Hit the Road, Manny: A Manny Files Novel

by Christian Burch

  I laughed and made sure the JUST MARRIED sign was well hidden underneath me. Belly said that she needed to go to the bathroom, so we stopped at a convenience store. Mom didn’t want to unpack the luggage from the RV bathroom. We all went inside in our pajamas, except for Mom and Dad. They were dressed. Dad pulled next to a pump and got out to get gas.

  Inside the store India picked out a bag of Smartfood to buy. Lulu had a V8 in her hands. She loves tomato juice. I tried it once because tomato juice seems so grown-up, but it didn’t taste like juice at all. It tasted like cold soup and dirt. Belly and Mom were in the bathroom. We could hear Belly singing, “‘Stacy’s mom has got it going on…’” through the thin fake-wood door. That song is on one of India’s Now CDs, and Belly loves it. Belly sings when she’s on the toilet like it’s a stage. The manny says that Céline Dion probably does the same thing. Then he imitated Céline Dion: “‘I drove all night to get to you….’” Then he stopped and yelled in a fake French accent, “René plez bring me zum toy-let pa-pear. We are out in zee upztairs restroom!” René is Céline’s husband, who looks like a teddy bear.

  Lulu grumbled and followed India over to the glass-door refrigerators to look for drinks. India wanted an orange Fanta.

  The manny and I went to the candy section. He picked up a candy necklace and said, “Oh, Keats, this would look gorgeous with your coloring.”

  I started to laugh and grab a Fun Dip to say, “Hey, are you havin’ fun, dip?” when I noticed two teenage boys standing at the end of the candy aisle holding pouches of the bubble gum that looks like chewing tobacco. They were whispering to each other and glancing at us, laughing. I smiled and thought how I wanted to be like the manny because he can even make strangers laugh. Then I noticed that the boys weren’t smiling, but were rolling their eyes. They were making fun of the manny. I looked at him. He did look silly in his pajamas, but we were all in our pajamas.

  I looked around, wishing the manny could just blend in better and not attract attention.

  The manny didn’t seem to notice the boys, or if he did, he ignored them. He just stood there in his pajamas scanning the aisles. “Ahh,” he screamed. “Milanos!” And he grabbed a bag of Pepperidge Farm cookies.

  “Shhh!” I shushed him, trying to get him to talk more quietly.

  The two boys elbowed each other and mumbled something about the manny. They stared at him and then at me. One of them said, “What a queer!”

  I moved to the chip aisle. I pretended to be looking for a snack, but I was really trying to move away from the manny so that the two boys wouldn’t think I was with him. The manny followed me into the chip aisle, so I quickly went into the magazine aisle. The manny followed me. He picked up a copy of the Enquirer, pointed at the cover picture, and said, “EGAD! That’s the same extraterrestrial that abducted me about two months ago!”

  Normally, I would have laughed, but the two boys were imitating the manny, only they were making him sound like a six-year-old little girl with a high voice.

  “Egad! Ha, ha, ha!” And they threw their hands up in the air like they had seen a mouse on the ground.

  Before I could control it, I blurted out at the manny, “Stop it, you’re embarrassing me!”

  The manny didn’t say anything. He tilted his head back and looked around and noticed the two boys that were flapping their hands. When he looked back at me, his face was whiter than usual.

  I fled from the store past the two boys and out to the RV. Dad had a squeegee and was washing the big front window of the RV. I climbed in, sat in my seat, and buckled my seat belt, ready to leave. My ears were throbbing and felt like they were burning red. They felt just like they had the time that I was walking down the hallway at school and a pair of Mom’s underwear fell out of the pant leg of my jeans. They had gotten static cling in the dryer and clung to the inside of my jeans. Sarah picked them up and folded them and put them in my backpack. The next day she brought me a Victoria’s Secret catalog to “pick out what I wanted for my birthday.” She laughed until her eyes were watering. I pointed out the lip-shaped cinnamon mints and asked her to order me two boxes.

