“I wish I could be like that,” I said.
“Maybe you need to hang out with me more,” he said. “You never know, all that so-called wisdom might rub off on you.”
When we reached the bottom of Churchill he said, “See you tomorrow night?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Probably.”
But it wasn’t a probably, it was a yes, not just for that night but for the one after that and the one after that and the one after that.
It was a yes to something new.
CHAPTER FOUR
On a random July morning, instead of grabbing a handful of cereal and retreating to my room, I sat with my parents for breakfast. Mom and Dad chatted away. It was nice.
Dad told us about a job he had over in Falconridge. He said the house was open concept with six bedrooms, four bathrooms, two living spaces, a billiards room, and a home theater. He said the homeowners wanted the whole house painted steel grey. He said that he and his crew were only halfway through and it looked horrible.
I said, “Just goes to show, you don’t need walls to live in a prison.”
They knew exactly what I meant. We all loved our closed-plan home.
Mom told us about a kid at school who had made her a thank-you card because she gave bigger helpings than the other lunch ladies. She said, “He taped macaroni noodles to the construction paper because mac and cheese is his favorite.”
I said, “There’s this little girl who hangs around the shop. Maybe she goes to your school. Her name’s Miracle. She’s pretty entertaining.”
Mom spooned some sugar into her coffee. “Miracle Melendez? Cute little thing. Incredibly polite for her age.” I sighed with relief, grateful it was politeness she was known for.
Mom took a sip of her coffee and let out an aaaah. “So,” she said with a grin. “How’s the boyfriend?”
I almost choked on my Honeycombs.
I was going to kill Cam.
“He’s…fine?”
“Fine as in okay?” said Dad. “Or fine as in ‘Damn, that boy is fine’?”
I stood up. “And on that note…”
Mom laughed and caught my hand as I walked by. “Invite him over sometime. We’d love to meet him.”
He’d charm the pants right off them.
“Sure,” I said. “As long as Dad doesn’t talk.”
Dad zipped his lips.
Mom’s hand felt warm in mine.
As I walked upstairs I decided that Honeycombs tasted better from a bowl.
* * *
When I arrived at work, Miracle was doing a dance routine for the customers. Mr. Chen cheered her along.
“Don’t encourage her,” I said. “She thinks she’s going to be famous.”
He looked me up and down. “You always did strike me as a Negative Nellie.”
I preened my feathers. “I prefer Pessimistic Poppy, thank you very much.”
“Everyone should be allowed to dream,” he said. “I came to Canada with twenty dollars in my pocket. Now look at me! I singlehandedly run a successful business! And I’m the president of the Downtown Business Association.”
I’d never thought of him that way before. As someone who’d come from somewhere else, who had to start over. To me he was Mr. Chen, successful local businessman, pillar of the community, crotchety old man.
I put on my costume and went outside. I hopped and I skipped and I jumped. I shimmy-shimmy-kicked and I wiggled my butt. I even attempted a pirouette.
Twenty dollars. That’s what he had. Twenty bucks to his name. He’d built a business from scratch, all on his own. The least I could do was promote it.
I wondered for the first time about his private life. Did he have a wife? Kids? I knew nothing about him. I felt bad about that. Maybe I needed to make more connections with the people around me. After all, wasn’t that what Thumper said it was all about?
A car full of teenagers drove by and one of them threw an empty beer bottle at my head.
It was hard being a chicken.
Before my shift ended Miracle told me that it was Lewis’s birthday. I wanted to get him a little something but didn’t know what. It was the connection thing again. I needed to work on that.
After work I went to the nicer part of downtown. In a high-end skateboard shop I found the perfect gift—a Converse high-top keychain.
I made a point of walking by Bliss before heading home. I looked in the window to see Cam, not sweeping the floors as I had expected but sitting in a chair getting a head massage. The person giving it looked to be in his early thirties. He was a beefy guy with slicked-back hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a fitted white T-shirt and blue jeans and his arms were covered with tattoos. I had a bad feeling it was Fabian.
It was 7:25. Cam would be off soon. I sat at a bus stop and waited.
At 7:38 he strutted toward me in his signature runway-stomp style.
“Next time you want to spy on me, Pops, you might want to ditch the giant chicken costume.”
“I was in the area,” I said.
He started down the sidewalk. “Yeah. Right.”
I waddled beside him. “So. How was the head massage?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Poppy. How else am I going to learn the ropes?”
“I’m worried about you, Cam.”
“I have a job,” he said. “A nice boss. Why do you see negativity in everything?”
I was surprised by the wobble in my voice. “Because I’m a chicken,” I said. “A big scaredy-cat chicken.”
He stopped walking and turned to face me. “Come here, Pops.”
He opened his arms extra wide. I walked into them and breathed in his goodness.
“Did you know,” I said, wrapping my wings around him, “that when you went to boxing camp when we were ten, I went to your closet and stuck my nose on all of your shirts?”
“Good God, Poppy. What is wrong with you?”
“It was because you have a smell. Everyone does. And yours is nice. I wanted you with me, so I breathed you in as much as I could.”
