“Maybe not that kind of stuff. I may not have tics, but I still have to deal with people staring at me and treating me like I’m different.”
“Yeah, but you don’t call attention to yourself. I think I’d give up my arms to get rid of my Tourette’s.”
“Don’t say that,” I said. “I like you just the way you are.”
“Really?” Connor gave me a skeptical look.
“Yep. Tics and all.”
By late fall, the weather was finally starting to cool down to a comfortable temperature. I had read every single tarantula book from the Desert Ridge Middle School library, the Phoenix Library, and the box we’d found in the storage shed. I now knew terrifying things about tarantulas—like that a type of wasp called a tarantula hawk would sting and paralyze a tarantula, then lay its egg on it and seal the tarantula up in a burrow. Once the wasp grub hatched, it would feed on the tarantula meat. Gack. I couldn’t wait to use that information to shock someone—I even blogged about it.
I had written several more posts on my blog—mostly stuff about the park, school, tarantulas, and how I do things without arms. Pretty random stuff—so I called my blog Aven’s Random Thoughts. Anyway, it wasn’t about anything terribly exciting, but I had gained a few more followers. Zion now commented pretty regularly on my posts, and Emily still made her usual “LOL” and “I miss you” remarks from time to time, though I hadn’t seen any comments from my other friends in Kansas for at least a week.
Dad and I practiced soccer in the arena together early on weekend mornings when it was cool outside. It was wonderful to feel a chill in the air again, but every weekend I felt less and less enthusiastic about getting out of bed to go out there. I think Dad must have noticed my waning interest. He found an old tuba somewhere at the park, and he came into my room one morning, played horrible screeching sounds on the tuba, then announced, “All hail Aven Laura Green, future queen of the Desert Ridge Middle School soccer team!” I smothered my face with a pillow and told him there was no such thing as a queen in soccer. The next weekend he played the tuba and announced, “All hail Aven Laura Green, future emperor of the Desert Ridge Middle School soccer team!” And the weekend after that: “All hail Aven Laura Green, future world dictator of the Desert Ridge Middle School soccer team!”
Dad said the snakes would be hibernating now, so after we practiced soccer, I would hike up the hill behind Stagecoach Pass. I liked being able to look down on the park and the rest of the city, and I liked visiting my giant saguaro.
I spent most of the time on the hill looking for tarantulas and collecting quartz rocks (I had quite the collection going at home). I wore a loose, open bag around my neck so I could easily drop the rocks in with my toes.
Most of the kids at school were now ignoring me completely. I guess they were used to seeing me around by now, so I wasn’t getting any more shocked looks. It was more like I just didn’t exist.
I sat next to my giant saguaro awhile looking down at poor old Billy and Fred, endlessly hauling kids around the dirt trail. I thought it might be time for them to retire to the petting zoo. I wondered if we could replace them with a little train like one I had seen in a mall.
Now that the weather was cooling down, business had picked up a bit, but my parents told me it was barely enough to keep the park running and cover all the repairs that were building up.
I stood and walked around to the back side of the hill, hoping to find some new rocks. A strand of something dark caught my eye. I slipped my foot out of my flat, grabbed it with my toes, and tried to pick it up. It was connected to something in the ground and wouldn’t come loose. I put my flat back on and started kicking at the dirt, trying to unearth whatever was under there.
Eventually, I loosened enough dirt to get the strand free. I laid it out on the ground and studied it—it was caked with dirt, but I could tell it had once been a necklace with a polished turquoise stone set into a dark metal. I lifted it with my toes and slipped it into my bag. I rushed home to call Connor and tell him what I’d found. After all, we’d seen that necklace before.
Connor, Zion, and I sat outside on the lawn together before school, waiting for the first bell to ring. Connor studied the necklace while Zion flipped gently through the fragile sketchbook. Every now and then a brittle piece of paper would flake off, and we’d all gasp. Zion finally found the page that had the sketch of the necklace. “That’s definitely it,” he said.
