by Sara Cassidy
“You look nice,” Anneline whispers from her desk. Then her eyes stick on Evelyn’s near-runners.
Evelyn guesses the shoes don’t match her green dress. Or maybe Anneline is staring at the knob of thread on the right toe. While mending, Evelyn got the idea to make room for her toe rather than simply shut the hole, so she created a kind of bubble, like a sideways hammock.
Who else is invited to Queen’s party? Evelyn looks around the classroom. She doubts Parker or Connor were invited. They have started breaking Queen’s pencils. They press the nibs against his desk until the pencil leads snap. They shoot across the desk and end up on the floor. Sometimes kids step on the nibs and leave black streaks on the floor tiles.
Parker and Connor even took Queen’s lunch once. Right out of his backpack.
“You should tell Mr. Zhang,” Evelyn told him.
“It’s okay. I tell my parents all about it,” he said. Then he laughed. “Parker and Connor are going to be surprised by what’s in the Tupperware. Brussels sprouts and a quinoa burrito.”
Evelyn doesn’t like Brussels sprouts. They taste like her fingers taste after she’s held her house key for a while.
When the buzzer sounds at the end of the day, Queen and Evelyn set off together straight from the classroom. Usually they meet at the corner.
In the schoolyard, Parker and Connor are at the bicycle rack that looks to Evelyn like a giant half-submerged potato masher.
Parker sees them first.
“Here comes the queen!” he sings, lifting an imaginary trumpet into the air and squawking a royal fanfare.
“And,” Connor pronounces, looking at Evelyn, “her lady in waiting.”
Evelyn flushes with heat. She’s embarrassed. She trembles. She’s angry. But she’s not mad at Connor and Parker. She’s mad at Queen! This is his fault. If he didn’t have such a strange name. If he wore clothes like everyone else, and didn’t start clubs.
Kids don’t start clubs. Teachers start clubs.
As they pass the boys, Connor pushes Queen’s skateboard from under his arm. It goes rolling across the schoolyard.
Evelyn is afraid Connor is going to hit Queen. Maybe he’s going to hit her!
Queen walks calmly toward his skateboard and picks it up. He’s … graceful, Evelyn thinks. Connor and Parker are taller than Queen but Queen seems bigger than them.
Queen looks back at Evelyn.
“Ignore them,” he says.
Wasn’t that what Evelyn told him on the first day of school?
She’s too upset to answer. She vows not to cry, but tears sting her eyes and her nose tingles. She wants to curl up right there on the sidewalk.
Queen glances at her every few steps.
“It’ll be okay,” he says.
“No, it won’t!”
All day, Evelyn has been looking forward to going to Queen’s house. Now she just wants to go home. And find a glass of cold milk waiting for her in the fridge and a plate of oatcakes on the counter.
Queen stops. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
Queen’s eyes are so green, Evelyn thinks. Like summer ponds. She looks for her favorite freckles — the angular, umber one on the bridge of his nose and the milk chocolate smattering on his chin.
Queen smiles. His smile makes Evelyn laugh.
The thing is, she thinks, Queen is the nicest boy in the world. And today is his birthday!
“How do you stand it?” she asks once they’re walking again.
“I put up a force field. All around me. The dumb things they say — even the dumb things they think — bounce off it.”
“I’d like a force field like that.”
“Just make one. Imagine it. See it. Mine is turquoise.”
Evelyn closes her eyes. She imagines electricity spreading out from her, pushing Parker and Connor and their stupid words out, out, out.
It’s like she’s in an egg with a strong shell. It’s blue.
She opens her eyes again. She feels great!
“The force field works for good things, too,” Queen says. “But the opposite way. If someone says something nice to you, the field lets it in. Right into your heart.”
6
The walk to Queen’s house is longer than Evelyn expected. They climb over fences and cross grassy fields. They even go through a small forest.
Finally, they arrive at a wide gravel road without sidewalks. It’s a long way between houses.
Evelyn’s left foot aches. She thinks she might stitch a sideways hammock on that shoe, too.
