Roger Mantis

by Tom Alan Brosz

  “Are you and Mom coming to the movie too?” he asked. Roger didn’t usually think much of his parents coming along to movies with his friends, but Roger and his friends would be able to sit away from his parents, so it’d be okay.

  “Not today, son,” said his father, smiling. “I’ll pick you up after.”

  Roger suddenly realized that he, the Giant Mantis, had been worried about his parents embarrassing him at the movies! His mother started to ask Roger what he wanted for lunch but wound up asking what he was laughing about instead.

  The back seat of the station wagon was very crowded with Jerry and Marlene squeezed on either side of Roger’s front end. At the theater, they waited to buy tickets out of the rain under the theater marquee. A few kids came over to tell him they liked his mascot show.

  Jerry started chanting, “Roger! Roger!” trying to get the rest of the kids going.

  “Jeez, Jerry, not now!” said Roger. “Let’s just get the tickets.”

  “Wait’ll that new Star Wars movie comes out in a few weeks,” said Jerry, as they headed into the theater. “That one’s going to be really cool.”

  “You think anything with spaceships is cool,” said Marlene. “It’ll probably make about fifty dollars.”

  Jerry and Marlene got their usual popcorn and candy, but Roger bought four hot dogs, which he ate without the buns. They sat in the back, like Roger had in church. The movie was pretty good, and Roger realized that, like in church, almost nobody in the theater paid much attention to him. It was hard to believe he’d only been like this for eight days, and everyone seemed to think it was almost normal already.

  It was still raining when the movie ended although the lightning and thunder had faded into the distance. Roger and his friends waited under the marquee for Dr. McGillicutty to pick them up.

  “Hey,” said Roger, turning to Marlene. “I just realized I forgot my baseball cap today.”

  “I’m not sure you really need it anymore,” said Marlene, smiling. So she’d noticed the general lack of pointed stares and whispering, too.

  “Hey, Roger.” Roger turned to see Barry Wilson coming out of the theater. He didn’t look very happy.

  “Hi, Barry,” said Roger. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing good,” said Barry. “I’m not sure how much longer I can keep a lid on my mom. I hid her camera yesterday, or she would have taken dozens of pictures of your routine. I left the camera somewhere where she might have forgotten it herself, but she’s not an idiot.”

  “Thanks, Barry,” said Roger. “That’s one more I owe you.”

  “Roger,” said Barry. “You know my mom is not going to quit until she’s gotten herself rich and famous for exposing the Mantis Boy to the world.”

  “That’s just nasty,” said Marlene.

  Barry got a defensive look. “Hey, my mom’s not a bad person. It’s not that she wants something bad to happen to Roger or anything. She just sees this as a big chance to help out our family. It’s been kind of rough since Dad died.”

  “Oh,” said Marlene. “Sorry.”

  “Now she’s going to try and get pictures from neighbors who did have cameras.”

  “Whoa,” said Jerry. “Pictures of Roger’s routine? Maybe even flying? Nobody’s going to be fooled by a papier-mâché mantis costume next time!”

  “Jeez,” said Roger. “You think she’s going to send them to that same reporter?”

  “You mean Carter Edison?” said Barry. “I wish! That guy would tell her to go jump in the river. Hopefully every other reporter in the city would too, if he spread the word. You should have heard him ream us out. No, next time she’ll try someone else. She’s even talking about Floyd Bloom.”

  “Who’s Floyd Bloom?” said Marlene.

  “You kidding me?” said Barry. “The National Investigator?”

  “It’s a newspaper published by Bloom,” Jerry told Marlene. “It’s got all this stuff about flying saucers and sasquatches and the like.”

  “Bloom and his paper are famous,” said Roger. “Hey, Jerry, we knew something Marlene didn’t!”

  “Roger,” said Barry. “This really isn’t funny. I don’t know how long it’s going to take her to finally get pictures of you and mail them to Floyd Bloom or somebody like him. I don’t know how long it’ll take for Bloom to look into this. Maybe weeks. Maybe a lot sooner. But he’s not afraid of crazy stories like regular reporters. He’ll send a real investigator, and I hear he’s got some good ones.”

