Trashed!, page 7
Thinking of the teacup made Arthur think of Veda blabbing, so he told Watson what had happened at lunch. While he talked, he felt his stomach tensing up.
“I guess I don’t understand humans,” Watson said, giving her nose a good rub with her paws. “Why do your friends care that you own a teacup? Would they make fun of me for hanging out in a teacup?”
That was an easy question, and Arthur said, “No.” But why they cared that he owned a teacup was harder to explain. He didn’t want to say “because teacups are girly.” Watson was a girl, and that might sound insulting, even if he, Arthur, didn’t think a teacup was girly, and he, Arthur, didn’t think being girly was bad either.
Did his friends think being girly was bad? Arthur wasn’t sure. But they did think being girly was wrong for a dude. Arthur didn’t think he agreed with that either, but it was a lot to explain, especially to a mouse. And what if after that Watson told Arthur that the solution was new friends?
“New friends don’t grow on trees, you know,” Arthur said out loud.
“What’s that?” Watson asked. “Trees?”
Arthur realized he’d been arguing with his own thoughts. “Sorry,” he said. “Uh, so why they care is that none of them has a teacup, I guess. So it’s unusual. And unusual is, like, weird, and those guys think if it’s weird, it’s bad. Does that make sense?”
Watson’s nose bobbed up and down, her version of nodding. “With mice,” she said, “it’s the same thing. Disagreement is bad for the colony, so everyone in the colony has to have the same tastes and opinions. No weirdos allowed. I didn’t know humans were so much like mice.”
“Wait, you live in a colony?” Arthur said.
“Well, not anymore,” Watson said, “obviously.”
“Do you miss your colony?” Arthur was thinking that even though family and friends were a pain, he wouldn’t like to live without them.
“I don’t,” Watson said. “I guess it’s like food. There are certain things you need in life that you don’t need when you’re a ghost. What if you tell your friends you smashed the teacup?”
Sometimes Arthur had a hard time following Watson’s conversation. “Wait… what?”
“That would make them happy, right? Convince them you were tough, not the type to own a teacup, not unusual. Only, don’t actually smash it, because I like it, okay?”
Arthur wrinkled his nose. “You mean I should lie?”
“Why not?” Watson said.
“Because lying is wrong?” Arthur said, at the same time thinking that he was bad at lying and he might get caught.
“Look at it this way,” Watson said. “What’s more important, having friends or telling a lie?”
This question was too hard for a sleepy person. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay, Watson?”
“Sweet dreams,” Watson said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A sixth grader who was not Arthur Popper might have found Veda before school the next morning and told her flat out, “You blabbed about my teacup and I got razzed by the guys at lunch, and that hurt my feelings, and it’s your fault, and I’m mad at you.”
Arthur Popper did not do that. Arthur Popper did not like confrontation. Confrontation made him anxious. So Arthur Popper decided to avoid the issue, which meant avoiding Veda.
This was tricky that day, Tuesday, because he and Veda had library together, but he accomplished it by asking Mrs. Danneberg to help him find a book.
Mrs. Danneberg was delighted. “How about one of the King Arthur legends?” She suggested several, which Arthur rejected. Some of them had sounded interesting, but to stay away from Veda, he wanted to keep Mrs. Danneberg talking.
“Are there other legends besides King Arthur?” he asked.
Well, yes, there certainly were! Mrs. Danneberg suggested stories from ancient Greece and ancient Rome and even fairy tales, which were close relatives of legends, but Arthur rejected every one until the period neared its end.
“Actually, I guess The Legend of King Arthur would be okay,” he said at last.
He knew he was being a pain and expected Mrs. Danneberg to roll her eyes. But instead she sighed and said, “Good. Next week you can let me know how you liked it.”
Library was third period. Then came fourth period, then lunch. About midway through fourth period, math, Arthur felt his stomach tighten. He was worried about what would happen at lunch. Should he sit at the usual table? Sit by himself? Sit with other people he knew?
He knew other people, right? Well, yeah. But they were not people he sat with at lunch.