Queen’s house is big but not fancy. Three brown chickens bob about in the front yard. They rush over to peck at Evelyn’s shoes.
Queen laughs. “They think the laces are worms.”
Patti Smith pounces when they step through the front door, wagging her tail so fast Evelyn thinks she can hear it whir against the air, like the rope when she skips pepper.
“Down!” Queen tells Patti Smith.
Evelyn stares around her. The walls are painted red and filled with paintings. The air is warm and smells like flowers and cinnamon. A real fire crackles in the fireplace, and the bookshelves overflow. Gentle music pours from speakers that hang from the ceiling.
Evelyn spies a purple velvet couch with little mirrors stitched into it. You’d never see anything like it at Moods, where her father sells furniture.
Queen drapes his hoodie on the head of a giraffe sculpture, and Evelyn does the same with her cardigan. They hang their backpacks from the giraffe’s neck. Evelyn adds her shoes to the pile by the door.
“I like the embroidery on the toe of your shoe,” Queen says.
“I was mending a hole.”
“It’s the shape of Iceland.”
“They’re too small. My toe is pushing through.”
“What size are your feet?”
“Five. But these are four and a half.”
“I used to be a five. I’m a six now.”
“Son!” A woman with hair even shorter than Evelyn’s bursts into the hall and gathers Queen into her arms. “Birthday boy!” She breathes in. “You smell good. Like sunshine.”
The woman thrusts her hand toward Evelyn. “I’m Marianne, Queen’s mom.”
Evelyn shakes Marianne’s hand, trying hard not to stare at the flowers and vines that wind from her wrist to her shoulder.
Evelyn realizes she has never touched someone with tattoos. She’s never touched a tattoo! Now she has.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Evelyn,” Marianne says.
Evelyn catches her reflection in a mirror and stares. What is there to tell?
Marianne ruffles Queen’s hair. “Come find me in the studio in half an hour. I have a project for you.”
Queen’s dad is in the kitchen, wearing an apron, pots steaming all around him. He sets his slurpy whisk on the counter and lifts Queen high until his head hits the ceiling.
Bonk.
“Birthday bump,” his dad says. He hoists Queen nine more times.
Bonk, bonk, bonk, bonk, bonk, bonk, bonk, bonk, bonk.
“Ow,” says Queen. “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”
“I’m Rodney,” Queen’s dad tells Evelyn, putting out his hand.
His tattoos are designs rather than pictures. Swirls and knots and mazes. She was right about the bird on his neck. Up close, she can see that it’s black with a ruffle of feathers around its shoulders.
“Raven,” she says. She clamps her hand over her mouth.
“Well done. Most people think it’s a crow.” He picks up his whisk. “One woman even asked if it was a pigeon!”
He and Evelyn laugh.
“I’m making your favorites, Queen. Potato latkes and bangers. Perfect for a tenth birthday.”
Evelyn can’t believe it. Her father
never cooks. He barbecues thin steaks once in a while in the summer, but that’s it.
Rodney sends her and Queen to the henhouse to gather eggs. Evelyn doesn’t like reaching under the chickens. She doesn’t like to bother them, but she loves the warm weight of the eggs that sit perfectly in the palms of her hands.
Back in the kitchen, she and Queen grate ten potatoes. Evelyn wonders who else is coming to the party.
“You’re the only person I invited,” Queen says, as if he can read her mind. “We moved around a lot before we came here. I even spent some of my birthdays in hotel rooms! Usually I’d just celebrate my birthday with my parents. I’ve never had a big party.”
When they’ve grated a damp, shaggy tower of potato, they cross the large backyard to a shed, which Marianne has turned into a pottery studio.
“She always wanted to be a potter, but life on the road made it impossible. You can’t have a kiln in a hotel room.”
Inside, a cat snoozes on an armchair with scuffed legs and stuffing fizzing out of the holes in the upholstery. Evelyn can’t stop staring at the chair. She has never seen such a used-up old thing in someone’s house.
