by Paul Zindel
wecouldanswerher,butIfoundmyselfsaying,“Youdon’thavetobeafraid,
MissApplebaum.”
“No,”Zeldaechoed.
“You’vebeenawonderfulperson,”Isaid.
“You’vebeenkindtoeveryone,”Zeldasaid.
WenoweachheldoneofMissApplebaum’ssmallhands.
“You’velivedbravely.”
“You’vehelpedsomany.”
“You’vebeenagreathumanbeing....”
Thenwewentsilent.
We looked into her eyes. Miss Applebaum’s lips no longer trembled. She
spokeforthelasttime.
“Burymeinthepark,”shesaid.
Weheardthewords,butcouldn’tdaretobelievethem.Weleanedcloser.
“Burymeinthepark,”sherepeated,andslowlyclosedhereyes.
Shewasdead.
MissApplebaumwasdead.
17
HenryandIdideverythingwecould.Wetriedcallingforhelp.Wecalled
Dr.Obitcheck.Hewasangryaboutthecall,toldustocallwhateverfancy
doctorwehaddraggedherto.Dr.HarrietSilveronlyhadanansweringservice.
We did reach Dr. Manley on the ninth floor of Parkview Hospital. He told us howtotestforMissApplebaum’spulse.Therewasnone.Hetoldustoholda
mirror to her mouth and look for water vapor. There was none. He told us we shouldn’thavetakenherhome.Heremindedushehadwarnedusthatshedidn’t
havelongtolive.WecalledBerniceandgotarecordingsaying,“Wecan’tcome
to the phone just now, but please leave a message.” We didn’t. We ended up doingnothing.Therewasnothingwecoulddotomakeusfeellessguilty.
Almostnothing.
WesatnexttoMissApplebaumuntillatethatnight.Henrydidn’thavetocall
hisparents,butIcalledmymotherandtoldherHenryandIweregoingtoalate
movieandthatsheshouldn’tworryaboutme.
“Zeldaaaaaaaa!”shesaid.
“Really,Mom,”Isaid.
IttookHenryandmealongtimetothinkabouteverythingMissApplebaum
hadsaid.Anddone.Everythingthatwecouldremember.Themorewethought,
the more amazed we were by her. Even in death, she was shocking. Original.
Shehadplannedsomuch.Shehadchosensowell.
Miss Applebaum, Henry, and Zelda. We would be bound even closer now.
Henry with his hawk eyes and fear of falling air conditioners. Zelda with her longhairandterroroftheendofliving.
WewaiteduntiltheChannel4eleven-o’clocknewswasover.Mostofthepet
walkersinthebuildinghadfinishedtheireveningstrollsbythen.Theelevatorin thehallwaywassilent.Itwouldbesafestnow.WeputtheraccooncoatonMiss
Applebaum, and Henry lifted her gently into the wheelchair. We carefully picked everything we felt she would want to have with her. Her homburg hat.
Thetweedsuit.Herschoolbriefcase.ThefadedphotographofMissApplebaum
and her sailor. A flower blossom. A leaf. Henry gave her a button from his
sleeve.Igaveherasmalllockofmyhair.Wewantedtodosomethingstheway theancientEgyptiansdid.Bymidnight,ifanyonehadcometoawindowinthe
Dakota, all they would have seen was a boy and girl pushing an old lady in a wheelchairintotheshadowsofthepark.
WepushedMissApplebaumthroughStrawberryFields,andbytheAngelof
theWaters.Westayedasclosetothecirclesoflightfromthelamppostsaswe
dared but were always ready to disappear if we saw a patrol car. Miss Applebaum had spoken to us of many things. Of puzzles and mazes. Of the secretoftheninedotsthatshehadtolduswasthesecretoflifeitself.“Thetrue answersarealwaysbeyondourexpectations,”werememberedMissApplebaum
tellingusfromtheverybeginning.Wepassedthelifelessformofthecarousel
andtookMissApplebaumpastShakespeareandColumbusandMadameCurie.
Allthestatuesweredarksilhouettesagainstahalf-moonsky,butweknewMiss
Applebaumlovedthem.Aheadontheknollwouldbeherbench.“Thisbench!”
shehadcried.“Thisspot!Thisisthemostwondrousplaceintheworld!From
here, you can see everything beautiful! This is where all civilization comes together and means something! Where it means something important!
