Stanly zipped Miren into her favorite Stripy Pony jacket, and they all went outside to look at the thing that was not a tree. For once, he wasn’t annoyed at having Miren along. Jaxon took a sketch pad and a measuring tape from his coat pocket and started to take notes.
“The arms do kind of look like branches,” Stanly said, tilting his head up at the skeleton. Bony arms stretched toward the sky, skull bent back. Like he was waiting for it to rain.
“I can almost see his ankles,” Jaxon said, shaking his head and counting the fence slats under his breath while he drew.
As he said it, the bones scooted out of the earth another inch. Jaxon squeezed his pencil so hard the lead broke. Stanly gasped and Miren clapped her hands by his ear. Stanly pulled her into his lap to keep her from racing around and knocking over the tank. Which was pretty painful, since she was almost eight and, ironically, had a super-bony butt.
“You know, I guess it is like a tree,” Jaxon said after a long silence. His voice sounded like he’d just finished running a ten-mile race. “The Darby Brothers would never believe you have a skeleton growing in your backyard, Stanly, and I don’t think I do, either. And I’m looking right at it.”
“The Darby Brothers aren’t real,” Stanly said.
Jaxon didn’t say anything for a while, and then he tossed his notebook aside and shoved a peanut butter cookie in his mouth. “I give up. No matter how many notes I take, no one is ever going to believe this.” He shook his head, like he was responding to a question no one had asked. “I wonder why it’s here. I mean, skeletons don’t just show up and—”
Miren coughed a piece of cookie onto her shoe. She clutched her chest and kept coughing until a string of yellow spittle dribbled out of her mouth. Stanly wiped it away. He didn’t gag, not even a little, but Miren still started to cry. The tears came in great waves that shook her entire body.
“Should I go get Ms. Francine?” Jaxon said.
“I can handle it,” said Stanly. He patted her shoulder and pushed back her hair. He even did the Donald Duck voice that always made her laugh. Nothing worked.
“Maybe I should go get Ms. Francine. Just in case.”
“No, I got it.” Stanly had always been the only one who could cheer Miren up when she felt sick.
Something click-clacked behind him. He turned around to see two gaping black eye sockets staring down at him. The skeleton held up a finger, like it had just gotten an idea. Then it started to dance.
It moved slowly at first, swaying its bottom and waving its arms. Then it knocked its knees together and bobbed its head. Music tinkled in Stanly’s ears, but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
Miren wiped the tears from her face and her mouth dropped open. She watched the skeleton twirl his arms and slap out a beat on his thigh bones. Her face split into a grin when he stuck out his bottom and bopped it up and down to the mysterious beat.
“Come on, Stanly,” she said, some of her energy returning. “Time to dance!”
Stanly didn’t know what to do. Maybe Jaxon was right. A skeleton couldn’t grow in a garden, and it definitely couldn’t dance. But here it was, doing both things at once. Maybe he was hallucinating, like those guys in the movies who see lush rivers in the middle of the desert, only to find out they’re not really there.
“Dance, Bony-Butt, come on. Please!”
Arms numb, Stanly helped Miren up, and they kind of rocked side to side. It wasn’t exactly dancing, but it was the best he could do with the tubes tying her down to her tank.
“Oh, here.” Jaxon sighed, like he couldn’t believe what he was about to do. He picked up her tank, so that Miren could move more freely.
And that was how it happened. Stanly, Jaxon, and Miren, all dancing together with a skeleton that probably didn’t exist. They danced until the tears dried on Miren’s cheeks and Stanly’s arms burned from holding so much of her weight.
When his arms turned to Jell-O and he couldn’t hold her up one more second, Stanly set Miren down, and she fell back on the grass, giggling. The tinkling music faded away, and the skeleton went still. Stanly and Jaxon sank onto the grass, too, only they weren’t giggling. They were staring at each other, one more perplexed than the other.
The two boys sat like that in stillness, listening to Miren go on about how much fun she had dancing with Princy, until Jaxon’s mom finally came to pick him up.
“Bye,” Jaxon managed. He chewed his lower lip. “Stanly, maybe it’s time you told someone about the skeleton. You know, a real grown-up, not Ms. Francine.”
