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. ”

“Goodness me, no,” said Fossick, lacing his hands across his stomach. “We have plenty of food here and doughnuts won’t travel home very well to Larch. But thank you.”

Lynn looked at the empty ziplock bag and felt the bulk of her wallet in her pocket. All morning she had felt like one of the gang and now she felt like an outsider, like a tourist to the Underland.

“Can I ask a question about, like, about money and all that? I don’t want to be rude.”

“Wait not upon your asking,” said Fossick, sitting cross-legged on the ground.

“Do you always spend all the money you make while you’re here? Don’t you cash any market bucks in for real money so you can save it?”

Blossom shook her head. “No. Not usually.”

Fossick tossed some dried blueberries into his mouth.

“It’s better to leave money in the place you find it. Keeping it, hoarding it, transporting it — that’s when it starts to cause problems.”

“But what if something comes up and you need to buy something. Something you can’t make or find or trade for? Like, oh, I don’t know.” Lynn did a quick reckoning of all the things you needed money for and came up with a blank.

“Once we figured out dentistry, there wasn’t that much else. Toilet paper we need to buy, and underwear. A few bus tickets. But we have money from returns for that.”

“But wouldn’t it be better just to work for money? I mean, money you can use for anything. It’s not like you don’t work. You seem to work all the time.”

“No. It wouldn’t be better to work for money. The game’s not worth the candle.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s from card games from long ago. The chances of winning are not worth the cost of burning a candle to light the game.”

“I don’t get it. What’s the card game and what’s the candle?”

“The card game is citizen life, working for money, using all your time and energy and creativity to earn money so that you can accumulate more and more things that you think will make you happy. Sofas and cellphones and — oh, I don’t know — collector plates. Then you just throw those things away. The candle that you burn is your soul.”

Lynn thought of her new boots. “But I like things. They do make me happy.”

“Me, too,” said Blossom.

Fossick looked a bit startled. “They do?”

Blossom nodded. “Sometimes.” She held out her wrist. “Like my bracelet.”

“But there are so many things in the world already. Did you know that there is a billion square feet of self-storage in America? That’s a billion square feet of stuff that nobody is using. There are already enough things without making new ones. We can just use what we’ve got. Fix it and use it. All this racing around earning and shopping and saving. It’s all just dancing for doughnuts.”

“But I like donuts,” said Blossom.

“Me, too,” said Lynn.

Fossick put the back of his hand to his forehead. “Woe is me! Rebellion in the ranks! Getting and spending we lay waste our lives! Doughnuts are not the goal of human existence. Doughnuts are not the endpoint of evolution. Doughnuts do not give our lives meaning.” With each sentence his voice got louder.

Lynn glanced sideways. Several people were standing at the table, staring.

Fossick cleared his throat and grinned. “Oh, all right. I concede. End of sermon. I like doughnuts, too. Obviously. It’s human to like doughnuts. I’ve changed my mind. If you would like to buy us three more doughnuts, Lynn, we would enjoy that very much, especially if they are the kind with jam in them.”

As she and Blossom stood in the doughnut line, Tron reappeared.

“It’s on,” he said. He was bouncing on his toes. “Wednesday night. Want to see something amazing, citizen girl?”

What was it about Tron that seemed to drive words away?

“Uh. Sure.”

“Okay, Blossom will fill you in on the details.”

“We’re getting doughnuts,” said Blossom. “Want one?”

“No. No refined sugar. My body is a temple.” He walked away, graceful as a lion.

Blossom shook her head. “Wednesday. Wait till he tells Fossick. Come on. Doughnuts.”

The market bucks kiosk was crowded. “So, fill me in on the details.”

“It’s going to be late. Very late. It probably won’t start until after midnight, so you’ll be out all night.”

“Yes, but what’s it?”

“It’s more fun if you don’t know.”

Out all night. Shakti had been so out of it lately that it had been easy to keep her happy with vague mentions of homework, the library, school stuff and seeing a friend, all backed up with regular texts. But out all night was a different challenge.

This was getting complicated.