What Comes Next, page 8
“And you’re willing to hang out with Ms. Stacy while your sisters and Simon play?” Mom asked me.
I nodded, maybe too enthusiastically.
“And Rory too?” Dad pressed.
I glared at him again.
36
WANNA BE MY PARTNER?
I had Jack-Jack with me the next afternoon, anxious to find out if Ms. Stacy’s plan had worked. Technically, Simon was still in the after-school club, but Ms. Stacy was willing to give this a try if it made her and everyone else’s school day with Simon easier. The big question: Was playing with Jack the perfect motivator for Simon—as Ms. Stacy had predicted? It was time to find out.
Jack and I waited for Arena Elementary to clear out and then we started toward Ms. Stacy’s back windows. We didn’t make it that far. The moment he saw us approaching Simon burst out the door and came running. “Jack-Jack!” he squealed. Liv and Abby weren’t far behind.
Jack-Jack’s tail did a million miles an hour. He had three faces to kiss and not just two. He danced at their feet, twirling in between them, soaking up all the attention.
“C’mon, Jack-Jack!” Simon yelled. “We’re it!” The two of them took off running. Simon’s laughter bounced across the schoolyard and made my insides melt.
“His day wasn’t perfect,” Ms. Stacy said, joining me outside, “but it was better. I think now that he sees what his reward really is, he’ll try even harder.”
I looked at her and smiled. Jack-Jack was helping Simon. Little did we know, before we got done, he would do something even greater.
“Liv and Abby were terrific,” Ms. Stacy said. “My two little assistants. They gave Simon gentle reminders of Jack-Jack to keep him on track and following directions throughout the day. I just have to be careful they don’t start mothering Simon too much. Nobody wants too many mothers. One is enough.”
I laughed. Boy, was she right about that.
Ms. Stacy snickered. “C’mon. Let’s go inside while they have their fun.”
We left the field and walked back into the school and who do you think we ran into? Yup, you guessed it. Rory.
He waved and I gave a quick wave back, but then I lowered my gaze and studied the floor.
“Hi, Rory,” Ms. Stacy said. “What are you up to this afternoon?”
“Time to decorate the bulletin boards with some turkeys. We have Halloween this weekend and then it’s November. Mom says Thanksgiving’s gonna be here before we know it, which means I need to get it done.”
“Well, she’s right about that,” Ms. Stacy said. “It’s only a few weeks away. You know what they say, time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Did your plan work? Is Simon outside playing with Jack?” Rory asked.
“Simon is outside with Livvy and Abby and Jack-Jack, playing hide-and-seek,” Ms. Stacy replied. “Today was a better day.”
“That’s great!” he exclaimed.
His genuine and enthusiastic response made me smile and glance at him again. He caught me peeking and smiled back. But then something weird happened. Rory looked away before I did. He was the one studying the floor now, scuffing his foot back and forth.
He cleared his throat. “So Thea, I was wondering…” He started slow, but then everything came out in a rush. “You wanna be my partner for our rocket project. I know you still haven’t talked to me, but we can use sign language and we see each other a lot and I think we could make a good team.”
My whole body tensed. He sounded just like Charlie had with the frogs in first grade. But was he asking or telling? I couldn’t respond. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know the answer.
“I usually do my projects alone,” he admitted, “but I thought it’d be fun to have a partner this time.”
It was too much. Too soon. Too unexpected. I didn’t know what to do—so I ran.
37
IT’S OKAY
I finally started to breathe again when I reached the safety of Ms. Stacy’s classroom.
“You weren’t ready for that, I take it,” Ms. Stacy said when she caught up to me.
I shook my head.
“For what it’s worth, I think you should be his partner.”
I looked at her with wide eyes.
“What? I think you should.”
I turned away. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I just can’t.”
Ms. Stacy came and stood in front of me then. She grasped me by the shoulders. “Thea, I need you to listen to me. Are you listening?”
I gave a slight nod.
“It’s okay for you to make another friend.”
I didn’t move.
“Do you hear me? It’s okay.”
I stared at the floor. I didn’t want Ms. Stacy to see my eyes watering. I sniffled and tried to steady my breathing.
She handed me a tissue. “It’s okay,” she said again.
I blew my nose and dragged my shirt sleeve across my eyes. “Doesn’t Rory have other friends he could ask?”
“Yes, but he’s asked you.”
“Why?”
Ms. Stacy smiled and shrugged. “Maybe because you’re a legend,” she said.
I scoffed.
“Thea, Charlie would’ve liked Rory. I know he would’ve. Rory is a smart, caring, all-around great kid. Give him a chance.”
I blew my nose and wiped my face again. Then I straightened and took a breath. Standing tall and steadying myself, I said, “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, I think I’ll give Rory a hand with those turkeys.”
I could still see Ms. Stacy smiling when I left her classroom.
38
DREAMLAND
I walk down the hall, holding my journal close to my chest. Rory is hard at work on his bulletin board, a hilarious display of turkeys playing football underneath the words HAPPY THANKSGIVING. I let a giggle slip and quickly cover my mouth—but it’s too late.