When the time came, habit won out, and he walked to the usual table. He was the first that day. As he unpacked his lunch, the other guys arrived and he grunted at them, but hardly looked up, expecting Teacup II, the Sequel.
And if that happened, if they teased him again, would he follow Watson’s questionable advice and claim he had smashed it?
He didn’t think so.
And anyway the teacup didn’t come up.
The guys acted normal, talked about other stuff, and finally he joined in.
Were they over it?
Maybe. But even when lunch ended, Arthur couldn’t be sure. The teacup could show up as a topic anytime. He had to stay alert.
* * *
By the time school ended, Arthur was tired. Maybe he was staying up too late getting bad advice from Watson? Sitting on the bus, he wished he could take a nap or play Mario Kart when he got home, but he couldn’t because Dad needed him at the store.
Again.
Arthur was looking forward to time off after Dad hired Juan and his grandmother returned. Grandma would be back before Monday, Arthur knew, because that’s when her book group met. How did he know that? Because Mom was freaking out, same as every month: she hadn’t started the book yet.
Arthur thought of mentioning to Mom that the book was sort of like homework, and she was always telling him to get a jump on homework, not do it at the last minute.
But he decided not to.
Arthur walked into the store, heard the entrance bell chime, saw half a dozen customers poking around Dining Room Furniture, Housewares, Lighting, and Wildlife—departments close to the entrance.
Half a dozen was a lot for a Tuesday. No hope of a nap now.
“Hey, there’s the kid of the hour.” Arthur’s dad waved at him from Floral. With Dad was Juan, dressed, again, in a polo shirt. Arthur tried not to stare at the tattoos. “Have you two met?” Dad looked from one to the other.
“Not yet,” Juan said. “You’re Veda’s friend, right?”
Juan probably had not intended for that question to be difficult, but it was. Arthur was still mad at Veda, hadn’t spoken to her all day. Still, he didn’t hate her. So were they friends?
Arthur’s answer was a smile and an elbow bump, which Juan returned.
“I’m showing the new guy around,” Arthur’s dad said. “Training him, that is. He’s a quick study. By tomorrow he’ll be on the floor helping out. I was just about to show him the UUI.”
“I never worked anyplace without a computer before,” Juan said. “Maria uses a spreadsheet for scheduling cleaners and budgeting, too.”
“Are you going to keep working for her?” Dad asked.
“Claro—for sure,” Juan said. “It’s a good gig, actually. Maria appreciates it when you do a good job.”
“We do too,” Dad said. “And about the computer… well, Byron likes his old index-card system, and frankly it’s not worth fighting him.”
“Byron’s your… father?” Juan asked.
“Wife’s father,” Dad said. “And founder of the store way back when, along with his wife, Linda. They’re Arthur’s grandparents.”
Juan nodded. “Good to know the history.”
“Excuse me?” A mom-aged woman with long red hair came up to the three of them. “I’m looking for a sweatshirt for my son? He’s five. Preferably red? Preferably no Disney? Can you point me…?”
Arthur said, “Happy to help, ma’am,” nodded to Juan, and proceeded to show the woman every small red sweatshirt in the store.
None was exactly right, so he showed her every small orange sweatshirt too. Finally she found a blue one herself. The picture on the front was Pluto, a Disney character, but she declared that Pluto was okay because he was an original Disney character.
“I totally see what you mean,” Arthur said. “Can I help you find anything else? We have an excellent selection of toys, for example.”
“No, no,” the red-haired woman said. “We should be bringing you toys. Half the ones my son has? He never plays with them.”
“I can ring you up, then,” Arthur said.
Grandpa had come out of the office while Arthur was finding sweatshirts. Now, as Arthur crossed the store, he saw Grandpa, his dad, and Juan standing in Electronics talking. Arthur couldn’t hear what they were saying.
At the cash counter the woman set down the cloth bag she’d been carrying, untangled the straps of her purse, unzipped her purse, pulled out her wallet and credit card. Arthur noticed there was a book in the bag—Of Mice and Men. Was she also in his mom’s book group?