  Barry waved his hand at the town in general. “And there might be other people around here with the same idea. Maybe somebody who already has pictures and sent them to someone.” Barry raised his voice. “Don’t you see? Even though hundreds of people around here are on your side now and want to protect you, it’d only take a few to screw things up. Maybe even just one.”

  “Jeez,” said Roger. His good mood was fading fast.

  “Sorry, Roger,” said Barry, shaking his head. “Looks like my mascot idea kind of sucked after all.”

  “Why?” said Jerry. “It went over big time.”

  “That was just the Centerville game,” said Barry. “Centerville’s practically our next-door neighbor. There aren’t a lot of games left in the season, but teams will be coming from all over this part of the state. And what about away games? How many people will be at those games? How many people like my mom?”

  Marlene’s eyes got wide. “Oh,” she said, very quietly. She looked at Roger. “Roger, I think he’s right.” Then she clenched her fists. “Why on earth didn’t I see that right away? It’s so obvious! Roger’s mascot show would expose him to hundreds of strangers! He might as well go on TV!”

  “So,” said Roger quietly, his antennae drooping. It was pretty clear to him where this had to end up. “Not only do I get kicked out of playing baseball, but I can’t even risk doing the mascot show either.”

  “It was just so cool,” said Jerry, sadly. “And we were all having so much fun. I guess I didn’t really want to find problems with it.”

  Roger’s father pulled up in front of the theater in the station wagon and gave the horn a short beep.

  “See you later, Barry,” said Roger. “And thanks again for trying to help out.”

  “No problem,” said Barry. “I’ll try and let you know if anything else happens. Hope you can figure out something.”

  Roger couldn’t think of any way that could happen, especially if some kind of investigator came out looking for him. He squeezed through the back gate of the station wagon, pushing his front end into the back seat, head and antennae hanging dejectedly.

  Jerry and Marlene got in from the sides without a word.

  “Mr. Horowitz is back at the house,” said his father, “and he’d like to talk to you.”

  “Okay,” said Roger. “I think I need to talk to him, too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I’ll let you know what happens,” Roger told Jerry and Marlene when they dropped them off at their houses.

  The rainy drizzle matched Roger’s mood as he got out of the car before his father drove it into the garage at home.

  Roger’s mother and Mr. Horowitz were waiting for them in the living room, sipping cups of coffee.

  “Good afternoon, Roger,” said Mr. Horowitz. “Bill.”

  “Hello,” said Roger. “What’s going on?”

  “Mr. Horowitz needs to talk to you about your show,” said his mother, going over to pat Roger on the arm. “He and your father were at a town meeting this afternoon.”

  “I actually arranged it,” said Mr. Horowitz. “Pulled a couple of strings to get the big wheels in on a Sunday. The mayor was there, the sheriff, and the editor of the paper, too.”

  “What was the meeting for?” asked Roger.

  “After your spectacular show at the game yesterday,” said Mr. Horowitz, “I realized that your public presence may be getting out of hand. I wanted to communicate to as many loca
l officials as possible that you and your family were counting on them keeping your profile low. The good news is that everyone agreed, including the newspaper editor, who was my major worry. Even some representatives from Centerville were there and said we could count on them, too.”

  Mr. Horowitz sighed. “That was the good news. The bad news involves your mascot activities.”

  “Yeah,” said Roger glumly. “I can’t do it anymore. I probably shouldn’t have done it even once.”

  Mr. Horowitz looked at him in surprise. “What? How did you know?”

  “Me and my friends sort of worked that out before Dad picked us up. You see, there’s more bad news … ”

  Roger told them they’d heard a rumor that some investigator from a national radio show might be coming. He didn’t mention Barry’s name.

  “I don’t know who the investigator’s going to be,” said Roger, “But it’ll be somebody, sooner or later. I’m not sure what to do.”