  Mom, Belly, India, Lulu, and the manny walked out of the store just as I reached up to feel how hot my ears were. The manny did look silly in his pajamas. The two boys had come outside too and were still staring at the manny. They had Red Bulls and gum tobacco pouches in their hands. Belly was on the manny’s shoulders, and the two of them were scream-singing, “Lulu’s mom has got it going on!” I wished the manny could just be normal and not always have to be so funny. But Lulu and India were laughing, and Mom was walking like a supermodel and wiggling her bottom. India calls that kind of walk “shaking your junk.” I wanted to disappear but at the same time wished I were out there laughing with them. I can really shake my junk.

  They climbed into the RV and settled into their seats. Belly had a Ring Pop on and was admiring it like she had just gotten engaged. She had her hand held out in front of her and was moving it so she could get a look at the big red jewel from all angles. The manny handed me a package of Red Vines and a Country Time lemonade. He also handed me a stack of postcards.

  “I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” he said. “Sometimes I go over the top. That’s what my dad used to say to me all the time. He used to tell me that I needed to tone it down. I used to embarrass him, too. I’ll try to tone it down out in public.”

  I thought about apologizing, but I just sat there silently sipping my lemonade through a licorice straw that I had made by biting both ends off of a Red Vine. The manny taught me that trick.

  The manny looked out the window and opened up his bag of Milano cookies and started to eat one.

  “Mmmm,” he said in an unenthusiastic, unmannylike way.

  12Dancing Queen

  After I finished my Red Vines and lemonade, I tried to think of something funny to say to the manny so he would know I wasn’t mad at him or so he would forgive me for hurting his feelings. We were in Iowa, and I saw a green sign that said WATERLOO—3 MILES AHEAD on it. I unbuckled my seat belt and rifled through Mom’s book of CDs. I found the ABBA CD right in between Paul Simon’s Graceland and Guns N’ Roses’ Appetite for Destruction.

  I put ABBA in the CD player and turned it up really loud. Mom, who was driving, got it immediately. She rolled down all the automatic windows. She must have caught on to what I was doing. Mom’s always one step ahead.

  “Waterloo—I was defeated, you won the war. Waterloo—promise to love you for ever more. Waterloo—couldn’t escape if I wanted to.”

  The people walking on the sidewalks in Waterloo stared at us like we were a group of escaped convicts. Mom started seat dancing. She was even swerving a little back and forth to the music, like the whole RV was dancing. Soon we were all seat dancing. The music was so loud that we barely heard the police sirens.

  When Mom noticed the flashing red lights in her rearview mirror, she quickly turned off the music and pulled over to the right side of the road.

  The RV was completely quiet except for Belly, who went, “OOOOOOH!” like the kids do at school when the secretary comes on the loudspeaker and calls kids down to the principal’s office. The kids in my class made that sound last April when the secretary said over the loudspeaker, “Keats Dalinger, please report to the principal’s office immediately. Keats Dalinger, please report to the principal’s office immediately.” The secretary always repeats herself.

  I had forgotten my lunch, and the manny delivered it to me. Later, at recess, Craig asked if I had gotten in trouble. I lied and told him yes because I thought it made me sound tougher. When he asked what I had gotten in trouble for, I panicked and told him that I had been caught taking caffeine pills so that I could stay up and study for tests. It didn’t really happen to me. It happened to Jessie Spano on Saved by the Bell. Craig just looked at me funny and ran off to play kickball. Sarah told me that she had seen that rerun of Saved by the Bell too.

  Belly was still making the “Oooooh” noise w
hen the police officer walked up to Mom’s rolled-down window. Lulu shushed her. She did it so hard that spit came flying out of her mouth, and Belly had to wipe her face off with her hands. Her “Oooooh” turned into an “Ewwwww!”

  The police officer had on aviator sunglasses that he didn’t take off. His buttoned up shirt stretched tight across his stomach, and his farmer-tanned arms had big muscles. A farmer tan is when you have sleeve marks on your arms from the sun. Dad gets them when he plays golf. When he takes his shirt off, he still looks like he has one on, except for his nipples.

  “Do you know how fast you were going, ma’am?” the officer asked.

  “She was going forty-seven miles per hour, sir!” I shot my head up between the front seats of the RV to inform the police officer. I had looked at the speedometer right when I heard the police siren. Mom turned to me and glared, so I sat back in my seat.

  “You do know that this is a thirty-five-mile-per-hour zone, don’t you?”

