Water Balloon (9 page)

"Well, couldn't you get it?"

"This is the economic reality of a two-household family, Marley."

"What?"
In English, por favor.

"We have to be careful with money. Your mother and I have the same income as we had before, but we're paying for two separate households now."

And whose brilliant idea was that, anyway?

"This whole thing just sucks," I say.

"It affects us all, Marley. Not just you."

I carry his stupid boxes out to the curb with the rest of the trash.

I celebrate the Fourth of July by sleeping until the afternoon. Dad must have put Rig out early, because nothing wakes me until Dad opens my door and says, "If you keep sleeping, you'll miss the whole summer. It will be the first day of school."

I remember right away. Today is the day. Today is my day. Hey, world, all hail the soon-to-be Water Balloon Blitz all-timec hamp.

I take a fast shower, get dressed, and try to think about how to kill the time until I'm supposed to go to Jane's. I call my mom. Amazingly, she actually answers her cell. But she starts rambling about reuniting with Yumi and Poodie and all these people (or, judging from the names, stuffed animals) I've never heard of. When she's finally done, she says, "So whose house this year for the Fourth?" I'm about to share my ingenious blitz plan when another call beeps in that Mom has to take.

I hang up and find Dad sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper and a big cup of coffee.

It's tricky business when you don't feel like talking to someone, but he's the only other one in the house. The guy who ruined my summer is my only housemate.

"Morning," I say.

"Afternoon," he says.

"Thanks for letting me sleep."

"You are gifted at sleep, Marley. You always have been."

"I have many special talents," I say.

"What do you have planned for today?"

"Oh, I'm just going to Jane's. You know, same old Fourth of July stuff. Some friends from their class are coming, too, I think." I don't mention that Jane's locking her parents inside the house or whatever. They'll be nearby, and that's enough. Dad doesn't need to know everything.

"That curtain class?" Turns out Dad really doesn't know anything. Does he picture Leah and Jane, maybe wearing bonnets, bent over old sewing machines?

"Curtain Call, yeah. What are you doing?"

"I may go fishing," Dad says, "unless you want me to wait for the weekend, so we can go together."

"No, you should go today," I blurt, a little too fast. Then, to distract him, I ask, "Can you take me to Jane's?"

"What time?"

I look at the big coffee cup clock. "Around four."

"Okay. Or you could ride your bike there and I'll pick you up later."

"Yeah, okay." I say. It's a long ride, but I guess it'll help pass the hours.

Summer's supposed to be about all this delicious, lazy time, and I can't help noticing that I'm either waiting for it to pass so I can do something good, or I'm counting off the minutes until the worst part of my day—the twin part—is over. No. I'm not thinking twins now. No way.

I need to go online, check my e-mail and stuff. I should go to the library, but no, it's closed on the Fourth. Maybe I can do it at Jane's tonight.

"Come on, Rig," I say. I take my book and bring him into the backyard. I like the backyard. That definitely has something to do with its proximity to someone else's yard, but even if there were no Jack, I think I'd like it back here. I take a deep delight in the fact that my father has a totally weedy lawn. It makes me think anything is possible.

I'm just sitting on an old aluminum chair in the yard, reading. It's quiet. Rig is lying by my side. I realize it's the most relaxed, comfortable moment I've had this summer. I'm not tired. I don't have to face twins today or tomorrow or even the next day. I'll be hanging out with my best friends in a little while. I'm about to have them bow down before me, about to win their undying Water Balloon Blitz Respect. There's also the matter of a guy. He lives in that house over there, and I think about him from time to time. Or all the time.

I wonder what he thinks of me. Am I just some nearby person, some Yankees fan with an excellent dog, who moved into a house that's near his house?

I finish my book and set it down on the grass right next to a huge dandelion cluster. I reach to pull it out and I'm sort of wrestling with it—it has really deep roots—when I hear Jack calling my name.

"Hey, Jack!" I yell back.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing. What are you doing?"

"I mean with the grass. You look like you're fighting with the lawn. And maybe losing."

"Just trying to pull something out. No camp today?"

"On the Fourth? No. Just hanging. You?"

"Yeah, for now."

