Kristen Chandler

by Boys; Other Things That Might Kill Me (v5) Wolves

  After a minute he says, “Do you like this sort of thing?” “No,” I say. “But it gives me and my dad something to talk about.”

  “You talk about killing people?”

  “He was a trial attorney before he moved here. It’s like watching football with an old jock.”

  Virgil drags his wet hair back with his fingers. If I didn’t know better I’d think he was nervous. He says, “Can you come up here? I can’t talk to the top of your head.”

  There isn’t room on the couch for both of us. When I sit down I’m sandwiched in so tight I have to twist into his side to face him. His clothes are wet and cold.

  He looks into my eyes and says, “I really love my mom.”

  “That’s nice. . . .” I say, totally grossed out.

  He sighs. “But this isn’t working.”

  “What isn’t working?”

  “Trying to make just her happy. I want to make everybody happy.”

  “Everybody?” I say. “That’s a whole lot of happy.”

  He looks at the floor and then takes my hand. He rubs my palm and fingers with his thumbs. It’s weird but I’m a cat so I really, really, like it. I don’t talk because I know it would come out meow.

  Finally after my hand is about to fall off from happiness, Virgil looks up and kisses me. He touches my shoulder. And then I scoot up out of the torture couch halfway into his lap. He puts his arms around me. His shirt is soaking. A shiver runs up his back. We seem to have a thing about weather and making out.

  I say, “How long were you standing out there?”

  “I don’t know. Forty-three minutes.”

  “You must be freezing. And a stalker.”

  “No, I’m fine. But this couch is impressively uncomfortable.”

  “My dad doesn’t believe in furniture that encourages laziness.”

  “Smart guy,” says Virgil, and pulls me to the floor. We start kissing again, but Virgil keeps shivering. I go to my dad’s bedroom and get Virgil a T-shirt and then to my bedroom and get a blanket. He changes his shirt in front of me. His skin is paper white, but for a guy who never picks up anything heavier than a tripod, he’s ripped.

  “Holy smack,” I say.

  “What?”

  “You have, like . . . muscles.”

  He grins stupidly. “I do Tai Chi.”

  “Yeah,” I say, wishing I hadn’t given him an extra shirt.

  “I used to be big into Tae Kwon Do and that stuff,” he says.

  “Were you good?” I say, fascinated.

  “I got my brown belt when I was thirteen.”

  “Why’d you stop?”

  “Umm . . . I shattered my best friend’s nose at a tournament.”

  Virgil’s face is quiet, gentle. I can’t see a trace of what he’s talking about. “But it was an accident, right?”

  “No . . . I was hurt and I was angry. I wanted to keep hitting him after he went down. The blood just made me angrier.”

  “Wow,” I say. “You don’t seem like that.”

  “I think everybody’s like that. You just have to push the right buttons.” He smiles weakly and a shiver runs through him. “So I don’t push those buttons anymore.”

  I put my hand on his arm. “You’re ice.”

  “Do you mind if I try on your blanket?”

  He gets under the blanket and pulls it up around his wet head. “Nope. Still cold.”

  I get under the blanket with him. Nothing crazy happens. It doesn’t have to. Just being next to Virgil, having him want to be next to me, makes me feel delirious. Of course the whole kissing thing is good, too. It takes a while, but eventually he stops shivering.

  I don’t hear my dad and Eloise come in until the front door closes. I peek out of the blanket. They’re standing in front of us.

  “Hey,” says Virgil calmly.

  Dad says, “What the hell do you think you’re doing with my daughter?”

  Eloise steps between us and Dad. “Looks like pretty much the same thing we’ve been doing.”

  I’ve never seen my dad look so furious.

  “It’s not the same and you know it, Eloise.”

  “I think you’re overreacting.”

  “Overreacting?” repeats Dad.

  Eloise says, “Virgil, do you have your clothes on under there?”

  “Sort of,” says Virgil. “I borrowed Mr. Carson’s shirt.”

  “How about you, honey?” says Eloise.

  I nod my head and stand up. I realize too late what I’m wearing. I shuffle in my Elmo slippers. Virgil stands up, too.

