My Life as a Cartoonist

by Janet Tashjian

  “Handouts!” Matt jokes. “You went all out.”

  Carly laughs and for a moment it’s as if it’s just the three of us, goofing around in BC time—Before Crash.

  “Today’s topic is creating original characters,” I continue.

  “Speaking of original characters, any room for me?”

  flourish

  I don’t need to look to see whose voice that is. Umberto wheels himself into the room with a flourish. “I didn’t sign up. I hope you don’t mind walk-ins.”

  Everyone in the room stops what they’re doing to process Umberto’s joke. Finally Susan bursts out laughing, then the other kids do too. Matt and Carly check to see how I’ll react but I just laugh along with the others. What I really feel inside isn’t delight but dread. Has Umberto made it his life’s work to torture me? If so, he’s doing a bang-up job.

  muster

  I muster all my strength to bring the club back on track and hand Umberto a copy of the class outline. “We’re talking about creating characters. I thought Terry and Tommy could talk about the cat comic strips they do.”

  “Can’t wait,” Umberto says. “After that, I want to talk about my monkey strip.”

  “Cool,” Terry says. “I love monkeys.”

  Umberto reaches into his pack and pulls out a stack of papers. This is not happening.

  “These are awesome,” Tommy says. “Using a monkey is a great idea.”

  replica

  I stare at my pack on the desk. My own work will now look like a replica of Umberto’s. The kid hasn’t been in the room for a minute and he’s already succeeded in taking the wind out of my sails.

  Even though she’s been focused on Crash 24/7, Carly immediately comes to my rescue. “Can we see the cats?” she asks the twins. “They sound really great.”

  unsettled

  Tommy and Terry each take out stacks of wrinkled pages from their packs. I try to grab the reins of the class back by asking how they originally came up with the idea. When I spy Umberto out of the corner of my eye, he’s not as unsettled as I’d hoped, but instead listens to Terry with full attention.

  Tommy talks about how the cat character has evolved since they first started drawing him but Terry interrupts him. “What about you, Derek? Show us some of your illustrations.”

  I reluctantly spread my Super Frank panels across the desk.

  “These are great!” Matt says, as if it’s the first time he’s seen them. “Super Frank looks like a real monkey.”

  Susan takes one of my drawings and compares it to Umberto’s. “Your monkey has much better fur,” she tells him. “The face is more realistic, too.”

  “Yeah, and the lettering’s really professional,” Tommy adds.

  “I worked hard on them,” says Umberto proudly.

  Starting a cartooning club suddenly seems like the idea of an imbecile—namely, me.

  unexpected

  “I think Derek’s are more original,” Carly says. “Having a baby seal as a bad guy is totally unexpected.”

  Just about as unexpected as a classmate in a wheelchair trying to ruin your life, I think. But the other kids want to hear more about Umberto’s process. I admit defeat and give up trying to manage the club, at least for this session. Umberto has conquered me fair and square. I sit down next to Matt, who shrugs. He’s right—Umberto’s won this round; it’s up to me to win the next one.

  Water on the Brain

  introductory

  After the fiasco with the cartoon club, all I want to do is hole up in a cave, but Carly won’t have it. She convinces Matt the best medicine is for me to go surfing. She arranges for Heinz to give us lessons at an introductory rate. Matt’s wanted to try surfing for a long time and immediately says yes for the two of us.

  Matt’s brother, Jamie, drops us off in Santa Monica, where Carly, Crash, and some other kids are already getting ready to go out. It doesn’t take a genius to guess which one is Heinz. The guy’s so tan and his hair so bleached from the sun, he looks like he hasn’t spent a minute of his life indoors. He calls Matt and me over to his truck and throws us each a wetsuit.

  “You guys are totally getting up today,” Heinz says. “I guarantee it.”

  Matt and I explain that we’re skateboarders who’ve never been surfing before.

  “Skateboarding will really help with your balance,” Heinz says. “But it’s all about the pop-up.” He explains that the most important thing is going from a paddle position to a standing position—fast. He chooses two surfboards from several in his van and tells us to meet him by the water.

  As Matt and I walk down the beach, I look around to locate Carly, but she and Crash have already paddled out.

  camaraderie

  “You think we’ll really catch a ride today?” Matt asks. “That would be awesome.”

  I try not to get my hopes up; if surfing turns out to be anything like the cartoon club, I’ll end up tangled up in my leash, spit up on the shore with a face full of sand.

  undermined

  When my parents asked me last night how the club went, I told them it was amazing, that the other kids got a lot out of it too. I may have gone a bit over the top, animatedly describing the club’s camaraderie. Dad seemed proud that the information he’d shared had been useful; I didn’t want to spoil his good feelings by admitting Umberto had undermined my comics as well as my authority.

  authority

  The truth is I couldn’t just blame Umberto; I LET my authority as the club’s leader be undermined. I could’ve guided the club back on track after Umberto tried to take over but I didn’t, choosing the easier path of surrender. And that was the part that hurt more than Umberto staking claim to my comic book ideas.

