Flip the Bird

by Kym Brunner

  “I’m meeting that girl I told you about.” I was sort of unable to believe it myself.

  Lincoln’s head jerked toward me, and he punched my thigh. “Way to go, little bro! So you got some balls and asked her out.”

  I resisted the urge to rub away the painful spot on my leg. “Today’s a group thing, but I’m planning to ask her to the movies later on. Got any tips?”

  He smiled, and I could tell he was proud that I was asking. “Depends. Is she hot?”

  “Exceptionally hot, but in a cute way.”

  “Nice. And you’re sure she’s not blind or anything?” he joked.

  “Ha-ha. Yes, she knows what I look like, you jerk.”

  Then I prattled on about how funny and sweet Lucy was and how I’d been sitting with her at lunch every day. That she was originally from Wisconsin too, and that she loved it there, just like we did. I even told him how Charlie offered his stain removal services to the girls.

  Lincoln laughed. “Chubs is one weird dude.”

  I quickly mentioned my worries about Reed maybe liking Lucy too, and Weasel’s advice about timing being everything. “So what do you think my chances are?”

  “Her picking you over Reed? Slim, but hey, what have you got to lose? The worst that could happen is that she’ll say no.” He turned onto Main Street, now only a block from Woodley Town Centre.

  I widened my eyes. “Which would totally suck! It’s fun sitting with her at lunch, and I don’t want to screw that up.”

  “Okay, wuss boy. So you’d rather eat lunch with her and let Reed make his move?”

  “No.”

  “Then ask her out. Grow a pair already, will you?”

  I simmered at my brother’s assessment of me but knew he was right. “Okay, fine. But there’s one small problem.” I bit off part of my fingernail and spat it out, dying to ask his opinion on the whole animal rights thing.

  “Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.” He pulled into the first open spot in the mall’s parking lot, but kept the engine running. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Nothing. She’s just”—​I took a deep breath—​“part of that HALT group.”

  Lincoln whacked my chest super hard with the back of his hand. “HALT? Those animal freaks? Are you insane? After what they did to Mom?”

  I poked at a small rip in the leather seat. “Chill out. It’s not like she did anything.”

  “Stop pulling on that!” he ordered. “I don’t know, Mercer. Nothing like picking the wrong girl.” Lincoln stared at me with contempt, shaking his head.

  “It’s not like I picked her off a tree or anything. We just started talking and we clicked. What did you want me to do? Walk away?”

  “Maybe. If you have to change who you are.” He rubbed his clean-shaven jaw. “But I know what you mean. A hot girl who is into you is hard to resist—​even if she doesn’t meet all the requirements.”

  “I’m not changing who I am,” I argued, wondering if I was kidding myself.

  Lincoln shifted to face me. “What did she say when you told her that you hunt?” He glanced out through the front windshield, where I saw people carrying posters and walking toward Wool-Mart. He leaned forward, trying to get a better look.

  Whoa. I needed to distract him before he’d figured out what was going on. “I didn’t tell her yet. What time you have to be at work?”

  He sat up in a hurry. “Crap! I start in six minutes. Okay, listen. Do what you want, but don’t tell her you hunt until you’re solid.” He held up crossed fingers, I guess as a sign of being a couple. He pointed toward the door. “Now get out.”

  I scrambled out of the car, relieved my brother had given me the green light. Not that I needed his permission, but if he hadn’t, I would’ve had to add him to the list of people I was lying to. The list was getting longer by the minute. As I was about to shut the door, Lincoln yelled, “Hey!”

  I poked my head back into the car. “Yeah?”

  “Good luck, bro. Hope she says yes.”

  I grinned. “Thanks. Me too. Which reminds me—​if she does say yes, can you give us a ride to the movies tonight?” I made my most desperate, pleading face.

  “You dork.” He shook his head, but was smirking. “God, it sucks to be you. Yeah, I can drive you. Now shut the door before I get fired.”

  I slammed the door and he sped away, leaving me to wander toward the throngs of people hanging around in front of Wool-Mart. The heaviness in my chest made me feel like a lying sneak. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was doing something wrong by being there. Like when you’re a little kid and you wait for your mom to go to work so you can eat some of the Halloween candy she’d bought to hand out to trick-or-treaters.

