Momentous Events in the Life of a Cactus

by Dusti Bowling

  “So school went well then?” Dad said.

  “It went fine,” I said. “Except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?” Dad asked.

  “How can anyone go to school when it’s still over a hundred degrees outside?” I complained. “It should be mandatory that the temperature drop below ninety before we have to go back.”

  “The school has air conditioning,” said Mom.

  “But the bus doesn’t have air conditioning,” I said. “It’s like riding in a toaster oven on wheels. And I have to walk outside from class to class. And the outside doesn’t have air conditioning.”

  “That’s only for a couple of minutes before you can get back inside,” said Dad.

  “A couple of minutes feels like hours when you’re walking on the surface of the sun.”

  “I’ve heard the surface of the sun is cooler than the area around it,” Dad said. “So it’s probably not that bad. Maybe we could vacation there sometime.”

  “Yeah, when we need a break from this heat,” I retorted.

  Mom tapped her finger against her chin. “You could bring one of those miniature fans. Some of them even have little misters on them.”

  I frowned at her. “How am I supposed to hold one of those and walk to class at the same time? And how am I supposed to use one of those in public when I’m not eighty years old?” Lots of people at Golden Sunset had those.

  Dad grinned at his macaroni and cheese. “Tell us something amazing that happened today.”

  I thought for a moment. “My granola bar seemed to have extra chocolate chips in it.”

  “Now that’s something positive,” said Mom.

  “That’s me,” I said. “Always finding the positive. And I got to watch Lando’s football practice with Zion. Too bad they also practice on the surface of the sun.”

  “Yes, I heard about your afterschool activities.” Dad said afterschool activities like they were dirty words.

  “You better get used to it. I’m probably going to be watching football a lot since Zion wants to play eventually.”

  Dad sighed. “I guess I can live with it then. Feels like soccer season is a million years away.”

  “Oh, and we’re all going to Comic Con together in a few weeks. I think the ticket is like fifty dollars, so I will accept payment now, thank you very much.”

  Dad’s mouth dropped open. “Fifty dollars to go look at a bunch of comic book stuff?”

  “You don’t just look at it,” I said. “You dress up, too.”

  Dad gaped at me. “Do they give you your costume?”

  “No.”

  “So you pay fifty dollars to wear your own costume and go look at a bunch of comic book stuff?”

  “I’m sure we can figure out a way for you to earn the fifty dollars, Aven,” Mom said. “There are plenty of chores to be done around here.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. “You can’t blame a girl for trying.” I took a bite of my macaroni and cheese and swallowed. “So what are we doing to bring in more customers this fall besides the horse show? We should do something before that. What’s next? Ideas? Go.”

  Mom laughed. “Straight to business. I think you’ll make a great manager here in a few years.”

  “More like in a few days,” Dad said.

  “While I was restocking the fudge the other day, Henry mentioned that Stagecoach Pass used to have a bonfire to kick off the fall season every year,” Mom said.

  “Can’t do that,” Dad said. “Too dry. No burning.”

  “But the fire would be contained,” Mom said.

  “Laura,” Dad said in his let-me-explain-this-to-you voice that made Mom look like she might launch her fork at him. “You’re not even allowed to have indoor fires in your own fireplace in your own home, and I would say that’s pretty contained. No burning at all. It hasn’t rained in six months.”

  Mom glared at Dad as she continued tapping her fork on her plate. “We could use an alternative source of heat for our bonfire. It doesn’t have to be wood burning.”

  Dad grinned. “Yeah, let’s throw a space heater in the fire pit. That will be a lot of fun for people.”

  Mom lit up. “Yes, it will be a bon-space heater!”

  “That will draw the crowds,” Dad said. “It will only take four hours to melt a marshmallow.”

  “Hm,” Mom said. “A bon-toaster oven then?”

  I laughed. “Okay, forget the bonfire thing. Henry also mentioned something interesting to me today.”

  “What’s that?” Mom asked.