  “Wow, trains,” says Eloise, laughing. “I need to get you some new things.”

  “Do you think this is funny?” says Dad.

  “Samuel, of course I do. It is funny.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Virgil, we’d better go,” says Eloise.

  “Yes, I think you’d better,” says Dad. “And I want my shirt back.”

  Virgil looks at me sadly and then strips off the shirt. I’m so mortified at this point I’m covered in welts. Virgil, on the other hand, is bizarrely dignified for someone half naked, and just busted by a girl’s father. He’s like Gandhi with hormones.

  Virgil folds the shirt neatly and puts it in Dad’s hand. He looks at me again and then at my dad and says, “I’m sorry.”

  “Life’s too short,” says Eloise, and walks out the door into the cold, dragging her shirtless son behind her.

  WOLF NOTES

  Elk Incognito

  The elk herds are down at the elk Reserve in Wyoming. Which has people wondering if the wolves have eaten them all. Some scientists say the drought is changing the elk’s migration habits. I personally think there’s a big elk party somewhere and the humans just aren’t invited.

  16

  MAN OF MYSTERY

  MONDAY VIRGIL COMES to school in a good mood, which really hacks me off since I’m been scooting around on my belly thinking about how I’m grounded from him for the rest of my life. Plus Baby has assigned me to do a story on creative dating. Holy smack. In this town creative dating is wiping the dog hair off the seat before your date climbs in your truck.

  “You’re chipper,” I say.

  “I’m working on something, a new project.”

  I wonder if Baby asked him to write about dating, too. Maybe he can talk about being busted warming up with your date under a blanket. Not creative, but has a recognizable story line. I say, “What kind of a project?”

  “A you’ll-have-to-wait-and-see project.”

  “Are you building my dad a new brain? I’d like that.”

  Baby waddles over and taps my desk with her pen. She’s in a foul mood this morning. “I didn’t say you should start your date right now, KJ. Work, please.”

  Virgil gives Baby the kilowatt smile. “That’s a great dress, Mrs. Brady. Blue’s a beautiful color on you.”

  She smiles back. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

  Virgil waits until Baby goes back to her desk and whispers, “Dennis is helping me. And Aunt Jean.”

  I pretend to be writing my story, when actually I’m writing my name backward. It relaxes me. “No offense, but I don’t really want Dennis and your aunt Jean working on my dad’s brain. He’s already angry Spock.”

  “Your dad is just trying to protect you. You two are big on safety.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m a man of mystery,” says Virgil.

  He’s got that right, but what man isn’t?

  All week long Virgil keeps his secret with Dennis. And since I’m grounded, I can’t see him or call him after school. Friday he misses class altogether. I’m experiencing Virgil withdrawal.

  During lunch break Kenner bumps me in the hall. “You part of Vergee’s secret mission, too?”

  “What?” I say.

  “Dennis semi-squealed. Virgil and Dennis are doing something—besides each other, I mean.”

  Great. Even Kenner knows more about th
is than I do.

  “Got me,” I say.

  “Yeah,” says Kenner. “I heard about that, too.”

  I hurry out of the hall so I can blush in the bathroom. I should never have told Sondra and Addie. I hate small towns.

  After school I head over to the bookstore to see if they’ve got the book I ordered for my dad for Christmas. They don’t, and Eloise is in my spot.

  “What’s up?” I say. We haven’t talked since the blanket incident.

  She raises an eyebrow. Apparently Virgil gets that from her. “You tell me, hon.”

  “What can I say? My dad’s crazy.”

  She sighs and puts her coffee cup down. “He’s not crazy. He’s protective. If I had a beautiful girl like you in my house I’d be protective, too. I should be more protective of Virgil, but he’s seems to be turning out all right. At least I think so anyway. How’s he doing in school?”

  “Why?” I say. Mostly I want to know why she’s asking me.

  “Because all of the sudden he and Dennis are doing an awful lot of homework. It’s not like him. Even Aunt Jean seems to be in on it. But nobody wants to say what’s going on. You don’t know, I guess?”

  “It’s a mystery,” I say, doing an impression of Virgil.

