“There’s one sure way to be sure,” my Uncle said. “Check your fries for Symbols.”
Symbols. When they know they’ve been noticed they like to let you know they noticed you noticing. They’ll often give you a Symbol, something out of the ordinary only you know what it means. It’s their way of winking at you. A bent fry or twisted fry could be a Symbol.
I picked through the medium bag of fries, looking for Symbols. I found one!
“Look what I got!”
“Twisted?”
“No, folded.”
“Let’s see that fry.”
I handed him an extremely long fry, folded over twice, and he checked it out with a delicate touch. Through the squinty eyes of a police investigator, he considered the too-long, folded-over, untwisted twister fry.
“How do you explain that?” he held up the fry and asked. Not me, he asked everyone else.
The sun went down and the temperature dropped. Store lights flickered in the old part of town. I wouldn’t mind the chill but the fries were gone and I was still hungry.
On the roof of the restaurant one lonely light lit up the “R” in Rex’s.
The parking lot had emptied out, but we continued Identifying. So far I was at fifty percent, maybe fifty-five. He’ll give me the benefit of the doubt. But fifty-five isn’t good enough and the benefit ran out.
Maybe I’ll never learn to Identify. So many new ideas to understand and big words to go with them. Maybe I’ll never catch on.
I thought about the big things I did by myself and what I’d figured out all by myself. The biggest and most important was the rebuilt carburetor I put in the Dart. I did it all myself. It wasn’t easy, but I did it.
Then something got into me and I caught on.
“That guy over there in the Corolla,” I pointed, and then I Identified another guy in a minivan.
“Don’t point,” Uncle Brucker said.
The guy in the minivan wore a white cowboy hat pulled over his ears so it would fit under the roof. He winked at the girl at the drive-up window as he passed. She saw him and winked back, and he winked his way out onto the street.
“Let’s go,” Uncle Brucker said.
The lesson was over. No sense sticking around. This is Conklin, a town meant for passing through. Uncle Brucker’s a good teacher and I’m a quick learner and this is the proof.
Uncle Brucker wanted to drive. I moved over and he slid into the driver’s seat. He sat up straight because his back hurt and he felt better, and he started up the Eagle.
I know my Uncle. I know him better than anybody. He’s proud of me. I know what’s going on in his head right now.
“Damn good Identifyin’, Walt,” I heard him think.
11
The gas gauge in the Eagle broke years ago. Put in as much gas as you want, it’ll only measure one fourth, at least that’s what we figured. But something went wrong as we drove home from Conklin. The Eagle stalled coming out of the lot, but Uncle Brucker got it going again. The engine kicked and the exhaust sputtered on the highway. About three miles from home it finally cut out and we pushed it off the road at the corner by the brokedown Texaco station. Tomorrow morning we’ll come back in the Ram with a can of gas and start it up.
Now we walked those three long miles.
It was a bright night with an almost-full moon. A little dent in the side of the moon or it would be full. No clouds, but the stars were hard to find. Well, just one cloud I didn’t notice at first, sneaking through the treetops, a fluffy little cloud that looked like sky broccoli. The wind came up, blowing hard in a one-cloud sky. The treetops swayed and the branches squeaked a spooky way, but some squeaks weren’t so spooky. The big moon was really big, biggest moon I’ve ever seen.
Somehow that big puffed-up moon made me want a chocolate shake or vanilla the way TV makes you want things. No place to stop for a shake along the way, unless somebody built a store that afternoon.
I knew my chances for getting a shake were slim, but I kept wanting a chocolate shake or a vanilla shake all the way home.
12
Wednesday after school we took the Ram downtown and Uncle Brucker bought me a pair of Identifying sunglasses in Constant Value Stores. The end display on Aisle #8 caught my eye right away. Someone just restocked it. It was waiting patiently for me.
“Choose carefully,” Uncle Brucker said. “A good pair of Identifiers will cut through the bullshit and you’ll see their inner selves. There’s only one pair will work for you, unless you go to China. You gotta find that rightful pair, and you better be sure. I got no money for China.”