  Okay, so two entire bags were excessive. But at least I hadn’t ralphed.

  I went over my plan—​fake an interest in the people blathering on about wool, make Lucy laugh, and maybe throw in a compliment or two. If things went well, then at some point, I’d get her alone and ask her if she wanted to go to the movies. I’d ask casually; that way if she said no, I’d say, “Yeah, well maybe next time.” I’d walk away, pretending she hadn’t just crushed my total universe.

  If she said yes . . . I already had a plan for that too. I’d looked up the movie listings and found a romantic comedy. Girls love those. Figured it would get her in the right mood for a good-night kiss after it was over. Maybe even sneak one during the movie if things were going really well. When we got to the theater, I’d buy us a bucket of buttered popcorn, whatever kind of candy she wanted along with a box of Junior Mints for me, and a large pop with two straws. And then, when the lights went down in the theater, I’d wait ten minutes and slide my arm around her shoulders. It’d be awesome. Only one small yes stood in my way.

  “Mercer?”

  I spun around to see Lucy walking toward me with two older people I assumed were her parents. As they got closer, my stomach dropped. Not only was her mom the frizzy-haired woman in the purple skydiving suit, but her father was Ugly Ponytail Guy.

  “Hi, Lucy.” I smiled at her, and then nodded at her parents, immediately uncomfortable. I quickly deliberated whether to remind them that we’d met already, or pretend I was someone new.

  Her dad stuck out his hand. “I’m Lucy’s father, Jerry, and this here’s her mom, Frieda.”

  “I’m Mercer. Nice to meet you.” I shook his hand, his grip nearly breaking mine in two. But I hung on, trying to match my strength with his. “Lucy’s told me a lot about you two,” I lied. I might stink at impressing girls, but was king of sucking up to parents. In fact, they often ended up liking me more than they liked their own kid. Yeah, I was that good.

  “It’s a beautiful day today, isn’t it?” her mom chirped, rubbing her hands together. “And lookie here at all these people! Lucy told us you joined her club at school. It’s so wonderful that she’s making new friends.” She smiled warmly, her large front teeth glinting in the sun as she touched my forearm. She didn’t seem crazy anymore.

  “It sure is,” I said, noticing her father staring at me curiously. “Lucy’s a really nice girl.”

  Her mom chuckled, her shoulders bobbing up and down. “I think so too. Oh, dear me. I almost forgot!” She dug in her purse, pulling out two red stickers on a wax paper strip. “I got you kids something.” She peeled off two stickers and stuck them on our shirts. “Aren’t they darling?”

  I read my sticker upside down: SHEEP NEED CLOTHES TOO—​WEAR COTTON! I glanced at Lucy’s sticker: WOOL. IT’S NOT FOR EWE. Catchy slogans, even if the concept was lame. I came up with my own: WOOL—​IT KEEPS YOU WARM WHEN YOU’RE COLD; but then I figured they might ask me to leave if I shared it with them.

  A man on a loudspeaker announced, “Welcome one and all to our fourth annual Cotton Round-Up. We’ve got a lot in store for you today.”

  Lucy’s father scratched his head. “You know, Mercer, you look familiar to me for some reason, but I can’t place it. What did you say your last name was?”
r />   A pain hit my gut like a karate kick. Did they know my mom’s last name? Before I could say a word, Lucy snapped, “It’s Budson, Dad. And would you two stop pestering him now? I told you I’d introduce him and I did. Let’s go, Mercer.” She jerked her head toward the stage, and I followed like a lost puppy. I felt a little weird not correcting her, but I doubted they would let their daughter hang out with the son of the evil lab director, so I stayed mum.

  “Don’t forget,” her father said sternly. “Meet us at the car at eleven.”

  “You told me three times already,” Lucy answered, surprising me somewhat with her attitude. At school she was more like Glinda the Good Witch than the mean one. “I got it.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mercer!” her mom called out. “Have fun, you two!”

  I turned and waved before Lucy grabbed my arm and pulled me away. “God, they’re so annoying. Sorry about that.” She let go of me as we approached the crowd.

  “No problem.” I sort of wished she’d kept her hand on my forearm a bit longer. I’d done quite a lot of bird and barbell lifting that week and hoped it showed.