Stanly didn’t answer. What could he say? Jaxon knew his mom couldn’t see the skeleton, and he doubted any other grown-ups could, either. Which meant there was no point in telling, and probably—his heart sank—no hope for winning the contest. Even if he could upload another shot, who would believe him? The people online already thought the whole thing was a hoax.
“Come inside, little ones,” Ms. Francine called after Jaxon had left. “Time to eat tea. And surprise, I ordered pizza for dinner. It’s no borsch, but what can I do?”
They ate pizza and more cookies. Even though it was delicious, Stanly had a hard time swallowing. Ms. Francine told them stories about her goat, Bakyt, and how they’d taught him to juggle one summer to make extra money. For once, Stanly was happy to listen to her. It meant he didn’t have to talk or think about what had just happened.
After he’d helped Ms. Francine rinse the dishes, he went to tuck Miren into bed.
“Sweet dreams, Mir-Bear.” He kissed her forehead. It tasted like grass and cookies.
“Stanly,” Miren said. “I want to see Princy dance at my birthday party. By then I’ll feel better and I won’t have my stupid tank and I can really dance.”
“His name isn’t Princy,” Stanly said.
“But can he dance at my party? I want Ashleigh to see him, and Stripy Pony, and maybe Uncle Morris. Also my friends from school. They’ll be so surprised their heads will probably fall off.”
Stanly hadn’t considered what would happen on Saturday, when everybody came over to the house for Miren’s party. A bubble of greasy pepperoni pizza gurgled up the back of his throat.
“I don’t know, Mir-Bear. We’ll have to see.”
“Okay, ’night Stanly.”
He turned out the lights and padded to the back window. The skeleton glowed in the pale moonlight. Inside, a metal clamp pinched Stanly’s stomach, and it wasn’t just about the contest. He couldn’t explain why, but a tiny part of him didn’t want anyone else to know about the skeleton, not anymore. If Uncle Morris and everybody saw it, that would mean it was real … really real … and everything that had happened since the skeleton had started to grow was real, too. Like the oxygen tank and Miren going to the hospital.
He blinked, and dark clouds passed overhead, hiding the skeleton from view. No, he was being stupid. The skeleton didn’t have anything to do with Miren getting sick; how could it? Besides, if he won the contest, there was a chance Dad would decide to come home, and that was what Miren really needed. She’d never been this sick when Dad was here. Mom tried her best, but without Dad the three of them were like a hot air balloon without a pilot. Floating higher and higher into the clouds until the balloon came apart and they were just scraps of old fabric drifting on the wind.
On Saturday morning, the day of Miren’s party, Ms. Francine baked lemon cupcakes while Stanly blew up balloons. Stanly and Jaxon had spent the whole week thinking of another way to get a camera, but so far they hadn’t come up with one. Jaxon had even used his allowance money to buy an old-school disposable camera, but when they got the pictures developed the next day, all they’d captured were blurry white streaks.
The situation was desperate. Today was the last day to edit entries. The night before, Jaxon had uploaded some of his charts and sketches, but they weren’t as good as a photograph. They’d fallen to number three in the rankings, behind some kid in Indiana who’d discovered an ancient arthropod fossil and a girl
in Idaho who claimed to have uncovered a foot-long piece of dinosaur poop.
“Why so many worry lines, little Stanly? Everything will be ready by party time,” said Ms. Francine, sneaking up on him. “Boys nowadays. If you aren’t careful, you’ll look like an old man by the time you’re twenty.”
Stanly shook his head and blew hard into a cotton candy–colored balloon. Ms. Francine didn’t know anything. The party was the least of his worries.
Miren was spending the day at a friend’s house so she wouldn’t see the decorations before the party. Jaxon came over after breakfast and helped Stanly hang yellow streamers and place rubber skeletons all over the polka-dot tablecloth.
“Don’t talk to me, then.” Ms. Francine swatted a hand at him. “Who needs you when I have my cupcakes to talk to.”
When she was gone, Jaxon leaned in. “How’s Princy today?”
Stanly threw a skeleton at Jaxon’s face. It slapped the side of his nose and stuck there.
