“Is she going to die?” I asked.
India said, “You don’t die from a broken hip, silly.”
But I think Sarah’s grandma did.
“How did she break it?”
India leaned up on her elbow and adjusted her Snoopy pillow. I don’t think that Mr. Allen would ask for her advice if he knew that she still slept on Snoopy sheets.
She began the story, “Grandma has been saving the money that she wins at canasta so that she can buy a water bed.”
Canasta is a card game that Grandma plays every Tuesday with five other women as old as she is. Thelma, Wanda, Violet, Virginia, and June. I know their names because when Grandma hosts, I sometimes pretend to be their waiter and serve them cookies and lemonade. I decrumb the table between snacks. Thelma and Wanda are sisters who say mean things to each other and then laugh and hug. Violet always brings pie. Virginia talks like her throat hurts and has to go to the porch in between games to smoke cigarettes. She smells like the little glass room at the airport where people stand and smoke before they rush out to catch a plane with all the healthy people. June is my favorite. She is very fat, and her cheeks are pink. She always tips me.
India went on with the story.
“Grandma and June went to the Mattress King store to try out beds. Grandma lay down on one side of the bed and told June to lie on the other side. When June got on, the bed moved like a tidal wave. Grandma flew off of the bed and onto the floor. The store clerk said he tried to catch Grandma, but June says he really jumped out of the way of her flying body.”
I felt badly because I wanted to giggle at the story.
India said, “Grandma’s coming to live with us until her hip is better.”
I crawled out of India’s bed and tiptoed to the kitchen for a glass of cranberry juice and then back toward my bedroom. The door to Mom and Dad’s room was open and the lights were off. I walked into their room and stood next to the bed. I stared at Mom’s face without blinking until she finally startled awake. I always wake Mom up this way. Instead of shaking her or saying her name, I will her awake.
It always frightens her.
I said, “Grandma can sleep in my room when she comes to live with us.”
She scooted over and let me crawl into the bed.
That night I slept in between Mom and Dad.
May 16
Craig and two of his friends started a club at school. They call it MASK, which stands for “Men Against Smelly Keats.” Sarah said that I should tell Ms. Grant, but I think that would make them hate me even more than they already do. Sarah agreed and decided to start her own club. She calls it KICK, which stands for “Keats Is a Cool Kid.” She wanted to have the first meeting, which would have been just the two of us, on the monkey bars during recess. I told her that I had to go to the bathroom, but I really went to my secret spot behind the Dumpster to cry. When we lined up to go inside, Sarah told me that her friends Sage, Caitlyn, Elizabeth, and Alexandra wanted to join KICK.
After school we visited Grandma in the hospital. Mom and Dad asked if she would come live with us. Grandma said yes. The hospital smelled like an interstate rest area bathroom. I thought I was going to gag.
Dad asked how school was, and I told him about Sarah’s club. I didn’t tell him about Craig’s club.
Born on this day: Liberace (it’s not a cheese, like India said), Olga Korbut, Christian Lacroix
10
He Sounds Like a Butt Head
Grandma came to live with us the same day that my class took a field trip to the public swimming pool. That morning a shiny metal hospital bed was delivered into our living room. It definitely threw off the feng shui energy of the room. The same people who delivered the bed would be delivering Grandma later in the afternoon. The manny was helping Mom set up the living room like a bedroom for Grandma. That way she could watch television from her tall mechanical bed.
I kissed Mom and gave the manny a high five.
“Dude,” said the manny, “don’t forget your lunch.”
I was going to be swimming all day, so the manny packed an aquatic-themed lunch: tuna sandwich, Swedish fish, Goldfish crackers. And a bag of sand.
I grabbed my lunch, backpack, swimsuit, and towel and ran for the bus.
The day before Ms. Grant had sat us all in a circle and explained the rules of the swimming pool to us.
We already knew them.
No running.
No diving from the sides.
Swimsuits must be worn at all times.
That’s the rule that Belly always breaks.