Rory turns and sees me approaching. “It’s silly, I know,” he says, embarrassed, “but I think the kids will like it.”
“I love it,” I sign.
Rory smiles.
Slowly, I flip my journal around for him to see. I have the letters OK written across a clean page.
“Okay?” he says, puzzled.
I nod.
His scowl deepens.
I nod again—and then he gets it.
Rory’s face brightens. “Okay, you’ll be my partner?” he asks hesitantly.
Now I smile. I lower my journal and nod once more.
“Great!” he exclaims.
I place my backpack and journal off to the side and then grab a laminated football helmet from the folder he has sitting on the ground. I pass it to him so that he can put it on one of his turkeys. After he has it attached, I pass him another one—and this time my fingers brush against his. I feel my face burning and stare in the other direction. I step to the side and accidentally kick my journal. It slides across the floor, opening to a different page.
Rory bends to get it for me. “Whoa, Thea. These drawings are amazing,” he says. He turns the page, curious to see if I have more, then quickly closes my journal and hands it back to me, suddenly aware that he’s being nosy. The only person I’d shared my journal with outside of my family was Charlie—but I am not upset that Rory saw it.
* * *
—
I woke to the warm sun shining on my face and rolled onto my side. Jack-Jack yawned and stretched, pushing his back against my belly. I reached down and gave him a pet. My nightmares had stopped ever since he started sleeping with me, but this was my first happy dream. And the truth was, I didn’t know whether I had Jack to thank for it—or Rory.
39
NOVEMBER’S REGULAR ROUTINE
November fell into a regular routine. I would hurry home after school to get Jack and then he and I would leash-walk—with him still cowering and tugging to get away from the buses and other rumbling engines—to Johnny Arena Elementary, where he’d get to play with Simon and my sisters while I worked with Rory on our rocket project.
Simon still wasn’t perfect for Ms. Stacy, but his improvement was remarkable. Liv and Abby never complained about him anymore. Not once had he missed out on playing with Jack-Jack. The boy loved our dog—and Jack loved him.
Hide-and-seek was still the favorite game among the group, but they were enjoying a new activity for now. The leaves had begun to fall and there was a section of the schoolyard already covered in them. Ms. Stacy brought in a rake, and they were having a blast pulling the leaves into piles and running and jumping into them—Jack-Jack included, of course.
It was fun to watch, and I got to witness a lot of it because I was outside working on my rocket with Rory. Launch Day was scheduled for the week of Thanksgiving, so we were getting close.
At this point, my sign-language skills had improved enough that Rory and I were able to communicate and work together quite well. It was all thanks to Rory’s book and the videos I’d been watching online. What can I say, I wanted to learn. I wanted to be a good partner—and I liked talking to Rory, even if I wasn’t using my voice.
Mostly, our conversing was about our project, but after we’d met a few times I finally found the nerve to ask him why he chose me and not anyone else to be his partner.
“It’s a long story,” he said, and sighed. “And it doesn’t really matter.”
The tone of his voice told me that it did matter, but I didn’t push him. I, of all people, knew when somebody didn’t want to talk.
In addition to these important non-science-related developments, we had made significant strides on our project. We had constructed two different nose cones, a large one and small one, and we had also built several versions of fins, which are the wing things that sit on the bottom of the rocket. The goal was to get your rocket to go as high as possible, and two of the biggest variables impacting its performance were the nose cone and the fins.
It was my idea to build all the different sizes and styles so we could switch them in and out until we found the combination that made our rocket fly best. Rory thought I was so smart when I first mentioned that, and he thought I was a genius when he saw my notes and sketches of the different prototypes I envisioned.
“Holy cow! Thea, this is incredible! I’m mean the drawings are great, but you could be working for NASA with all of these notes and calculations about the design.”
It felt good to hear him say that, but it felt even better to be doing a science project again. Even if this wasn’t studying nature, I loved the process. Our work reminded me of how Charlie would test out different lures and stretches of water on Clover Creek until he found what caught the fish. I knew then our rocket was going to soar.
On this particular afternoon, we were ready to test our rocket for the first time. Mr. Morris had a special contraption that he would be using to launch everyone’s rocket on the big day, but for our immediate purposes Rory had rigged up our own device, which consisted of a launch pad, cork, and bicycle air pump. (I thought he was the genius after seeing that.) The idea was quite simple: After adding some water, we’d cork the bottle and position it upside down on the launch pad. Then we’d continuously pump air into it, building up pressure until it blew the cork out of the bottom, thus propelling the rocket upward.
Rory got our rocket situated and started filling it with air. I held my breath in anticipation. Waiting. Waiting. Up and down he continued working the handle. How much was it going to take? I began to wonder. And then—bam! All at once our vessel shot off the ground, climbing higher than I ever expected.
