Strays Like Us

by Cecilia Galante

  I shrugged. “Sure.”

  It took us less than a minute to walk back around to the shed, but it was one of the most awkward moments of my life. With every step, I could feel Lardvark’s disappointment getting heavier and heavier. I couldn’t really blame her. She’d just skipped school and ridden her unicycle all the way over here to spend the day with me, and I’d told her she had to leave. But what choice did I have? I had to do the work Margery had left me. I just wished I didn’t feel so terrible.

  It was hard to tell whether I gasped first or screamed. Either way, both were loud and full of terror.

  Because Toby was nowhere to be seen.

  And Margery’s workshop looked as if someone had taken a sledgehammer and smashed it to pieces.

  I didn’t know where to look first. The worktable lay on its side, and the leg where Toby had been tied was completely torn off. Screws and bolts and doorknobs, wrenches and springs and even a few rusted pie tins, were scattered across the floor. Worst of all, though, was Margery’s sculpture in the corner. The blue tarp had been torn off and the statue itself—whatever it was—had been knocked over. The clock in the middle was smashed to bits, and the large silver ladle was lying in a corner.

  “Oh my God.” I could barely get my voice out as I brought my hands to my mouth. “Ohmygodohmygod.”

  “Holy ravioli.” Lardvark glanced around nervously. “Do you think Toby did all of this? Where is he?”

  I didn’t answer her. Instead, I moved over to the table. “Help me with this, will you?” I lifted one side of it with two hands.

  Lardvark hoisted the other end. The table was ridiculously heavy, but she was strong, and in a few minutes, we had it right side up again. It was wobbly minus the leg, but it was up. I glanced around the room, trying to figure out what to do next.

  And then I saw something move under the blue tarp. I looked over at Lardvark, who was still holding one end of the table. “Can you hold it like that for a minute?” I eyed the blue tarp as it moved a second time. “I think I might know where the other leg to this table is.”

  I walked over to the corner, so angry I could have spit. Forget the work Margery had left for me to complete, and which for a second time I would not be able to finish. Forget even that Lardvark was here, uninvited again, probably without the permission of her parents. Now the rest of my day was going to be spent cleaning up this mess, thanks to one crazy dog. And it wasn’t like it was going to take me a few extra minutes. I had to straighten things up so that it looked as though nothing had happened. It was going to take some serious effort. And time. I didn’t know if I had either.

  “Toby?”

  A whining sound drifted out from under the tarp. “Toby, what did you do?” I lifted the tarp and stared at him. The rope was still around his neck, and at the other end, just as I’d thought, was the table leg. He had pulled and yanked and strained at that thing until the entire structure had given way. Despite the dreadfulness of the situation, I kind of had to hand it to him, too. It couldn’t have been easy, taking something that big all the way down, especially since he was so small.

  And then I noticed the big brown paper bag Lardvark had brought with her. It was torn to shreds, scattered around Toby like ragged postcards.

  “What was in your bag?” I asked slowly.

  “What?”

  “Your bag.” I turned around, glaring at Lardvark. “What was in it?”

  “Oh no.” Lardvark’s face fell as the table sagged in her hands.

  I leaned down and picked up a torn scrap of the bag. “What was in it?”

  “Salami,” Lardvark whimpered. “And German bologna. To give to Margery. You know, because we took hers last night without asking.”

  I blinked. “And you left a bag full of meat five feet away from a tied-up dog while we went out and got on your stupid unicycle?” I hadn’t meant for my voice to get louder, but by the time I said the word “unicycle,” I was shouting. “How could you be so dumb?”

  Lardvark watched me fearfully, her blue eyes filling with tears. “I—I …” she stammered, shaking her head.

  “HOW?” I yelled.

  Tears spilled out of Lardvark’s eyes. “I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I just am.”

  For some reason, her response made me even angrier. “Give me a real answer!” I pushed my face in close as I yelled. “Say something! Do something!”

  “I can’t!” she whimpered.

  “Yes, you can! Stop being such a wimp all the time and stand up for yourself!” I had the sensation of being outside my body, the way I had when I went flying over the table toward Michelle. It wasn’t me, talking in such a terrible way to Lardvark. It couldn’t be. “The only reason people push you around is because you let them, you know that? Because you’re too much of a baby to tell them to knock it off!” I could hear Toby barking in the background, like he was telling me to stop.

  “Why are you doing this?” Lardvark was sobbing now, her pale, doughy face streaked with tears. “I thought you were different from everyone at school! I thought you were nice!”

  I could feel my breath pushing in and out of my nose as I stared at her. When had I turned into one of those terrible girls at school? And why was I acting like a crazy person toward someone who wanted to be my friend? “I am nice,” I muttered.

  Lardvark made a whimpering sound. “I … I didn’t think about the bag. I was just so excited to show you the unicycle …” Her voice trailed off.

  I lifted my eyes to meet hers. My heart slowed inside my chest. “It was an accident. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Lardvark dabbed at her eyes. “I’m kind of used to it.”

  “You shouldn’t be used to it.” I pushed down a small knob of frustration. “You have to stand up for yourself. Especially with people like Michelle.”

