Bluefish (10 page)

Travis shivered. The breeze had gone cold, and the

sky stacked layers of steely gray. He followed Velveeta.

She glanced back as she crossed the street, spotted him, and grinned.

"Did you bring the book?" she asked when he caught up.

He nodded and fell into step alongside of her.

As they came up to the library, Travis asked, "How'd you get a job here?"

"It's not an official job. I just put away books and run errands and do what Connie says, and she slips me a cash payment. I think she embezzles it out of the overdue fines.

Very stealth and illegal, I'm sure."

"Do you like it?"

"It's better than being punched in the head twelve times."

She held the door open for Travis. The place was crowded and squat, with low ceilings, and slam- crammed full of books, like McQueen's office to the fifteenth power.

Velveeta grabbed the shoulder of his sweatshirt and led him zigging around some shorter shelves toward the back corner. He almost tripped over a toddler on the floor.

"Velveeta!" A tiny lady with spiked white hair and an eyebrow ring came out of the back office. "What are you doing here? It's not Saturday. Wait, I bet I know.

You want a nice book, don't you? Here, I'll get you one."

Velveeta turned to Travis and said, "She's a book pusher. Cops have busted her twelve times, but she always gets out on a plea."

"Who's this?"

"Connie, this is Travis," said Velveeta. "We're going to study. Can we use the study room, or is somebody in there?"

"All yours," said Connie.

Velveeta dragged Travis into a tiny room and shut the door. He pulled the fox book out of his backpack, realizing suddenly that she would see all those circled words.

Baby words. Words everyone knew.

"You know, in The Book Thief, Liesel barely even knew the alphabet," said Velveeta. "She had to start from the beginning. But she did it. She worked at it super hard.

She's amazing. Come on, let me see the book."

She held her hand out across the table and wiggled her fingers, asking for it.

Travis met her eyes. Brown and quiet, not snicking or rolling, not laughing. She waggled her fingers again, and he handed the book over.

"These are the words you're working on?" She pulled out the scraps of paper he'd stuck in the book.

Travis nodded. She turned the papers so they faced Travis and said, "Let's hear them."

He read both lists and he didn't miss one word.

Velveeta swept the papers off the table.

"Okay, you need a real challenge."

She pulled a notebook out of her backpack and started copying words from the fox book.

"Whoa. I can't learn all those."

"Yes, you can. You're on the Velveeta train now, and we're leaving the station.

This word is unwise - here, say it."

She jabbed her pen point at the first word on the list.

"Unwise." Travis tried to plant it in his head.

Velveeta held up her fist. Travis looked at it, then at her face, then back at her fist.

"Do something to it! Tap it or bang it or do some hand- jive thingy already so we can get back to work."

Travis sledgehammered her fist so hard it dipped to the table and bounced back up.

"Finally, some teamwork here. Now, this long word, here, this says desperately, as in, Travis wanted desperately to declare his true love for Velveeta. Say it."

"Desperately," said Travis. "That's an awfully big word."

"Stop whining. You have to learn ten words before you can leave. Here, this one says murky, as in, Ms. Gordon's class is a murky Mesozoic swamp where papier-mâché spiders rule. Say it - murky."

"Murky." Travis cracked a smile. "I bet you can't come up with something for every word."

"Oh, yeah? Watch me!"

Velveeta rattled off strings of crazy sentences for every word on the list. By the end, Travis mostly knew them. Velveeta drilled him back through to make sure.

"Isn't this boring for you?" Travis put the book in his backpack, and picked up McQueen's lists from the floor.

"Boring? Are you kidding? This is fun, a- barrel- offunky-monkeys fun. I'd love to see you wow McQueen on Monday. Can I come and watch?"

"No."

"Okay, fine, I'll just plant a camera and a mic." Velveeta stepped into the main library room. "You make me miss all the good stuff . By Monday, you'll be stealing books."

"Who's stealing my books?" asked Connie, coming up behind them.

"I didn't," said Travis.

"Get a library card, and you won't have to steal," called Connie as they pushed out the door.

