by Rachel Vail
“Taxes?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yeah,” I explained, sitting up and feeling very wise. “It’s money you have to pay the government so we can have wars and schools and bridges, stuff like that.”
“No, Justin,” Elizabeth said. “Taxes is the kind of car you take in New York City if you don’t have your own car. It’s also called a cabbage.”
“Well,” I said, trying not to laugh at her because of how wise I am, “why would they fight about that?”
“Exactly,” Elizabeth said. “Can I have a sleepover here?”
I let her. I even let her sleep on the Pillow of Honor. (Just her head.)
April 3, Saturday
Dad’s birthday!
Gingy and Poopsie and Elizabeth and I made him a cake while he and Mom worked at the store. Gingy planned a whole dinner of his favorite things so she sent me and Poopsie to the grocery store with a list.
Poopsie is an awesome person to go to the grocery store with. He buys more junk food than any adult I’ve ever met, even if it is not on the list, and when he can’t find something on the list, he hollers its name like it might hear and come running down the aisle and jump in the cart. “Tarragon! Where are you? Mustard seed, give me your hand, Monsieur Mustard Seed!”
He is a total nut. And then he let me get something from every machine at the exit, even though it cost $2.50 in coins and they were all what Mom calls CLTs (Crummy Little Toys). And he said I didn’t even have to share them with Elizabeth. They were all for me.
It wasn’t Disney or LEGOLAND. But I don’t think I could have had more fun anywhere.
April 4, Sunday
Dad’s party last night was excellent. He loved everything, all the food and presents and especially the cards made by Elizabeth and me.
Today we had an
Easter egg hunt at Montana C.’s house. There were, like, 40 kids there. Luckily she has a huge yard.
Unluckily, she has a trampoline.
Turns out, I no thank you trampolines.
April 5, Monday
Tomorrow is back to school.
Today is buy new shoes and some decent T-shirts without stains all over them for goodness’ sake and get a haircut.
I think they do this to kids so we will be relieved to get done with vacation.
April 6, Tuesday
Everybody noticed my haircut.
I was wishing for a hat.
But then I started noticing a lot of people had gotten haircuts, so when they said, “Got a haircut, Justin Case?” I said, “Yeah, you too?” And then we could both feel embarrassed.
Not Noah, though. His hair is still extremely large.
For homework we have to write a story about our vacation, but first we have to brainstorm ideas.
My brain stormed and stormed but nothing came to it.
My brain may be the type that takes a while to readjust to school.
I think Ms. Termini does not understand that kind of brain.
It is already three-quarters of the way through the school year and Ms. Termini still scares the jelly out of me. I guess Mom was wrong about what she said in September, that whole you’ll get used to Ms. Termini soon thing.
April 7, Wednesday
I am not faking.
And it’s not just that I am scared to walk Qwerty on my own. I totally am not scared; I just don’t enjoy being yanked around. Especially when I feel like my bones are already coming apart at the joints.
Which might be a horrible disease that should be looked at by a doctor, just in case emergency treatment is necessary.
My head hurts, and so does my everything else.
But the worst is swallowing.
I so wish I had Wingnut to cuddle.
April 8, Thursday
I stayed home from school. It would’ve been fun if I didn’t feel so lousy.
Mostly I just slept in the morning. Then we went to the doctor’s office. She gagged me with a Q-tip. She and Mom and I watched the plastic thing to see if a blue line came. One did. So Dr. Carroll said, “Congratulations, Justin! You’re pregnant!”
Well, that truly freaked me out. Pregnant? What the heck? I’m a boy, and also a kid! Pregnant?
I didn’t say anything, because I had too many questions in my head. Mom and Dr. Carroll laughed. Dr. Carroll said, “Just kidding, Justin. You have strep throat.”
“Oh,” I said.
Mom hugged me and held my hand as we walked out to the car.
It was just that I was out of it, because of being sick, Mom said. She and Dr. Carroll didn’t think I really thought I was pregnant.
The thing is, I kind of did.
April 9, Friday
I got to stay home again, even though I felt fine. The rule is if you have a fever one day you get to stay home the next, even if you feel great.
Mom and I watched a movie in the morning and then we had chicken noodle soup for lunch.
Then I got to play video games for a full hour plus.
All together it added up to more screen time than I usually get in a week.
Sometimes a person needs a day off, Mom said.
She might be the smartest woman in the world.
April 10, Saturday
I went to Little League, even though I still have so much more pink medicine to gulp down as fast as possible so I won’t have to taste it. Secretly I don’t actually hate the taste so horribly much but I am not telling Mom that because she lets me have a gummy worm after each dose to get rid of the disgusting taste.
That’s 20 free gummy worms for me.
My friends were happy to see me when I got out of the car at the field. They all yelled, “Justin Case! Justin Case!” and crowded around me until Mom finally said, “Okay, everybody, let go of Justin’s face, please.”
