Language Arts (38 page)

What presentation?

“—Charles will be receiving a certificate and a special prize. But first”—and at this point, Mrs. Braxton balanced her bulbous figure on a stool at the center of the front of the room—“I will be reading Charles's story, beginning to end. Is everyone ready?”

Appalled, Charles dove for his writing tablet and began making loops.

“‘Flipper Boy,'” she began. “‘By Charles Marlow.'”

•♦•

CHAPTER ONE:
Once upon a time in a small town in the Land of Sky-Blue Waters a boy was born to a husband and wife whose names were Vincent and Barbara Hefner and they named the baby Kennedy. At first, Kennedy was like every other boy in the town. He went to school and liked eating Hostess Cupcakes and watching TV and swimming and reading comic books. He was not special except that he had no brothers or sisters or even any pets. One fine summer day Kennedy came inside and found his mother sitting at the kitchen table crying but she stopped as soon as she saw him. Kennedy asked her why she was sad and she said I'm not sad let me fix you something to eat. While Kennedy's mother made him a tuna sandwich with potato chips and a dill pickle which was Kennedy's favorite, Kennedy asked his mother if he was spoiled because sometimes he was teased about not having brothers and sisters. (Kennedy was the only boy in all of the Land of Sky-Blue Waters who didn't have brothers or sisters but you already know that from before.) Barbara said no because if I had ten children I would love them all the same way I love you and make them all tuna sandwiches or whatever their favorite was. And then Kennedy asked why she and his father didn't have more children and she told him it was because God knew that she could only be a Really Good Mother to One Child, like Mary. (And Vincent and Barbara never did have another baby.) After that Kennedy's mother said I'm a little tired do you mind if I take a nap you can watch some cartoons. While Kennedy was eating a sliver of dill pickle in front of the television, it seemed to him that his two little fingers looked a little bit littler than usual but maybe it was just his imagination. But then that night, when Kennedy kneeled by the side of his bed and folded his hands to say his prayers, he was sure that his little fingers had shrunk and that was when it started and Kennedy Hefner was no longer ordinary but becoming truly special.

CHAPTER TWO:
Kennedy grew older and wanted someone to play with but he knew that if God thought his mother could only be a good mother to one boy then probably God also knew that he couldn't be a good brother, but still he was lonely and so he asked for a pet. His mother said, ask your father. So Kennedy did, but his father said no, it's cruel to keep animals as pets unless you live on a farm, so Kennedy was not allowed to have pets except sometimes his mother took him to the pet store and he got a turtle which soon died. Kennedy enjoyed creating habitats for the turtles and did his best to take care of them but they all died and then parents everywhere learned that turtles carry a deadly germ called salmonella and that was the end of all turtles for the boy Kennedy and he had to content himself with television and magazines for company. One night Kennedy heard his parents outside the door of his bedroom arguing about pets. Barbara said it would mean so much to him and Vincent said I don't want a filthy animal in our house who do you think is going to end up taking care of it. And that was when Kennedy felt something funny about his toes, like all of a sudden he was wearing socks that were too tight. He fell asleep and forgot about it but in the morning when he went to put on his flip-flops so he could go outside he saw that his little toes had shrunk just like his little fingers so he put on Keds instead and told his mother he didn't feel like swimming today.

CHAPTER THREE:
One time when it was late at night and Kennedy was in bed he woke up and it wasn't because he was having a bad dream but because his parents were having a fight. It scared him when his parents had fights because he knew that if they had a really bad fight they might get a divorce and then the three of them couldn't be together at the end of the world in the bomb shelter that Kennedy's father had ordered from the catalog to protect them from the atomic blast that was coming one day. Kennedy put his pillow around his ears so that he couldn't hear anything, but it was no use and when he got up the next morning his ears had shrunk. And what was even worse, the tops were curled down, like they were plants closing up.

CHAPTER FOUR:
By now you can probably guess what was happening to Kennedy. Every night his parents fought or told a lie, some part of his body got smaller or deformed. For a while he was able to hide this because it was his little fingers and little toes first as I already told you and then his ears which he covered with a hat and by combing his hair differently, but one day when his mother who had been crying put his tuna sandwich down in front of him she looked into his face and screamed.

Mom, what is it, Kennedy asked. But she didn't answer because she had fainted. Kennedy held a pickle under her nose because it was the strongest-smelling thing he could think of and when his mother woke up she didn't look at him but said I'm sorry Kennedy I must be seeing things but for one second you looked exactly like your father.

•♦•

It went on like that: sixty-eight single-spaced pages written in Charles's best Palmer penmanship. As promised, Mrs. Braxton read the whole thing.

