Mercy on These Teenage Chimps

by Gary Soto

  This was an improvement in logic, and I could see her point. I could also feel the pumps behind my eyes preparing to spill tears. I choked. I had never really talked with a girl before, but now I was convinced they were more sensitive.

  "I agree," I responded meekly and turned away to rake a tear from my eye.

  "Mercury used to like to go hiking." Jessica began to ruffle Tammy's fur in affection. "But he wasn't much of a guard dog. He liked people too much."

  "You loved him a lot, huh?"

  "A lot."

  I sighed. Jessica's memory of Mercury was making her sad. And the memory of what Eric had done was making me sad. I wished I had one of Jessica's grandfather's brooms to sweep those feelings away. Wishful thinking.

  In the real world, Eric was a bully and bullies ruled schools, but eventually they went away and sometimes they had their lights punched out by someone who was bigger and badder. This much I knew. Uncle Vic had told me so, and so had my mom when I came home one day holding my nose. I recalled that bloody-nose day because Mom had lamented, "Life is full of crooked roads." She peeked at my nose and added, "And crooked noses!"

  "Come on—let's go!" Jessica beckoned. She wiped her eyes and reached into her pocket for a Kleenex. "Let's be happy."

  Tammy barked and pranced.

  "See—Tammy wants to go," Jessica said. "You lead the way, girl."

  We picked up the scent of our purpose, which was to see Joey, himself hurting from a stinging insult. Jessica began to bat the balloon again, and this time we kept it in the air with every possible part of our bodies, plus Tammy's snout. The balloon dropped several times, but we didn't mind.

  Chapter 12

  When we arrived, victorious in our efforts to keep the balloon afloat, we found Joey's mom squandering her time knitting. It looked like a baby sweater. She was seated in a lawn chair near Joey's tree, the webbed bottom of the chair sagging from the weight of years.

  "Hello, Mrs. Rios," I hailed. "What are you knitting?"

  "Coat for Rex."

  I thought of Tyrannosaurus rex and the miles of yarn it would take to cover that monster. I asked, "Who's Rex?"

  She explained that it was her friend's Chihuahua. Then she asked, "And who do we have here?"

  "This is Jessica. She wanted to see Joey."

  Jessica whispered, "Hi."

  I was surprised that Jessica spoke in a near mumble. Just minutes before, she had preached such a strong message about bullies. She had seemed so confident that as we rolled through life all the hard edges would smooth out. Now her demeanor had completely changed—she seemed bashful as a lamb.

  "Jessica does gymnastics," I said.

  "Have you been doing gymnastics long, dear?" Joey's mom asked. I noticed that her knitting had increased in speed.

  "Since I was six." Jessica's smile was genuine.

  "You must be about ... thirteen."

  "Gee, everyone seems to be thirteen," I remarked lamely. I got the feeling that Joey's mom was suspicious of Jessica. I had to work myself into the conversation to keep it from being a showdown: overprotective mother versus the new girl. "I mean, Cory turned thirteen today, too. Isn't that something?"

  They ignored me.

  Joey's mom asked, "Do you know my son Joey?"

  "Sort of. He doesn't go to the same school as me. But I met him Friday night."

  I shoved my way into the conversation. "Hey, guess what I did today?"

  Mrs. Rios ignored me again. She raised her head and called, "Joey, are you going to come down? It's almost dinnertime."

  The leaves rustled, but, otherwise, there was no response.

  "He's so stubborn," Mrs. Rios stated. She said that she had been trying to coax Joey down so he could get a good night's sleep for school tomorrow.

  I needed to turn the conversation away from Joey and Jessica to keep Mrs. Rios off the scent. I figured I was a pretty good conversation piece and announced, "I went to church today, Mrs. Rios."

  It appeared that I was invisible.

  "Joey is so stubborn," Mrs. Rios repeated. "But a good boy."

  "I'm sure he is," Jessica agreed. "He's Ronnie's best friend, and Ronnie is, like, really super."

  "Jessica and I go way back," I lied as I stumped for attention. "Hey, Mrs. Rios, this is my dog, Tammy".

  Mrs. Rios cut her eyes to me and then lowered them to Tammy.

  "She was sort of abandoned." I ruffled Tammy's head and my new dog looked up, the bud of her tongue showing. She was way cute!

  Joey's mom unexpectedly halted her inquisition. She rose from her chair and sniffed the air—smoke was drifting over the roof from a barbecue in the backyard. "I've got to check on Alex." Mr. Rios considered himself a grill master, though undercooked chicken and burned steaks were his specialty. Joey's mom excused herself and left, her slippers spanking her heels.

  "Gosh, she asked a lot of questions," Jessica remarked. "I don't know if she likes me."