  “This just gets more complicated,” said Mr. Horowitz. He shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, everyone. I was so enthusiastic about integrating Roger into the community. I just couldn’t stand the idea of him having to hide out in … in an attic or something.”

  “We all made the decision,” said Roger’s father. “And we’re not beaten yet. We’ll think of something. I see no need yet to give up and hide Roger away completely.”

  “I agree,” said Mr. Horowitz. “I definitely want him to continue going to school when the break is over. And even if he has to avoid official games with other towns, he can at least still practice with the team. We’ll take precautions. And as for any new reporters coming around, I’ll get in touch with the people from the meeting as soon as I get home and tell them to keep an eye out for any outsiders asking too many questions.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Roger’s father, smiling.

  Mr. Horowitz looked at Roger. “I’m truly sorry about this, Roger. I know how much you liked the mascot idea. But we’ll work through this. I don’t see any reason to panic, just be extra careful for a while.”

  Mr. Horowitz got up and put on his hat. “Let me know if you have any more ideas. All of you. Thank you very much for the coffee, Joan.” Then he left into the gathering darkness.

  Roger called Jerry and Marlene and filled them in. Hanging up the phone, he stared out the kitchen window realizing the rain had finally stopped.

  “I’m going out to the woods for a bit,” he told his parents. “I’ll be back for supper.”

  “You sure you don’t want to stay here and talk or something?” said his father.

  “I need to think,” said Roger. “I’ll be okay.”

  “Don’t go far, son,” said his mother with worry in her voice. “And no flying while it’s still stormy.”

  Roger went outside, and Lou went with him, even though the dog wasn’t fond of the wet ground. Walking across the vacant lot, they followed the path through the woods to the old maple tree. Roger just stood by the tree while Lou snuffled around to find the place that was the least damp.

  I tried, thought Roger miserably. I really tried. He’d found new ways to eat and go to school. He’d figured out how to write and do simple dumb things like use a phone.

  All he really wanted to do was play baseball. He’d busted his butt figuring out how to do that too, how to bat and catch and throw, and then that got taken away. Then he had a chance to be a mascot, to do something else with his team, but now that was gone, too. What was left? Was he just going to end up a freak hiding in a basement anyway?

  Maybe he should just live in the woods and forget about being human at all. He liked the woods, and at least he could still fly at night.

  Roger hung his head. He’d have to go far enough into the wilderness that nobody would see or find him. Nobody, not even his family and best friends.

  He could probably catch and eat an animal if he really had to. Not fawns or nice animals. Some kind of gross animals like rats or something.

  Roger hadn’t cried at all since he had become a mantis. He did now.

  He couldn’t even manage to cry properly. His huge eyes couldn’t shed tears, but his head hung down shaking gently, his antennae drooped, and his spiracles whistled rhythmically as he sobbed.

  The leaves on the maple were still wet from the rain, and drops of water fell on his head and back, making soft tapping noises on his hard shell.

  Lou bumped Roger’s leg, whimpering. Roger raised his head, took one more deep whistling breath, reached out with one lethal spiked arm, and very gently scratched the back of Lou’s head with a claw.

  Lou looked up at him, and his tongue lolled out in his usual doggy grin. Roger remembered his nightmare.

  “No,” he said, quietly but firmly. “Never. Not even a rat.”

  Feeling a little better, he remained motionless as the woods quietly began drying out. His “critter vision” picked out birds as they sang in the trees. Above the trees, the sun, low in the west, broke through gaps in the clouds and lit the sky over Roger’s head in long streaks of light.

  Roger suddenly remembered the spokes of lights on the Ferris wheel. And he remembered all the kids who might not be around now if he had just been another normal kid at the carnival. Julie, Ricky, and the rest. And little Becky Auburn and her friends.

  I saved their lives, he thought. No matter what else happened, that was something very important. More important than baseball, even, and it was something he would always have, no matter what else happened to him.

