Grape!

by Gabriel Arquilevich

  When we parked, Tammy asked us to hush.

  “All right,” she said, “here are the rules. You can buy snacks, and then you must head over to your seats. You can only leave your seat if you raise your hand and an aide comes over. There will be aides in every aisle.”

  Then Tammy got a little serious. “Listen, it’s very important that you behave in there. We won’t be able to do this kind of thing again if there’s trouble.”

  Waiting in line for snacks, I could tell Lou was still mad, but that was normal these days.

  What wasn’t normal was how excited Sherman was about licorice.

  “I’m going to buy a jumbo carton,” he said. “I love licorice! Did you guys know that? I mean, have I ever told you how much I adore licorice?”

  Mrs. C, he was acting weird. I mean, it wasn’t that big a deal, but to Sherman it was the biggest deal on earth.

  “I like black licorice and red licorice. It’s a bummer because I have to choose.” He wasn’t even talking like Sherman!

  “Dudes,” he said, “if I could, I would buy a pack of black and red licorice! I would spend all my money on licorice!”

  “Cool,” I said. “I guess you really like licorice, Sherman.”

  “Indeed I do!”

  “Hey, Lou,” I said, “what are you going to get?”

  “Popcorn.”

  “Cool,” I said, “I’m getting Junior Mints.”

  Going inside the theater was super official. We had to get in line and the teachers counted us off with clickers.

  And then I couldn’t believe it.

  It was like a bicentennial curse.

  Miss Roof was there.

  When I walked by she just glared at me and clicked the clicker.

  I sat between Sherman and Lou, and the theater filled up kind of slow, so we opened our snacks and waited.

  “Hey, guys,” Sherman said, “check me out.”

  He rolled up a piece of licorice, and then another, and then another, and then he jammed it all into his mouth and moved it over to one side with his tongue until one cheek was bulging.

  “Wook at me, I’m chooing tobacwow!”

  Sherman was being funny!

  “Hey guyz! Wook at me! I’m a bwaseball umpwire!”

  He bent over and spit red juice on the floor.

  “Stwike one!”

  I asked him for a piece.

  “Nwoh way,” he said, “I’m weating it awl!”

  He leaned over and spit again.

  Mrs. C, I think Sherman was going crazy.

  Crazy Sherman ate his licorice, and I ate my Junior Mints, and Lou ate his popcorn, and then Crazy Sherman pointed.

  “Hey, Wou,” he said, “wook who it is.”

  Bully Jim was sitting a few rows down.

  Lou turned his KISS hat backwards.

  Just then the lights dimmed and everybody clapped.

  Mrs. C, the movie was super cool! John Adams kept trying to get the Congress guys to vote for independence, but the Congress guys kept yelling at him to sit down, and the thing is, I really wanted to sing out loud, but I didn’t want to make trouble for Tammy, so I kind of hummed the words.

  And when the song was over everyone cheered!

  Except Sherman.

  He was hunched over, kind of groaning. The empty pack of licorice was on the floor.

  “Owww….” he said.

  “Are you all right?” I said.

  “Owww…owwweee,” he said.

  Mrs. C, I was having a great time, but Sherman needed help, so I raised my hand and waited, like Tammy said, but no one came.

  Then Sherman slid off his seat and curled up on the floor, and the thing is, he curled up on his own licorice spit. It was super gross, so I got up and walked to the back of the movie theater, and then, Mrs. C, guess who was there?

  Miss Roof!

  I almost ran back to my seat.

  “What do think you’re doing?” she said.

  “My friend Sherman is sick,” I said.

  “Where?”

  She followed me to Sherman.

  “Get up,” she said to him.

  “He can’t,” I said. “He’s too sick.”

  “Well then I guess you have to help him.”

  So that’s what I did. I pulled on Sherman until he stood up, and then I watched Miss Roof walk with him up the aisle.