Ms. Grant looked at the boys and said, “Hey y’all, you need to be really organized tomorrow and keep your stuff together. I can’t come into the boys’ locker room to look for lost clothes.” All the boys giggled at the thought of Ms. Grant in the boys’ locker room.
The girls rolled their eyes at the boys.
We walked from the school over to the swimming pool in a single-file line from shortest to tallest. I was first in line. I’m always first in line. There were eight girls behind me before there was another boy.
It was Craig.
When I looked back at him, he said in a fake Texas accent, “Hey, Romeo, how you like all them girls?”
I could feel my cheeks go a dark shade of pink, and I turned around just in time to see that Ms. Grant had already started to walk toward the swimming pool. I ran to catch up. The person behind me ran to catch up with me. And so on. We looked like an undulating caterpillar shimmying down the sidewalk.
The pool was only a few blocks away, but the walk seemed endless. All the way there Ms. Grant asked me questions about how Lulu was doing. Soon Ms. Grant’s questions about Lulu turned into Ms. Grant’s stories about Lulu. The time Lulu brought the most canned goods for the food drive. The time Lulu made a model of a plant cell out of a cake mix and frosting. The time Lulu dressed up as Hillary Clinton for Halloween.
I wanted to tell Ms. Grant about the time Lulu cried when Mom told her that milk came from a cow’s udder, but I didn’t.
I was so relieved when we finally arrived at the swimming pool. We entered through the chain-link fence, and the girls went to the locker room on the left, and the boys to the right. The locker room smelled like Uncle Max’s socks and chlorine. I opened up my bag and found my red swimsuit with a note from the manny pinned to it.
“Make a big splash,” it said.
I remembered that I had worn my Scooby Doo underwear that day So instead of stripping in the lockers with everyone else, I walked to the bathroom stall, closed the door, and changed in private. Once I was in my swimsuit, I carefully folded my clothes so that the Scooby Doo underwear was between my Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants. Nobody saw them. I put my folded clothes underneath one of the benches and walked out to the swimming pool with the rest of the boys.
Ms. Grant and Principal Allen split the kids up into groups based on swimming ability. They put me in the low group, which was mostly girls. There was one other boy named Scotty, but he had to wear floaties because one leg was shorter than the other. I pointed out to Mr. Allen that I knew how to swim and it was probably an oversight that I wasn’t put in a more advanced group.
He looked down at me and said, “Why are you complaining? You could be back at the school doing math or English.”
I wanted to grab the toupee off of his head, throw it in the middle of the swimming pool, and yell, “Rat in the pool. Rat in the pool.”
But I didn’t.
On my way back to my group I walked by Sarah. She was in the top group. Craig and the other boys, who look like they already have muscles, were in the top group.
Sarah saw my disappointment and said, “Swim with Scotty. He’s nice.”
He is nice.
Scotty and I made up a game. One of us would sit on the side of the pool and yell out a category (colors, states, Broadway plays), while the other one would jump in and try to name something from the category before he went underwater. It usually sounded like t
his: “Redblubblubblub.” “Oklahoblubblub.” “The Lion Kiblubblubblub.”
Scotty’s floaties helped him win the game.
When we opened our lunches, Scotty discovered that somebody had splashed water on his. His bagel looked like a sponge that was leaking cream cheese milk. I shared my lunch with him. He likes Swedish fish as much as I do. I ate the red ones. He ate the green ones. We built little sand castle pyramids out of the bag of sand until it had been an hour and the danger of cramping was gone.
When Ms. Grant blew the whistle to signal that the wait was over, I jumped in, grabbed my stomach, and pretended to have a cramp.
“If only I’d waited one more minute,” I moaned, and pulled myself underwater.
Scotty laughed.
Sarah yelled from the high dive, “Judge me.” She plummeted into the water headfirst.
“Ten,” I yelled.
“Ten,” Scotty yelled.
Sarah abandoned her group and spent the rest of the day swimming with Scotty and me.
At two thirty Ms. Grant blew the whistle and hollered. Ms. Grant doesn’t yell. She hollers.
