The Cybil War (6 page)

“I don't know.”

“Bubsie Frasure!” He laughed. “Bubsie Frasure —you know he led our school patrol last year. If we got out of line, he'd stamp his foot? Well, look at this. You'll love it, Simon. Question One: Do you think about this person (a) occasionally (b) often (c) most of the time (d) all the time?” He looked at Simon. “And, Simon, my sister—I'm ashamed to tell you this—my sister has checked (d). My sister thinks about Bubsie Frasure
all the time.
”

Simon sighed.

“Simon, all the time! That don't leave room for arithmetic, nuclear energy, world affairs—nothing!”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Question Two: When you are not with this person you are (a) happy (b) content (c) unhappy (d) miserable. My sister once again has gone for the big D. Simon, she is
miserable
when she's—” Suddenly he lowered the notebook. “Hey, want to spy on them?”

“No.”

“They're on the back porch. We just have to crawl into the family room and hide under the picture window. Come on.”

Tony gave Simon a tug on his T-shirt, and they left the room. Simon, eyes cold and unsmiling, followed. They crouched beneath the window in time to hear this conversation:
But they say we're always thinking of something.

Tony punched Simon to get his attention. Then he grinned a Groucho Marx grin and crossed his eyes.

The conversation on the porch continued, but Simon did not hear it. He was stunned. He had never seen Tony Angotti cross his eyes before. He had never known he could cross his eyes—and Tony was not one to keep a talent like that hidden for three years. He felt confused, suspicious, betrayed. His face started to burn.

“Let's go. This is boring.” Tony mouthed the words.

They straightened, walked into the hall and through the kitchen. Simon stumbled over the doorsill and onto the porch in time to hear Annette say, “Bubsie, what are you thinking about
now
?
”

“I have to go,” Simon said quickly. He did not look at Tony. He knew all his emotions—even the ones he didn't understand—would be revealed in his red face.

Then he added defiantly, “I'm going to the pet show too, and I have to find a costume for T-Bone.”

“You're taking T-Bone to the pet show?”

“Yes.”

“Yes!”

“No offense, pal, but T-Bone—unless they're giving a prize for the dog who looks like he swallowed the most rotten bird—well, he hasn't got a prayer.

“I'll see you there,” Simon said. He kept his hands in his pockets so he would not smash Tony Angotti in the face.

“
W
hat on earth are you doing?” Simon's mother asked from the doorway.

He jumped as if he had been caught committing a crime. “Nothing,” he said quickly. He snatched the pirate's hat from T-Bone's head and attempted to hide the eye patch under his knee.

“Are you making a costume for the dog?” she asked. She moved into the room.

“What if I am?” he said, trying for dignity.

“Well, it just seems so odd. I cannot imagine
you
making a dog costume.”

“We're going to a pet show,” he said calmly. He waited, hoping she would go back to the kitchen so he could work on the eye patch.

His mother burst out laughing. He looked back at her. She was leaning against a chair, holding her waist.

“There's nothing funny about that,” he said.

She laughed harder. “It wouldn't be funny if it were anybody but you. I mean, you're so odd about costumes and never wanting to be noticed. And here you are dressing T-Bone up like Moshe Dayan!”

“He is a
pirate,
Mom.”

“Well, all I saw was the eye patch.” She laughed again and then tried to stop. She said, “Look, I'm sorry. It's just been such an awful day. I had to type four reports, and Mr. McBee came in and—”

“No, don't apologize. I'm delighted to be the object of such hilarity.”

“Now, I'm not laughing at
you
. I'm laughing at—” She paused to think of the object of her laughter.

“At what?” T-Bone nudged his knee, and the eye patch, a flimsy item made of cardboard and black elastic, fluttered into view.

His mother looked away. “Oh, I don't know. I better get back to the kitchen.” At the door she paused. “May I ask one favor?”

“You can
ask
.
”

“Let me see T-Bone before you go, when he's all in costume. Just let me see!”

“No, Mom, you'll laugh.”

“I won't. I promise.”

“You always promise and then you laugh.”

“This time I won't.”

“It's a terrible thing when a boy cannot believe his own mother.”

He glanced back at her. She was in the doorway, watching him with a faint smile on her face. She ran her hands through her short hair.

In the year after his dad left, Simon would have said, “Did you laugh at Dad like this? Isn't that really why he left?” But he had grown beyond that. He liked it when his mother laughed, and his dad probably had too.

He looked down at T-Bone and pulled out the pirate hat. He straightened it.

“I want T-Bone to look better than Tony's dog. I want T-Bone to beat him,” he admitted.

His mother came back into the room. Her smile was gentler now. “Well, put it on and let me see.”

He worked the eye patch over T-Bone's ears and into place. He opened the hat, set it carefully on T-Bone's head. He glanced back at his mom.

She was watching with her head cocked to one side. “He'll win,” she predicted.

T
hat afternoon Tony and Miss Vicki and Simon and T-Bone made their way to Harriet Haywood's. Tony was in a mood of great optimism. It was the sight of his aunt's poodle in costume that did it.

Simon was trying to think of this as a period of truce and to take pleasure in the fact that T-Bone was wearing his eye patch as nicely as if he really had a bad eye. Simon was not going to put the pirate's hat on him until the last moment.

“Miss Vicki could get Best Trick, Simon, if—and I admit this is a big if—if she will stop pulling at her diaper long enough to sit up and bark two times when I say, ‘How much are one and one, Miss Vicki?' Have you ever seen her do that?”

“I never saw the dog until five minutes ago, Tony.”

“I keep forgetting you don't know my aunt. Well, watch. How much are one and one, Miss Vicki? How much are one and one?”