Connor held the necklace up. “The metal is nearly black and in the sketch it’s light gray.”
“My mom told me that’s because it’s tarnished silver,” I said. “Look at the shape of the stone and that little vein running through it. It’s definitely the same.”
“But why was it up on the hill?” Connor asked, then barked.
I shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Zion looked from me to Connor and back again, his eyes huge with alarm. “What?” I asked him. He covered his mouth and shook his head, like what he was thinking was too terrible to say. “What?” I said again.
“Dead body,” Zion whispered.
Connor and I looked at each other. “I don’t know,” I said.
“What other explanation could there be?” said Zion. “Someone murdered this necklace-wearing person and buried her body up on the hill. Why else would it be up there?”
Connor looked at me wide-eyed. “Rodeo clown mafia,” he said and snickered.
I shook my head at him and tried to remain serious. “I spend a lot of time up on that hill, and I’ve never seen any sign of a grave or anything.”
“It could have happened a long time ago,” Zion said. “Maybe bushes and cactuses and stuff have grown over it. I’ve heard a dead body makes good fertilizer.”
Connor and I laughed. “That’s so gross,” I said. “Where could you have possibly heard that?”
Zion scratched at his chin. “I think I read it in a comic book.”
“Oh, then it’s definitely true,” I said. Zion tore a handful of grass out of the ground and threw it at me. I shook my hair out. “I guess there could be a dead body up there, but you’d think I’d feel all creepy when I was up there if there was. Like I’d feel a chill or a shudder or a . . . ” I thought for a moment. “Or a tremble!”
Connor smiled and barked. Then, almost immediately, we heard another bark from a nearby crowd.
Connor’s face dropped. I turned and glared at the group of kids standing near us. Several of them were covering their smiles with their hands as they snuck glances at us.
I turned back to Connor. “You shouldn’t put up with that.”
Connor’s shoulders slumped. “What am I supposed to do about it?”
Normally, I would never want to call attention to myself. But there are times when my temper overwhelms my desire to go unnoticed.
I stood up and shouted at the group, “Whoever’s doing that, it’s not nice! You should be ashamed of yourself!”
I sat back down on the ground with a “humph!” Connor and Zion looked shocked at my behavior. “There,” I said. “That’s what you should do.”
Connor and I ate lunch with Zion behind the office most days now. Connor still hardly ate anything, but he took a bite from time to time. Sometimes he’d spit his food, but he always tried to aim at the brick wall. Every now and then, though, Zion and I would have to do some serious ninja blocks when a pretzel or grape flew at our heads.
I sat with the boys on the sidewalk by the office as Zion said, “I think I might audition for The Wizard of Oz.” He blushed so hard, I could see the red coloring his brown cheeks.
“Oh yeah, what part?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “I dunno.”
I thought for a moment. “You would make a good . . . lion.”
He frowned. “Because I’m so fat.”
“No, because you need to find your courage.” I nudged him with my foot. “I’m only half serious.”
He smiled. “Have you guys ever done anything like that?”
“What? Auditioned for a play?” Connor asked
“Yeah.”
Connor looked at Zion like he was crazy. “Yeah, right,” he said.
I frowned at Connor. “You’d probably be a good actor,” I said.
“The only part I could ever play,” Connor said to me, “would be the part of an annoying, yappy dog.”
I didn’t know what else to say about that, so I told them, “My school back in Kansas held this playwright contest in sixth grade. Anyone could submit their own ideas, plot, and script for a play. The winner got to have their play produced. I submitted the most awesome script of all time. Wait for it,” I said dramatically. “Down and Dirty in Kansas City.”
Zion snorted and a little of his juice box came out his nose. He wiped it away. “What was that about?”
I cleared my throat. “Down and Dirty in Kansas City is the story of a completely awesome ninja named Harold who lives in Kansas City and fights criminals with the help of his trusty pig named Jerold. So Harold and Jerold are this crime-fighting duo who stop a gang of criminals from robbing a bank. They also fall in love. Not with each other. With a beautiful vixen lady and a lady pig. The play ends in a double-wedding for Harold and Jerold and their partners.”