The woman’s name was Molly Hart. Arthur saw it on the credit card as he wrote up the receipt. At the same time, he noticed that Grandpa had raised his voice.
Uh-oh.
Meanwhile Molly Hart peered into the jewelry case.
“I’d be happy to show you anything that’s of interest, ma’am.” Arthur spoke a little louder than usual.
“Oh no.” Molly Hart smiled and shook her head. “I was just thinking I’m as bad as my son—only instead of toys, I have jewelry. That gold bracelet?” She pointed. “My aunt gave me one like it. For graduation maybe? It’s pretty, but I don’t wear bracelets. It just sits around in my jewelry box.”
The words seemed familiar to Arthur, but before he could think, Grandpa’s volume level rose again: “All I’m saying is, you have to be extra careful when you hire certain kinds of people. What’s the matter with that?”
Dad’s voice was almost as loud: “Take it easy, Byron. Juan, I’m sorry. Let me assure you that this attitude does not represent mine or the business’s either. We couldn’t be happier to have you—”
“What do you mean my attitude doesn’t represent the business?” Grandpa was not taking it easy. “I am the business, in case you’ve forgotten. And if I say we have to be careful who we hire, then we have to be careful who we hire.”
Embarrassed, Arthur felt his face turn red. “Uh… my grandfather,” he said to Molly Hart, who was staring.
“I know your mom, I think,” Molly Hart said quietly, “and your grandmother, too. We belong—”
Now it was Juan’s voice that interrupted: “I don’t need any job enough to put up with this.”
“I’ll just take my son’s new sweatshirt.” Molly Hart reached across the counter.
“Oh! Sorry.” Arthur handed over the sweatshirt. “Thank you for shopping at Universal Trash.”
Ms. Hart managed a sympathetic half smile before she turned to go.
Arthur wanted to see what was going on without being seen himself, so he sneaked into Fine China, then peered through a jungle of silk flowers and plastic leaves. Juan, he saw right away, was gone—headed for the exit.
“What did I tell you, Dan?” Grandpa said to Arthur’s dad. “They don’t really want to work.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A voice piped up from behind Arthur’s right shoulder: “Shameful, just shameful. I heard the whole thing. I don’t see how Linda puts up with him.”
Arthur turned his head and saw Mrs. Merdle. She was the grandmother of Ramona’s friend Edie, besides being the prairie dog authority who visited second-grade classes. And she had known Arthur’s grandmother for a long time.
Arthur said, “Hi, Mrs. Merdle.”
“How can you stand it, Arthur?” she went on.
Arthur didn’t know what to say except, “He’s my grandfather.”
Mrs. Merdle was only an inch taller than Arthur and wiry. Short gray hair framed her sun-wrinkled face. She was wearing her prairie dog earrings, a HoneyJams T-shirt, running tights, and sneakers.
“Well, he isn’t my grandfather,” she said. “If I didn’t have a Stomp meeting, I’d tell him what I thought.”
“A Stomp meeting?” Arthur said.
Mrs. Merdle looked at her watch. “In twenty minutes. You know what Stomp is, Arthur. Fundraiser for prairie dog habitat? Your parents go every year.”
“Oh, sure,” Arthur said. “The Stomp part is dancing. Uh… I think my dad is steering Grandpa toward the office.”
“Get him out of the way,” Mrs. Merdle said, her eyes fierce. But when she looked at Arthur, they softened. “How are you, anyway? Seems like you’re working all the time.”
“Lots of new customers lately,” Arthur said.
“Yes?” Mrs. Merdle seemed interested. “What kind of new customers?”
“Uh, you know, people who maybe wouldn’t have shopped in a store like ours, shopped for used stuff,” Arthur said. “But now they’re trying to be more green, same as our ads say.”
“Really,” said Mrs. Merdle, then, “Oh! Why, hello, Molly. How nice to see you.”
Arthur saw that Ms. Hart hadn’t left.
“Oh, hello, Amy,” Ms. Hart said. “So you shop here too? It’s much nicer than I expected, and such excellent customer service.” She smiled at Arthur, then held up a picture frame. “I was on my way out when I spotted this. Everett—he’s the five-year-old—got a photo with the Easter Bunny. This will be just right.”
