My Hairiest Adventure (2 page)

I read the label to them: “INSTA-TAN. Rub on a dark suntan in minutes.”

“Cool!” Manny declared. “Let’s try it.”

“Where did you find it?” Lily demanded. Her cheeks were bright red from the
cold. There were white flecks of snow in her bangs.

I pointed to the Dumpster. “Your neighbors threw it out. The bottle is full,”
I announced.

“Let’s try it!” Manny repeated, grinning his crooked grin.

“Yeah. Let’s all go into school on Monday with dark suntans!” Kristina urged.
“Can you see the look on Miss Shindling’s face? We’ll tell her we all went to
Florida!”

“No! The Bahamas!” Lily declared. “We’ll tell Howie Hurwin that The Geeks
went to the Bahamas to practice!”

Everyone laughed.

“Do you think the stuff works?” Jared asked, adjusting his cap and staring at
the bottle.

“It
has
to,” Lily said. “They couldn’t sell it if it didn’t work.” She
grabbed the bottle from my hand. “It’s nearly full. We can all get great tans.
Come on. Let’s do it. It’ll be so cool!”

We all followed Lily back into the house, our boots crunching over the snow,
our breath steaming up above our heads.

I pulled off my coat and tossed it onto the pile with the others. As I made
my way into the living room, I began to have second thoughts. What if the stuff
doesn’t work? I asked myself. What if it turns us bright yellow or green instead
of tan?

I’d be so totally embarrassed if I had to show up at school with bright green
skin. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. Even if it took months, I’d hide in my
house—in my closet—till the stuff wore off.

The others didn’t seem to be worried.

We jammed into the downstairs bathroom. Lily still had the bottle of
INSTA-TAN. She twisted off the cap and poured a big glob of it into her hand. It was a creamy white
liquid.

“Mmmmm. Smells nice,” Lily reported, raising her hand to her face. “Very
sweet-smelling.”

She began rubbing it on her neck, then her cheeks, then her forehead. Tilting
the bottle, she poured another big puddle into her palm. Then she rubbed the
liquid over the backs of both hands.

Manny took the INSTA-TAN bottle next. He splashed a big glob of it into his
hand. Then he started rubbing it all over his face.

“Feels cool and creamy,” Kristina reported when her turn came. Jared went
next. He practically emptied the bottle as he rubbed the stuff on his face and
neck.

Finally it was my turn. I took the bottle and started to tilt it into my
palm.

But something made me stop. I hesitated. I could see that the others were all
watching me, waiting for me to splash the liquid all over my skin, too.

But, instead, I turned the bottle over and read the tiny print on the label.

And what I read made me gasp out loud.

“Larry, what’s your problem?” Lily demanded. “Just pour a little in your hand
and rub it on.”

“But—but—but—” I sputtered.

“Do I look darker?” Kristina asked Lily. “Is it working?”

“Not yet,” Lily told her. She turned back to me. “What’s wrong, Larry?”

“The l-label,” I stammered. “It says ‘Do not use after February, 1991.’”

Everyone laughed. Their laughter rang off the tile walls in the narrow
bathroom.

“It can’t hurt you,” Lily said, shaking her head. “So
what
if the
stuff is a little old? That doesn’t mean it will make your skin fall off!”

“Don’t wimp out,” Manny said, grabbing the bottle and tilting the top toward
my hand. “Go ahead. Pour it. We’ve all done it, Larry. Now it’s your turn.”

“I think my skin is starting to tan,” Kristina said. She and Jared were admiring themselves in the mirror over the sink.

“Go ahead, Larry,” Lily urged. “Those dates on the labels don’t mean
anything.” She shoved my arm. “Put it on. What could happen?”

I could see that they were all staring at me now. My face grew hot, and I
knew that I was blushing.

I didn’t want them to call me a wimp. I didn’t want to be the only one to
chicken out. So I tilted the bottle down and poured the last sticky glob of the
liquid into the palm of my hand.

Then I splashed it onto my face and rubbed it all over. I covered my face, my
neck, and the back of my hands. It felt cool and creamy. And it did have a sweet
smell, a little like my dad’s aftershave.

The others cheered when I finished rubbing the cream in. “Way to go, Larry!”
Jared clapped me on the back so hard, I nearly dropped the empty INSTA-TAN
bottle.

