The Encyclopedia of Me (8 page)

Except me, I guess.

I keep thinking about
skate
boarding and having dreams at night that I'm really doing it, with the clatter of the wheels on the pavement and the feel of the board under my feet. Which makes no sense, because other than that one terrible awful erase-it-from-your-memory INCIDENT, I've never done it! Not properly, anyway. Still, it's like it's
calling
to me, like when you are super hot, all sticky with sweat and ick, and you go to the beach and you look at all that cold bluish-grayish water and it's all you can do to not dive in with your clothes on.

I wanted to dive into Drop Mac Park. (That's a metaphor! If I dove into concrete, I would break my neck.) I wanted to just swoop and glide. I wanted to . . . try. Just to see if it was as
awesomesauce
53
as I thought it might be.

I stopped typing and came down from the Tree of Unknown Species.
54
I went to the basement where Seb's old skateboard was kept.
55
It was painted a faded dark green with a picture of a pirate flag. The wheels, however, were lit up and glowed orange. If I was hoping not to be noticed, I wouldn't have a chance.

“Go big or go home,” I whispered to myself, by way of encouragement. I found a helmet and knee pads and put them on.

Doing something alone felt weird and wrong, like I had my shoes on the wrong feet. Could I have an adventure
without
FB? But she was at her dad's and I wasn't allowed to call her there! What could I do? I hoped she wouldn't be mad.

I didn't try anything on the way. Instead, I carried the board all the way to Drop Mac Park. To get there, I had to walk ­directly by Mrs. O'Malley, who was perched, as usual, on her bench. She was enshrouded in a large plaid blanket, which was odd, as it was ninety degrees. She glared at me. I glared back.

“You look like a juvenile delinquent!” she shouted.

“How's Mr. Bigglesworth?” I said.

On cue, poor Mr. Bigglesworth stuck his head out of the bag and barked. His bark was quite listless. It was clearly a call for help.

“I'm calling animal control,” I whispered to him reassuringly. He growled. I kept walking.

“Woof,” said Mrs. O'Malley. I don't know if she was talking to me or to the dog.

I sighed. It was too hot to think of a witty comeback.

But underneath the hotness of the day, the air had that funny smell it has when fall comes, which made me think of back-to-school. Thinking about back-to-school made me feel off balance, so I ran. Running is a good way to stop your brain from turning. It works every time. I couldn't outrun back-to-school, but I could try.

When I got to the park, I had to rest in the shade until I could stop sweating and panting. Then I got up and self-consciously put the board in position. At first, I was really nervous. I couldn't get the feel of it. I scooted around a bit, keeping my pushing leg close to the ground so I didn't tip over. It felt way more wobbly than I'd thought it would. After a few passes just going back and forth on the flat, I tried lifting my foot a little higher. It didn't quite click. It was nothing like snowboarding either. I kept looking for the feeling inside me, the feeling of how to do it, and it just wasn't there. Inside, I was empty.

I thought about giving up. From across the park, I could hear music. A bunch of kids were sitting on the climbing thing, drinking huge Slurpees. They were laughing. I felt dumb.

But I didn't have anything else to do. And I just wanted to feel how it was supposed to feel. I wanted it to feel like the ground was like music I could hear through my legs, carrying me. I wiped the sweat that was dripping down my nose. I wished I'd brought a drink.

I picked the board up and looked at the wheels like I knew what I was doing, in case anyone was watching. Just so maybe they'd think it wasn't that I didn't know how to skate, but that something was wrong with my wheels.

Then I made myself try again. This time, I tried to relax the whole top part of my body. I pretended the ground was water and I was surfing. I breathed as deeply as I could. And I pushed off hard. Before I could even think about it, I swooped down one ramp. It was so fast, I crouched down automatically because it seemed like being closer to the ground was a better idea than being farther away.

And I did it! I was doing it! And it felt totally amazing! For about ten seconds!

And then I fell off. AGAIN. The board skidded out from under me, and my body twisted and hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of my lungs. I lay on the smooth, hot concrete, frying like an egg.

I looked up at the blinding sky and I felt . . . kind of giddy inside. Because I DID it. I knew I'd find it, and I found it: the feeling. Sort of like what I think love might feel like.

The same feeling I had when I climbed the tree for the first time.

Sort of the same feeling I had at the beach with Kai. NOT that I would tell anyone this, not even Freddie Blue. ESPECIALLY not Freddie Blue.

I was about to stand up and try the swoop again when someone blocked the sun. I squinted, but I could only see a silhouette.

“Hey!” said the person. “Whatcha doing?”

It was Ruth Quayle.

“Hi, Ruth,” I said.

“Are you OK?” she said.

“I'm good,” I said. “Really good.”

“Cool,” she said, plopping herself down next to me. I moved over a bit. I don't really like it when people are in my space too much. “I'm so psyched you're here! There are NO GIRLS at our school who have boards. SO LAME! Are you good? Let's see you do something!” Then she started listing these things, like ollies and wheelies and whateveries.

“I don't know the jargon,” I said. Then I shrugged, like I'm too tough to care about jargon, so she wouldn't think I was a total loser.

Not that I care what Ruth Quayle thinks! Freddie Blue doesn't like her, so it's not like she and I will ever be friends.

“Who cares?” she said. “Let's just kick it!”

“Sure,” I said. “I mean, I can try.”

“I'll show you stuff,” she said. “It's not hard! Really!”

I tried to do what she was doing without looking like I was trying to do what she was doing. She was AWESOMELY AMAZING! I don't know how she got so good. It was like the board was part of her. It looked easy and loose and not like she was trying or worrying.

