Ivyland (6 page)

GRADY /// IVYLAND, NEW JERSEY

I have ID from Harvey House, but police laugh and says the shit that comes out my mouth is classic. “Grady,” says a policeman name of Ed, “the shit that comes out your mouth is classic.” I ax him what's making drool and spit and upchuck classic. “See what I mean.” He laughs suchlike I see all tooths and a broken. He goes, “Take it easy, Grady,” and I says I don't take nothing but mine things. “You're all right,” he says, and walking to the MexiLickin'SurfHog. I knowed he likes the donuts there, so I says one day to get strawberry glaze, cause that's a best flavor, of donuts anyway. “Don't get donuts, I get those fancy Adderade drinks.” I say like a magic potion like some wizards? “Sort of.” I says I knowed they had some drinks like them and sometime I went inside but a man with a green smock like Harvey House arts and crafts stood near and looked bad till I leave and whatever cause I'm not loving this place. The real Harvey House art class guy brung paints and crayons and everything else. I painted two pictures and make a little clay pot suchlike my thumbs pushed out the bowl and plus to that a clay space shuttle like for the moon visit. Ed looks mad at me. “Bunch of bastards in there. You get your french fries somewhere else.” I says I don't like faster foods. He says: “Whudju want from MexiLickin'SurfHog then?” I says I was curious. The policeman laugh like his way. I ax always again if he knowed what scoundrel locked up my bicycle for when I'm leaving it by the train on accident. Police don't hear me sometimes or get busy so they forget what I axed and I have to ax them tomorrow, and months of tomorrow. Okie-doke. They got it hard enough without me being super curious. One police name of Vince never forgets. He believes the scoundrels locked up my bike. “Grady,” he says, “looks like they locked your bike up good, I admit.” Some police don't believe. They says, “I got to see ID,” so I show my ID from Harvey House. They laughs and forget and go to MexiLickin'SurfHog. Okie-doke. Job is no picnic. For one thing, no blanket. For another: no basket.

*

I had a basket for my bicycle, but from the look the scoundrels had removen it. I carry Dr. Hal Rockefeller in the basket. He loves to play and squirm when I ride. Sometime I ride to the park and we seen some kids play baseball. Don't care who win or lose, I have some fun, I don't mind to tell. Dr. Hal don't know butt ‘bout baseball, but never sad to lie in some sun. When games go empty we leave to Freddy's Baseball Memorabilia. I'm gonna sell Freddy my Mickey Mantle rookie card for bazillions of riches. Always say I can't wait to've brung my Mickey Mantle rookie card to sell. Freddy goes: “Well why dontcha then?” He likes to think I don't have a Mickey Mantle rookie. I do. Just gotta find it. When I do, boy—watch out! I'll buy a boss car with the riches. I brung Dr. Hal Rockefeller in there hundreds of times, but Freddy is always forgetting his face. “Can't have no weasel in here,” Freddy says. Okie-doke. Freddy goes, “Well get him out!” I says you says no
weasels
and he's a
ferret
but Freddy's too mad at me so always I try to go out on the sidewalk and put Dr. Hal Rockefeller in my jacket and come back in. Mostly Freddy can't see, but once when Dr. Hal was fooling Freddy says, “Something moving in your jacket?” I says it's prolly some Mexican jumping beans and you bet I runned my butt off to get out. Freddy says I'm Some ‘Spicious Character. What, I says, little old me? “Yeah-You,” says Freddy, “scaring kids away.” I says I hasn't seen kids in your store once ever. Freddy says, “That's cause Some ‘Spicious Characters scare them away!” and he's chasin me out with a mop. I even get band! “You're band for life!” Freddy says. First time Freddy made me band was on accident but now I can make it every time. Got band three times one week, honest. When Freddy's mad enough to put a band he gets red like cartoons and I wait for some steam coming out his ears.

*

I axed Ty at Harvey House why Freddy will be so mad. Ty keeps watching on the TV and says, “Tell you what. Buy some Nicaraguan vampire bats. Release them into Freddy's home, let them fly down through the chimney, and you can't get out because shit there's something blocking the door—I put big rocks there—and the guano is flying, and God there's a bat in your hair and it's like of course the bat's just as scared and trying to untangle but it's hopelessly caught and the leathery wings are smacking you in the face as it screeches pathetically, which just attracts more bats, and what the fuck, seems like these bats got their sonar screwy cause all they do is crash into you, and finally one forward-thinking bat gets the inspired idea to bite you in the jugular vein and hey: that's when you black out.” I can't do these fancy Ty things. Where can a man get some bats? I axed him an easier way. He says, “Shush, space shuttle news is on.” He's a weird one, but he's trying you know.

