Amphibian (19 page)

She said, ‘What do you mean by that? And stop being so melodramatic.'

‘I liked the colour it was before,' I told her.

‘But that colour was too green,' she said.

‘How can something be too green?' I asked. ‘Is this about getting rid of something that reminds me that I can't watch the Green Channel? Because I'm not going to forget about that.'

My mother didn't say anything for a moment and then she said, ‘This is not about you, Phin.'

‘And besides, you're making the room smaller,' I said, ‘and I thought you're always saying how you need more space.'

‘Yellow will make the room look bigger because it's a lightish colour,' she said.

‘But you're actually making the room smaller because each layer of paint adds thickness to the wall. That means the walls are getting closer and closer,' I told her.

She looked at me and laughed. ‘I never thought about that,' she said. ‘You likely have a point. Your brain is so busy – doesn't it ever get tired?'

‘No,' I said. ‘Doesn't yours ever get bored?'

She looked at me surprised. ‘Well, I see you're feeling better. Would you like to help paint?'

‘No! Why would I want to help you do something that looks like the inside of a toilet bowl?' I yelled. I knew this would make her angry, but something in me just didn't care anymore.

My mother turned away from the wall and pointed the paint-brush at me so that little globs of vitamin-coloured yellow paint dripped all over the face of George Bush on the newspaper she had down on the floor. ‘Phineas, it's good to see you up off the couch and taking an interest – as critical as it is – but I'm warning you that you are only one more rude word away from throwing it all away for the evening: the
TV
, the computer, your sketchbook, all of it. So think carefully about what you say and go get a snack to improve your mood.'

So I stomped to the kitchen to look for something to eat.

I found a box of granola bars but they were a different kind than my mother usually gets. I looked on the back of the box for
the ingredients. They were: rolled oats, rolled whole wheat, brown sugar, palm oil.

‘Mom!' I said. ‘These granola bars have palm oil in them! Palm-tree oil! Goddamn palm-tree oil!'

My mother put down her paintbrush and looked at me. She looked at me like I had just told her I found poop floating in the milk. Her eyes were really big and her mouth was open a little. She looked like a Japanese snow monkey that's just seen a snake. ‘Phineas William MacKeamish Walsh, that's it – you've lost the
TV
! Now you'd better think very carefully about where all this is going because I'm not in the mood for any more craziness!'

‘Then maybe
you
need some food to improve your mood,' I said. ‘And this is all going to Indonesia because I'm not going to eat something that is made out of something else that is killing orangutans!' I screamed. ‘And what kind of mood do you have to be in anyway to be a person who doesn't kill animals for no good reason?'

My mother yelled back at me. ‘Phin, cut it out! Stop fretting about things that happen all the way on the other side of the world, or you're going to drive yourself and everyone else crazy!'

‘That doesn't make any sense!' I screamed. ‘That's like saying only be nice to your own kid and don't worry that your next-door neighbour is eating his! Or it's like saying don't learn anything at school because you can't possibly learn everything! How about that, Mom? How about I stop going to school because what's the point? I can't learn everything!'

My mother said, ‘I can see that everything I say is going to fall on deaf ears so I'm not going to waste my breath discussing this with you any longer, Phin. This is something for you discuss with Dr. Barrett next week.'

‘You're the one with the deaf ears, so maybe it's you who needs to see a doctor!' I yelled. ‘I'm not going to waste my breath talking with you!'

My mother dropped her paintbrush on the floor and rushed over to me. She grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. Really hard. If I were a baby she might have done some serious
damage to my brain. ‘Stop acting like a crazy person!' she screamed.

When she let go of me, I ran into the kitchen and threw the granola bar in the garbage. And then I picked up the whole box of granola bars and threw them into the garbage can. Then I kicked the garbage can.

I was really surprised that my mother didn't chase me into the kitchen when the garbage can hit the wall. But I knew she heard it. Most of the time she only pretends to be deaf.