We all pushed and shoved, struggling to get a good view of ourselves in the
small medicine chest mirror. Manny gave Jared a hard shove and sent him
sprawling into the shower.

“How long is it supposed to take?” Kristina asked. The bright ceiling light
reflected off her glasses as she studied herself in the mirror.

“I don’t think it’s working at all,” Lily said, letting out a disappointed
sigh.

I studied the label again. “It says we should have a dark, good-looking tan almost instantly,” I reported. I shook my head.
“I knew this stuff was too old. I knew we shouldn’t have—”

Manny’s shrill scream cut off my words. We all turned to him and saw his
horrified expression.

“My face!” Manny shrieked. “My face! It’s falling off!”

He had his hands cupped. They trembled as he held them up. And I saw that he
was holding a pale blob of his own skin!

“Ohhhh.” A weak moan escaped my lips.

The others stared down at Manny’s hands in silent horror.

“My skin!” he groaned. “My skin!”

And then a grin burst out over his face, and he started to laugh.

As he held up his hand, I saw that it wasn’t a piece of pale skin at all. It
was a wet, wadded-up tissue.

Laughing his head off, Manny let the tissue float down to the bathroom floor.

“You jerk!” Lily cried angrily.

We all began shouting and shoving Manny. We pushed him into the shower. Lily
reached for the knobs to turn on the water.

“No—stop!” Manny pleaded, laughing hard, struggling to break free. “Please!
It was just a joke!”

Lily changed her mind and backed away. We all took final glances into the mirror as we paraded out of the bathroom.

No change. No tan. The stuff hadn’t worked at all.

We grabbed our coats and hurried back outside to finish the snowman. I took
the empty INSTA-TAN bottle with me and tossed it into the snow as Lily and
Kristina rolled a snowball to make the head. Then they lifted it onto the
snowman’s body.

I found two dark stones for eyes. Manny grabbed Jared’s Raiders cap and
placed it on the snowman’s head. It looked pretty good, but Jared quickly
grabbed his cap back.

“It looks a lot like you, Manny,” Jared said. “Except smarter.”

We all laughed.

A strong gust of wind whipped around the side of the house. The wind toppled
the snowman’s head. It rolled off the body and crumbled to powder on the ground.

“Now it
really
looks like you!” Jared told Manny.

“Think fast!” Manny cried. He scooped up a big handful of snow and heaved it
at Jared.

Jared tried to duck. But the snow poured over him. He instantly bent down,
scooped up an even bigger pile of snow, and dropped it over Manny’s head.

This started a long, funny, snowball fight among the five of us. Actually, it turned out to be Lily and me against Manny,
Jared, and Kristina.

The two of us held our own for a while. Lily is the fastest snowball maker I
ever saw. She can make one and throw it in the time it takes me to bend down and
start rolling the snow between my gloves.

The snowball fight quickly became a war. We weren’t even bothering to make
snowballs. We were just heaving big handfuls of snow at each other. And then we
started rolling in the snow. And then we chased each other to the next yard,
where the snow was fresh—and started another heavy-duty snowball fight.

What a great time! We were laughing and shouting, all breathing hard, all
steaming hot despite the cold, swirling winds.

And then suddenly I felt sick.

I dropped to my knees, swallowing hard. The snow started to gleam brightly.
Too brightly. The ground swayed and shook.

I felt
really
sick.

What’s happening to me? I wondered.

Dr. Murkin raised the long hypodermic needle. It gleamed in the light. A tiny
droplet of green liquid spilled from the tip.

“Take a deep breath and hold it, Larry,” the doctor instructed in his
whispery voice. “This won’t hurt.”

He said the same words every time I had to see him.

I knew he was lying. The shot hurt. It hurt every time I got one, which was
about every two weeks.

He grabbed my arm gently with his free hand. He leaned close to me, so close
I could smell the peppermint mouthwash on his breath.

I took a deep breath and turned away. I could never bear to watch the long
needle sink into my arm.

“Ow!” I let out a low cry as the needle punctured the skin.

Dr. Murkin tightened his grip on my arm. “That doesn’t hurt much, does it?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

“Not too much,” I groaned.

