Runt (9 page)

Stewart's mother and father used their bodies and arms to keep people at a distance from Jolie as she watched. The air was thick and humid inside the monkey house. Jolie had her inhaler, but they had to be careful how long they stayed inside.

As Stewart watched, one of the otters had had enough, and with his sharp claws yanked the monkey into the water. Though it took a while for the group of people to realize what had happened, the other monkeys knew immediately. As the monkey in the water thrashed about, fighting for its life, the ones in the trees screamed. Then those on the other side of the glass began wailing as well.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” Jolie said.

“What?” Her mother bent closer.

“The monkey is drowning. Someone has to do something. Somebody do something.”

“Call someone. Someone call someone. Someone do something.”

But everyone was frozen. You weren't allowed to jump over the glass, into the water. Everyone knew how dangerous that was. Not to mention forbidden. And besides, what could they do? Otters were fierce. They lived on fish and shellfish, which they were expert at opening with their sharp claws and teeth.

One man tried whistling very loudly as if the sound would end the attack, but of course, it didn't. The monkeys leaped higher into the branches, safe but agitated, their shrieking indistinguishable from the humans'. By the time zoo personnel arrived to pull the dead monkey from the water, Stewart's mother and father had pushed their way past the crowd and out the doors.

“Excuse me. Excuse me. Wheelchair. Wheelchair coming through.”

They hadn't been back to the zoo since.

• • •

Stewart didn't stumble onto the video until two years later, when he was working on a sixth-grade science report about evolution. He saw the footage when he was googling primates on the internet and there it was.
Someone had caught the whole thing on their cell phone and uploaded it to YouTube.

Monkey Dies at Bronx Zoo

People had posted all sorts of comments from,
The monkeys were bullies, they deserved it
to
What kind of horrible people post a video like this? They should be the ones to
drown.

“How's the work going?” Stewart's father poked his head in the door.

“Fine,” Stewart answered. He didn't turn around. His face was still a bit swollen. He had two black eyes but the doctor said it was better to wait until he was older to do anything in terms of plastic surgery.

“Look, Stu,” his father said. “It's no big deal. You'll get 'em next time.”

My mother dropped me off
in the back of the church and it was a long walk around the block to the front. It was easier to get back there since the main street was one way. It was starting to rain pretty hard.

“Take my umbrella,” my mother said.

“No, I'm late, Mom.” I stepped out.

“We'll probably need to bring some wood in when you get back,” she said as I was shutting the car door. “You sure you can get a ride home?”

My dress shoes were already turning from white to gray.

I nodded yes, but I wasn't sure at all. I hadn't asked anyone from class for a ride home, but I didn't want to
miss the wedding. Miss Robinson was mad enough at me, even if she didn't act like it. I had to show up and show her how much I liked her, but I was worried about getting home. I mean, who else would come out in this weather if they didn't have to?

The front rows on both sides of the aisle were all filled up. I should have taken the umbrella. My hair was plastered to my head.

I was hoping to sit with someone from school who lived near me, but there were so few kids there at all. Maggie was there and I saw that she was alone with plenty of room on either side of her. Luckily I saw Freida Goldstein, and I knew Freida lived closer to me, anyway. Maggie lived on the whole other side of town.

If Freida catches my eyes I can sit with her. If she catches my eye I can say hello and then maybe sit down.
And then she called out to me first. “Wanna sit here?”

“Sure.” I sat down on the hard wooden pew.

“Not many kids from class showed up,” Freida said.

“Hey, do you think you can give me a ride home after the ceremony?” I just blurted it out.

Freida laughed, but not a mean laugh.

“We just got here. It hasn't even started yet.”

“I know. I just . . . it's just that I don't . . .”

“Sure,” Freida jumped in. “My mom loves to drive kids home, but she'll talk and talk and ask you tons of personal questions. Are you all right with that?”

Now I laughed. “Sure.”

“I love a wedding. Do you watch that show on TV?” Freida lowered her voice. “
Say Yes to the Dress?
”

The minister guy had started talking. I whispered back. “Yeah, I watch it all the time.”

The music started and the wedding party made their way toward the altar. The service went on for a long time, a lot about commitment and honor and the future. Miss Robinson and her husband stayed kneeling so nobody could really see anything but the minister. Or was he a priest?

“I really liked your poem,” Freida said, leaning in closer.

I could feel my face turn red. “I don't know why I said that. I mean, said that out loud. About my poem and everything.” Just remembering what I said made my stomach twist.

“It's okay,” Freida whispered. “It really was the best one. By far.”

I took a big breath. “My mother didn't even see it. I don't know why I said that.”

“It's okay. Don't worry about it.”

So Freida knew the truth now, and somehow it made me feel better just to get that off my chest. But it was too late to get Miss Robinson to like me again. Mrs. Robinson will probably like me even less.

“Thanks,” I said.

“You're welcome.”

Miss Robinson was standing and Mr. Robinson was putting a ring on her finger, but the sound of the rain made it impossible to hear what was going on up there.

And then the storm arrived.
November was so late in the year for a hurricane—a superstorm, they were calling it. Cold air from Canada and a tropical storm racing up the coast from the south. Still, Miss Robinson was kneeling at the altar with her soon-to-be-husband right beside her.

Maggie looked around the church. The front rows were all filled up with family and friends of the bride and groom. The few kids from class who had shown up were here in the back pews. Rain pelted the stained glass. Maggie slouched down against the hard wooden seat.