  “He said that he and I were both orphans.”

  Mom and Dad stopped their forks midway to their mouths. “Really?” Dad said. “Did he seem, you know, with it when he told you this?”

  Mom frowned at Dad. “Ben, I don’t think with it is the proper medical term.”

  “What then?” Dad asked. “Did he have all his marbles?”

  Mom shook her head at him. “That’s worse.” She turned to me. “Did he seem clear when he told you this?”

  “Not totally,” I said. “He was a little confused. But he remembered that I was an orphan when he said it, so . . . ”

  “Josephine is his emergency contact,” Dad said. “He doesn’t have any family listed in his medical forms, and he’s never mentioned anyone else before.”

  “Where did he come from?” I asked.

  Dad shook his head. “I don’t think anyone knows. I’m not even sure Henry knows.”

  “Well, I can certainly relate,” I said. “I know how it feels to not know where you came from.”

  Mom reached over and tugged on my hair. “You know now.”

  “No, I don’t. I mean, not totally. I don’t know anything about my birth father.”

  “What is it you want to know about him?” Dad asked.

  “I don’t know. Did he work here at the park? Was a he a rodeo clown?”

  Mom laughed. “I like that idea. Or maybe he was a stunt man who threw himself off the buildings.”

  “They never did that, Laura,” Dad said.

  “Yes, they did,” she snapped back. “Josephine told me. They used to have a big mat they landed on until mice chewed it all up, and they had to throw it away.”

  “Maybe he fell into one of the holes,” Dad raised an eyebrow at me, “and they accidentally threw him away with the mat.”

  I rolled my eyes at Dad, but couldn’t help giggling. “All right, can we please get back to Henry?”

  “Why the sudden interest in Henry’s past, Sheebs?” Dad asked.

  “He’s getting weaker and more tired all time,” I said. “I was wondering if there was anyone he’d want us to contact if something happened to him. You know, before he forgets everything.”

  “I guess only Josephine,” Dad said.

  I stared at my macaroni and cheese. “There has to be more.”

  Mom smiled at me. “I think you just need a new mystery to solve.”

  4

  So much to do

  If I’m going to defeat you.

  —Screaming Ferret

  (Punk band, est. 2011, Tucson, AZ)

  I MADE MY FIRST BLOG POST AS a high schooler that night before I went to bed.

  So I’ve been in high school for twelve whole hours, and I’ve already discovered there’s a ton I have to do to ensure I have the best first year of high school that ever was had by a high schooler. I’m sure there will be a million more goals to come because here are twenty after only the first day:

  1. Three thousand kids. I figure I can make friends with about 10 percent of them by the end of the year. Maybe even fifteen percent.

  2. Go to a school dance. I’ve never been to one because they always play the “Y.M.C.A.”

  3. Come up with a way of handling the “Y.M.C.A.” at the school dance. Do I do it with my feet? My ears? My eyebrows? Maybe I’ll just go to the bathroom while it plays.

  4. New locker. It only took me about five months to master my last one, so I figure I can master my new
one in no more than four months.

  5. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT, develop a crush on anyone. Crushes are rampant in high school but not for me. Bachelorette for life.

  6. Come up with a better blog name. I had to change the name of this blog back to Aven’s Random Thoughts, which is like the worst name for a blog ever.

  7. Learn how to jump Chili so I can put on the greatest performance ever at the Stagecoach Pass Autumn Horse Spectacular! starring the death-defying Aven and Chili. Okay, that’s not the actual name of the show. Some people thought a more boring name would be better. Anyway, check the Stagecoach Pass website for details about the Autumn Horse Show and mark your calendars, people!

  8. Master the topknot. Mine looks more like a top-trashcan.

  9. Start a petition to put air conditioning on the buses. Because who wouldn’t sign that? Also, if I manage to make this happen, I’ll be well on my way to accomplishing goal #1.