But then I struck out all four times I was up at bat.
So maybe they got over all that being so happy to see me stuff.
April 11, Sunday
We went to the farmers’ market. Bartholomew Wiggins and his family were there. Mom said Bartholomew and I could walk around a little ourselves, which made me feel proud to be so grown-up but also a little unhappy because Bartholomew Wiggins is kind of an annoying kid to be stuck with.
And that was even before he offered me free baseball advice.
What I didn’t say:
You are the only kid worse than me on our whole team, Bartholomew Wiggins.
What I did say:
Sure, I’d be happy to hear your advice.
What he advised:
Don’t swing when you’re at bat. You still might strike out, but sometimes you might get walked, and since you’re fast, you could even score.
What I said:
Good idea, thanks!
What I thought:
That actually is a good idea.
April 12, Monday
I handed in my What I Did on Vacation paper.
Ms. Termini said, “Welcome back, Justin,” but it sounded like she was thinking, I know you were actually not sick on Friday and just stayed home having way too much screen time.
Then at lunch I heard Montana B. and Montana C. talking about Daisy’s birthday party.
Which was yesterday.
Which I did not get invited to.
April 13, Tuesday
I couldn’t help it.
At recess I blurted out to Daisy, “How was your birthday party?” Her cheeks turned red and she said, “Fine, thank you.”
Maybe that was mean of me, but honestly, we really were best friends for a long time and she never didn’t invite me to her birthday party before. Today is her actual birthday but we are not in the same class so I didn’t even get a cupcake at the end of the day for it.
That made me feel very bad.
And at night, when I thought of it being her birthday, I didn’t call her.
And I didn’t make her a pop-up card. Just a plain one. Which I might not even give her in school tomorrow, or if I do I might just put it in her cubby in
stead of handing it to her personally.
Too bad if that’s nasty. I don’t even care.
Sometimes I imagine sending Daisy down to the Way-Back of the basement and her getting stuck behind The Boiler all by herself. That’s very mean, so I try not to do it except at my angriest moments.
Like today. Twice.
April 14, Wednesday
I am in such big trouble I can’t even think.
April 15, Thursday
What I did:
Let Qwerty out the back door again
What I was supposed to do:
Take him for a walk
What Qwerty did:
Ran away
What Mom did:
Yelled at me. Then closed her eyes and walked away from me.
What Dad did:
Went all around the neighborhood with me, shouting, “Qwerty! Qwerty!”
What Elizabeth did:
Cried
What I wish I could do:
Turn back the clock
What I do too much:
Lose things
What I miss:
Qwerty
April 16, Friday
I was asleep, or maybe I was only half asleep, when I heard Bad Boy outside my window, and then at the front door. I heard his big heavy boots scraping on the front porch, and his long nails scratching the lock of the door. I knew he’d be inside my house in a few seconds, not long enough for me to get to Mom and Dad even though I was on the lower bunk. I was doomed, and I knew it. I scrambled to the corner of my bed, shaking, crying.
Then I heard a growl. Demons? Wolves? I was wide-awake by then. Another growl. My heart was trying to escape my body.
A bark. Then another.
What was going on?
The next thing I heard sounded kind of like a baby crying.
I am, like, the least brave person in the world, but seriously, a baby? How could even a bad guy named Bad Boy hurt a baby? On my front porch?
Without getting my thoughts together or my slippers on, I tumbled out of bed and was down the stairs and opening the front door before the thought hit me that Mom and Dad should be handling this, not me. But it was too late. The door was open only a crack before I got shoved back by a wet, smelly, muddy mess.
Qwerty was back!
I was so happy to see him I forgot to be scared of him, or quiet. I guess I was yelling his name, because Mom and Dad and Elizabeth were suddenly up and in the living room with us, everybody rubbing sleepy eyes and matted dog fur at the same time.
“What happened to you, Qwerty?” Mom asked him, and that’s when I noticed: Qwerty had sticks poking out of his face, maybe 30 or 35 of them.
“You look like an hors d’oeuvre, pal,” Dad said.
“Looks like he made friends with a porcupine,” Mom said.
I started to freak out just a little at that, because, poor Qwerty, and it was all my fault, and what if a porcupine’s quills are poisonous to a dog?
“He’ll be okay,” Mom said. “It will be a long night for us, and especially for him, but he’ll be okay. Everything will be okay,” she said, and she wrapped her arms around me and held me tight while Dad and Elizabeth did the same thing with Qwerty.
“It’s all my fault,” I admitted.
“Everybody makes mistakes,” Mom whispered back. “I’m sorry I was so hard on you about letting him out.”
“No,” I said. “You were right to be.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” she said, and we both wiped our eyes at the same time, which made us smile. “But I do know it takes courage to admit it when you’re wrong.”