Zoe had promised she was coming and then texted at the last minute.

My mom says its nuts to go out in this weather. Sorry.

And if that wasn't bad enough, Larissa hadn't even bothered to say she wasn't coming. When the organ music began and the wedding procession started down the aisle and Maggie was still sitting alone, she gave up waiting.

Miss Robinson looked beautiful, Maggie had to say. Her dark hair against her pale skin, her dress was so white and so perfect. She didn't look fat at all. She looked like a princess and boy, was she smiling. But it was the way the groom looked at her that really made Maggie choke up. It was like there was no one else in the room as Miss Robinson walked toward him. They even had a flower girl. Maggie turned around to watch the little girl throw petals, and that's when she saw Freida.

Freida's overprotective helicopter mom drove her daughter in this weather? Oh, well, she did. And now Freida was there, sitting with Elizabeth Moon?

It was a full five seconds of staring back before Maggie realized everyone was sitting straight and looking forward again toward the altar and the father, who had begun talking. During the service, Maggie tried to covertly turn her head back to Freida and Elizabeth. They were sitting
close and talking, smiling. They looked happy. The wind was picking up and branches were scraping against the building. But Freida and Elizabeth didn't seem to mind.

Freidabeth? Elizada? No, those both sounded stupid. Freida was stupid. This whole wedding was stupid. And Elizabeth was the dog girl, braggy girl, Miss I'm-smarter-than-everyone girl. Smelly-Girl.

Smelly-Girl. What a perfect name for an indie band.

The father paused a minute when the lights flickered, and everyone held their breath but nothing happened. With the wind and the rain, Maggie couldn't hear a word he was saying anyway.

Smelly girl. A good line in a rap battle.

Or a phony deodorant.

Or a nasty person2person page.

A person2person page. So much better than a Burn Book.
Burn Books are for the dark ages. This is the brave new world of technology.

Smelly-Girl.

• • •

It was harder than she thought and it took a lot more time. Filling in all the details, status, life events, location. Yanking photos off the Internet. But at least she had the
real picture that Ethan had e-mailed her so no one would mistake who Smelly-Girl really was.

Angelica had gone home early after her husband called to say a huge tree was down and blocking her normal route. Maggie's mother was downstairs trying to cook. The TV news weather forecasters were behaving like actors with their first big movie break. And Maggie worked diligently and with such focus, she hardly heard the rain, she could hardly remember why she had begun this project in the first place.

Friends was the hardest. Making up enough other false person2person people so that the Smelly-Girl page looked legit and funny. She found photos of dogs and other things that smelled and linked their pages until Smelly-Girl had twelve friends.

“I'll be down in a minute,” Maggie called to her mom.

“Better hurry. I made lasagna and it's hot.”

Likes.

Maggie found funny person2person pages for Smelly-Girl to “like.” Stinky Fish Grill. StinkyFeet Band. Stinky Water bath products.

Her mother called up the stairs again, the lights flickered, and Maggie pressed
POST
.

Sometime in the middle of dinner, Maggie changed her mind. It was all over the news all the time, wasn't it? Cyber-bullying. Internet predators. They always got caught. No one understood and they looked like the bad guy.

“I sure hope we don't lose power,” Maggie's mother said.

Maggie stood up from the table and the lights flickered again. “I gotta run upstairs and do something.”

“Maggie, sit down,” Maggie's mother said. “How often do you have a homemade meal? Relax. Have you thought about what you are wearing to your first dance?”

Dance? No, Maggie hadn't thought about that at all. She took the stairs two at a time. She flipped open her laptop and watched her screen come up. She frantically opened to person2person just as the power went out. Electricity. Water. Cable. Modem. Internet.

All over town. All over the state. For a full ten and a half days.

Just because the Israelites took
forty years to cross the desert doesn't mean I can live without the Internet for one second longer and, frankly, I have no idea what my dad is talking about anyway.

So what's the worst part?

The water.

Or lack of it, rather.

We haven't been able to flush a toilet without using our water containers that we have to fill up every day and lug into the house. I have to brush my teeth by pouring water from a cup over my toothbrush. My mom gave up trying to cook with water from the bottles and now we just get takeout for dinner and she set up one of those
Dunkin' Donuts coffee dispensers right on the counter next to all the dirty dishes we can't wash. But seriously, the toilet situation is the worst.

And no heat.

No TV.

No Internet.

Did I mention the toilets?

And for some reason that only God or Verizon would be able to explain, no cell service. No talking. No texting. No tweeting.

No toilets.

“I'm cold,” my sister says for the ten millionth time in the last hour.

“We all are, Nadine,” my mom answers. “Put on a second pair of pants.”

But I know she won't, because it will make her look fat even when it's just us who can see her. I, on the other hand, am wearing pajama bottoms, fleece sweatpants, two pairs of socks, a thermal undershirt, a long sleeve T-shirt, a polar fleece jacket, and my dad's ski vest. Oh, and a hat.

School has been closed for four days. We take our showers at the Y.

We do have a small gas heater so we, all four of us, sleep on air mattresses in the den. My mom has—count them—six carbon monoxide detectors set up around the room.

“Daddy snores,” Nadine says. She's tucked in her sleeping bag like a knish. I can smell her aloe nighttime facial cream from here.