My Life as a Cartoonist

by Janet Tashjian

  My mother hands us two bottles of water and a container of chocolate-covered almonds from the office kitchen. She also feeds Minnie a dog biscuit on her way back to the house. Minnie has a field day sniffing around the many pet smells in the waiting room. I pet him for a few minutes so he doesn’t feel threatened.

  chaotic

  Underneath the shock and upset of this chaotic day, something nags at me. I take a large gulp of water before asking the question I’ve wondered about for a long time. “Why have you been such a jerk to me?”

  Umberto shrugs, which makes me feel angry all over again, as if this afternoon never happened. “Don’t take it personally,” he finally says.

  “It’s hard not to take it personally when you’ve made a mission out of bullying me.”

  “Wow. You think I’m a bully? Really?” Umberto actually seems surprised.

  “What would YOU call it?”

  Umberto’s tone is now apologetic. “I guess I have been. I’m really sorry.”

  I wait for him to say more, and after a few moments, he does. “I got picked on a lot at my last school. I definitely didn’t want to come here and turn into one of those jerks who tortures other kids in his class.”

  “Well, you did.”

  He nods in agreement. “Maybe I was just nervous about being new and having to start from scratch in the friend department.”

  I try to make sense of what he’s saying, but it’s hard. “If you were anxious about making friends, wouldn’t it be easier to be NICE?”

  Umberto looks at me, then bursts out laughing. “I guess I’m not used to doing things the easy way.”

  “Obviously.” I start laughing too. “I mean, we had drawing in common. And cartoons!”

  pounce

  We finish the rest of the chocolate-covered almonds and head back outside. I carry Bodi and hold open the door with my hip. My parents suddenly appear out of nowhere as if waiting to pounce.

  I introduce Umberto to my dad, who shakes his hand, then gets behind his chair, helping Umberto down the steps to the driveway with Minnie tagging along behind.

  “I’m sorry there’s no handicap access,” Dad apologizes.

  renovate

  My mom explains she’s been saving up to renovate and points to the side of the building where a ramp will lead to her office. She’s being nice, but not overly nice, and I know it’s because of how mean Umberto’s been to me. But now he’s the reason my dog is still alive and I’m ready to forgive and forget.

  My father lifts Umberto’s wheelchair up the steps to our kitchen while I carry Bodi. Umberto’s face lights up when he sees my monkey. “Live and in person, it’s Super Frank!”

  I take Frank out of his cage and gently hold him toward Umberto. Minnie isn’t as excited as Umberto to meet Frank and begins to bark. Umberto reaches down and picks Minnie up to safety in his lap. I tell Umberto I’d like to show him what Frank can do.

  navigate

  Thankfully, our doorways are wide enough for Umberto to navigate. He follows me to the den, where I demonstrate Frank’s skills with opening and retrieving DVDs. When I show him the monkey college DVD, Umberto watches in amazement.

  “I KNEW you’d think this was cool,” I say. “I wanted to show you this the first day we met.”

  “I was stupid,” Umberto admits. “And I’m really sorry.”

  I keep checking on Bodi, who still seems tired. I don’t want to think about how close I came to losing him today.

  After a while, I go upstairs and bring down my markers and several pads. Umberto and I spend the rest of the afternoon doing what we should’ve done from Day One—making each other laugh with our drawings.

  You’re Friends with WHO?

  skeptical

  Throughout the day, I violate school policy and text my mother a thousand times to check on Bodi. She tells me he’s fine and to get back to class. Both Carly and Matt are concerned about Bodi and shocked that Umberto was the one who helped save him.

  As expected, the word skeptical doesn’t begin to describe Matt and Carly when I tell them Umberto and I hung out at my house for the rest of the day.

  “You got detention because of him!” Carly says.

  “He totally copied your cartoons,” Matt adds. “He gave you a stupid nickname.”

  “We kind of had fun,” I say defensively.

  ambush

  Carly remains doubtful. “Suppose this is all some fiendish plot to get your guard down so he can ambush you when you least expect it?”

  annihilate

  “He’s probably got some complicated evil plan, just waiting for the perfect time to annihilate you.” Even though it’s his idea, Matt shudders at the thought.

  I smile because I know if the tables were turned, I’d be saying the same things. Carly and Matt are good friends, and I can’t blame them for not trusting Umberto. All I can tell them is that Umberto helped me save Bodi, and right now that’s good enough for me. After much persuading, Matt and Carly decide to give Umberto a chance, while still keeping their eyes out for trouble.

  dissect

  Truth be told, I didn’t trust Umberto 100 percent either. After he left my house, my parents OF COURSE wanted to dissect everything that happened. I’m not kidding when I say I’d sooner sign up for another week of detention than sit through one more parental interrogation.

  quirky

  But today Umberto’s been making an effort to be a regular friend. He doesn’t call me names or egg me on to fight him. He shows me new cartoons he did last night starring a neatly drawn octopus. I compliment him on the strip’s quirky point of view.

  “Why did you put so much effort into copying my strips if you had original ideas all along?”

  I detect the old, devilish Umberto when he starts to laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe because I knew it would drive you crazy.”