Marianne looks up from her wheel. A drop of clay clings to her cheek.
“There you are,” she says. She puts a lump of clay in Evelyn’s hands, which are still sticky with potato juice. The clay is a strange yellow.
“It’s local.” Marianne points out the dirty window to a pit in the yard with a shovel beside it. “Hyper local. Super easy to work with and it doesn’t crack easily when it’s fired.”
Marianne shows Evelyn how to use the potter’s wheel. Evelyn can’t believe how smooth and soft the clay becomes, spinning under her hands. How easy it is to shape. Like it’s alive!
“It’ll be easy for you to pick something for Share and Hype,” Evelyn says to Queen as they etch designs into their soup bowls with toothpicks. “Everything here is so … cool.”
At school, Mr. Zhang announced they would be doing Show and Tell next week. Anneline said they were too old for Show and Tell, so Mr. Zhang suggested they give it a different name. The class came up with Share and Hype.
“You must have something cool in your house,” Queen says.
“An old cream jug. That’s it. It was my mother’s great-aunt’s second husband’s grandmother’s. It’s over a hundred and fifty years old. Silver. We never use it.”
“Is it nice?”
“Mom keeps it shiny. But it’s still just a cream jug.”
“You could fill it with cream. Pour out little cups for everyone. Put it to work.”
Evelyn likes the idea. She can show what the jug does, not just what it looks like. She smiles to herself.
If her mom saw her, she would say, “Well, don’t you look like the cat that got the cream?”
7
Even though Evelyn is the only guest, there are lots of presents for Queen.
“Let’s eat first,” Marianne says.
The room is flooded with candlelight. It makes the air thick and dreamy. Evelyn counts the candles as Marianne lights them. Eighteen in all, each one in a different candleholder.
Rodney puts on music that makes Evelyn think of snake charmers. Then he serves supper. On each plate is a single sausage beside a pancake, spelling out the number ten. The pancake is made out of grated potatoes.
There’s an extra plate.
“For Patti Smith,” Rodney says, winking at Evelyn as the dog hops up on the chair and gobbles down her meal. “Only on special occasions. And Sundays.”
When her plate is clean, Patti Smith lies under the table, pressing warmly against Evelyn’s feet.
Evelyn eyes the wrapped presents. She reads the labels. From Uncle Gerry. From Aunt Daffodil.
Then she gets a shock. One of the presents is addressed to “Queen Peter.” Another is just for “Peter.”
“Peter?” She stares at Queen. She can’t believe it.
“It’s my legal name.”
“He’s been Queen since he was four,” Marianne says. “He had a robe then. Purple velour —”
“Velvet,” Queen corrects.
“No, velour, I’m afraid.”
“I thought it was velvet.” Queen frowns.
“Well, it was still very soft and regal,” his mom says. She turns to Evelyn. “It had gold embroidery on the hem. Queen wore it everywhere — to the supermarket, to the library, even Tiny Tots soccer. He demanded to be called Queen. The name stuck.”
“But the kids tease him!” Evelyn says.
Marianne frowns. “A lot?”
“No,” Queen says.
“He just lets it bounce off,” Evelyn says.
“My name is handy. I watch how people act when they hear it for the first time. It shows me what kind of people they are.”
“So you test people,” Evelyn says. “And they don’t even know?”
“Not on purpose. It’s just an extra. You never teased me, Evelyn, or even seemed to notice. I trusted you right away.”
Evelyn blushes. She remembers what Queen said about letting the good things in. All the way in.
Queen opens his gifts: a book called Rooftoppers, a colorful patchwork hoodie, a Harry Potter Lego set, a harmonica, a baking soda rocket kit and the mini basketball hoop.
Rodney brings out the birthday cake and starts singing “Happy Birthday.” His voice is so loud that Evelyn almost covers her ears. When she joins in it’s like Rodney makes room for her voice, lets it wind around his.
Then Marianne joins in. Her voice is like a river, Evelyn thinks. Rodney’s is like a stormy ocean.