  Lardvark took a deep, shaky breath. “I know,” she said. “But what if I did get in Michelle’s face, and she hauled off and knocked me on my butt? Then what?”

  “Then you stand back up and do it again. People aren’t going to keep knocking you down if you keep getting back up.”

  Lardvark sighed. “You make it sound easy, but it’s not.”

  “I know.” I almost reached out then and touched her hand. Almost. “But you’ve got to start somewhere. You’ve got to at least try.”

  She stared at the floor for a moment and then looked up again. “Please let me stay and help you clean up. It’ll go twice as fast if both of us do it.”

  She had me there. Two pairs of hands would get a lot more work done than one. “Okay.” It took some time, but the two of us managed to shove the leg back in place and hammer it steady. When we were finished, it looked pretty good. Now we just had to get the rest of the place together before Margery got home.

  “Hey,” I said, hanging the hammer back on the wall. “What would you think if I called you Delia from now on? You know, instead of Ardelia?”

  Lardvark stared at me.

  “Just as a nickname,” I said. “If you don’t like it, I’ll—”

  “I love it,” Delia interrupted. “It’s just … no one’s ever called me that before. It’s been Lardvark for so long at school, and Ardelia at home …” Her voice drifted off.

  “Well, it’ll be Delia here,” I said. “At least for me and Toby.”

  She smiled at me then, and her lower lip quivered. I thought about how Toby had nuzzled into the front of me this morning after I’d taken his leash off, and I wondered if this was Delia’s way of saying thank you.

  Once the table was done, I could feel myself start to breathe a little easier. Except for Margery’s mangled sculpture in the corner, things were starting to feel a bit more manageable. And if we did a good enough job, maybe Margery would never know anything had happened at all.

  We knelt on the floor and began sorting screws and nuts and bolts into individually marked coffee cans. For a few long minutes, we worked in silence.

 
“Can I ask you a question?” Delia asked suddenly. “Do you miss Philadelphia? It’s such a cool city. It’s so boring out here.”

  “Things aren’t all that cool in the city.” I scooped my pile of bolts into my hand and poured them into the coffee can. “And I’m just here for a little while.”

  “Oh yeah?” I could hear the disappointment in her voice. “Like, how long?”

  “Just a few more weeks, I think.” I moved the can to the top of the table and started in on the screws.

  “And then you go back to Philadelphia again?”

  “Maybe. My mom’s been talking about going somewhere new. Getting a fresh start.”

  “From what?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said she wants to get a fresh start.” Delia was still hunched over on her knees, sorting through her bolts. “Why?”

  I could feel myself bristle. My life was none of her business. And even if it was (which it wasn’t), why did she need to know? “Not really sure,” I mumbled. “Just a thing she wants to do.”

  Delia nodded. “We moved here to get a fresh start,” she said. “Well, my parents did. I was only five. I was just kind of along for the ride.”

  “What was their fresh start from?” I asked, thinking she might say something like they needed a change of scenery or wanted to build a bigger house. Anyone whose parents went to Germany and brought back a unicycle for their kid had to have money.

  Instead, Delia said, “I had an older brother who drowned. Back when we lived in Ohio. He was fooling around with our dog, Sampson, and they both fell into the pool. My mom and dad didn’t talk for a whole year after it happened. Not to me, not to each other, not to anyone. And then one day, they told me we were moving.” She shrugged. “We came here. I think it was supposed to be their fresh start. My dad bought the iron company. And my mom just keeps decorating the house. But they still don’t talk.” She paused. “I think they tried. To do the fresh start thing. But …” Her voice trailed off. “Well, you know.”

  “It’s pretty quiet in your house, then, huh?”

  Delia shot me a look, as if she wasn’t quite sure if I was making fun of her situation.

  “No, really,” I said hurriedly. “It’s got to be awful.” I wondered if the silence in that house was anything like the silence in the apartment in Philadelphia. Did Delia know what that kind of silence felt like?

  “It’s worse than awful,” she said quietly. “Because they’re there, you know? They’re right there—” She choked on the last word and inhaled quickly. “And they still won’t talk to me. You know, except for the basics. Hi, bye, excuse me. That kind of thing. It’s like I don’t exist.”

  All of a sudden, I felt as though I could see Delia. Like, really see her. Up until that moment, it was as if I’d kind of been talking and listening to her from behind a curtain. And just then, totally without warning, the curtain slid to one side and I could see her standing there for real. She wasn’t just the sad, cream-puffy person I’d thought she was. She was someone completely different. Someone even a little bit like me.

  This time, I did put my hand on Delia’s arm. “You do exist,” I told her. “Okay? And you totally, one hundred percent should be here.”

  Her whole face relaxed. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she said softly.

  “Well, it’s true.” I let go of her arm and went back to work. For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was the clink and ping of the bolts dropping into the can.

  “The same goes for you, you know,” Delia said. “You exist, too, Fred. And you should be here.”

  I didn’t answer right away, and let my fingers linger among the pile of screws I was sorting. I knew Delia was trying to make me feel good, but her words felt … strange. Untrue. I didn’t belong here, and no matter what she said, I never would.