  "She likes you. I know she does." I was going to point out that Mrs. Rios was just being an overprotective mother when the tree began to rustle and shake violently. It seemed as if the tree was going to send Joey catapulting into the next yard. Then, to my shock, I glimpsed Coach Bear climbing awkwardly down the rope ladder. When he was inches from the ground, he let go, landed with a thud that buckled his knees, then turned and hitched up his pants.

  "Coach!" I cried.

  "Ronnie," he said matter-of-factly. "I thought Joey's mom would never leave. I have been up there for almost an hour. I'd hate for anyone to see an old guy like me up in a tree."

  "Are things cool between you and Joey?" I asked.

  He said that he had apologized to Joey and begged him to please come down.

  "Gosh, that's great, Coach." I was happy that he was not just a grumpy hairy bear, but a good guy who could fathom the hurt soul of a teenager. He was tenderhearted after all!

  "I've seen you before," Coach Bear greeted Jessica, who had sidled up next to me.

  "I got a gymnastics award on Friday night."

  Coach Bear pounded his forehead with his palm. "Oh, yeah, dumb me, I forgot." He congratulated her again and mentioned he had a date. He had fish to fry and someone to share it with.

  Coach Bear wasn't more than a dozen steps from his adios when Joey called from the tree, "Ronnie! Ronnie, come up here!" I caught sight of him nervously peering down through the branches. "Ronnie, get up here!"

  I climbed the rope ladder.

  "She's really here?" Joey cried nervously. He was on the verge of hyperventilating, and I felt it was my duty to calm him down. For a second I thought of throwing water into his face. But I decided to ply him with soothing words.

  "Yeah, Jessica's here," I said. "Just relax. Be your usual self."

  At the mention of her name, his cheeks reddened. He gazed shyly down at his feet. It took a few minutes for him to reclaim a hold on himself, during which time I snagged a banana and unzipped it artfully with a fingernail. I would devour that mushy sweetness in three bites.

  "Jessica!" I trumpeted. "Come on up." My attention fell briefly on Tammy, who was drinking from the dripping garden hose. "Tammy, don't go anywhere." Tammy looked up, drops of water clinging to her whiskers.

  Jessica climbed into the tree. At the sight of her, Joey's face turned even redder—heck, he was looking like a ripe plum! It was Jessica's turn to blush and shyly regard her feet. Was this the start of love? In my mind, I pulled back Cupid's bow and slaughtered them really good. Surely they had already started liking each other. What would Joey's mother think of that?

  "Hi," began Joey. Some of the red left his cheeks and traveled to me. It was funny seeing Joey so nervous. Even I was embarrassed.

  "Hi," Jessica whispered in return.

  "Hi," he repeated.

  Jessica presented him with the balloon, which she had been holding behind her back. "Remember this?"

  Joey's eyes became coins of light. Dang, he was expressing all the signs of love! From the look of things, it
was only a matter of seconds before he would float into the air.

  "I remember it," he replied. "You're a really great athlete."

  "Oh, stop it. You are! You were so awesome climbing way up there to get the balloon." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I couldn't do what you did."

  I pushed into the conversation. "Do you know that trees are thirstier than humans? They're thirstier than dogs and cats put together." I wasn't sure if this last statement could be backed up by science, but it sounded plausible. After all, cats and dogs are smaller than your average tree.

  They both ignored me.

  "Climbing up there like that was really something," Jessica gushed with a huge smile. "That was, like, so super!"

  "Ah, thanks," Joey replied, red spots glowing on his cheeks.

  I had had enough.

  "Joey!" I barked at my friend.

  "What?"

  "I was surprised to see Coach Bear."

  The red spots on his cheeks paled.

  "Yeah, he told me how sorry he was."

  "That was nice of him, don't you think?"

  "Yeah. He says he's going to try to get me reinstated next year if I want to wrestle."

  Coach Bear was a champ of a person. For Joey, wrestling was not only the best sport in the world, but one you could put to use if someone pushed you around. Then I noticed Joey had turned goofy again. His smile was off center.

  "Joey, show Jessica around. Give her a tour of your kingdom."

  Joey, a congenial host, was happy to offer a tour of the first level. But first we drank a blueberry smoothie and topped that off with handfuls of almonds and walnuts. We sat cross-legged on a rug as we got comfortable. I began our conversation by saying that green was my favorite color. Joey, who had returned some of his attention to me, crowed, "Green is my favorite color, too."

  We two amigos explored our penchant for the color green. Green was the color of grass and we liked to wrestle in grass and sometimes just park our bodies on grass. Green was the color of a lot of vegetables—artichokes, asparagus, broccoli, peas. We revisited the day we became vegetarians after watching a program on Animal Planet about an orphaned lamb. We debated how to make the best smoothies in the world.

  Jessica was a good listener. She cut her eyes to Joey when he pontificated with expressive gestures, and then she swiveled her attention to me when I bragged about our culinary skills.