“Wow!” Simon cried, craning his neck back to see. “Blamo! Bango! Whamo!” he cheered, dancing in celebration, which had my sisters laughing and Jack running around and barking.
A few seconds later our project came crashing down into their pile of leaves.
“Do it again! Do it again!” Simon shouted, retrieving our rocket and running back to us with it in his hands, Jack-Jack on his heels the whole way. “Do it again, Rory,” he insisted.
“Give me a chance, and I will.”
I switched out the nose cones and got things hooked up and in position, and then Rory did it again. We conducted a total of ten trials that afternoon, some better than others, but overall it was a great success.
“I know what would help your rocket go even higher,” Simon claimed when we were packing up.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Rory asked him.
“Your rocket needs a name. It’s supposed to have a name painted down the side.”
“You know what, you’re right,” Rory said, glancing at me and smirking. “I think we’ll call it the Simonator.”
“Yeah!” Simon cheered. “The Simonator!” He raced around the field with his arms held out like an airplane doing figure eights with sound effects until Jack-Jack bounded over and knocked him to the ground and started tickling him with his nose. Simon’s giggles echoed across the schoolyard. I swear, Jack was the only one I knew with more energy than that little boy.
When I looked up, I spotted Ms. Stacy standing off to the side, surveying the scene with a big smile on her face. There was an awful lot for her to be happy about.
40
THANKSGIVING
It was Thanksgiving. In Mom’s opinion, the most-special family dinner of the year. Christmas and Easter ranked pretty high, but there were presents and baskets that took away from the significance of the meal. She had a point. At Thanksgiving the focus really was just on the food and—major eye roll—simply being together around the table. Worst of all, my parents liked to add a layer of torture by asking each of us to say what we were thankful for before eating anything.
“I’ll go first,” Mom said. “I’m thankful for our health and beautiful new home, and I’m especially thankful your father got past his dumb crate idea with Jackson.”
On cue, Jack barked. We all jumped and then my sisters and I lost it. We couldn’t hold in our giggles, and once we got going it was hard to stop. It wasn’t like Mom to make a joke during this tradition, so that just made it even funnier. Add to that the fact that Jack never barked at the table and that made it funnier still. It was like Jack was agreeing with Mom, emphasizing that the crate really was a dumb idea. I glanced down and gave his head a rub.
“Ha, ha,” Dad said. “Well, I’m thankful for my own brilliant idea that brought Mr. Jackson into our lives in the first place. But I’m most thankful to see my daughter laughing again—even if it is at my own expense.”
That was really sweet, but talk about taking the mood from light and fun to super serious. Jeez, Dad. I was grateful for my sisters after that, because they got us back to light and fun.
“I’m thankful that Jack-Jack is helping Simon so he’s not being naughty in school anymore and bothering me or taking my stuff,” Abby said.
“I’m thankful for that too, and for Ms. Stacy,” Livvy said.
It was my turn. I took a breath. “I’m thankful for my family, and Jack-Jack, and Ms. Stacy,” I said, reaching down to give Jack’s head another scratch.
“Don’t forget Rory,” Livvy teased.
“Yeah, and your rocket, ’cause you won,” Abby added.
Mom smiled at me from across the table.
“All right,” Dad said, “let’s dig in while it’s still hot.”
We began making our plates and passing the food around.
And Rory, I thought. Our rocket did sail higher than any others. And when it finally came back down to earth, I turned and hugged him I was so excited.
“We won,” I whispered.
“So that’s what your voice sounds like,” he said.
And then we ran to fetch our winning rocket—the Simonator.
I had much to be thankful for on this Thanksgiving, when I didn’t know if I’d ever feel that way again.
41
SANTA
What was supposed to be a low-key weekend turned out to be anything but.
Liv and Abby went grocery shopping with Mom so that they could pick out the snacks they wanted for their lunches during the week, and on their way home they heard the now-infamous commercial on the radio. It was an advertisement for family photos with Santa at the local pet store.
“Bring your dog to meet Santa” was all my sisters needed to hear.
Mom agreed it was a great idea because then she could use the photo for our Christmas card this year. Dad and I were filled in on the sudden plans as soon as they got home. So after we got the groceries put away and grabbed some lunch, we donned our ugly sweaters and made the trip to Pete’s Pet Supplies.
The line for dogs to meet the big guy wrapped around the store. Jack-Jack sniffed more butts than I could count. He had fun saying hi and making friends, but eventually he got bored. So did I. I wasn’t paying attention when we moved forward and were suddenly standing next to the large bin of tennis balls. And I wasn’t paying attention when Jack lifted his leg and peed all over them. By the time I came to my senses and realized what he was doing, it was too late.
What do you do after something like that happens? Do you tell someone or pretend you didn’t see it? Remember: Santa’s watching.
That was a tough one, made much easier because I had a little sister. Once Abby spotted Jack-Jack’s yellow puddle of urine spreading across the floor she hurried and told the nearest store employee, a purple-haired guy who, according to his badge, happened to be named Thor.
