“What is your problem?” I yell, but Brock’s stomping to the sidewalk. Tommy stands there for a couple seconds, looking at him and then at me. He’s got a face like Oh man oh man oh man and then he’s walking after him, that pink noodle dragging on the grass. He waves to me and then they walk away.
Misty comes over to the shed and checks out the damage. “Looks okay.”
“Yeah, but like—what the crap?”
“He was acting like a Real Jerk.”
“Right?”
“So were you.”
“Me?”
“Mercedes!” We see her mom, standing in the yard, waving at us.
“What are you doing here?” Misty asks her. “Aren’t you’re supposed to be at the swim meet?”
“I need you to come here, please.”
Misty walks over. Her mom says some stuff, and then Misty yells, and there’s a lot of hand waving and finger pointing. Finally, Misty stomps inside, basically shutting the back slider in her mom’s face.
2
“I thought Misty was coming with us,” my dad says.
“Yeah. I think she got in trouble. I don’t know.”
The customer service line at Home Depot is ten people deep and there’s like one lady working.
My dad says, “Are you two—you and Misty—”
“We’re just friends.”
“Right. . . . If you ever want to talk—”
“I’m good,” I say, and seriously think of getting out of line.
He rubs his face. “That was Her . . . area.”
I stare ahead and think about that Real Jerk, Brock. Maybe I should swap out that piece of plywood with a new one. But probably not enough time.
“What were you guys building out there this morning?” my dad asks.
“It’s a box for Tommy’s snake,” I say. He gives me a weird look. “To beef up the cage he’s in, so he can’t get out.”
“What kind of snake is it?”
“Ball python.”
“Aren’t they dangerous?”
Ugh. “Not really. But they can bite and wrap around stuff.”
“Should probably put a lock on that cage.”
Ugh.
Finally, we’re at the counter.
“Hi,” my dad says. The lady’s name tag says Brenda. “We’re picking up a reserved item.”
“The Poop Master 5000,” I say. “Under Derrick Waters.”
Brenda types on the keyboard. “Hmm. Don’t see it.”
“What?”
“Could it be under another name?”
I clench my fists really hard a couple times. “Oh, wait—try Misty Knoll.”
She types that in, then shakes her head. “Sorry.”
“Okay, well, do you just have one we can get? There’s five of them here.”
“I see it’s available through our online store.”
“No.” My voice sounds weird—far away. “She said it was here.”
“Oh—now hold on.” Brenda turns the screen toward me. “I see what happened. This is the Warrington, Pennsylvania, store—but there’s another Warrington. In Idaho.”
Stuff is tilting pretty fast. “Oh, man.”
“So, no store around here has it?” my dad asks.
“I’m sorry, no,” Brenda says.
He puts a hand on my shoulder, but I shake it off.
This can’t be happening.
Isn’t happening.
I try to breathe through my nose and fight the horrible poop scenarios playing out in my mind because it’s fine.
It’s fine.
It’s fine.
I’ll just use my old method.
But it was crappy, wasn’t it? Fecal-borne pathogens trying to get me, flies buzzing around just loving it. And now I’ve got Pete and those mice doing their business in there too.
I need the Poop Master.
“Idaho,” I say, and I’m gripping the counter pretty hard to stop the tilting. “Who even lives in Idaho? Is that even a real place—get off me!”
“Son, it’s okay.”
“It is not okay!” I shout. Everybody is staring at me. My eyes burn and the storm swirls in my chest and I’m pretty sure I’m gasping for air and going to pass out. I stumble out of line and make for the exit as the Great Red Spot spreads everywhere. Now I’m outside, my sweaty back against the hard brick of the biggest construction store in America that doesn’t even have a freaking Poop Master 5000, except for that one store in Idaho.
This.
Is.
A.
Disaster.
No—this is Misty’s disaster.
3
We get home and I see her walking out her front door with a backpack and headphones on. My dad pulls in the driveway and I’m out the door before he shuts the truck off.
“Idaho,” I say, walking over. I’m definitely yelling, but she’s not hearing me. “Idaho!”
Misty finally sees me and takes her headphones off. “What?”
“There’s five Poop Master 5000s at the Home Depot in Warrington, Idaho. You had the wrong store.”
“Really?”
“I don’t have a toilet now. This is awful. And it’s your fault.”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“Yeah—I’m sorry.” Now she’s yelling, and she’s good at it. Better than me. “I made a mistake.”
“You said you were good at details—it was the first point on your application thing.”
“I didn’t say I was perfect.”
Her dad comes out. He’s wearing one of those surgeon masks. He’s got another one in his hand and he helps Misty put it on. Then he lifts a suitcase into the trunk.
My stomach is twisting up. “What’s happening?”
Misty gets in the back seat and slams the door.
“Misty! What is happening?”
She puts her headphones back on and they drive away.
1
I stare at the online order confirmation email for the Poop Master 5000. It’s gonna be here in two days, because of my dad. I think he was so freaked out by my Home Depot scene that he paid extra for super-fast shipping.
