The Truth as Told by Mason Buttle

by Leslie Connor

  But the house is not the only thing he asks about. We get into the room I sleep in and Calvin whispers. Like being polite. He asks, “So, is Shayleen your sister, your cousin, or what?”

  I say, “Or what.” That makes him laugh.

  But it is not all wisecrack. It is pretty hard to explain about Shayleen.

  I say, “My uncle Drum brought her home from the diner one day. Right around the end of last apple season. And I don’t why he did it. But I know she is not his girlfriend. Just in case you wondered about that. She is too young for him.”

  Calvin nods. Like he knows what I am talking about.

  He says, “Hmm. She’s been here a long time then.” He takes out his tablet. He asks me this: “So when is the end of apple season?”

  I say, “Well. Not much to pick after the middle of October.”

  Calvin is calculating. Poking numbers on that tablet. I wait.

  He says, “So, here is an estimate. If we say Shayleen got here on October fifteenth. That means she has been here three hundred thirty-six days.”

  I say, “Holy cow. Well. It has been long.”

  I dry my face on my shoulder. Doesn’t work so well. I am pretty sweated up. I need a fresh shirt, is what. I wipe again. Then I see Calvin Chumsky watching me do that.

  I say, “Sorry to be a gross-out. I sweat. A lot. You probably saw.”

  Calvin shrugs. He says, “Yeah. I noticed.”

  I say, “It’s a real thing. A problem. The doctor knows. He calls it die-ya-for—something.”

  Calvin says, “I think it’s diaphoresis?”

  I say, “Yeah! That’s it! You know about it?”

  He says, “I looked it up this afternoon.” He jiggles the tablet.

  I say, “Because you saw me? Saw me sweating?”

  He says, “Yeah. I look up everything I encounter.”

  I say, “Well, then maybe you know. It is about sweat glands. Mine go overtime. Nobody knows why I got it. Might be able to get it to stop. If I can get an operation. Someday. But anyway, it is why I change my shirt at school. As long as I remember to take the extra.”

  Then I remember today. And I remember the shirt I am wearing. The STOOPID shirt. Except now STOOPID is covered with purple-plaid tape. I look down my chest. I remember what Ms. Blinny wrote. Comes flying right out of my mouth. I say, “Thinks outside the box.” Then I say, “Ms. Blinny said that about my brain. My mind.”

  “It’s a nice compliment,” says Calvin.

  “Guess so. My brain sure works different from other brains.”

  Calvin looks at me. Kind of has a grin on. He shrugs. He says, “Outside the box.”

  chapter 15

  FEEDING THE DRAGON

  The SWOOF is busy. Lots of kids stop in here. Some have appointments. But others just want to come. That’s because of Ms. Blinny. She has a way. She cares about everyone.

  I scoot on by a group. They are squeezed together at the little table by the soft couch. Making posters. Looks like. I sit down at the desk where I can talk to the Dragon. My knees bump the top. I twist to fit.

  Ms. Blinny says, “Sorry. The desk is much too short for you, Mason. You are by far the tallest Dragon user.”

  She helps me open up my profile. But then I am all set. I remember how this works. Pretty much. But a funny thing happens. I freeze. Again.

  Behind me the SWOOF is busy. Swarm of kids in here.

  Ms. Blinny knows. She says, “Just go about it, Mason. Focus on the Dragon. Tell your story.”

  But I am thinking about a lot. Got things that knock at the front of my brain. And stuff that sticks at the back. I am trying to remember to use sequence to tell my story. I think this: Shayleen is part of my story. Whether I like that or not.

  I wake the Dragon. I say this:

  Well. Okay. Umm. My uncle Drum is a good guy. And that is probably why it happened. That he brought Shayleen home from the diner. Happened on a perfectly good Saturday morning. I’ve been waiting for her to go away ever since. Soon as Grandma saw Shayleen she pulled Uncle Drum around the corner of the kitchen. And I heard what she said to him. She’s a girl, Drum. A girl.