Queen blows out all the candles with one easy breath. The cake is blackberry cheesecake. Rodney says it has a little bit of rum in it, but not a lot. Evelyn won’t mention that to her parents.
After they eat their cake, Queen and Evelyn decide to put up the basketball net.
As they head up the stairs, Marianne and Rodney do something Evelyn has never, ever seen her parents do. Rodney pushes back his chair and Marianne sits on his lap. They put their arms around each other and stay like that, talking and laughing. Even kissing! Evelyn stares until Queen calls her a second time to follow him up the stairs.
The net fits over Queen’s door, and he and Evelyn take turns trying to sink the felt ball.
After a while, Marianne calls them down to the “Gibson Room.” It’s in the basement. The small room is filled with musical instruments. Marianne points out an electric guitar.
“The pièce de résistance,” she says.
“The jewel in the crown,” Rodney adds.
“The Big Kahuna,” Queen says.
Evelyn thinks for a moment. “The prize haggis.”
Everyone laughs.
It’s a 1964 Gibson, Rodney explains, which doesn’t mean anything to Evelyn, but she knows to say “Wow.”
Marianne points Evelyn toward the drum set and sits at the piano. Evelyn taps lightly at the cymbals and pushes delicately on a foot pedal. She presses harder. Bang! Harder. Woo!
Queen looks around for an instrument.
“Under the couch,” Marianne directs. Queen gets down on his knees and pulls out a bundle wrapped in a beach towel.
“It’s the ukulele, isn’t it? It’s the ukulele!”
“Yup,” Marianne says.
Queen strums his new instrument, Rodney twangs a few long notes on the Gibson, and Marianne leans into the microphone and starts to sing a song about fishing.
You get a line and I’ll get a pole, honey,
You get a line and I’ll get a pole, babe …
Evelyn taps the little drum, the big drum, then the cymbal.
Tap-bang-smash.
And again. Tap-bang-smash.
Tap-bang-smash. Tap-bang-smash. Tap-bang-smash. Tap-bang-SMASH.
It’s time to
go home. Rodney and Marianne are cleaning the kitchen. Evelyn is looking for her second shoe, the one with the hammock toe.
She hears a sigh and a rustle in the next room and peeks in.
Patti Smith is holding Evelyn’s shoe between her front paws and licking it.
Evelyn laughs. She tugs the shoe out from Patti Smith’s paws.
The room she’s in is an office, with a desk and computer and filing cabinet. Framed on the wall are gold and silver disks, like flat Frisbees.
Evelyn takes a closer look.
A plaque under one of the circles says, Gold Record. Presented to The Sky Warriors for the album ROAD TO EVERYWHERE. Half a million copies sold.
Another says, Platinum Record. Presented to The Sky Warriors for the album TUMBLEDOWN. Over one million copies sold.
Evelyn sucks in. She knows The Sky Warriors. Her father turns up their music when they come on the radio.
A photo on the wall shows five men with long hair and beards. Evelyn recognizes the man holding the guitar. He looks younger, but it’s definitely him. There’s the raven tattoo. And the 1964 Gibson.
“Your mother’s here!” Queen calls.
Evelyn hurries to the front door. She gets her sweater on quickly while her mother and Marianne talk about the rain. Evelyn can tell her mother is trying not to look at Marianne’s tattoos. She hopes Rodney doesn’t come out to say hello. One at a time.
“The sky’s about to break,” Evelyn’s mother says. “It will be a downpour.”
“Cats and dogs,” Marianne says.
“And chair legs,” adds Evelyn’s mom.
Evelyn tugs her mother out the door.
“Hold on! We forgot the goody bag!” Queen yells as they get into the car.
He runs back into the house.
Evelyn hears him call, “Paper bag! A big one!”
Moments later, he hands a bulky package through the car window.
“Thanks for coming,” he says. “See you at school.”
“Happy birthday,” Evelyn says. She hugs the goody bag to her chest.
Evelyn’s mom glances at her. “Did you have a good time?”
“Yes.”
“Who else was at the party?”