The Mighty Quinn (20 page)

“But doesn't being different mean having different ideas?” Quinn thought of something his mother had
said, and for the first time in his life he felt sorry for Matt. “If you say that there's a god but it's only in one place and not another, that's like saying it's locked in a special box ...”

“Or in a book,” Neally added.

“That only some people can open,” Quinn finished.

“No, you're wrong, both of you!” Matt's voice shook. “You're so wrong. He
is
in everything, but not everyone—I mean, you gotta look in the right everything.”

“Everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” Neally turned around, toward the sound of Lily's melodic voice. “Then I could look on the field?”

Lily smiled bashfully, her hand fluttering around the neck of her bright red, orange, and yellow striped dress. “There is a song we would sing.” She kicked at a pebble, pointed to the ground, then to the schoolyard and up to the clouds. “It for was this.” She circled her arm over her head. “All of this.”

“But there's more!” Matt slapped his fist against his leg and shifted from side to side. “It's not just pretty nature stuff and—you can't just say it's ... argh!” He stomped his foot as the end-of-recess buzzer rang out.

Saved by the bell
, Quinn gloated.

Neally grinned and said, “Somebody sing ‘Amen.'”

“Shouldn't we wait for Sam?” Neally glanced back toward the school.

“His sister's picking him up. He's got a piano recital, then Scouts. C'mon.” Quinn quickened his pace, his sneakers slapping the sidewalk. “Matt's gonna hate me for infinity.”

“I don't think Matt is allowed to believe in infinity.”

“Ha ha. Really, this is serious, Neally. If Matt gets in trouble with his dad, he'll make my life miserable.”

“I thought he already did that.”

“Fine, even more miserable. Mega, giga-miserable.”

“Don't worry.” Neally picked up a stick and ran it across a fence they walked past. She spoke in time with the stick's
tap-tap
against the fence posts. “You-will-rise-to-the-oc-ca-sion.”

“Yeah, right.” Quinn tried to snatch the stick from Neally, who laughed and tossed it over the fence.

“Besides, in the next couple of years if Matt doesn't
grow any taller or nicer, some meaner and bigger boy will kick his butt in middle school. It's called the law of proportionality. Something my dad told me.”

A slow smile warmed Quinn's face. “That is a most excellent law.”

“Can you stop at my house? You have to see this: Yin and Yang got a hold of some newspapers from our recycling bin. They built a nest in the living room and they sit in it, like a pair of hawks. My mother says they're having an identity crisis.”

“Sure—ah, foof, I can't. I told Mickey I'd help her with her mouse.”

“You got a new pet and didn't tell me?”

“It's not a pet, it's dead. Mickey found it, and she wants to give it a funeral.”

“That's considerate of her. But you could still stop and see the nest. Oh, I almost forgot!” Neally flapped her arms in excitement. “My dad wants to ask you if ...”

“Quinny Quinny Quinny, Neally Neally Neally!”

Neally whirled around and looked at the small figure that was rapidly catching up with them. “Who is
that
?”

“Guess I forgot to tell you about Mickey's new haircut.”

“I believe the proper term is clear cut,” Neally said dryly. “Haircuts usually leave some hair on the head.”

Mickey doubled over when she reached Quinn and Neally. She put her hands on her knees and took deep, exaggerated breaths.

“Hey, Mickey, what's with your new do?”

Mickey beamed at Neally. “I got it yesterday. Mom took me to the snippin' shop after dinner.” Mickey lowered her head. “Go on, pet it. I know you want to.”

Neally ran her fingers over the short stubble. What was left of Mickey's hair was both soft and bristly, and streaked with red, blue, green, and gold hair paint. “Mickey, this is unbelievably cool! You look like a tropical macaw.”

“Thanks. But the teacher called my mom after recess and told her I can't use hair paint anymore. It's too distincting to the rest of the class.”

“You mean,
distracting
,” Quinn said.

“That too,” Mickey said. “It'll be great for swimming. And I can run even faster, without all that hair to catch up in gravity.”

“Let's get going,” Neally said. “Quinn said he's going to help with your mouse funeral.”

“He's brother of the year! But I've changed my mind. No funeral.” Mickey spun in a circle, holding tight to the straps of her book pack. “Do you ever wonder, how does the world work?” She staggered, struggling to get her balance. “How does the world spin without air?”

“I don't know what you mean,” Quinn said. “Try asking it a different way.”

“I don't think so,” Mickey said. “That could get confusing.”

“Hey, parrot-head.” Neally placed her hand on
Mickey's shoulder. “Would you like to see my cats' idea of a bird's nest?”

“Yes and yes again!” Mickey hugged Neally. She pulled away from the hug and pointed behind Neally. “Could Tay come too?”

“Why are they walking this way?” Neally griped. “Matt lives on the other side of school.”

“There's a Scout meeting at Tay's house,” Quinn whispered as the boys approached.

“Hey, cancer
cabeza
!” Tay ran his hand over Mickey's colorful head. “Lookin' cool.”

Mickey had always liked Tay and was obviously pleased with his attention. She giggled and batted at Tay's hand. Quinn winced, then told himself that Tay wasn't teasing her in a mean way, even if the cancer remark was strange.