  I sat down and watched the movie. There was that super cool song, “But Mr. Adams,” where the Declaration of Independence guys were arguing about who would write it, and it’s super funny because no one wants to, and I started humming again, and I almost put my arm around Lou.

  But Lou had another idea.

  “Hey, Grape.”

  “Shhh….”

  “Hey, Grape….”

  “What?”

  “Bully Jim’s a wussy,” Lou said, and then he reached into his tub of popcorn and grabbed a handful and stood up and threw it.

  “Your turn, dude.”

  “No,” I said. “I just want to watch the movie.”

  Lou punched me in the arm.

  “Dude,” he said, “your turn!”

  Mrs. C, if I’d said no, he would have punched me in the arm again and called me a wussy and it would be like having Mean Lou back, and the thing is, I really liked the movie, and I guess I could have told Miss Roof I needed a new seat, but she would have asked me why, and I could have said it was gross because of all the spit, but then she probably would say no, and Lou would be super mad at me, so I grabbed a few pieces of popcorn and stood up and threw them at Bully Jim and then sat down really fast.

  Some kids turned around.

  It was too dark to tell if one of them was Bully Jim.

  But it wasn’t too dark to tell who was shuffling down our row.

  It was Miss Roof!

  She shuffled really fast, but it was weird because she had to turn sideways and hold the tops of the seats in front of us, and all I could think about was how her butt was facing everyone in our row, and then when she got to us, she pointed her long red fingernail.

  “Are you little shits throwing popcorn?”

  Mrs. C, that’s really what she said.

  “No,” Lou said.

  She kept pointing.

  “No,” I said.

  She just stood there for a few seconds and her finger was shaking, and it was scary because the light from the movie screen kept shifting on her face, and Thomas Jefferson was singing, “Mr. Adams, damn you, Mr. Adams!”

  And then she kind of crouched down.

  “Try it again,” she said, “and see what happens.”

  She shuffled away.

  And the spiders went crazy.

  Now’s your chance. Now! While her back is turned.

  “But—”

  Lou will think it’s the coolest thing ever.

  “But—”

  And Tammy will understand. She has spiders, too!

  “But—”

  You’re running out of time, Gaby!

  “Gaby?”

  Yes, Gaby!

  “I’m not Gaby! I’m Grape!”

  Then prove it!

  I grabbed the biggest handful of popcorn I could and threw it at Bully Jim.

  Mrs. C, Coach Dennis in Park League taught us about peripheral vision, like when you have a three-on-one fast break, you keep your eyes straight ahead because your peripheral vision will tell you who’s open, and so to start practice he would have us do peripheral vision exercises by moving our finger back and forth across our face.

  Miss Roof must have super good peripheral vision.

  She shuffled back, and the thing is, this time she was making little screeching noises, and she grabbed the top of the seats and kind of hopscotched over,
and then she grabbed me by the arm, but instead of pulling me up and dragging me to the aisle like a normal super mad teacher, she just dug her long red nails into my arm and stared at me and smiled.

  Mrs. C, her smile was so scary that I couldn’t feel her nails digging in anymore.

  And then I could.

  She kept squeezing, like she wanted to kill me.

  “Let go!” I said.

  She smiled and squeezed more.

  So I punched her in the arm.

  She let go of my arm and her mouth was wide open, then she kind of smiled again.

  “Oh, my dear boy,” she said, “now you’ve done it.”

  She shuffled back.

  The only thing I remember before Tammy came to get me was Benjamin Franklin singing and my heart beating super fast and Lou saying, “Dude, that was the coolest thing ever!”

  A few minutes later I sat in a lobby chair and looked at the cuts in my arm. Two were super red, and one was purple, and one even bled a little.

  I tried to show Tammy, but she told me to sit.

  Then I saw Sherman lying down on a black leather bench. His eyes were closed and his face was gray, and on the floor was a puddle of pink throw up.

  My mom picked me up from the movie theater.

  When we got home, my dad was waiting at the kitchen table.