I chose a real cool pair from the center of the rack. An extra piece of plastic ran across the top for support, and wiggly pads fit the side of my nose. I put the sunglasses on and they slid down my nose.
I tried on the next coolest pair. This pair lacked that extra piece across the top but they stayed up on my nose. A famous French designer signed his name along the right side and a designer from Italy signed her name on the left.
I checked them out in the mirror.
“What do you think, Unc?”
“I ain’t wearin’ ‘em. You tell me,” he said.
Me, in the mirror.
“Looks like I got my rightful pair!” I said.
“Wear ‘em whenever you’re Identifyin’,” said Uncle Brucker. “Use the Three Key Steps for reference. Identifyin’s easy when you’re lookin’ through your rightful pair, and they don’t notice you noticin’ them. And don’t let nobody else wear ‘em. They dull ‘em out for ya.”
Uncle Brucker went back to the car and I strolled around Constant Value.
What Uncle Brucker said made a lot of sense. Maybe not right away, but later when you think about it.
A red-haired woman pushed a cart filled with groceries down aisle #7. Her child walked beside her. It all looked regular with my Identifiers off. Put them on, my mouth fell open. Through the glasses, the mother had a gray rat face with an ugly rat nose. And the little rat-face kid had whiskers.
But her hands on the cart were the soft hands of a young woman. I guess that part of her didn’t turn yet.
Quickly I looked away to be sure she didn’t notice me noticing her.
Next aisle over, a pretty woman shopped with her tall handsome husband. She walked like a runway model who wanted to make it on the screen. The handsome guy was the director. He shaved with the kind of razor that leaves a stubble.
She thought she knew it all, but she didn’t notice that her director husband was turning rat. Through my glasses I could see what she’d never expect. Scrawny rat hands and fat rat arms and sharp rat teeth. What she doesn’t know about I won’t tell her.
I walked through the supermarket like a high noon gunslinger, hunting for bounty and ready for action. You can keep your space ships and hold onto your zap-zap phasers. My hands were made for a six-shooter.
To go with my Identifiers I bought a big brim baseball cap. I put it on when I left the store and wore it to the Ram. You can’t tell who I am or what I’m up to in my Identifiers and big brim sport cap. Being a Man of Mystery has its drawbacks, but it beats giving it all away.
Also, I had figured out my own little symbol, a way to let them know I had Identified them. Whenever I Identified someone for sure, I flipped up the brim of my baseball cap and flipped it down again.
Like this. Like that.
Uncle Brucker thought it was a good idea, flipping the brim.
“Cool,” he said.
I flipped it again.
“Double cool,” he said.
13
Uncle Brucker told me to keep a RAT GENE LIST for his Government Report. SUSPECTED and INFECTED. I added CUT OFF.
RAT GENE LIST
SUSPECTED
Brad
Darcie
Jose Canusy
Bud Faut at Schnell’s Hardware
That hot girl with the curly hair outside Half Price Stores Phil and Darlene Pearson
Hest
er and Nestor Landers
A lot of kids who hang out at Weidy’s
Sam and Debbie
A lot of kids who hang out at the Galleria
The old guy in the ticket booth
Biff Burris (probably)
Milt at the cigar store
Fred Orbis
Mark B. Meaux
INFECTED
Fred Atkins
Patrick
Burt Faut
G. G. Straub
Grant
The two guys from Conklin
Ray Batavia
Rita Burris (too cute to cut off)
The Taylor kids from Colony Park
Garth
Travis
Marty Grover
Walter Wackenreuter
CUT OFF
Theresa
Patrick
Artie Gaetano at Tuskies
Martha Drick, or Dricker, the skinny girl from Colony Park
Grant Barsky
Marty
Loretta
Garth
Travis
Mr. Jastrab, the school janitor
Michael Ostrander
Ms. Nansatter
Jay Waterson
Gini Masterson
Barry Allen Blatters
Randy Garrett
Bowen Taggart
14
On weekdays, Uncle Brucker dropped me off across from the high school before he went out on the road answering help calls and tracking rats. He warned me, don’t take my Identifiers to school. So I kept them in my pocket and put them on when I got out of the car.
