Trashed!, page 6
“Half the world has tattoos, Veda. Even Mrs. Danneberg. Did you notice? It’s on her arm, a cartoon lady saying ‘Shhhh!’?”
“Juan’s tattoos do not say ‘Shhhh.’ They’re more usual: skulls and flowers and cars.” Veda pulled her phone out of the pocket of her shorts, looked at the time. “Should we turn around?”
Arthur nodded. “Probably, yeah.” They were less than halfway around the lake; they had to be back in twenty minutes. They stopped for a moment, and Arthur looked up. Far above them a paraglider flew. This wasn’t unusual. There was a launching platform in the hills right above them.
Arthur thought the paragliders were crazy. Who would want to jump off a cliff?
On the other hand paragliders weren’t ordinary, didn’t stick to the comfortable and the familiar. Paragliders were adventurous.
He and Veda turned around.
“Can’t you let your mom worry about whether Juan is honest?” Arthur said. “She hires people all the time. I bet she knows what she’s doing.”
“Yeah, usually,” Veda agreed. “But I’m afraid that with Juan she might be making a mistake. You know, her brain might not be working right? All because she likes him.”
“Ewww,” Arthur said. He was walking more slowly than Veda, looking out for prairie dogs and rabbits. Now she stopped to wait for him. The path was wider at this point, and they continued walking side by side.
“What did you want to talk to me about again? Ramona’s dead mouse?” she asked.
They were almost back by now. The conversation hadn’t gone the way he’d planned, and all of a sudden he felt shy. Veda was his best friend, but she had her own stuff to worry about. If Arthur told her about Watson, Veda might think he’d gone crazy—her best friend had gone crazy. Then she’d have even more to worry about.
But he had to tell her something. He had asked her to come to work early, straight from swimming. So he said the first thing that came into his head. “Last week after you left? This teacup showed up out of nowhere in Fine China. And it’s like a mystery. I mean, someone stole it from my grandma a long time ago. And now it’s back.”
“Crazy,” Veda said. “Where is it now?”
“In my room,” Arthur said.
“Seriously?” Veda said. “Why do you want it?”
Maybe he should tell her about Watson?
Why, all of a sudden, did everything in life seem complicated?
But it was too late. They were back at the store. For an hour they sat at the big oak table, adding kitchen utensils and miscellaneous small household items to the UUI. Luckily, there wasn’t too much merchandise that day, and they got done early.
“Can I see the teacup?” Veda asked Arthur.
“Sure,” Arthur said. “But why?”
“I don’t know. Because it’s a mystery, I guess. Maybe you’ve missed a clue, Arthur.”
Arthur thought of the way Veda had watered the flowers before. That was how she was, saw something to do and did it. If she decided to investigate something, she would get right to work.
Upstairs Veda inspected the teacup. “No clues,” she announced. “I was hoping for maybe a fingerprint or something. But I like the dancing bear.”
Arthur decided to try again. “So the other thing about the teacup,” he said, “is, uh… remember how I told you about Ramona’s mouse?”
Veda nodded.
“So, that mouse, I renamed her Watson because she—”
“Hi, Darth!” Ramona and her friend Edie were standing in the doorway.
“Hey, Mo.” Veda turned toward Ramona. “Oh—and your name’s Edie, right? How are you guys? How’s soccer?”
And then they were yakking, and then it was time for Veda to go, and Arthur had no more chances to explain about Watson. Maybe it was for the best? Arthur couldn’t decide.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The air is thin in Boulder, which is at almost six thousand feet elevation, and the power of the sun is strong. In the winter this meant the kids at Arthur’s school could eat lunch outside comfortably as long as the sun was out. But this time of year it was much nicer to eat in the shade of the picnic pavilion. Arthur and his friends sat at the same table every day, the second one from the corner.
That day, Monday, Arthur blinked as he ducked into the shade of the pavilion. Zeke was already seated at their table.
“Hey,” Arthur said, and sat as well, and began opening the brown bag that contained his lunch. Inside were an apple and an orange besides a turkey sandwich and Cheez-Its, which for some reason his parents would buy him even though they would never buy barbecue chips.
