Outside In (8 page)

TEN

A Hundred Trillion Germs

Lynn knelt on
the gym floor, dipped her paintbrush and carefully filled in a large N in bright red kindergarten poster paint. The banner to welcome home the choir was nearly done.

When news of the choir's return date reached the school, Ms. Yandle had Lynn into the office again.

“There's going to be a rally. Are you okay with this?”

“Totally.”

That was a lie. Celebrating the choir, that was just fine. What wasn't so fine was welcoming Kas and Celia home.

Lynn moved on to the fat S and switched to sunny yellow. What would she do when they asked about Heimlich girl? She couldn't tell them. While they had been gone she had spent all her spare time with Blossom. Monday evening they'd gone to the art history class at the university and looked at pictures of fat pink and gold angels painted on church ceilings. Tuesday the whole gang had gone to the big bottle return depot. Wednesday they'd hung out at the cottage, listening to music, eating a big find of lychee nuts and making Artdog a new spring coat. They'd biked all over the city, to places Lynn had never known existed.

How would that work when the Diode was back?

She didn't want to lie. She didn't want to abandon Blossom and the Underlanders.

She filled in the last of the S. Congratulations. Life was easier when you just texted and left stuff out.

“Beautiful!”

“Aaagh.” Splodge.

“Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to startle you.” Ms. Yandle leaned over the banner. “Good job. I just wanted to say how impressed I am by how generous you're being. You'll be glad to have your friends home.”

Lynn nodded. Yes and no. She turned the splodge into an exclamation point.

≈≈≈

When Lynn arrived
at the cottage, the whole crew was there, but it was nothing like the cozy party day. When Blossom opened the door she had the blotchy face of somebody who had been crying.

“Hey, Blossom. Is this a bad time for me to be here?”

“No. Come in. He's horrible. I hate him.”

As soon as the white door slid open, Lynn heard the sound of yelling.

Fossick and Tron were standing face to face. Tron's hands were clenched into fists. Larch was sitting in an armchair curled up in a ball, Artdog squished next to him. Nobody said hello.

“I'm not doing it.”

Fossick held up his hands, palms forward. “But, Tron, you know it can only work if everybody pulls his weight. It's your turn.”

“Listen.
I don't care
. I don't care about it all working. I've got something important happening.”

“Then we can talk about switching chores.”

Tron spat out the words. “You don't get it. I'm sick of talking. I'm sick of you. I'm sick of this whole thing.”

“Tron, son.” Fossick stepped forward, one hand outstretched, and Tron lashed out, swore and crashed out the door.

There was a silence broken only by Artdog whimpering. Then there was a voice from the armchair. “Larch doesn't like those words.”

Fossick went and put his hands on Larch's head. “It's okay. It's okay. He's just angry.”

He looked at Blossom and raised his eyebrows.

“What about it? Can you take over Ginger for today? Larch and I will make some dinner.”

“But Lynn's here. And it's not my job.”

“Take Lynn with you.”

The storm dissolved from Blossom's face. “Can I really?”

“Sure. Lynn's one of us now. We'll give her some work to do. Here's the key.”

≈≈≈

Ginger turned
out to be a dog — a high-stepping, elegant light-brown poodle who looked as though she would be at home on a fashion runway. Her house was also elegant, with lots of metal and wood, not one bit of clutter and a pond with giant koi.

As Blossom put on Ginger's complicated leash, she explained the arrangement.

“It's all about teeth. Larch's teeth. Teeth cost way too much money to fix. Ginger belongs to Clara. Clara's a dentist. If you need your teeth fixed and you can't pay money, Clara gets you to come and take care of Ginger when she's working. Everybody has their slot. Thursday evenings are our time. That's the day she works late. She's not the usual citizen dentist, I guess.”

“Hardly.”

“This is really Tron's job, but sometimes I came with him, so I know how to do it. He used to like it, before he started to be stupid. Anyway, he liked it because after walking Ginger and giving her dinner, he watches TV. Clara has the special soccer channel. And a big screen. Okay, Ginger, walk time.”

Ginger angled her head like a long-necked movie star and did a small dance of anticipation.

Ginger matched Blossom and Lynn step for step, sitting down delicately at each intersection and ignoring a yappy dog on the other side of the street.

