A & L Do Summer (3 page)

Laurel's moods shift at mind-blowing speed. Two minutes ago these were wild killer pigs. Now she's feeling sorry for them. But a good idea is a good idea. “If I'm right—and I know I am—we just fill a container with water,” she continues, “and our three bacon bits follow it right out the door.”

A flashbulb goes off in my brain. “Or right into the elevator, which has to be easier than persuading them to walk down the steps.”

I leave Laurel minding the pigs while I raid the lounge for water containers. Now that I'm not wrestling Carmine, I notice that the lounge is cramped and dingy with walls the same yellowish brown as the pig deposits on the floor outside. In the middle of the room is a scarred-up table surrounded by eight mismatched cafeteria chairs. A refrigerator older than my grandmother stands beside the bathroom door. Carmine is stretched out on a sagging couch with his head on the arm nearest the door. When I walk in, he opens his eyes and yawns.

“Go back to sleep, troublemaker.” Carmine groans and his eyes droop shut. Why doesn't he obey like that when I ask him to do something important?

At least I don't have to waste time looking for a water bowl. A stainless-steel bowl half-filled with popcorn is sitting on the countertop beside the sink. As I pick it up, three cockroaches—one of them bigger than my thumb—scamper out of the leftovers. They dive over the rim of the bowl and disappear into the crack between the counter and the wall.

My teeth clench against a scream. Pig poop and cockroaches. What's next? Holding the bowl with two fingers, I prepare to dump the bug-ridden popcorn into the trash can. Then I stop. Maybe the pigs are hungry. A few cockroaches won't bother them. I find a grocery sack under the sink, pour in the popcorn, and fill the greasy bowl with water.

With the sack crushed in my armpit and holding the bowl of water in both hands, I lurch back into the hall. “Make way for Aspen Parks, caterer to the stars. I don't like to brag, but my clients include Miss Piggy, Porky, Wilbur, and Piglet, just to name a few!”

“Shh! Not so loud. I just got them calmed down.” Laurel leans against the wall, rubbing one of the pigs on the snout and scratching another behind the ears. The third one is snuffling her leg. “Come here and touch them. They feel all warm and bristly.”

The skin between my shoulder blades bunches up. “Uh, maybe later. I've got water and popcorn. Let's see if they'll follow us to the elevator.”

“Do you hear that?” Laurel coos. “Popcorn
and
water! Yummy!”

I hold the popcorn sack at arm's length. “Here, pigs. Popcorn. Good stuff.”

Their heads swivel toward me, their ears perk up, and their blocky heads bob up and down. The next thing I know, six beady eyes are trained on me, and the grunting, snuffling trio of pigs is closing in fast. I hand the popcorn off to Laurel and hold the water down where they can see it.

“Show time, Laurel,” I say from the corner of my mouth.

We shuffle backward toward the elevator with the pigs hot on our toes. To keep them interested, Laurel scatters popcorn kernels along the way. The pigs vacuum up the corn without breaking stride and keep on coming. I reach back and push the elevator button without taking my eyes off them. Who knows what a hungry pig might find appetizing?

When the doors slide apart, I set the bowl of greasy water on the floor and back out in a hurry. “Toss the popcorn inside,” I tell Laurel. “Then we close the doors and let them out on the first floor.”

“We can't leave them alone in the elevator!” Laurel says. “They'll be scared.”

I rub my aching temples. “Fine. Keep your new friends company. I'll meet you downstairs.”

Laurel steps to the back of the elevator and shakes the popcorn bag. “Come on, girls. Go for a ride with Aunt Laurel.” The pigs troop in with her, and she pushes the button.

That girl is in serious need of a pet.

I sprint down the stairs to the first floor, but Laurel and the pigs are already waiting for me in the hall outside Principal Hammond's office. The pigs are rooting for old maids in the torn grocery bag, and Laurel is patting one of them on the back. “Rose and Daisy liked the elevator, but Sunflower here seemed nervous. Weren't you, baby girl?”

Laurel rests her hand on Sunflower's head. “I wuz scared, Auntie Laurel.” Laurel's lips barely move and the gravely, baby-talk voice sounds nothing like her. “But you made me feel all better. I wuv you.”