Connor giggled and Zion choked on a little more juice box.
“The climax of the play,” I continued, “was supposed to be when Harold and Jerold finally face off with the main villain,” I tossed my hair back, “played by me. And the exciting battle to the death ends in Harold and Jerold ripping my arms off and blood splattering everywhere while I drop dead to the floor.” I had thought we could borrow those fake arms again from Emily’s mom.
“Did you win?” Zion asked.
“I totally didn’t win. Plus we had to have a meeting with my parents. They had read my play already and thought it rocked, so they were a little confused about the whole thing. I tuned out most of the meeting, but I believe the words gruesome and horrifying may have been said.
“Anyway, this kid named Luke won the contest. His play was called Desert Moon over the Desert. I found the title redundant, but I guess the judges thought his work was spectacularly creative. What can you expect from the same people who thought Down and Dirty in Kansas City was a stinker?”
“Really,” Connor agreed. “What was his play about?”
“Desert Moon over the Desert was about a moon—seriously—that looks down over the desert—I’m not kidding—and falls in love with a coyote—I’m totally serious. And the coyote falls in love with the moon. Of course the moon and the coyote can never be together, so the coyote howls and howls and eventually befriends a cactus and everything turns out all right.”
“Were you in it?” Zion asked.
“Yeah, I played the cactus. My costume was this drab green, so I wasn’t bright enough on stage. We had to spray the whole thing down with sparkle spray paint. We had this giant paper moon on the stage with lights behind it, so I was all sparkly and shiny from the light of the moon. It was pretty cool.
“I loved being up on stage, but I had the most ridiculous lines. I still remember them.” I recited my lines just as I had done in the play. “Coyote, the moon is many miles away, but I am here on Earth with you. Coyote, my new friend, don’t prick yourself on my needles when you give me a friendly hug. Coyote, if you were ever thirsting to death, I would give my life that you may drink my treasured cactus juice.”
Zion giggled. “That’s awful.”
“I’m sure you’ll have way better lines in The Wizard of Oz,” I said.
“Gosh, I hope so.”
“No, really. You’ll love it. When the play ended and everyone clapped and cheered for us, I felt like I could do anything. I even thought maybe I could have a career as an actress.”
“Why couldn’t you?” Connor asked.
I gaped at the boys. “How many limbless movie stars do you know?”
Neither one of them said anything. I shook my head and looked at Connor. “By the way, Mom said I could come home with you after school and she’d pick me up before dinner.”
“Really?” His face brightened. “I thought you weren’t allowed to go to anyone’s house where they didn’t know the parents.”
“My mom said it’s okay since she knows you, and your mom works so much and sleeps in the evening. I guess my mom can’t really get a good chance to meet her with all that’s going on. She is going to be home after school, right?”
Connor shrugged and barked. “Yeah, she’ll be home sleeping. She worked a twelve-hour shift last night.”
“Has she ever thought about trying to get shifts during the day?” I asked.
“She has to take what she can get right now,” Connor said. “And this job pays well.” He looked at Zion. “You want to come over, too?”
Zion shook his head. “Dentist appointment.” He grimaced.
“The next support group meeting is coming up,” I told Connor.
“Support group meeting?” Zion asked.
Connor grinned. “Don’t you mean social event, Aven?”
I glared at Connor while I spoke to Zion. “It’s just a little group that meets at the hospital every month.”
“Sorry, Zion,” Connor said. “For freaks only.”
“Hey!” I cried. “No one there is a freak. Especially not you.”
Connor blinked his eyes, shrugged, and barked. “If you say so, Aven.”
I let out a loud breath. “Anyway, my mom’s already planning on taking us.”
Connor raised his eyebrows. “Such peer pressure. I guess I have to go in that case.”
“Yes, you do.”
