Sadly, I couldn’t afford a hundred minutes. Due to some recent spending, and because I liked to keep five emergency dollars in my underwear drawer, I only had about sixty dollars to spend. And to talk to Sally in Japan cost two dollars a minute. I thought that was a rip-off. But I needed the card. So I bought it. It came with a lot of instructions that I did not have time to read. I handed it to the man working at the register.
“What’s this?” the man asked me. He wore a bright blue smock and a pin that said FRED.
“My international calling card,” I said. I lifted up my money to show Fred that I had it.
“An international calling card?” he asked. He took my money and frowned. “You’re not trying to contact some stranger you met on the Internet, are you? That would be dangerous.”
He gave me back a few pennies in change and my calling card.
“I’ve never met any strangers on the Internet,” I said. “I only e-mail people in my row.”
“Then why do you need an international calling card?” he asked.
I wanted to tell Fred that it was none of his business. But I was afraid he might make me get my mother.
“I’m going to call my very good friend Sally who lives in Japan. She moved there in September,” I said. “I miss her.”
“I see,” Fred said. “I hope you two have a good talk.”
I smiled.
“Me too,” I said. I hadn’t realized that the electronics counter was such a friendly place.
I stuck my calling card in my pocket along with the receipt and went to look for my mother near the bananas.
Walking through the superstore, I had a terrible thought. What if Polly was in the superstore? What if I ran into her? I looked around. I didn’t see her. That was a good thing. Because if I did, she probably would have asked me what I was doing. But I wouldn’t have told her. Because it was none of her business. And she probably would’ve told me that she was at the superstore buying catnip for her cat or something.
Because that’s just like Polly. Always talking about how she had a cat and a barf bag and I didn’t. I found my mother holding three huge bunches of bananas.
“Will these be enough?” she asked.
“I’m not a gorilla.”
“I think gorillas are meat eaters,” she said, setting the bananas in the cart. “I don’t think they eat bananas. I think they’ll even eat each other.”
That didn’t sound right.
“No,” I said. “Gorillas are herbivores. And they’re shy. And smart. You can teach a gorilla sign language. They even have fingerprints. I saw a show about them.”
My mother blinked at me like she was surprised to learn this.
“Once, at the circus, I saw a chimpanzee operate a motorbike,” she said. “Vroom, vroom.”
But I didn’t know what that had to do with what I’d said about gorillas. The thought of my mother seeing that sort of thing at a circus made me sad. Because it was wrong to put a chimpanzee on a motorbike and make it go vroom vroom. Just like it was wrong to put cats on plastic buckets and make them dance and sing during a rainstorm. Riding home in the car, thinking about this, I thought of two other things that were wrong with the world. My favorite aunt didn’t belong all the way in Modesto. And my parents did not belong apart.
Chapter 21
Makeup and Inspiration
Nina and I talked on the phone every night for a whole week. But we couldn’t think of a project.
“We’re running out of time,” Nina said.
“I’m aware of that,” I said.
“Our project is due in ten days,” she said.
“I’m aware of that, too,” I said.
“Maybe we could do something with ice,” Nina said.
“Like what?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Nina said.
“What about goats?” I asked. “I really like goats.”
“But I’m allergic to all fur,” she said.
“Right,” I said. “Plus, you use special soap.”
“Have you asked your mother for ideas?” Nina asked.
“No,” I said. Then I thought it might be a good idea to tell Nina the truth about something. “Nina, we should never mention this project to my mother.”
“Why?” Nina asked.
“My mother is not a fan of advanced science,” I said.
“Really?” she asked.
“Yes. And if she finds out about the science fair, you’ll be doing this project alone,” I said.
“Wow,” Nina said. “I won’t say anything.”
“Good,” I said. “Do you have any other ideas?”
“Maybe we could do something with magnets,” Nina said.
“Like what?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe we could attach them to marshmallows,” Nina said. “And heat them up.”
I sighed. “That’s not science, Nina,” I said. “That’s making s’mores that you can’t eat because they have magnets in them.”
“You’re right,” Nina said. “I can’t think of anything else.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll call you again tomorrow.”
When I got off the phone I stomped into the living room. I didn’t know we had company.
“Camille,” my mother said. “This is Beatrice. She’s our Avon Lady.”
“Hi,” I said.
The woman was wearing very red lipstick. And she was in the process of putting that same very red lipstick on my mother.
“Do you like makeup, Camille?” Beatrice asked. “I’m giving your mother a makeover.”
My mother laughed. I thought her lips made her look like she had a clown mouth.
“Camille is too young for makeup,” my mother said.
I watched Beatrice brush pink powder on my mother’s cheeks.
“This rose tone brings out your eyes,” Beatrice said.
“I just want something easy,” my mother said. “Something I don’t have to slave over in the morning.”
“How about no makeup?” I said. “That’s the easiest. And the cheapest.”
My mother frowned at me.
“Makeup is essential,” Beatrice said. As she spoke, she pointed the brush at me. I saw a huge ring on her finger that looked like a tooth.
“What is that?” I asked.
“A blush brush,” Beatrice said.
