by John Lekich
That night, I went to sleep in the brand-new spare room and thought about what would make a grown man work at Top Kow Burgers. I guess when you have a family, you have to make all sorts of humiliating sacrifices. But when all was said and done, you knew you were doing the right thing.
I thought about how the people of Snowflake Falls would remember me after I ran off with Uncle Andy to Arizona. Because I felt a little guilty, I began to hang out with George at his gramma’s house. We watched a few of his favorite DVDs. I even called him Speed once in a while.
George’s gramma was very happy to have me visit. “You’re the first person he’s ever brought to the house, Henry,” she said.
George just grinned at his gramma and said, “I told you he’d come. That’s how the Big H rolls.” After that he started to call me Big H all the time. As in, “Pass the pretzels, Big H.”
I guess, when it was all over, George would have a few other names for me. Like traitor and turncoat and a bunch of others I’d rather not contemplate. Then I started to think about Charlotte and how disappointed she would be. But maybe there was a way I could leave a taste of something good behind. Something that people would remember so they’d know I wasn’t a totally bad guy.
I began to run through a short list of the most humiliating things that could happen to me. Then after a while, I stopped. Because I knew exactly what I had to do.
SIXTEEN
It took me a while. But finally I went up to Charlotte and said, “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Do what?” she asked suspiciously.
“I’ll let you give me a haircut.”
I could tell Charlotte’s previous experience at haircutting had left her skeptical. “And you won’t run away until I tell you I’m finished?” she asked.
“I promise,” I said, feeling a drop of sweat ease its way down my scalp. “You can even make me look like that Roman soldier if you want.”
“You mean it?” she asked, all excited. “You’d do that for me?”
“Sure,” I said. “Knock yourself out.”
I thought maybe Charlotte would give me a bit of time to get used to the idea. But it turned out that she’d been waiting to use her new home-barber kit for quite some time. Plus, Harrison was at the store and Theodora was taking Oscar to an afternoon appointment with the pediatrician. “I think it might be best if we took advantage of the fact that we won’t be interrupted,” said Charlotte.
Charlotte turned her bedroom into a temporary hair salon. I sat in her pink desk chair while she put a plastic cape around my neck and covered her pink rug with newspaper. Unfortunately, I had an excellent view of some of the old dolls she had practiced her styling skills on. They looked like their hair had been pulled out by the roots before being pasted back on in the dark.
Not that Charlotte didn’t have an interesting technique. It involved her opening the big book of haircuts and peering intently at the guy who looked like the Roman soldier. She started to make cutting motions with her scissors in midair, getting closer and closer to my actual scalp while looking at the picture in the book.
“Oww!” I said. “Watch my ear!”
“I haven’t even touched you yet,” she protested.
“Sorry, I thought I felt something.”
“Don’t talk. I have to concentrate to make sure both sides are symmetrical.”
Charlotte moved her scissors back from my head and then zeroed in while snipping at a fast clip. Sort of like an airplane getting ready to land on the runway. I guess the scissors must have touched down eventually, because the next thing I knew there was a big pile of my hair on the newspaper. “I’m going to get the hand mirror now,” said Charlotte. Like she was warning me to be prepared for a major change in appearance.
I thought I was ready for anything. But nothing could have prepared me for the image I saw in Charlotte’s pink hand mirror. I looked like a guy who had accidentally thrown himself into the path of lawn mower that had managed to confuse his hair for a clump of grass. Looking into the mirror was a frightening thing. But, for some reason, I could not bring myself to look away.
“What do you think?” asked Charlotte, all eager for my opinion.
I put down the mirror and looked at the anticipation of my happy reply on her eager barber’s face. I wanted to tell Charlotte that it was the most horrible haircut I had ever experienced in all my years of haircuts. I wanted to tell her that the only reason she should pick up scissors again was to cut open a bag of potato chips.