  "You guys are so much fun," Jessica praised. We blushed. "You are two of a kind."

  "That's right!" Joey blared. He went on to talk about our bad side, such as when we had written our names in wet cement.

  But for me the conversation stopped when I caught sight of a cinder, red as evil, floating through the air and settling on the wood-shingled roof of the Rios house. The cinder had floated from the backyard, where the grill was.

  "I got to go do something," I told them.

  "What?"

  I remembered Joey. I remembered the awards banquet and how he had leaped to his feet and become a hero. Couldn't I do the same? Would some cute girl see me?

  "Something," I answered vaguely. I slithered down the rope ladder and ran to the house with Tammy on my heels. I looked for a way to boost myself up and saw a wooden ladder lying in the bushes. I pulled, dragged, and set the ladder against the house. I was up on the roof in a flash. As I waved at Joey and Jessica in the tree, I realized that both their names began with a J. Was it a coincidence? Or cosmic? Would I find a Rebecca or a Rachael?

  But I had no time to ponder my future love life because a breeze had breathed on the cinder, setting a shingle on fire. It was sort of like a small campfire—flames leaping but not high. I started stomping, jumping up and down on the flames, rubbing them with the soles of my shoes and even spitting at them.

  After I crushed the fire, I stood on that shingle to smother it for good. I could feel some heat in my shoes, but I was determined to conquer that trouble spot on the roof.

  "What's going on up there?" Joey's mom was gazing up at me. She was holding a skewer of vegetable shish kebab—how sweet she was to remember that Joey and I were vegetarians.

  "It's a small fire, Mrs. Rios," I yelled. "Don't worry. I put it out already." I felt like a hero and even envisioned my photo in the newspaper. I saw myself being presented with a gift certificate and a bronze plaque. And was that me at the wheel of Pinkerton's fire engine?

  To further demonstrate my heroics, I started stomping on the smoldering shingle, a mistake because I lost my balance, fell on my rump, and started skidding off the roof. Yikes, I whimpered. Here I go again. Once again, I saw my life flash past me—Joey and I in our strollers, the day at the zoo with Mom and my deadbeat dad, my trike, my first bike, a heaping pile of Sacagawea dollar coins, my two years in Little League, my one year of really bad soccer, again my trike, bowls and bowls of bananas and apples, again my first bike but this time in the back of that mean teenager's truck. I saw my life whiz past and in those seconds I realized that maybe Mom was right when she said that life is short. But could it be this short?

  As I flew off the roof, I caught sight of Tammy. She was gnawing at a flea on her shoulder and seemed indifferent to my possible demise. I had time to see Joey and Jessica in the tree, their mouths open as I fell. I had time to see Mrs. Rios who was holding up that skewer of vegetables—my reward for a flight more dangerous than gymnastics, perhaps even more gutsy than a thirteen-second pin in wrestling. I gulped. I winced. I sucked in a lungful of air, and realized that I had done at least one thing memorable in my thirteen years: I had brought Joey and Jessica together.

  Like a cat, I landed on my feet. But like a gymnast I then dropped and rolled, gathering up grass and creating a dizzy spin inside my head. Tammy barked and wagged at my accomplishment.

  "Ronnie, are you okay?" Mrs. Rios asked.

  I staggered to my feet, brushed myself off, and let Tammy lick my fingers, which burned with pain from splinters.

  "Yeah, I'm talented at falling off roofs."

  Mrs. Rios handed me the skewer and disappeared into the house for rubbing alcohol and tweezers to yank out my splinters with.

  I sat down on the lawn, where I nibbled the middle goodies on the skewer—the roasted tomatoes first, followed by what I discovered were chunks of zucchini—and then jerked out of that tasty experience when I heard Joey cry, "Are you okay?"

  I got to my feet, churning the food in my mouth. I swallowed. "Yeah, I'm okay."

  "Was that a fire?" Jessica asked.

  I could see her pants legs but not the rest of her. She and Joey were still way up in the branches.

  "Yeah, it was."

  Joey told me that I was really brave and announced that he would be coming down from the tree.

  "Take your time." I needed to enjoy that skewer. As I devoured the tasty veggies, I came to understand that I had matured. I dabbed the corners of my mouth with the napkin Mrs. Rios had handed me. When I burped, I said, "Excuse me." I was a boy who had crawled out of the muddy swamp of childhood.

  "That was hard," I mumbled. I thought about what it had taken to get Joey to want to come down. I sighed, wiped my greasy hands on the grass, and began to pluck at a sliver.

  I was going to wait for Joey and Jessica to rappel down the tree. There was no hurry. I had just graduated from being a sloppy boy into adolescence. I wasn't even worried about my chimp looks. I felt happy. It was late Sunday afternoon, and shadows were lengthening where only a few minutes ago our town of Pinkerton had been bathed in spring light.

 

 

 
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