She hollered, “Go get dressed. We’re fixin’ to leave.”
We climbed out and went into the locker rooms. Craig was the last one out of the pool. Ms. Grant had to yell at him twice. He bobbed up and down in the water and pretended that he couldn’t hear her.
I grabbed my folded clothes from underneath the bench and went into the bathroom stall to change. I unfolded my shirt and pants but couldn’t find my underwear. I shook out my Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants and even rifled through the pockets. Nothing. I looked inside my shoes, in case I was suffering from a brain lapse and had maybe stuffed them in there.
They were nowhere to be found.
I walked back out into the lockers to see if I had dropped them, but they weren’t on the floor. Where could they be? I felt like Mom searching for her car keys (she found them in the refrigerator once).
I raced back to the bathroom stall and decided to get dressed without them. Uncle Max calls going without underwear “going commando.” When he says this, Lulu pretends to dry heave.
I got dressed, minus my underwear, and exited the locker room with the rest of the boys.
We lined up in single file, again shortest to tallest, and began walking back to our school. I could feel my khaki pants right up against my skin. I turned around to see where Scotty was in line but instead saw Craig walking along with my Scooby Doo underwear on the top of his head like a hat. Nobody would have known that they were mine if Mom hadn’t written my name on the waistband.
KEATS, in big black letters, stretched across Craig’s forehead.
What a crummy day. I even had to ride the bus home alone because Lulu had to go to piano lessons and India had an after-school project. As the bus pulled away, I saw Craig standing on the sidewalk in front of the school whipping my underwear around in circles above his head and waving to me with his other hand.
I wanted the bus to get me home as fast as it could because I thought I might burst into tears at any minute. But then I remembered that Grandma was going to be there when I got home. I didn’t want to cry then. I couldn’t wait to see her.
When the bus reached my stop, I leaped out the door to race home.
“See you tomorrow, darlin’.” I barely heard the bus driver.
Housman met me in the driveway and ran with me into the house.
My hair was still wet from swimming when I spotted Grandma. She was lying up on her throne bed in the middle of the living room. She told me later that it was more comfortable than the water bed. Belly was taking a nap on pillows on the floor next to Grandma’s bed.
And Uncle Max was there! He and the manny were laughing in the kitchen. They didn’t stop smiling as they talked to each other. They looked like the hosts of the morning show on television. It was like they’d known each other forever.
I ran and jumped into Uncle Max’s arms. Housman jumped up and down at Uncle Max’s feet.
Uncle Max groaned and pretended to have a bad back when he picked me up.
He said, “Keats, you’ve grown so much. Is that a mustache?” He looked closely at my upper lip.
Uncle Max had been in San Francisco for three months going to museums and meeting with art gallery owners. He brought Lulu, India, Belly, and me kimonos from a little Japanese shop in San Francisco. Mine was red. He brings us the best presents from his trips.
I put the red kimono on over my clothes, sucked my cheeks in, and walked through the kitchen like a fashion model. Uncle Max and the manny were still laughing when I went to check on Grandma.
I gave Grandma a hug, and she asked me how school was. I didn’t tell her about Craig and my underwear because I thought it seemed silly compared with her broken hip. I did tell her about Scotty and how Sarah swam with us and about the game we made up.
She said, “Keats, my feet are cold. Could you please rub them for me?”
I went to the end of the bed and began rubbing Grandma’s feet. They were cold. Mom’s feet are always cold too. She says that bad circulation runs in her family. I thought about Grandma’s feet hanging through the ceiling over Grandpa Pete’s head.
She fell asleep.
“Come back at about six thirty,” I heard the manny tell Uncle Max before the door shut.
The manny turned to me and said, “Did Ms. Grant look babe-alicious in her swimming suit?”
I smiled but didn’t laugh.
“What’s wrong?” asked the manny “Did you forget that I’m hilarious?”
So I told him about being put in the low swimming group, and about Craig and his new hat, which happened to be my underwear.
“He sounds like a butt head,” the manny said, laughing at his own joke.