“Cancer
cabeza
?” Neally said suspiciously.

“
Cabeza
means head in Spanish,” Tay said.

“Ask Arturo, if you don't believe him,” Matt added.

“Mickey kinda looks like my Aunt Jenny,” Tay continued. “She got cancer, and her medicine made her hair fall out, so one day she just shaved her head.”

“My, what a pleasant association.” Neally used her puffed-up, Queen of England voice.

“I bet you'll cut a few seconds off your swim time,” Tay said to Mickey.

“Or you could just wear a boy's swimsuit,” Matt said.

“No, I can't,” Mickey objected. “I'm a girl.”

“A girl parrot,” Quinn said solemnly.

“Oh, so you're a girl?” Matt persisted. “Then how come you cut your hair like a boy?”

“I'm not wearing hair like a boy. I'm a girl, so it's a girl haircut.”

“Girls' hair is supposed to be long. Guys have short hair.”

“Hair is hair, Matt,” Neally said. “If you let it grow, it gets long, whether you're a boy or a girl. If you cut it short, then it's short.”

“There's this picture of my dad in college with a ponytail—whoa!” Tay hooted. “Now he doesn't even have enough hair on his head to ...”

Matt glowered at Tay.

“Not this again,” Quinn groaned.

“I smell a sermon coming.” Neally wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms over her chest. “Let me guess, Matt: they preach about hair in your church? That must be
so
interesting.”

“That's not the point. Mickey's trying to be something she's not. Boys need to be boys and girls should have to be girls. Maybe you don't like it, but it's God's law. What makes you a good person is being what you're supposed to be. But then,” Matt added haughtily, “I don't expect people like
you
would understand.”

“Mickey is a good person,” Quinn said calmly.

“Why are you even bothering?” Neally spoke to Quinn as if they were alone. “It's like talking back to an answering machine. It's mechanical; it can't understand what you're saying.”

“We got a new answering machine,” Mickey said. “The message voice sounds like an old man with flappy gums.”

“Nobody said Mickey's not a good person.” Tay lightly cuffed Mickey's ear. “Let's get going,” he pleaded to Matt.

Matt ignored Tay. “To be a
truly
good person, you can't think you can know things on your own. That's like making it up. You'd understand if you went to the right church.”

“So, if I want to be a good person I'll go to your church? And if I want to be an elephant,” Neally snorted, “I'll go to the zoo.”

“I'd
love
to be an elephant.” Mickey's eyes widened. “You could suck up water with your nose and squirt people with your elephant booger water!”

“Like any of you could even understand.” Matt sneered. “Tay, we gotta go. The Scout meeting needs to start on time, 'cause I have to leave on time. We're packing for the trip tonight.”

“Are you going on a Scout campout?” Mickey asked Tay. “Do sisters ever get to go along?”

“There's no Scout trip.” Tay looked perplexed.

“It's just me, my family.” Matt puffed out his chest.
“Our family goes on a retreat. We do it every year, and I get to miss a day of school for it.”

“Oh,
that
trip,” Tay said.

“Is that what your dad was talking about with Ms. Blakeman?” Neally asked. “He brought her a note this morning, before the field trip,” she explained to Quinn.

“It wasn't a note, it was an advance excused absence form,” Matt said proudly. “You can only get those from the principal's office. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, I get out of school tomorrow.”

“Why do you have to leave Scouts early?” Tay asked. “We're gonna make popcorn balls after the meeting. Besides, it's not like there's a lot to pack.” Tay looked at Neally and Quinn. “They just stay in a motel for a weekend and read religious stuff.”

“We do other things too,” Matt insisted. “We can stay up as late as we want and play games. I hold the family record for most Go Fish games won in a row. Last year I almost beat my dad at Battleship. No one beats my dad at anything.”

“And no one else can come along, and they can't go outside or listen to music or watch any shows.
Man
.” Tay frowned and shook his head. “Cooped up with your family, and no TV.”

Tay chortled and ducked as Matt faked a punch at his nose.

“No wonder it's called a retreat—it sounds like something to run away from,” Neally said.

Matt turned his back to Neally and squatted until his face was even with Mickey's. “I don't expect these heathens to understand.” He stood up and looked at Quinn and Neally as if they were something mushy stuck between his soccer cleats. “But there's still hope for you, Mickey.”

Tay took a small step away from Matt and toward Mickey. “There's nothing wrong with Mickey.” Tay's voice was barely above a whisper.

“Hey, when I get back, I'll get my dad to take us miniature golfing,” Matt said to Tay. “Three full rounds, and pizza afterward. Dad's always in a good mood after the retreat.”

“Miniature golf?” Tay's face lit up. “Dude! Maybe it could be a trip for the whole Scout troop. I wonder if you can earn a service badge for golfing?”

“
I
like miniature golfing,” Mickey said wistfully.

Neally's lip curled as she watched Tay and Matt set off down the sidewalk, toward Tay's house. “I wish I was in a 747,” she said.

Quinn threw his hands up in the air. “A 747?”

“Uh huh.” Neally's voice was dry as sawdust. “One of those airplane barf bags would come in handy right now.”