Charades
In New England, spring begins in May. It isn’t until then that I accept Keisha’s invitation to go over to her house. Our friendship so far has consisted of me walking her home, something that allows me to pass Matt Perino’s house twice in one day. Now that the weather is warm, he’s out with his brothers playing basketball or tossing a baseball on the front lawn. When we walk by, I try not to look at him. I wonder what it is about him that has always made me feel funny.
“That boy who plays the viola,” Keisha is saying. “I asked him what he wanted to do when he grows up and you know what he said?”
“No.”
“Cats.”
“Cats?” I giggle.
“And I’m like, the musical? ‘No,’ he goes, ‘feline behavior. I want to be an animal psychologist.’ Do you think that’s weird? I mean . . . What? He’s going to do kitty analysis?” Keisha tries her front door. Then she looks under a potted plant. “Nathan always does this. He locks the door and hides the key. Once, I had to climb in through the window!” She pounds on the door.
Finally, it cracks open. Nathan is tall and looks about Sally’s age. “No soliciting.” He tries to close the door, but Keisha is fast. She wedges herself in the opening, then slides in.
Another boy stands watching. “Today’s entertainment,” he says.
“I have a friend here,” Keisha says, scolding her brother. “So act like a human being, for once.”
“Hi, Keisha,” the other boy says.
“What’s going on?” Keisha’s mom appears from the kitchen, a dish towel in her hand. “Oh, is this Lin?” She has a pretty southern accent. “So glad to finally meet you. Come on in and have a snack.”
“Hi, Keisha,” the boy repeats.
Keisha doesn’t answer. We follow her mom into the kitchen. “Who’s that boy?” I whisper.
“That’s Gregory, Nathan’s friend. They’re stuck together like glue.”
“I think he likes you.”
“Yeah, he does, but that’s because I won’t give him the time-o-day. If I did, he wouldn’t be interested anymore. That’s the first rule of thumb with boys; never let them know you’re interested.”
“Cookies and milk?” Keisha’s mom sets a plate in front of us.
“Thank you, Mrs. King.” I have a pang of missing Obaachan, although she’s the one who told me I should go to Keisha’s house. As Sally would put it, Get a life.
“Those have peanuts in them, in case you’re allergic, but the others don’t. They just have coconut.”
“They’re very good. Thank you.”
“You’re so polite.”
Nathan and Gregory skulk in. They each grab a handful of cookies.
Mrs. King swats at them with the dish towel. “Put those back. You would think you were raised in a barn. One cookie at a time.” She pushes the plate away from the boys. “I am gonna water my plants and I better not hear any scrapping between you two.”
“We’ll play nice as angels.” Nathan puts his hands into a prayer position.
The boys flop down at the table. “I know you.” Gregory points to me. “My dad owns Café Soiree on Benefit Street. You’re always walking down by the river with that old lady who looks like she’s from another planet.”
“That’s my grandmother.”
“How rude,” Keisha scolds.
“A nice planet,” Gregory corrects.
“Y’all want to play something,” Nathan says.
“Don’t say y’all,” Keisha says. “It makes you sound like a hick.”
“We’re from the South,” Nathan argues, “even if you forget. Yankee prep school snob.”
“Shut up.”
“What do you want to play?” I ask, to keep the peace.
“How about Spin the Bottle?” Gregory suggests.
Nathan shoves him. “I’m not gonna kiss my sister!”
“You can kiss her.” Gregory points to me. “If it lands on Keisha, kiss her instead.”
“Her name is Lin,” Keisha says.
“You just want to kiss Keisha,” Nathan taunts.
“Shut up!” The two boys wrestle each other to the floor.
“Neither of us is kissing either of you.” Keisha makes a gesture like she’s swatting them away.
“Hey, that’s it,” Nathan says. “We’ll play charades.”
Keisha clears the plates and puts them in the dishwasher. “We’all don’t want to be with you’all.”
“Come on,” Nathan begs. “I’ll let you play my SimCity later. Greg and I are boring each other stiff.”
“For how long?” Keisha offers.
“Half an hour.”
“An hour.”
“All right.”
We follow them through a hall. Every wall is filled with artwork, paintings that don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen. In the living room, a large sculpture hangs in front of the window. It is made of all kinds of materials.
“Where’d that mobile come from?” Keisha says. “It looks like it’s from another planet.”
“It is another planet,” Nathan explains. “It’s a sculpture of the solar system. I just finished it.”
“That doesn’t look like any solar system I’ve ever seen,” Gregory says.
