The fly crawls across the bridge of my nose. It’s lucky it’s not on Brock’s face.
Claudia nudges me.
I shake my head.
“Come on,” she says.
“No.”
She sighs real heavy and puts an arm around me. She hooks the other one in my dad’s. The fly crawls in my ear and is probably trying to lay eggs, so I shake my head and it flies away. Something like five minutes goes by and then Claudia and my dad are hugging, and then he tries to hug me. I step back to avoid it and get this weird whiff coming off his shirt. It’s girly and I’ve never smelled it before, so it can’t be Claudia’s—not that I go around smelling my sister.
This is new.
It’s heavy and sweet, like flowers that are showing off.Like perfume.
I shove him back.
“Whoa,” he says.
I’m balling up my fists. I move toward him and he’s stepping back, pressed against other boxes, and Claudia is shouting, “Derrick! Stop! Derrick—!”
I don’t even know what to say, and I don’t have to—my dad knows. He could easily shove me back but he doesn’t. He just stares, eyes wide with this face like I’m so busted.
I slam my palm against a box next to his head. The impact sends a sting up to my neck that’s probably way worse than it feels ’cause of all the rage. I start walking back to the car.
“Derrick!” Claudia says.
“He was with one of them!” I shout. “He was on a date before he came here.”
“What—what are you talking about?”
I march back a couple steps and point at him—that Real Jerk who has the guts to be within a mile of his girlfriends before visiting The Box. “Ask him!”
Claudia looks at my dad.
He looks at the ground. Rubs a hand over his jaw.
Guilty.
“This is so messed up you don’t even know,” I yell at him. “You don’t even know!”
“Stop it,” Claudia says. She’s crying again. “Just stop—Dee.”
“You should have just brought her,” I shout. “Maybe let her say how sorry she is—”
“Shut up!” Claudia shrieks.
I walk to the car and get in the back seat. Slam the door and then kick it real hard three times boom, boom, boom. I see the wing tips on the glove compartment sticking out behind the headrest in front of me and punch the headrest.
Then I climb up and start peeling it off, digging and clawing and pulling until Claudia sees what I’m doing and sprints toward me yelling stuff that would get you suspended from school.
1
I get up really early so I don’t have to see anyone. I eat Pop-Tarts, go out to the shed, and try to picture adding a big stupid box to hold a snake. Maybe it could fit. But only if I move all my bins around, which means totally rearranging how I get to all the stuff in an emergency.
Misty walks up the ramp carrying this big book. It has a picture of the sun on it.
“I’m going with Jupiter,” she says. “It’s huge. There has to be a place on it that humans can survive.”
“What?”
“The colonization project for Mrs. Baker. Where humans should go if we can’t live on Earth anymore. What planet are you doing?”
“I’m not.”
“What?”
“It’s due after the apocalypse.”
“Huh.” She shuts the book. “What are you measuring?”
“This thing for Tommy.” I tell her about the snake box and the mice and the mice food.
“Cool,” she says. “This place is turning into Noah’s Ark.”
“No. Not cool. It’s gonna smell like snakes and mice.”
“So you’re not gonna do it?”
“No. I don’t know.” I shrug. “Brock is being a Real Jerk about it.”
My phone buzzes. I’m not driving you to school, Claudia texts me. Tell your friends.
Ugh.
I text Brock and Tommy to take the bus. “I can’t give you a ride,” I tell Misty. “Claudia and I are in this big fight.”
“About what?”
“I yelled at my dad at the cemetery yesterday.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s the Ultimate Real Jerk.”
“Right, but why?”
I sit on the cot and pull the tape measure in and out. “He was with one of his girlfriends right before he came. And he didn’t even deny it. How messed up is that?”
She thinks about it. “Pretty messed up.”
“I told you he was a Real Jerk.”
Misty nods. Then she opens her book and starts flipping pages. “There’s this thing on Jupiter. It’s called the Great Red Spot.” She points to a picture of this giant red swirl on the planet’s surface. “It’s a storm, twice the size of Earth. Isn’t that crazy? And it’s been raging for hundreds of years. Nobody really knows how long it will last.”
“Mmhm.”
“You’re like Jupiter.”
“What?”
“You’re kind of big for our grade. You can do lots of pushups.”
“Okay.”
Misty leans forward. She moves her hand in this big circle around my chest. “There’s a storm in there. It’s been raging a while and it’s pretty strong.”
My jaw feels weird, like I’m using a bunch of muscles up. I say, “Gotta get the bus,” and walk out.
2
In science, Mrs. Baker gives us the whole period to work on our colony project. Instead, I find this website about NASA trying to save the world from the Yellowstone volcano. Their plan is to drill from the side way down and relieve the pressure, which sounds pretty cool and maybe could have worked except they aren’t starting for a couple years.
My school email alert dings and I click on an email from Misty.