“No, on your hand,” I said.
Beatrice looked at her ring and smiled.
“It’s an elk tooth,” she said. And then she kept putting blush on my mother.
“Camille, close your mouth,” my mother said.
I did. Then I asked a question.
“Why are you wearing an elk tooth?” I asked.
“It’s a gift from my husband,” she said. “He wears one too. We’re bowhunters.”
And I knew that if you were a bowhunter it meant that you went into the wilderness, usually Montana, and shot animals like deer and elk with a bow and arrow.
“You kill elk and make jewelry out of their teeth?” I asked. Because I was beginning to think that our Avon Lady was a weirdo.
“It was the first elk we took down together,” she said. “It was special. So we decided to save some sort of relic.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Do you know what a relic is?” Beatrice asked.
I shook my head.
“Well, a relic is a very special object. It’s sacred,” she said.
And I thought it was pretty awful that she’d killed a sacred elk. But then Beatrice explained a lot more about relics. She said that they were objects that had been saved, mostly for religious reasons, for hundreds and hundreds of years.
“Do they bring luck?” I asked.
“I think they do,” she said.
Beatrice winked at me and then turned back to my mother. And kept slathering makeup on her.
“I have to wear makeup for our school play,” I said. “I’m a cat.”
“Well, one day you’ll want to wear makeup to accen
tuate your features and hide your flaws.”
“You mean my freckles?” I asked. “Because I only have nine.”
My mother laughed. And that made it harder for Beatrice to stick makeup on her.
“Camille, you might not realize this now, but your face matters. A woman’s appearance is her calling card.”
And I didn’t say anything else. Because the words calling card made my mind zoom to Sally. And this made me tingle with happiness. I stood and watched Beatrice tap her brush on her hand and then outline my mother’s eyes.
“Maybe you should take a nap,” my mother said.
“A nap?” I asked.
My mother hadn’t suggested that I take a nap in almost three years.
“You look tired,” she said.
And after she said that, I did feel a little sleepy. Worrying about my science project all week was hard work. And so was play practice. We were now to the point that we had to stand on our buckets during our song. We weren’t allowed to just stand next to them, because Mrs. Zirklezack said that we needed to strengthen our balancing muscles.
Resting on my bed, looking at my ceiling, I tried to think of a good project. I wondered what Polly was making. I wondered what Penny was going to build. I thought and thought. And then I fell asleep. That’s when I had a nap dream. Muffin came and found me and sat on my chest. At first, I thought it was Checkers. But then Muffin reminded me that he had orange on his face and body and that Checkers didn’t. I was so happy to have Muffin back. Plus, it was nice that Muffin could finally talk to me.
“I miss you, Camille,” he said. “We used to have so much fun together.”
“I know,” I said. “I wish you were still around. You were very special.”
“Yes,” he said. “I know.”
When I woke up, even though it was almost night, I ran to the phone and called Nina.
“What is it?” Nina asked.
“I can’t tell you right now,” I said. Then I whispered, “I can’t talk about advanced science at the moment.”
“Is your mom right there?” Nina asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you have an idea for our project?” Nina asked.
“I do,” I said.
“Why don’t you come over to my house on Friday and we can get started?” Nina said.
“We have to do it at my house,” I said.
“But what if your mom sees us?” Nina asked.
“We’ll be in my backyard,” I said. “She won’t see anything.”
“Does our project involve marshmallows?” Nina asked.
“No,” I said.
“Magnets?” Nina asked.
“No,” I said.
“What does it involve?” Nina asked.
“Shovels,” I said.
Chapter 22
The Dig
All week long, Nina kept asking me nosy questions about our science project.
“Are you sure it doesn’t have worms in it?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Why did you say it involved shovels?” she asked.
“Because it does,” I said.
“But worms live in the dirt!” she said.
“Look,” I said. “Our project doesn’t involve worms. But it does involve dirt. So we might possibly see one worm.”
“I just want to be prepared,” Nina said.
I didn’t tell Nina about the project because I was afraid she’d object. I didn’t lay it on her until Friday on the bus.
Three stops before my house, I filled her in on the plan. She seemed confused and a little bit freaked out. But when I asked her if she knew how many potato chips, marshmallows, and pieces of doll furniture half of five thousand dollars would buy, her eyes grew wide and twinkled a little bit, and she finally agreed.
When Nina and I got off the bus, we went inside to meet my mother. The Avon Lady had left a lasting mark. My mother now wore green eye shadow. It wasn’t very dark. But it was still green.
“It’s nice to meet you, Nina,” my mother said. “Do you want anything to eat?”
Nina shook her head. I think our science project made her lose her appetite.
“We’re going to play outside,” I said.
My mother smiled. “Have fun.”
After we left my mother to work out in the den, I led Nina straight to the garage and handed her a shovel. I told her to follow me. Nina did not have very strong muscles in her arms. When she tried to walk with her shovel, the handle kept bumping her in the forehead. After a few bumps, she finally spoke.
“This feels like a bad idea,” she said, purposely walking slower than I wanted.
I tuned her out and kept walking. Because my idea was the best idea either one of us had had.