“It’s an abstract representation.”
“What’s it made out of?” I ask.
“That pear shape is made of foil and toilet paper rolls. That’s supposed to be Mars. Saturn is made of an orange stuck with cloves. Earth is trash. The bottle caps represent shooting stars. The fabric scraps are UFOs and stuff like that. The Super Glue is supposed to be invisible, but it’s made a nasty sheen on the twigs.”
“There’s twelve extra planets there,” Keisha says.
“Thanks. I think it’s magnificent, too.”
“Enough with the art appreciation,” Greg says. “Let’s play.”
“We need ground rules,” Nathan says.
“Girls against boys,” Keisha says. “Who’s first?”
“Let’s do just TV shows and movies,” Gregory says. “I don’t like doing people or places because someone always chooses a person or place I don’t know.”
“That makes sense,” Keisha says. “Not.”
“A place,” Gregory explains, “like Taj Mahal. Or a person, like Einstein.”
“Who doesn’t know Taj Mahal or Einstein?” Keisha argues.
“How about Spokane, Washington?” Gregory says. “Would you guess Spokane? I used to live there. People drive around with rifles and dead deer strapped to their cars.”
“Whatever,” Keisha says. “Movies and TV shows.”
The idea of performing a charade in front of these two boys makes my face hot, but I guess it’s better than kissing. Plus, I am worried that I won’t be able to guess any because I don’t watch TV or movies much. “Can we do books?”
“Girls read different books than boys,” Nathan says. “How about Web sites?”
“No way,” Keisha says. “The only one we would all know is My Space and Google.”
“Okay. I’ll go first.” Gregory holds up his fingers.
“Two words,” Nathan says.
Gregory jumps around the room like a monkey, dragging his arms on the ground.
“Ape,” Nathan says. “Planet of the Apes.”
“That’s not two words,” Keisha says.
A movie I’ve never seen pops into my head. “King Kong.”
“Yes!” Gregory says.
“You should have connected it with our last name,” Nathan says.
“It’s our turn,” Keisha says. “Lin guessed, so she goes.”
I feel my face get red. “You can go for me, Keisha?”
“No,” Nathan says. “That’s not the rules.”
“I’ve never played before,” I fib; I have played with Sally and Dad.
“You did pretty well guessing,” Greg argues.
“I’ll go for her,” Keisha says. “It’s girls against boys, so we can decide who goes. Until she gets the hang of it.” Keisha holds up two fingers, then she curls her body up like someone who’s scared.
“Hide,” Nathan says.
“Ball,” Gregory says.
She shakes her head.
“Duck?” Nathan asks.
She makes the “sounds like” signal.
Again, the answer pops into my mind. “Tuck Everlasting.”
“Yes!” Keisha jumps up. “Two for us!”
The boys stare at me. “How did you get that?”
“I read that book.”
“We said no books,” Nathan argues.
“It’s a movie, too,” Keisha says.
“I never heard of it,” Gregory adds.
“The author lives in Providence,” I say.
“Did you figure these out in advance?” Gregory accuses.
“Duh!” Keisha says. “Nathan came up with the game two seconds ago. Nathan went first. Lin’s just good at it. She’s practically a genius, anyway.”
“Right,” Nathan says. “And me and Gregory are Alfred Einstein.”
“Albert,” Keisha corrects.
“Okay. I’ve got one!” Gregory says. “Can I go?”
“Whatever,” Keisha says.
Gregory holds up four fingers.
“Four words!”
He starts scrubbing the floor.
“Wash. Scrub. Maid,” Keisha says.
He scrubs more and more wildly. We are laughing so much, it’s hard for anyone to speak.
“Lunatic,” Nathan says. “Lunatic asylum. Crazy maid.”
Gregory points to his hand. Sponge, I think. SpongeBob SquarePants. Sally used to watch it. But this time, I don’t say anything; I don’t want them to think I’m weird.
“Washcloth,” Keisha says.
“Wax! Sponge!” Nathan says. Gregory nods emphatically, then draws a square in the air.
“SpongeBob SquarePants,” Nathan shouts.
“Yes! Victory for the boys’ team.” Gregory does a dance.
“Excuse me.” Keisha is all attitude. It’s funny, because at school, she’s almost as quiet as me. “SpongeBob SquarePants? Exactly how is that four words?”
“Sponge. Bob. Square. Pants.” Gregory counts on his hand. “Four words.”