I stayed in my bedroom until supper. I was so mad even Fiddledee stayed away from me. I bet she could see the mad heat coming off my body.

After a while my mother came into my room and sat on the edge of my bed. She said, ‘I'm sorry, Phin, for shaking you like that. That was wrong and I'm sorry.'

I didn't say anything back.

‘Do you want to talk about it?'

I shook my head.

She said, ‘Okay then, let me know if you change your mind.' Then she got up and left my room, closing the door behind her.

After I calmed down a little, I wrote in my Reull book. I wrote about how the reign of the Gorachs has come to a sudden end. The creatures of Reull felt they had no choice but to call for help. They knew that each and every time a creature died on Reull, this made a creature-sized hole in the universe. There were so many holes now that the other creatures were afraid the whole galaxy might get sucked in.

The first life forms to hear the cries for help of the creatures of Reull were the Wooloofs from Planet Chary. They sent out messages to creatures on the other planets. Every life form learned of what was happening on Reull and they were all very worried. But the Wooloofs of Chary sent mental messages for them not worry – they would fix things.

So the Wooloofs immediately started landing on Reull, a few ships at a time. Only a few Gorachs noticed them, but when they told the others about the tall thin creatures with huge heads and eleven eyes in ships at the tops of the spikit tuffs, mostly everyone laughed at them and told them they were wonky.

The Wooloofs talked with the creatures of Reull and heard all their sad stories, such as how the Gorachs killed Oster babies in front of their parents by throwing them up in the air and catching them on the ends of their spears. They were brought to big gravesites that held the bones of billions of animals – the skulls of Tussleturtles, the backbones of the Ozies, the feet of the Plubbers, the hipbones of Electric Cats.

The Wooloofs cried and cried when they saw all this evidence. They couldn't believe their eleven eyes. The Wooloofs and the creatures of Reull all put their heads together and thoughts moved back and forth between them all. Finally, they had an idea. An idea that just might work.

At noon hour, I was having a lonely day because Bird was home sick, and I had nobody to talk to. I thought about maybe trying to join in on a game of tag with the Korean kids, but I didn't feel like being It the whole time. Most of those kids are really fast and can climb up on the monkey bars lickety-split. When I do it, I'm not so fast and it's more like lickety-splat. When I'm It, it's like a groundhog chasing a bunch of squirrels. The only thing that makes it kind of worth it is that one of the kids shares his Korean candy with me. Bird doesn't like it, but I kind of like how it makes my eyes water and my cheeks feel like they're flipping inside out.

I decided my best bet was to race to the swings as soon as the bell rang because that's something you can do well all alone. It sure beats wandering around the playground kicking at the dirt. I knew it was a bit risky being on the swings without Bird – there's more safety in the number two because it's easier to watch out for
bullies – but I decided to chance it. I should have known better, though. It was just too much risk. The playground is sort of like the savannah. There are all sorts of predators.

I prefer the bullies who at least give you a warning. For example, there's a bully named Walter who usually says, ‘Get out of my way, kid,' which is his strike one. If you don't move, he'll say, ‘Get out of my way, you little beep-er,' although the
beep
part is something else. If you still don't move, he'll trip you to the ground. I've never gotten to the being-tripped part, but I've seen some kids who have. It's not pretty.

I like Walter the best of the bullies for another reason too. He bullies because he wants something, and that something is usually pretty easy to figure out. It might be a swing or it might be that you're in his way at the water fountain. Bullies like Lyle are different. They just like being mean, and they really like it when their prey is scared or cries. The man who talked to our class about bullying said that bullies don't feel good about themselves and being mean is how they feel more powerful. I don't think that's true. I think some of the bullies feel
too
good about themselves.

The girl bullies are a little different. They don't kick or punch, but they say mean things. Really mean things. They tell other girls that they can't play with them because they're too ugly or they call them names like she-male.