  “My grant advisor is in Bozeman this week so this isn’t a real good time for mysteries. I’ll get it out of Jean when I get back. That boy has pulled a few stunts in his life. I feel stunt in the air and I don’t like it.”

  She looks me over, from my boots to my beanie, and smiles. It makes me feel as warm as coffee. I wonder if my mom would have looked at me like that. She says, “Virgil told me some kids are giving you a hard time about this wolf column.”

  “No big deal.”

  “Hang in there, kid. If you don’t have a few enemies, you aren’t doing your job.”

  Ode to West End Christmas Decor

  At Christmastime we freeze and quake.

  Homemade presents oft we make.

  We deck our halls, but not with holly.

  We find that moose heads look more jolly!

  17

  THE CHRISTMAS STROLL

  EVERY YEAR THAT I can remember I have gathered with my town on the second weekend in December to light the town tree, share some cider and doughnuts, and have a parade. It’s always below freezing, so it’s kind of a celebration of who we are. If you’re standing on that street corner with a red face, stoically freezing your fingers off, you’re a resident. Everyone’s invited. Everyone belongs.

  I meet Sondra and Addie in front of Mr. Muir’s Sticks and Stones store. He has a festive wreath of knives in one window and new sculpture of a wolf pack playing in the snow in the other.

  “I love this parade,” says Addie with a sigh. “It always makes me feel like singing Christmas carols.”

  “Oh, me, too,” says Sondra. “Deck the halls with gratuitous consumption. Fa la la la la.”

  Addie pouts.

  “Sondra,” I say in my jolly voice, “how about some peace on earth tonight?”

  Three blocks of Canyon Street are decked out for the festivities with red flashing lights, plastic gold stars, and tinsel streamers. Everything sparkles in the falling snow.

  “They wouldn’t accept my entry,” says Sondra.

  “What was it?” says Addie.

  “I was going to call it ‘Rudolph’s Revenge.’” Sondra rubs her nose.

  “Festive,” I say.

  Sondra nods at me enthusiastically. “I was going to take a blow-up doll in fatigues and tie it onto the top of my mom’s truck and then drive up and down the street dressed up like a drunk elk.”

  Addie whines, “Oh, Sondra!”

  I say, “I’m really surprised they didn’t let you do it.”

  Sondra says, “I even made papier-mâché antlers.”

  “And I’ll bet you looked great,” says Addie.

  Sondra nods seriously. “This whole town is full of fascists.”

  Everybody migrates to the park. It’s about twenty below and dropping fast. A thin mist of snow is falling. People are pulling out their flasks and six-packs to keep themselves warm. It’s cold even for West End and people are drinking hard.

  We are all waiting for the mayor. He and his wife dress up as Mr. and Mrs. Claus. The party can’t start until “Santa” makes his big entrance on a horse-drawn sleigh and throws a premade snowball that is supposed to hit the tree and magically turn on its lights. The problem is that our mayor tends to warm up with a little too much Season’s Greetings before the show. I hope his aim is better than last year.

  We don’t talk now because we have scarves over our faces, and it’s too cold to move anything that’s optional. Finally we hear the jingle of the sleigh, and the frozen people standing next to me cheer out of sheer relief. Parents take a layer off their kids’ faces so they can see the sleigh, and a few little kids start to cry.

  Addie starts singing “Here Comes Santa Claus.” Sondra and I join her, even though our lips are frozen. Mr. Ashton makes a speech about “the joy of living with people you know and love,” then throws the magic snowball. He misses the tree but everybody cheers, and they turn the tree on anyway.

  I see Eloise across the park with Aunt Jean. I wave and they wave back. No sign of Virgil. I can’t believe Eloise got Aunt Jean out in this cold. I wonder if Eloise is trying to kill Jean for her money after all.

  We mill back over to Canyon Street, and two trucks covered in Christmas lights start off the parade. One has a sign on the grille that says THE SANTA CLAWS PARADE, and one behind it says BEARRY CHRISTMAS. I see Dad up the street with some of his hunting buddies. I wave, and they start making their way toward us.

  A hay wagon full of frozen Presbyterians comes next in the parade, singing “O Come All Ye Faithful.” They hurl frozen saltwater taffy bullets into the crowd. The kids not maimed by this treat dive into the snow up to their eyeballs to dig out the candy.