Then I remembered that I was going to leave town in a moving van filled with Christmas presents that didn’t belong to me. Charlotte was going to think such terrible things that not even the fact I was never going to see her again could make up for it. With this in mind, I swallowed hard and thought about what to tell her. “I think the raw talent is there,” I finally managed. “No question about that.”
“I know it’s a little uneven in spots,” she admitted. “Maybe I should touch it up a bit.”
“No, no,” I urged. “I look Roman enough!”
“You really think so?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah,” I lied. “All that’s missing is a gladiator’s sword.” Then I took off the little plastic cape and said, “I almost feel like I should pay you.”
“Thank you, Henry.”
“For what?” I asked. “It’ll probably all grow back.” I shouldn’t have mentioned that last part, but Charlotte didn’t notice. She was too busy getting choked up. “You have proven yourself to be a true and faithful friend, Henry Holloway. I’ll never forget you as long as I live.”
All I could think of was that Charlotte was probably right. Even though there would come a time when she’d like to forget I ever existed.
It was not easy to go out in public the next day. The first thing Uncle Andy said when he saw me was, “What the heck happened to your hair?”
“It’s a long story,” I replied. I guess Uncle Andy didn’t want to hear it. Mostly because he had the whole plan for the Boxing Day robbery weighing heavily on his mind.
Uncle Andy told me that, once they pulled off the job, they would get out of Snowflake Falls as fast as possible. They planned to rent a big moving van in order to haul away everything they stole. In a few days, they would send me some money and let me know where to meet them in Vancouver. “After that, we are all off to Arizona,” he said. “Where the only thing we’ll have to worry about is having enough suntan lotion.”
My uncle knew I’d be busy at the sing-along with Harley Howard and would be unable to be any help during the robbery. He told me I’d helped enough by getting the combination to Harley’s security alarm. “You’re doing him a big favor,” said Uncle Andy. “Except for his missing possessions, he’ll hardly know we were there.”
“What if he’s changed the security code?” I asked.
“From what you told me, he won’t,” said Uncle Andy. “He trusts you.”
While my uncle forbade me to actually participate in the robbery, he requested my technical advice on the best way to break into the houses on my paper route. “I know how your mind works, Henry,” he said. “You have been checking things out while riding your girlfriend’s bike.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I protested. Uncle Andy apologized. And then we got down to business. I told him the best way to burglarize all the customers on my paper route. I felt surprisingly bad about the whole thing. Maybe that’s why I asked Uncle Andy for a couple of special conditions.
I requested that he refrain from burglarizing the Wingates. “Done,” he said.
“And don’t touch Harley Howard’s record collection.”
Uncle Andy said, “Henry, he’s a rich guy. And rich guys always have plenty of insurance.”
“Just promise,” I said. “It’s the only thing he really cares about.”
“Okay,” said Uncle Andy solemnly. “I promise.”
I apologized for cutting down on Uncle Andy’s list of benefactors. He just shrugged. “It’s
this crazy town,” he said. “It makes you want to do the right thing against your better judgment.”
I asked him what he meant, and my uncle looked at me like he had a bad case of indigestion. “Good citizenship is spreading among my associates like some sort of terrible disease,” he complained. “Everyone is forgetting their professional obligation to be objective.”
He told me that Wally and Cookie had just given him a long list of people they couldn’t bring themselves to rob. “All of a sudden, Wally can’t steal from people who wave at him on the street, and Cookie can’t steal from the friends he made as a greeter at Biggie’s. How are we supposed to make a living?”
Uncle Andy informed me that this sudden outbreak of consideration was really cutting into the job’s profit margin. “We can still make this job work,” he said, “but I don’t mind telling you that a lot of the fun’s gone out of it.” He sighed. “Even I can’t bring myself to rob Penelope.”
I felt so sorry for my uncle that I asked if there was anything I could do.
“Just don’t tell me not to rob anybody else,” said Uncle Andy. “We can’t afford it.”
