by Lorri Horn
Dewey raised his hand.
“Fairchild?”
“Can I go get my math journal?”
“Sure, Dewey. But first, can you walk over to the door and have a look at the big sign, the one that hit you in the head as you walked in here today? Anybody else need to go get their math journals?”
About three additional hands went up. No, there went four, including Elinor’s.
“Right. We’ll just have you all take a little field trip over to the door, gather round, and Dewey will read the sign aloud for us.”
“‘Don’t forget your math journals today,’” Dewey smiled, showing all his teeth as the whole class busted out laughing.
“Rrrruuuunnnn!” Mr. Jordan stretched out the word and they all sprinted out the door.
“Oops,” Dewey said to Elinor at the lockers.
“I don’t even think I have a math journal,” she said.
“Ha! I don’t think he would really expect you to since you’re new. You just got caught in our round up. It’s just a lab book like this. You’re supposed to bring it to class every day.” Dewey pulled out a green and white science lab notebook as he shoved everything else that spilled out of his locker back in and slammed the door to stop the avalanche.
“Got it,” she said, pulling a fresh journal out of her locker.
They ran back together.
When they got back to the door Dewey ducked under the sign again, but Elinor grabbed his shirt and pointed up.
Mr. Jordon had changed the sign.
“Are you reading this one?” it read. “Initial here: X.”
“Yes, Mr. Jordan. Yes, I am!” Dewey whispered, and he rummaged around in his pocket for a pen.
He handed the pen to Elinor, who then also initialed. Dewey sat back down and noticed that the other kids had not noticed the changed sign.
“Better, Fairchild. There’s hope for you yet.” Mr. Jordan walked by and thumped Dewey’s journal with a pencil eraser.
When they got out of class, Dewey met Seraphina and Colin at the vending machines to get a snack and then head on over to the grassy area. Elinor was sitting drawing in her new math journal.
“Hey, Elinor,” Seraphina said.
“Can I see?” Dewey asked as she looked up.
She held up the page. She had what looked like a bunch of sketches of girls and women. Some had green hair, some purple, some black and brown.
“Whoa,” Colin said. “Those are good.”
Elinor gave a closed-lip smile.
“Do you have any more?”
“Not in here,” she said as she flipped the page. “Just a bunch of eyes.” She showed them she’d been working on drawing large manga-style eyes.
“I wish I could draw,” Seraphina said. “I can’t even draw the rocks I collect well enough to identify them.”
“That doesn’t look so hard,” Colin said sitting down next to Elinor.
She handed him her math journal and pencil.
“Hmm.” He tried sketching out one of those very round eyes she’d done. “How can just two round circles filled in be so difficult? Wait.” He erased. “Okay. It’s harder than it looks.”
“What do you call that style again? Anime?” Dewey asked.
“No, manga, right?” Seraphina answered. “Isn’t anime just for animation and stuff?”
“Yup.”
“It’s Japanese. Elinor Mori. You’re Japanese, right?” asked Dewey.
“Jewish.”
The bell rang.
“Well, see you guys,” Elinor said.
“Jewish?!” Dewey called after her.
“Jewish,” she called over her shoulder and walked away.
Trippet
Name: Archie Thomas
Grade: 6
School: Woodbine Middle School
Home Address: 2 Mockingbird Lane
Best Entry to Your Home Without Being Noticed: No idea. We have an alarm system.
Top Three Hiding Places in Your Home: My room, the laundry area off the kitchen, behind the couch in the family room.
Siblings (names and ages): Angelica, 15
Pets: cat
Parents’ Names: Naomi and Tom
Problem Parent(s) Cause You: Won’t let me play any video games on weekdays
It had been a while since Dewey had done this kind of stakeout. An alarm system was definitely going to complicate matters. He texted Archie.
alarm . . . think you’re going to have to just invite me over
Just then, Stephanie stuck her head in his room.
“What ya doin‘?” she asked.
“Not much. I was about to do some homework.”
“Can you let me read you a poem I have to read for English?”
“Okay.” This was new. Stephanie never came in his room for help or any other reason unless it was to bug him, and even that she hardly did anymore.
“I need to practice in front of a live human.” She took his pulse. “You’ll do.”
No one had to tell Stephanie to stay away from video games on school days. Not that she really liked them, but she liked her phone and her friends more, and no one had to tell her how to stay away from those because she liked being the best at school the most.
Stephanie’s hair, more dark blond than brown these days, hung straight to her shoulders. She was growing out her bangs, and she parted them in the middle, framing her face like a tapered curtain valance. Her eyes were brown, almost honey hued, and when she smiled her cheeks raised, adding a third dimension to what might otherwise seem a more simple canvas. She had, as most her age did, the occasional blemish to show for all the internal flux of her developing self. Today, she wore a pair of blue overalls with a white t-shirt.
“Emily Dickinson’s ‘Because I Could Not Stop for Death.’ Ready?”
“Yup,” Dewey hopped up on his bed and sat crossed legged.
When she’d finished reciting, flawlessly, Dewey noted, he applauded. “What the heck is ‘trippet’?”
