No Small Thing (14 page)

Right. I grab my books and hurry down the hall. The last person I want to see is old Turtle Neck, our principal. We call him that because his head melts right into his neck, and it’s all wrinkled, like a turtle’s. On top of that he’s slow. He couldn’t move fast if someone lit his pants on fire, which I’ve thought of doing more than once….

Anyway, I want to get to history class early to talk to Cheryl alone before all the other kids show up. But Turtle Neck keeps me waiting, asking all kinds of stupid questions that nobody needs answers to, like how many times was I late this semester, and doesn’t my mother work over at such-and-such law firm. I can feel myself growing old in Turtle Neck’s office. I feel like I’m going tostart smashing things as I watch the minute hand on the clock practically spin around its face.

At last he lets me go, and I run to class. I’m sure my hair is a mess again and I can feel the sweat under my arms. Mrs. Malanus shoots me a look as I flip the late slip on her desk and take my seat without looking at the rest of the class. The kids snicker. I check the fly of my jeans just to be sure. It’s closed.

I take the time to collect myself and organize my books. I look over the shoulder of the kid in front of me to see what page we’re on, then settle in. When enough time has passed for the class to forget about my late entry, I turn slightly in my chair to look over at Cheryl. I have to do it casually so she doesn’t think I’m a weirdo. I decide to use the old pencil-drop distraction to accomplish my mission. The pencil hits the floor as planned, but bounces funny on its eraser and flips up to the front of the class, rolling to a stop in front of Mrs. Malanus’s desk. She sneers over top of her bifocals like she just ate a piece of bad cheese.

“When you’re ready, Mr. Estabrooks….”

The class snickers again and I can feel my face turn red. I retrieve my pencil and slink back to my seat. I sit staring straight ahead until I can’t stand it any more, and finally decide to just turn aroundand look at Cheryl in her seat at the back of the class. Will she be wearing her tight blue sweater? Will her hair be up in a ponytail, or down around her face? I run my hand through my hair, then slowly turn in my seat. But she’s not there! My heart sinks as I sit there staring at her empty desk.

“Did you lose something, Mr. Estabrooks?”

“No, ma’am.”

I turn forward in my seat, my hopes dashed. Where could she be? Why didn’t she come to school today?

The rest of the morning drags on and on until I think I’m going to go crazy. I don’t even want to watch the special film the teachers rented for us as a Christmas treat. I bide my time just long enough, then slip through the school doors and run to the park. I feel so disappointed about Cheryl that I don’t even care if I get in trouble. I don’t care if Turtle Neck himself comes looking for me. I kick my way along the path towards home, scheming ways to meet up with Cheryl over the Christmas holidays. I think about delivering something to her house, or walking past her place over and over, or even bringing Smokey downtown and right to her doorstep to take her for a ride. I laugh at this idea, then think it may not be a bad one at all….

That’s when I notice two figures bundled close together, sitting on the old cannons at the gate to the park. Two kids playing hooky, I tell myself. Guess they didn’t want to watch some stupid Christmas film either. But when I get closer to the cannons I can see that it’s Cheryl and Tyler. There’s no mistaking that they’re together. Cheryl doesn’t even see me because she’s got her mouth planted right on Tyler’s lips.

In an instant, the thin web connecting our worlds is broken and I can feel the rage filling up inside me. I want to knock them both off the cannons. I want to call Cheryl every bad name I can think of. I want to beat Tyler to a pulp so that he can never kiss another girl again.

But all I do is walk past them, staring like a helpless fool. I think Cheryl sees me, because our eyes meet for a second. She pretends not to notice me and goes on kissing Tyler. I keep on walking until I’m at least two blocks beyond the park. And then I run. I run as hard and as fast as I’ve ever run in my life. I want to keep running until I can’t breathe any more, until I’m blind and deaf and never want to love anyone ever again. I can feel my heart bursting inside my chest and I’m sure I’m going to die. That will show her! I imagine myself dead and stretched out in the street, thepolice cars blocking the road, and Cheryl crying hysterically at my feet because it’s her fault that I’m gone.