Miss Vicki was twisted around pulling at her diaper. Tony tugged her leash and she looked up and whined. She couldn't get the diaper off by herself because Tony had made a hole in the diaper for her tail.

“She's not going to do it.” Tony leaned down and yanked up the sagging diaper so hard Miss Vicki's back feet left the ground. “Leave your costume alone.” He started walking again. “Man, I don't ever want to be a mother.”

As they crossed the street, Tony's spirits lifted again. “Maybe there'll be a balloon-popping contest. She's good at that. Or a praying contest.” He glanced at Simon. “But if she's not in the mood to pray, Simon, she won't pray.”

Simon was silent. He reached down and scratched T-Bone behind the ears. T-Bone raised his head and gratefully licked the air.

“There it is,” Tony said cheerfully.

They were now approaching Harriet's house. It was a scene of confusion. Cats were mewing sadly in tight-fitting doll clothes. A parrot was screaming. A cocker spaniel was trying to get in position to wet on someone's leg.

Harriet met them at the edge of the yard with her hands on her hips. She looked from Tony to Simon. “You two better not cause any trouble. I mean it.”

Tony held up his hands to show he was hiding no bad intentions. “We came to win prizes, Haywood, not to cause trouble.”

“That means you too, Simon.”

“Would Simon cause trouble?” Tony said innocently.

“Yes.”

Tony made a face behind her back as she turned away. “She's got your number, pal—hey, there's Bonfili. What you got, Bonfili?”

Billy Bonfili held up a turtle.

“Bonfili, you brought a turtle?” Tony called in disbelief. “What kind of prize you expect to win—Slowest? Man, I thought this was going to be a show for dogs and cats. I didn't know they were going to let reptiles in.”

Billy lowered his turtle and moved behind two girls with cats.

“Hey, Bonfili,” Tony called, “is that the same turtle you brought to school for Show and Tell in second grade? Remember that, Simon? Teacher, teacher, I'd like to tell about my little friend Snappy.”

“Lay off,” Simon said.

“You bring a turtle to a pet show, you got to expect turtle jokes.” Tony looked around. “You seen Ackerman anywhere?”

“Attention, everybody!” Harriet called from the steps. “We're going to select Best Costume first because some of the dogs are ruining their outfits. First contestant will be Paw-paw Ackerman.”

“There she is,” Tony said. “She brought a cat!” He sounded as delighted as if she had brought a unicorn. “Let's get closer.”

He pushed his way to the front and stood, eyes glowing, while Cybil displayed Paw-paw in a grass skirt and lei.

“Her cat's got them same legs,” Tony said to Simon. Then, louder, “Hey, Ackerman, you know what Simon just said? He said your cat's got them same—”

Simon lunged forward and jabbed Tony so hard in the ribs that he choked off the rest.

“What'd you do that for?” Tony demanded. He rubbed his side. “That hurt!”

It was the first time Simon had ever physically attacked anybody. He was stunned at the fury that had sent him, like an out-of-control car, into Tony Angotti. “I slipped,” he said.

“Well, watch where you're stepping.”

Simon nodded.

Cybil was twisting Paw-paw so that the lower half of the body was doing the hula. Paw-paw's slitted eyes reflected, Simon thought, the same helpless fury he himself felt.

“Second contestant—T-Bone Newton.”

Simon managed to get the pirate's hat on T-Bone and lead him forward.

“He should get a prize,” Cybil whispered as they passed. “He looks just like Long John Silver.”

“Thank you,” Simon muttered.

He led T-Bone to the steps and back into place. “I wish I'd thought to bring a little baby bottle,” Tony said. “That would clinch it for me.” He bent down to straighten Miss Vicki's cap, and it was then that he noticed Miss Vicki had wet her diaper.

He straightened abruptly. “I got to get out of here.”

“Next contestant—Miss Vicki Angotti!” Harriet called from the steps.

“Miss Vicki's withdrawing,” Tony called quickly. He said to Simon, “She wet her diaper. Let's get out of here.”

“Nobody will notice,” Simon said loudly. He counted on the sharp eyes of Billy Bonfili to catch the accident. “Go on!” He shoved Tony forward.

“Hurry
up,
” Harriet called. “We've got seventeen contestants in this event.”

Billy Bonfili stepped over to see what the trouble was. “Hey, he can't come because his dog wet her diaper,” he yelled happily.

Simon sighed, stepping back slightly to avoid being involved in the incident.

“Shut up, Bonfili,” Tony said.

“Anybody got an extra Pampa?” Billy called. “Tony needs one baaaad. His dog had a little aaaccident.”

“Lay
off,
Bonfili,” Tony said.

“It does make the costume authentic,” Cybil commented. She grinned and crossed her eyes.

Tony turned from side to side like a bear beset by dogs. Then he yanked Miss Vicki up beneath his arm. “Let's get out of here,” he said to Simon.

“I don't want to. T-Bone might win a prize.”

“No way. These things are rigged. Harriet's going to give the prizes to her friends. It was stupid of us to come. Let's
go
.”

“I'm staying.”

Tony glared at him. “Suit yourself,” he snapped.

Tony shoved his way through the crowd. He went behind a bush and removed Miss Vicki's diaper and cap. Then he came out, pulling her by her leash.

“Hey,” Billy called, “you forgot something behind that bush. Why, it's a little, tiny wet dog diaper.”

Now that her clothes had been removed, Miss Vicki—perhaps out of gratitude—was trying to say her prayers.

Tony glanced behind him to see what the trouble was with Miss Vicki. “You are not praying,” He jerked the leash as she again tried to put her head between her paws. “No praying!”

The crowd around Harriet's porch watched in pleased silence as Tony Angotti, head down, walked out of sight, dragging the prayerful Miss Vicki behind him.