Mysteries of parents.
Meanwhile, Danh and Ethan came over. Ethan, as usual, had half a sandwich in his mouth before he’d even sat down, while Danh removed packed lunch items one at a time and inspected each as if it might be contaminated.
The lunch crowd was loud that day. A fourth-grade girl at the next table had a high-pitched laugh like a shriek, and Zeke had to almost shout to be heard when he looked at Arthur and said: “So hey, you got a fancy teacup now, huh? Hope you don’t break it.”
Arthur had been wondering whether to eat his orange or his sandwich first, didn’t quite hear Zeke till Danh started laughing.
“Will there be tea parties now? Can I come?” Zeke continued.
“Arthur’s got a teacup?” Ethan said through a mouth full of food. “How sweet! Are you gonna get some dolls, too? Play tea party?”
Arthur caught on at last, but his reaction was lame: “Wait. No. What are you…? I don’t—”
He got no further than that because Zeke had to tell Ethan and Danh about the teacup, which had pictures of teddy bears, and soon there was a teapot, too, and then a whole tea set.
Of the four of them, Danh was probably the smartest, and he ran with the story: “Tea sets are like what grandmas have. Great-grandmas.”
“Grandma Arthur.” Zeke looked him over. “It fits.”
When Arthur thought about it later, he knew he should’ve ignored them. But at the time his reaction was to explain.
Huge mistake.
“It’s only one teacup, and it’s cool, actually,” he said. “It’s got one bear on it, and it’s from that old band the HoneyJams, and the bear is, like, dancing and—”
“Oooh—dancing bears!” Zeke said.
“Are they wearing whatzitcalled, tutus? Are they ballet bears?” Ethan asked.
“Ballet teddy bears!” Zeke howled. “That just sounds so cute, doesn’t it, Danny?”
“Very cute,” Danh agreed.
“Tell us more, Grandma Art,” Zeke said. “Pink ballet bears or what?”
Arthur retreated. “Shut up,” he said, feeling miserable, and he took a bite of his sandwich, but it was hard to swallow, a lump in his throat.
“Ohhh, now we’ve hurt Grandma’s feelings!” Ethan said, and he and Danh and Zeke all laughed some more.
After that Arthur did shut up, ate his sandwich and tried to ignore the guys. But he felt the red heat on his face, felt trapped with them, with nowhere to look. Finally the subject changed—who was going to what camp when school was out, the Rockies game the day before, Danh’s brother had a sweet new bike. Every time there was a pause, though, somebody would bring up the teacup and laugh, and Arthur would shrink some more.
Lunch ended after what seemed like a thousand years, and instead of walking to social studies with Danh like usual, Arthur went the long way, which gave him plenty of time to be mad, specifically mad at Veda for telling. Okay, sure, he hadn’t exactly told her not to tell anybody about the teacup. But she should have known, right? A real friend would have known.
At least there was one lucky thing, though. He hadn’t told Veda about Watson. He could only imagine what a disaster that would’ve been—if Zeke and the guys had heard about his friend the mouse.
Arthur didn’t see Veda the rest of the day, which was lucky for Veda, but he did wonder how she’d happened to tell Zeke. Was it in homeroom? He knew she and Zeke had homeroom together with Mr. Racker. Had she told anybody else? Did he have to worry that any second somebody else would give him grief for owning a teddy bear teacup?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Arthur was too busy with customers to worry about friends or social status that afternoon at the store. In fact, lately the store had been so busy that Ramona had to help out. She was too short to stand behind the counter, but she knew where everything was, and she could direct the customers.
Usually Dad handled sales of CDs, sound equipment, and musical instruments. Those were things he knew a lot about. But that afternoon Dad was busy in the office, and Arthur was helping a teenage girl who was interested in buying a ukulele. From where he stood in Musical Instruments, Arthur saw the door to the office open and a guy come out. He had probably been talking to Dad about a job. Jennifer Y was gone a lot with the training for her race, and Grandpa had been sick. Dad was hoping to hire a couple of new clerks.