  His answer isn’t rational and doesn’t help me understand the events of the past month. I chalk it up to THINGS PEOPLE DO THAT DON’T MAKE SENSE and race out the door to see Bodi as soon as the bell rings.

  “Hold on a second!” Ms. McCoddle says.

  “But my dog—”

  “Your dog can wait.” She holds out her hand. “Either I get your collaboration today or you’re both here another week.”

  impeccable

  “Ask and you shall receive.” Umberto practically skids across the room, sliding up next to Ms. McCoddle. “Check out the lettering. It’s impeccable.”

  Ms. McCoddle lays the sheets of paper Umberto and I finished at my house yesterday across her desk. A slow smile creeps across her face. “Not bad, boys. Not bad at all.”

  revoked

  “Does that mean detention is hereby revoked?” I ask.

  She almost tousles my hair the way she used to back in kindergarten but thankfully stops herself. She gestures toward the door. “The two of you—go!”

  I race Umberto to the front door of the school.

  He beats me by a good ten seconds.

  Matt Joins In

  After a few days of Umberto being nice, Matt surprises me by asking Umberto if he wants to come over to his house and hang out with us after school. Umberto asks Bill, the van’s driver, if he can drop us all off at Matt’s. Bill thinks about it for a moment, then says okay. We watch Umberto guide his wheelchair into the van’s lift. I realize how much I take for granted just jumping into the car with my mom to get around the city. Matt gives the driver his address, and we settle into the extra seats.

  While Umberto talks to Bill about last night’s Lakers game, I lean over to Matt. “I thought we were going skateboarding.”

  “We are,” he answers.

  Matt’s plan suddenly dawns on me, and I break into a huge grin. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “I bet that chair can go really fast,” Matt says.

  When we look up, Umberto is watching us. “I’ll put my wheels up against yours anytime,” he says.

  “You don’t stand a chance,” I ans
wer.

  Bill says he’ll go out for a coffee and pick Umberto up in an hour; Umberto calls his mom to say he’ll be a little late. The three of us grab helmets from Matt’s overstuffed garage and head to the hill at the top of his street.

  spoilsport

  I don’t want to be a spoilsport but looking at the steepness of the hill suddenly fills me with worry.

  “Are you sure this is okay?” I ask Umberto.

  customized

  “There are kids who take customized chairs into the skate park in Venice,” Umberto says. “And that thing’s a bowl.”

  Matt shrugs, not worried in the least. “Are you using your arms or not?” he asks Umberto.

  “I don’t know,” Umberto answers. “Will you be using your legs?” And before I can even yell GO, Umberto is rolling down the hill.

  Matt and I take off after him on our boards.

  Umberto beats us, but not by much. We take turns pushing Umberto back up the hill. Matt and I slalom around Umberto’s wheelchair as we take another run.

  As we head to the van later, both Matt and I have to admit being with Umberto pushed us to ride as fast as we ever have.

  mobility

  “Just because my mobility is impaired doesn’t mean I can’t kick your butts,” Umberto gloats. “You should see me play basketball.”

  We grab ice pops from the freezer and sit on the curb waiting for Bill’s van. I gather up the courage to ask Umberto about his physical challenges.

  “I have a spinal birth defect,” he says. “I got used to being in a chair a long time ago.”

  “That stinks,” I say.

  Matt nods in agreement.

  Umberto shrugs. “That’s just the way it is.”

  There’s no arguing with Umberto on that, but his honesty and grace make me like him even more.

  When Bill pulls up, Umberto gets in the van and waves good-bye.

  As we watch the van drive away, Matt reaches down for his board. “I like him,” he says. “And he’s certainly fast in that chair. But I’m still not sure I trust him.”

  sabotage

  I understand Matt’s feelings, but I also know that friendships don’t work without trust and I don’t want to be the person to sabotage a potentially good one. So I decide to put my faith in Umberto and see what happens.

  My Best Idea, Hands Down

  Bodi’s on the mend from his seizure and I can finally relax. My mother has the Bodi Is Getting Old conversation with me at dinner, which makes me start to cry into my fried rice. I know Bodi’s old, I know this was a close call, but can I just enjoy Bodi a little while longer? Sheesh, Mom. Let me eat in peace.

  evidence

  After hanging out with Umberto for a few weeks, I come to appreciate some of his good qualities. Despite all the evidence when we first met, it turns out Umberto takes his friendships seriously, almost as much as Carly and Matt do. He helps me with our English assignments and recommends books at my reading level that don’t seem babyish. He even gives me tips on my lettering. In exchange, I give him some pointers I’ve learned from Dad and let him come over to sketch Dad’s mannequins.

  innovative

  But my most innovative idea comes while Matt and I take a surfing lesson with Heinz. As he finds us boards and booties in his messy truck, I scan some brochures shoved in a box behind the driver’s seat. And just like that, I get an amazing idea. (Turns out my last one—training Frank to be Umberto’s companion—wasn’t a great idea after all. Umberto did enjoy meeting Frank but admitted he wouldn’t want a capuchin for a helper. I guess monkey companions aren’t for everyone.)

  complex

  My new idea is a thousand times better, taking several weeks to put into action. The plan is so complex, I even have to run it by Umberto’s mother when I meet her at his house one Sunday afternoon. Her eyes light up when I tell her what I have in mind. She tells me to count her in, which I take as a sign that this idea might actually be one of my better ones.