Profound!” we could hear her proclaiming. “The best of all the spirit of the worldthathaseverexistedtriumphshereandliveson!”shehadsung.
Here we stopped at the edge of the trench. Together we lifted Miss
Applebaum’sbodyoutofthewheelchairandlaidhergentlyintowhatwouldbe
hergrave.
Gently.
We covered her with enough earth so when the men would come with their machinestheywouldn’tseeher.Theywouldsimplyfinishtheirjoboffillingthe
long,longtrench.
Werolledtheemptywheelchairoutofthepark.Thesnowwouldfall.Winter
would come and go. And in the spring, the park would come alive again. The bulldozersandthetrenchwouldbegone.Thebenchwouldsitonasoftgrassy
hilloncemore.Childrenwouldcomebacktoplayandtherewouldbethesounds
ofpeopleandmusic.Onsuchabeautifulday,wewouldreturnagainandbringa
begoniaforMissApplebaum.
*****
Don’tmissasneakpeakatPaulZindel’snextbook,
THEUNDERTAKER’SGONEBANANAS
Chapter1
BobbyPerkinsknewtheminutehesawMr.Hulkatherewassomethingalittle
wacky about the guy. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was because so muchofMr.Hulka’sappearancewasattractiveexceptofcourseforthepartof
his face which seemed to be made of Silly Putty. He looked a little like a characteractor,onlyaboutthirty,butthekindthatoneknewwasnevergoingto
makeitpastdoingwalk-onsonsomeawfultelevisionshow.ThatfirstdayMr.
Hulkawaswearinganimpressivedarksuitandhisshirtwasstarkwhitewiththe
collarjustperfectandatiehangingdownlikeastiffknifepointingtowardhis
belt and he had a handkerchief popping out of his jacket pocket. The
handkerchiefcurvedatalltherightangleslikewell-fashionedsecrets.Actually
Bobby decided Mr. Hulka came off as perfect casting for his family’s first neighboronthetwenty-fourthfloorofthefancyCenturyTowerApartments.Of
coursenotalltheapartmentswerefancy;therewereafewstudioapartmentsbut
ingeneraltheplacewassoexpensivemostofthefloorsweren’tevenrentedyet
andithadbeenopenoverayear.Bobbythoughtmaybemostpeopledidn’twant
tomoveinbecausethebuildingwaserectedsoclosetotheedgeofacliffinFort Lee,NewJersey,thatitlookedlikeitwasgoingtofallrightoverandtakethe
GeorgeWashingtonBridgewithit.Onedaytherewouldbethisgreatbigsplash
and that would be the end of the Century Tower Apartments and maybe the WorldTradeCenteraswell.
Mr.Hulkawasbeingmovedinto24-G.Bobbyandhismotherandfatherlived
right next door in 24-H and none of the other eight apartments on the twenty-fourth floor had been rented yet. In fact nobody had rented anything on the twenty-third floor or the twenty-second. There was some man with a collie livingonthetwenty-firstandthentherewereafewofthepenthouseswayupon
the th
irtieth floor that were rented. Aside from that most of the people lived belowthetwentiethfloor.Therehadbeensomanyfightswiththelandlordabout
garbagepickupsandrentrip-offsanddealsunderthetablethatthebuildinghad
gotten a terrible reputation and was in the middle of a big court battle because the owner was some money-grabbing villain who didn’t care about giving
peopletheservicestheywerepromised.Bobby’smotherandfatherhadalready
toldhimthatwhoeverwouldmoveintotheGapartmentwouldhavetobevery
richbecauseitwasahugelayoutwiththreebedrooms,amaid’sroom,aprivate laundry room, and a forty-three-foot living room with terrific views and a wraparound terrace that offered views of Manhattan, the George Washington Bridge,NyackandifyouleanedfaroveryoucouldevenseetheBlueMountains
way out in New Jersey. Of course Bobby knew the layout of 24-G very well becausemanyatimejusttogetalittlepeaceandquiethewouldsneakunderthe
partitionofhisterracewhichwouldbringhimontotheterraceofapartment24-
G, and then he would just open the terrace doors and roll around, sometimes singingsongssotheywouldechoandvibrateoffthewallsoftheemptyrooms.