  10. Start a petition for outdoor misters as well. They should be standard in every single outdoor area in the entire city. No, they should be the law.

  11. Write the Arizona State Senate about this mister situation.

  12. Grow two more inches so I can reach A1 on the vending machine. That’s the button for Cheetos. It’s a bonus that I’d also be able to reach A2. That’s the button for Milk Duds. I don’t, in fact, like Milk Duds, but I also don’t like them taunting me.

  13. Improve my makeup skills. Lip gloss is supposed to stay on the lips, Aven. On the lips.

  14. Buy some pencils because, yeah . . . I just forgot.

  15. Pick a costume for Comic Con. It must be the exact correct balance of fearsome and awesome.

  16. Get my friends to stop hating people (especially cute boys) who maybe could become new friends; but I can’t be friends with them because my friend hates them. This is called high school politics.

  17. Branch out a little bit with my lunch food choices. Like, instead of smooth peanut butter with strawberry jelly, maybe try chunky peanut butter with grape jelly. Or I could get really wild and try almond butter with orange jelly.

  18. Adjust to the new cafeteria.

  19. Stop worrying about other people looking at me while I’m busy adjusting to the new cafeteria.

  20. Be much more blasé.

  5

  One day you’ll find

  You can be old in your body

  But not in your mind.

  — We Are Librarians

  (Punk band, est. 2009, New York, NY)

  THE NEXT DAY AFTER SCHOOL, I rode the bus to the Golden Sunset Retirement Community. I checked in at the front desk, where the nice receptionist always dropped the clipboard on the floor for me so I could sign my name. Then I made my way to the “leisure room,” where old people could engage in all kinds of leisurely activities—mostly staring at windows, walls, TVs, and floors while drinking tea out of paper cups and eating crackers.

  I found Josephine sitting in a blue plaid recliner, her feet up, reading a novel featuring a bare-chested man with golden locks that flowed in the wind like a fan was blowing on them. I slipped my foot out of my flip-flop and tilted the book so I could read the cover. “Fireman on Fire?” I asked Josephine, raising an eyebrow at her.

  She shrugged. “It passes the time.”

  “He can’t be an effective fireman if he doesn’t have a shirt. Or if he’s on fire. Plus, that hair is a hazard.”

  “He has a shirt,” Josephine said. “But you’re probably right about the hair.”

  I sat down on the couch next to her recliner. Josephine lowered her feet and set her embarrassing book on the side table where I noticed a random set of teeth were also lying.

  “Ew,” I said. “Someone lost their teeth again.”

  Josephine stood up and called out. “Whose teeth are these?”

  A hunched woman in a long maroon dress hobbled over and grabbed the teeth. She stuck them in her mouth and walked off without saying a word.

  Josephine sat back down as though nothing had happened. “So, how have your first couple of days of high school been?”

  “Pretty good. I mean, okay. All right.” I shrugged. “Not too bad.”

  Josephine raised an eyebrow at me.

  “It’s like starting all over again. There are about a billion kids who are seeing me for the first time.”

  “You’ll handle it.”

  “Yes, I’ll handle it. No problem.” I nodded furiously. “I totally got this.”

  “How’s Connor doing at his new school?”

  “He didn’t start until today. I’ll talk to him later when I get home.”

  I felt someone staring at us and glanced over at a wrinkled man with a bald-topped head and glasses. He wore a short-sleeve, button-down shirt hanging out of saggy pants. And then there were the Bert and Ernie slippers—one Bert, one Ernie.

  “Josephine,” I whispered. “That man is staring at me.”

  Josephine glared at him, and he quickly turned his attention back to the game of chess he was playing with a man who may or may not have been asleep. “He wasn’t starin’ at you, honey. He was starin’ at me.”

  I looked at him and found him already watching Josephine again. “Why is he staring at you?”

  Josephine jerked her head in his direction and he quickly went back to his chess game again. “Stalker!” she yelled at him.