We made our way across my backyard, through my mother’s freshly rototilled garden, and into the field, overgrown with weeds. I led her to the pile of stones that propped up Muffin’s Popsicle-stick cross. Because it had sentimental value, I carefully slid the cross into my back pocket.
“This is the place,” I said, striking the blade of my shovel into the ground. Because Muffin was so special, I thought a great project would be to bring his bones to class. And talk about them. And I thought I knew exactly how to do this. Because on the Science Channel, I’d seen paleontologists unearth a bunch of graves, and brush the dirt off the bones, and find the skeletons looking almost perfect.
“How long has your cat been dead?” Nina asked, struggling to push the head of her own shovel into the earth.
“Two years,” I said. “He never saw the mail truck coming.” I lifted a big scoop of dirt out of the hole. Two years was plenty of time, I thought, for even a good-sized cat to be reduced to bones.
Muffin had been an excellent tabby. Unlike Fluff, my cat before him, Muffin never used his claws. And he enjoyed being indoors, sunbathing on windowsills, and watching birds on television. And unlike Checkers, my cat before Fluff, Muffin never strayed far from home. I wasn’t sure why I was so unlucky with cats. Even when I whistled at stray cats, they always ran away from me. (Cats are very good runners.)
Nina kicked at the mound of growing dirt with the toe of her sneaker.
“We could build a volcano out of clay and attach it to batteries,” she said.
This idea had been written at the bottom of the science fair instructions. Everybody had read it. That meant it wasn’t a good idea anymore.
“That won’t win. That’s what people build who don’t have good ideas,” I said.
“Okay,” she said.
Nina may have been a wimp, but she was a pretty good digger. Even better than me.
“Hey, I’ve struck plastic,” Nina said, taking her shovel out of the hole.
This was very exciting. I put on my mother’s weeding gloves and reached down. I scooped at the loose dirt, uncovering the bag.
“Help me,” I said, pulling the garbage bag out of the ground.
Nina put on her gloves too and reached down with me. Together we lifted the heavy sack out of the grave.
“Why does this weigh so much?” Nina asked, dropping her end.
That was a good question. I didn’t know why Muffin’s bones were so heavy. I tried to make something up.
“Mud must have gotten inside,” I said, carefully resting my side on the long grass. Moist dirt clung to folds in the dark green plastic near the twist-tied top. The sack was bigger than I’d remembered.
Nina looked green and scared. Even though it was obvious what was going to happen next, she acted like she had no idea what to expect.
“We need to open it up,” I said.
“This isn’t safe. I want to wear goggles.”
Nina folded her arms across her chest and shook her blond, pigtailed head back and forth.
I frowned. Nina was such a drag. Finding goggles would take time. If my mother found out we’d borrowed her gloves or gardening tools to dig up Muffin, she’d be unhappy, even concerned. Not only was she on the lookout for signs
of “advanced science,” but ever since my dad left, my mother had been also watching me more closely. On the phone with her friends, she had even begun referring to me as a preteen.
I poked at the bag with my gloved fingers. In between spots of soft mush, I could feel Muffin’s hard bones. His skeleton felt jumbled up, like most of the bones were out of order.
“It’s safe,” I assured her.
“How are you going to break the plastic?” Nina asked.
I showed her my pocketknife. She shook her head again. I knelt down on the grass and decided where I should make my cut.
“I think I smell something,” Nina said.
I thought I smelled something too. Something nasty. But like a true paleontologist, I pressed on. I held the knife in my right hand and pinched my nose with my left. As I put my knife to the plastic, I heard a soft bark and then a crunching noise. When I looked up, I saw Pinky, Mr. Lively’s spotless, pink-nosed, deaf, albino Dalmatian, darting through my mother’s garden toward us. Nina dropped her shovel and screamed.
“Don’t run,” I warned. “He’ll chase you. He’ll bite.” Rarely was Pinky aggressive, but when he was a puppy he had nipped my mother’s gloved hand. And last week, as the Avon Lady was leaving, Pinky had sunk his teeth into her briefcase and tugged.
“That beast should be muzzled,” the Avon Lady had snapped, inspecting the tear marks on her leather case where Pinky had hooked his teeth.
I was sure that the reason Pinky had bit my mother’s gloved hand and the Avon Lady’s case was because he knew that they were made out of leather and somehow Pinky’s nose knew that leather came from cows. On some level, I thought, Pinky thought he was biting a cow.
“Don’t run!” I yelled again. I wasn’t sure how much leather Nina was wearing, but I did know that Pinky was a dog, and a dog was an animal, and all animals liked to chase things, especially things that were running away.
But Nina didn’t listen. She sprang away from me and Pinky gave chase. I called for them to stop, but neither one did. Nina’s blond pigtails and chubby belly bounced as she ran. It didn’t take long for Pinky to catch up to her, knocking her to the ground. He wagged his tail happily, trying to lick her face.
Nina blocked his tongue with her arms. She curled her legs in to her stomach, trying to make herself into a ball, to protect every part of her against Pinky’s paws and teeth.
Camille McPhee Fell Under the Bus ... Page 12