When I get home, I barely kick my boots off before stumbling up the stairs to my room. I slam my door, throw myself on my bed and bury my face in my pillow. I try to be strong and not care, but it doesn’t work. I can feel the tears running down my face. “That witch. That little witch!”

It’s all I can do to keep from sobbing like a girl. But it’s my fault, really. Why would someone like Cheryl Hanson have anything to do with a guy like me? I must have been out of my skull to think that she would like me, let alone want to be my girlfriend. But why did she kiss me then? My heart feels like it’s ripped in half. I glare at the yellowed ceiling in my room. It’s nothing like the colour of daffodils, I think. It’s the colour of neglect. The fist hits me in the stomach again and the whole room seems to breathe in and out around me. I lie like this for hours, until Ma comes and taps on my door.

“Nathaniel, are you all right? Your people are calling wondering where their papers are.”

That’s what Ma calls my paper route customers—my people. Of course they want to know where their stupid papers are, I think.

Heaven forbid they should miss a day of breaking news in this stupid town. If “my people” had real lives, they wouldn’t be so concerned about their damn papers. “I’m sick,” I call out.

Ma opens the door and peers in. “What’s the matter?”

I turn my face to the wall so she won’t see that I’ve been crying. “I don’t know. A cold or something, I think.” I sniff a couple of times as proof.

“You sound all stuffed up.” Ma comes across the room and puts her cool hand on my head. “You feel kind of hot. I’d better take your temperature.”

“I’m fine, Ma. I just need some rest.”

“How about a bath and a cup of tea? That’ll make you feel better.”

“Sure. Fine. Whatever. I’ll be all right.”

“I’ll tell Cid and Queenie to deliver your papers tonight. They know the route, right?”

“Yeah. They’ve delivered them for me before.”

Ma leaves the room. I can hear her drawing the bath. She comes back and sticks her head through the door. “Go on and jump in. I’ll bring you some tea when it’s ready.”

I really don’t want a bath or tea but I can’t tell Ma that. She’ll just poke and pry until she finds out why I’m really in bed. I lower myself into thesteaming tub, the water so hot it’s barely tolerable. That’s Ma’s way. She believes in the power of a good boil to heal whatever ails. I must admit, feeling the hot water against my skin does make me feel a little bit better. I splash my face, delicately at first, then more vigorously as I get used to the temperature. Finally, I sink right down in the tub until just my eyes and nose are sticking above the water like an old alligator’s.

Through the water I hear a bang on the door. I sit up with a loud
splash
. It must be Ma with my tea. There’s another bang on the door, but this time louder and angrier.

“I need to get in there!”

It’s Cid, wanting to perform some mysterious and lengthy bathroom ritual. I take the opportunity for a little revenge. I sink back into the water.

“I just got in. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“I need to get my things from in there.”

“Well, that’s tough! I’ll come out when I’m ready!”

No sooner do I say these words than the door is kicked open, sending the dead bolt flying across the bathroom. The door swings helplessly on its hinges as Cid marches across the floor like a queen. I can’t believe she would do this and I just sit there in shock, gripping the shower curtainaround me, my mouth gaping open. She gathers her things imperiously, then marches back out. She doesn’t even have the decency to shut the door.

Then Ma appears with my tea. “Who broke the lock?” she demands.

I wrench the shower curtain shut in disgust. “Can’t anyone have any privacy around here!”

Ma looks at me in surprise, then leaves the tea on the edge of the tub, closing the door on her way out. I sit in the tub fuming over how I’m going to get Cid back. I think about smashing all her little glass animal figurines that Dad gave her over the years. I think about cutting holes in all her socks, or putting glue in her hair, or something. I’m so mad thinking about how I’m going to wreck Cid’s life that I forget to think about Cheryl and Tyler. At least for now….

By the time I decide what I’m going to do to Cid, my anger has cooled, for the most part. I can’t hold a grudge the way Cid can, and I can’t run crying to Ma the way Queenie does when her feelings are hurt. So I’ve learned to think my anger out and let it go. Looking at Cid’s little figurines all neatly arranged on her dresser, I can’t bring myself to actually smash them. So I wrap them in toilet paper and hide them behind her dresser. And then I wait.