  My mouth dropped open. “Josephine, you can’t yell ‘stalker’ in the middle of a . . . of a . . . respectable retirement center.” I glanced at her book lying on the table next to her. “Or maybe not so respectable.”

  “I can yell whatever I want,” she snapped. “Interloper!” she cried.

  I watched the poor guy’s cheeks turn bright red as he stared at his slippers. “What has he done to you?” I asked her. “And what the heck is an interloper?”

  She took a deep breath. “Wherever I am, I find him sitting not far away, starin’ at me like that with those beady eyes. Stalker eyes!” she cried out again. “Plus, he eats the chess pieces.”

  I gawked at him. “What?” I watched as he literally picked up a piece from the chessboard and put it in his mouth.

  What?

  I got up and walked to him. I scanned the chessboard while he sat there chewing. Then I made my way back to Josephine and fell down on the couch. “Well, maybe if you guys didn’t use fish crackers and fruit snacks for chess pieces, he wouldn’t eat them. And what is this? Preschool? Can’t you get better snacks?”

  “What are we supposed to do?” Josephine cried. “They don’t replace the lost game pieces in this dump.”

  I shushed her. “This place is definitely not a dump.”

  “A nicer place would have all the proper gaming supplies. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. He shouldn’t be eating the chess pieces.” She glared at him and raised her voice. “And he shouldn’t be watching me with that predatory gleam in his eyes!”

  “Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh? Maybe he wants to be your friend.”

  Josephine scoffed, “Men like that are only after one thing.”

  “Men like . . . who wear funny slippers?”

  “He could attack me at any moment.”

  “I’m pretty sure I could knock him over with one toe.”

  “Man’s a stalker.”

  “Yeah, well you’d know a little something about stalking, wouldn’t you?”

  She pushed the footrest down on the recliner with a dramatic clang and sat up. “And just what exactly do you mean by that?”

  “Gee, I wonder.” I watched the man as he pushed himself up from his seat at the chessboard and walked over to us at a sloth’s pace, shuffling his feet. “He’s coming over here,” I whispered. Bert and Ernie inched closer and closer.

  Josephine refused to make eye contact with him as he stood in front of us, shaking. “Good afternoon, Josephine,” he said.

  She grunted.

  “Hi, I’m Aven,” I told the man.

  He smiled at me. “I’m Milford.”
<
br />   Josephine grunted again, arms crossed, suddenly interested in the flowery wallpaper.

  “Have you lived here long?” I asked him.

  “No, I moved in last week.”

  The poor guy seemed like he was about to fall over from trying to hold himself up, so I said, “Well, it was nice to meet you.”

  He looked at Josephine. “I’ll see you at dinner, Josephine.”

  Josephine rolled her eyes at the wallpaper and puffed up her cheeks as she blew out a breath. “I’m sure you will, Milford.”

  “I hear we’re having Steak Diane tonight,” he said.

  Josephine cut her eyes to him. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

  I cleared my throat. “I’m sure it will be quite delicious,” I said. I watched Milford scuffle away. Then I turned to Josephine, who was glaring at Milford’s back. “You don’t have to be so mean to him.”

  “I am not about to let that man hornswoggle me.”

  “Okay, I totally don’t know what that means, but it sounds inappropriate.”

  “I don’t want him staring at me like that.”

  Joshua popped into my mind. “You know, a boy at school has been looking at me like that the last couple of days.”

  Her face brightened. “Really?”

  “Aren’t you appalled?” I said to her. “I mean, aren’t you going to get angry?”

  “About what? ’Cause a boy likes you? Do you like him?”

  “Oh, so when Milford does it, he’s an innerlooper trying to hornswoggle you, but when a boy does it to me, it’s all exciting?”

  “Yep, exactly. Is he cute?”

  I tilted my head at her. “Yes. But Zion doesn’t like him. He says he’s a jerk.”

  “Oh, Zion’s probably jealous.”

  “I don’t think so. Zion and I aren’t like that. He doesn’t like me like that.”