by Dyan Sheldon
To tell you the truth, I was amazed. This may sound naïve, but I really wasn’t aware of just how many different diets there were to go on. I guess I thought everybody followed Amy’s mother’s diet: the Hide All the Good Stuff and Scrape the Cheese From Your Pizza diet. It wasn’t so much a diet as a system of denial. You ate less of everything you wanted and none of the things you liked best.
“And do they work?” I asked.
Marva gave me a pitying look. “Oh, sure they do,” she said, smirking again. “That’s why Joan’s sister goes on so many of them.”
Joan gave Marva a non-pitying look. She turned back to me with a shrug. “Some of them do,” she said. “And some of them don’t. I wouldn’t know, personally.” Joan was built like a stick insect. “But I do know that you have to be on one or the other. You can’t leave this sort of thing to chance.”
I watched Tanya scoop up my piece of cake and shovel it in her mouth. I don’t even think she chewed it. “I can’t?” I said.
Joan was adamant. “No, you can’t.” She licked some icing from her fingers. “Dieting is a serious business.”
“I wouldn’t mind the chocolate cake diet,” said Sue.
“You are what you eat,” said Marva.
Tanya began to laugh. “I’m pepperoni pizza and Rocky Road ice-cream!” she roared. “I’m chocolate-chip brownies and double-cheese-burgers!”
Marva threw a bean sprout at her. “You’re a monument to junk food, that’s what you are.”
Maria leaned across the table towards me. “You don’t need to diet, Jenny. Really. My mother says boys like girls to have a little meat on their bones.”
Well, that certainly made me feel better. “Maybe I should pick up a calorie counter or something like that on my way home today,” I mused.
Marva put one long white hand on my shoulder. Her purple nails and silver bangles sparkled. “Not today,” said Marva. “Today you’re coming home with me, remember?”
I stared into those large dark eyes for a second. I hadn’t remembered; I’d forgotten. Well, maybe not forgotten exactly. Blanked out of my mind entirely might be closer to the truth. Last night Marva had called me up and invited me over to her house after school. “I’ve been thinking about frogs,” she said, “and I may have a couple of ideas.” For some reason – probably because I was weak with hunger at the time – I’d said yes. Even though going into Martian Control was just about the last thing in the world that I wanted to do. I mean, if they had bats on the outside of the house, what did they have on the inside?
I glanced around the table. Everyone was looking at me. I couldn’t very well get out of it now.
“Oh … uh … sure,” I stammered. “Of course. I remember.” I smiled at the three silver hoops in Marva’s left ear. “I’m really looking forward to it.”
On the way to her house, Marva did most of the talking. Marva was never shy, but today she wouldn’t shut up. She told me how much she wanted to be an actress, though she wasn’t sure that she’d ever want to do television – it was the theatre that really mattered. She told me that her mother had wanted to be a dancer when she was a teenager, but she’d injured her back. She told me that her father had lived in India for three years after he got out of college. She told me that her older sister had disappointed her parents by marrying a banker. She told me that her brother used to have a pet iguana. She asked me if I believed in astral projection.
“Astral projection?” I knew a lot about stars, I mean, stars are my thing, but I wasn’t sure what astral projection was.
Marva said it was when you left your body. You were still you, but you could fly around and see yourself.
I said, “You’re kidding, right?”
“Uh uh,” said Marva. “It’s one of my great ambitions in life. Next to acting on the London stage.”
She asked me what my great ambition was. For some reason – maybe because I was so surprised she was giving me a chance to talk – I told her something I’d never told anybody but Amy before. “What I’d really like to do is go into space,” I said. “You know, I’d like to be a scientist-astronaut.”
Marva nodded. “It’s sort of the same thing,” she said.
I wasn’t so sure about that, but I didn’t have a chance to reply because we’d arrived at her house.
Most places look better in the sunshine than they do in heavy rain. You know: brighter, cheerier, less likely to be inhabited by vampires or visitors from outer space. But not the house where Marva lived. It looked just as weird on a sunny afternoon as it had in the rain. Weirder even. In the sunlight you could see just how badly the paint was peeling, and just how much junk was on the porch, and that there were all sorts of feeders and bat boxes and bird houses and wind chimes and things hanging from the roof and the trees.
