Firecracker (13 page)

“No.”

“I need you to go. And not with me.”

“Dances are stupid. For stupid people. Who are stupid. You couldn't pay me to go. You don't have enough money.”

“You work at an ice cream stand that charges by the gummi bear, and I'm very rich,” I told him. “Of course I have enough money.”

“It doesn't matter.”

“Are you sure I can't entice you with a warehouse of ugly shirts or really good tickets to an angry concert?”

“You act like you know me. You don't know anything about me.”

“Again, I'm very rich. My grandfather has private investigators on retainer and the Internet is a giant pit of information. I know you work here. I know you got a scholarship to the Art Institute of Chicago but you're not sure if you should go because you think your band might take off. It won't. I know you got your heart broken last year by a girl named Tabitha and you don't have a good place to express your anger. And I know your brother spent two weeks in rehab and now he's very religious, your dad is in the navy, you lived in the Philippines for four years, and also,
puntang ina mo
.

“Did you just insult my mother in Tagalog?”

“Yeah, I only know how to curse in Tagalog. And you know what else I know—you owe me.”

“Why do I owe you?” he said.

“You owe me because when I could've made you cry, I didn't. And that's something you'll appreciate when you think back on your high school days.”

“I'll give you a free Typhoon. But that's it,” he said.

“You'll go,” I said.

“No.”

“You will. Because something is going to happen there that's pertinent to your interests and your life. If you miss it, well, you will have missed it forever.”

Then I handed him a fifty-dollar bill and walked away.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

*By the way, Lucy wanted to be a “veterinarian's assistant” one day.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

THINGS THAT EVERYONE SHOULD KNOW

By Astrid Krieger

 

Punching. (Make sure your thumb is outside your fist or you will break it.)

Basic lock picking. (You should also know complicated lock picking, but basic is enough for the short term.)

Essential bits of information about things boys like, in case you need something from them. These include but are not limited to football, Superman, and how to wear a baseball hat.

Where the nearest knives are located.

How to curse in at least three languages.

Basic anatomy, i.e., where to hit or kick someone so it will hurt most.

How to make an Old Fashioned. (You might only need to know this if you and I have the same grandfather and he told you a hundred times that the only thing you really need to know in life is how to make an Old Fashioned. Either way, it's one sugar cube, three dashes of Angostura bitters, club soda, and a two-count of rye whiskey.)

L
isbet had been conspiring to dress me and do my hair and makeup for practically my whole life. I didn't know what the appeal of it was, but I didn't know a lot of things, like how microwave ovens worked. She was last able to fulfill her wish when I was about two years old, and she managed to get her hands on me just long enough to transform my toddler self into a horror movie clown-demon. Since then, I'd always managed to outrun her and her lipstick weapons. She would plead, “Please. I just want to flat iron your hair for two hours.” Doing makeovers was not something Lisbet
wanted
to do. It was something she needed to do, similar to breathing and eating a celery stalk every other day.

But my streak of good luck was not going to last forever. This was her wedding day. She had a team of serious women waiting in the east wing of the house to powder her face and shine and lacquer her hair into a stiff architectural structure. On that day, she could have whatever she wanted, and she wanted to make me over. So I'd agreed. And it wasn't a trick. It happened.

After pulling hair extensions and sharp-heeled shoes from her closet, after holding the bridesmaid dress up to my body, and thinking, and going back into her closet, and thinking some more, and discovering a bra that “will be invisible to everyone,” and after a long jag where she seemed to be building another person out of the air with her fingers—Lisbet tied me into a bunch of fabric. It had a lot of detailing that she referred to by a lot of names, but I can only describe it as a shiny yellow dress.

“You look so beautiful, Astrid,” she said.

I was less immediately inclined to agree. “This dress makes me look like a Polish prostitute,” I told her.

“Hey!” Lisbet had a lot of loyalty to clothes, and she did not like people speaking ill of them.

“And not like one of those Hungarian prostitutes with their
standards
.”

“This dress was very expensive.”

“Really? How much did you spend on this thing?”

Lisbet tried to do math, then gave up. “I don't know. I had it made in Tokyo, and I can't convert money in my head. But it was one point five million yen.” Lisbet had me tilt my head up so she could administer powder to my cheeks, and she tilted her head down because I'd hurt her feelings.