“Tippet,” she corrected. “No idea. I still need to look it up. Want to look it up for me?”
“‘A scarf-like narrow piece of clothing worn over the shoulders.’”
“That makes sense.”
“Um, if you have any slim idea what that poem is talking about, I guess!” laughed Dewey.
“Do you want me to explain it?”
“Why, no I don’t. Did you actually pick that poem?”
“It was from a bunch to choose from. But I liked it.”
“Why do you have to learn it by heart, though?”
“Don’t I sound super smart that way?”
“I guess so?”
“That’s why!”
“Oh.”
“Thanks! Can I do it once more if I need to?”
“Sure. Hey, Stephanie? What if Mom or Dad told you that you couldn’t do homework on weekdays. What would you do?”
“That’s a stupid question. Why would they ever do that?”
“They wouldn’t. But what would you do if they did?”
“I’d find a way to do it anyway, I’m sure. I’m a good daughter, but I wouldn’t let them ruin my life if they went psycho on me.”
“Right,” Dewey said slowly.
“You’re a nut, Dewey,” Stephanie said, smiling as she walked out. “But thanks for your help.”
Just then, Dewey realized that Archie hadn’t texted him back.
He texted:
?
Still no reply.
Then it hit him. It was a weekday! He wouldn’t see anything Dewey texted him at all.
Quiñceaneara
“Hey!” Dewey said. “Here you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Oh, Hi!” Archie did not look up from his screen. He had a laptop and was mining some stone in Minecraft.
“I had no idea we could be doing this in here! Wait ‘til I tell Colin!”
“What? W
ait. Skeleton, hang on a—YES!” Archie clenched his fists in a ‘money-win’ gesture and looked up from the screen. “Yeah. No one’s ever here at lunch or if they are, they don’t seem to mind as long as we don’t get too loud about it.”
“Show me your base.”
“Here. It’s an underwater house. But I need sponges.”
“Oh yeah, those are super hard to find. Underwater. That’s cool, though,” nodded Dewey. “Hey, speaking of super hard. Since I can’t text you you’re super hard to reach, so let’s set up now when I’m coming over to your house. You’re allowed friends on weekdays, right?”
“We’re not fanatics!”
“Okay, okay,” Dewey laughed. “See you there tomorrow, then.”
“Argh!”
“Or not?”
“Creeper got me!”
“Sorry!” Dewey patted him gingerly on the shoulder.
Archie had already respawned, and his eyes were glued back onto the screen.
“Right, then. See ya!” Dewey said, walking out.
When he caught up with Seraphina and Colin, they had just about finished eating and were out on the grass deciding how much they should reveal to Elinor about the V-Ending Machine crisis of last semester. They’d almost lost their vending machines, but thanks to the snack gods and their own ingenuity, they had saved them!
“We didn’t even have vending machines at my last school,” Elinor said. “We had a food truck and little food carts once a week, though.”
“Hmm. Not bad,” Colin said, “but I like to know it’s there, waiting for me right where I left it, when I need it.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Elinor said, “but options are more limited that way. We used to have wraps, and bagels with cream cheese, and good stuff.”
“Oh! I could go for a bagel and cream cheese now,” Seraphina said.
“You’d be surprised what they have in the vending machines in Japan,” said Dewey. “They’ve got everything in those things!
“Speaking of which,” Colin said. “You’re Jewish? How are you Jewish? So, you’re adopted, right?”
“Colin!” Dewey and Seraphina objected together.
“It’s okay,” Elinor said, her cheeks turning almost as pink as the stripe in her hair.
“So, are you?” Colin asked.
“No. Are you?” she smiled back.
“No,” said Colin.
“I am,” Dewey shrugged.
“No, you’re not,” Colin said.
“That’s not funny,” Seraphina said.
“I AM!” Dewey insisted.
“What?! No way,” Colin said. “How do we not know that?”
“You never asked.”
“Swear?”
“I swear! Ask my parents.”
“What?! Dewey’s adopted?”
“Maybe your birth parents are Japanese,” laughed Elinor.
“Do you know who they are?”
“Nope.”
“Do you know their names?”
“I forget.”
“Do you know how old you were?”
“When I was born?!”
“When you were adopted!”
“Three days.”
“Okay,” Colin said, starting to believe him. “Well that’s something!”
“I don’t know. I used to know all of the info. I just forget. You can ask my parents.”
“Do you mind talking about it?” Seraphina asked.
“No. Not at all,” Dewey said truthfully. He’d always known his parents adopted him. They used to talk about it a lot when he was little, all about how they had gone to Texas when he was three days old and picked him up to be their very one and only Dewey.
He thought about back in fourth grade when they did those projects on family history and background. He wasn’t quite sure what to do then, exactly. His mom said he could share the story of being adopted or he could share their family background of coming from Sweden and Poland. He decided to share the family background because that’s what felt right to him.
One time in Life Skills, in third grade, Ariana shared her adoption story and Dewey had shared that he was adopted as well. So it was funny to think that not everyone knew, now. But it just hadn’t really come up in middle school yet.
“Whoa. Dewey’s adopted. That’s so cool!”