“It’s two words. SpongeBob is one word. SquarePants is another. Disqualification for the boys’ team.”
“It is not,” Nathan says. “It’s four words. Get the TV guide.”
Keisha rushes out and returns with the TV guide, a look of triumph on her face. She shows them.
“Moron!” Nathan whacks Gregory on the head.
“Hey,” Gregory defends. “My aunt gave me an I.Q. test and I scored in the top ten percentile, so who’s the moron?”
“Do you know what I.Q. stands for?” Nathan retorts. “Idiot queer.”
They begin wrestling. Keisha again does her yawn. “Idyllic quandary,” she says. “Interest-free quantity. Ivory Queen. Illustrious Quest. Ironic quack. Infinite quality.” Both boys stop and look up at her with interest.
“I’ll bet your I.Q. is way up there, Keisha,” Gregory says. “Why don’t you come over to my house and my aunt can give you the test.”
“Talk to the hand.”
“What is the sound of one hand clapping?” Nathan holds up a hand, then he flicks his fingers down to make a snapping noise. “The world according to Bart Simpson.”
I look at the clock. I’ve been here two hours, the first after-school hours I’ve ever been away from Obaachan. A wave of homesickness hits me. Out the window, the sky is gray and dusky. By contrast, Nathan’s solar system looks like a colorful patchwork quilt. “It’s going to fall.” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them.
They all follow my eyes to Nathan’s art, which is hanging perfectly still and in one piece.
“Huh?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly.
“What should we do now?” Gregory says.
But no one answers, because a moment later, there’s a cracking sound; the twig holding the planets snaps, and the pieces of Nathan’s mobile crash to the floor.
“Hell.” Nathan rushes over and collects the pieces.
“How did you know that was going to fall?” Gregory turns to me.
I shrug.
“Freaky.”
“I’d better go,” I say. “My grandmother’s waiting for me.”
I walk home feeling like, for an afternoon, I got to masquerade as Sally, like in a story we read in class, where two friends switch places in each other’s life.
As I pass Matt’s house, the door opens and he appears like magic. “Hi, Lin.” He picks a newspaper up off the lawn.
“Hi, Matt,” I finally manage.
“You remember me, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m surprised.”
“We were in kindergarten together.”
“Right. You always won at being the stillest.”
“And catechism with Sister April.”
“Did you know that Sister April quit being a nun?”
“No.”
“She got married and now she works as a nurse. She’s friends with my mom.” He points to my uniform. “You’re at ‘the hill’ now with the smart kids.”
“Yeah. I changed schools.”
“You’re the one person I’ve seen who looks good in that uniform.”
I feel myself blush. “Thanks.”
“I mean brown. That’s gotta be the worst color to have to wear every day.”
“Yeah. Well, I . . . It’s getting dark. I’d better . . .”
“You’d better get home before it’s dark.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll see you around.”
The whole walk home, I go over the brief exchange. Hi, Lin. That means that all the times I’ve passed his house, he’s known who I was. He’s remembered me. You’re the one person I’ve seen who looks good in that uniform. That was a compliment. I’ll see you around. Does that mean we’ll be friends?
I can’t wait to tell Obaachan all of my news. Even the falling mobile. Why do I know things sometimes before they happen? “Obaachan.” I rush in the front door. “I’m back.”
“In here,” Mom calls from Obaachan’s room. The windows are open. Mom is changing the sheets. “You’re late. I was worried.”
“I stopped at Keisha’s. Didn’t you get my message?”
“Your message said you’d be home at five. It’s now five-thirty. And where’s your sister? She should’ve been home two hours ago and she never called. I need to talk to her right away. Is this what goes on when I’m at work, expecting you to behave responsibly?”
“Where’s Obaachan?”
“At the hospital. Just a few days of tests. Don’t worry.” She sighs and sits on the bed. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little tense. It’s not your fault. It’s about Sally.”
“What kind of tests?”
Mom forces a smile. “On her blood. Don’t worry. This is an illness she’s carried a long time. She’ll be home soon. What a day; everything going wrong at once, and I can’t reach your dad to save my life.”
“What about Sally?”
“Mrs. Caros called. She was driving past the school and saw Sally with a gang of kids. Sally was smoking. Did you know this? Lin, did you know she smokes?”
I don’t answer because I don’t care right now whether Sally smokes. Obaachan is in the hospital and Mom is acting like she went to get her hair done. “When will Obaachan be back? How long will she be in the hospital?”
Maybe if I’d have come home right after school, she would still be here.