by Adam Rapp
Ma borrowed some money from her brother Jack and sent Shay to this place in Michigan called Open Grove Recovery Facility. Shay said it was full of rich kids who were junkies and prostitutes.
When we drove up to visit her there was a snowstorm and the maple trees were so white Ma said she was going to write a poem about them, but she never did.
We got to sit in this room with Shay and there was a foos-ball table and I played against an African American boy with a burnt face while Shay and Ma sat in chairs and stared at each other.
The boy with the burnt face beat me twelve games in a row. Some of his face was brown but most of it was pink and rubbery-looking. I think I had a hard time concentrating cause of this fact.
After he beat me twelve times he played with one hand and beat me twice more.
He was an excellent foosball player. I imagine he could be a professional.
When we said goodbye Shay cried so hard snots came out of her nose.
She kept saying she was going to get clean.
I’m gonna get clean, Ma, I promise, she said. I promise I’ll get clean, please let me come home!
She begged like an animal but Ma made her stay at Open Grove Recovery Facility and cried the whole drive back.
Shay stayed there for a month and when she finally came home she seemed sad and fragile.
One night I asked her about the dead baby.
She said that she dreams about it sometimes and its name is Bruce.
Her boyfriend at the time didn’t even know about Bruce the Dead Baby. His name is Dennis Parker and he’s in the Marines now.
Ma thought that after being at Open Grove Shay would change her ways but she hasn’t.
Ma says, What are we gonna do with Shay?
Ma says, I wasted all my brother’s money.
Now Shay’s got more than one boyfriend.
I saw this guy in her room with her once. His name is Speed and he’s got a tattoo of a dragon on his back. He’s so pale the first time I saw him I thought he was a vampire.
Over the summer Shay had a job at Sizzler but she got caught smoking marijuana in the employee bathroom. Now she doesn’t work and it creates a lot of tension between her and Ma.
Hey, I say, but she doesn’t hear me. Her room smells like cigarettes and air freshener.
I come up over her shoulder. Her hands are shaking so bad it’s like they’re someone else’s hands.
I poke her in the back.
Shay turns and takes her headphones off.
A woman is singing to the speedway song now. She sounds like she’s having a multiple orgasm. Eric Duggan told me about multiple orgasms. He said that women in China have them all the time.
Showtime exclusive, he said. You gotta get that channel, Blacky.
Hey, I say to Shay.
She says, Hey.
I just stand there.
I’m wondering if she can see through me to the other side of her room where her posters are. There’s this one of a horse with a human leg and I’m not sure what it’s supposed to mean.
What’s up? she says.
Nothing, I say.
You okay?
Yes.
There’s something about Shay’s eyes. Her pupils are so black it’s like some aliens took her up in a spaceship and made an exchange.
They used to be a lot bluer.
What are you doing? I ask.
Nothin, she says. Ponderin shit.
What are you pondering?
I don’t know, she says. Takin a trip. Movin to Chicago. The usual.
Oh, I say.
Oh, she says, mocking me.
Are you really gonna move to Chicago? I ask.
I’m thinkin about it. Betty says there are these cheap apartments in Logan Square and that her brother would get the lease for us.
I say, Can I go with?
No.
Why not?
Cause you’re too young, she says. You gotta finish school.
Then I take out the tongue and show it to her.
What’s that? she asks.
It’s a tongue, I say.
She grabs it and looks at it.
Weird, she says.
It’s from the Dave the See-Through Fake Human. I stole it in Life Science. He’s got other parts too. I’m gonna get a kidney next time.
It looks like a dildo, Shay says, and hands it back.
Her comment makes me lose my balance and I do a full circle and wind up facing her again.
What are you gonna do with it? she asks.
Put it in my box, I say.
She looks at me like I said something stupid.
I got this special box that I put stuff in. I keep it in the closet in my room. So far it contains a sweater, a scarf, and a black permanent marker. Later I will try and fit my hardhat in it too, but this will take some special arranging.
Shay’s still looking at me like I’m stupid.
What? I say.
Don’t be such a freak, she says.
Okay, I say.
You need a haircut.
I do?
Yeah, Blacky. And brush your teeth, you have dickbreath.
Okay.
You know how to check your breath, don’t you?
No, I say.
Then she shows me.
She cups her hands in front of her mouth and breathes.
I do it too.
My breath does smell and it makes me feel slow and stupid.
I’ll use gum from now on, I promise myself.
Shay lights a cigarette. She smokes Kools cause these are the cigarettes that her friend Betty steals from her mom.
There are three Airwick air fresheners set on Shay’s desk. She is always careful to blow the smoke into one of these. One of them is supposed to smell like lemons but it smells more like dirty dishes.
I tried to smoke one of her Kools once but I couldn’t get it to go in my lungs. I wound up choking and crying.
The song is over and the next one comes on.
Where were you last night? I ask.
I was in Romeoville, she says. Why?
I say, Cause I came in here and you were gone.
We don’t say anything for a second. She just smokes and acts bored.
I say, What were you doing in Romeoville?