My neck hairs prickle. Laurel's teacher impersonations are amazing, but her pig-channeling routine is spooky. I'm half expecting “Auntie Laurel” to sling a leg over Sunflower's back and ride off into the sunrise. Seeing this side of her leaves me feeling unsettled, like last year when a bunch of us went to Hooters after a basketball game and saw the school librarian waiting tables.

“This is great. Now we just set them free, and we can go home.” Laurel is scratching Daisy's cheek. Or maybe that's Rose. “Being a good citizen is exhausting.”

“We can't just turn them loose on the street, you know.”

Laurel gives me a blank look. Then she rubs her eyes with her pig-scratching hand, and the glazed look clears. “God, of course not! They might get lost or hit by a car. What are we going to do?”

I let out a defeated sigh. “The one thing I wanted to avoid at all costs. I'll have to call Manny.” I pat my shorts looking for my cell phone and discover two problems. First, my gym shorts don't have pockets. Second, my phone is at home on my bed. “Let me use your cell.”

“No freaking way!” Laurel shouts, causing the pigs to do a nervous shuffle that's dangerously close to my bare toes. “Manny can't see me like this. My hair is a mess, and I haven't brushed my teeth.” She holds her hand up to her mouth and breathes on it. “My breath smells awful!”

Pigs have been rubbing against her, and a chunk of poop is stuck on top of her left shoe, but yeah, her breath is the big issue. “Come on, Manny won't even …” I haven't yet found a kind way to tell Laurel that yearning after my brother is a waste of time. Manny likes his girls tall, slutty, and really busty. If his selection process goes beyond that, I haven't seen evidence of it.

But Laurel's not listening to me anyway. “Can't we call somebody else?”

“Like who? A pig chauffeur?” I throw my hands up in frustration. “Our choices are your dad, my parents, or Manny. You choose.”

“You've lived here your whole life, and you don't know anybody who has a pickup?”

“Some of my parents' friends, maybe. And, of course, there's Buster. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to drive back here and pick up the very same pigs he dumped off. We could get Ferret and Kong to help us load them up.”

Laurel sighs and hands over her phone.

Manny answers the third time I call. “Laurel, quit calling,” he mumbles. “This isn't Aspen's phone.”

“Don't hang up! It's Aspen. Laurel and I have a situation.” I explain in as few words as possible, surprised at Manny's low-key reaction—until I hear the snore. “Manny, wake up! Laurel and I are being held hostage at the high school! It's life or death!”

“Then call the police.” The last word is muffled by a yawn.

“Listen, Manfred, I blew my weekend busting my ass for your graduation party. If you're not here in ten minutes, I'm telling Mom what you did Saturday night.”

“Keep your shorts on. I'm coming.”

“So what did he do Saturday night?” Laurel wants to know when I close the phone.

“I wish I knew. After tonight, I'm going to need some major leverage.”

I'm waiting in the parking lot when Manny coasts in, after cutting his lights a block away. I step up to the driver's side, and he powers down the window. “This better be serious.”

Pig tales don't lend themselves to sugarcoating, so I lay out the facts. The further I get into the story, the lower Manny sinks in his seat. After I finish, he's so still that I wonder if he's asleep with his eyes open. Then his head moves slowly from side to side. “So right this minute, your friend Laurel and three medium-size pigs are standing outside Hammond's office?” I nod. “And what am I supposed to do about it?”

“Well, the pigs aren't
that
big. I thought maybe the three of us could lift them into your trunk—”

Manny explodes out of his car. “No way are pigs coming near my car! I just spent a hundred and fifty bucks to have this baby detailed.” He lays his hand protectively on the roof.

I sort of knew he was going to say that. “Look, Manny, if we don't get the pigs out of here, Laurel and I will be suspended—probably worse.”

“And how is that my problem?”

“Laurel and I don't have transportation, so it's only logical for people to think you were in on it. Laurel may even have mentioned your name on her Facebook page. Think how upset Mom and Dad will be when you're banned from graduation.”

Manny's jaw works back and forth, grinding the enamel off his teeth. “Show me.”

Laurel's sitting against the wall with her legs stretched out. The pigs are lying on either side of her, asleep. She puts her fingers to her lips.

“Not that big?” Manny growls. “They're half grown.” He walks away, shaking his head. But he flips open his phone and makes a call.