  Thankfully, I can’t spend the morning dwelling on past mistakes because Heinz has us in the sand practicing pop-ups. Going from lying down to standing as fast as you can isn’t a skateboard skill. But after twenty minutes of practicing, Matt and I seem to get the hang of it. When I look out on the horizon to find Carly in the water, she and Crash are sitting on their boards talking, framed by the morning sun.

  “Today’s a good day to learn,” Heinz says. “Not a lot of wind and nice, easy waves.” He motions for us to grab our boards and follow him out.

  When Carly sees us, she yells some much needed encouragement.

  “I knew those two would hit it off.” Heinz gestures to Carly and Crash. “They’re like two peas in a pod.”

  perspective

  Matt shoots me a “what is he talking about?” look. I could tell him I’ve got a different perspective on Crash but I don’t, letting Matt continue our game of Trash Crash. “Crash and Carly made for each other—as if!” he says.

  “Yeah, what do we know? We’re only her best friends,” I add.

  The water’s cold at first. Heinz walks alongside us as Matt and I paddle out. With new sets of waves coming at faster intervals, getting outside-the-break is more difficult than it looks. It’s hard to imagine Carly’s gotten so good so fast; she breezes by us effortlessly.

  “Okay,” Heinz says. He’s standing chest-deep in the water between us. “It takes a while to learn how to read the waves. So for now you’ll have to trust me on which waves are the best ones for you to catch.”

  chugging

  I’m not sure how advisable it is to put your faith in a guy who got his nickname chugging a bottle of ketchup, but that’s what Matt and I do.

  “Not this one,” Heinz says when Matt impatiently starts to go. He brings Matt’s board parallel to mine. “Sometimes the most important skill to have out here is patience.”

  After a few minutes, Heinz turns to me. “This next one—go!” And before I can ask a single question, he pushes my board, with me on it, toward the shore.

  approximately

  I pop up immediately, completing phase one of today’s lesson. All I have to do now is stay on the board, which I do for approximately half a second before I fall off and get sucked under the water.

&
nbsp; clobbered

  I don’t worry about losing the board—it’s connected to my ankle by a leash—just getting clobbered by it. After being tossed around by the ocean for several seconds, I break through the surface and take a deep breath of fresh air.

  addicted

  Even though I’ve just been flung around by the waves and didn’t ride more than a few inches, it’s obvious how people can get addicted to this sport. Granted, I failed miserably in my first attempt BUT I LOVED IT.

  I turn around when I hear Heinz yelling at Matt to go. Matt pops up like a champ—a little slower than I did—but unlike me, he stays up. My best friend rides his very first wave all the way into shore. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to feeling a tiny bit envious.

  When he emerges from the water, I’m right there waiting for him.

  “You were amazing!” I shout. “You rode it all the way in!”

  Matt lets out a yell and tugs the leash to bring his board closer. “Let’s go again!”

  attempts

  Heinz calls us back out. Even though he’s probably fifty yards away and we have to fight the wind and waves to get to him, neither Matt nor I complain as we paddle back out. It takes me four more attempts before I finally ride a wave all the way to shore.

  “You guys were great!” Carly tells us afterward. Her hair falls around her face in little blond spirals.

  “Not bad for your first time,” Crash says.

  Matt and I exchange glances. The fact that Crash is even talking to us—never mind giving us a compliment—is almost more than either of us could hope for.

  “I’m going to stay,” Crash tells Carly. “Why don’t you go with your friends?”

  expectantly

  “I can stay too.” Carly looks at him expectantly.

  Both Matt and I dig around in our packs for money to pay Heinz, trying to ignore the private conversation going on around us.

  “Freddy just texted me,” Crash continues. “I’m going to meet him at the shop later.” He gives Carly a quick kiss, then heads down to the water.

  I can tell by the way her face falls that Carly doesn’t want Crash to leave. She looks out over the parking lot, unsure of what to do.

  “Hey, let’s get some of those famous chicken wings you keep talking about,” I tell her.

  She nods and follows us as we bring our boards to Heinz’s truck. But the usual chatty Carly doesn’t say a word.

  “You should definitely come with us,” Matt adds. “In case Derek didn’t bring enough money.”

  A part of Carly looks like she wants to laugh, but most of her still looks sad. “I just thought Crash and I would spend the day together, that’s all.”

  “Sorry we’re such a lame second prize,” I respond.

  She elbows me in the side. “I didn’t say THAT.” She takes off, sprinting up the hill, daring us to catch up with her.

  It’s hardly a contest, but Matt and I hold ourselves back so Carly can win.

  An Empty Club

  appalled

  At the next cartoon club, I’m appalled that the only other member there besides me is Matt. I knew Carly had an eye doctor appointment and wouldn’t be here. But where is everyone else?

  “Was the first class that bad?” I ask Matt. “Is that why no one’s here?”

  Ms. Ramirez answers for him. “Attendance usually drops off after the first session. Happens in all the clubs. Kids get bored so easily nowadays.”