  “I’m sorry, Officer,” said Mom. “We were listening to ABBA, and the excitement took control of me. It will never happen again.”

  The officer didn’t even smile when Mom tried to use ABBA as an excuse for speeding. He said, “You’re right. It won’t happen again,” and he asked to see her license and registration.

  Just then Belly ran up to the front of the RV and said in her most amazed voice, “ARE YOU A REAL POLICE GUY?” She climbed on Mom’s lap, ignoring the authority that police officers have. She tried to touch his shiny badge with her pointer finger, but Mom slapped her hand away softly.

  That didn’t stop Belly. She reached out the window and tried to take the police officer’s sunglasses off of him.

  I could see Mom squeezing the back of Belly’s neck, trying to get her to stop.

  “I am a real police officer, young lady. What’s your name?”

  “MIRABELLE, BUT CALL ME BELLY.”

  “Because you’re as cute as a button?” the officer said, trying to make a belly button joke. It wasn’t funny, but we all laughed really loudly like he was Jim Carrey making faces. India even slapped her knee and pretended to be brought to tears with laughter. We thought it might help Mom get out of a speeding ticket if we laughed at all the officer’s jokes.

  It worked. The officer told Mom to put away her license and registration and gave her a warning. His name was Renny. I’ve never met anyone named Renny before. I think it must be short for Renaldo or Renegade. We ended up standing on the side of the road, still in our pajamas, taking a picture of Belly with the policeman in front of his police car. Belly on the police officer’s shoulders. Belly in handcuffs leaned against the police car, pretending to be getting arrested. That’s my favorite one. I told Dad that it should be our Christmas card, with the caption “Here’s looking ahead to the future! Happy holidays from the Dalingers!”

  Officer Renny even let Belly talk over his loudspeaker.

  She said, “MOM…CRAZY DRIVER!”

  Mom laughed her nervous laugh where she tries to pretend that she’s amused. It’s the same laugh she did at the mall pet store when Belly announced to the lady who was holding a puppy for kids to pet, “PUPPIES CRAP IN THE HOUSE, RIGHT, MOM?” Belly had heard Mom tell that to India when India wanted to get a new puppy the same week we got new carpet in the living room.

  Officer Renny said good-bye to us and told Mom to watch her speedometer.

  “I will,” Mom promised, and Dad climbed into the driver’s seat.

  Officer Renny stood at the passenger-side window and said, “My favorite ABBA song is ‘Dancing Queen.’”

  Dad started the RV and changed the song to “Dancing Queen.” We pulled away as Officer Renny was dancing on the side of the road, trying to make Belly laugh through the window. Belly laughed and made the crazy sign by making circles next to her head with her finger.

  The manny looked over at me and said, “Nice going, ace! You almost got your mom jail time.” He laughed and messed up my hair, which I hadn’t brushed yet anyway. I like it when the manny calls me ace. I always call him joker.

  Dear Uncle Max (Sugar Bear),

  MOM GOT PULLED OVER BY A COP!!!!!!! There’s too much to write about it here. I’ll tell you later. We’re getting ready for bed in the RV. Lulu’s been in the bathroom forever. She says she’s moisturizing, but I think I just heard her light a match like Dad does to cover the bad smell.

  The manny wants me to send his hugs and kisses, even though Lulu says that things like that shouldn’t be written on postcards because the mailman reads them.

  Hi, Mailman. Thanks for delivering this.

  Love,

  Keats Rufus Dalinger

  Math Addict13

  After the police officer incident, Dad drove for a few more hours, while Mom stood in the little RV kitchen and made us turkey and cheddar sandwiches with tomatoes, lettuce, and mustard. She called it a “late lunch,” but it was more like dinner because it was four o’clock. The sandwiches were really good. Lulu said that it was the best one she’d ever tasted. Then she added that if Mom ever did go to jail for speeding, they’d probably make her wear a hairnet and work in the kitchen. Mom grabbed Lulu’s unopened snack bag of Fritos and crunched it in her hands as revenge for the jail comment. Lulu had to eat the chips directly from the bag like a drink. She said it’s the price you have to pay for having a quick wit. The manny agreed by nodding. He was paying the price for his quick wit by serving his punishment of silence from too many conduct marks.