Subject: Ball pythons can bite
I think you should read this article. Tommy has a ball python right? They’re not poisonous but a bunch of people on Google say they got bit by theirs and it hurt. They say you’re not supposed to pull away because the teeth will sink in deeper or something so you just have to let it finish biting and then pry it off. It’s in the article, check it out. Also here’s a couple YouTube videos of people getting bit.
Sincerely,
Your apocalypse assistant
I read it and watch the videos. One guy is trying to show people how to pick up a snake without getting bit and gets bit a bunch of times.
I email back: I’m not gonna be picking him up if I do it but thanks.
A couple minutes later Misty emails me saying, This guy says you have to clean the vivarium (that’s the official name for a snake house) every month. He says you have to take the snake out to do it right. Here’s the link.
I read that one too. The guy has step-by-step pictures and the first one is REMOVE YOUR SNAKE FROM THE VIVARIUM. I picture Pete biting my hand or face and my fingers and then how snakes probably carry weird diseases so there could be infection and then I’m in big trouble.
I shut my laptop and walk it up to the cart. Misty points at her screen like Come see this but I go back to my seat because I’m already planning how to tell Brock, the Real Jerk, that I’m not building a stupid box for a snake that will probably try to eat me when I clean out his stupid vivarium.
3
“I’m not building a stupid box for a snake that will probably try and eat me when I clean out his stupid vivarium,” I tell Brock.
He uses a straw to make a bunch of holes in his hot dog and then squirts Cheez Whiz into them. “What’s a vivarium?”
I’m outlining a poster on his basement carpet that says YOUR PARENTS WISH YOU WERE TOMMY. Tommy is in the bathroom upstairs having an allergy attack. “It’s the glass thing where Pete lives.”
“Just wear gloves,” Brock says.
Ugh. “It’s not that simple.”
Brock takes a bite of his Brock dog and chews for a while. “I got two pairs for Christmas last year. You can have the extra. They’re brand-new and real thick.”
I shake my head. “I don’t have time anyway.”
“I thought the shed was done.”
“I have to get this other thing tomorrow at Home Depot.”
“What other thing?”
“This special toilet that you don’t need water to use. It bags up your poop and turns it into compost.”
Brock drips some Cheez Whiz on the poster and grabs a paper towel, scrubbing it really hard. “So you can make room for a new toilet but not for Pete’s box.”
My chest is all swirly, and I think about Misty saying there’s a storm in there. The Great Red Spot. “You don’t get it.”
“I don’t get it?”
Tommy comes down the steps and starts playing FIFA on Brock’s big-screen TV. I keep outlining, pushing the marker so hard it’s like I’m carving the letters. It’s real quiet for a while and then Brock says, “We’re building the snake box tomorrow at Dee’s house. Early, because he’s busy later.”
I stare up at him. The Great Red Spot gets going again, but then Tommy says, “Oh, cool,” and looks at me over the couch like This is so great. I fake smile and keep tracing letters and wonder what the crap is wrong with Brock, The Ultra-Mega-Real Jerk.
“Let’s do it at eight,” Brock says. “So you can do your other thing.”
“Yeah,” I say.
I wait until Tommy is playing his game again to look at Brock like Dude, what the crap is wrong with you.
He just eats another Brock dog.
4
I push the earth in my room until the Great Red Spot goes away.
Stupid Brock.
Stupid snake box.
I’m starving because I was too mad to eat at Brock’s. I hope Claudia doesn’t feel like cooking so we can order pizza. I log into my savings account on my computer and check the balance to make sure I have enough money to cover the toilet tomorrow.
Good to go.
All I have to do is get the ATM card from my dad and have Misty’s parents stop at the bank on the way. The stupid snake box shouldn’t take more than an hour to make, so we could leave around nine. I text her, but she doesn’t answer.
I cut across the Mitchells’ backyard to her house and knock on their back slider. Her mom sees me and comes to the door.
“Hi, Derrick. How have you been?”
“Uh, good. Is Misty here?”
Her mom goes inside and shouts Mercedes up the steps, then comes back. “Been busy this summer with the deck work?”
“Uh-huh.”
She smiles. Nods. “I bet you really miss us stealing your gasoline.”
I nod. Then I say, “What?”
“I finally talked Scott into getting a bigger can so he’s not always running out halfway through mowing the lawn anymore.”
“Right,” I say, but my face must be saying something else, because her face is like Are you okay?
Gasoline.
There’s something on the lawn next to their deck. That red wagon. Black tires, white in the middle. Metal. Good for hauling heavy stuff around the yard.
Stealing your gasoline.
“Hey,” Misty says, shoving her way through the door. “What’s up?”
Her mom gives me another weird look and then shuts the slider.
“Uh.” I shake my head to try and clear things out. “I was just checking what time your parents could take us to Home Depot tomorrow.”
“I thought your dad was taking us.”
“What? No.”
“But he’s got a truck.”
“The toilet isn’t that big. It can fit in any car.”
She’s shaking her head. “They’re going to Brynn’s swim meet. They barely let me stay home by myself.”