  It was almost noon by the time we got everything sorted again and put back in place. The workshop looked as good as new, or at least as good as it could again after being torn apart.

  “Wow,” Delia said, putting her hands on her hips. “Margery will never know anything happened.”

  I walked over to the sculpture in the corner. “Except for this.” We had picked it up off the floor and set it back on its stand, but it was still horribly mangled. I reached out and fingered something dangling from the middle of it. I wasn’t completely sure, but it looked like part of a watch. Or at least the wristband section. “I don’t even know where to start when it comes to this.”

  “What is it?” Delia cocked her head, looking at it.

  “I’m not sure. It must be something Margery’s been working on.” I sighed. “She’s going to freak.”

  “Why does she have to see it? Let’s just cover it up again,” Delia said. “Maybe we can fix it over the next few days while she’s gone. She’ll never even know what happened.”

  “What do you mean, we can fix it?” I asked. “Delia, you have to go to school. You’re going to get in trouble.”

  “With who?” She lifted her chin a little. “My parents? They don’t care what I do as long as I stay out of their way. Trust me.”

  “The school’ll call them,” I argued. “They’ll tell them you’re skipping. And then—”

  “And then what?” She looked at me defiantly. “You think that hasn’t happened already?”

  “You’ve skipped school before?”

  “Would you want to go to a place every day where people called you Lardvark?” Her blue eyes flashed. “Or where you sit at a desk and wait for the most popular girl in school to tap you on the shoulder just to let you know she’s more important than you?”

  I dropped my eyes.

  “You only have one more day of being suspended,” Delia said. “It’s not like I’m going to skip for a whole week or anything. Just let me come again tomorrow. We can work on this thing.” She nodded toward Margery’s sculpture. “And see how much we can get done. Together.”

  “You could be a lawyer, you know that?” I grinned at her. “You’re really good at arguing.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?” Delia looked embarrassed again.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “That’s a really good thing.”

  I half expected to see the back steps torn out as Delia and I returned to the workshop after lunch, but Toby was just sitting there quietly. He barked as we rounded the corner, and strained on his rope.

  “He really is sweet,” Delia said, watching as I rubbed him around his neck and buried my nose in his clean fur. “You’d think an animal that had been treated so badly would just be mean and horrible.” She shrugged. “I know I would be.”

  I thought about Delia’s situation and how, in some ways, she’d been treated a little bit like Toby, with the most important people in her life barely acknowledging her. “No, you wouldn’t,” I said, untying the leash from the post.

  “You don’t think so?” She held the door open as Toby bounded inside again.

  “Nope.” I shut the door behind us and locked it.

  “That’s nice of you to say.”

  “I’m not trying to be nice. I’m telling you the truth.”

  “But why do you think that?” Delia’s face was so hopeful that it made the back of my throat hurt.

  I shrugged. “You’re tough, Delia. You’ve been through a lot, first with your family, then with all those jerks at school. And you still get up every day and do your thing.” I picked up the candlestick and started on it with the sander. “I think that’s strong.”

  She picked at the skin along one thumb. “I’m pretty wimpy with those kids at school, though.”

  My face flushed as I thought of how terrible I’d been to her earlier. “Not too many people would know how to deal with something like that.”

  “How would you deal with it?”

  “I’m not really sure. All situations are different.”

  “But if you were me,” she pressed, “and Michelle Palmer never ever let you alone,
what would you do? And please don’t say that you would tell a teacher or another adult, because you know that only makes things a thousand times worse.”

  Delia was looking at me steadily. It was a little nerve-racking, mostly because I didn’t want to let her down. But I also didn’t want to steer her in the wrong direction. “I’d have to face Michelle,” I said finally. “I can’t think of any other way someone like that would stop. You’d have to be tough. Really tough. Let her know that you’re finished. That you won’t take it anymore.”

  “But how?”

  I could hear the whimper in her question, and something inside me flared. “By not sounding like that, for starters.”

  “Like what?” Still with the whimper.

  I put the candlestick down. “You can’t sound like you’re begging when you tell someone you’re done being their doormat. You can’t ask. You have to put your foot down, Delia. You have to say, ‘No. More.’ ”

  She looked at her shoes for what seemed like a long time. Then she lifted her head. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “I think you can,” I said. “Actually, I know you can. You have to practice. Just like anything else. Try it. See how it feels.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah, why not?” I put my sander down. “Pretend you’re in science class, and I’m Michelle, and I’m coming over to tap you on the shoulder.”

  “All right.” Delia rolled her eyes as she turned around. “This feels really weird.”

  “I know.” I made my way over to the door. “Just try it anyway. Close your eyes, maybe. Try to really imagine that I’m her.”

  Delia took a deep breath and let it out again. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  Toby had stopped poking around and was standing there, watching us. It was sort of like he knew that we were doing something serious, and he had to be still for it.

  I opened and shut the door to give Delia a signal. Then I walked over and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned her head and looked at me. “Please don’t do that anymore,” she whispered.