The New Kid, page 10
The mom and daughter selected their second favorite, and the mom gave Carson’s dad her contact information.
“But only just Bo,” he told Carson after they walked away. “And nobody else. Not any more. I mean it, mister.”
Over the course of the next couple of hours, many families came to the adoption-information table, including several of Carson’s classmates and a few kids from Ms. Parker’s class.
Before the end of the carnival, seven families had signed up for adoption, and of the seven families, four were taking two.
How lucky could Carson get?
He would be keeping Bo. Bo might enjoy a play pal.
He’d bring that up later.
Well, as it turned out, even luckier! He got the ducky with a gold star and won a raffle prize!
“How did I end up with a plug-in fake aquarium with phony fish in it?” Carson’s dad mumbled to himself as he and Carson headed to the car.
“Dollie contributed it. Put it in the guest room, Dad. Grandma and Grandpa like tropical fish!”
“These aren’t fish! They’re cardboard impostors! Covered with paper and glitter!”
“Well, we won’t have to buy fish food for them. Or clean the tank.”
“I guess that’s a point.”
“Can we get some real fish sometime?”
“That’s a maybe.”
“Can we go fishing at the pond sometime? When Grandma and Grandpa come?”
“You betcha.”
“Did I tell you Wes sleeps with a rubber bass screwed onto a board?”
“It’s screwed onto an actual board?”
“Yup.”
“Soft or hard rubber bass?”
“Medium.”
Carson’s dad took off his Porsche cap and scratched the top of his head. “Wow.” He put his hat back on and stared at Carson, from under the brim.
“There’s one small maroonish-brownish barbecue-sauce thumbprint under the bill of your hat, Dad.”
“There is?”
“Did you tip your hat hello to someone when you were eating?”
“I don’t recall.”
“How about after you were done?”
“Yes, I guess I did say hello to Eva’s aunt.”
“Will she be taking a rat?”
“I’m working on it.”
18. HELLO,
Stuffed Animal Day
Nancy reminded Carson: “Stuffed Animal Day is coming up, Carson.”
Carson said he didn’t have a stuffed animal.
Nancy said, “Yes you do. What is it?”
She crossed her arms on her chest and then drummed her fingers near her elbow. “Come on. Spit it out.”
It was hard to lie with a straight face. “I’m serious! I don’t have one, I don’t!”
Whatever Moose was, wasn’t actually that easy to determine just by looking at him.
To begin with, his ears were bald. Carson had concentrated on petting them quite a bit when he was young.
Then there was an issue with his antlers. There weren’t any. When Genevieve was a puppy, she got out of her crate one afternoon when Carson and his dad were grocery shopping.
The door hadn’t been properly latched.
When Carson and his dad returned, Genevieve was sitting in the crate, with the door wide open.
She was just lying quietly with her small dry nose resting between her paws, looking up at them.
At first, they didn’t know what was wrong.
Then they discovered the rumpled bedspread, sheets, and blankets.
And Moose, lying under the bathroom sink.
They saw the extent of his injuries. Apparently, Genevieve had burrowed under the covers where Moose was sleeping and damaged his tail quite a bit—she ate the tip off it.
She also consumed both antlers.
She devoured his dewlap: the floppy flap of cloth dangling from the front of his neck. Stuffing was coming out.
Off they all went to the Pasadena Animal Hospital. Dr. Tichenal took X-rays of Genevieve and admitted her for observation.
Carson sat Moose up on the counter in the waiting room next to a WELCOME sign.
Dr. Tichenal came out and quietly spoke with Carson’s dad about Genevieve’s situation.
Then he listened carefully to Moose’s heart and said Moose sounded good and told Carson that the missing antlers shouldn’t pose a problem. A moose sheds its antlers every year, anyway. And grows a new rack in the spring.
As for the dewlap, he could do without it. It didn’t serve a critical function. He was just as good-lookin’ without it.
Dr. Tichenal poked the stuffing back in and stitched closed the opening in Moose’s neck, stitched up the antler holes, and cropped and repaired the tail.
