Republic of Dirt (22 page)

Y
ou never seen anything like the goddamned production around here getting ready for Halloween. First it was me and Eugene and Seth drawing up plans. Eugene had to keep taking breaks to see if Prudence needed anything and tend to sick animals. He must have done a good job looking after Prudence, because the next afternoon she got out of bed and got in on the action.

Seth had covered about ten sheets of paper with sketches that all looked like a jumble of sticks laying this way and that and some blobby circles that was supposed to be blood. I don’t have a clue what goes on in Seth’s head, and from looking at those drawings that’s probably best.

Anyhow, after a half-hour he said he had to go “confarb” with his mom, and that was fine as frog’s hair with me because Old Man Spratt come driving up the road, only he wasn’t in his taxicab, he was riding passenger in a tow truck with a flatbed on it, and on that flatbed was the sorriest wagon you ever saw.

Prudence came high-tailing it outside, Eugene right behind like a
mother duck. By the time I got out there, Prudence had the gate open and that tow truck drove right into the pasture. Anyone else’s farm, and that truck would have sunk, tires spinning like ball bearings on fresh ice, but we don’t got hardly any dirt on this place.

There was a whole lot of beeping and blinking while the driver unloaded the wagon. When he was done, he got out, stood back, looked at it and said, Good luck with that. Then he drove out again, leaving us staring at the thing. The wagon looked like it was built by the same outfit that made the shack at the end of the driveway. Not up to code is what I’m trying to say.

Seth had come back from his mother’s place across the road. He caught my eye and I saw that he was thinking along the same lines, but we didn’t say nothing because Prudence was acting like she’d been wanting a dog for ten years and someone finally brung her a Labrador retriever puppy.

A wagon, she kept saying. A chariot! It’s just what I’d hoped for. Perfect for my plan.

If her plan was to get some people killed by a mule pulling a cart made of cracked, splintered wood with wheels so worn-out they were practically squares, then she was in luck.

Needs some work, said Old Man Spratt. But I figure it’ll do what you’re after.

How much do we owe you? asked Prudence.

Spratt said he got a deal on it from a guy who just wanted it out of his barn.

Seth said that was probably because the guy’s whole family died in a tragic wagon accident.

Prudence and Eugene told Seth to hush up and call his mother to ask when she planned to deliver the bodies.

I’ll say this for Old Man Spratt. He minds his own business. Least-wise, he didn’t say nothing about the bodies comment.

By this time, Lucky and Bertie, who’d both run off to the edge of the field when the tow truck come in, had decided it was safe to come close again. They stood right behind Spratt. The big red mule flared his nostrils at the wagon.

Old Man Spratt said, Now Luck, and I swear that mule looked embarrassed. Spratt said he was going to work on the wagon out in the field so that Lucky could get used to it. Once he had the wheels replaced and some other things fixed up, he was going to hook Lucky up to it and start driving him.

Where the hell you going to drive him? I asked. That mule’s a runner. Things could get dicey if he had a cartload of people behind him.

We’ll start by going around the field, said Spratt.

While Spratt caught Lucky, me and Prudence wandered back down to meet Seth’s mother at the shack. She drove her goddamned Tempo across the road and sat in it with the driver’s door partway open while Seth unloaded the car. She kept her eyes squinted shut against the smoke leaking out of the cigarette she kept tucked in the corner of her mouth. Seth pulled the most ungodly shit you ever seen out of that vehicle, but I had to admit it looked right for the job. There was dolls made of plastic and dolls made of socks and stuffed animals of every description. There was fake blood and cobwebs and little outfits and you name it.

You have as much stuff as Pattie’s Party Palace, said Prudence, who is always full of compliments.

Used to work at Harvey’s Halloween Emporium, said Seth’s mom.

Must have been when she was a teenager. I’ve never known her to work and I been living across from her for twenty years.

Oh, this is going to be great, said Prudence. She held up a cardboard box marked “Zomby.” I might not be an eleventh-grade English teacher, but even I know that’s not how you spell it.
Zombie
ain’t one of your harder words.

When Seth had everything out of the car, his mother started the car. Aren’t you going to stay? he asked her, and she said she’d come over later. It was a Halloween marathon on TV, and her boyfriend, Bobby, was bringing back chicken wings from Costco.

Prudence made a face.

Seth made a face too, but it was the opposite kind of face.

Can he bring enough for us? said Seth.

You got money? asked his mother, who is not exactly a molly-coddler.

I could see he was about to complain or get into it with his mother and I was thinking I might just pay the woman. Me and Prudence’s late uncle Harold used to eat them Costco wings all the time.

Before I could say anything, Prudence piped up and said we don’t need any wings. She’s got dinner all planned out. She told me and Seth she’d make us soy fingers with her special hot sauce instead.