“Hey, what was that for?”
“His name isn’t Princy,” Stanly said, not bothering to keep his voice down. What was the point? Ms. Francine already knew everything.
“Then what is it?”
“He doesn’t have one.”
They hung the Stripy Pony piñata in front of the fireplace and set out Miren’s presents on the hall table.
“What’d you get her?” Stanly said, eying the pink-and-purple sack Jaxon pulled from his backpack.
“The complete beginner’s set of Darby Brothers’ mysteries, numbers one through five.”
“She’ll love it,” Stanly said.
“I know what sarcasm is, Stanly, I’m not stupid. Anyway, I also got her a model skeleton. The plastic kind with squishy organs inside.”
Stanly wished he’d thought of that. “Hey, do you smell something?”
Stanly and Jaxon peeked into the kitchen just as Ms. Francine was frosting a batch of puffy lemon cupcakes.
“No fingers!” she shouted, but it was too late. Stanly had already swiped a gob of frosting from the top of the nearest cupcake. She shooed them outside with her spatula, and both boys fell on the grass, laughing.
“Wow, she’s serious about her cupcakes,” Jaxon said.
“In Kyrgyzstan, you can probably buy eleven goats for a single cupcake.”
“Doubtful, I’m pretty sure the economic situation there is pretty similar to—oh, right, sarcasm.”
Stanly stood up and dusted off his jeans. “Hey, check out the skeleton formerly known as Princy.”
“What?”
“Never mind, just come over here. He’s out of the ground.” Stanly ran up to the foot of the skeleton. “I can even see his toes.”
“He looks like he’s going somewhere,” Jaxon said. “Or getting ready to run a marathon.”
Jaxon was right; the skeleton seemed to have frozen mid-stride. “He reminds me of one of those explorer guys, setting off on some big adventure.” Stanly had seen a picture of a famous explorer once, venturing across the arctic steppe. He’d had the same expression on his face, fear and wonder and anticipation all mixed into one.
“Yeah, I guess. Ooh, do you think we can make him dance again?” Jaxon said. He didn’t look so scared anymore after their impromptu dance party.
“I don’t know.” Stanly tapped carefully on one of his ribs. It sent vibrations down the entire skeleton that reverberated in Stanly’s finger. “Maybe he doesn’t like to be ordered around.”
“That makes sense,” Jaxon said. Now Jaxon was the one being sarcastic.
They stood back and stared at the thing that had grown from a tiny finger into a full-fledged skeleton in a matter of days. Looking at it made the breath get all thick and sticky in Stanly’s throat. This was what he’d wanted, for the skeleton to come out of the ground so he could use it to win the contest. But discoveries weren’t supposed to happen this way. Bones didn’t dig themselves up, at least not normal ones.
Ms. Francine kept calling it a tree, and maybe that made some kind of sense, but it didn’t look like that to Stanly. Trees were natural. They didn’t carry around creepy blades or wear black hoods or wink at people in photographs.
And skeletons were supposed to stay underground, buried, where they belonged.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” said Jaxon. His expression had changed from one of fear, when he’d looked at the skeleton before, to one of admiration. “We have to find a way to get a picture now that we can see the whole specimen.”
“He’s not a specimen,” Stanly said. “And the deadline is midnight tonight. It’s hopeless.” Stanly never thought those words would come out of his mouth, but now that he’d said them, they lodged like rocks in the back of his throat and made it impossible to swallow.
“Then what is he? If he’s not a specimen?” said Jaxon.
Stanly shrugged; Jaxon was missing the point. “I don’t know, all I’m saying is specimens don’t dance.”
Stanly stood on his tiptoes and peered into the skeleton’s eye sockets. He looked down and down, and could have looked down some more, except a shiver crackled up his spine and into his palms, and he decided it wouldn’t do any good to look more closely. He’d made the greatest discovery of anyone in the contest—he was sure of it—but now no one would ever know.
“Excuse me, is this the Stanwright residence? I’m here to deliver … whoa.”
Stanly spun around to see a boy in a bright blue uniform gaping at him through the back door.
The boy went all fish-eyed and stumbled into the doorframe. “What the—I mean, dude, is that a real skeleton?”