Mostly I fell off over and over again, but with the pads on, it didn't hurt. I tried not to grin too much every time I did something where I didn't fall. After a couple of hours, I could swoop full speed down the big ramp and not fall off. I couldn't swoop back up the other side, but who cared? It felt amazing!

It may just have been my favorite new thing I've ever tried. Ever.

I mean, except for all the adventures I've had with Freddie Blue Anderson, of course. Those are still the best.

See also
Adventure; Boarding, Skate.

The terrifying underwater equivalent of worms or snakes. Electric eels are the scariest, as they can send electric impulses out with their brains, killing their prey with their minds. Eels have poisonous blood — do NOT eat them raw. And why would you? Disgusting!

Seb is currently obsessed with eels. He collects them from the beach in empty margarine tubs and leaves them all over the porch. Then he forgets about them and they die and stink to high heaven. If
I
accidentally killed an eel, he would never forgive me and would likely have me arrested and thrown in jail with no hope of parole. Ever. Seb goes totally berserk if anyone kills a living thing for any reason.
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However, the accidental murder of a creature by Seb does not seem to count as a crime at all. This is an excellent example of a paradox, and you can use it for your next English assignment if you want to impress your teacher and get bonus points for brilliance.

Sometimes the porch is just a writhing mass of disgusting eeliness. Other times, it is a stinking cesspool of decomposing flesh.

Which is the state it was in when I was interrupted from my work by a knock at the door.

“DAD, SOMEONE IS AT THE DOOR,” I shouted pointlessly. Dad was in the basement, rebuilding his Harley-­Davidson motorcycle.
57
I could hear the
clunk
,
whirr
of some kind of tools and the beat of the reggae he was blasting in the background. Seb and Lex were locked in mortal paddle-ball combat in their room. And Mom was, as usual, at work.

“I have to do everything around here,” I grumbled, swinging open the door.

Then I gasped. And blushed. And nearly fell into a bucket of congealed eel corpses.

“What are you doing here?” I said stupidly.

“Um,” said Kai. “Hi.” He lifted his hand in kind of a half wave.

“Hi,” I said, trying to get it together. I took a deep breath and then nearly gagged from the stench. “OMG, I am so sorry,” I blurted.

“Why?” he said.

“Because of the smell!” I said.

“Oh,” he said. He inhaled dramatically. “I can't smell anything,” he lied. “It reminds me of what my mom's cooking smells like, actually. Aaaah.”

“Liar!” I said, laughing. “It's totally grot, I mean, grotesque. Sometimes I shorten words because . . . well. Anyway, I know it! It's just . . . well, it's a long story. I guess.” I scratched the scab on my arm that was just healing, and it started to bleed. Great. I didn't want him to see, so quickly I said, “Anyway, what can I help you with?” I sounded like a greeter at Walmart, all formal and underpaid.

He looked over my shoulder. I knew he could see into the house. I turned to see what he was looking at, which was just the living room, stacked with my dad's
Everybody
mags, encyclopedias, and general junk.

“It's a mess,” I said. Then I nearly shrieked because I could see, on the top of the pile of
M
thru
Z
, a white piece of paper, covered in FB's handwriting, titled THE CRUSH LIST.

And on the top was Kai's name.

“You should go!” I said. “Thanks for coming by!”

“But I . . .” he said. “I wanted to . . .”

“OK THANKS SO I'LL SEE YOU AROUND,” I shouted.

Which is why he left.

And why I cried. I just couldn't let him see the list! What if — once he knew that Freddie Blue liked him — he stopped liking me and started liking her instead? Because she was so much prettier than me and really better in every way! So why wouldn't he? ANY boy thinking that FB liked them would go crazy with happiness! And I wanted him to be happy. I did.

Sort of.

But I also . . . well.

I think I have a really big, really bad crush on him. Big, because I can't stop thinking about him. Bad, because I
can't
have a crush on him. Because of Freddie Blue. So don't tell anyone I said that EVER or I'll tell Seb that you kill mosquitoes for fun and sport.

Anyway, I think I speak for everyone in the neighborhood when I say that we will all be relieved when the eel phase is over.

See also
Autism; Crush List.

Giant, soulless pachyderms who enjoy long walks in the woods, lifting logs, spraying water out of their trunks, and the taste of preschoolers.

I saw an elephant at a circus when I was four. Do you know how big an elephant is when you are four? Really big, I can tell you. And smelly. Also hairier than I would have expected. The eyes of this particular elephant were terrifying. I would have said elephants had kind and gentle eyes until I saw one. This one's eyes said, “I would like to eat you for lunch in spite of the fact that elephants don't eat meat.”

I was forced to ride the kid-eating elephant, squashed between Seb and Lex, and sobbing my little four-year-old head off. We still have the photo on the fridge. Boy, that's a magic moment you really want to remember forever.

The thing about it that I do remember most is the way that Seb and Lex each held one of my hands and sang to me so that I'd stop crying. They were pretty OK when they were little. I don't know what went wrong.

Charlotte Ellery is Seb's counselor. She comes to our house once a week to talk about how we all
feel
. She continually looks at me with an expression that I think she believes says, “I
care
about your feelings, Tink Aaron-Martin.”

Mom loves Charlotte because Charlotte makes Seb “open up.” Frankly, I feel like Seb could stand to be more closed. Seb is very, very good at talking about how he is feeling. His feelings, however, are the only ones that he is familiar with. For example, Charlotte asked him how he thought I felt when he called me Freckle Peckle, and he just stared at her. Like, “What? Tink has a
thought
? Actual
feelings
? Well, I never.” He couldn't come up with anything. Go figure.