One time I was on the swings without Bird and these two girls came up to me and told me to get off the swing. I told them I got there first. They started calling me nerdo and brainiac and said they got there first and were going to tell the teacher on me. I said, ‘Go ahead,' but they didn't. That's called bluffing. They remind me of a Caribbean stomatopod that has just molted but still threatens intruders by waving a claw. The new claw is too soft and weak for a good fight, but the intruder doesn't know that.

I had been swinging for about seven minutes when I saw trouble. Lyle was heading my way. I looked around to see if I could spot where the teachers were. That's what kids like me do on the playground.

I saw one teacher way off by the slides. She was looking in my direction, but I figured she couldn't make out the look on my face. I looked at the fifth-grade kid swinging next to me, but he wasn't paying any attention and didn't look like he'd be much help anyway. The bully experts say to stand up for each other or run to tell a teacher when you see someone being bullied but most of us don't think that's such good advice. If a kid tells on a bully he's the next one with the bruises.

I tried to get a hold of myself. I forced my face into a full-teeth smile because I knew that would calm me down. When I do that, my mother says I remind her of Snoopy from Charlie Brown or like I'm airing my teeth out. I also stopped swinging and rubbed my hands together to warm them up because on the Discovery Channel it says that you can't feel really stressed out and have warm hands at the same time.

By the time I had rubbed my hands together thirteen times, Lyle was standing beside me. He said, ‘Hey, froggie boy, get the fuck off the swing.'

I didn't say anything. I tried to stare straight ahead. Then I stopped warming my hands and started swinging again.

‘I said, get the fuck off the swing, you little fucker,' said Lyle. ‘What are you, deaf? Your little froggie ears not working?'

I kept staring straight ahead and pumped my legs as fast as I could. I could see the kid next to me glancing over to see what was going to happen. In a few seconds, I was quite high and I could see the top of Lyle's baseball cap. He was standing there with his face all ugly and his hands on his hips. If I stuck my foot out, I figured I could actually kick him in the head. I had to concentrate really hard to get that thought out of my mind. I don't like it when I have thoughts like that because I figure that only a few brain cells stand between thinking about something and actually doing it.

My mother told me a story once of how she hated her best friend's little dog. The dog would growl and nip at her heels and once it bit her hand. One day her friend and the little dog were
walking ahead of her on a log over a stream when my mother suddenly had the thought of kicking the little dog off the log. She said the next thing she knew, her foot went out and lifted the dog up and off the log and dropped him into the stream. I figure one or two of her brain cells went wonky. Even though I'd never do that to a dog, I'm afraid that brains cells going all wonky might be a genetic condition. I had to think really hard about keeping my foot away from Lyle's head.

Now that I think about it, that may not have been the best idea. I likely should have kicked Lyle in the head – as long I kicked him hard enough to make him go unconscious. I should have done that before he had a chance to do what he did to me. That's because without any warning – other than another ‘I said, get the fuck off the swing, you little fucker' – Lyle grabbed on to my swing which stopped me all of a sudden and made me fall backwards off onto the gravel and hit the back of my head on the ground. Then Lyle immediately jumped on the swing and started swinging, which meant that I had to roll out of the way really fast.

I jumped up quickly and walked toward the school. I could hear Lyle behind me saying, ‘Where are you going, you little froggie sookie baby? Do you need me to call a whaaambulance? Whaa, whaa, whaa.'

I was really, really mad, and the back of my head hurt. I walked over to the bench.

Lyle said, ‘You'd better not be going to tell on me or I'll be having your frog legs, you little fucker.'

I sat down on the bench and rubbed my head. If I was a capuchin monkey, I'd pee on my hands and feet because that's what the ones who have been picked on do to relieve stress. Thankfully I'm not a capuchin because peeing on my hands didn't sound like something that would relieve stress for me. Peeing on Lyle might, though.

I started to imagine all sorts of things that I would like to happen to Lyle – like an arrow going right through his hollow head or being eaten from the inside out by bot-fly larvae.