In summary, “Flipper Boy” was the story of a boy whose parents' fights worked like a magic potion. Each time they spoke a harsh word to each other, there was a corresponding change to young Kennedy's anatomy, specifically his extremities. Soon, he started noticing changes in his limbs: subtle distortions, subluxations, shrinkages. By the time his parents stopped fighting long enough to notice, it was too late; Kennedy Hefner had fully transformed into Flipper Boy.

His parents shrieked with disgust and horror.

Realizing that his mother and father were incapable of loving him in his flawed condition, Kennedy ran away from home and had a series of adventures set in exotic locales like Transylvania, Antarctica, and Havana.

Finally, in Japan, Kennedy met a large family of rice farmers who were suffering from the disfiguring effects of mercury poisoning. They took young Kennedy in. They cherished him in spite of his horrific deformities.

The force of their communal love, combined with the intervention of a beautiful fairy—modeled, in countenance only, on the September 1962 Playgirl of the Month—resulted in the miraculous straightening and regeneration of young Kennedy's limbs.

Kennedy grew up to be a fabulously wealthy, benevolent doctor who married all his nurses and invented cures for cancer, leprosy, thalidomide babies, and the flu.

And then, one day, Kennedy's parents showed up at his clinic as patients. They were blind, infected with leprosy, monstrous to behold.

Kennedy cured them, not revealing his identity.

But when their sight was restored and they saw the gold crucifix Kennedy wore at all times around his neck, they recognized him as the long-lost son they had wronged so terribly all those many years ago.

All wrongs were forgiven. They fell weeping into one another's arms and lived happily ever after.

•♦•

“‘The End,'” Mrs. Braxton said. She reached into the sleeve of her shirtwaist dress, produced a balled-up handkerchief, and began dabbing at her eyes.

Except for the sound of her intermittent sniffles, the room was completely still. The self-designated emcee seemed utterly drained of her leadership abilities, and no one was quite sure how to proceed.

It was Dana McGucken (who had listened intently the entire time, not fidgeting, not punctuating Mrs. Braxton's reading with a single vocal or flatulent outburst) who finally took charge and initiated the applause.

“Yay, Char-
Lee!
” he yelled. “Yay! Yay! Yay! I like that story!” The rest of the class joined in, the pretty photographer snapped pictures, and Mrs. Braxton, still rendered mute by emotion, indicated to Charles that he should stand.

It was then, with a hopeful heart, that he turned around to see his parents' reaction.

Because they were both seated and clapping politely in near perfect synchronization, Charles's first thought was that at least they were
unified
in their response. If his unconscious intent had been to shore up and strengthen the bonds of his parents' marriage, to lead them to whatever common ground they'd occupied before becoming combatants, antagonists, in a brutal civil war, then he had succeeded, brilliantly.

Their expressions—soon to be captured by the camera and published in the
Seattle Times
as part of the article titled “Fourth-Graders Predict the Future” and subtitled “Nellie Goodhue Students Earn Attention Thanks to Controversial Prize-Winning Story”—did not reflect jubilation, pride, or even moderate approval.

Garrett and Rita Marlow's faces looked exactly as Charles imagined Kennedy Hefner's parents' did when they first beheld their grotesquely transfigured son:

Perfect expressions of unadulterated horror.

Over the years, a few people have dared to puzzle over some of Mr. Palmer's recommendations. For a man who was allegedly concerned with speed and efficiency, some of his letter forms require time-consuming care. A few are nearly indecipherable because of their resemblance to other letters. Others are frankly difficult, even awkward, to execute, in some cases downright counterintuitive.

For example: a capital
X.

It's a powerful letter, one that often has unpleasant and/or illicit connotations: X-rated movies; X marks the spot; exile; excommunication.

Because the pharmaceutical industry relies heavily on the letter in its brand names (Sominex, Ex-Lax, Xanax, Lexapro), it is associated with ill health.

Teddy Roosevelt marked his diary with a slashing, irrevocable
X
to articulate darkness, unspeakable grief.

Mr. Palmer's uppercase
X
consists of two C-shaped curves that touch, just barely, but do not cross.

And yet, what could be simpler or quicker than two intersecting diagonal slashes?

It's as if Mr. Palmer's variants are inside jokes, put there for his personal amusement. He couldn't really have believed, could he, that these variations were timesaving? They are flouncing, fancy choices.

Perhaps Mr. Palmer wanted to demonstrate that he too, like his predecessor Mr. Spencer, had an appreciation for the finer things in life; beauty for beauty's sake, flourishes that serve no purpose beyond loveliness.

The most baffling example of these odd lapses occurs in three letters when they appear in a terminal position.

A Palmer
t
is uncrossed;

the up-swinging curve of a
w
is severed (this being the variant present in my father's signature);