Always Dance with a Hairy Buffalo

by Lin Oliver

  “Yeah, I knew that,” the Hoove said, even though he didn’t. “I’m very partial to lions. I think it’s super cool to save them, the kind that live in the sea. You can be late for me anytime doing that kind of stuff. Anyway, the important thing is that we have some time now to get to know each other.”

  “Oh, I am so sorry, Hoover,” Anacapa said. “Actually, I have to go back to the beach to see how the bird is doing, so I can’t stay. But why don’t you come with me?”

  “That’s a great idea. But … um …”

  The Hoove hesitated. The last thing he wanted to tell Anacapa was that he couldn’t go with her because he was grounded for being an irresponsible ghost. She was the opposite of irresponsible. She was a hero, flying around California saving birds and sea lions and the land itself. And how had he spent his morning? Playing video games in the mall and sniffing chocolate doughnuts.

  “Come on, Hoover,” she was saying. “We just have to fly over the mountains and we will be at the Santa Monica Beach. We can be there in five minutes if you know how to hyperglide.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s exactly the problem,” the Hoove said, relieved that she had given him an excuse. “My hyperglide mechanism is temporarily in the shop. The Higher-Ups are making some adjustments on the hyper part. Or maybe it’s the glide part. In any case, I have to take a rain check on the beach trip.”

  “So then I won’t see you tonight, either?” Anacapa asked. “Your friend Billy said you were coming to the Native American Night celebration at the museum.”

  “Oh, I am. I’m just coming slowly.”

  “Good, because it is going to be a wonderful night, full of people learning about my culture. And Billy has finally learned his dance. He has a right and a left foot now.”

  “This I got to see.”

  “Good,” Anacapa said, flashing Hoover her beautiful, glowing smile. “We can enjoy the celebration together, then. It will be a wonderful way for you to get to know me and what is important to me. That is what true friendship is based on.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Then I will see you tonight at seven. At the museum. I will be waiting for you in the diorama, in my place next to the hairy buffalo. Do you promise me you will be there?”

  “Do I promise?” the Hoove said. “Does a zebra have stripes? Does an elephant have a trunk? Is water wet? Does a fire have flames?”

  Anacapa laughed. The sound of her laughter mingled with the wind and flew in and out of the Hoove’s ears, making him very dizzy, in a good kind of way.

  “I understand from what you are saying,” she said, “that the answer is yes.”

  “You can make that yes with a capital Y,” the Hoove answered. “I promise.”

  “Until tonight, then, Hoover Porterhouse the Third.”

  She smiled at him, and then spiraled into the air so quickly that all he could see was the fringe on her animal-skin cape as it sailed westward to the ocean.

  After Anacapa left, the Hoove felt like a new person. He was positively bursting with anticipation about the celebration that night. He would watch Billy dance, and enjoy seeing all the Chumash crafts and foods. And most of all, he and Anacapa would laugh together like best friends do.

  He turned up to the sky and called out.

  “Okay, guys. The time has come. I have proven myself a worthy and responsible ghost. Now it’s your turn to deliver. Can I go to the museum tonight? I’m waiting to hear that big YES.”

  There was no answer from above.

  “Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” he called, “so let me re-utter the question.”

  Before he could get the words out of his mouth, the door to the mall swung open and Clyde came out, pushing his janitor’s cart. As he passed by the Hoove, one of the green garbage bags opened up and an empty box of popcorn fell out at his feet. The Hoove reached down and picked it up, inspecting the butter stains on the inside.

  It couldn’t be true, but it was.

  As he stared at those buttery marks, the Hoove realized that the trail they left on the cardboard spelled out a word.

  And that word was NO.

  By six o’clock that night, Billy had gotten himself into a state of panic. He was rushing around his room, filled with excitement about the performance that was now only an hour away. The Hoove was the exact opposite of excited. He was miserable and feeling very sorry for himself.

  “Hoove,” Billy said. “Have you seen my two eagle feathers? I remember putting them right here on my desk.”