“Oh, Pops,” he said. “I’ll always be with you. Even when I’m not.”
I smiled. As if everything was okay. But Cam knew better.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked.
“Bad things happening.”
“Good things happen too, Popsicle.”
“Yes,” I said. “But the bad always outweighs the good.”
“Did anything bad happen today?” he asked.
“I got hit in the head with a beer bottle.”
“Anything else?”
Fabian’s creepy hands were all over your head.
“Not really.”
“Anything good happen?” he asked.
I thought for a moment. “I had breakfast with Mom and Dad. That was kind of nice.”
“Anything else?”
“Mr. Chen actually motivated me instead of berating me. Oh, and I bought a birthday present for one of my friends from the bridge.”
Cam held up one finger with his left hand, four with his right. “Looks to me like the good is outweighing the bad.”
I pointed to his right hand. “That should be three.”
“No,” he said. “Four. Reddit took down ISeeFatPeople today.”
I grinned. “Really?”
He nodded. “It was free speech versus hate speech for a while there, but in the end they decided it violated their new anti-harassment policy.”
“Well, duh,” I said.
We walked wing in arm the rest of the way. We didn’t separate until we got to the landing.
“Later, Scaredy-Cat Chicken.”
I went to my room and went online.
The Photo was gone.
I didn’t feel scared anymore.
CHAPTER FIVE
There was a balloon bouquet under the bridge but the mood was gloomy and dark.
Buck greeted me with a kiss.
“Hello, my little chicken nugget.”
He reeked of alcoh
ol.
I looked to Lewis.
“Ignore him. He’s drunk.”
Buck reached out, poked my stomach. “What’s wrong, Pillsbury? Cat got your tongue?”
My insides shook.
“You were supposed to giggle,” said Buck. “The Pillsbury Doughboy giggles when he’s poked in his wibbly-wobbly belly.”
“It’s the alcohol talking,” said Thumper. “Don’t take it to heart.”
“He’ll go back to normal soon,” said Miracle. “He always does.”
Lewis sat near the fire. “Come sit with me, Poppy.”
“No,” said Buck. “She’ll sit with me.”
Lewis held out his hand. I took it.
My voice quivered. “What’s happening right now?”
“He goes on a bender sometimes,” said Lewis. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back to his normal annoying self in a few days.”
Buck almost fell into the fire trying to sit next to it. “Hey, Poppy. Why did the chicken cross the road?”
My shock quickly turned to anger.
“I don’t know,” I said. “To punch its boyfriend in the face?”
“No,” he said. “To get to the udder side.”
“I think you mean cow,” said Miracle. “Why did the cow cross the road?”
“How am I supposed to know?” he said. “Do I look like a fucking shepherd?”
Lewis stood up. “Watch your mouth, Buck.”
Buck laughed. “Or what?”
“Or I’ll punch your face in.”
“You probably could,” said Buck. “You look pretty strong, considering.”
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lewis took a step forward. “It means he’s an asshole.”
I tugged on his hand. “Sit down, Lewis. He’s not worth it.”
Buck stumbled off to his sleeping bag. I was glad.
Miracle gave Lewis a large piece of poster board folded in half. “It’s the world’s biggest birthday card,” she said. “And I made it!”
Every inch was covered in colored balloons.
“Thanks, Miracle. I love it.”
Thumper passed him a Folgers coffee can. Lewis peeled back the rubber lid and looked inside.
“It’s a little over four hundred dollars,” said Thumper. “To help get you and your dad to Toronto for the operation.”
Lewis’s eyes filled with tears. “How did you raise this?”
“I asked some local business owners for donations. Mr. Chen was very generous. I panhandled a bit too. Some kind soul put in a hundred-dollar bill.”
“And I added three dollars and forty-five cents,” said Miracle.
Lewis stared into the can. I didn’t recognize his voice for the shaking. “My dad’s been saving for so long,” he said. “For the train fares, for the accommodation during the recovery. This will really help.”
I was happy for Lewis but confused too. If Lewis’s dad was terminal I couldn’t see how an operation would save him.
Miracle squeezed in between Lewis and me. She had three long skewers and a bag of marshmallows. “Mama said we should celebrate.”
Thumper opened his bible. “‘If we are lucky, we’ll all experience a rebirth. Be it physical or emotional. Or both.’”
Sometimes Thumper’s bible really confused me.
We sat around the fire telling jokes. I tried to relax but my heart was still stinging from the Doughboy comment.
Buck stared at me from across the platform. He picked up his camera and took a picture. I said, “Don’t you have a home to go to?” It was a mean thing to say to a homeless person but I figured he deserved it. He responded by aiming the camera at Lewis. “Hey, Wooden Boy. Say cheese.”
Lewis tensed up beside me. I reached out, covered his fist with my hand, rubbing my thumb across his Pinocchio tattoo.
Miracle hopped up and struck a pose. “Gorgonzola!”
Buck took the shot, then passed her the camera. “Now you take one of me.”