I step over a snoring pig and settle in next to Laurel. “Who's he calling?” she whispers. I shrug, lean my head on the wall, and close my eyes. The next thing I know, Laurel is poking my shoulder. “Aspen, wake up. Manny's friend with the truck is here.”

“Good.” I wipe the drool from my chin and push myself to a standing position. Some stray hairs on the back of my head snag on the brick wall, and I yank them free. “Let's get this show on the road so I can go home and sleep.”

I'm slumped against the wall, rubbing my eyes and yawning, when a deep voice says, “They're here all right, just like you said—pigs at Cottonwood Creek High.”

My eyes pop open. Beside Manny is a tall guy wearing jeans and a green flannel shirt. His hair is dark reddish brown, and the freckled forearms sticking out of his rolled-up sleeves are packed with muscle. When he sees me checking him out, his face flushes.

“I was referring to the four-legged animals, not you girls,” he says.

Laurel gets to her feet. “And we appreciate it.”

I'd like to say something clever, but my tongue is paralyzed. For no rational reason, I've always been magnetically attracted to red-haired guys. And this guy is way more than a redhead. He's tall and built and—okay, maybe he's not exactly handsome. Wait, that's not true. He is exactly handsome. From ten feet away I can see the electric blue of his eyes. All of that put together makes him the Superman of redheads.

“Clay, that's Laurel, my sister's best friend,” Manny says. “And the mute holding up the wall is my sister, Aspen.”

Clay nods. “Nice to meet you both. Great names, too. Outdoorsy.” To keep my eyes from meeting his, I watch my feet as I step out of the Magic Circle of Pigs.

“Okay. This should be easy.” Clay steps to the nearest pig and taps her shoulder. “Up, pig.” His voice is firm but calm. I wouldn't mind having his hand on my shoulder—or other select locations, for that matter.

The pig must be familiar with that command because she grunts and pushes herself up.

“That one's Sunflower,” Laurel tells him. “These two are Rose and Daisy.”

Clay cuts her a puzzled look. “I wasn't aware that Dale Crawford named his pigs. As far as I know, the notches in their ears are as far as he goes toward identification.”

Laurel rests her hands on her hips. “Those are the names Aspen and I gave them.”

How did I get involved in this?

“They're all girls, aren't they?” she asks.

“Human females are girls.” Clay thumps Rose's flank, and she stands, too. “Female pigs are gilts until they have piglets. After they farrow they're called sows.” He repeats the tapping process with Daisy. “These three are too young to breed.”

“You hear that, Aspen? We're not the only virgins at Cottonwood Creek High after all.” Laurel giggles at her own humor.

Manny barks out a laugh, and I look for a place to hide.

“Okay then,” Clay says, wisely choosing not to respond. Now that all three pigs are standing, he taps Sunflower behind the left shoulder. She slowly rotates until her face is pointing toward the side door. “You never hit a pig on the rump. All they need is a tap on the flank to let them know which direction to head.”

Laurel walks to the pig on Clay's left and taps its flank. She turns toward the door. “Come on, Aspen. You guide Daisy. This is cool.”

I glance at Manny, who shakes his head. “She's all yours, Sis.”

What am I worried about? I've seen how tame they are.

I walk to Daisy and poke her in the side with my index finger. Her bristles feel like the brush Dad uses to clean the grill. She looks at me from the corner of her eye, but she doesn't move. Clay and Laurel's pigs are shuffling down the hall, leaving Daisy and me behind. If I can't do this simple thing, Clay will think I'm a loser.

“Come on, Daisy,” I whisper near her ear. “Help a girl out.” This time I poke her with two fingers. With a grunt, she follows Sunflower and Rose. In his usual helpful way, Manny props his elbow on a glass display case and smirks as Daisy and I plod past.

As I catch up to Clay and Laurel, Clay says, “You two are naturals. If you get bored this summer, you can come out and help me on the farm.”

“What do you raise?” Laurel asks. My tongue locks up around cute guys, but she can make conversation with anyone.

“I'm experimenting with nontraditional crops. I've planted thirty acres with amaranth, and I've got a hundred acres in prairie seed.” Clay looks over his shoulder to include me in his answer. “It's a renewable crop that's great for the environment, especially here in Iowa. With global warming on everyone's mind, prairie restoration is skyrocketing. On the downside, seed harvesting is incredibly demanding, but …”