“No problem,” I said.
We knocked on Beau’s door. Then the three of us headed down to the pool. I could tell Beau had an instant crush on Iris by the way he walked slumped over. Plus, he did some fancy dives I’d never seen him do before.
It’s harder to tell with girls, but I thought Iris might like him too, because when we played Marco Polo, she always followed Beau’s voice. I didn’t mind too much. I was leaving anyway. Maybe Cora would start bringing Iris over, and she and Beau could hang out together, go to the diner, eat salt.
I was glad that Eric didn’t show up to pick on Beau in front of Iris. But after a while, Beau’s mom came out on the balcony and called down, “Beau, Sweetie! Will you take the boys for a minute? I need a shower!”
Beau didn’t grumble—not even about being called Sweetie in front of a girl. I hated it when my mom called me Honey or Cutie in front of anyone.
Beau hauled himself out of the pool and ran dripping up the stairs. Then he came back down with Marcel wiggling in his arms and Claude skipping along next to him.
Iris said Beau’s brothers were adorable and she thought Beau was a terrific big brother. I could tell she liked that in a person. I guess Beau was right about the chick-magnet thing.
When we were leaving the pool, Beau pulled me aside. I figured he was going to tell me he liked Iris, but he said, “I told His Ugliness about you and Chet Carter.”
“Yeah?”
“He practically peed his pants!” Beau said, laughing. Cackling, actually, all the way back to his apartment. Claude and even baby Marcel joined in the laughter. The three of them sounded slightly insane.
Iris looked puzzled.
“It’s a long story,” I told her.
Back inside Dad’s apartment, Cora had her camera out and was taking pictures of Dad in his cast.
“Take one of me and John!” Iris said, grabbing my arm. We were both still in our bathing suits and shivery from the pool. I could feel the goose bumps on Iris’s arm.
Cora took two pictures. “I’ll send you prints,” she said, and I almost liked her. I pictured Brad and Theo green with envy.
While Iris and I had been down at the pool, Cora had helped Dad take a shower without getting his cast wet. And she’d held the mirror so he could shave sitting down. I never would’ve thought of that. Dad seemed as happy as a clam and Cora was practically purring.
When they said good-bye to each other, Iris whispered to me, “Well, see ya at the wedding, maybe.”
“Yours and Beau’s?”
Iris shoved me and shrieked, “Shut up!” She must’ve liked Beau even more than I’d thought. Then she said, “No, Scarecrow, I meant my aunt and your dad’s wedding! Then we’ll be kin. I’ll call you Cousin Kansas. How’s that?”
“Beats being called Scarecrow and Tin Man,” I said.
“Sorry, Lion.” Iris giggled, darting out the door. At least she hadn’t called me Dorothy.
Beau’s question from the night before had been brewing in my brain long enough. What did I want to do? By the time Iris and Cora left, I knew the answer. So, I just up and asked Dad if he’d like me to come back over my winter break. I-didn’t get all fidgety and hangdog about it. I didn’t beg or anything. I just asked. It wasn’t hard.
“You’d do that?” Dad asked, surprised. “You’d come twice a year?”
“Of course I would,” I answered. “Sure.”
“That would be terrific!” Dad said. “Absolutely terrific!” And I could tell he meant it. We grinned and grinned at each other like two goofs.
“No Rollerblading, though,” I finally said.
Dad laughed. “You’re right. We better stick to hang gliding and bungee jumping.”
I called home to tell my mom to expect me the next day as planned. Jet answered the phone.
“Jet!” I said. “You’re back!”
“Your sister sent up smoke signals summoning me,” he joked. I guess he meant her bonfire on the stove.
“I did not!” Liz squealed in the background. Then she must’ve grabbed the phone. “John?” she said.
“Yep.”
“Jet was camped out in his car in front of the house for so long, I finally took pity on the neighbors, who, needless to say, were getting a little freaked. I let him back on probation.”
“Glad to hear it,” I said. Then I told her I’d be home the next day.
“Good,” Liz said. “Mom’s been in a state, and I couldn’t bear another week of worry patrol on my own! How’s the Phantom’s knee?”
“The knee’s bad, but the Phantom is great,” I said. “He thinks you’re classy, by the way. And remind me to tell you what he said about your Barbie and Ken dolls.”
“Huh?”