BobbykeptpretendingtotakethingsouttotheincineratortheentiredayMr.
Hulka and his belongings were being moved in. Bobby thought Mr. Hulka’s movingcrewlookedlikeatrioofpre-humanoidcreatures.Theylookedlikethe
kind of guys who would come up out of ships’ holds where they would stoke furnaces with coal and sometimes be referred to as hairy apes. Mrs. Perkins couldnotunderstandwhyBobbywantedtokeeprunningoutwithlittlepiecesof
garbage,andsometimesBobbywouldjuststayintheincineratorroomuntilhe
couldhearalittleactiongoingoninthehall.Thenhewoulddashoutandsee
what new objets d’art were being carted into 24-G. He saw some elegantly carvedchairsandcabinetsbeingcarriedin.Alotofthemweremadeofheavy
wood. Some were gilded as though they had just been yanked over from some Transylvaniacastle.Therewerealotofboxesandtwooftheweirdestelephant-shapedendtableswhichlookedverycheap,asthoughtheyhadbeenmadeina
substandard Tijuana straw factory. But most of all, there was Mr. Hulka—Mr.
Hulka who moved swiftly, supervising all the little hairy apes, his voice commandingthem,makingthemmovefaster,carryheavierloads,makingthem
actuallystaggerfromtheelevatortohisnewlyrentedsanctuaryattheendofthe hall.BobbyheardMr.Hulka’svoice.Itwaslowandsmoothanddeepandyet
there was never any question that he was pulling the strings. He kept those brutesmovingwithveryprecisewords.Infact,Bobbydecidedifhehadtocast
this man in some major role, he would probably get the title role in Caligula, that play about the king who used to enjoy boiling people in pots just to hear themscream.
Bobby began to lose track of how many trips he was making out to the hall but somewhere around his fifth reconnoitering venture, he came face to face with Mr. Hulka for the very first time. They weren’t alone in the hall. There were two moving men who were rolling a long RCA television-stereo console between them. But Mr. Hulka smiled and said hello. The voice that was so
mellifluoussoundedlike aphonydisc jockey’s.Therewas anotherovertonein Mr.Hulka’svoice.EvenwiththatoneworditwasasifBobbyknewHulkawas
telling him he was very aware of being observed, spied upon. They had only lookedateachotherforamomentandthenMr.Hulkatookoffwiththeapesand
the television, disappearing into 24-G, and Bobby lingered in the incinerator room,tearingupanemptyMacy’sboxthathehadpleadedwithhismothertolet
him throw out. He persisted in tearing the box into pieces, delaying as long as possible, shoving the pieces down the mouth revealed by the little metal incinerator door. The door was hot so Bobby knew the fire was burning far belowandhewasgladitwassuchaverysmalldoorbecauseitremindedhima
littleoftheoventhatthewitchhadin HanselandGretel whenshetriedtopush thetwokidsintoit.Hedidnotordinarilyhavemacabrethoughtsbuttherewas
something about the presence of Mr. Hulka. It was as though he had an aura.
Bobby had read a lot of articles about people giving off auras, these little vibrationsemanatingfromthem.Itwasasthoughhisnewneighbor’sheadhad
been anointed with a kind of evaporating oil, a slippery coating, which made Hulka’s face shine like a gaudy bargain basement souvenir. He looked almost religious,andyetifhewasasaintheseemedlikeanartificialone,thekindof iconthatwouldwearaheaddressofcheappinwheelsandcrepepaperstreamers
allflyingoutward. Theeyesarethemirrorofthesoul,Bobbyhadbeentolda thousand times in his English class. And Mr. Hulka’s dark little beady eyes lookedlikehewasfilledwithhate.ItwasthesameoldstorywithMr.Hulka’s
eyesaswithanyoneelse’s,Bobbydecided.Thoselittleballsofsightbywhich
youcouldreadaperson’sheart.Yes,Bobbytoldhimself,hewouldhavetoget
toknowthisone.