She says, Barn party, and leaves it at that.
Are you gonna be here tonight? I ask.
She says, I’m goin to Rockdale with Betty and Flahive.
Flahive is this guy who sells guns and fireworks. Roman candles are five bucks.
Five bucks for a Roman candle, he’ll say to me sometimes. You got five bucks?
He’s much older than most of the kids he hangs out with. He wears an army jacket and drives a Kawasaki motorcycle. It’s black with lots of red trim. The gas tank has FLAHIVE on it. It’s written in cursive and I imagine this must have cost lots of money.
He has a tattoo of five tally marks on the side of his neck. Shay says that this is the number of years he spent in Joliet Correctional for dealing cocaine.
Once when I answered the front door he didn’t have a shirt on. I looked for other tattoos but there weren’t any. When he walked by me he flicked me in the Adam’s apple and I barked like a dog.
You’re never home anymore, I tell Shay.
Blacky, if you get scared just go into Ma’s room.
I can’t, I say.
Yes, you can. Just take your blanket and sleep on the floor.
I say, I think she’s mad at me.
Oh, everyone’s mad at everybody, Shay says. We’re all mad.
Cheedle’s not mad, I say.
But Cheedle’s not normal, she says.
Shay is so pretty it makes me uncomfortable. She tries to hide it by smearing black makeup around her eyes. But I know this is just a disguise.
What’s in Rockdale? I ask.
None of your beeswax.
Drugs? I say.
Maybe.
I say, You’re gonna get hepatitis
again.
She says, No, I ain’t.
Ma will put you back in Open Grove.
No, she won’t, Shay says. We don’t even have the money.
Shay is wearing this sweatsuit that she stole from the mall. It’s dark blue with white stripes. When you drag your fingernail on it the material makes this noise like records getting scratched in a rap song.
I say, Can I do some with you sometime?
Some what? she asks.
Drugs.
No way, Creepo.
Why not?
Cause most of the time they suck and besides they’re so bad for you.
I say, You do them.
That’s cause I’m a burnt-out slut.
I know she is kidding but when she uses the word slut it feels like getting punched in the stomach.
Is Ma still talkin to that lady? Shay asks.
Yes, I say.
Do you know if she’s workin tonight?
I don’t know, I say. I think so. She’s still wearing the same thing she had on yesterday. She seems pretty worn out.
Aren’t we all, Shay says.
Then she smokes some more and blows into the Airwick lemon air freshener.
I say, If I come in here tonight and you’re gone can I sleep in your bed anyways?
Yeah, she says, sure. Just don’t piss in it.
Then she gives me a titty twister.
Shay has a particular talent for titty twisters.
I break free and rub my nipple. I get so excited I have to sit down on her lap.
Dork, she says.
We almost smile at the same time but Shay has this thing that she does. She stops her mouth from smiling all the way.
Now get outta here so I can ponder, she says, and pushes me off her lap.
It amazes me how well she can talk with a cigarette in her mouth.
Bye, I say, but Shay hardly ever says bye back to you. She has this weird rule about goodbyes.
Then she puts her headphones on and turns back into a UFO.
8
In Life Science Mr. Prisby announces that Dave the See-Through Fake Human is missing his tongue.
Dave’s tongue is missing, he says. If anyone has information regarding its whereabouts please let me know.
He looks at us all keen and suspicious-like.
He adds, There may be extra credit involved. It’s pretty hard to talk to Dave when he doesn’t have a tongue, right, Sofia?
Sofia George blushes and says, Yes, Mr. Prisby.
The girls on the left side of the class laugh like it’s the most hilarious thing they’ve heard all year.
Two of them have yellow streaks in their hair and I’m convinced that they planned this.
After the business with Dave we learn about the lungs.
How they absorb oxygen and discharge carbon dioxide.
I imagine myself as a car. I’m parked near the bowling alley and someone has spray-painted FUCK on me.
Mr. Prisby uses the overhead projector to show a picture of a lung with cancer. It’s so black it looks purple.
The girls on the left side of the room squeal with grossness.
Mr. Prisby says, Not a very pretty sight, huh?
The squealing stops and everything gets real quiet for a minute.
I look at the clock. I have this theory that it moves backwards sometimes.
Mr. Prisby shuts off the projector and says, So don’t smoke. It took me nine years to quit.
When he says this he removes his glasses so we can see how serious he is.
Then he puts them on Dave the See-Through Fake Human and gives him a little squeeze on the nose.
All the girls on the left side of the room laugh and this means everything is back to normal.
After class I approach Mr. Prisby’s desk.
Hello, Blacky, he says.
Hello, I say.
I realize that his tie is a clip-on. All along I thought it was a regular tie. It’s funny the things you find out about people.
What can I do for you? he asks.
I have information, I say.
Oh, he says. What kind of information?
About Dave’s tongue, I say.
I see, he says.
We say nothing for a moment.
I find the window. Something blows by. I think it’s someone’s hat.
I feel hard and dangerous.
Thank you for coming forward, Blacky, Mr. Prisby finally says. What kind of information do you have?