  Grandma was pretty right. Shayleen is a grown girl. She came into the crumbledown with a backpack on. Cheek full of mint candies. Drippy black eye stuff. Sniffling nose. So yeah. Grown. But Grandma meant that Shayleen was too young for my uncle Drum. And she is. And Uncle Drum told Grandma it was not like that. Shayleen was no girlfriend. He said he found her at the diner that morning. And she couldn’t pay for her breakfast. So he did. She was crying. Poor thing. Poor thing. That’s what he said. So then he said she needed a place to stay. Like maybe she didn’t have a home. They decided to put Shayleen in my room. I was polite about her. I unmade my bed and took my sheets to the upstairs with me. I’m in the room that was my mom’s room. Still looks like it is for a mom. Flowers on the wallpaper. They fixed up my bed for Shayleen. Now there she sleeps for the last three hundred thirty-six nights. Or. Wait. Umm. It could be three hundred thirty-seven now. That is an estimate. Shayleen has done the fine work of filling up my old room with a whole lot of merchandise. She gets that all from the shopping channel. Big mistake, putting her in there with the TV. Uncle Drum keeps saying we’re going to move it out. Three hundred thirty-seven days. Has not happened. But I did get my own stuff out.

  Anyway, umm. Oh. Yeah. Big mistake giving Shayleen the credit card too. She has bought gadgets that slice and dice. Blend and stir. She has a flying saucer thing that can keep a salad chilled and a set of stretchy bands that give you rock-hard abs. And oh yeah tubes of goo to keep your skin tan and wrinkle-free. Shayleen does not use these things much. Seems to me she just loves the buying. And opening up the boxes. She sends me out to meet the brown truck when she hears it pull up.

  Tell you what. There was some fun to it at first. It was something new going on. We all got kind of stuck on watching Shayleen march across the top of the bed in her socks. Using her telephone voice. Twisting the corner of Uncle Drum’s credit card in the gap between her front teeth. Then her falling down all happy once she put her order through.

  But after three hundred thirty-seven days I’m sick of fetching packages. Sick of Shayleen being bossy.

  I sit back from the Dragon. I look at all the writing. It is a lot. Guess that is what it takes to feed Shayleen to the Dragon. I like the way the words look. Until they go wavy. Squash up. And slide sideways. I think this: Don’t look at it, Mason. Just figure out what to say next. Write next. The sequence. But then I feel something tapping on my back. My knees bang up under the desk. I tug out of the headset and turn around.

  I see the crooked smile. It is Annalissetta Yang.

  chapter 16

  ANNALISSETTA YANG

  Tell you what. A crooked smile is not always a bad one. Annalissetta Yang, well, she is just made like that.

  I met Annalissetta last year. She was new in Merrimack. So a teacher introduced her to the class. Then she wrote Annalissetta’s name up on the whiteboard. I couldn’t read it. But I could hear and see that her parents are very fond of letters. And if she ever wrote one of those acrostic poems from her name, well, that would be very long.

  Me knowing Annalissetta kind of has to do with Benny dying. But I am the only one who knows that. Started with me staying home for one whole week after the funeral. Coming back to school after was not so good. Seemed like there were other people besides the lieutenant who wanted to ask me questions. About Benny Kilmartin. The way I could tell this was because of the way kids stared. And whispered. And did not ask or talk about Benny at all. Stayed like that right up to the last day of fifth grade.

  So then last year was the beginning of sixth grade. And there I was. Starting at the new school without my best friend. And tell you what. I missed him bad. Ms. Blinny knew that. She said to remember Benny with all my heart. She said to believe I would make new friends too. So I started saying hello to everyone in the halls. If you are looking right at someone’s face you should say some
thing. And besides, I liked it when Ms. Blinny greeted me so friendly. That all felt new. So I tried for more new. But Ms. Blinny is pretty and she doesn’t sweat. And nobody had questions for her about her friend who died. So maybe she’s better at it.

  Anyway, I tried it. Said hello to that group of girls. The ones who seem like they are tied to each other with fishing line. They ducked chins. Bumped shoulders. They went by. Funny thing. There is always someone else coming down a school hallway. People parade. Then one day, I’m helloing and next thing I know, I’m saying hello to Matt and Lance. Matt pulled his lips inside out at me. Crossed his eyes. Lance turned backward in the hall and called out, “Hey, Buttle, if we want to hear anything out of you, we’ll squeeze your head.” He showed me his middle finger. Lance loves to do that.