Me and him exchanged a look because of all the things Prudence feeds us, probably the worst is them pretend chicken fingers. It’s like eating rotten erasers. Not only that, she keeps trying to sneak that liquid heartburn she calls hot sauce on everything, even after what happened. She says she cut it with vinegar and some other ingredients so it’s not as hot, but you might as well put your ass directly into a tub of ice if you take so much as a bite.

It was obvious from Seth’s mother’s face, all scrunched up under the stream of cigarette smoke, that she didn’t care what the hell we ate.

If you want wings, tell me in the next minute, she said.

We have all we need right here, said Prudence. If these guys don’t feel like having soy fingers, maybe I’ll have enough energy to make zombie brain for dinner. Get us in the mood for Halloween.

We all looked at her, even Seth’s mother, who couldn’t wait to get back to her TV.

Baked celery root on a bed of mushrooms and barley, said Prudence.

Yeah? says Seth’s mother. I saw that in Jamie Oliver. Looks like shit on a plate. Does it taste good?

I don’t know. I only just looked at the recipe in Thrifty’s. I’ve got the book on hold at the library.

Prudence don’t buy new books. Just gets ‘em out of the library. She’s pretty economical for a city woman.

I can loan you mine. Bobby got it for me even though I don’t like him bossing me about eating healthy food, said Seth’s ma.

Thank you, said Prudence. I’d love to borrow it. This one mentioned that he’d like to learn more about vegetarian cooking. She gave Eugene a playful poke with her finger. He give the rest of us a fake smile.

Then he left and Seth’s ma left and the three of us stood there, staring at dolls and crafts and glue guns and Zomby boxes.

Prudence took a long gander at the pink shack.

I’ve asked a girl from the International High School to hand out the candy. She’s the only one I can think of who will fit easily in the playhouse. Her name is Anulka and she’s from Cameroon. She’s very excited to experience a real North American Halloween.

Also, we need a big sign to advertise our farm stand and the Halloween party. Maybe put a spotlight on it so people can see it in the dark, she said.

You mean for the two people who drive past every night? said Seth.

And let’s put the candy in little bags that advertise the farm, for Anulka to hand out. People will find that charming, Prudence said. She put her hands on her hips. And we should put seeds in the bags! To encourage people to do what they can at home.

Absolutely. Seeds. That should be a big hit with the children seeking candy, said Seth.

Prudence was nodding, happy as a clam in love. We’ll do the major renovation in the spring. Right now, we’ll focus on getting Sara back and the barn built. Those are our top priorities!

She went back up to the house to bed and Seth got to unpacking decorations. I went to write my note for little Sara.

I
had an extremely memorable Halloween.

I was staying with my mom and I wasn’t feeling good. Also, a lot of things were going wrong in my life, even things in my life that are normally really fun, like Poultry Club. There’s so much to tell that it’s probably best just to tell it and not try to explain it too much.

Jr. Poultry Fancier’s Club was having a dress-up party after our meeting and then we were going to go trick-or-treating to local farms.

My mom forgot that it was Halloween and about the party. I had to wake her up that morning. We had stayed in our old house on the floor because I told her I might be getting a cold. She said it would be okay for one night. She didn’t even blow up her air mattress, but instead she wrote in her journal for most of the night.

After I got up, brushed my teeth and got dressed, I put my foamy and sleeping bag in the car. Then I woke her up.

She looked at me like she didn’t know who I was.

“Don’t you have to go to work?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Not today,” which means she got fired.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

She sat up. She was wearing her jean-look slacks. They are way too big on her now. She also had on a green dress shirt. It made me sad to think of her going to bed in her clothes.

I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want her to think I was being critical. Other kids’ mothers didn’t wear their clothes to bed and sleep on the floor of their empty houses or in cars in empty campgrounds.

“I’ve got a lot to do around here,” she said, which was true now. The realtor said we might have to repaint inside the house because my mom had washed so much paint off the walls.

“Are you okay to get to school by yourself?” she asked. “I thought I’d do a little more writing this morning.”

“I just need my Halloween costume,” I said.

I wear the same thing every year. A few years ago, Mr. Lymer’s wife, Bonnie, made four Leghorn costumes for kids whose moms don’t sew. I’m the only one still wearing mine three years later. Good thing it’s one size fits all. I really love it. It’s got a lot of very realistic details, such as a red comb and yellow legs.

My mom sighed and put her hands over her face and dragged them down. She probably shouldn’t do that, because her wrinkles are getting worse every day from lack of sleep and staying in the car and losing so much weight.

“Do you really have to have it?” she said. “Maybe this year you could go as something else. How about a ghost?” That meant she wanted me to wear a sheet because she was too depressed to find my Leghorn costume in storage. It wasn’t fair. Plus, our sheets all had flowers on them, so I’d just look like a sheet!