“Is this the perfect dog or what?” said Lynn.

“She was the star of the obedience school. It's like she's been to obedience university.”

The leash-free park was dotted with dogs of every sort and ringed with dog owners. Blossom and Lynn found a bench.

The minute Ginger was off her leash, she streaked across the field, dodging and leaping. She hurdled right over a small squished-faced dog who looked around in confusion. She intercepted a ball, abandoning it only after getting two or three other dogs involved in the chase.

“What if she runs away?” said Lynn.

“She won't. Obedience university, remember? There might as well be a chain-link fence around the edge of the field.”

An SUV pulled up behind them, and a blonde girl got out leading a golden retriever. The rest of the family followed. Dad and Mom with silver coffee mugs, son with a tennis-ball flinger, baby in a stroller. All of them were blond and very tidy.

“Look,” said Lynn. “They're the same color as their dog.”

“Yes,” said Blossom. “Golden. Like a family in a picture book.” She pulled her feet up onto the bench and swiveled to face Lynn.

“When I was little, I used to make families like that. Out of pebbles and socks and erasers. Or cut out of flyers. Mommy, Daddy, boy, girl, baby. Always the same.”

“I did that, too! I used to draw them. In front of a square house with a door and two windows and a path and a curlicue of smoke coming out of a chimney. And three clouds and a spiky sun and four tulips. Where does that stuff come from? We never had a house like that.”

“I know. I wonder that, too. I never had a family like that.”

“Me, neither.”

Some death-wish crows landed on the ground in front of them, only to be chased away by a posse of dogs.

“I used to think citizen families were mostly like that. I mean, maybe not the four tulips, but Mommy and Daddy. But then I met you. Shakti isn't exactly Mommy, is she?”

Lynn snorted and shook her head.

“And Clive? What will happen with him? Will he stay part of your family?”

The crows reclaimed their patch of territory.

“He says he wants to. He's been emailing me from Ghana. He's a good person. Kind. But …” Lynn swallowed. “Some of the others said that, too. They said it and they meant it. But they moved on. They got busy. They found other people. So. I just don't know.”

The golden retriever and Ginger galloped from one end of the field to the other, best friends forever.

“Blossom?”

“Hm.”

“Do you ever think about your mother?”

“Yes. Always. Every day. This morning I was thinking about her because I'm learning about bacteria.”

“Bacteria!?”

“Yes. Did you know that we have a hundred trillion micro-organisms on us but when we're in the womb we have none? As we come through the birth canal we are bathed in bacteria and most of them turn out to be very good for you. Scientists aren't sure about all this yet. We used to think bacteria were bad and we tried to kill them off. But it might be that humans are killing off too many bacteria in their bodies using antibiotics. So, I thought of her, and the things she gave me. Like bacteria.”

Germs. This was not the direction that Lynn had expected for the topic of mothers.

“But aren't you mad at her, that she put you in a dumpster?”

“Of course. But do I want to be angry with her for my whole life? What's the point of that? I would rather try to think about what she gave me.”

“Do you ever think about searching for her?”

“I used to think about it. I used to make up stories about it. But one day I was telling one of those stories to Tron and he said I was old enough to know the truth. We can't look for our birth families because we could get Fossick into terrible trouble. He broke the law by keeping us and making our family. The citizens say he should have given us to the social services. If he gets found out now he could get put in jail and we'd end up in foster homes.” Blossom spat the words foster home like it was swearing.

“But. Our friends Jean and Rob? They sometimes have foster kids and they're really kind to them. They take them on holidays and buy them stuff.”

Blossom shook her head. “It's not their family, though, is it?”

Lynn thought of the pictures on Jean and Rob's fridge. It was true. Those foster kids, they had a look. Deep-down sad. Wary.

“And besides, nobody's going to take Larch. He doesn't fit into citizen life. So that's why we can't be found out. Not just because of living in the Underland, but because they would rip our family apart. But now I feel like it's getting ripped apart anyway. You know how you told me that Tron is just being normal for a teenage boy?”

“Yeah.”

Blossom was gripping the bench with white knuckles. “I've thought about it and thought about it. It can't be like that for us. Fossick said. It takes all of us to make it work, to look after Larch, to get what we need. I hate the way Tron's changing.”