  We wound our way through the crowd as the man on the loudspeaker introduced someone named Jess Hibbard, the president of Cotton Mills, Incorporated. There was a rush of applause, and the man climbed the four stairs to the portable platform that had been erected in front of Wool-Mart. People with shopping bags stood watching from the safety of the walkways in front of the stores they had just exited, shielding their eyes from the sun.

  We ended up near the front, by a group of townies, a few of whom I vaguely recognized from the rare occasions our family had gone to church. I relaxed, glad no one there knew me well enough that this might get back to my folks. I tried not to think about the wool protest and instead concentrated on impressing Lucy. I couldn’t believe we were there together, almost like a date. When she smiled at me, I smiled back but quickly looked away before she thought I was a freak for staring at her.

  “Welcome, animal lovers and members of HALT!” Jess Hibbard’s voice boomed through the speakers as he raised his hands to a round of cheers. He wore blue khakis and a golf shirt, which I’m sure were both 100 percent cotton. I was surprised they didn’t get upset about the mean, nasty humans ripping cotton from the parent stem, the poor helpless cotton bolls.

  “We’re here to celebrate our solidarity in choosing cotton over wool. As you know, cotton’s my business, but it hasn’t always been my passion. But about ten years ago, I found out about a barbaric practice called mulesing, and I’ve been a changed man ever since.”

  I leaned over to Lucy. “Did Haley come today?” I asked so I’d know exactly how much alone time I had with Lucy before Haley came along and ruined it for me.

  Lucy nodded, pointing. “She’s running the refreshment stand. The man who introduced the speaker is her dad. We’ll go say hi to her later, okay?”

  “No-kay,” I replied, hoping Lucy would get the hint but not be offended that I wasn’t a big fan of her friend.

  She gave me a knowing smile and a shake of her head. But she didn’t try to change my mind.

  The speaker continued, “Thousands of sheep are mutilated when a farmer cuts off the unanesthetized skin around the sheep’s genital areas, removing whole chunks of flesh, leaving open, bleeding sores.”

  Ouch. Mulesing did sound extremely painful. Just an accidental bump in the balls would send me to the ground, so I couldn’t imagine what hacking off hunks of skin from the sides of my inner thighs would feel like. I looked down, and to my embarrassment discovered that I had my hand over my crotch, instinctively protecting myself from getting mulesinged, if that’s a word. I jerked my hand away, hoping Lucy hadn’t noticed.

  A woman yelled something about Wool-Mart being monsters. A girl shrieked and called out, “Mutilators!” But when a man from the back shouted, “Raising animals for profit is an abomination!” it went a little overboard.

  Jess Hibbard raised his fist in the air to emphasize his point. “Mutilating sheep so we can wear their wool is inhumane and unnecessary and must be stopped. So I’m asking all of you to boycott wool and wear cotton.”

  A balding man wearing the traditional navy Wool-Mart vest walked halfway between the store and the crowd. “What’s the alternative to mulesing, tough guy? You’re not giving them the whole picture. Tell them about fly strike.”

  People started booing so loudly, I couldn’t hear what the manager was saying. I did think it was kind of douchey for a cotton grower to speak out against wool, and while I had originally agreed with Cotton Man’s message, I wanted to learn what fly strike was. Could there be a legitimate reason for mulesing?

  Something else confused me too. I could swear two guys had leather belts around their waists, and the chick next to me had on a leather bracelet. So killing a cow to wear it was okay, but eating it was inhumane? It seemed to me that if you were going to take issue with something, at least you should know what you were doing. Unless . . . maybe some of these people were there only to bleep for the sheep but didn’t give a pow about cow.

  Since I was a big faker myself, I figured I wasn’t the person to criticize. Besides, I felt that people had the right to do what they wanted—​eat meat or not, boxers or briefs, protest or partake, straight or gay. Who cares? The only thing I did care about today was asking Lucy out, and if I didn’t do it soon, she’d be heading home and I’d have done this whole dumb protest thing for nothing.

  No more mouse for me—​I was finally going to be the man.