“Happy to ring you up,” Arthur said. “Or do you want to look around some more?”
“No, no. This will be it. I promise,” Ms. Hart said. “Have you finished the book yet?” she asked Mrs. Merdle. “It’s good but so sad.”
“Not yet,” Mrs. Merdle said. “I’m awfully busy with Stomp. I’m so glad you and your husband are attending.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Molly Hart said.
Arthur expected Mrs. Merdle to head for the exit after that, but she changed her mind. “I think I will have a little talk with your grandpa,” she said. “I have time if I keep it short.”
* * *
Arthur never heard what happened between Mrs. Merdle and Grandpa in the office. The ceiling didn’t cave in, though. The windows did not blow out. Like a lot of people, Mrs. Merdle had a bag slung over her shoulder, and when she came out, something was bouncing around inside.
Maybe it’s her copy of the book for book group, Arthur thought, and he would’ve told her goodbye, but he was helping still another kid with a ukulele. What is up with ukuleles? he wondered. Some new Hawaii show he never heard of? This was the kind of thing he’d know if his parents let him have more screen time. Really, it was no wonder Zeke and Ethan and Danh thought he was weird. It wasn’t his fault. It was his parents’.
* * *
That night at bedtime Arthur told Watson how Grandpa had offended Juan and Juan had left.
“Slow down a little, Arthur,” Watson said. “I’m not sure I understand. What did your grandpa say that was bad?”
Arthur was glad it was dark in his room. Just remembering, he could feel his face burn. “He said you have to be careful hiring ‘certain kinds of people.’ Then he made it worse. He said ‘some people’ don’t like to work. He meant people like Juan, and Juan is Latino. It was an insulting thing to say, and besides—obviously—it’s not even true.”
Watson twitched her whiskers. “Bad, very bad. Can your grandpa change, do you think?”
“You’re the wise one, Watson. Can old people change?”
“I don’t know about people,” Watson said. “But old rodents do get stubborn.”
The idea of Grandpa as an old rodent made Arthur smile, and smiling made him feel better—but not for long. He told the part where after dinner his dad had called Juan and apologized again, and Juan had been polite but still said no to the job.
“You should talk to Veda about this,” Watson said.
Without thinking, Arthur said, “No way,” then, “She blabbed on me.” Then, when Watson didn’t reply, “Why do I have to talk to her?”
“Because someone in your family offended her mom’s friend,” Watson said.
“The weird part is Grandpa likes Veda,” Arthur said. “He doesn’t call Veda ‘certain kinds of people.’ ”
“Your grandfather might not be… making total sense?” Watson said.
Arthur sighed. “Everything is officially terrible. But maybe when Grandma gets back, she can sort it out. Maybe if Grandpa says sorry to Juan. But I don’t think he…” Arthur’s words dissolved into a yawn.
“You have to talk to Veda,” Watson repeated, “and solve the mystery of my teacup too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
It wasn’t that Arthur disagreed with Watson exactly.
He knew he’d eventually have to talk to Veda. He was still mad at her, but they worked together on Sunday afternoons. They couldn’t work together without talking.
He also wanted to solve the mystery. The best way to start would be to question Grandpa B. Where was the teacup the last time he saw it? Were any shady characters around then, potential teacup thieves?
But Arthur didn’t want to talk to his grandfather. He was mad at him, too, same as everyone else was. And besides, would Grandpa B really remember any details after all this time?
So Arthur felt stuck.
At school, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday passed without Ethan, Danh, or Zeke mentioning the teacup. Maybe they had forgotten?
And Veda was surprisingly easy to avoid. He didn’t talk to her at all.
After school on Friday, Arthur worked at the store. First he helped a guy find kitchen gadgets: a grater, a peeler, two paring knives. Then he showed a woman an assortment of footstools, but she was fussy, and none was the right color for her den. It was almost six o’clock when he saw Jennifer Y getting ready to leave. Her race was this weekend, and he wished her good luck.