Lynn suddenly felt a lot older than Blossom. “But, Blossom, everybody leaves their first family. You can't stay home forever. You need to find new people when you grow up.”

Blossom's voice cracked. “Why? I needed new people and I found you. Tron should just go and find a best and perfect friend.”

Lynn looked across the field. The sun had fallen low and the dogs were casting long weird shadows as they ran and grouped and regrouped.

Best and perfect friend.

Ginger loped up to the girls and nosed her leash.

“Okay,” said Blossom. “Home.”

ELEVEN

Dancing for Doughnuts

The school's brass
ensemble was pretty good, but they didn't know that many songs. They were on their third rendition of “Wavin' Flag” and the banner was sagging by the time the bus pulled up to the school and the choir started to emerge. Families flowed around the travelers and there was every variety of hugging. Screens were held on high to capture the moment.

When Celia appeared, there was a huge cheer, and she put her hands over her face.

Kas slipped around the edge of the crowd and found Lynn. She put the back of her hand to her forehead.

“Oh, it is
so
difficult being famous. The paparazzi! The fans! The limos!”

Lynn groaned and grinned. “Oh, shut the front door.”

Kas dug into one of the shopping bags she was managing. “I've got something for you. They have such great stuff down there. Way better than here. Where is it?”

“Kassie!” Two small boys launched themselves at Kas, knocking her luggage sideways. Her parents brought up the rear, arms open.

Engulfed in hugs, Kas caught Lynn's eye and mouthed, “Later.”

Lynn felt an arm slide around her waist, and there was Celia.

“Lynn, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why?”

“Well, you stopped texting. We thought you might be depressed or something, stuck here at home. It must have been so boring.”

“Um, no. I'm fine. I just got … oh, you know. School and stuff. I'm so glad you're home. And now you're a star!”

“Yes, well, I think that's about to be history. The tiger parents are concerned that I've missed ten days of school.”

Lynn glanced over at Celia's parents and her little sister. Her father was taking pictures of the banner.

“Come on. They are proud as anything.”

“I know.” Celia rolled her eyes. “But it wouldn't be good for me to know that. Anyway, Kas and I have decided that tomorrow is totally for you. Anything you want.”

Tomorrow, Saturday. She was going with Blossom to the farmers' market on the north shore. She was going to help out. Blossom had promised her a big surprise. They were meeting early.

“Um. Doesn't Kas have soccer?”

“She's going to skip.”

“The thing is, I've got a thing in the morning.”

“What?”

This was it. Worlds in collision. Lynn had not expected it to happen so soon. Now she had pretzel subjects with the Diode.

“Oh. You know. Shakti and all that.” Lying without lying.

“Oh, boy. We really need to get an update on that situation. So, look, how about the afternoon? Think about whether you want to catch a movie or whatever.”

“Why don't we get together and study? I can fill you in on all the homework you missed.”

Celia's face fell. “Oh. Sure. That's probably a good idea.”

“Celia! Kid-ding!”

“Oh, Lynn. You got me! As usual.”

“Celia!” Mr. Inkpen was waving from a spot in front of the banner and making picture-taking gestures.

Lynn gave Celia a push. “Go on. Photo op. Inky's looking for some reflected glory.”

≈≈≈

The next day
involved an early start. Lynn had decided to ride her own bike. The Underlanders had been generous about lending their extra, but she had her own so why not use it? She had dusted it off and pumped up the tires. But Saturday morning it started making a clanking sound about halfway to the Lingerlands.

Fossick, Tron and Blossom were waiting, large cartons bungeed to carts attached to their bikes.Tron looked bored.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm late. I had to stop and blow up the tires again and — ”

“Chain,” said Blossom. “Let's have a look.”

“Quick link,” said Tron.

“Right. I've got an extra.”

The bike repair was done in a flash and they set off on back roads and lanes. Lynn and Blossom rode side by side and slid into single file when they met a vehicle.

“Blossom, don't you ever sleep in?”

“Sure, but not when there's something to do.”

“But it's the weekend. Weekends are sacred.”

“Weekends are just a human invention. Sleep in or wake up early, it's the same every morning no matter if you call it Wednesday or Saturday.”