  We stopped early that evening at an RV campsite that had big marked-off parking places, a fenced-in swimming pool, and a communal bathroom in the middle. There were RVs everywhere. Some were big and fancy and had striped awnings like porches. Some had clotheslines between them with drying sheets and swimsuits. One even had fake green grass around it like it was a yard, the kind of bright green plastic grass that is at miniature golf courses.

  We parked next to the green-and-blue-striped RV that had the fake yard around it. An older man in shorts and tall socks waved to us. He was hosing off his fake yard with a jet spray. His wife was grilling burgers on a small grill. She looked kind of like Grandma, except I never saw Grandma wear culottes or a tennis visor. Sitting in a folding chair next to her was a girl a little older than Belly wearing lavender corduroy overalls with a yellow T-shirt underneath. She was swinging her legs back and forth and had a serious look on her face like she was trying to figure out if her grandpa knew that the grass that he was watering was fake.

  The manny looked out the window and said, “They really should get a yard boy.”

  “Why is he watering it?” I asked.

  “DUH, SO IT WILL GROW,” Belly answered. Belly says “duh” sometimes. She learned it from Lulu.

  Dad laughed and brought the RV to a stop. Belly saw the little girl in her lavender overalls and decided she should probably change out of her pajamas. Mom says Belly is “fashion competitive” and doesn’t like it if somebody is dressed prettier than she is. Belly put on her Snow White dress that she bought at the Disney Store at the mall. She also put on her cowboy boots and her fake diamond tiara. Mom never should have let Belly pack her own bag.

  The man washing his lawn introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Grant. This is my wife, Dana,” he said, pointing to the woman in the culottes and tennis visor. “And this young beauty is our granddaughter, Harmony. She just spilled her entire Gatorade on the AstroTurf.” When Grant said this, he sprayed the green AstroTurf one last time, and I could see orange Gatorade running off the side and into the dirt.

  The little girl in the lavender overalls waved to us with a Barbie that was in her hand. It wasn’t really Barbie. It was Skipper, Barbie’s little sister. You can tell them apart because Skipper has bangs and tan lines and Barbie doesn’t. I only know because India used to play with Barbies and she told me. And sometimes I used to play with her. I was in charge of running the household, cleaning and running the kids to school. India called me Barbie’s butler.

  Grant shook
all of our hands and said, “Welcome to the neighborhood.” And then he laughed like he’d said something really funny. Dana called him “a kidder” and offered us chocolate chip cookies out of a square Tupperware container. They looked really good and smelled like butter, but they tasted like refrigerator burn, like they had been in the freezer too long and had to be chipped out of the ice. I didn’t say anything. I just ate it politely like Mom taught me. I’ve always been polite, but Mom says that sometimes my politeness needs direction. When I was six, I went to my friend Elliot’s birthday party. His mother made carrot cake. When she offered me a piece, I said, “Oh, no, thank you. It looks wonderful, but it sounds awful.” I wasn’t invited to Elliot’s seventh birthday party. I didn’t care. Sarah told me that Elliot’s mother made a pecan pie that year. Poor Elliot. I bet his mother gives out toothbrushes or ginger chews at Halloween.

  Belly walked up to the little girl in the lavender overalls and smiled and waited to be greeted. That’s how Belly introduces herself. She walks up and waits to be talked to, admired, or bowed to.

  The little girl held her hand out to shake and said, “My name is Harmony Patricia Draper, and this is Popcorn.” Harmony pointed to a brand-new red tricycle. “My mommy gave Popcorn to me.”

  I’ve never heard of anybody naming a tricycle, but I guess Popcorn’s a pretty good name if you’re going to do it. I would have named it Linus. It looked more like a Linus than a Popcorn.

  Belly said, “I LIKE YOUR HAIR,” and pointed to Harmony’s hair, which had about ten plastic hair clips in it. They weren’t holding her hair back. They were just clipped in randomly. A pink one was right above her forehead. An orange one was by her ear. And a blue one was at the very bottom of one of her three ponytails.

  India said that Harmony’s hair was a Glamour Do because she was five. She said if Lulu had the same hairdo, it would be a Glamour Don’t. I laughed at the thought of Lulu with three ponytails and lots of hair clips.