  I told them the truth about the popcorn, and about Lou and Bully Jim, and about Tammy and how she has spiders, but they weren’t interested in popcorn or spiders or Lou or Bully Jim or Tammy.

  “You hit a teacher!” my dad said. “¡Qué cosa más increíble!”

  He slammed his hand on the kitchen table.

  “She was stabbing me with her nails! Look, Dad, look!”

  He looked at my arm. One of the dents was purple and bruising and another was still leaking a little blood.

  “Angélica, mira esto,” he said to my mom.

  “Dios mío,” my mom said.

  “She did this to you?” my dad said.

  “Dad! She’s a horrible lady. She hates me! I never did anything to her. She just always hated—”

  “She did this to you because of the popcorn?” my dad said.

  “It was my fault and I’m sorry and I should get in trouble for throwing popcorn, but she was hurting me.”

  My mom and dad just sat there. Then my mom left and came back with some cream for my arm.

  “Ouch,” I said.

  Then we just sat there again. I waited for my mom to say, Grape, is okay, or my dad to say, Let me put it this way, but I think my mom and dad kind of ran out of ideas.

  “I’m really sorry,” I said.

  And Mrs. C, the thing is, I really am sorry.

  I’m super sorry for throwing popcorn and ruining the movie for Tammy, and I will talk to Doctor Vecchi more about the spiders and why they make me do things and if maybe there’s a way to get rid of them, but the thing is, you asked me to be honest, so I will be.

  I’m not sorry for punching Miss Roof.

  The end

  June 14, 1976

  Well, Mrs. C, I guess I’m done.

  My mom and dad just called me to the kitchen table and said I have to turn this in tomorrow, along with my homework, so I brought them what I wrote and they were super surprised.

  “Grape, is a lot!” my mom said.

  “You’re not allowed to read it,” I said.

  “Is like a book!” my mom said.

  “Don’t worry,” my dad said, “is in writing between you and the principal, and when is in writing, then—”

  “It’s official!” I said.

  “Yes,” my dad said, “is official.”

  We sat there looking at the pile of papers, then my dad asked me about my homework.

  I went to my room and got it.

  “Is so little?” my mom said.

  Mrs. C, the thing is, I didn’t do much homework. I mean, I tried, but it was super boring, and all I wanted to do was write about the spiders and Lou and Sherman and Clair and the rabbi and Tammy and streaking and everything else.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “I can do more this summer.”

  Mrs. C, I really can do more this summer. Lou’s going to be in New York with his dad, and I don’t want to go to sleepover camp again even though I thought about trying to find Abe’s pocketknife and giving it to Ezra and maybe talking to Rabbi Levin, and I might go to Camp Chaparral, but that’s only during the day, so I can do homework, I promise.

  The thing is, Mrs. C, I really don’t want to go to Riverwash.

  My dad looked at my little pile of homework, then at my big pile of writing.

  “Well,” he said, “is up to the principal now.”

  “And she say you’re a good kid,” my mom said.

  We just sat there for a while. My mom and dad kept looking at the big pile of writing, like they wanted to touch it.

  “You’re not allowed,” I said.

  I started to cry.

  “Can you tell us a little?” my mom said.

  So I did.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  For their early reads and feedback, thank you to Kim Fuhrmann, James Coffey, Ross Venokur, and Cynthia McDermott. For help with the Spanish, muchisimas gracias to David Howard. Todah rabah to Ziv Tarsi for his help with the Hebrew. I am very grateful to Melissa Hart for her ongoing advice and support in all things writing. Many thanks also to Gayle Brandeis for her editorial eye and steadfast encouragement. To Elizabeth Lowenstein and Teresa Blackton, editors at Regal House, thank you for your hard work and spot-on suggestions. My deep appreciation to Jaynie Royal, Editor-in-Chief at Regal, for seeing in Grape! something worth sharing with the world. Finally, there are no words to express my gratitude to my wife, Jaymie, who never tired of reading the manuscript, making it better each time.