"You want to watch the fireworks later?"

Oooh! Yes, I do. More than he could possibly even come close to imagining.

But Leah and Jane and I have a code of friendship that prohibits us from canceling plans with each other for some guy.

But before, it was always just the
idea
of some guy. This is
Jack.
He's more than some guy. It's not as if Leah and Jane even invited me along when they—

But no. No. You don't treat your friends like that. You don't.

Oh! I want to! I want to cancel.

Speak, Marley.
"I'm supposed to go to Jane's house," I say.

"Oh, okay. You're around this weekend, though?"

"Yeah," I say.

I want to say more. I hate not getting to be with him. What can I say?

"Have fun. I'll see ya."

"Yeah. See you later."

***

"Bye, Dad. I'll call you when I'm ready to come home, okay? Probably sometime after the fireworks." Jane's house is on a hill, so even though she's not that near the park, she has a great view.

"Have fun, Marley. Be careful."

"I always am."

I have that prickly it's-my-birthday kind of pins-and-needles feeling. This is going to be so fun! Stealing the title back from Leah!

It's a hot day, but I love creating my own cool breeze as I cruise from this part of town back to my real neighborhood. It brings back the days when Leah and Jane and I finally got our bicycle independence and were allowed to ride around the neighborhood together, without a parent. We were giddy with freedom. We have so much history like that.

I go four blocks out of my way to ride down my street. I don't have my keys with me, but I'd love to go inside. To just look at my desk. To sit in front of my bookcase stacked with all my old favorites. When I think of what I really want to be doing, my mind travels back a few miles to Jack. I'd like to just sit with Jack and look up at the sky.

I ride up Jane's driveway and place my bike neatly next to the garage. Jane's parents are kind of uptight—as if neatness matters more than comfort or having fun. If you ever forget where you are for a second and actually walk on their bright green lawn, Mr. or Mrs. Martin will run to the front door or pop out from a window to start squawking at you. My father considers their lawn a crime against nature. He says nothing could be that green without tons of toxic chemicals.

I tap my pocket, glad to hear the plastic rustling in there. I love this kind of secret, like when you've gotten the perfect gift for someone and just can't wait to give it to them. Only better. Bigger.

I ring the doorbell and Jane's right there. Jane-in-glasses. I hide my secret smile. "Hey!" she says. "Leah, she's here. Happy Fourth of July, Marley."

"Thanks so much," I say. "I had a lot to do with our country achieving independence, and it's good of you to remember that."

"Marley's here?" I hear, and then Jane's little sisters and brother come running. It's not like I've ever been nice to them, but for some reason they love me.

"Hey, Christian. Hi, Sammi. I like your haircut, Josie."

"Mom!" Jane yells. "Can you please get them out of here?"

"Marley, how nice to see you," Mrs. Martin says, coming into the hallway, carrying a big grocery bag. Leah's walking behind her, carrying two bags of chips. "How are your parents?"

"My mom's away. I'm staying at my dad's. They're fine."

"Oh, well. Good. Tell them both I send my best."

"I will."

"As you have no doubt heard, we are all under strict orders to remain inside the house during this party. But if you need anything, please let me know. Are you sleeping over too?"

I shake my head. "Um, no. My dad's going to get me later."
Sleeping over? Too?

"Well, have fun."

"Yeah, Mom. Stay inside. And make sure Sammi doesn't sneak out."

Leah grabs my arm and she and Jane lead me out back. "OH! My God, Marley. We invited all the guys from our division and we told them to bring their friends and—"

"Your mom didn't flip?" I ask Jane.

"She knows we invited some people, but maybe not as many as we really did."

They will be right inside. What parent wouldn't look through a window? It's funny, because Jane's glasses really make her
look
smarter...

"What should I do?" I ask.

"Find the soda, and let's bring that tub over there outside, and throw whatever ice we have in it. Sage is going to bring some bags of ice, but that'll do until he gets here."

"Sage is coming?" I say, a smile creeping across my face. I love watching Jane when she's with a guy she likes. She gets so ... tight. Leah is a natural flirt. When it comes to guys, Jane is more like me. She gets all stiff and shy.