  Something about that whole thing made me miss Benny all over again. I didn’t want to look at Matt and Lance so I looked down at the floor. Walked on. That’s how I crashed into Annalissetta Yang. Or she crashed into me.

  Annalissetta walks with a green rolling thing called a Crocodile. On four wheels. It helps her. Like for support and balance. And it works. You might not believe me when I say it, but that girl goes pretty fast with that thing. I think that was part of why we crashed. Annalissetta is a tiny girl. She went down.

  I figure if you knock something over you better pick it up. Well. Big mistake. I reached down for Annalissetta’s little arms. Thought maybe it would help if I got her upright again. Steady on that Crocodile. She said, “Naw-uh. You can’t pick me up.”

  I said, “Why not?”

  She said, “I am capable. I can do things for myself. So if you help me when I don’t need help, you underestimate me.”

  I said, “I do?”

  She said, “Yeah. And that insults me.”

  I said, “Oh. Sorry.” Then I wondered who told Annalissetta Yang all of that.

  I stood like a stalled-out dozer. She struggled up. Tell you what. Not easy for her. Her legs keep a bend to them. Like tight muscles or something. Kids in the hall saw that. Saw me standing there. Not helping. They did not think good of me. But I knew they didn’t hear her say that part about naw-uh, and you insult me.

  I do not know how to do right for something like that.

  Annalissetta was okay. Good thing. But when she tried to go on her way, she couldn’t. That Crocodile was stuck.

  She tried pushing. She said, “What the heck! What the heck!” Then she said, “Oh, I know. I have too much darn friction.”

  I saw what it was. Red knob on one wheel. Must have gotten too tight. Somehow. Knew I could put that right. So I reached. But then I stopped. I asked her, “If I fix it, would that insult you?”

  She said no it would not. She smiled her funny smile. Crooked. Way up high on one side and not at all up on the other. Tiny teeth. She said, “I can’t turn that thing. So, if you could, help me out. Please.”

  So I fixed it. Easy. And then Annalissetta thanked me. Then she took off. Rolling pretty fast. There is something to like about that.

  I see her lots. She comes to the SWOOF. And now I learn this: She is a Dragon user. Helps her like it helps me. Different reason though. Her hands curl up. I know why because she told me. She said that is trouble with her muscles. That is because she has cerebral palsy.

  That is a tougher trouble than my troubles. But I think this: I don’t have to feel too bad for Annalissetta. That’s because she does not feel bad for herself.

  chapter 17

  UPS

  Calvin and I are drinking banana shakes. We just took another run in from the cluster stop. Good thing is, nobody took his tablet today. Bad thing is, we got some smashed apple on our shirts. Good thing is, apples don’t hurt as much as lacrosse balls.

  Shayleen comes out of the room that used to be mine. Cuckoo bird. She is jumping up and down. Vanilla wafer in one hand. And she is screamy. She says, “UPS! Right out front! Go, Mason! Carry it in!”

  I look at Calvin. Looks like he’s got a fire alarm ringing in his ear. Looks worried that there is a real fire.

  I say, “It’s fine, it’s fine. This is what she does.”

  Grandma says, “We don’t need more gizmos and gadgets. Oh, such waste of money.” She says this to the air. Uncle Drum is the one who likes to see Shayleen all happy. He gives her the credit card. Too bad he is not around today to see her open her new box.

  I slide off the stool. I tell Calvin, “Be right back.”

  Shayleen does not care what else is going on. If the truck comes, she wants me out there. It’s always the same with her.

  So here I am. Waving to the driver. That’s Jerald. Been getting to know him pretty well this year. Or these 338 or 339 days. Whatever it is. I thank him. Take the box from him. It is so light I almost let it drop. I think this: Shayleen must have ordered some air.

  I go into the crumbledown. Carry that box on my shoulder. I pretend it is heavy. I grunt and trip all the way into my old room.

  Calvin is watching from the kitchen. Eyes wide.

  I bobble that box like I’m about to drop it.

  I say, “Whoopsy! Whoa!”

  Shayleen yells, “You stop that, Mason! That might be something breakable!”

  Might be.

  Shayleen can’t even remember what she has ordered.

  I toss the box in the air. Catch it.

  Calvin is laughing.

  Shayleen says, “Mason! You faker! Not funny!” Her face is red.