I started yelling at her even though I didn’t mean to. I’ve never
done that before in my whole life. I have an extremely even temperament. Everyone comments on it. But I was screaming that I had to have my Leghorn costume and that she was being mean and that she didn’t care about anyone except herself and her stupid journal and she was supposed to be my mother. There was this part of me that felt like I was watching the fight from far away, maybe from the little fort at Woefield. My mother just sat on the floor, still tangled in her sleeping bag, and stared like she had never seen me before.

I was crying and I told her not to bother finding my costume. I told her I’d go to the party without one. Then I grabbed my backpack and left without having a granola bar or anything. Mrs. Mooreland from next door was in her driveway. She is always watching when we come and go, and she’s seen us bring our sleeping bags and bedding into the house. She’s very nosy. She asked me what was wrong, but I pretended I didn’t hear her. I stopped crying at the end of our subdivision cul-de-sac, and by the time I got to school I didn’t feel anything at all except for a runny nose, headache and a sore stomach from not eating breakfast.

To be honest, I think my mom might be having a breakdown and that she might be giving me one, too.

Anyway, the school day went okay except for me falling asleep in Math and getting sent to the nurse’s office. Mr. Fisker let me nap for a half-hour and Miss Singer came to the nurse’s station and left an apple and a Fruit Roll-Up and a box of chocolate milk for me. She’s an excellent teacher. I bet she’s going to be principal one day.

At lunch, I asked Target if he wanted to come to the Poultry Club Halloween party with me and he said he couldn’t because he was going out with his foster moms and his sisters. I asked what he was going as and he said Esme made him a professional wrestler
outfit with big muscles and everything. He told me the name of the wrestler, but I didn’t know him because I don’t know much about wrestling except what I know from reading one of my favorite books of all time,
The Reluctant Journal of Henry K. Larsen
, which is about a kid who has a sad tragedy in his family and who likes wrestling. I usually feel sorry that I don’t have any siblings, but if I did, I didn’t want them to be extremely tragic ones.

I told Target his costume sounded amazing.

He asked if I wanted to go with them. He said Esme and Fran had lots of de-gendered costumes from when Stephanie and Ariel were younger.

I said I couldn’t because I’m really active in Poultry Club and they would be expecting me. I said that even though part of me didn’t feel like I was very important to the club anymore. It was hard for me to visit my birds and I didn’t live on a farm. I barely even lived in a house anymore. In fact, since I moved away from Woefield, I didn’t have very many leadership qualities at all. Also, I didn’t know what
de-gendered
meant.

Target seemed kind of excited about Halloween, so I didn’t tell him that I didn’t have a costume. After meeting his brother, I bet he’s had some Halloweens that were not that fun. I wanted him to enjoy this one.

Thinking that actually made me feel better. I used to have caring thoughts like that all the time before the parent-teacher meeting when everything went wrong. In fact, I used to be very interested in problem-solving and helping others. I remembered Seth telling me about the Principle of As If. He said it was one of his main techniques that he used to stop drinking. He said he acted as if it wasn’t hard to stay sober. Then he acted as if he didn’t hate going out in
public. He used As If to make himself do work, which is another of his least favorite things. He said faking bravery was an excellent technique for overcoming fear.

Back when he told me that, I felt bad for him being a grown-up and having to pretend about so many things, but now that I am getting a lot of fears too, I think it’s an excellent suggestion. I guess I always had fears, though the doctor said it was anxiety, which I think is different. My anxiety is why I need stomach medication, but I used to be mainly afraid of my parents fighting. I had no idea there were so many ways life could go wrong. There are A LOT of opportunities to act as if!

I decided to act as if I didn’t need any help getting ready for Halloween. Instead, after I ate my snack at the nurse’s station, I asked Mr. Fisker if he had an extra plain white sheet I could borrow. He said he didn’t think so and why did I want one. I said I forgot my Halloween costume and needed to make another one for the party at the Fancier’s Club.

He asked what the Fancier’s Club was and I told him it was for people who like poultry.

He had a lot of questions about what we did and really seemed impressed with my answers. I acted as if I didn’t mind answering all his questions, even though anyone who lives in a rural neighborhood and eats eggs should already know at least the basics about chickens.

Miss Singer came along when we were talking and said she could help me get a costume together after school. She asked how I felt about robots and I said they were okay.

When the bell rang, I met her in the art room and she started pulling things out of the supply cupboard.

She made a robot body out of a big box with holes cut out for
my arms and legs. She covered the whole thing with tinfoil and then she glued plastic pieces on it to make buttons and knobs. Miss Singer found another box for my head and made a slit for my eyes. The art teacher, Ms. Ouillette, came in and helped glue tinfoil on the head box, and they asked if I wanted antennae and I said I didn’t think robots had antennae. They looked sort of disappointed, so I said antennae would be cool, even though I was supposed to be a robot and not a radio.