“Home sweet home,” cried Marva as she stepped over a sleeping cat and sailed through the front door.
So this is it, I thought to myself. Buckle your seat belt! You’re going inside Martian Control!
“Yeah.” I smiled, stepping over the same cat and following her in. “Home sweet home.” Two inches over the threshold, I tripped over something large and warm and soft. I flew past Marva. Whatever I’d tripped over let out this bloodcurdling scream and flew past me. I pulled myself off the wall.
Marva didn’t even notice. “Come on,” she said, continuing down the hall. “My room’s a mess. We can go into the dining-room.”
Still shaking slightly, I groped down the dark hall after her.
My grandmother had a dining-room. My grandmother’s dining room has a big cupboard, and a sideboard, and an enormous table in the middle of the room. The one thing you do in my grandmother’s dining-room is eat. One glance at Marva’s dining room told me that the one thing you didn’t do in it was eat. True, the table was large and in the middle of the room, but it was piled high with who-knew-what. Bags, boxes, pieces of wood, books, tools, empty cups and glasses… There were only two chairs, and both of them were covered with papers and clothes. Marva’s room must really have been a mess if we had to come in here.
Marva threw her books on top of something on the table. “You want some juice or food?” she asked as she pulled out a chair and shoved the things on it onto the floor.
My stomach growled. “Oh, no thanks,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“Take a seat, then,” said Marva, indicating the other chair. “I need sustenance. I’m going to get myself something to eat. I’ll be right back.”
I removed a stack of wood and a hammer from the second chair and sat down. Gingerly. I looked around the room. The walls were lined with bookcases – though they weren’t all filled with books. Most of them were filled with junk. There was an open sewing machine in one corner and some sort of workbench in another. There was an enormous fish tank, another tank of small reptiles and a cage of mice under the window. There were posters of things like whales and tree toads hanging on the shelves and the few bare pieces of wall. There was a wood carving of a snowy owl on top of one of the bookcases. I’d never seen anything like this room before.
Marva came thumping back in with a tray in her hands. On it was a bottle of juice, two glasses, a bowl of fruit and a bowl of nuts. She threw herself into her chair. She kicked off her shoes. She scooped up a handful of nuts and started crunching away. Suddenly I felt like I hadn’t eaten in weeks. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from reaching for an orange or two.
“OK,” said Marva, shovelling another handful of nuts into her mouth, “let’s talk about frogs.”
Frog’s legs, I thought. I wonder if they really do taste like chicken?
Marva started to talk. Though not about frogs. She said she hoped I hadn’t traumatized the dog too much by stepping on him or she’d never get him out of the bath tub. She talked about amino acids. She told me about a woman in Arizona who could leave her body at will.
While Marva talked, I listened. Not that there was anything else to do. At first I thought that I was going to
sit there, counting every nut she put in her mouth because I was so hungry, but my hunger was soon replaced by something else. Paranoia. The more Marva talked, the more uneasy I became. I was sure I was being watched. I could feel two eyes boring into me. Just like when I was walking home from Amy’s on Sunday. I looked around, but the fish were minding their own business, swimming in circles, the lizards were sound asleep, and the mice were out of range.
Marva talked some more about the theatre, and how the part she’d really like to play was Hamlet.
“Hamlet?” I said, trying to distract myself. “But Hamlet’s a man.”
“So what?” said Marva. “It’s called acting, isn’t it?”
Then she told me the names of the two lizards and the fifteen fish and how her brother had once walked halfway to Connecticut because someone told him that he would never be able to do it. “He would’ve made it, too,” said Marva, “except my father figured out where he was going and went after him in the car.”
Then she told me about the time she and Joan had snuck out of the house at midnight to go for a walk in the moonlight, but when they’d come back they couldn’t get in and had to climb up a tree and in through her brother’s bedroom window.
“You and Joan?” I said. Joan was nice, but she seemed so boring. I could imagine Marva doing something wild like sneaking out of the house to walk under the stars, but not Joan. It made me feel almost jealous. The most daring thing Amy and I had ever done together was go on the Death Defier roller-coaster at Playworld after our mothers had told us not to.