  The Wool-Mart manager eventually went back inside to boisterous cheers, and Haley’s dad got back onstage. He thanked people for coming, asking everyone to please place their donations to HALT inside the red plastic buckets on the tables. People rooted around in their pockets and purses for money, but all I had was a ten-dollar bill. No way was I giving that up. I had better plans for that money.

  “Want to get something to drink?” Lucy shielded her eyes as she squinted in the sun. “We can say hi to Haley.”

  I faked disappointment. “Only thing is I’m dying of thirst, and look at that line.” I nodded toward Haley’s table, where dozens of protesters were lined up to get drinks. “How about we head to McDonald’s instead?”

  “McDonald’s?” She gasped, a horrified look on her face. “With my parents here? I’d be shot if I even went near any of those places.”

  Duh. How stupid could I be? I spun around, scanning for someplace that didn’t serve meat. “Is Starbucks okay?” I hoped ten bucks would be enough to cover two drinks there. I’d order water if I had to, so long as Lucy and I could be alone for a while.

  “Sure. Let me go get some money from my dad.”

  “I got you covered,” I offered, trying to sound casual.

  “Okay, thanks.” Lucy looked at me with those gorgeous green eyes, sucking me in like a rip current. I was pretty sure I didn’t want to swim out of this one, though.

  I had to force myself not to stare. “I only offered because you’re wearing a cool shirt.” I looked down at her green KISS ME, I’M VEGETARIAN T-shirt with giant lips on it, imagining she wore it to send me a cryptic message. If things went well, I’d enact that slogan tonight.

  “Yours is funny too.” She poked my chest, giving me a brief moment of joy.

  We went inside and bought our drinks, and I was relieved that I had enough to cover the bill. We sat down in the comfy chairs by the window and talked. I loved how Lucy sipped her caramel Frappuccino, made a comment, crossed her legs, and then asked me a question, with barely a breath between. I was so thrilled to be there, just the two of us, that I forgot to listen for a second. I tuned back in when I heard, “Lord knows my parents didn’t have any friends in Green Lake.”

  “Seemed liked they made a lot of friends here.” I motioned out the window. “An entire parking lot full of BFFs, in fact.”

  Another giggle. “I wish.” Lucy swirled her straw through the whipped cream and licked it off. “To be honest, though, my pa
rents are kind of weird. Because we’re vegetarian, they check food labels constantly for hidden ingredients, buy all the bruised and about-to-rot produce at the grocery store, and grow things like organic bean sprouts on the kitchen window ledge.” Her eyes lit up with a hint of a smirk. “Remember the ones you were so fond of the other day?”

  “Oh, you mean the crap sprouts?”

  “Yeah, those. Also, they’ll only buy things made by companies on the cruelty-free list, vote for politicians who support animal rights, and even only play eco-friendly music from bands like Harvest Time and Father Earth.”

  I grimaced. “What and who?”

  “Exactly. Trust me, the music sucks. It’s all nature sounds, like crickets and waterfalls.”

  I didn’t want to diss Lucy’s parents, but based on my limited knowledge of them, they did seem odd. Like Aliens-Took-Me-to-Their-Spaceship-and-All-I-Have-Is-This-Lousy-T-Shirt odd.

  “Maybe a little strange,” I admitted.

  “You haven’t heard strange. Strange is never allowing me to go anyplace with animals on exhibit—​zoos, circuses, petting farms—​not even horseback riding. Strange is lecturing me when I accidentally bought new mascara from a company on the banned list. Worst of all are the embarrassing arguments they get into with people over animal rights stuff any time we’re out in public. It was so bad in the last place we lived that my parents decided to move.”

  “Really? We moved because my mom got a big promotion, and my parents said we couldn’t pass up the money.”

  Lucy sipped her drink. “Where does your mom work?”

  Idiot! If I could have kicked myself in the shin, I would have. Why had I brought up my mother? I blurted out, “At a college. How about your mom?”

  “She doesn’t work.” Lucy swirled her drink around in her cup. “Which college does your mom work at, and what does she do there?”

  I took a sip of my hot chocolate and launched into a fake coughing fit, holding up my hand as if I needed a moment. I grabbed a few napkins from the serving counter, hoping that if I stalled long enough, I could sidetrack her. I sat back down, patting my chest and clearing my throat. “Whew! Sorry about that.”