Lynn's legs were already whining. “Well, yes, in theory.”

She got a good look at Tron from behind. He never put his foot to the ground, balancing while stopped or riding tight little circles at red lights. His legs looked like some kind of machine part, and even on the level or on a down slope he never coasted. It wasn't long before he pulled way ahead.

“Sorry,” puffed Lynn. “I just can't keep up.”

“Nobody can keep up to Tron,” said Fossick. “He's made for speed. We'll just see him there.”

When they got to the final uphill grind, Lynn got slower and slower, and finally with a grunt gave up.

“I'm just not as fit as you guys.”

“It's okay,” said Blossom. “We'll walk.”

“This old man's not giving up,” said Fossick. “See you at the top.”

“When I push my bike I pretend I'm exercising a horse,” said Blossom.

“I used to do that, too! I so wanted a horse.”

“I used to think that all citizen girls could have a horse. We used to see them riding down on the flats.”

“Yeah, well, there are the citizens down on the flats and all the rest of us. Okay, that hill's over. I can ride again. Gee up, Blaze.”

The market was in the parking lot of a sports arena, with one long double row of tables. The backdrop of mountains looked close enough to touch.

Lynn had always thought of the north shore as playland, a destination for school trips, to the petting zoo in the primary grades and then later to the mountains for tubing and snowboarding, coming back on the bus wet and tired and full of stories about the best run, the best wipe-out.

Cars and trucks disgorged boxes of fruit, flats of vegetables, candles, glass cases of jewelry, jars of jam. There were a couple of frowning old ladies with pastries, a man with dips, a coffee van already in business.

Everyone seemed to know the Underlanders.

“Hey, dude. Zup?”

“Fos, old man, good to see you.”

“Do you come here often?” asked Lynn.

“Just for the market and just when we've got enough makes.”

“Makes?”

“You'll see. That's the surprise.”

The other merchants continued to call out greetings. “What's Michelangelo got this week?”

Lynn nudged Blossom. “Who's Michelangelo?”

“They mean Larch. Sometimes they say Picasso, but mostly they say Michelangelo.”

“Seventeen,” said Fossick. “This is our table.”

Tron unhitched the cart from his bike. “I'm out of here.”

Blossom punched her palm. “Oh, come on, Tron. Stay. What do you have to do that's so important? There's going to be music later. You know.”

Tron reached out and messed her hair. “You guys can take care of it. Especially now that you've got citizen support.” He flashed Lynn a shiny snapshot of a smile, jumped on his bike and was gone.

“I hate that,” said Blossom. “It's like he's allergic to us.”

“He kind of is,” said Fossick. “We make him itchy. Itchy to be somewhere else. He's obviously got something big on his plate. I guess we'll find out in the fullness of time. Meanwhile, let's unpack.”

“Finally!” said Lynn. “The suspense is killing me.”

Blossom slit open the first box. “Have a look.”

Lynn peered in. “You've got to be kidding. Toilet-paper tubes. What?”

Blossom plucked one from the box and held it up for Lynn to look through.

“What do you see?”

It was like looking through a telescope at a miniature world. There was a lake, some trees hanging over it, little waves, a fairy dipping her toe into the water and a moon and a reflection of the moon in the water. All from paper with the most delicate of cuts.

“OMG, that's amazing. Did Larch make this?”

“He did. He only needs toilet paper tubes, paper and glue. Also toothpicks.”

“And it gets better,” said Fossick. “Look.” He took his bike light and shone it down the tube.

The whole thing jumped into 3-D, a world of light and shadow and mystery.

“Wow. I love the way the fairy shadow falls onto the clouds. You could get lost in there. In tubeworld.”

“Tubeworld!” Blossom grinned. “That's it. Exactly.”

Lynn wasn't really much help with the set-up, because she could not resist looking down each tube.

“Knights jousting. The Dungeons and Dragons weirdos are going to really love that one. Monkey cage — any preschooler. Boy fishing off a pier — Grandpa's remembering the good old days. Boxing ring — WWF fans step right up. Oh. Laundromat. Save that one for me. Look how he figured out exactly the look of the man who sits staring into the dryer. How does Larch know about these places, about things like flamenco dancing?”