  “Perhaps they flew away,” he answered grimly. “They’re probably looking for the eagle tail they fell out of.”

  Billy put on the beige T-shirt that he and Ruby had each decided to wear, and looked at himself in the mirror.

  “Hey, Hoove, does this beige shirt actually look like skin? It’s supposed to.”

  The Hoove didn’t even look up. He was flopped on the bed, lying facedown.

  “The Chumash men danced bare chested,” Billy went on, “but when you have a chest like mine, which curves in instead of out, you’re not exactly wild about letting everyone see it. You know what I mean?”

  The Hoove picked up his head just enough to study Billy in his beige shirt.

  “Let me just say this. If you’re going for the Chinese hairless dog look, you’ve got it down.”

  Billy finished tucking his shirt into his beige pants, which were also supposed to look like skin, then turned around to face the Hoove.

  “Listen, Hoove,” he said. “You’re my buddy, and I’m really sorry you can’t come tonight. Believe me, I wish you could be there. Is there anything you want me to tell Anacapa?”

  “Yeah, tell her it was nice knowing her.”

  “You’ll see her again, Hoove. This isn’t your last chance.”

  “Listen, Billy Boy. I’ve been around a lot longer than you. And as an observer of the human being, this is what I know for sure. Female humans do not take kindly to people who don’t keep their word. Especially this particular Chumash princess. She flies all over Southern California saving little birdies, big birdies, even lions that swim in the sea. She is a serious person who keeps her serious promises. And here I am, flaking out on my promise to her for the second time. That does not bode well for a long-standing friendship.”

  “Don’t you think she’d understand, Hoove?”

  “Yeah, she’d understand all right. That she can’t count on Hoover Porterhouse the Third.”

  There was a knock on the door of Billy’s room.

  “I’m coming!” Billy called. “Be right there.”

  “Get a move on, Chief Yellow Snow,” Breeze yelled from the other side of the door. “Mom says we have to get in the van now. Bennett is already hysterical about not being able to find a good parking space.”

  “Two more seconds, Breeze. I’m just putting some eagle feathers into my hair.”

  “Tell me I didn’t hear that,” Breeze muttered to herself as she trotted back down the hall.

  Even though he was excited for the evening, Billy was finding it hard to leave the Hoove behind. The Hoove wasn’t even able to put up a brave front. He looked so sad and dejected, stretched out on Billy’s bed like a lifeless blob. Billy put a few more things into his backpack, and hesitated before opening the door to go join his family.

  “It’s not fair, is it, Hoove?” he said quietly. “That you can’t go.”

  “Fair isn’t even in the neighborhood, my friend. I did every good deed I could think of, and then some. Carried groceries, picked up trash, washed the car. I even helped a man get promoted. What more can a guy do to get their approval?”

  Billy didn’t have an answer, but the Hoove did.

  “I could make stuff up. I could promise them that I’m going to devote my life to working with Bennett to discover a cure for tooth decay.”

  “Except that you don’t know the first thing about teeth,” Billy pointed out.

  “Well, then, I could promise to single-handedly remove every pie
ce of used chewing gum from underneath school desks. How’s that for an idea?”

  “Hoove, stop.” Billy held up his hand so the Hoove would stop talking and listen for once. “There’s something else you could do, and it’s really simple.”

  “Please, Mr. All-Knowing. Enlighten me.”

  “You could tell the Higher-Ups the truth,” Billy said. “Just the plain, simple truth.”

  “I’m not following you, Billy Boy.”

  “That you’re lonely here and that you really want to make a friend.”

  “That is a very embarrassing thing to admit, Billy Boy. Hoover Porterhouse does not play that way.”

  “I know you think that way, Hoove. But let me tell you what happened with Ruby. You told me not to tell her the truth, to pretend that I was a great dancer and all full of confidence and charm and stuff. When I did that, all that happened was that I stomped all over her feet. When I finally confessed that I had two left feet and was totally embarrassed about it, she understood and helped me learn the dance. Telling her the truth worked.”