“It was a full moon,” said Marva.
Although Marva was actually pretty interesting, I was getting more and more nervous. Not only was the house strange, but I was becoming surer and surer that I was being watched. Trying not to be too obvious, I kept glancing around, but I couldn’t see anyone. The lizards were still fast asleep.
An apple core went whizzing past my ear. “Pay attention,” ordered Marva. “You’re not paying attention.”
“Yes, I am.”
Marva tossed her head. “I’ve decided what you should do about the frogs,” she said grandly.
Relief washed over me. It was about time. Once she’d told me her idea, I’d be able to go home. I stopped listening for shallow breathing and looking for eyes peering at me from the shadows. “Great,” I said. “What should I do?”
Marva grinned. “You should set all of the frogs in Mr Hererra’s lab free,” she announced.
“I should what?” She really was too much.
“Set them all free,” Marva repeated. “It’ll be like the Boston Tea Party, a symbolic revolutionary act.”
“I don’t want to start a revolution,” I pointed out. “I just don’t want to have to cut up a frog.”
Marva waved her arms theatrically. “But just think of it!” she cried. “If you give them their freedom, no one will have to cut one up. You’ll not only be stopping the senseless slaughter of innocent amphibians, you’ll be contributing to the happiness of your fellow students.” She leaned back in her chair with a contented sigh. “Actually, it’s exactly what my brother once did.”
My mind had started wandering again while she was talking about innocent amphibians, but the mention of her brother brought it back with a snap. Marva’s brother! Chris “Bizarro” County! Of course! Why hadn’t I thought of that before? That was why I thought someone was watching us! Somebody was watching us. Marva’s weirdo brother. He was probably hidden behind a bookcase or peeking through a crack in the door or something.
“Oh, really?” I said, smiling at Marva and acting as though I was about to lean back in my chair. But then, quick as an electron, I spun around, sure that I’d catch him off guard.
I was in mid-spin when I heard it. Flapping. The flapping of heavy wings. Bats! I thought. The flapping grew louder. Good grief! They’ve got bats in the house! Now I had my back to Marva and was staring at a wall of books. All I could think of was bats. Big bats with tiny red eyes and enormous leather wings.
Swooshswooshswooo … Swooshswooshswooo… The flapping was right over me.
“Get down!” shouted Marva.
I didn’t get down. Something skimmed past my head. Something large. Something with claws and fangs.
I screamed. It screamed. I screamed again. It was flapping above me, trying to land in my hair. I jumped out of my chair and started running from the room. As I crashed through the door, I could hear Marva start to sob. I ran down the hallway, shrieking. I had to get to the front door. That was all. I just had to get to the door. Once I was outside I’d be safe. Whatever it was was right behind me, shrieking louder than I. I ran and ran. Flapflapflapflapflap. Swooshswooshswoosh… It was the longest hallway I’d ever been in. It was the hallway of a nightmare, getting longer and longer as you run faster and faster. Flapflapflapflapswooshswooshswooo…
Then, just as I was about to reach the County’s front door, it flew open, and a tall figure stepped inside. A vampire! I thought. A vampire has come to help the bat!
“Geronimo!” screamed the vampire. “Geronimo!”
And then I slammed into him at full speed and the two of us fell to the floor.
Marva’s laughter filled up the hall.
“Get off me, you idiot!” screamed the figure in the doorway. But it wasn’t a vampire trying to stop me from escaping, it was Marva’s brother trying to get into the house. It was easy to see why he was always in trouble in school. He had a real attitude problem.
“Oh, pardon me,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could manage under the circumstances. “The next time I’m being attacked, I’ll try and make sure that you’re not in my way.” It seemed to me that he could have asked if I was all right or not. He was at least a foot taller than I was. I touched my nose to see if it was bleeding.
“What are you, deaf as well as stupid? Get up! I have to get Geronimo! Can’t you understand you’ve upset him?”