Everyone in town was preoccupied with so many different things over the holidays that I figured Christmas would pass by without much of a fuss. This was what I was used to anyway. To tell you the truth, Christmas has never been all that special to me since my mother died. I’m not blaming my Uncle Andy. The holidays are always a very busy time for him, professionally speaking. And it’s not that I don’t miss the things my mother and I would do at Christmas. She used to call them “those special holiday moments.” When she died, I figured those moments were long gone.
But thanks to the Wingates, I got more into the Christmas spirit that I ever thought possible. We drank eggnog and decorated the tree. We all had a good laugh when Oscar dumped a clump of tinsel on his head. Much to my surprise, I did really well in Christmas tips and bonuses from my paper route. Mr. Kurtz was especially generous because he said I put up with being chased down the street like a very mature individual.
We had a little after-hours Christmas party at Top Kow. Stuart and Lowell did an all-belch version of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman.” Even George thought it was very festive.
Before I knew it, it was Christmas Eve. When everyone else was asleep, I snuck downstairs using my best burglary skills and put a few presents under the Wingate Christmas tree. I looked out the window and noticed that it was starting to snow. For a few minutes, I just stood by the window and watched the thick flakes cover the ground. I couldn’t help thinking that Snowflake Falls never looked so good.
By the time I got to bed, it was quite late. Even so, it took me a long time to get to sleep. I kept worrying about whether Uncle Andy’s Boxing Day burglary spree would go off without a hitch. I finally managed to get to sleep. When I woke up, it was early Christmas morning. The door of my room was open, and Oscar was curled up asleep at the bottom corner of my bed. His mouth was wide open, and he was making soft little piglike noises.
I noticed that he was clutching something tightly in his fist. I pried his fingers open very gently and discovered that he was holding one of my long-lost earplugs.
Oscar stirred slightly and then opened his eyes before breaking into his stupidest grin. “Hen-rrry!” he shouted. I took the earplug out of his sweaty hand and wished him a Merry Christmas. Then I picked him up and carried him into the living room. Just because I felt like it.
Everybody got a lot of neat presents. And I’m happy to say that Charlotte really liked what I got her. “Springtime in Paris!” she exclaimed. “Only the most elegant perfume ever!”
“It’s slightly used,” I cautioned. I waited for Charlotte to be all disappointed. But you know what? She turned the whole thing around like it was actually an advantage.
“That’s even better,” she said. “This way your gift has a mysterious romantic history.”
“You know, it kind of does,” I answered. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you about it.”
Charlotte got me a very interesting Christmas present. It was a black bike-racing helmet like all the big-time professionals wear. And it didn’t have a single sticker on it. “I know you don’t have a bike,” she pointed out. “But the gift is really supposed to be metaphorical. Every time you look at it, I want you to remember to stay safe.” As a gesture, it was typically Charlotte. But even though the gift was only metaphorical, I really appreciated the thought.
As a joke, Theodora got me my own special pair of Wingate rocket scientist glasses. “Don’t worry, Henry,” she said, shooting me a secret look. “The lenses are just plastic.”
“Now you’re officially one of us,” said Charlotte. I put the glasses on and Mr. Wingate said he thought I looked very dignified. We took a group photo, and it looked like I fit right in. When Theodora saw how Oscar was squinting, she said, “I think we should take him to the optometrist.”
The rest of Christmas Day was surprisingly good too. I went over to George Dial’s house and watched this jet-pilot movie called Top Gun. It was way more fun than I thought it would be, even though George kept yelling, “I feel the need for speed!” every five minutes. So for his Christmas present, I told George that there was actually no Russell the rat. George was so happy that he threw his arms around me for a couple of seconds—forgetting his rule about not hugging guys unless they were mortally wounded in combat.
I even got a chance to sneak away and see Uncle Andy. He was wearing a very nice red sweater that was hand-knit for him by Ms. Pendergast. I think he felt bad because he went right out to the hardware store and got her a lamp that automatically clicked on and off when you clapped your hands.