“You kind of look like your mom, though, that’s funny,” Colin said. Dewey shrugged. Turning the conversation back to Elinor, Colin said, “So you are Japanese?”
“I don’t think so,” Dewey answered.
“Not you, doofus! Elinor!”
“Yeah.”
“Why’d you say you were Jewish?”
“My dad’s family is from Japan. My mom’s born in Seattle.”
Colin cocked his head, still confused.
“She’s Jewish. I’m Jewish. I’m Japanese. I’m American. I’m a girl, not a rabbit.”
“Oh! Why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”
“He only asked if I was Japanese.”
“That’s true, Dewey. That’s what you asked,” Seraphina said.
Elinor flashed her a smile.
“Hmm,” Dewey agreed, nodding thoughtfully.
“It suuure was,” Colin agreed, drawing out the word.
“My dad tested his DNA to find out his genetic background. He found a whole bunch of his background came from Armenia. We don’t even know family from there,” Seraphina said.
“Well, this has been a very there-are-different-kinds-of-families lunch! I’m so glad you could all join us!” Colin said, sweeping his hands grandly.
“You’re a goofball, Colin” said Seraphina, and they all laughed in agreement, standing up to throw away and recycle their trash.
“So do we get to go to your quinceañeara when you’re thirteen?” Colin asked.
Seraphina, Elinor, and Dewey all burst out laughing.
“My Bat Mitzvah? Yeah, sure.”
“Well, I’m sorry. I don’t speak Hebrew.”
“Have you learned nothing in Spanish? Quince. Fifteen?!”
“Huh. That’s funny,” Colin said, nodding slowly as he put the pieces together. “Well, can I still come?”
“Absolutely.”
That’s Something
Dewey sat at Archie’s kitchen table having an after-school snack.
The house smelled warm and inviting when they walked in on what was probably the first rainy day of the year. Both boys were soaked down through their backpacks, and they’d spread out the contents by the living room fire for drying out.
Schools in southern California were not prepared for rain. Lockers were outside, which made for a wet situation during inclement weather. The passageways from one class to the next were also mostly outside, so kids who rarely ever needed an umbrella, and who would rather be caught dead than holding one anyway, found themselves drenched as they entered their classes.
Dewey, at least, had a rain slicker with a hood that kept him mostly dry, and his backpack didn’t leak too much. But it sure felt nice to be indoors on this rainy day with the smells of fresh dough and hotdogs in the air.
“Do you like catsup, Dewey?” asked Archie’s mom as she pulled out warm mini-pigs from the oven. She had made the dough from scratch with flour, milk, and butter and rolled each little mini hotdog in the triangle of dough, brushed with a bit of egg for glaze, and sprinkled with salt. Dewey wanted to eat the smell.
“I do,” Dewey nodded.
“Grab some, Archie,” she directed. “And get the carrot slices out, too, would ya?”
This was turning out to be a whole different kind of stakeout, thought Dewey as he munched happily on a carrot stick and dipped his mini pig-in-a-blanket into some catsup.
“So, how about you boys enjoy your snack and, well, do you have much homework?”
“Not much at all,” Dewey lied. He really wanted to see what she offered up for them to do without elect
ronics if there was no homework to be done.
“I’ve got some,” Archie said not catching the clue. My fault, thought Dewey. I should have prepped him better. He popped another hotdog into his mouth.
“Well, I’ve got enough to keep me busy while you do some,” Dewey said working the dog into his cheek so he could speak.
“Okay,” she said. “Go take care of your work and then you can hang out.”
In fact, Archie had very little work that had to be done, and Dewey did some of his own, and then there they sat.
“What’cha wanna do?”
“What do you usually do?” Dewey asked.
“I don’t know. Whatever.”
“You boys all done?” his mom asked, coming in from the other room.
“Yeah. Can we watch a movie? It’s raining.”
“No. Find something else to do,” she said, smiling, and walked out.
“See,” he said.
“Hardcore,” agreed Dewey.
“Come on, let’s just go in the garage. We’ll find something there.”
Dewey could not believe Archie’s collection of Nerf guns. There were four, 50-gallon plastic storage bins filled with Nerf guns and darts.
“Whoa! No way!”
“Yeah. I know. I have a lot now.”
Dewey began to unpack the boxes.
“What’s this one?”
“Cross Bolt Blaster.”
“Oh! And this?”
“Sharpfire.”
“Pass me some darts!”
“It’s pretty wet out, Dewey.”
“True. Hmm. Oh, Soakers, then! We’ll just get more wet!”
“Okay!”
“Here. This box is all the water ones.”
They dug through the box and pulled out about six super soakers, pistols, bottles, and, Dewey’s favorite, the Chewbacca Bowcaster, and went to the hose to fill them up.
It was no longer raining, but the grass was wet and muddy, so they took off their shoes and socks as they each ran to their respective bases.
“Hey! No head shots!” yelled Dewey as he got pelted on his cheek by a hard stream of water.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to,” Archie said, putting his right hand up in a sign of appeasement.
Dewey took that opportunity to pelt Archie in his outstretched palm then ran around behind him and soaked his back.