At least I didn’t have to ask him.
I click back to the manual. Says there’s not much setup—I just have to plop it in the shed. I’m almost ready, actually for real. This is good.
But I feel sick. My intestines did epic battle the whole night and they’re getting started again and I’m sweating pretty bad. I keep seeing Misty wearing that mask, driving away, and then I’m seeing her in the hospital, all those wires probably attached to her like before, when she was maybe not going to make it.
When she was waiting for The End.
I go into the bathroom and check my temperature. No fever. I try to drink water, but nope, there’s a DO NOT ENTER sign in my stomach.
Claudia walks past me. “Are you sick?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe.”
She feels my forehead. Then my neck. “Derrick, you’re drenched.” She gets a little paper cup full of water and makes me drink it, and then do it again.
I sit down on the tub ledge because I’m feeling sort of light-headed. “I think Misty is in trouble. I think maybe her kidney disease is back.”
“What? Why?”
“She left yesterday out of nowhere. Everybody had on these masks. I don’t know.”
“Maybe she left because you yelled at her in front of the whole neighborhood,” Claudia says.
My throat gets real tight. I hug my knees and look at the wall so she can’t see me.
“Hey—whoa.” Claudia bends down. “Dee—I was just kidding.”
I blink a couple times until it’s not blurry and say, “She said it was literally impossible to come back, but it did.”
“You don’t know that. I’ll text her sister. You want me to?”
“Yeah, okay.”
Claudia goes to her room and comes back a minute later. “Okay, I texted her.”
“What did she say?”
“It’s early. She’s probably sleeping or at another swim meet. Don’t worry.”
“Yeah.” I take a couple deep breaths. Claudia sits on the tub ledge with me. I say, “I’m not a Real Jerk, you know.”
“I know, buddy.” She rubs my back. “You’re just wound too tight.”
“Mmhm.”
I hear somebody on the steps, and then my dad’s standing in the door. He doesn’t say anything, but I can see Claudia making some hand motions and mouthing something like It’s okay.
“Dee,” she says. “Dee. Dad and I want to talk.”
“What?”
“Not about this. And not really in the bathroom.”
I move a couple inches away from her. “Talk about what?”
“About you. Us. Stuff that’s been going on.”
I look at my dad. “I said I was sorry for freaking out at Home Depot.”
“It’s not just that,” he says. “It’s about you not being able to take a break from—”
Claudia puts a hand up to stop him.
“We want to see Dr. Mike,” she says.
I stand up. “No. I’m not going back there. Dad already tried that.”
“As a family, Dee. Not to talk about your stuff.”
“What?”
“People do this,” she says. “Family therapy. It’s a thing. Dad and I think it could be really helpful for us.”
I look at him, and then at Claudia. She’s basically begging me with her eyes. “Fine. But I’m not gonna be saying a lot of stuff. Don’t get mad if I just sit there.”
Claudia hugs me. “Dad will call Dr. Mike and see when he can fit us in.”
I’m thinking about Misty, staring at The End again.
2
I force-feed myself a Pop-Tart and look for hinges in the garage. Claudia swears she’ll come get me as soon as Brynn texts her, so I’m staying busy until that happens. I can’t find any hinges or a lock. Whatever. I’m not asking for a ride to Home Depot again. I’ll just put something heavy on the lid to keep Pete from busting out.
I go back to the shed and rearrange everything. I keep checking my phone, but still no text. I peek out of the shed a lot because maybe Misty will just show up like always—just appear outside and say something random. It used to be annoying, but now it would be amazing.
I roll the steel door shut and sit in the dark for a while. It’s pitch-black, so I don’t even have to close my eyes to play the desert movie—it just pops on. The mountain peaks seem farther away, like they’re not even real, but I know they are because this is an actual place. I only looked it up once on Google Earth, but this is what I saw and it’s stuck in my brain.
The dust clouds at the far end of the road kick up and then the ground is rumbling and I’m thinking, It’s so pretty here, like nothing bad could ever happen.
My phone buzzes and I rip it out of my pocket. I wipe sweat out of my eyes and read the text.
Misty is fine, Claudia says.
I stare at the phone. A car door slams outside, close. Ten seconds go by and I hear our back slider open.
“Did you see my text?” Claudia shouts at me from the deck.
I hear another door slam. Heavy, like maybe a trunk. I roll up the steel door and run to the edge of our yard so I can see Misty’s driveway and there she is. Walking into her house. Headphones on.
Mask off.
“Dee,” Claudia says, but I’m halfway through the Mitchells’ yard. I’m walking to Misty’s front door and now I’m sort of jogging. It’s amazing—I feel amazing. I’m flying. I ring the doorbell and her mom answers.
“Oh—hey, Derrick.” No mask on her either.
“Uh, hi. Is Misty here?”
“She just got back.” Her mom goes to the steps and says, “Mercedes?”
No answer.
Her mom calls again and then I hear “What?” but not like the normal Misty. This Misty sounds like she just got off a roller coaster and is trying to find the bathroom.