“It's a very nice dress, Lisbet,” I said. “You know how I am. This is just weird for me.”

“I know. But it's great.”

We were both quiet for a few minutes while Lisbet decorated my mouth. When she finished, I looked at myself in the mirror. As difficult as it was to admit, Lisbet had done a very nice job.

“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for making me look nice, Lisbet.”

Lisbet smiled. “You're welcome.”

“I'm sorry I put a dead frog in your flute when we were kids.”

“You did?” she said. “It's okay. Everything is okay. Because at two o'clock, I'll be married.”

Behind Lisbet was a stack of robin's-egg-blue boxes full of engagement presents she was planning on returning. All of a sudden, I realized they could be incredibly useful. “Can I have some of those?” I asked. “They'll go to a good cause. Every door is a window.” Happily, she agreed.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

The wedding planner instructed me to wait in the foyer until she gave the sign for the music to start and the walk down the aisle to proceed. The wait was long and boring. There had been a rehearsal dinner the night before, but no one had actually rehearsed anything. I had no idea what I was supposed to do when the event began. I had agreed to read a passage from Corinthians and anticipated it would be followed by a lightning strike and the wedding party getting swallowed up into the gates of hell. I had looked up my duties, and mostly I was just supposed to walk up the aisle and stand there, which was something I could definitely do. Also, I had yet to decide if, when the minister said, “
If anyone sees any reason why these two shouldn't be married blah blah forever hold your peace,”
I would say, “Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce,” or “Lisbet farted.” Both sounded good.

I was to walk down the aisle with the best man, Randy's friend from college, who said, “Everyone calls me Jimmy Raincoat. Wanna know why?”

“No,” I said. “I don't wanna know why.”

My dad and Vivi were also waiting in the foyer. Vivi smiled as if to say,
“This is the sort of daughter I signed up for. I signed up for a daughter who looks like this.”

“You look beautiful, sweetie,” my mother said. It may have been the first time she had ever said anything like that without adding something like,
But why must you make that face all the time?

My father was puzzled. “Who does she look like?”

“I don't know,” Vivi said.

“You don't know who I'm thinking of?”

“I don't.”

Then my dad snapped his fingers, having figured it all out. “Leslie Van Houten.”

“The Manson girl?” Vivi said.

“The prettiest Manson girl,” he clarified. Leslie Van Houten murdered people in the sixties, but she also did happen to have nice cheekbones, so my father meant that as a compliment.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Noah. His suit didn't fit him very well. He was holding a corsage. The box was all fogged up from being in the refrigerator all day. I was familiar with the look that boys get when they want to touch you or grab you or kiss you. He didn't look like that, though. It was more a look of admiration. Maybe it was the way you would look at the Grand Canyon from very far away. I certainly wasn't used to someone looking at me like that. I had no idea what to do with it.

“I was waiting in one of the big rooms, but I wanted to see you,” he said. “You look beautiful.”

“Go on . . .
” I said, batting my eyelashes.

Noah took the corsage out of the box. It was white, purple, and yellow. He had done a good job finding flowers that looked nice with the dress. I thanked him and said, “How did you know I like presents?”

He left to sit down and wait for the processional with the other guests, but he returned five minutes later. He leaned in, a serious expression on his face, and whispered, “I heard something. I heard someone talking. I thought you needed to know.”

“What?”

“I heard they, um, lost the groom.”

“He's dead?” I asked.

“No,” he said, “not that kind of ‘lost.'”

The wedding planner was a stern woman named Ms. Antoinette, and she buzzed throughout the back hall and frowned and snapped her fingers a lot. I stopped her as she tried to whiz by me. I leaned in very close to her face. “Is there a problem?” I asked pointedly.

“Just stay here,” she said. “It'll start soon.”

“Listen, we could go back and forth like this or you can tell me. If you haven't noticed, I'm the maid of goddamn honor.”

“We can't find the groom,” she whispered, looking nervously toward the crowd of restless guests.

“And you've looked everywhere? Couch cushions? Are you sure you're not confusing him for one of the caterers? He's very uninteresting looking.”

She shook her head.

“Does my sister know?”

Ms. Antoinette shook her head again. “No. Not yet.”

“Don't say anything. How long can you stall?”