  Suddenly, the door to Billy’s room burst open and his mother’s head appeared.

  “Who are you talking to, honey?” she asked.

  “Uh … I was just rehearsing my lines for tonight, Mom.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know you had a speaking part.”

  “I don’t, but just in case they call on me to explain exactly how fine the Chumash ground their acorns, I want to be ready.”

  Billy’s mom looked a little puzzled. It wasn’t the first time her son had offered up a strange explanation for his behavior. But there wasn’t time to get into that. They had freeways to drive, a parking space to find, and a performance to attend.

  “Come along right now,” she said to Billy. “Bennett and Breeze are already in the car. I’ll grab your backpack.”

  Billy glanced back at the Hoove, who was floating above the bed now and gazing sadly out the window at the car in the driveway.

  “Give it your best shot,” Billy whispered to him.

  “Honestly, honey,” Billy’s mom said. “Carrying a backpack isn’t that hard. I don’t think I need to give it my best shot.”

  And she was out the door, with Billy following close behind.

  That left the Hoove alone, all alone. For the first time in his life as a ghost, he felt defeated. He was out of ideas, out of clever plans, out of complicated schemes. The only one left was Billy’s. Tell the truth.

  “Give it your best shot,” he repeated to himself. “Okay, Billy Boy, here goes nothing.”

  He took off his plaid cap, rolled it up, and stuffed it in the back pocket of his knickers. Straightening his hair and adjusting his suspenders, he floated to the middle of the room, took a breath, looked skyward, and began to speak.

  “Okay, Mr. Higher-Ups. Or maybe there’s some Ms. Higher-Ups also. Anyway, whoever you are, I need you to hear me now. I have been trying to be what you want me to be for ninety-nine years. And in both life years and ghost years, that’s a loooong time. And the thing is, I never get your complete approval, even though I’m trying my best down here. What is it with you guys … or gals?”

  He waited for an answer but none came.

  “It’s like you expect me to be perfect,” he went on, “but I’m here to tell you, there is no such thing as perfection. Well, I come close, I must admit.”

  The Hoove stopped to enjoy his little joke, until he realized he was laughing alone.

  “Seriously, folks, it’s lonely down here. Sure, you sent me to Billy, and he’s a really good guy. But he’s human. He’s going to grow up. Go to high school. Get a date for prom. Go to college and live in a dorm with lots of other kids. Move out of this house, leaving me here surrounded by the same four walls because I never seem to get it right. And now I’m not asking for that much. I have a chance to make a friend, who’s a ghost like me. Who can be my friend for all eternity. And what do you do?”

  Again, he waited for an answer. And again, none came.

  “I’ll tell you what you do. You block me at every turn. I know that sometimes I mess up. I don’t finish a task or do everything that I promised to do. But I’m asking you to look at the whole me, the me that is trying to be the best ghost I can be. And if you do, you will see that I have earned the right to go to the museum for one night. Is that asking so much?”

  The Hoove stood there with his transparent arms outstretched and waited for a sign.

  “Come on,” he pleaded. “I meant what I said. Give a guy a break!”

  He glanced around for a sign, any sign. But all he saw was the twilight as it came through the window and silently cast a soft purple glow over Billy’s room.

  By the time Billy and his family arrived at the Natural History Museum, it was swarming with people. All the middle school parents had turned out to watch their kids perform in the Native American Night celebration. The old gray-haired guard stood outside the front door, waving his arms like a windmill in a hurricane, desperately trying to direct the cluster of parents who were competing for the best parking spaces.

  The Broccoli-Fieldings sat in their car, impatiently waiting to get into the parking lot. Billy’s mom was wringing her hands nervously.

  “I’m supposed to introduce the evening,” she said. “It simply won’t do for me to be the last one to arrive. Billy, I wish you hadn’t taken so long to get ready. Now we’re going to be late.”

  “The youngster had a lot to do,” Breeze said. “It takes time to stand in your room talking to yourself. You don’t want to rush a thing like that.”