It took me a minute to laugh, but when I did, the manny said, “Oh, thank goodness, I thought I’d lost my gift of humor. I don’t think I could cope with losing my humor and my hair all in one lifetime.”
I laughed again.
Then the manny told me that Craig probably did that to be the center of attention. He said that Craig probably knows that I don’t have to do anything to be the center of attention because I have natural charisma and style. He said that I’m just like John F. Kennedy, and Craig is more like Richard Nixon.
I saw a television show about Richard Nixon on the Biography Channel. He had cheeks like Droopy Dog.
“Go get your homework done,” said the manny. “Your uncle Max is coming to dinner tonight.”
I disappeared to my room and didn’t come out again until I was called for dinner. I had been putting all of my sweaters and winter things into big Rubbermaid tubs, replacing them with khaki shorts, Hawaiian shirts, and linen pants that Dad had brought for me from Mexico.
When I walked through the living room, Grandma’s bed was empty and her wheelchair was gone. She was in the dining room with everyone else. They screamed, “Surprise!!!” when I walked in. Everybody was sitting around the dining-room table. Grandma was wheeled up next to Lulu.
They all had underwear on their heads.
Even Lulu, who hates the word underwear.
Mom had on a pair of Dad’s boxers.
Dad had one of Mom’s bras.
Lulu had a pair of India’s flowered panties.
India had Lulu’s Tuesday underwear.
Belly had DecapiTina’s little white ones hanging off one ear.
Grandma had on one of Belly’s nighttime pull-up diapers.
The manny had a pair of boxer briefs.
And Uncle Max was wearing a pair of Grandma’s big lacy ones, the ones that my sisters had held up and laughed at when they unpacked Grandma’s suitcase.
The manny handed me a pair of my own Scooby Doo underwear to wear on my head.
We ate the entire dinner that way. Dad even answered the door with Mom’s bra on his head. It was Lucy, our next-door neighbor, selling Girl Scout Cookies.
He bought four boxes of Thin Mints.
May 22
Scotty joined Sarah’s KICK club today. When he saw my Scooby Doo underwear on Craig’s head, he pulled down the waistband of his jeans to show me that he had the same pair of Scooby Doo underwear on, only with a blue waistband instead of red.
I found Lulu’s “The Manny Files” today. She was at Margo’s house working on a school project, and she had accidentally left it on the diningroom table. I opened it and started to read the first page, but I slammed it closed when the manny walked into the room. He asked me how I’d feel if Lulu found my journal and read my secret thoughts. I didn’t see anything in her notebook except the words “belongs in a circus.” I think the manny belongs in a circus too, but probably for different reasons than Lulu does.
Born on this day: Sir Laurence Olivier, Mary Cassatt, Harvey Milk
11
Which Do You Like Better, Bert or Ernie?
Our last writing assignment for the school year was to write a one-paragraph essay about what we want to be when we grow up. Sarah wants to be a horse veterinarian. Scotty wants to be a children’s doctor. The poofy-red-haired girl wants to own a beauty salon. Craig wants to play on a professional football team.
I think that Craig should be more realistic. Maybe he’ll get to play in a prison league someday.
I want to be a concierge in a fancy hotel like the Ritz-Carlton or the Four Seasons. The concierge gets to wear a suit and make reservations at five-star restaurants and theater shows for people who have forgotten how to do it themselves. Last year, before Grandma fell and broke her hip, India and I went to New York City with her. We stayed at the Waldorf-Astoria and she took us out to a fancy dinner. Lulu was at a sleepover and Belly stayed home with Mom and Dad because she was too little.
Grandma asked the concierge, “Could you recommend a nice restaurant that has wonderful food and elegant ambience? Oh, and we’d prefer a place where the maître d’ doesn’t kick the children when nobody’s looking.”
The concierge had short black hair that looked wet and shiny. His knuckles were hairy. He looked like one of the male models from Mom’s Vogue magazines. He wore round silver cuff links.
The Manny Files book1 Page 6