Carson asked, “Will Moose grow new antlers?”
Dr. Tichenal was honest: “Under this particular set of circumstances, I doubt it.”
He gave Carson a business card from a card holder. It said Robert Tichenal, DVM and had a small picture of a dalmatian jumping over the letters with its tongue hanging out and its ears blown back.
“If you have any further questions or concerns about the moose, feel free to give me a call.”
They went home without Genevieve.
For two weeks after her stomach surgery, Genevieve had to wear a white plastic collar that looked like a satellite dish so she wouldn’t lick the surgery site. She walked backward around the house bonking into the furniture, but afterward she was fine. Good as new.
And five years later, Genevieve still was good as new.
Yay for Dr. Tichenal!
The best veterinarian in the world.
Carson put his hand on top of Genevieve’s head and then fiddled with her silky left ear. “Thank you, Dr. Titch,” he whispered.
Carson knew that not every veterinarian could so skillfully remove antlers from the belly of a puppy or would or listen so attentively for a heartbeat inside a stuffed animal that some scared little kid brought in, but he planned to be one of them.
Carson and Genevieve stood at the living room window, side by side, watching the huge raindrops plop onto the shiny deep-green leaves of the rhododendron plant on the other side of the windowpane. He opened the front door and they looked out. They breathed the cool, dark, damp fresh air. The wind lifted and tossed the branches in the yard. The trees in the distance were still black against the sky, but silver light was filling the air.
Thunder rolled.
His dad appeared behind them. “Would either of you like a cup of hot chocolate?”
“I would! Thanks, Dad.”
“Would either of you like a dog biscuit?”
Genevieve knew a little English.
She woofed.
A cup of hot chocolate did sound good, with a little puff of whipped cream on top.
Soon Carson and his dad were relaxing on the front porch on wicker chairs with flowered cushions, drinking hot chocolate and watching the rain gently falling past the motion light onto the dark lawn.
Genevieve was sitting at attention on the porch boards, head up and tongue out.
The biscuit was long gone.
She was on a leash, the loop trapped under a chair leg, because you never know about a dog and thunder.
It like smelled Montessori school, in the rain. Maybe it was the flowering azalea bushes. Raindrops were pooling in the petals. Carson thought of the honeysuckle bushes that grew on the fence around the Rainbow Ridge yard, where he harvested blossoms in the springtime and drank the nectar.
Well, he didn’t exactly drink the nectar. He pinched it out of the bottom of each white flower, just one small, clear drop. Barely a taste. But it tasted great, and he had the funny feeling that from now on, for the rest of his life, whenever he tasted honeysuckle, it would remind him of Rainbow Ridge. And when he was reminded of Rainbow Ridge, he would always miss it.
Always.
“Tomorrow’s Stuffed Animal Day,” Carson told his dad.
“Are you bringing Moose?”
“No, Dad.”
“Why not? It’s okay if he’s worn out. It’s fine to bring him, I think. There’s a wonderful tradition of kids and worn-out stuffed animals. Remember The Velveteen Rabbit?”
“Yeah.”
“How the old rabbit ended up becoming real and hopping off with the other real rabbits?”
“That’s the saddest story in the world, Dad.”
“Right.”
Little streams of water were running over the stone path. The trees were dripping water onto the ground. Wind was blowing rain up onto the porch.
“I guess we better go in,” said Carson’s dad. He picked up Genevieve’s leash. “Grab a cushion.”
Carson stood for a minute outside, watching the wind swirl in the highest branches. Before long, he and Moose would both be nine.
That night, Carson had a dream:
He was riding on Moose’s back, and they were galloping in the rain. Carson’s Valley Oak hoodie hood had blown back, and rain was splashing on Carson’s face and Carson loved it!
Moose was young and strong. He had grown a fresh dewlap and a new rack of antlers, and they were covered with brown velvet. He had two brand-new ears, and Carson leaned forward and whispered into one of them, “Let’s go!”
Suddenly Moose reared up.
He could fly!