I marched in through the main entrance, past the front office where the Principal sat, and down the hall.
I’m the guy everybody’s waiting for. Smiling, my hair combed back the way I like it. New Nikes. Top it off with my Identifiers, I turned a lot of heads.
They’re just ordinary-looking sun glasses from Constant Value Stores, but I didn’t get them to block out the sun and look cool. Everyone suspected they hid something deep, but they couldn’t figure it out and they won’t find out from me.
Identifiers on, I see who they are and who I’m not, and I see what they can’t see.
“You think you look cool in those shades,” Manny said in the hall.
“I got a cool attitude in general,” I said.
“Gonna get a pair just like that,” said Bones.
“You can get a pair like ‘em but believe me they won’t be just like ‘em,” I said. “They’re made for me and only me, and that’s what makes ‘em different.”
“Can I try ‘em on?” asked Manny.
“No way.”
Everybody admired them and wanted to buy a pair, including Charlee. Except Bunky made a face. You wear sunglasses, pretty soon you’ll spray on cologne, he says, which means something to him I guess.
I’d wear them all the time, inside and outside, in the bathroom and in bed. I’d wear them all day long. But Uncle Brucker said be careful, don’t turn any heads, but I wasn’t careful and I did.
The sunglasses got everybody looking my way. The kids pointed to me and whispered to each other. I figured I better cut that out before it goes too far. So then I wore them as I entered the school and took them off in the hall.
I put them in my shirt pocket, sticking out just a little so you’ll notice. Through the morning and after lunch, somehow they heated up. By sixth period my pocket was a hotcake. Ordinary sunglasses don’t give you trouble. But these are not ordinary glasses. They are my rightful pair. They’d jump out of my pocket and climb onto my face if they could.
In Mr. Dunkle’s third period English, I kept my cool, but in the afternoon in history when Mr. Ross wrote on the chalkboard, I couldn’t help sneaking a peek.
This is what I saw:
First row, seat one. Franklin Fodor, coming on strong. Nose? Stretched. Ears? Fuzzy. What once were fingers are now claws. Can’t see his left arm but I know what to expect. I wonder what his little brother looks like.
Second row, seat three. The new kid, Jimmy Buscadora. A patch of fur grows up his shoulder and makes a V on his neck. In this case the V stands for rat.
And look at little Fenisha, she ain’t half as cute with those whiskers, and there’s Sue Coley-Phelps and Peter Feezey and other kids I didn’t mention.
I put their names on the list.
15
Charlee and I became friends in the sixth grade. Seventh and eighth grade we went different ways, but we’ve been real good friends from the eighth grade on. She’ll always be one day older than me even though she’s was born only six and a half hours earlier. Her real name is Charlene but everybody calls her Charlee. She’s cute in a funny way and funny in a cute way. She’s not hot like Renata. She’s smart but she won’t eat pizza.
She saw me talking to Bones and Manny.
I said goodbye to the guys and went over to her.
“We gotta talk,” she said.
Yesterday in the office she heard Mr. Ross talking to the principal, Mrs. Molasco. Mrs. Molasco was looking in from the hall during Mr. Ross’s class and she saw me put my glasses on. She wants to confiscate them. She says they’re cheating glasses. I wear them when I take a test and I see all the answers.
“Don’t bring ‘em to school,” Charlee said, “unless you want to get rid of them. She sees ‘em, she’ll grab ‘em.”
“She won’t get ‘em from me.”
“Cheatin’ glasses,” said Charlee. “They sell ‘em in the back of magazines. They got a switch.”
“They ain’t got glasses that can see answers, and there ain’t no switch.”