  “I was not talking to myself,” Billy insisted. “I was talking to my hair, trying to get it to cooperate with the eagle feathers.”

  “That is so weird, I’d actually prefer that you had been talking to yourself,” Breeze said. “It’s way less crazy.”

  Luckily, Bennett’s very sharp vision (perfected from years of looking into the small crevices of his patients’ teeth) allowed him to spot a woman hurrying to her car several spaces behind them.

  “I’m going to get that space,” he said excitedly. “I just have to back up a little so she can pull out.”

  Bennett put the car in reverse and was just about to back up, when there was a tapping on his driver’s side window. He rolled the window down and a huge buffalo head with two angry horns poked its way into the car.

  “You’re in violation of Division 11, Section 23109.2, of the California Vehicle Code,” the buffalo face said. “Driving in reverse in heavy traffic. I’m going to have to issue you a citation.”

  “Rod,” Billy called out from the backseat. “Get your horns out of our car and go find your herd.”

  Rod lifted up the flap on his buffalo mask to reveal his sweaty face.

  “How’d you know it was me?”

  “Maybe because you’re the only buffalo on the planet who knows the California Vehicle Code by heart,” Breeze said.

  “You got a point.” Rod nodded. “Nevertheless, Dr. Fielding, I’m going to have to write you up.”

  “Rod, we’re due inside immediately,” Mrs. Broccoli-Fielding said, using her principal’s voice to make it perfectly clear that this conversation was not going to continue. “You certainly don’t want anyone to miss seeing that buffalo mask you must have worked very hard on. Bennett, I’ll take the children inside while you park.” Then, lowering her voice, she added, “In that primo space right behind us.”

  “Where will I meet you?” Bennett asked while his wife was ushering Billy and Breeze out of the car.

  “In the California Hall of History where the dioramas are,” Billy called out to him. “Right next to the hairy buffalo.” Then, looking over at Rod, he added, “And I’m not referring to you.”

  “Hey, I’m as hairy as any other buffalo,” Rod complained.

  But no one was listening. Billy and Breeze, led by Mrs. Bennett-Fielding, were hurrying up the steps and into the museum. By the time they got to the California Hall of History, most of the parent
s were already seated in the rows of plastic folding chairs the museum staff had put out for the performance. The chairs were placed in a semicircle near the Chumash diorama, creating a stage area right in front of it. The glass windows that covered the diorama had been pulled aside so that the audience could get a clear view of the Chumash village and see the statues of the men digging out their canoe and the woman mashing acorns with her baby on her back. Off to one side, the hairy buffalo stood grazing amid the long grasses, and next to him a motionless Anacapa appeared, as still as a wax figure.

  While Billy’s mom rushed up to the podium to prepare for her introductory remarks, Billy wandered over to Anacapa and stared intently into her face.

  “Can you hear me?” he whispered.

  “Yes, Billy, I can,” said a voice right in back of him. He wheeled around to see Ruby Baker smiling at him. She was wearing her matching beige T-shirt and eagle feathers in her hair.

  “Oh, Ruby. I didn’t know you were here.”

  “You didn’t? Then who were you talking to?”

  Billy hesitated. He couldn’t use the old “I’m just rehearsing my lines” excuse with Ruby, because she knew he didn’t have any lines. Fortunately, though, he didn’t have to come up with any explanation at all, because their conversation was interrupted by Mr. Wallwetter approaching them. He was wearing a large, feathered Native American war bonnet. Because his head was too small for his body, it looked like an overweight peacock had landed on top of him.

  “I’ve been asked to have the whole class sit down in front of the stage area,” Mr. Wallwetter said. “After the principal’s introduction, we will begin with the oral presentations, followed by the basket weaving and archery demonstrations. Our grand finale will be the music and dance portion of the show.”

  “Come on, Billy,” Ruby said with a smile. “Let’s sit together.”

  “Why don’t you save me a place, Ruby. I’ll be right there. I just want to take another minute to study the diorama.”

  “Wow, Billy. I’m so impressed with how seriously you’re taking this whole Native American Night.”