I’d been planning to get up. I mean, I wasn’t going to just lie there in the hallway, sprawled across Chris County, was I? I’d rather have been back at the dance. But his attitude was really beginning to annoy me. What did he mean I’d upset Geronimo? His bat had frightened me out of a year’s growth, which was something a person of my height couldn’t afford.
I didn’t budge. If he could have an attitude, I could have one too. “I’ve upset him? And what about me? I’m not used to having vampire bats chasing me through the house.”
“Deaf, stupid and blind as well,” he said. “Geronimo isn’t a bat, he’s a snowy owl.” He gave me a shove.
“Don’t you shove me!” I shoved him back.
He looked like he was going to just lift me off him, but Marva finally recovered enough to speak. “Stop it, you guys,” she ordered. “You don’t even know each other yet and already you’re fighting.” She bent over us. “Jenny,” she said in this mock-formal way, “I’d like you to meet my brother, Chris. Chris, this is Jenny Kaliski. Remember I told you about her? She’s the one having trouble with Herrera.”
The annoyed expression that had been on his face since we landed on the floor was replaced by one of amazement. “This is frog girl?”
Frog girl? Was that what Marva called me at home? For Pete’s sake, I might be short but I wasn’t green.
He turned to me. The annoyed look returned. “How could you scare Geronimo like that?” he demanded. “I thought you were concerned about other species.”
I pulled myself to a sitting position and glared at him. I could think of one species I wasn’t feeling too concerned about. “I’ll have you know that your precious owl nearly scared me to death.”
He got to his feet and stood there glaring at me. “Maybe next time he’ll do better” he said. What a charming boy.
“You could help her up, you know,” said Marva.
“I don’t need your help,” I informed him coolly.
But of course, Chris County wasn’t the kind of person to care what anyone else said. He reached out, grabbed
my arm and pulled me to my feet so quickly that we both nearly fell down again. “As soon as I find Geronimo you can apologize,” he said.
Me apologize to an owl? I was too surprised to answer. Marva and I watched him disappear up the stairs, making what I supposed must be comforting snowy owl sounds and calling, “Geronimo! Geronimo! It’s all right, boy, that girl won’t scare you any more.”
Marva turned to me with a big grin. “Isn’t it great Chris came home?” she asked. “Now he’ll be able to help with your frog plans.”
“Marva,” I said. “Marva, is that what you call me? ‘Frog girl’?”
Marva laughed. “Of course not,” she said. “That’s what Chris calls you.”
War
By the time I got to lunch the next day, the Martians had all heard the story of my run-in with the Abominable Bat about sixteen times. They thought it was hilarious. Especially the part where the hand-raised owl and I went tearing down the hallway and I knocked Chris County flat on his back.
“You should’ve seen her face!” Marva howled. “I wish I’d had a camera.”
Tanya was running back and forth behind my chair, holding her sweater stretched out like wings. “Waooohwaoooh,” she mimicked, “it’s the giant bat come to get you…”
“Very funny,” I said. I was the only one who wasn’t laughing. Even Maria, who could usually be counted on for sympathy and understanding, was wiping tears from her eyes. “You should be on the stage, Tanya,” I said sweetly. And then I added, “The one that left an hour ago.”
Tanya’s mature response to this was to stick out her tongue at me and squawk. “It’s sort of like Goliath being felled by David, isn’t it?” roared Tanya.
“It was more like Arnold Schwarzenegger tripping over Danny DeVito,” Marva roared back.
Maria put her arm around me. “Oh, come on, Jen,” she coaxed. “Even you have to admit that it must’ve been pretty funny.” So much for sympathy and understanding.
“No, I don’t,” I replied. “I don’t have to admit any such thing.” I opened my corn chips. Not only was I embarrassed, but I was off my diet as well. I’d promised myself that after school I was going into town to pick up a diet book and start over, but at the moment I was still recovering from the shock and trauma of spending an afternoon in Martian Control. I hadn’t been able to stop eating since I’d gotten home last night. I’d walked through my back door, gone straight to the kitchen cabinet, taken down a box of cookies and inhaled the whole thing just standing there, leaning against the counter. I could see my mother eyeing me as I wolfed down cookie after cookie, wondering whether or not this was a sign of drug addiction.