I know where it is, I say.
Oh, he says. Well, that’s good. Where is it?
Do I get extra credit?
Well, I’ll have to see, Blacky. If you can bring it to me perhaps that could be arranged.
I glance over at Dave the See-Through Fake Human. I keep getting the feeling that he’s going to burp.
Eric Duggan took it, I say.
Eric? he says. Are you sure?
Yes, I say. It fell out of his bookbag and I picked it up.
So you’ll bring it to me? he asks.
Yes, I say.
Good, he says. I appreciate that, Blacky.
At lunch Mary Jane Paddington is eating a tuna sandwich again.
Hey, I say.
She says, Hey.
She’s wearing the same QUACK OFF, MOTHERQUACKER! long-sleeved T-shirt she had on yesterday but it’s turned inside out now.
I say, I don’t got enough money for lunch but I’d still like to sit with you.
My stomach growls so loud it sounds like laughing.
Mary Jane Paddington says, Here, and gives me half of her sandwich.
Thanks, I say.
I take a bite. It’s so good that it becomes impossible to hide the fact that I’m starving.
I eat the whole thing standing up.
Mary Jane Paddington says, Hungry, huh?
Yes, I say.
She says, You don’t eat, do you.
I eat, I say.
She says, It doesn’t seem like it.
I ate last night.
No wonder you’re so skinny.
Right then I think of my body naked. My nipples are pen dots. My ribs look drawn on with a pencil.
Mary Jane Paddington says, You forgot to sit.
I say, What?
A minute ago you said that you forgot your lunch money but that you still wanted to sit with me.
I do, I say.
So sit.
Um. I can’t.
Why not?
I say, Cause I think my legs stopped working.
She stands up and says, Do you need me to help you sit?
Yes, please, I say.
She comes over to my side of the table and gently pushes me behind my knees. This is an effective technique and my legs get unstuck.
In the background there are whistles.
Someone yells, skanks! and everyone laughs.
Her hair smells like apples.
It makes me want to taste it.
Here we go, she says, and eases me down.
Thanks, I say.
Mary Jane Paddington says, No problem, and offers her Fritos.
I take too many and some fall on the floor.
In Art I mix paints and continue my Anne Meadows Hair Project. I plan on giving her the painting regardless of the grade.
I picture us on a bike.
We’re riding down Black Road and the sky has many colors. The bike is equipped with a banana seat so both of us can fit. Her breasts are pressing into my back and I feel like a lion.
Miss Haze is not like all the other teachers. She prefers to wear old wrinkly clothes that are full of paint. She doesn’t give grades based on talent or performance.
It’s all about effort in my class, she says.
She never wears makeup and even though her face is young-looking and pretty there are several streaks of gray in her hair.
Eric Duggan says she’s a lesbian and that she lives with a fat woman who looks like Mayor Daley of Chicago.
Wheneve
r someone says anything about Miss Haze, Eric Duggan says, Lesbomania.
You could say anything and he’d make this remark.
Once I said, Hey, Eric, Miss Haze is wearing two different shoes today, and Eric Duggan replied, Lesbomania.
Another time I told him how I saw her sneaking a chocolate bar during class and he said it again: Lesbomania.
I looked up Lesbomania in Cheedle’s dictionary and it isn’t a word. The closest thing to it is Lesbos, which is a forbidden isle in Greek mythology.
I told Eric Duggan about that and he told me to stop being such a wordsmith.
We are painting to music. It’s a piano and this other instrument that sounds like a duck. I have been staring at Anne Meadows’ hair for ten minutes. I realize that it looks more like some pants than hair. I haven’t even lifted my brush.
My easel is lopsided and I have to fold some notebook paper underneath one of its legs so it won’t wobble.
Miss Haze comes up behind me. She sort of slinks when she walks. I would say that her walk is catlike.
Everything okay, Blacky? she asks.
I nod.
Or at least I think I do.
Blacky? she says again.
I say, I’m fine, thanks.
It’s okay if you’re blocked on this one, she says, almost touching Anne Meadows’ hair.
Today she is wearing a blue mechanic’s suit with white paint splatters.
I imagine her lesbian lover splattering the white paint on her and this makes me feel like I have bricks instead of hands.
If you want to move on to a new idea, feel free to move on, Miss Haze says. Just paint what comes.
Okay, I say. Okay.
I fold over Anne Meadows’ hair and start to paint what comes.
Miss Haze moves to the portable stereo and lowers the music.
Close your eyes, class, she says.
Everyone closes their eyes.
Don’t drop your brushes, though, she says.
I peek through my left lid and catch Charles Wilke staring at his easel with his eyes wide open. He is mentally challenged and spends a lot of time in the Special Ed room. Sometimes he picks his nose and wipes the snots on his easel but I don’t hold this behavior against him.
What do you see? Miss Haze asks the class. Let the music move your brush. Liberate your innermost thoughts and let go of all those feelings that keep you sad or stuck.
I try and picture liberating my innermost thoughts.
I see a cage with sharks in it.
Miss Haze says, Now open your eyes and complete what you started.