“Do you ever wonder what Ms. Pendergast is going to think when we’re gone?” I asked.
“She’ll probably want to break the lamp I gave her over my head,” said Uncle Andy.
I asked Uncle Andy why he kept scratching at the sweater Ms. Pendergast made him. “It itches,” he said. “Plus, it’s a little too small.”
“So why don’t you take it off?”
“I will,” said Uncle Andy. But he kept right on wearing it.
You’d think after such a great day, I’d get a better night’s sleep. But I was actually quite restless. I kept thinking about the upcoming burglaries. I was glad when Boxing Day came around and I could lose myself in all the celebration.
First, there was the Wingate Boxing Day Blowout Shopping Spree. There was a pretty good crowd for the raffle. I even saw none other than Cookie Collito. I went up to him as quietly as possible and whispered, “Pardon me, but aren’t you supposed to be in plotting a burglary right now?”
Cookie looked embarrassed. “I snuck away for a few minutes,” he said. “There’s no way I was going to miss this. I bought five tickets!” I asked if there was a conflict of interest because he was a greeter at Biggie’s. Cookie shrugged. “What do I care?” he whispered. “We are bound for Arizona shortly, are we not?”
As it turned out, it was fortunate that Cookie showed up. Much to his surprise, he drew the winning ticket. “I won!” he shouted. “I won the shopping spree!” After a whole series of bells and whistles went off, a few people in the crowd slapped Cookie on the back and said, “Congratulations, Donny!”
Cookie couldn’t believe his luck. “It’s like the whole town is giving me their permission to steal,” he said.
That’s how Cookie ended up racing around the store, throwing as many things as he could into a series of shopping carts. Toasters, electric blankets, a fistful of baby clothes. Just about anything he could grab. In fact, he didn’t slow down until he came to a selection of holiday baked goods. Now, as we all know, Cookie is very particular about freshness. Even when he is getting things for free.
You may think that five minutes is not a long time. But it was long enough for Cookie to stockpile a surprising amount of free merchandise. As the grand prize winner, he had to pose for newspaper pictures with all his loot. Normally, Cookie avoids having his
picture taken at all costs. But for this special occasion, Cookie was more than happy to smile for the camera while holding a brand-new microwave oven. After that, he had to shake hands with a long line of well-wishers.
“I love this town,” said Cookie, hugging his new microwave like it was a baby. And you know something? At that moment, I think he really did.
I was very happy for Cookie, but a little nervous about attending the sing-along with Harley Howard. Even though there was quite a bit of snow on the ground, it seemed that just about everyone in town was in the square and ready to have a good time.
Even Harley had a better time than he had anticipated. He had a pretty good singing voice, and I think he missed using it. He kept nudging me in the ribs and telling me to sing louder. At one point, he said, “You know, I didn’t want to come. Now I don’t want to go home.” I imagined Harley’s mansion stripped bare of everything but his records and thought, Maybe you shouldn’t.
For me, the most awkward part of the whole evening was the unveiling of the big new sign that was going to replace the old one just outside of town. It had the new winning slogan on it: Welcome to Snowflake Falls. Where Life Is As Friendly As Your Next-Door Neighbor. The winner of the contest was none other than Ms. Penelope Pendergast who kept looking around for someone. My best guess? Uncle Andy.
I didn’t know any of the following details until later when my uncle explained everything in a letter he wrote. It was a very long letter. I think Uncle Andy was still trying to figure out how everything went so wrong. I had to read it several times. Because every time I read it, I was even more surprised than the last time.
Here’s what happened. At the time of the getaway, Uncle Andy was busy being nervous about driving the big moving van. Probably because it was full of stolen goods. He was even was more nervous about missing the ferry. So I guess that’s why a couple of very unfortunate things happened. First, they had a flat tire. And then they got stuck in the snow. By the time they got everything fixed, they had missed the ferry.