I say I'm going to hunt down some more plastic cups, but I go back inside and race up to the second floor to scout a good water balloon launch site. The hall bathroom is perfect. Oh, yes.
Perfect.
What more could I ask for? Water source and best launching spot to the pool all in the same little room!

I rush back, with cups, so my absence isn't too obvious. We take armloads of towels outside to the little shed Mrs. Martin set up years ago, a place for swimmers to change out of their suits so they don't trek in and drip unwanted water in her house. Doing anything even remotely messy at Mrs. Martin's house takes incredible courage. I should be off the charts for Water Balloon Blitz Bonus Points.
The world welcomes its new champion, Marley Baird. Thank you. Thank you. Please, no photos at this time.

I'm pouring a tub of pretzels into a big bowl when two guys and a girl show up. I can tell from the greetings that one of them is Sage, but Jane doesn't get around to introducing me. Jane! She has different glasses on now—they're just like her new glasses, only they're dark sunglasses. Wow.

The party revs up fast; each time I look around, there are more people. I thought there were only twenty people in their class, but those friends must have invited a lot of friends too, because the pool is pretty full and there are people all over the yard.

There are only one or two somewhat familiar faces besides Leah and Jane. No one I really know. Definitely no one who knows me. Leah and Jane are both talking in big groups of people who all seem to know each other, so I walk around, just trying to find a place for myself. I spot some bags of ice near the shed and pour all the ice into the tub. I shove the soda down deep so it'll get cold.

Well, then. I look around to make sure no one's watching me. No one is. I sneak into the house. It sounds like Jane's family is watching a movie—a pretty loud one—in the family room, in the front of the house.

I take my time in the upstairs bathroom. I'm like a surgeon preparing for a big operation, only without all the major hand and arm scrubbing. Balloons to the left of the sink. Cleared area by the window, on the bath mat, for filled ones. Deep breaths. Calm demeanor.

Balloon number one, yellow, attached to faucet with the ease of a pro. Slow flow. Inflate, wait.

I am a Water Balloon Blitz poet.

Tie knot.

I overfill a blue one and it ends up with this weird bulge. I push at the bulge and it disappears, but not really, because another bulge, same shape and size, shows up on the other side of the balloon. There's no hiding your bulges when you're a water balloon.

The first two are a little overfull—they'll break easily. You can tell by the feel when you've filled a water balloon exactly right. After the first few, I hit that just-right level each time.

I'm close to bursting with the complete and total awesomeness of what I'm about to pull off.

I stop to take stock—I have a lot. Like, the best stash ever. I open the window and pause, waiting for Jane's mother to start squawking. It's as if she has some freakishly programmed computer that tells her when to scream at someone for opening a window when the air conditioning is on. If she even saw the huge pile of water balloons on her bathroom floor, her computer would short-circuit and she would, well, probably drop dead. Painlessly and instantly.

Good. Silence. Except for happy pool noises: splash ... squeal ... laugh.

There are so many people here. They will all look up, figure it all out, and laugh until they can't breathe. Finally, Leah will shrug with a smile, like, "I can't compete with that!" And Jane will race up here to find my stash and get me back.

This isn't even going to be hard. I have the easiest angle in the world. Straight down is fine—straight out is fine. It's almost too easy.

I wish I could share this moment with someone. I love this!

I should post this on You Tube.

It's loud out there. I think about shouting a warning, but a blitz is a blitz—total shock factor required.

Ready, set, BLITZ! I'm barely breathing, just reaching and throwing, grabbing, throwing. It gets quiet, then people start shouting. I can't hear what they're saying, because I'm blitzing, baby! Yellow! Blue! Splash! Splash! Hands are going up over heads. Red! Yellow! Splash! One on the planter—whoops! People are looking up. I'm more than halfway through my stash. Splash! A rainbow one! Splash! Orange! Red! Splash! I'm going at it two-handed. I feel like I have four hands, I'm moving so fast.

I hear and feel what seems like a stampede of feet up the stairs, racing feet, like the house is on fire. "OH! My God, Marley. What the hell is the matter with you?" Leah is screaming. She grabs my hands at the window and makes me drop the balloons inside, splashing water all over the bathroom floor.