*

But like we say, this was the days. Dr. Hal Rockefeller and I, we don't now bicycle together cause of scoundrels that did lock my bicycle and also because Dr. Hal Rockefeller is lost yesterday. I was leaving him play outside on our walk, and what do you know—he's gone. I told Liz, a Harvey House helper lady. “That weasel of yours running around loose?” I says he's a
ferret
. She says, “He's dangerous?” I says ‘course not, Dr. Hal Rockefeller is a courteous ferret and with manners. She says, “She'll turn up.” I says it's a he not she.

*

I was showing people my only picture of Dr. Hal Rockefeller. Of the doctor in his bike basket and me steering. People say nothing or else “I haven't seen your rat” or suchlike unhelpful things. Dr. Hal Rockefeller most of times is coming home before long, but he was lost for a day now and I hadn't ever missed him so awful much as this. Could've looked for Dr. Hal on my bike if not for scoundrels! The police says last time I had no ID and never no bike. Police Ed goes, “Who would give you a bike? You'd just hurt yourself.” My bike is a gift to me by one Henri Acton, who has the absolute best music band (that's different from Freddy's bands from the card shop) all by himself, with zero backup, on the little piano. He says I'll enjoy it more and I'm his biggest fan, and that L president-hey of the Henri Acton fan society has important things that needs modes of transport. But now! I had to be on some searches for Dr. Hal with no bike no help, even though I axed Ty. Ty says, “This government is soft on crime.” Not as soft as Dr. Hal Rockefeller, you be sure, I says, but Ty is a meanly shout, “Quiet for
America Sings!
And P.S., the rat-finding expedition is a no-go.” On TV some guy, singing, and wow, was he somewhat loud. I says that guy would make good at a baseball game announcing.

*

By the tracks where I can be taking breaks from searches I watched some big wooshy trains. They were fun and neat. I seen trains lots and some littler with pretend towns suchlike Henri and I were playing at times ago, in Harvey House around the Christmas tree. It has littler pretend people to be waiting for the train and it's fun cause I'm like a giant at them, but a friendly giant. I was too close to a regular train and in a shiny woosh it blew away from my arms some drawings of Dr. Hal Rockefeller I wrote for passing out. Flying and I can't catch them from the air. There's a man with a hat who I catched at on accident. “Whaddayu think you're doing, throwing those all over the platform.” I says I was catching only and no throwing. “Don't let me see you at that again.” He gives his dumb hat some touches and is stepping on the train. I have only been once inside of a train, when I was a kid and having a nosebleed. Thing is some ways I'll do a nosebleed, but no biggy, just for a usual. Dad though was shouting cause I was eating of the blood to get it back in. “Stop!” which is a word I know is on red
octagons
, and he was crying at me, but my blood were like funny candy. Henri taught me octagons and others of crazy shapes. Nosebleeds nothing, Henri was like to say, Dad still loves me, it's his job.

*

There's a whole buncha people that I talked at for the Dr. Hal Rockefeller-finding expedition, the word I learned from Ty, and all standing like dinner line-up. They were getting at train tickets, obvious. My stomach was growls because some criminal had a delicious hot dog and my stomach was thinking bout Texas Wieners, a tip-top restaurant, only I can't ever remember where it is and when I try a map it just has lines of colors and it can't work. Criminal for sure. Ty says all niggers are interested with one thing: crime. “Nigger?” I was saying, to practice. “Nigger? Who? How do we spot the nigger,” I ax. “That,” Ty points at Ernie, a cleaning Harvey House guy. “O, a nigger is a cleaner guy!” “No!” Ty says, “with the
skin
.” “O,” I'm shouting more, “a nigger is a guy with cleaner
skin
!” “
No
! A nigger does not have clean skin … they have dirty skin. So dirty it's black.” “O,” I'm whispery, “am I a nigger?” “Idiot,” Ty grumbles like dogs, “a nigger has
really
dirty skin. You're just
kind
of dirty.” “O,” I says, “now you're understood. I'm just
kind
of nigger.” “Yes,” Ty says, “but full niggers are criminals, not like you.” We watched on TV an animals show where a baby walrus was rescued so he could grow big. Ty kept on saying “Just die,” at the baby walrus, but boy was I happy the walrus didn't. I wished it could've sat with me suchlike it was my baby. Then they make the walrus go back to his real wilderness home, and zoo people are having a cry?—hello, it's a
happy
ending! “Ty,” I axed, “a criminal. How do we spot a … criminal?” “Just look for a nigger,” Ty says.

