I guess boys are just as susceptible as girls when it comes to trends.131 He is new at Cortez this year. He says he came from New York. Everyone assumes this means that he is better than they are.

  Andrew Young isn’t my type. At all. Because my type is Kai. And no one else.

  But then this happened.

  It was three days away from the Zetroc Prom. This is Cortez Junior’s annual backward dance, where girls have to ask boys, and the prom happens in September instead of June.

  “Gulp,” I said, pointing at the Zetroc poster in the hall.

  “What?” Ruth said. “You’re not nervous about asking Kai, right? That’s totes ridic, Tink! You know he’ll say yes! I asked Jedgar.” She sighed and rolled her eyes.

  “Oh,” I said. “I thought you were just really good friends or whatever.”

  “We ARE,” she said. “I don’t like him–like him, I just wanted someone to go with who wasn’t gross. And he’s cute-ish!”

  “Sure,” I said. “I guess.” I did NOT think that Jedgar was cute, but maybe that’s because I’d known him since I was two. It is hard to find someone cute when you knew them at a time when they still drank from a bottle with a nipple.

  “But actually,” Ruth said, “he’s already going with someone else.”

  “He is?” I said. “WHO? I mean, that sucks.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I don’t think I like him anymore. Not that I ever did! I totes didn’t! We’re just friends! AND I thought we could make a mock doc about the whole dumb thing. ­Anyway, I asked Brendan Carstairs and he said yes, but I don’t want to go with him because I like-like Andrew Young now. He’s dreamy. Don’t you think he’s dreamy?”

  “Uh,” I said. “I guess. Why does everyone like him? I don’t get it. I like his glasses. Is it the glasses?”

  “That’s because you love Kai,” she said. “So you don’t notice anyone else.”

  “I don’t LOVE him,” I said, grinning. I tried to stop smiling, but I couldn’t. The smile thing was getting annoying, even to me. But I couldn’t stop!

  Ruth stopped at her locker and started cramming books and papers onto the top shelf. Just then, I saw Freddie Blue and Stella. I waved halfheartedly. FB waved back, but Stella cut me dead with her laser-beam eyes. I pretended to die, but they weren’t paying attention. They were busy giggling and talking really loudly for my benefit, and what they were saying is, “Jedgar Johnston is soooooo cute! OMG! When you asked him to Zetroc, I thought he was going to kiss you SMACK on the lips!” Giggle, giggle.

  Ruth went pale. “He’s going with FREDDIE BLUE ANDERSON?” she hissed. “That phony?”

  “No!” I said. “I’m sure he’s not.” I marched up to FB. “Hey,” I said.

  “Tink!” she squealed and gave me a big hug.

  “FB,” I said, disentangling myself. “Are you going to Zetroc with Jedgar Johnston?”

  “No!” she said. “Stella is.”

  Stella raised her right hand in a totally dumb, flat wave. “Hello,” she said.

  “I’m going to go with Andrew, of course,” said Freddie. “Haven’t asked him yet. Besides, why do you care about ­Jedgar? Aren’t you going with Kai?”

  “Do you LIKE Jedgar?” I said to Stella. She stared at the fluorescent light fixture and sighed. “STELLA,” I said. “Do you?”

  “Duh,” she said. “No. It’s a JOKE.”

  “How is that funny?” I said.

  FB giggled. “You used to think stuff like this was funny,” she said. “Now you’re all, OH, I AM BETTER THAN EVERYONE AND NOTHING IS FUNNY TO ME.”

  “I am not!” I glanced over at Ruth, who was pretending not to listen. “Come on, Freddie Blue, why is it funny?”

  “It’s just part of a thing,” she said. She flipped her hair. “It’s a thing, you wouldn’t get it.”

  “I don’t get why it’s funny to ask someone to Zetroc who you don’t like,” I said. I was getting mad. “How is it funny? Is it because you think you’re so much cooler than him? Or do you LIKE him? What is the deal?”

  “It just is,” drawled Stella. “Mmmkay?”

  “No!” I said. “Not MMMKAY.”

  “Also,” she said. “It’s none of your business.”