Travis kept Velveeta's piece of paper out as he walked home, going over and over the words so he wouldn't forget. All together, that made twenty- one words. All his.

on a Fine FRIDAY

It's so amazing and fantabulous. Travis learned all those words today, and I helped him. That made me want to explode and happy- dance with how good it felt, pouring those words into his brain and watching them stick. He's not dumb as a post - he's super- smart. Smarter than Liesel the book thief, maybe.

He's going to be whipping through that fox book in no time.

Plus, here's something funny that happened in school.

In reading, I was watching Travis working on his book, and then I looked over at McQueen, and he looked back, zippo-zappo, right in theeyeballs, and I looked down at The Book

Thief on my desk and up at him, and he almost smiled, but not quite. Just enough to let me know that he knew that I knew that he knew that . . . He's smooth, that McQueen.

Travis headed out Saturday around noon. He had Haunt Fox in his backpack and baloney in his pocket. Out of the house before Grandpa got home from work.

The day before, walking home on a cloud of word happiness, he'd actually hoped Grandpa would ask if he'd learned anything at school that day.

He wanted to say YES and mean it. But Grandpa walked in the door, tossed Travis a doughnut, and spent the evening sucking down O'Doul's and watching TV. Didn't ask anything. He didn't go to his AA meeting. Hadn't gone all week in fact, or said one word to Travis since poking him Thursday night.

Looked like he was back to not liking chatterboxes.

The day was gray and sullen, the sun hidden. Moisture hung thick on the air, and Travis found it hard to get a full deep breath. When he got close to the dog's house, he high- low whistled. The dog came roaring down the driveway.

"Hang on, hang on." Travis pulled the plastic bag out of his pocket. The dog quit barking as soon as Travis opened the bag. He could smell that baloney and didn't want to scare it away.

Travis tossed him a piece, and he caught it on the float - chomp sloop - and it was gone. Travis tossed him the other one. Slurp, gone. His long pink tongue swooshed across his teeth, splashing slobber. Travis turned the empty bag inside out and held it at arm's length. The dog dainty- stepped closer and carefully nosed it, licked it, and waved the tip of his tail. He was a nice- looking dog when he wasn't all hair- up lipsnarled.

Black with a white chest like a clean shirtfront. Pointed stand- up ears and a sharp nose, and a long narrow tail with a white tip on the end.

"When you're not doing that snarly thing, you look pretty good," said Travis.

"But you've still got some drool dripping there."

The dog cocked his head and geared his tail up to a full wag.

"You wouldn't want to go for a walk with me, would you?"

Travis turned to walk away, patting his thigh as he went.

"C'mon, boy. C'mon."

He trotted a little, clapping his hands.

"C'mon."

The dog watched Travis like he was a cartoon on TV.

Travis squatted, whistled, and held out his hands.

"Just for a little bit? Just up to the next corner?

C'mere, boy."

Travis patted the ground in front of him. The dog looked at the spot with all attention, as if he wanted to understand what the problem was.

"No go, huh? You've got your home and your people -you don't need a walk with me."

A huge rock hulked at the bottom of the driveway, on the other side of the ditch. Taller than Travis, wider than his spread arms.

"What if I just sat there behind your rock for a while and looked over my words? Would you mind?"

The dog stood in place, allowing Travis to approach.

He found a flat spot where he could use the rock for a backrest and be completely hidden from the road. The dog didn't growl or bark, but he watched Travis's every move.

"Want to come over here?" asked Travis. "Sit by me?

I'll read words to you."

It came out so easy, talking to the dog. Rosco never minded chatter boxing.

He'd gaze up at Travis and tick his skinny tail back and forth, waiting for more.

Travis took out his lists and said the words out loud.

He mixed up the order and practiced again. Up and down the lists. The dog edged closer and lay down, nose on his paws, about ten feet away. Listening.

"Not gonna rip my face off if I get one wrong, are you?

Oh, wait, you started to wag again - I saw it."

Travis started from the top again. Suddenly, the dog jumped to his feet, ears pricked and tail wagging.

"Larry!" The voice was creaky, like it didn't get used much. "Larry, where are you?"