  A light breeze blew a last few drops of water from the leaves, and they pattered on Roger’s hard shell. Exoskeleton, Roger thought. Marlene would say it’s an exoskeleton.

  He looked down at Lou. “Come on, boy,” he said. “Let’s go home and get some supper.”

  Later, Roger and his family ate a quiet meal of roast beef. Roger didn’t want to talk just yet, and his parents gave him some space, smiling and making the kind of comforting small talk parents use to show their support.

  Roger was helping with the dishes when the doorbell rang. He carefully set the dish down. With his luck it was probably an investigator already!

  “It’s the sheriff,” said his mother from her spot near the living room window. Roger came and looked out too.

  It was dark outside, but Roger saw a black-and-white car parked in front of their house with “Sheriff” written on the side in big golden letters.

  “Aw, jeez,” said Roger. “I hope I’m not in some kind of trouble.” Could this day get any worse?

  His father opened the door to a stocky, gray-haired black man in a khaki uniform. Sheriff Johnson’s clothes were soaked, like he’d been out in the rain for quite a while.

  “Come on in, Kevin,” said Roger’s father. “What’s going on?”

  “Bill,” said the sheriff, “I need to talk to your son. We could use some help.”

  “So could we,” said Roger’s father. “Let’s get you dried off a bit.”

  “Sorry about the mess. It was still raining out in the hills, but it’s stopping. It should be clear pretty soon.”

  In the kitchen, Roger’s mother gave Sheriff Johnson a towel, which he used as Lou gave the sheriff a good sniffing over.

  “Grab a kitchen chair,” said Mrs. McGillicutty. “The wet won’t bother them.” The three adults sat down. Roger, as usual, stood.

  “There might be an emergency out in the hills,” said the sheriff. “Some campers from out of town were supposed to return last night, and they never showed. I just heard about it an hour ago.”

  “Maybe they’re just staying put because of the weather,” said Roger’s father.

  “Maybe,” agreed the sheriff. “But the rain’s been a lot worse up in the mountains. The river near town’s up about three feet, and still rising. That means every stream and tributary back in the hills is probably badly flooded. There’s two families out there, with kids … ” the sheriff took a deep breath. “One o
f the families is my sister’s. My niece Peggy is only six.”

  “Oh,” said Roger’s mother.

  “I can’t make this official yet,” continued the sheriff, “since it’s probably nothing serious. I’d get the horselaugh or worse if I called the county or state for planes and personnel after only one day. I wish to God we had our own resources, a helicopter or something, but we can’t afford things like that.”

  He leaned forward. “Bill, something in my gut tells me they’re in trouble. And if Roger here could, maybe, fly out there and check it out?” The sheriff looked at Roger.

  Roger understood now why the sheriff had come. “I’d like to help, Sheriff Johnson,” he said.

  “The rain’s stopping,” said the sheriff, “but the rivers and streams are going to keep rising for a while. Can you fly in the dark?”

  “Sure!” said Roger. “I’ve done that a lot. I can see really good at night too, especially things like animals.” Roger’s mood started to improve. He was being sent out on a mission, maybe to save some people again! This was something he knew he could do.

  “There’s one thing I need to tell you all before you decide,” said the sheriff. “It’ll probably make you turn me down, but I have to lay it all out.”

  “What’s that?” said Roger’s father warily.

  “These people aren’t from around here, including my relatives. They won’t have seen Roger before, or probably even heard of him yet. If he finds them, and they see him, it could get difficult.”

  “I know what it’s like for people be scared of me,” said Roger. “I won’t let it bother me.”

  The sheriff looked at him. “You don’t understand,” he said. “Some of them will have guns.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Guns? Roger’s antennae drooped as he began rubbing his front claws together nervously.

  “Oh, no,” said his mother. “I won’t have that!” The sheriff looked disappointed but not surprised.

  Roger thought hard. He really wanted to do something to help the sheriff, and it would be really cool to help those campers. Like being sort of a super hero again! If nothing else, Jerry would probably kill him with real bug spray if he wimped out on a mission like this!