“Oh, man.”
“Why can’t your dad take us?”
“No way.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not asking him.” I walk around and think it over. “I’d ask Claudia, but she wouldn’t do it. She’s still mad at me.”
“What about Brock’s or Tommy’s parents?”
I give her a face like Yeah right.
“Then you gotta ask your dad.”
I look over to my house and see Claudia carrying a pizza box onto our deck. My dad comes out with cups and a big bottle of soda.
“Ugh,” I say. “Fine. We’ll go right after the stupid snake box is done. Probably around nine.”
“Okay.”
I cut back across the Mitchells’ yard and pull a chair up to our deck table. “Smells good.”
“You eating with us?” Claudia asks.
“Yeah.”
She looks at me for a second. “Okay. Go get a plate and a cup.”
I come back and pour some soda. “Meat lovers. Nice.”
My dad smiles like he should get an award.
Claudia puts the umbrella up so we’re in the shade. It’s humid but not that bad. They talk about work and school while I pick at my slice and dread having to ask my dad for help. Stupid Brynn. Is swimming even a sport?
“Dad,” I say.
He cuts off whatever he was saying to Claudia. “Yeah?”
“I need—” Nope. “Can you give me and Misty a ride to Home Depot tomorrow?”
“Sure. Yeah. What time?”
“Nine, probably. Around nine.”
“Yeah.” He waits a couple seconds. “What are you buying?”
“There’s this dry-flush toilet that runs on batteries. It’s for the shed.”
“That can’t be cheap.”
“I have the money.”
“How much is it?” Claudia asks.
“Five hundred bucks.”
She chokes on her soda. “Five hundred dollars?”
“Yeah, it’s a really good one.”
“You’re gonna let him spend five hundred dollars on a toilet?” she says to my dad.
“I can do whatever I want with my money,” I tell her.
“Dad. Are you serious?”
He rubs his face. Plays with a pizza crust. “He earned it.”
Claudia gets up and gathers her plate and stuff. “It would be great if for just one second there was an actual parent in this house.”
She goes inside and slams the slider shut.
My dad and I eat our pizza. I keep looking at him, but he’s off somewhere in his head.
“So nine,” I say.
He stays far away. “Yeah.”
1
Tommy puts a pink pool noodle inside the rectangle outline I spray-painted on the grass.
“Why did you draw a face on it?” Misty asks him.
“Brock did that,” Tommy says.
“I can’t believe Kelly is letting you do this.”
“I told her Derrick is thinking of getting a snake.”
Brock walks over from the garage with a big piece of plywood. “We ready to start the frame?”
“Just measuring.” I check my watch. Almost eight fifteen. “Okay, so is this good?”
“I think so.” Tommy walks around the outline. “Should we measure again? Just to check?”
“It’s fine.”
Brock grabs an extra tape measure from my toolbox. He goes all around the outline, then compares it to some numbers on his phone. “I’d add two inches on each side so we can lift it in and out easier.”
I shrug. “Fine.”
Brock lets the tape measure curl up with a big smack. “It is fine. Now that we did it right.”
Ugh.
I cut the frame boards and then screw them together. Brock measures the plywoo
d sidings and cuts those, then we screw them on. Misty and Tommy stencil PETE’S CRIB on one side and LIVE SNAKE! DANGER! on the other. I check my watch every five seconds.
We finally set the plywood lid on top at 8:48. Done. I start cleaning and Brock says, “What about hinges? And a lock?”
“What?”
He knocks on the lid. “So you can open it easier to feed him or clean it. And keep it secure.”
“I vote for hinges and a lock too,” Misty says. “I mean, this is the end of the world we’re talking about. Things that could go wrong definitely will.”
“Yeah,” Tommy says. “Yeah yeah.”
“I’ll look for some in the garage,” Brock says.
I hear my dad fire up the truck. “I’ll find some and finish it later.”
“Let’s do it now.”
“It’s basically done.”
“No!” Brock yells. It’s pretty loud and I kind of jump. Even the birds shut up. “We’re going to do it right—just like you’ve done everything else right so far for the shed.”
Misty gives me the wide eyes. My mouth is moving, but it’s not really me talking. It’s the Great Red Jupiter Storm, and it’s all tornado winds and debris.
“You need to freaking back off,” I say. “These are my tools and my wood. I’ll do what I want.”
Brock walks up to me. “And I’m your friend. And I’m saying we’re going to finish this like you said we would. The right way.”
“Guys,” Tommy says. “It’s cool. We can do it later.”
I make a face like See? and Brock clenches his jaw. He moves so quick I think he might be punching me, but no—he’s picking up an extra board and hurling it like a spear at the—
Thud.
“Dude!” I scream. I two-hand shove him, but it’s like pushing a boulder. I run to the shed and look at this big dent in the wall where the board hit. Not too deep, I don’t think. But there’s a tiny fracture that will get worse over time.
It's the End of the World as I Know It Page 9