I sit on my bed reading. It’s long past dark before I hear Cid and Queenie bustle in from delivering my papers. I hear them call out to let Ma know they’re home, then hear them tramp up the stairs. I wait like a spider for my victim. Cid and Queenie go into their room and it’s Queenie who first notices the figurines are missing. Cid figures out immediately that I’m at the bottom of this diabolical abduction.

“Nathaniel, you scumbag! What did you do with them?”

I look up from my book like I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Don’t play dumb! Where are my animals?”

“Your animals? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do, you liar! Give them back!”

“I don’t have them.”

Cid storms out of my room, and I can hear her opening and closing her dresser drawers in a frenzy, searching for the figurines. Suddenly she screams and starts kicking her dresser in frustration. I jump out of bed to try to stop her.

“Cut it out, you psycho!”

“Where are they? Where did you put them?”

She grabs me by the shirt but I knock her hand away. “I’m not going to tell you until you back off! And I want you to say sorry for kicking the door in today.”

She lets go of my shirt and folds her arms across her chest. She stares at me, her eyes burning with hatred. “Fine! I’m sorry. Now, where are they?”

I feel like making her grovel, but for some reason I think better of it. “Just keep your hands off me,” I warn her as I reach behind the dresser. I feel around for the toilet paper bundle and pull it out. “Here are your precious little animals.”

I hand the bundle to Cid, who quickly unwrapsthe figurines. But when she opens the bundle, the little animals are smashed into a million pieces. Cid’s jaw drops and then her face collapses. “My animals!”

“Oh, no!” Queenie gasps.

Cid looks up at me in disbelief. “How could you? How could you do it? My poor little animals.”

She sits down on her bed and starts to cry like I haven’t seen her do since she was little. I feel sick to my stomach again. I’m glad I didn’t make her grovel, at least.

“I didn’t mean for them to smash, Cid. Honest. I only meant to make you mad for a bit. I didn’t know you would go crazy and kick the dresser. We can fix them. Here. Give them to me.”

Cid just sits there sobbing, holding the animals delicately in their toilet paper shroud. I take the bundle from her and inspect the damage. The figurines are shattered beyond repair, with only a few horse and sheep heads still intact.

“I’m so sorry, Cid. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

Cid doesn’t answer. She falls back on her bed and cries into her pillow. I look over to Queenie for understanding, but she just stares at me, and I can tell by her eyes what she is thinking of me. Ifeel like the biggest creep on the planet and there’s nothing I can do but leave the room in shame. I feel doubly bad because Cid had delivered my papers the way Ma asked.

Suddenly it doesn’t matter that she stole my best shirt and kicked in the bathroom door. It doesn’t matter that she’s a big boss all of the time and drives me crazy. None of these things matter, because what I’ve done can’t be fixed. All I can do is lie in bed and hate myself for the rest of the night.

* * *

I wake up the next morning with an idea in my head. It’s Saturday—only two days before Christmas. But I still have time to right the wrong I did to Cid. I decide to skip breakfast altogether so I can hit the road early. I leave a note on the kitchen table telling Cid and Queenie to go to the barn alone. Then I bundle up, grab my carrier bag and walk across town to the newspaper depot.

The back doors are open at the depot and I can see the papers flying in a giant newsprint ribbon on the machine. The men working inside quickly bind the papers into bundles as they come off the press, thumping them into tall piles at the front of the warehouse. The air smells heavily of greaseand ink. The machines are so loud that the men communicate through gestures and nods. One of them notices me standing by the door. He whistles to another man and points at me. The man walks over to where I’m standing. He’s carrying a clipboard. His hands are stained black with ink.

“Can I help you?” he shouts over the machines.

“I want to pick my papers up early. I don’t want to wait for the truck to drop them off.” I lift my carrier bag to show him that I’m legitimate.

The man gestures toward the stacks of papers. “I got a million papers here, kid. I don’t know which bundle is yours.”

“I need seventy-two. Just tell the driver I picked them up.”

“Which driver?”

“Bill. The old guy. He drives a brown van.”

“You think I know everybody?” He turns as though to walk away.

“Look, it’s just this once. I’ve got to get these papers out before the stores close. Please, mister.” I look at him with my neediest face. I’m not sure if he will budge because he doesn’t look like the kind of guy who budges very often.