  As expected, Carly has a million suggestions, most of which are excellent.

  * * *

  On the day of Operation Umberto, Carly, Matt, and I watch the van drive down Bay Street in Santa Monica. Umberto’s mom, his brother Eduardo, and Bill wait as Umberto’s chair lowers to the pavement.

  “What is this?” Umberto asks. “Some kind of surprise party?”

  perpetual

  “You could say that.” I get behind his chair and push him toward the parking lot, where Heinz wears his perpetual grin and wetsuit. He rummages through his truck and throws Umberto a suit.

  Umberto looks up, confused.

  “If you’re going surfing, you need a wetsuit. That water’s cold,” Heinz says.

  Umberto still can’t understand what’s going on.

  I hold out one of Heinz’s brochures from Access Sports. On the cover, there’s a photo of Heinz surfing with a kid with physical challenges on the front of his board.

  Umberto seems afraid. “I can’t do this,” he says. “What if I fall off? I can’t swim, never mind surf!”

  “Heinz will be out there with you,” I say. “Plus, you’ll have this.” I toss him a life jacket from Heinz’s truck.

  Umberto holds up the wetsuit. “I’m not even sure I can get this on.”

  Heinz, Matt, and I surround Umberto’s wheelchair and hold up beach towels, making a privacy screen for him to change behind.

  “It’s like putting on a pair of pants at home,” Eduardo says. “Two seconds, come on.”

  Carly and Umberto’s mother move to the front of the truck while Matt, Heinz, and I keep our towels up until Eduardo whisks them down like a magician. Umberto sits in his chair, wearing the wetsuit.

  expanse

  He grins from ear to ear until he looks toward the water and the large expanse of sand. “My chair’s not going to go on that. You guys will have to carry me.”

  “Who do you think you are, Cleopatra?” his brother asks. “You’ll have to get yourself down there.”

  “In this.” Carly comes around from the front of the truck pushing a wheelchair with giant yellow wheels as thick as tire tubes.

  Eduardo helps guide Umberto from his regular chair into the new one.

  “We use these at Access Sports,” Heinz says. “They’re not fast, but you can definitely ride on the beach.”

  Umberto’s already out of the parking lot, cruising down the boardwalk. When I catch a glimpse of his mother, I see she has tears in her eyes. When she notices me looking at her, she wipes her cheeks with her hands. “Umberto hasn’t been to the ocean in years,” she says. “He used to love the beach as a baby.”

  procession

  The new wheelchair gets stuck a few times, but Umberto manages to keep going. Like some kind of beach procession, the rest of us follow him down to the water’s edge. Heinz has him sit forward in the chair while he adjusts the life jacket.

  Heinz explains they’re going to paddle out together on his longboard. “We’ll wait for just the right wave, then I’m going to stand on the back of the board and you’re going to lie across the front.”

  “Like a boogie board,” Carly interjects.

  passion

  “If you fall off, don’t worry—the vest will keep you afloat, and I’ll be right there to grab you.” It’s obvious Heinz is not just some crazy hippie surfer but someone who spends time sharing his passion with others physically less able. It makes me see what Carly’s liked about her instructor all along.

  While we’re getting ready for Umberto to go out, I notice Carly scanning the waves. I don’t have to ask who she’s looking for. She blushes when she spots me.

  “He already has another girlfriend,” she says.

  “She’s probably not half as great as you are.” Before the sentence leaves my mouth, I already regret it, especially with Matt so close by to tease me.

  good-natured

  Carly gives me a good-natured punch in the arm. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better.” She picks up her
board and heads into the water behind Heinz and Umberto.

  Matt and I stand on the shore and watch Heinz guiding the board out as Umberto paddles through the waves.

  “He’s got amazing upper-body strength from being in that chair,” Eduardo says. “I bet he’s not even sore tomorrow.”

  reassuringly

  Umberto’s mother seems happy and nervous at the same time. When a large wave sneaks up on them, Umberto almost gets knocked off but Heinz holds the board firmly and Umberto stays on. Umberto’s mom grabs Eduardo’s arm; he pats her reassuringly.

  “Heinz is amazing in the water,” I tell her. “He’s been surfing his whole life. You’ll see.”

  gracefully

  We watch Heinz gracefully climb onto the board without upsetting Umberto. Carly sits on her board nearby, the three of them chatting as they wait for just the right wave. I no longer regret telling Carly how great she is. Looking at her now, drenched in sunshine and saltwater, she seems about as perfect as a girl can be.

  drenched

  “They’re going to grab that next one,” Matt says. “You just watch.”

  In the few times Matt and I have been surfing, he’s been better at reading the waves. I pretty much just go along with what Heinz says but Matt has a real feel for it. Sure enough, Heinz and Carly start shouting to Umberto to paddle.