Chapter2
Bobbycouldn’twaittotellLauriaboutMr.Hulka.LauriGeddesandherfamily
had rented apartment 3-A ever since the Century Tower had started renting which was exactly thirteen months ago. The Geddes apartment was of course much lower than Bobby’s and overlooked the outdoor swimming pool which
madeitareallyniftyspottopeople-watchduringthesummer.BobbyandLauri
hadspentmostoflastAugustsittingonherterracesippinglemonadeandogling
the motley group of tenants who would make feeble attempts at socializing.
They would see adults rubbing lotions on their various extremities and posing this way and that and clutching sun reflectors. A lot of desperate secretaries seemed to be around in bikinis throwing whammies to attract whatever
unmarriedmentherewere.Therewasonewomanwhowassofatthatwhenshe
got in the pool she displaced about four tons of water. And there were lots of meanlittlekidsrunningaroundshovingeachother—bratstryingtothinkofall
sorts of new ways to be aquatically cruel to each other. Sometimes Bobby and Lauri would see a kid picking on someone else and Bobby would get up and stickhistwofingersintohismouthandletoutaloudwhistleandsay,“Layoff
youinfantilenitorI’llcomedownthereandgiveyouaknucklesandwich.”In
fact, Bobby and Lauri had to appoint themselves as unofficial lifeguards since the Century Tower’s landlord was too cheap to have a real lifeguard. He had spentafortuneputtingupabouteighty-three“swim-at-your-own-risk”signs,but
thatwasit.Andhereitwas,theendofJune,schoolallfinishedfortheyearand therewasnoquestionthatBobbyandLauriwouldsimplyhavetotakeuptheir
posts on the terrace of 3-A as self-appointed guardian angels of the subteen underdogswhowouldbefightingfortheirlivesduringthenexttwomonthsin
theovercrowded,undersizedswimmingpoolthatabsolutelyreekedofchlorine.
“Angel” was a term that had to be applied somewhat loosely to Bobby now thathewasfifteenyearsoldandonsemiprobation.Bobby’sexteriorwasfairly
successful. He was very good looking with medium-length black hair and
English
-white skin and sound teeth and big green shining eyes. Even Bobby knewhewasaclassact.Sohereallydidn’tquiteunderstandwhyhewassortof
anoutcastatschool.HetriedtoexplainitalltoLaurioneinfamousnightwhen
theybecamefriends.Andwhathesaidthatnightwas,“Thekidsallreacttome
in the worst ways. The boys particularly. They think I’m an idiot and a professionaljerkbecauseIhappentoholdpoetry,goodnessandbeautyaboveall
other qualities. Everybody in Fort Lee High knows my name,” he told Lauri.
“Theyjustdon’tlikethewayItalkoutinclassandbelievethattheworldisa
pretty terrific place and that kids don’t all have to be berserk in order to get statuspoints.I’mreallyapacifistbutsomanykidsyellthingsatmeinthehalls thatsometimesIhavetopunchthemalittle.”
Laurihadhadherowndeepproblemsthefirsttimetheymetsoshehaddone
only a lot of nodding in agreement, letting Bobby ramble on about every complainthehadintheworld.“TheythinkI’moutspoken,”Bobbysaid.“And
it’sjustbecauseIdon’thappentoliketositaroundonthesidelinesliketheydo, criticizing everybody else. I don’t believe in tact. Maybe that’s my problem. I mean, when I feel something I just say it. The reason I’m not accepted in our schoolisbecauseIgoagainstthegrain,thegrainofthekids,theteachers.They alldon’tlikeme.You’llfindthatoutthelongeryougothere.Theydon’tletme onthefootballteam.Theydon’tletmedoanything.ButIdon’tcare.AllIdois laugh.Theycan’thurtme.Theydon’thurtmeatall.”
LaurihadnoddedagainandBobbyknewshedidn’tquitefallforthelastline
ofhis.
“LastyearIwaswalkingdownthehall,”Bobbycontinued,“andthisonekid
walkeduptomeandsaid,‘You’reBobbyPerkins,aren’tyou?’SoIsaid,‘Yes.’
And he said, ‘Well, I want you to know you’re about the stupidest waste I’ve evermet.’”Bobbysighed.“Youknowincidentslikethathavecausedmetobe
awareoftheinconsistenciesofstudentbehavior.”