They flew high up into the air, over buildings and houses. Down below, Carson could see Nancy, laughing and swimming in a frothy turquoise swimming pool with Ethel.
She waved to him.
“Come down and swim with us!”
Carson woke up. It was morning.
Moose was staring straight at him from across the pillow.
Carson’s Valley Oak uniform was folded neatly on top of his dresser, with the sweatshirt on top. His dad was such a great dad! He had washed and dried the hoodie yet one more time, and soon it would be too small, but oh well.
Carson called to his dad, “I’ve decided to take Moose to Stuffed Animal Day.”
Carson got dressed and walked into the kitchen.
“Good decision. I was afraid he’d try to follow you if you didn’t!”
“But I’m going to leave him in my backpack.”
“Fine.”
Carson ate oatmeal with brown sugar, raisins, and a few blueberries on top, had a small glass of orange juice, and took one kid-size vitamin.
“Thanks for washing all my stuff, Dad.”
“No problem. That hoodie’s shrinking so fast, and you’re getting bigger so fast,” his dad said. “I may stop by the office and buy a bigger hoodie from Mrs. Sweetow.”
“Okay, but she’s been in a pretty bad mood lately, I’m warning you.”
There wasn’t much in Carson’s pack, so there was plenty of room for Moose. He carefully lifted him in.
You’re ridiculous, Carson told himself. But he left the zipper unzipped a little so Moose could breathe properly and look out.
His hoodie would have crowded Moose if he had crammed it into the backpack, and he didn’t feel like wearing it, so he casually threw it over one shoulder and headed down the porch steps, holding his canvas lunch bag while his dad locked the door.
He called to Carson, “Should we put in some lawn clippings for Moose to munch for lunch?” He chuckled softly to himself.
“Negative on that, Dad.”
19. GOOD-BYE,
Moose
The schoolyard was full of kids strolling around with their stuffed animals, gathered in groups with their stuffed animals, giving their stuffed animals turns on the slide. Cody was tossing his stuffed killer whale through the basketball hoop.
Carson set his sweatshirt on top of the heap of sweatshirts and packs that were plopped on the ground near his classroom door. He thought better of taking off his pack. Wes was standing nearby, talking to Oswaldo and Patrick. “Did you bring stuffed animals?” Wes asked them.
They both said, “Nah.”
Carson kept his mouth shut.
Wes said, “Me either. I’m not taking any chances on losing Captain Piano.” He frowned in Cody’s direction.
Carson heard someone calling his name in a tiny little high voice. “Howdy there, Carson!”
Carson looked over at Nancy, and she was holding one of Ethel’s worn-out black leather paws and waving it at him.
“Did you bring somebody to hang out with me today?” Ethel squeaked.
Carson hid a smile. He ran off and played soccer awhile with Oswaldo, Wes, and Patrick. “How come you got your pack on?” Wes called to Carson.
Before Carson could think up a good excuse, the bell rang and everyone went to their classrooms.
The kids were allowed to perch their animals on their desktops or sit on their chairs with them.
The classroom looked like a zoo.
Carson left Moose in his backpack, which he hung on the hook in Mr. Lipman’s class. He thought about bringing his pack to Ms. Parker’s room for Math Switcheroo, especially because Wes had been wandering around the room aimlessly, stopping occasionally to look into the June Box.
Don’t be ridiculous, Carson chided himself.
He walked across with a small herd of Mr. Lipman’s students: Oswaldo, Luciana, Nancy, Matthew, Sydney, and Patrick.
“Welcome, welcome!” Ms. Parker called to them. “And welcome to all your animal pals as well. I hope they won’t be too noisy in math. No animal today, Carson?”
“Nope.”
“Be good at Mr. Lipman’s!” she warned her departing students as they carried their stuffed animals out the door toward Mr. Lipman’s classroom.
“And, Parks?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget to give Mr. Lipman the note so he knows you’re supposed to be excused early for your Tahoe trip.”
“I won’t.”
“Poor kid!” she said behind her hand. “Has to go to Tahoe for the weekend.”