“Liz,” I said, “why don’t cannibals eat clowns?”
“Why?” she asked with a giggle ready in her voice. Liz loves jokes, the dumber the better. When I told her the punch line, she burst out laughing. I knew she’d tell it to Jet the second she got off the phone.
I hung up, smiling.
The next morning I helped Dad hop out to the living room. Then I made him some eggs. There was no trace of the mess Beau and I had made in the kitchen. Cora must’ve cleaned it the day before. I almost felt guilty, but then I figured she owed it to me—she’d never paid back my two dollars.
When Dad reached for the TV remote, I snatched it away from him. “Hey!” he said.
Beau appeared at the door with a plate of muffins from his mom.
“My cab’ll be here in forty-five minutes,” I said, hinting that Beau should split.
He got it and did an immediate about-face. “I’ll be back in forty-three,” he said.
“Wait!” I said. “Hey, Dad, how ’bout giving Beau a key, just in case?” I turned to Beau. “That’ll be your what, seventh, besides your own?”
Dad agreed, so I gave Beau mine. If anyone had told me a week ago that I’d be giving Beau the key to my dad’s apartment—or for that matter that I’d be the one to tell Dad to make up with Cora—well, I really would’ve thought they were nuts. Weird week in Dadland, that’s for sure.
“I’ll need that key back in December,” I said. “When I come.”
“Cool!” Beau said, and banged out the door.
Soon it was time. Dad was stuck in his chair, so the good-bye was up to me. I decided, What the heck, and went over. I handed Dad back his remote, then knelt down and gave him a hug. Dad thumped me on the back a couple of times, then grabbed me and hugged me back for real.
Beau walked me downstairs to wait for my cab. “I’ll keep an eye on two sixteen,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said. “Call or e-mail if anything comes up, okay?” I gave him my info. I’d written Iris’s phone number down too, and when Beau’s eyes got to it, I saw him start to blush.
Then Eric appeared around the corner and came straight for us. What new abuse would he trot out this time? I wondered. But he did something I never would’ve predicted: He smiled at me. And, as if that weren’t weird enough, he said, “Hey, man, is it true you know Chet Carter?”
“Yeah,” I answered.
My taxi pulled up.
“So what’s he like? Like, what kinda guy is he?” Eric asked.
“He’s really nice,” I said.
The driver opened the trunk and I put my suitcase in.
“I was wondering,” Eric said, looking almost nervous, “if you’d, like, give him a tape of mine to, like, listen to or something. Let me know what he thinks, maybe.”
I looked from Eric to Beau, then back at Eric. “Sure,” I said. “Why don’t you have Beau mail it to me sometime and I’ll do that?”
“I could run upstairs and grab a tape right now,” Eric said.
I pointed to the cab. “Sorry. I gotta go.”
“It’ll just take a second,” Eric whined.
I opened the car door and got in, saying, “Just get my address from Beau.”
Then I saluted Beau, whose smile was even bigger and g
oofier than usual, and shut the door behind me. As we pulled away from the curb, I thought, Yesss! Now Eric has got to be nice to Beau. I hoped Beau would hold out for a l-o-n-g time. Years! Make Eric grovel, beg for my address. Ha! Wait till I tell Theo!
First I was just grinning, but then I started laughing. And then I couldn’t stop. It turned into a full-blown screaming meemie attack right there in the cab. But the driver didn’t bat an eye. Maybe people got hysterical alone in L.A. taxis all the time.
After I’d calmed down some, I gradually realized that Ditz wasn’t going to greet me when I got home, and now I was going to have to face that. I told myself that maybe I’d blotch like Beau. Maybe I’d sob the way Iris said Cora did. Maybe I’d be stone-faced like Dad. But one way or another, I’d be okay—more or less, eventually, probably.
I’d never taken a cab alone before. Never gotten myself to the airport, checked my suitcase, or found my gate all by myself. But it went off without a hitch.
As soon as I sat down, a flight attendant crouched next to me and said, “If you need anything, young man, you just let me know. Okay?”
I almost told her I wasn’t as young as I looked—almost said, “My dad was short too, till high school.” But I heard Beau’s voice in my head saying, “Harsh! Harsh words on an airplane!”
So I smiled at the attendant. “Thanks,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Just fine.”
Stranger in Dadland Page 9