I looked at the costume in the mirror and said I wondered if it would be neater if we made the robot into an iPod. I really want an iPod so I can listen to educational podcasts, but my parents say Apple products are too expensive.

Ms. Ouillette looked at her watch and said she had to take her kids out trick-or-treating, but Miss Singer said an iPod was a good idea. Ms. Ouillette told us to have fun and then she left. Miss Singer pulled all the buttons off the body box and then we drew a touch screen and glued it to the front of the box and cut a slot for my eyes and covered it with a screen so it was sort of invisible.

“What are you playing, iPod?” asked Miss Singer.

I answered her in a funny robot voice and said I was playing Volbeat. I know about them from Seth because they’re his favorite temporary group.

“Volbeat,” said Miss Singer. “Let’s print out an album cover.”

So she got on the computer and printed it out. She even played one of their songs on YouTube and I was embarrassed because they are so noisy. I don’t even like them that much. I just like how much Seth likes them. Anyway, Miss Singer put the cover on the photocopier and blew it up and put it on the touch screen. Then we drew on the controls. We used her iPod as a model. I saw that she was
listening to
This American Life
, which she said is an entertaining program.

Being an iPod was even more excellent than being an old-fashioned box robot like I was before!

The only thing that was missing was the headphones, but Miss Singer fixed that too! She grabbed an old electric cord and punched a hole through the head box and threaded it through. Then she spray-painted two foam balls black, like huge earbuds!

“What time is it?” asked Miss Singer. She was sweating quite a bit.

“Five,” I said.

“What time’s your party?”

“Five-thirty.”

“Are your parents picking you up?”

“I’m going to walk to the high school.”

“But your parents are going to pick you up from the party?” said Miss Singer.

“Yes,” I said, even though I didn’t know if my mom would remember.

“I’m going that way. Can I give you a ride?”

I said no because I didn’t think I could sit down in her car in my box and I didn’t want to have to put it on in the parking lot, because then everyone would know it was me and I wanted it to be a surprise.

She said she understood.

It was raining a little bit, so Miss Singer gave me her umbrella. She said she was glad I was reflective, which I was from all the tinfoil on my box. Then she hurried and got her coat. She said she would walk me over. That was nice, because I was scared to walk along the path by myself on Halloween when it was getting a little bit dark. I could already hear people setting off firecrackers.

When we walked out of the school, I looked around the parking lot to see if my mom was waiting for me in the car, but she wasn’t.

Walking through the trees to the school would have been scary if Miss Singer wasn’t with me. There were no high school kids smoking in the clearing, which was a relief. Miss Singer took me into the main doors of the high school.

“Everything’s bigger over here, isn’t it?” she said.

That was a good observation because it was true. The hallways were very empty and bright.

“Where’s the party?” she asked, but I didn’t know. If we were going to a Pony Club meeting, we probably would have known from the music, because the Pony Club kids are pretty wild, but Poultry Club is quieter.

“That’s fine,” said Miss Singer. “We’ll find them.”

We walked down a couple of hallways until we saw someone dressed as a big blue egg go into a room.

“There they are!” I said.

“A giant robin’s egg,” said Miss Singer. “How pretty.”

“That’s Dmitri. He raises Ameraucanas.”

“Oh,” said Miss Singer in a way that told me she didn’t understand what I meant.

So I told her that Dmitri was dressed as an Ameraucana egg and that only three types of chickens lay blue eggs: the Ameraucana, the Araucana and the Cream Legbar.

“If I was him, I’d raise Araucanas or Legbars. Araucanas have cool ear tufts and Cream Legbars have really nice feathers.”

Miss Singer looked at me. “Is that right?”

“If you want to learn more about chickens, you can come to the party,” I told her. “Everyone likes to talk birds.”

Miss Singer smiled. She has a very nice smile, even when she looks tired, which she sort of did, probably from working so hard to make me into an iPod for the party.

Is it wrong that I wished for a minute that Miss Singer was my mom instead of my actual mom? Sometimes I also wish Prudence was my mother. I feel bad when I do that but I can’t seem to stop.

Miss Singer said she’d love to know more about chickens, even though I’ve written quite a few essays and stories about them and so she should know some stuff already, but she had to go home in case she got some trick-or-treaters. I bet she has a pretty house and a carved pumpkin and hands out those little chocolate bars and everything.

I asked where she lived, in case the club went trick-or-treating near there, but unfortunately she lives near one of the malls in the north end of town. There was no way we were going to get to go all the way to the far end of town, even though I bet they have the best candy over there.

She told me to have a great time and I went into the room. There was some Christian rock music playing, because some of our members won’t listen to other kinds of music, which is okay because the music they play is cool. I could tell who almost everyone was from their costumes. That’s because most of the outfits were bird-themed, but not all, luckily, or I would have felt bad, even though my iPod costume was pretty good.