Connor let me into the small two-bedroom apartment he shared with his mom. I scanned the room and noted the sparse furnishings—a three-person couch, a small coffee table, side table, and lamp. No pictures hung on the walls, and I saw a couple of unopened boxes stacked in one corner. “How long have you two been here again?” I asked.
“A little over a year,” Connor said. “I know. Mom works a lot and hasn’t had a whole lot of time to decorate or anything. Plus we hope we aren’t going to be here forever.”
I tried not to look too sad for Connor when I told him, “I hope so, too.”
Connor barked as we unloaded our bags onto the small kitchen table. It only had two chairs. Just then, a bedraggled-looking blonde woman wearing a nightgown and a robe emerged from a small hallway. “You home, baby?” she said. Then she noticed me. She looked both surprised and embarrassed as she pulled her robe closed and tightened the belt. “Oh,” she breathed. “You brought a friend home.”
“Mom, this is Aven.”
She glanced briefly at my torso. “Hi, Aven. I’m sorry I’m not more presentable for you.”
“That’s okay,” I said to try to ease her embarrassment. “Connor told me you had to work all night.”
She gazed at Connor. “Yeah . . . I was just coming out to tell him there’s a bowl of macaroni and cheese in the fridge for him to heat up for dinner. I’m sorry I don’t have more—”
“No, that’s okay,” I said before she could finish.
“Mom, Aven just came over for a couple of hours to play video games. Her mom will be picking her up before dinner.”
Connor’s mom looked so embarrassed about the situation that I felt bad Connor hadn’t been able to give her some kind of warning about me coming over. “I’m sorry for the surprise, Mrs. Bradley. I’m happy to finally meet you.”
“I’m happy to meet you, too, Aven. It’s nice to see Connor with a friend. Perhaps you can come over again on another day when I’m a little bit more myself.”
“Oh yeah, I’d love to.” I don’t know what got into me, but then I said to her, “And maybe you can come to the next Tourette’s support meeting with us.”
Connor jerked his head at me, and I immediately realized she knew nothing about it—something I think I had already suspected. Her eyes were large with surprise. “Tourette’s support meeting?” she said slowly.<
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Connor shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, Aven and I went to a support meeting one day while you were working.”
“Connor, I wish you would tell me about these things.” Her eyebrows furrowed together. “How did you get there?”
“Aven’s mom drove us.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, noticing the look of concern on her face. “We’re not, like, a psycho family or anything. We’re totally normal, except for . . . ” I motioned toward my shoulders with my head. “But my parents had nothing to do with that.”
She gave me a tired smile. “I’m sure your family is lovely.” She turned her attention back to Connor. “I’m happy you’re going to a support group, baby. Just . . . when Aven’s mom comes to pick her up, I’d like to meet her, please.”
Connor nodded. She went to him and kissed the top of his head. “I’m going back to sleep. Could you wake me up in a little bit so I can make myself more presentable?” Connor nodded again. Then she walked back down the small hallway and disappeared into a dark bedroom.
I turned to Connor. “Your mom’s nice. I don’t know why—”
He cut me off. “I wish you hadn’t told her about the support group. She doesn’t have time to go, and now she’ll just feel bad about it.”
“Why don’t you at least give her a chance to decide what she wants to do?”
“She doesn’t need any more stress than she already has,” he said.
“I don’t think the support group would stress her out. I’m sure she’s more stressed out not knowing what’s going on with you.”
“She’s better off without having to deal with me.”
I suddenly saw things so clearly. It wasn’t at all that Connor’s mom couldn’t stand him, as he had said. It was that Connor couldn’t stand himself. He blamed himself for all his mom’s problems—his dad leaving, this tiny apartment, her hectic work schedule. I knew he felt it was all his fault. But from what I’d just seen, I strongly doubted she felt the same way. “Connor, she’s your mom. She doesn’t deal with you. She loves you. Why don’t you let her—”
Insignificant Events in the Life of a Cactus Page 9