  I was trying to stay neutral, I really was. Like Switzerland, which — as I’m sure you know — doesn’t participate in wars, and instead sits quietly in the middle of all the uproar, making chocolate and highly accurate watches.

  “You’re just mad because now that weird Ruth won’t be able to go because she won’t have anyone to go with,” said FB. She lowered her voice to a stagey whisper. “She’s so weird, Tink. Why do you care?”

  I stared at her. “Freddie Blue,” I said. “You just don’t get it. You know what? YOU used to be nice. YOU used to be funny. Now I don’t even know you at all. And I don’t think I want to.”

  I was mad. Super mad. How dare they judge Ruth? Ruth was awesome! Even if she did overuse the word “totes”! And exclamation points! And it was a bit weird about the skateboard/side table.

  But she was my friend.

  So I marched right up to Andrew Young, who luckily walked by at that exact minute, and right in front of Freddie Blue, I go, “Will you go to Zetroc with me?”

  He looked at me like, “Um, who are YOU?”

  But then he said, “Uh, sure.”

  He was pretty cute. Behind the glasses, he had really intense dark eyes. I guess they were brown, but they looked black from where I was standing.

  “So, like, what’s your name?” he said.

  “Isadora,” I told him. I glanced over at FB. Her face said about a thousand things, like “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?” and “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU STOLE MY BOYFRIEND!” and “YOU WILL REGRET THIS!” plus some other stuff, I’m sure.

  Then she stepped close and whispered, “Thanks, I like Kai better anyway.”

  Kai!

  KAI!

  What was I doing?

  “Sorry, Andrew,” I said. “I’ve got to go.”

  And then I ran past Freddie Blue and Stella and Andrew and Ruth and everyone to get to Kai. I found him with Wex, sticking something to the water fountain, which was probably chewed gum. Gross.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Wex opened his mouth and paused, like he was thinking of something horrible to say.

  “Shut up, Wex,” I said.

  Kai looked at me sideways. “Whoa,” he said. “He hadn’t even said anything.”

  “Not yet,” I said. “But Wex always has something to say.”

  “No, I don’t,” said Wex, furrowing his brow. “Sometimes I don’t.”

  “Whatever,” I said. “Look, Kai, will you go to Zetroc with me? Please?”

  Wex snickered. Kai punched him in the arm in a slightly less than friendly way.

  “Ouch, man,” said Wex. “Chill.”

  “Um, totally,” said Kai to me. “For sure, I’ll go with you.”

  I forgave him for saying “um” because he looked so cute, and I
flashed back to how Andrew squinted at me through his glasses like I was a tiny grasshopper that he was forced to inspect for Bio class.

  “I’ve got to go somewhere and do something,” I said to Kai.

  I ran back to Andrew, who was leaning against his locker looking cool in his awesome glasses. I was out of breath completely. I stood there for a minute looking at him, waiting to get enough oxygen to speak. Finally, when I could talk, I said, “Andrew.”

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” I said. “Look, I made a mistake. I meant to ask you to the prom for Ruth. My friend, Ruth? Not for me. It was just a . . . I messed it up. Anyway.”

  “Oh,” he said. He shrugged. “OK. I’ll go with her. She’s the babe with the short hair, right?”

  “Er, right,” I said. Babe? Who says babe?

  “I’ll write it down,” he said. “Lots of girls are asking me. I’ve said yes to seven. How many can you have?”

  “ANDREW,” I said. “Are you serious? One. It’s a prom. You take ONE person to a prom.”

  “Ohhh,” he said. “At my old school, we ______.”

  I waited. He didn’t finish. Just like Lex. I wanted to kick him in the leg, which is what I would have done to Lex, but instead I just walked away. He and Freddie Blue deserved each other.

  “Sorry,” I said to Ruth, when I explained later.

  “It’s OK.” She grinned. “I’m going with Jedgar. Maybe I do like-like him, after all! I think he only said yes to Stella as a joke, you know. He said he was going to make a documentary about how annoying popular girls were. But then he changed his mind.”

  “OK,” I said.

  And I, Tink Aaron-Martin, am going to go to Zetroc, my first ever real dance, with Kai.