*

I'm going at the line-up people and none want a chat, not even the criminal with his Texas Wiener. They just move up the line with toys in their ears and talking to the back of someone else's head. The train-ticket guy in the jail was frowning a lot and says, “You, come over here.” I was too afraid and looked around. “Yeah, pajama pants. Come here.” But here's what: everyone is wearing pants and can sleep in them, which means we're all wearing of pajama pants. The train ticket guy is just more frowning. “Get lost,” he goes. And there are moments too soon! Cause right there in a wall hole on the side of the jail is some tail. “There!” I shout to the line-up, and diving for Dr. Hal. The tail goes in the hole so I stick my arm all in too. The line-up people say stuff, but I don't hear so much cause I called at Dr. Hal Rockefeller to come, and was promising some cheese—his favorite kinds, which is monster. My fingers in dark can feel at rocks and a box with soft pills in it. I felt a moving. I grabbed it and found a tail to pull, which I was sorry to do cause you know it hurts, but when Dr. Hal comes out he's not looking like himself and his tail is naked and gross suchlike nothing else, not ever. He's dangly and bitey and I say: “Hey, you're not the doctor,” because for certain this thing is not. He's squirmy and try to bite again, and then some line-up people saw. A lady screamed, and others making big fusses for nothing. “Don't be worrisome,” I say, using a Henri word, “Only a rat, like
Ratopia
on Animal Channel,” and brung it closer to show how harmless, but these people are screams. The criminal holding a Texas Wiener has a surprise and dropping his Texas Wiener and that darn rat wiggled out my hand. He took a chunk from the Texas Wiener on the ground and runned out so fast, you have no ideas.

*

The train-ticket man came out of the jail and with a mad face. He says, “I told you, get lost,” and pushed me, and went to give the screamest lady some touches. I was crying but pretended I wasn't cause the line-up people were looking, and hey, a cry is for little kids. But it was too late to not have a cry and I wiped at my crying, and I go downstairs to sit by the ice cream place but not wanting some and crying still. Who walks out with some ice cream in a sugar cone, my favorite, but a police name of Bert. “Why you crying, Grady?” “A cry is for kids.” He's licky at his ice cream and says, “Why don't you hang with me, Grady, take a load off?” I yell, “I don't take what isn't mine!” and runned off, boy. Runned and runned. Runned in a tunnel under the train tracks and runned smack into some boy kids. One boy shouting: “Hey, watch where the fuck you're going!” I tell that swearing is for bad people, and he goes, “I am bad.” It was darkful with the tunnel but I can't leave. Another boy is saying, “It's that guy! I know who you are.” “Cause I'm famous?” “Yeah, a famous loser.” “Famous,” I says, “wow.” And then the boys are laughy, and I'm laughing but the laugh is making more crying come out. “What's wrong with you,” says the bad boy. Dr. Hal Rockefeller is gone. “Who is that, your boyfriend,” goes the bad boy, and the other boys are laughy again. No, I says, he's my
ferret
friend. “I have an idea,” says one boy, “we'll help you find it.” “What?” says another boy. “Are you retarded?” “Shh, dude, trust me.” “This is stupid.” “O Jesus,” goes some others. “Yes please!” I'm yelling, “you have to!” and the boys are almost scared. “I was needing help.” And I wanted to cry some more, but holding it in to be brave. And one boy, who is so gosh-darn familiar, looks at me and looks away.

*

The boys are walking into Harvey House with me to help with a sign, a sign with real words. Amy, a helper lady, says, “Oh you've got some new friends there, have you,” and smiles. I smile. I got a poster thing at the arts and crafts room that Ty always calls arts and farts, and I laugh for it. Ty goes, “You don't even know what a fart is, do you.” I says no. He tells, “A fart is when white stuff comes out your weiner.” I was so laughy at this, maybe most ever. Ty is looking bad and says, “That noise. What is that stupid noise you make?” The boys draw words I told for the poster, about Dr. Hal Rockefeller and his personality, his favorites of cheese. I tell his color and softness, and the boys were making the fanciest words. “It's done?” I keep asking. “Almost.” In a bazillion years it was ready, so long and fancy! “It's the best,” I say, and the boys was smiling, but one boy not, and he's looking same—this boy is like Leo. He says, “Grady, don't use this sign.” Other boys say, “Shh.” I say: “It's perfect.” The boy says again, “Don't use it,” and catched at it to rip! I say “No! Please don't! Please.” And before you knew I was crying again at the Leo kinda boy but more cause I was needing the sign so much. “See,” says the bad boy, “he likes his sign, it'll work great.” He takes it from the Leo boy and give it at me. “Grady,” he says, “I have a feeling this sign will make you very happy.” And the little Leo putting his chin on his chest.