“Derrick is here.”
Nothing.
“Why don’t you go up,” her mom says.
I walk up the steps and stand outside her door. Last time she said I couldn’t come in, so I knock and say, “Hey, it’s me.”
Long pause. “Come in.”
I open the door. Misty is laying index cards on the ground. Most of the carpet is covered. She lays a couple right in a row, then walks to the other corner and puts another one down, then another. I read some.
Jet Ski on the Delaware River.
Watch all the Princess Diaries movies w/Brynn in 1 night.
Make something huge disappear.
“You’re not sick,” I say. “I thought you were sick. Like maybe your kidney thing had come back.”
“I told you it can’t come back. Literally impossible. That’s what I said.”
“Yeah.” I read a couple more cards on the ground.
Do the Ben & Jerry’s ice cream challenge (the Vermonster).
Do a back flip.
Do a front flip.
Learn to whistle really loud with my fingers.
“Brynn ate peaches at a swim meet party,” Misty says. “She’s allergic.” She keeps moving this one card to a different place—picking it up and putting it down. It says Skydive. “My parents thought it might be a cold or the flu, so I went to my gramma’s in the city. Have to be careful.”
“Oh.” Then I say, “I didn’t know peaches was an allergy.”
Misty just keeps reading the cards and moving their spots.
“Sorry I freaked out about the toilet,” I say. “Idaho. Pretty funny, when you think about it.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s good that you’re not sick. Again.”
She ripples the index cards in her hands so it makes a brrrrrrrrrr sound. “I can’t be your assistant anymore.”
My stomach cramps a little. “Right. Yeah. Because I acted like a Real Jerk.”
Misty looks at me real serious. The Stare. “I just can’t anymore, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay. Well.” I sort of wave. “See ya.”
I’m basically out of her door when I see it—a shoebox on the ground with more index cards. Maybe thirty. The lid is right next to it. It says DONE. I look at it for a while, like maybe for a minute.
“People make mistakes,” I say. “That’s what you said. So you can keep being my assistant, even though I was a Real Jerk.”
She doesn’t say anything. I keep looking at the shoebox by my foot. There’s an index card sticking out, and I can’t read the whole thing, but I see the word hatchet. I’m squinting at it real hard and now I’m kneeling down to push the other cards away.
Hit a bull’s-eye with a hatchet.
I grab another one that says Play the bass cello and then another that reads Pry up a manhole cover. Now I’m leafing through with both hands and Misty is saying “I just can’t, okay,” but I’m on this mission because it’s here.
Life is a buffet, she said. And it’s gonna close at some point. So eat up.
And there it is, in the middle. I pull it out and stand up. My hand is shaking.
Build a doomsday shelter.
“Derrick.”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t get it.”
Her handwriting is so neat. It could be a computer that did this, it’s so neat. “Uh-huh.”
“Just look around.” She’s stomping up and down the rows of cards, waving her arms. “I mean—look!”
“I get it.”
“No—you don’t
get it.” She’s got that edge in her voice, like the next sentence is gonna be a scream. “Look at how many there are. And I’ve got another hundred in my head.” She grabs a notebook off her desk and shows me the pages. They’re all full. “Look at all these.”
“Yeah.”
“There’s too many!” There’s the scream. Man. She could out-freak me out. “Derrick. There’s too many.”
“We’re almost done,” I say. My eyes burn. “You could just help me a couple more days and then—” but she’s shaking her head, grabbing more notebooks and showing them to me.
“Every second has to count. You should get that.”
I swallow, but it’s hard, like a bunch of food is stuck. “What?”
“The apocalypse.” She waves her hand toward the shed. “I mean, what if Brynn had the flu? And I got it, when I’m just getting started with my actual life? That could happen. I’d be back in that stupid hospital and all this—I couldn’t do it.”
I blink really hard so I can read the card again. “So I’m the new bass cello. There’s something else cooler or not as boring.”
“You don’t know what it’s like,” Misty says.
“I do!” I yell, and then I’m down the steps, legs and arms pumping, lungs burning, out the door and sprinting to the shed, everything rumbling like when the Humvees in that desert movie come for me.
1
I fold my hazmat suit and put it in my school backpack. Zip it up and head downstairs. Claudia and my dad are talking real low and stop when I come in.
“Hey,” she says.
I rip open a Pop-Tart bag and cram one in my mouth. “Am I taking the bus today?”
She shakes her head. My dad rubs his face.
“Dad is calling to see if Dr. Mike has any cancellations today,” she says.
I shrug.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, and head out to the Subaru. I unzip my book bag and check on the hazmat suit. Still there. I zip it back up and finish my Pop-Tart and hear Misty’s door open. Brynn walks out and sees me and waves like Oh hey I have a question and starts walking over. Claudia comes out right then and now I’m getting out of the car and heading down the sidewalk toward the end of the street where some other kids are waiting.
It's the End of the World as I Know It Page 10