  “Bored with CARTOONS?” The concept hardly seems possible.

  begrudgingly

  I begrudgingly go to the class outline, putting a smile on my face as I tell Matt we’re going to talk about creating characters. Like any good best friend, he listens attentively, even when I lose my place twice.

  attentively

  Half an hour into the meeting, Tommy and Terry show up.

  “Sorry,” Tommy says. “There was a band meeting we couldn’t get out of.”

  vitality

  As they grab their seats, I feel a bit relieved. Why do I always think everything’s about me? The other kids who aren’t here probably have good excuses too. With new vitality, I go back to today’s topic, using examples from my own notebooks to share. My drawings cover the desk like a cartoon tablecloth. Everything’s going well … until Umberto wheels himself in.

  “I didn’t know today was show-and-tell,” he says. “Or I would’ve brought copies for everyone.” He reaches for the pack slung on the back of his chair. “Oh wait. I did!”

  deflected

  He takes a stack of homemade comic books out of his bag and passes them around. In two seconds flat, Umberto has completely deflected the group’s attention from my work to his. I flip through his handout with the lame, unoriginal Super Hank until I spot his copycat hero capturing two terrorists who just happen to be … baby seals.

  I can barely control my anger. “Are you kidding me? This is a total rip-off!”

  Umberto shoots me a canary-eating grin. “Why? Is my strip similar to yours?”

  “You know it is! Either that or two people who just happen to sit next to each other in class both come up with bad guys who are baby seals.”

  Umberto looks at me with an expression of mock innocence. “My bad guys are sea lions, which are totally different from baby seals. Sea lions have ears. They’re social and spend a lot of time out of the water—”

  “I don’t care about sea lions!” I find myself shouting. “First you copied my monkey, then you copied my seal! You wouldn’t know an original idea if it bit you in the butt!”

  “That would never happen,” Umberto laughs. “Considering my butt is always stuck in this chair.”

  defuse

  Yet again Umberto’s managed to turn an innocent comment into a crack about his disability. I have to hand it to him—he outsmarts me every time.

  Matt tries to defuse the situation by asking Tommy to tell me about the new ink he found. As Tommy discusses how much better his lettering’s been since he discovered the new ink, my mind projects several years into the future to Umberto and me battling it out in caps and gowns at high school graduation with him trying to run me over with his wheelchair as I accept my diploma.

  quarrel

  I’m determined not to let the other kids suffer because of my quarrel with Umberto, so I steer the conversation back to the class outline.

  The rest of the class goes by quickly and I’m surprised when Ms. Ramirez announces it’s four o’clock.

  Umberto looks over as I pack up my drawings. “These really are good,” he says. “Too bad I thought of mine first.”

  For once I decide to listen to Carly’s advice and not take the bait.

  “Ready, Matt?” I ask.

  Umberto blocks my path. “Hey, George. I’m talking to you.”

  I continue to ignore him, which seems to make him even madder. I look up to see if Ms. Ramirez is still here but she’s in the hall talking to Mrs. Taylor.

  “Hey, Derek,” Matt says. “Our ride is here.”

  extract

  I hurry past Umberto to Matt in the doorway. I know he’s lying—we’re walking home today, not getting a ride—but I appreciate Matt trying to extract me from the situation.

  “You can run, but you can’t hide,” Umberto calls after me. “Unlike me, who can’t run at all.”

  Outside, I thank Matt for bailing me out.

  “You need a new strategy,” Matt says. “Umberto’s only getting worse.”

  I nod, knowing it’s true.

  “Let’s go to my house,” he says. “I’ve got a package of hot dogs with your name on it.”

  Anyone else would think Matt is suggesting an early dinner, but I know better. When we get to his house, he takes the hot dogs out of the fridge and gets a ball of thick twine from the garage. We cut the string into four-inch lengths, then get a nail to poke holes into the top of each hot dog. Using the glue gun his mom has for craft projects, we glue the pieces of string into each of the hot dogs till they look like s
ticks of dynamite, each with its own fuse.

  demolish

  We used to build these makeshift explosives back when we were in elementary school, pretending to demolish Lego cities we’d created. Now we plant the fake dynamite around his mom’s container garden, making explosion noises as we imagine the clay pots blowing up all over the yard. Sure, it’s immature, but for an hour or so, our lives are simple and uncomplicated again.

  BOOM!

  Trouble on Wheels

  launches

  The next day I fully intend to ignore Umberto but as soon as I sit down, he launches in.

  “Just to be clear,” Umberto says. “I didn’t copy your baby seals.”

  I know he’s baiting me, yet I fall for it anyway. “Just like you didn’t copy my monkey?”

  “Exactly,” he smirks. “What are the chances?”

  “One in a billion.” I know I should stop here but I don’t. “About the same odds as you coming up with original material.”

  Umberto’s eyes flash with anger. “You want to insult me, you better be prepared to back it up.”

  “Oh, I am.”