He took a moment to get in position. “Look familiar, Poppy?”
All at once he crushed me.
“All I need is a hamburger,” he said. “And maybe that dishrag you’re wearing on your head.”
The others looked confused.
I stood up. “You’re horrible, Buck.”
I turned to go.
“Poppy,” said Lewis. “Wait.”
But I didn’t wait. I ran. Down by the river and through a tangle of bushes. I ran until I came to a clearing. There I sat, shaking.
He ate footballs and eyeballs. He shared his camera and had oodles of charm.
I lay back on the ground and stared at the sky.
I heard rustling, hoped it was a bear. I hoped it would eat me. But it wasn’t a bear—it was Thumper, struggling to get through the shrubbery.
He stood above me, winded.
“You were wrong,” I said. “Alcohol can’t talk. Only wankers can. And plonkers and pillocks and tossers and prats.” I sat up. “I told him something and he threw it back in my face.”
Thumper eased himself down next to me and picked a twig out of my hair.
“Look at me,” I said. “I’m a mess.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Moses was a basket case too.”
I laughed until the stars blurred.
He put his arm around me and I sobbed into his leather vest.
“Just when I thought that good outweighed bad,” I said, “Buck had to go and tip the scales.”
He wiped a tear off my cheek with one of his bony fingers. “A wise man once said, ‘The battle line between good and evil runs through the heart of every man.’”
“If that’s the case, Buck’s losing the war.”
Thumper smiled. “It’s not always easy, you know, getting to the other side.”
“Don’t I know it,” I said. “I’m a chicken, remember? Apparently it’s my main goal.”
He laughed. “Well, just remember: Obstacles do not block the path. They are the path.”
I rolled my eyes. “Great.”
He patted my hand. “Let’s go back, Poppy.”
“You go,” I said. “I’m staying here.”
“Not at this time of night you’re not. It’s dangerous.”
I helped him up and we headed back through the bushes together.
I stumbled over a rock. He grabbed my arm. We walked the rest of the way like that, him thinking he was supporting me when it was me who was supporting him.
When Buck saw me he opened his arms. “I knew you’d come back.”
“I came back,” I said, “because Thumper said it was dangerous.”
Buck laughed. “He should know. Have a google of those letters on his arm.”
I looked at Thumper. He looked away.
Lewis stood up. “Need a walking buddy?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
He settled Thumper next to Miracle. “I’ll be back for her soon.”
Thumper laid a protective hand on Miracle’s shoulder as she slept.
He was the loveliest man I’d ever met.
Lewis and I walked up the embankment. When we got to the top I showed him the photo on my phone.
“That’s beautiful,” he said.
“Someone posted it on a subreddit called ISeeFatPeople,” I said. “They photoshopped a burger in my hand.”
“That’s horrible,” he said.
“Buck thought it was hysterical.”
“Buck’s an asshole.”
We walked down Fifth Street toward Elgin.
“The whole thing,” I said. “It’s changed my outlook on life. People really suck.”
He bumped his shoulder gently into mine. “Not all people.”
We walked past the shops on Elgin. The light above Chen Chicken was on. I wondered what Mr. Chen was doing. Probably thinking up insults for me. More likely, though, he was catching up on the paperwork he never got to during the day.
“I’m sorry about Buck,” I said. “He ruin
ed your birthday.”
Lewis shrugged. “I care more about how he hurt you.”
“Wow,” I said. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, my first impression kind of sucked. That whole ‘you don’t look homeless’ thing didn’t go down too well.”
Lewis pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket.
“This kind of won me over.”
It was the note I’d put in the snub tub.
I smiled. “I only said that I liked the way you cuffed your Levi’s over your Chuck Taylors.”
When we got to the railway tracks he said, “You can ask if you want. I don’t mind.”
“Ask what?”
“What the operation is for.”
“I figured it was for your dad.”
He smiled. “I wish.”
“So who’s it for?”
He stopped walking. “Me.”
My heart sunk. “Are you sick?”
“Ha! Yeah. Sick of being trapped in the wrong body.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked me in the eye. “I’m hoping, someday, to get bottom surgery.”
“What, like butt implants?”
He laughed. “No.”
I remembered Thumper’s words about rebirth.
“Oh,” I said. “I get it.”
“Surprised?”
“A bit.”
I looked at his muscular chest. “So I guess you’ve had top surgery already?”
“Last year. Want to see?”
I nodded.
He pulled me into the light of a lamppost and lifted his shirt.
“It looks amazing.”
“I was on testosterone for all of tenth grade,” he said. “And I work out a lot.”
“I think you’re very brave,” I said.
He shrugged. “It wasn’t a choice. It’s who I’m meant to be.”
“So what was your name before?” I asked.
He cringed. “That’s kind of a rude question.”
“Is it?” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s just…it’s so irrelevant, you know? I’m Lewis now. That’s what matters.”
I thought about that for a few seconds.
“I can see that,” I said. “It’d be like if your dog died and you got a new one and everyone was like, ‘Hey, this dog sucks, your old one was way better.’”
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