“Please accept my sincere sympathy,” she called to Parks. “That’s a rough job, up there snowboarding in fresh powder!”
Parks smiled a little.
“Got your homework packet, Parks? Oh, that’s right. You’ve been saving your No-Homework Pass—good thinking. Got your trumpet? Good thing you cleaned out your pack. Is that where you found that pack rat? Oh, sorry, Parks! That’s not a pack rat parked on your hat. It’s a kangaroo rat roosting on your hat. Can you carry all that okay?”
Ms. Parker giggled at her own jokes as Parks walked out. His arms were full: hoodie, pack, and trumpet case. He was wearing a baseball cap with a kangaroo rat attached to the top—hanging on for dear life.
Ms. Parker addressed the line of stuffed animals on the floor: “I expect you to sit quietly. No purring, peeping, pecking, or trumpeting. That means you,” she said to Luciana’s elephant.
Ms. Parker picked up a stack of ads on newsprint that she’d gotten from the grocery store. “Today we’re going to create some song-and-dance routines related to word problems,” she announced. “Everybody okay with that? Let’s make this fun. The ads are organized by sections. Check ’em out.”
“Want to be my partner?” asked Nancy. “You can sing and I can dance.”
“I think I am getting laryngitis,” Carson whispered.
“But you didn’t have laryngitis during PE!” Nancy said.
“It came on suddenly,” said Carson.
“Maybe you yelled too loud when you were Hula-Hooping.”
“I did not!” shouted Carson.
“See? There’s nothing wrong with your voice, you faker! Hey! There are some great deals in here!” Her eyes lit up. “Let’s plan a party for Mr. Lipman’s fortieth!”
Nancy got right to business making up a menu and a shopping list. She tallied it up. “Bad news. We’re already at $1,286.34. Hmm.” She looked at Carson. “Think maybe we should switch from grilled lobster drizzled with melted organic butter to hot dogs with chili on top?”
“Okay, sure.”
“Time’s up,” Ms. Parker sang out. “Who’s ready? Nancy? Carson?”
“Not ready,” said Nancy. “Plus, we’re completely over budget.”
“What budget?”
“A surprise-party budget. Mr. Lipman’s fortieth is coming up.”
“Mr. Lipman is already turning forty?”
“He’s thirty-eight. We’re getting him used to the idea,” said Nancy.
“This math assignment was supposed to involve music and dance,” said Ms. Parker. “Not a party plan.”
“Well, we haven’t gotten to the song-and-dance routine yet. That’s going to be Carson’s department. Can he borrow a Hula-Hoop? Does Hula-Hooping count as dancing?”
“Yes. Your group’s up first on Monday.”
Yikes!
Carson watched the other groups perform. They all were bad, but the country song about fried green tomatoes and fresh corn on the cob was the worst one of all.
He was happy to get out of there.
Carson walked with the kids back to Mr. Lipman’s room, passing Ms. Parker’s Switcheroo students on their way back to their class. He was tired. Hungry, too. Especially after all that talk about sizzling lobster tails.
He wandered into his classroom and sat down.
Mr. Lipman was standing at the front of the classroom, saying nothing. The kids got quieter and quieter when they saw how grumpy he looked.
“It has just this minute been brought to my attention that someone has taken Parks’s yo-yo from the June Box. Does anybody know anything about this?”
No one spoke.
Carson knew something about it. He knew quite a bit about it, actually. For starters, it wasn’t actually Parks’s yo-yo. He also knew it was Chloe’s brother Joey’s yo-yo, and that it was Zoe’s fault Parks got it taken away. But a green yo-yo was the last thing he was concerned about at the moment. He had glanced at his pack.
What was it doing on the floor?
Instead of hanging from the hook where he left it.
“Because,” continued Mr. Lipman, “I could not be more clear on this situation. Whoever has removed Parks’s yo-yo from the box needs to bring it forward.”
He looked from student to student.
Carson stared at his pack. Maybe someone from Math Switcheroo knocked my pack off the hook accidentally, he thought.