“Um … ” said Stanly.
“Well, the thing is … ” Jaxon explained.
“What should we do?” Stanly whispered in Jaxon’s ear, a hummingbird pounding out a beat inside his chest.
“Okay, let me think … If we were James and Oliver Darby, how would we … ”
“Hey, can I touch it?” The pizza boy had started across the lawn when a booming voice stopped him.
“There you are, Mr. Pizza Man. I see you met Hector, our model skeleton.” Ms. Francine stomped over and stood in the pizza boy’s path. “A prop, you know, like from the movies. For the little girl’s party. It is Halloween, after all.” Stanly nodded vigorously. Ms. Francine folded some bills into the boy’s hands, but he never took his eyes off the skeleton. “Here you go, and keep the change.”
The boy still didn’t move, so Ms. Francine swatted his shoulder. “Go on already. Are you a pizza delivery boy or a statue? Get, get!”
Stanly couldn’t help laughing at the sight of Ms. Francine chasing the pizza boy out of the house with her spatula. But he was also worried.
“Do you think he’ll tell anyone?”
“About Princy? No way. Who would believe him?”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Just like the people online who’d said his discovery was a hoax.
Ms. Francine clucked her tongue at them when she came back outside. “I hope you two have plans for him … ” She waved a hand at the skeleton. “… for today, I mean. You can’t parade him about like he’s a carnival sideshow. You need to think creatively.” She slammed the door and went back to frosting her cupcakes.
“She’s right,” Stanly said. “He might look like a Halloween decoration, but what if he moves? And what if people start asking questions? You know how good Miren is at keeping secrets.”
“But she’s not—oh, right.”
“Exactly. We have to cover him up, at least until after the party. But how?”
Jaxon sketched out some ideas, and finally they came up with the perfect way to disguise the skeleton. The metal clamp in Stanly’s stomach loosened, just a little. If they could hide him until everyone went home, then find a way to get a new picture, they still had a chance at the contest.
“What if he doesn’t like being covered up?” Jaxon said as he twirled yellow streamers around the skull.
“He was underground until a few days ago,
” said Stanly. “I don’t think he’ll mind.”
“Oh yeah, you’re probably right.”
Once the skeleton was wound up like a lemon-flavored mummy, Stanly and Jaxon went into the garage to cut out a huge cardboard circle. Jaxon painted it orange, red, and green.
“There.” Stanly taped the circle to the top of the skeleton. “Now he looks like a giant lollipop. Nobody will ever know the difference.”
“And if he moves?” Jaxon said.
“We’ll just say it’s the wind. That should work. Right?”
Both boys spun around as the doorbell rang.
“I sure hope so,” Jaxon said. “Because we just ran out of time.”
Uncle Morris trundled in carrying a package so big he had to go through the door sideways.
“Stan the Man! How goes it? And Jaxon with an x, right? Funny name. Hey, help me get this package on the table.” Uncle Morris’s cheeks had gone red above his bristly beard.
“I don’t think it’ll fit, Uncle Morris,” Stanly said. The package was bigger than the table. “Maybe you should put it in the living room.”
“What’s in there anyway?” Jaxon said.
Uncle Morris heaved the package onto the carpet and collapsed into an armchair. As he did, something thin and silver fell out of his pocket and caught between the chair cushions. Stanly’s eyes met Jaxon’s. It was a phone—he was sure of it.
“I could tell you,” he said in his best arch-villain voice, “but then I’d have to kill you!”
“Nobody says that anymore.” Stanly looked at Jaxon, who nodded. In his mind, he was already thinking of ways to make Uncle Morris move so he could get to the phone.
“No? Oh well.” He threw up his hands. “Then I guess I’ll tell you, but no blabbing. Got it?”
“Got it,” Stanly said.
“Okay, it’s an official Stripy Pony mini motorized convertible, complete with tail brush.”
“Tail brush?” Jaxon said.
“Yeah, it has this tail thing coming out of the trunk. Don’t ask me. Point is, you can brush it. Hey … ” Uncle Morris sniffed the air like a lion scenting prey. “… who ordered pizza?”
Skeleton Tree Page 8