The guy from the office was parent-aged or a little younger, Latino it looked like, handsome with a neat haircut. He was wearing a pale blue polo, so Arthur could see the tattoo sleeves on his arms. Suddenly Arthur suspected he knew exactly who this was, and he might’ve said hello, but his customer had questions: Was Kala really the best ukulele? How about this Pomaikai?
Arthur answered the questions, showed off a few more ukuleles. Finally the girl said she had to think it over and left. Arthur was afraid he might’ve talked too much, but he didn’t have time to worry long. Soon he had to help a woman with designer purses. She was wearing a black hoodie with a gold buffalo, the University of Colorado mascot, and Arthur figured she was a student.
“I don’t see,” the student said, examining a bag with a French label, “how your store can claim to be ‘saving the earth’ when you’re selling leather! Don’t you know a living creature died to make this purse?”
Arthur nodded thoughtfully. “On the other hand,” he said, “it’s a vintage purse. So the creature died a long time ago.”
This argument seemed to convince the student, because she bought the purse. “Enjoy your purchase,” he said, “and thank you for shopping at Universal Trash.”
Next, Ramona came up to the counter leading an older white man who was wearing a tweed jacket and beat-up jeans. He had gray hair, which needed to be combed, and a wrinkled face. Grandpa would’ve called him an old hippie, and Arthur sussed out he might be a professor.
“May I help you, sir?” Arthur asked.
Ramona answered. “He is looking for a watch. I told him you have the key to the jewelry case.”
“Thank you, miss,” the man said. Either he didn’t mind being helped by a person who was not quite seven years old, or he hadn’t noticed. Dad said some professors were like that, “kind of oblivious.”
Arthur grabbed the key, which was on a ring with three others, each labeled with tape in his grandfather’s tiny handwriting. “We have a fine selection of timepieces,” he said, “many of them antiques.”
“All watches are antiques these days, wouldn’t you say?” The man smiled. “Unless they make toast.”
Were there watches that made toast? Or was the man making a joke?
The man smiled. “What I mean is that many of today’s timepieces do much more than keep time. But I thought it might be nice to go old-school, have something simple that I consult only for hours and minutes, not the weather, my blood pressure, and the definition of ‘parallax.’ ”
Professor for sure, Arthur thought.
The glass jewelry case to the right of the cash counter was about Arthur’s height. Now he directed the professor’s attention. “Most of the watches are on this shelf. I’m happy to get one out for you if you’d like.”
“I like the looks of that one there,” the man said after a minute. “Reminds me of my uncle. He was a stylish gentleman. Always wore a hat, and I don’t mean a ball cap, either.”
Arthur twisted the key in the small silver lock, pulled open the glass door, reached in, and retrieved a round gold watch, maybe two inches in diameter, set in a black velvet box. Even before he held the watch, he could tell it would be heavy, which probably meant expensive. He wondered if this man might actually buy it, or if he was taking a look for fun, or if he’d see the price sticker—$895—and hand the watch right back. Grandpa had taught Arthur that you never knew with customers. The ones who looked prosperous might be penniless, and the ones who looked hungry had a wallet full of hundred-dollar bills.
“That’s why it pays to be nice to all of them,” Grandpa said—or used to say before he started feeling free to express so many opinions.
“Tiffany.” The man read the brand name printed on the watch face, then took the watch out of its box. “Oh and look here, it’s engraved. What unusual initials!” He turned the watch over and showed Arthur the ornate letters etched on the back.
“XYZ,” Arthur read.
The Y in the middle—the largest of the three—stood for the last name, Arthur knew. The X would be the first name, and Z the middle name.
“I don’t think I know any names that start with X,” Arthur said.
“ ‘Xavier’?” the man said, and spelled it out. “Not a common name around here. Still, you have to wonder who the owner was. He’s dead now, I expect.”
Arthur nodded. “It may have come from an estate. I can look it up if you want.”