Fossick paused in his set-up. “He just sees pictures in magazines and books and copies them. I think that's why he's so good. He doesn't have any ideas in advance. He just sees the shapes. He really sees them.”

By ten o'clock they were ready to go, with pyramids of tubes backlit by bike lights. As soon as the opening bell rang, there was a crowd around the table and it didn't let up.

Lynn found herself fizzy with the energy of it, rearranging the stock, matching customer to tube, chatting, raking in the market bucks. The sound was like a mix tape. “Amber! Amber, did you see the angel, honey? Hold Amber up so she can see the angel. No, Amber, don't touch, honey. Makes you think twice about toilet paper, eh? Let's get one for Milo's birthday. I know he said he wanted a gun. We've been through this. The other grandparents can get him a gun. Gup! Gup! Gup! Gup! Will you have more gorillas next week? Can you hold me a gorilla? Don't know how you can do this for ten bucks a pop. It must take
hours
to make them.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Lynn saw a woman slipping one of the tubes into her bag.

“I can take your money for that right here, madam.” Madam? When did she ever say Madam? She knew and Madam knew she knew, and when she put it back on the table with a sneer, Lynn could not resist. “Ah, changed your mind?” She loved the way she sounded half-polite and half-tough.

Blossom was impressed. “How do you know how to do this?”

“Garage sales.”

“Oh, yes. Garage sales are where citizens pretend to be Underlanders.”

After half an hour some dark clouds appeared.

“Oh, phooey,” said Lynn. “Look at those clouds. That's the end of the nice day.”

“No,” said Fossick. “A cloudy day is better for us. Just look.”

As the sky darkened, the light through the tubes became even more effective. The crowd oohed and ahed and laughed. Children stood on tiptoes and adults crouched down. People knocked heads as they tried to get just the right angle for viewing.

The stock lasted just over an hour, by which time the bicycle lights needed recharging, and just like the lighting at an organized play the sun came out as they closed up shop. Lynn barely managed to save the laundromat tube for herself.

“What now?” she said.

“Now we shop.”

“Go with your friend,” said Fossick and handed Blossom the ziplock bag of market bucks. “I am going to have coffee and catch up on the news.”

Turned out that Blossom took the same approach to shopping that Lynn did. She was thorough and tireless and orderly.

They stopped at every stand. Apples, rainbow chard, filberts, fancy mushrooms, lettuce, honey, little yellow squash with necks, kale chips, jam, cheese, pink salt, chocolate cookies, woven bracelets, green onions, greeting cards made of felt, bread, scones, scarves, doughnuts and the Locavore Action Committee. Blossom chose with care, pulling market bucks out of the bag.

They bought in quantity — boxes of berries, a crate of greens, rounds of cheese, a case of jam, a big bag of bread — making several trips back to the table.

Lynn thought of those hanging wire baskets at the cottage.

“Do you have room to store all this?”

“Oh, we deliver most of it to friends on the way home. The bikes are heavier on the way back but it's downhill.”

“You give it away?”

“Most of it. But first we have the best lunch. Look, here's BeanMan. Do you like hummus?”

When they ran out of money, they went back to their table. Behind it, Fossick was napping on the ground, his jacket folded into a pillow under his head.

Lynn took the chance to stare. Awake, his face was so alive, so there that she hadn't really wondered about his age. Sleeping, he looked older, but there was still a ghost of a smile on his lips, like one of those Buddha statues.

The statue came to life with a snort when Blossom bounced an apple off his stomach. They sat behind the table and dipped into the snacks.

The Underlanders had their own approach to eating, combining things every which way. Lynn had always prided herself on being brave on the food front, so she tried it all. Green onions and honey on scones turned out to be excellent. Also apples with a sprinkle of salt.

The thing that surprised her most, however, was Fossick's approach to lettuce. He bit into it as though it was a large, leafy apple. Lettuce shards flew around.

He reached into the shopping bags, searching. “Are there more of those doughnuts?”

“No,” said Blossom. “All gone. Should I go get some more?”

Fossick turned over the ziplock bag and waved it in the air. “No more bucks.”

Lynn felt a flicker of self-consciousness. She had been chowing down with gusto and she had money.

“Um, I think I ate the last one. I can go get some market bucks at the front there and buy some more. ”