“However long I have to,” she said.

I grabbed my cousin Gretchen by the arm. “You stay with this woman, okay?” I told Gretchen. “Make sure Lisbet is happy. And that she stays happy. Sing to her or something. Keep her distracted.”

“Well, hello to you too, Astrid,” Gretchen said.

“I have no time for this.”

“The last time I saw you, you closed a piano lid on my nose.”

“It won't happen again. I promise. I don't even know where the piano is anymore.”

I casually walked over to the best man. I didn't want to make a scene or anything. I said, “Listen, I need you to tell me—”

“Why they call me Jimmy Raincoat? Of course,” he said. “Back in college, it rained for all of October and at the same time my roommate's name actually
was
Jimmy—”

“Forget it,” I said and took Noah by the arm. “Let's find my grandfather.”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

My grandfather was in his library, which I found odd, because he should've been outside waiting for the wedding to start like everyone else. I figured it was because he was very old and tended to forget a lot of things. (He referred to Lisbet as “Wanda” at least five times a day.) But this was still weird. Most of the guests were people he knew, and my grandfather liked seeing me in nice clothes.

“Stay here,” I said to Noah. “Don't say anything to him, okay?”

Noah nodded.

“There's a wedding going on, you know?” I said to my grandfather.

“Is there a groom?” he wanted to know.

“How did you know there wasn't?”

“Does it matter? It means I can stay here all I want, can't I? No groom, no wedding.”

“Where is he?”

“Wanda will meet someone else, I'm sure. She has a real fertile look. Let's get out of here. I have at least three children of mine on the main lawn, and I'd like to duck away before your uncle Ellery starts asking for money.”

“We need a groom. I need to do this for Lisbet. Please. Tell me what you know.”

“I need to go to a bar,” he said.

“I'll make you a drink right here.”

“No. The groom. I left him in a bar. If you want him, I'm sure he's still there.”

I didn't know what to say, but I didn't have time to fight about it.

“How are you, son?” Grandpa had finally noticed Noah.

“This is Noah,” I said.

My grandfather waved the smoke around the room. “Don't you think I know who Noah is?” There was no reason my grandfather should have known who Noah was.

“No, Grandpa,” I said. “The Noah you're thinking of is the one with the ark.” Then I looked back at Noah. “Grandpa and Noah with the ark went to high school together.”

“You know how to drive, kid?” my grandfather said.

“Yes,” Noah replied.

“Fine. We'll save the wedding, then. Unless you can think of a more entertaining way to spend our afternoon. I can think of thousands.”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

“Not this one,” the senator said. We had been to three bars in Cadorette. Noah drove like he was carpooling a soccer team of seven-year-olds, so we'd already wasted an absurd amount of time. “It's the one where they don't show sports. There's no television at the bar I'm thinking of.”

“With all due respect, sir, I just need to know the name of the place,” Noah said.

“Do you really think I'd go to a bar where the ladies are dressed as referees? I require my liquor from a man in shirtsleeves. It would be a mistake to trust anyone else,” Grandpa said.

“He likes the hotel bar,” I said, remembering where it was.

I looked at my grandfather as we drove. He was slipping. Everyone knew he was slipping. But I'd never really believed it. My whole life, he always knew what he was doing. Even on days when he forgot to put on pants, he'd had his reasons. It was just that lately, he must've had a lot of reasons for not putting on pants. Finally I saw the hotel coming up on the right, and I told Noah to pull over.

“Are you going to give me any information or am I paddling alone here?” I asked my grandfather. “Why isn't Lisbet's fiancé at his wedding?”

“He made a choice,” my grandfather said. “I'm the kind of man who gives people choices. But I can't make up his mind for him.”

“Very helpful,” I said as I stepped out of the car.

“What did you bring? What are you going to do to him?” Grandpa said. “Is there a knife in the glove compartment I don't know about? Remember what I taught you about sea anemones.”

“I didn't bring anything,” I said. “I'm not going to hurt him. I'm just going to make this better.”

Grandpa laughed. “Sure thing, kitten.”

I looked at Noah, who was giving me a pleading look.

“No matter what he says, don't cry around my grandfather,” I instructed him.

“Don't worry,” Grandpa said. “We'll have a nice talk too.”