The man placed the watch back into the box, and Arthur thought he’d say thanks, he’d think about it. But the man surprised him. “I’ll take it,” he said.
All cool, Arthur nodded like that was just what he’d expected. “Excellent choice. I’m sure there’s not another like it in all of Boulder, maybe all of Colorado.”
The man laughed.
Arthur took the watch, moved over to the cash counter, pulled out the pad of blank receipts. “We take cash, checks with proper ID, and all major credit cards,” he said.
“Checks?” the man said. “Almost no one takes checks anymore.”
“We like to provide as many options as possible for our customers,” Arthur said.
The man pulled out his wallet, inserted a credit card into the reader. Arthur felt a moment of worry. This was a big purchase, one of the biggest Arthur had ever rung up, and sometimes there was a problem with the credit going through, which could be embarrassing.
While the machine and the bank talked to each other, the man said, “Actually, would you mind telling me who brought it in? Since it’s about to be mine, I’m curious.”
“Okay.” Arthur nodded, but when he looked at the ID number from the price tag—021523DJ—he had to apologize. Arthur could see that the watch had come in on February 15 of the current year, and that his dad had logged it. But instead of a name on the third line to indicate the provenance, who had brought it in, there was the word “Red.” “Oh, sorry,” Arthur said. “This one’s from the Red File. I can’t give out the information.”
“The Red File?” The man widened his eyes. “How intriguing!”
The credit charge went through. Arthur looked at the screen, saw that the man’s name was Phineas Worth—professor for sure!—and wrote up the receipt. “Some of our consigners don’t want their names given out,” he explained. “We keep the record in case there’s a problem, but it’s in what we call the Red File.”
“A problem?” Mr. Worth repeated. “Like the item turns out to be stolen?”
“That’s extremely rare,” Arthur said, which was true and also how his dad had instructed all the clerks to answer that question. “We know many of our consigners personally. At the same time, we keep very good records.” Arthur handed over the bag. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy your watch, Mr. Worth. Thank you for shopping at Universal Trash.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
That evening Arthur helped his dad make dinner. It was better than doing homework, better than thinking about Zeke and the lunch table, better than thinking how mad he was at Veda.
“Get the noodle pot out for me,” Dad said, stifling a yawn. “I’m making spaghetti.”
Arthur did as directed, and Dad filled the pot with water.
“I am beat,” Dad said. “I wish your grandmother were back. We could use her help in the store.”
Arthur missed his grandmother too. She was the one he used to tell about stuff that happened at school, stuff with friends or people he thought were friends. He hadn’t done that in a while. He was too old, wasn’t he?
“When is she supposed to come home?” he asked.
Dad was chopping onions, and the raw smell filled the kitchen. “Your mom thinks she’ll be back by the weekend,” he said. “Her book group meeting is coming up. I guess that’s more important than the store to her. I wish I could put her on the schedule for Saturday. Jennifer Y has that race, and the new guy wasn’t sure he’d be able to start that soon.”
“New guy” made Arthur remember the man in the polo shirt. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Was that Juan, Veda’s mom’s friend? Did you hire him?”
“Juan.” Dad nodded. “I still have to check references, but I’m sure if he’s good enough for Maria, he’s good enough for us.”
“Does he work for Maria?” Arthur said. “Or…?”
“Works for her, yes,” Dad said. “I’m not sure about the ‘or’ part. So I guess Veda has mentioned him?”
Arthur thought of saying that Veda didn’t like him, but that didn’t seem fair. Anyway, now Arthur would meet him and get to decide for himself.
“She thinks he’s funny,” Arthur said.
Dad poured oil into the frying pan. “Funny’s good,” he said. “You gotta have a sense of humor to work at the store, right? To deal with Grandpa for sure. Can you set the table, please, Arthur? I mean, you’ve been a huge help already, but…”
“Funny, Dad,” Arthur said. Then he set the table.
* * *
Watson appeared on the bedpost as usual that night. Of course, the first thing she did was ask Arthur about the teacup. “Have you made progress with my mystery?” she wanted to know.