I glanced up at my mother. She was biting her lower lip, her face twisted in
worry. She looked as if
she
were getting the shot!

Finally, I felt the needle slide out. Dr. Murkin dabbed a cold,
alcohol-soaked cotton ball against the puncture spot. “You’ll be okay now,” he
said, patting my bare back. “You can put your shirt back on.”

He turned and smiled reassuringly at my mother.

Dr. Murkin is a very distinguished-looking man. I guess he’s about fifty or
so. He has straight white hair that he slicks down and brushes straight back. He
has friendly blue eyes behind square-shaped, black eyeglasses, and a warm smile.

Even though he lies when he says the shot won’t hurt, I think he’s a really
good doctor, and I like him a lot. He always makes me feel better.

“Same old sweat gland problem,” he told my mother, writing some notes in my
file. “He got overheated. And we know that’s not good—don’t we, Larry?”

I muttered a reply.

I have a problem with my sweat glands. They don’t work very well. I mean, I
can’t sweat. So when I get really overheated, I start to feel sick.

That’s why I have to see Dr. Murkin every two weeks. He gives me shots that make me feel better.

Our snowball battle was a lot of fun. But out in the snow and cold wind, I
didn’t even realize I was getting overheated.

That’s why I started to feel weird.

“Do you feel better now?” my mom asked as we made our way out of the doctor’s
office.

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay,” I told her. I stopped at the door and turned to
face her. “Do I look any different, Mom?”

“Huh?” She narrowed her dark eyes at me. “Different? How?”

“Do I look like maybe I have a suntan or something?” I asked hopefully.

Her eyes studied my face. “I’m a little worried about you, Larry,” she said
quietly. “I want you to take a short nap when we get home. Okay?”

I guessed that meant I didn’t look too tanned.

I
knew
that INSTA-TAN wouldn’t work. The bottle was too old. And it
probably didn’t work even when it was new.

“It’s hard to get a suntan in the winter,” Mom commented as we headed across
the snowy parking lot to the car.

Tell me about it, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Lily called me right after dinner. “I felt a little sick, too,” she admitted.
“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” I replied. I held the cordless phone in one hand and flipped TV channels with the remote control in my other
hand.

It’s a bad habit of mine. Sometimes I flip channels for hours at a time and
never really watch anything.

“Howie and Marissa walked by after you left,” Lily said.

“Did you massacre them?” I asked eagerly. “Did you bury them in snowballs?”

Lily laughed. “No. We were all soaked and exhausted by the time Howie and
Marissa showed up. We all just sort of stood there, shivering.”

“Did Howie say anything about their band?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Lily replied. “He said he bought an Eric Clapton guitar book. He said
he’s learning some new songs that will blow us away.”

“Howie should stick to drums. He is the worst guitar player in the world,” I
muttered. “When he plays, the guitar actually
squeaks
! I don’t know how
he does it. How do you make a guitar squeak?”

Lily laughed. “Marissa squeaks, too. But she calls it singing!”

We both laughed.

I cut my laughter short. “Do you think Howie and the Shouters are any good?”

“I don’t know,” Lily replied thoughtfully. “Howie brags so much, you can’t
really believe him. He says they’re good enough to make a CD. He says his dad
wants them to make a demo tape so he can send it to all the big CD companies.”

“Yeah. Sure,” I muttered sarcastically. “We should sneak over to Howie’s
house some afternoon when they’re all practicing,” I suggested. “We could listen
at the window. Check them out.”

“Marissa is actually a pretty good singer,” Lily said. “She has a nice
voice.”

“But she’s not as good as you,” I said.

“Well, I think we’re getting better,” Lily commented. Then she added, “It’s a
shame we don’t have a real drummer.”

I agreed. “Jared’s drum machine doesn’t always play the same song we play!”

Lily and I talked about the Battle of the Bands a while longer. Then I said
good night, turned off the phone, and sat down at my desk to start my homework.

I didn’t finish until nearly ten. Yawning, I went downstairs to tell Mom and
Dad I was going to sleep. Back upstairs, I changed into pajamas and crossed the
hall to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Under the bright bathroom light, I studied my face in the mirror over the
sink. No tan. My face stared back at me, as pale as ever.