16
In Mr. Ross’s World History class we had to give report on a Great Historical event. I asked can it be World Shaking and he said that’s good too. It had to be at least ten minutes long about a Great Historical or World Shaking event of your own choice, and it had to include at least one chart or map or diagram you had to draw yourself.
Last week Charlee gave an excellent report on Mt Vesuvius and Pompeii. For visual aids she had an accurate map and a well-drawn diagram of Vesuvius and Pompeii destruction.
Mr. Ross is a tall man with a long neck. His Adam’s apple bounces up and down like a sing-along dot when he talks. His necktie dances around it, except when he sits at his desk it sinks and sits it out. He announced to the class Charlee earned an A for Vesuvius and Pompeii, but I gave her an A+.
Today it’s my turn to give my report on The Asteroid That Crashed.
I was determined to make the best report in the class. The ten minute limit didn’t apply because I had so much to say. I made my own rules that worked for me.
I worked on the outline with Charlee in the library and at home after school. Uncle Brucker helped me make a Before And After Crash Chart, and I drew a Map Of Destruction with a real-looking asteroid, with rats and dinosaurs running around.
Uncle Brucker coached me in my presentation and he taught me how to be dramatic at all the right moments. But never be overly dramatic. Grab my heart but don’t grab it too tight when the Asteroid crashes. Throw up my arms at the end like I’m going to catch the Asteroid and fling it back.
The other students have smart computers to help them out, and their older brothers have smarter computers. But that will only get you so far. If you want to go the rest of the way, ride with my Uncle and me and bring for reference a thick book with thin pages.
I started off by describing the situation when the Asteroid crashed, who knows how long ago. Before ice could form and way before clouds learned to snow. Dinosaurs ran around acting like big shots. They looked down and they never looked up. Or they’d see it coming and move out of town.
I started out slow and quiet. Everyone lean forward and listened closely. When I had their attention, I turned up the volume and added the dramatics.
The Asteroid crashed somewhere in the world south of Texas. It made a hole bigger than a thousand A-bombs. The air turned to charcoal for more than a lifetime. The whole world
was in trouble because the sun and the moon disappeared. Things got even worse when the rats came out.
I spoke realistically as if I really lived back then and traveled through time just for this class. My ancestors died when the Asteroid Crashed, so it affected me personally.
I borrowed a metal stand from the music room to display my charts, maps and diagrams. My damage chart showed the Earth with a dent. I forgot one map at home but I’ll bring it in. My report lasted twenty-five minutes because I included a lot of statistics and facts. Mr. Ross said it’s a record that won’t be beat. I ended the report with a question. Hidden inside that question was a warning:
“How would you feel if the Asteroid crashed in your back yard?”
The report was over, and Charlee stood up and applauded. Nobody else stood up, and nobody but Charlee applauded, but she made up for it with enthusiasm.
I bowed to the audience and winked at Charlee the same time, and that’s when my Identifiers fell out of my shirt pocket and landed on the floor.
Mrs. Molasco watched me from the hall. She walked in with a mean look on her face, and she bent down and picked up the glasses. Nobody said a word when she walked down the hall to her office.
17
Mrs. Molasco’s office is on the left when you go in the main entrance to Dodd High. A double-wide window looks out over the sidewalk, the flag pole, and the front lawn. A row of inside windows gives her a clear view of the students in the hall.
Next to her desk, a water cooler with a giant upside down bottle makes bubbles like a guppy. Big green leaf jungle plants grow in pots on the window sill and in big pots on the floor around the room.
Mrs. Molasco sits in the desk chair among the plants and looks out the window. Or she sits on the leather couch on the opposite side of the room with the jungle plants and the water bottle and observes the students out in the hall. Weekdays eight to four. One hour for lunch. Take the summer off.
Now you know what it’s like to be the Principal.
She didn’t say a word to me when she took my glasses. She could have said “I’ll Take These, Please,” or “Excuse Me.” She walked into the classroom and picked the sunglasses off the floor, and before I could stop her she left the room.
Uncle Brucker the Rat Killer Page 4