  I look down the street, and I see Eloise and Aunt Jean walking toward us. Aunt Jean is hunched over like a candy cane. I look up the street and see my dad coming toward me from the other direction. Even though I’m the one grounded from Virgil, it’s really our parents who aren’t speaking.

  “This is awkward,” I mumble.

  “I know. Did you see how they’re looking at me?” says Addie.

  I look across the street and see Kenner’s drones standing together shooting hate stares at Addie. “Where’s Kenner?”

  “He’s in the parade, I think. Look at them. I wish those idiots would just leave me alone,” says Addie. “I can date other guys if I want to.”

  “Who are you dating?” says Sondra in an excited voice.

  “Oh . . . I didn’t tell you? William Martin. He’s helping with the parade right now, but we’re going out after it’s over.”

  “His brother?” says Sondra. “You’re going out with Kenner’s brother? He’s like twenty.”

  “Yep,” says Addie. “But it’s all a mess out there today.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I say. “I can’t imagine why.” I think of the two brothers fighting that day in the forest. William’s good to look at, but Addie must be out of her mind.

  “It’s not me. Another wolf came right down into their yard last night. Right down to the pens. He said it wasn’t even afraid of him until he fired a shot.”

  “I don’t believe it,” I say. “I didn’t read about that on any of the wolf pages today.”

  Addie sighs. “KJ, geez. Do you think ranchers report that kind of stuff?”

  I can’t think clearly to answer. Eloise and my dad are closing in. Eloise gets to me first. She locks her arms around me and says, “Have you seen Virgil anywhere? I haven’t seen him all day. And Aunt Jean here is a big liar.”

  Aunt Jean smiles triumphantly. “Yes I am.”

  “I haven’t seen him,” I say as I feel Dad step to my side.

  “Hello, Samuel,” says Eloise.

  “Hello, Eloise, Jean,” says Dad. “How are you?”


  At least Dad is a gentleman. Which is more than I can say for Kenner’s friends, who are currently giving Addie the finger from across the street.

  “Oh, can you believe this?” says Addie. “So immature.”

  Eloise looks curiously at Addie but continues, “We’re fine, thank you, Samuel. We’re looking for Virgil.”

  “Haven’t seen him since school got out yesterday,” I say. My dad looks at me suspiciously. “He was with Dennis.”

  Sondra nods. “They were completely not in school today.”

  Addie says, “Oh, who even cares what they do?”

  Eloise shoots Addie another perturbed look. “Well, I do. I’m telling you anything can happen with this kid.”

  “You seem kind of serious, Eloise,” says Dad. He may be a gentlemen, but that doesn’t mean he’s above sarcasm.

  Aunt Jean says, “He should be along pretty soon.”

  “He’s in the parade?” says Eloise. “Oh, heaven helps us.”

  Aunt Jean smiles. “He’s using my Cadillac. Pulls like an ox.”

  “Oh, look, it’s Stewie’s family,” says Addie, pointing to the parade.

  In front of us there is a flatbed trailer with the manger scene. Stewie is sporting a shepherd’s tunic, a wool blanket pulled over his head, and ski mask. Nestled down in the hay, his sister is wearing an enormous parka draped in a lacy shawl. Jesus is a doll so he only has on a towel. Stewie’s dad is driving their hotel truck. On the side of the trailer there’s a banner that says THERE’S ALWAYSROOM AT OUR INN.

  Four more “floats” come and go. I can hardly wait to bolt from Dad and Eloise.

  I don’t really see the last scheduled “float” until it’s right in front of us. I’m too busy watching Jeff Dewey’s dog relieve himself in the street. Then I hear whistles and look up to see a truck full of men in camouflage, holding guns.

  On the side of the truck are banners that say WHEREARE THEELK? Men are holding signs that say WOLVES ATE MY SHEEP. WHAT SHOULD I EAT? PUT WOLVES BACK IN WASHINGTON WHERE THEY BELONG! SAVE A RANCHER. KILL A WOLF. And THE ONLY GOOD WOLF IS A DEAD ONE.