I shrugged, because courage is one thing I know I do not have.
Dad, meanwhile, was working one of the quills out of Qwerty’s face. Qwerty sat very still except for quivering a bit, and looked very trustingly into Dad’s eyes the whole time. When the quill came free, we all told Qwerty what a good, brave dog he was.
Qwerty looked kind of unsure, but grateful.
There were 34 quills in all. By the end, we were all hugging Qwerty and stroking his filthy fur.
Even me.
April 17, Saturday
Luckily it’s the weekend.
We were all exhausted. Especially Qwerty.
But he went to the vet’s anyway, for a checkup (he’s fine) and a bath (he smells a whole lot better).
I walked him by myself this afternoon. Boy, did I hold that leash tight.And Qwerty hardly yanked me at all.
Maybe we’re both growing up.
Or at least getting used to each other.
Mom and Dad talked to a guy about having a fence put up around our yard so sometimes Qwerty can be out there and run around not on his leash.
April 18, Sunday
This morning I woke up to stinky breath on my face, and I thought, with my eyes still closed, Wingnut?
Then I opened my eyes and saw Qwerty staring at me, wagging his huge windshield-wiper tail—but not jumping up on my bed.
I had slept on the lower bunk not because I was afraid of falling off the top but just in case Qwerty got scared or lonely or had a bad dream about porcupines and needed some company.
I actually am being honest.
We stared at each other.
“You kissed a porcupine,” I whispered to him.
He kind of whined a little, like he felt foolish about it.
I wasn’t sure what to say then, because I didn’t want to make him feel stupider about that choice, and I appreciated that he didn’t seem to blame me for my part in the fiasco. So instead of saying anything I reached out my hand for him to smell.
He put his cheek down on my palm and rested it there.
Then he ran out of my room because Dad was jangling his leash, ready to go for a run. I stayed in bed and smiled.
April 19, Monday
The bad thing about relay races in gym:
People chanting your nickname, “Justin Case,” while you run
The good things about relay races in gym:
They are not rope climbing, which is our next unit
Winning (which my team did)
April 20, Tuesday
For Earth Day Thursday, we have to write haikus. Haikus are about nature. A haiku that is not about nature is what a senryu is, it turns out, and that is apparently not what we are writing.
Mittens are not “nature,” so anybody who wrote a nice haiku about a mitten that got lost actually wrote a senryu and had to start over, even though it was my best poem ever.
This is my stinky haiku:
Dandelions rock
They polka-dot the green grass
For decoration
April 21, Wednesday
I know a polka-dot is not nature.
But dandelions are, and so is grass.
And so is rock, even though not how I used it.
That’s three nature things. But still I got a “see me.” That’s what I am going to say to Ms. Termini. I am going to say, Yeah, but I used three nature things, and you never said there can’t be anything that’s not nature. In the example you read us, Ms. Termini, there was a “the.” “The” is not part of nature. “The” is . . . Hmm. What the heck is “the”?
How can I be in third grade and not know what “the” is?
No, I am not going to freak out. I am totally going to stand up for myself, maybe. I am just going to avoid admitting that I don’t know what “the” is. If possible.
April 22, Thursday
She didn’t ask me what “the” means. Luckily. But that wasn’t even the best news.
The “see me” was because my haiku was chosen.
I wrote the Haiku of the Class.
Which meant I had to read it at the assembly in front of the whole school, along with all the other kids who wrote the Haiku of their Class. Like Daisy. And Elizabeth.
Daisy’s haiku:
Hills in the distance
Soaking up the setting sun
Another day ends
Elizabet
h’s haiku:
Dog poop is stinky
But it is good for the soil
Just watch where you step!
April 23, Friday
Elizabeth got the most applause of anybody in the school for her haiku.
I was a little jealous but a lot proud.
Especially that my formerly shy little sister would say the word poop in front of the whole school.
Mom hung both our haikus on the fridge.
She said she never realized she was raising a couple of poets.
April 24, Saturday
I took Bartholomew Wiggins’s advice at Little League.
I just stood there at the plate and didn’t move my bat at all.
The first two ups I struck out, but I usually do that anyway, so no big deal. I am used to that long trudge back to the bench.
But on my third time up, an amazing thing happened.
I got a walk!
I didn’t trudge back to the bench! I ran to first base!
It was my best-ever day of Little League, even though Carlos popped up and I never made it to second.
All thanks to Bartholomew Wiggins.
What Dad said: “Way to wait for your pitch, Justin!”
What he did: put his arm around my shoulder as we walked to the car after the game.
When we got home the fence around our yard was just about done. We all hung out back there, even Qwerty, and Dad grilled burgers for dinner. It was a great day.
Sometimes life is just perfect.
April 25, Sunday
We have relay races again in gym tomorrow.