  Tell you what. I like this. Can’t help it. Getting mad at me is the most exercise Shayleen gets in a day. So I keep it up. I jostle that box.

  She says, “Set it down. On the bed. And you be respectful to me. I’m an adult! You’re just a boy!”

  Like that makes me some low thing in this world. I think this: With Calvin here we are two boys. Shayleen is outnumbered. I don’t say it. But I smile about it.

  I leave the box on her bed. I back out the door slowly. I get ready to fire my rhyme line at her. The one she hates.

  I take a big breath. I say, “You’re mean, Shayleen!”

  Then I run out of my old room. Before she can chuck a vanilla wafer at me.

  She eats those all day. She butters them too. Has to be the sea-salt kind that comes in a tub. Uncle Drum gets it for her. She is particular.

  I tell Calvin, “Sorry for that noise. Doesn’t happen much at our house.”

  He says, “Yeah . . . Shayleen’s got a loud voice all right. But the rest of you have a low hum about you. Peaceful. Kind of like a funeral home.”

  Then Calvin turns all red in the face. He says, “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean that as an insult.”

  I say, “No. It’s okay. I have been to a few funerals. I think you’re pretty much right.”

  chapter 18

  A PAIR OF POEMS

  In the upstairs room of the crumbledown Calvin sits on the bed tucked under the low part of the ceiling. He is on his tablet. He does a lot of that. Looking up one thing leads to looking up another.

  I have a chore to do. I grab my dirty clothes up off the floor. Take them to the laundry chute in the hall. Socks. Unders. T-shirts. I come back in. Check under the bed. Sure enough, I find more.

  Calvin looks up. He says, “Mason, is this room growing laundry?”

  I say, “Yes. Because I am too now and then about it.”

  He says, “And where do you keep going with it?”

  “The chute,” I say. “End of the hall.”

  Then I just know it. Calvin will want to see it. He gets up and follows. He stands on his toes. Peers in. And down.

  I say, “Funny thing, huh? A hole that runs through the house. Quickest way to the washer.”

  Calvin says, “I see that.” He pokes his head into the chute. Then out. Looks at the walls around it like he’s thinking about how that got built.

  We stand squished together and I throw a shirt down. It catches air. Opens up on the way. Blocks the light in the chute while it falls. That square of light opens up again when the s
hirt hits the basket in the kitchen below. Looks like somebody is flipping a light switch.

  Calvin says, “Cool.” He drums his fingers in the chute. He is still looking up it and down it. He says, “This is genius. Every house should have one of these.” He puts his head in there again. Calls out, “Helloooo!”

  “Good-byeee!” Grandma calls back.

  We laugh into the chute. Ghost voices. Then we hear Grandma laughing back. Just quiet. Like she is.

  I tell Calvin, “Funny thing, I can sometimes hear her radio coming up out of the chute.” Then I stuff more dirty shirts in. He watches them fall.

  Calvin says, “Look at that. And it’s big enough for bundles of sheets and everything. You could put me down that thing.”

  I say, “Okay. But I won’t.”

  We hang around in the upstairs room. Kind of feels like not much to do. Calvin shares his tablet with me. He looks up laundry chutes. Then something about house building. This is why I know that looking up one thing leads to another. But I lose attention. I am eyes out the window. I’m looking at the orchard.

  I hear Calvin say, “You’re not an indoor kid. Are you?”

  I think. Then I say, “I guess not so much. What are you?”

  He says, “I’m kind of indoor. Sorry. But my parents always try to put me outdoors.”

  I laugh. I tell Calvin, “Maybe it’s the size of us. You fit better indoors and I fit better outdoors.”

  Then Calvin laughs. He says, “You want to go outside now.” He says that not like a question.

  He is right. I pretty much always want to be out. Thing is, there can be trouble with Matt Drinker and his friends. Even after the cluster stop. Because our yards meet up with the orchard between us. And Matt is the kind of kid who loves to stir things up. I’m used to it. But I don’t want that for Calvin.

  I say, “Used to have a good spot out in the orchard. A tree fort.”

  Calvin looks at me like he is waiting. Maybe I will say more. But all I do is look over at the two papers I have tacked up on the wall here in the upstairs room. Two poems.