The dog dashed up the drive. Travis sat perfectly still.

If the person came down the drive and looked right, he'd be caught. He was partially hidden by high grass, but not completely. He closed thebook and scooted back, trying to ease out of sight, but before he could get all the way around the rock, Larry appeared. Travis froze.

An old woman with a cane walked behind Larry. She moved slowly, her eyes on the ground.

"Where were you?" she asked. "Chasing a squirrel?

Barking at the mail?"

She moved beyond Travis's view, on the other side of the rock. The mailbox opened and closed.

"Nothing but bills. Come on, let's get in before it starts raining."

She came back into view and looked up, searching the sky from one horizon to the other. Travis held his breath.

She'd see him any minute, and what would he say? "I wanted to sit by your rock"? "I like your dog"?

She pulled herself up the slope on her cane, Larry at her side. A raindrop fell on Travis's hand, and another on his cheek. A few more spattered on the book.

As soon as the woman and Larry wereout of sight, he put the book in his backpack and crawled to the other side of the rock.

No cars were coming from either direction, so he walked out to the road.

The rain came down in fat, warm drops. He went the long way around into town and stopped at the library, hoping Velveeta might still be there. By the time he got to the door, the rain had turned cold.

"Did you come to get a library card?" Connie asked when he stuck his dripping head in the door.

"No, just looking for Velveeta."

"She left already. Do you want to come in and dry off ?

Maybe find a nice book or two?"

"No, thanks." He backed out and put his jacket over his backpack so Haunt Fox wouldn't get wet.

Cold trickles ran down the back of his neck. As he passed the convenience store, Bradley came out the door carrying a gallon of milk.

"Hey, Travis, why are you walking around in the rain?

I got sent out for milk because my parents don't care if I catch pneumonia."

"No reason."

They walked through town together.

"I thought that went pretty well at lunch Friday," said Bradley. "That was funny, the Velveeta Fan Club. You're still not going out with her, right? Still just friends?"

"Why do you care so much?"

"Because I was thinking about asking her to the dance, but I wouldn't if you were going to. I mean, you got there first."

Travis didn't know anything about any dance.

"I've been thinking about it since the posters went up last week and it can't hurt to ask, right? I know she'll say no, but so what? I figure even asking will be interesting, because who knows what she'll say? I'm getting better at sword fighting with her, don't you think?"

They got to Water Street and Bradley stopped.

"So you don't mind, right? If I ask her?"

Travis stood there with his hands jammed in his pockets, shivering. Bradley had on a nice rain jacket with the hood pulled up, and hiking boots.

Travis's socks were soggy.

"I didn't think you would, but I just wanted to make sure, because you and I are getting to be friends, too, right?"

Just then, Travis didn't feel very friendly. He wished Bradley would go away and stay there.

"Okay, then, see you later, Trav."

Bradley turned down Water. Travis's feet squished in his shoes as he walked up the hill toward home.

on a Soggy, Sucky SUNDAY

Yesterday when I got home from work, the butt's truck was in the drive. I would have gone straight to your trailer, only it was pouring rain and I was soaked all the way to my under-wear, and - stupid me - I haven't been keeping clothes at your trailer, but from now on I'm going to, for sure.

So I opened the door and there he was, drunko skunko, sitting on the floor with his head in the lap of the madre, bawling. The madre looked up at me like I was, I don't know, a stranger. Like I was interrupting.

Meanfaced, like she hated me.

So, wet or not, I came over here and double- bolted. And stayed here overnight, wrapped up in a towel and a blanket.

Nobody even bothered to see if I'm okay. I could have been out in the rain, catching my death of icy- rain cold.

The madre is so many different people. Am I going to get the face- slapping mean madre or the fun card- playing madre or the crying- in- her beer madre?

I never know. Sometimes it makes my head want to spin off . And why doesn't she just kick Jimmy's lazy no- good butt away from here for good?

I wonder what Travis is doing today. I wonder what it's like at his house. I wonder if he learned any new words.

Maybe he has really nice parents and I could move in there.

They could hide me in the basement and feed me on leftover bread crusts. Only they don't have a basement.