CHAPTER TWELVE

There are only two ways to live your life.

One is as though nothing is a miracle.

The other is as though everything is a miracle.

Albert Einstein

What a day, eh, Milhouse? The sun is out, birds are singing, bees are trying to have sex with them—as is my understanding …”

– Bart Simpson

Lee was still high when he opened his eyes the next morning. He woke before his alarm and got out of bed just because he felt like it. That in itself was miracle enough. More than once his mother had been forced to pour cold water on his forehead or pop ice cubes down his pajamas to stir him from his catatonic sleep states.

This morning it wasn’t necessary. Lee looked out his window and had to touch his eyes to make certain he wasn’t actually wearing those prescription glasses he’d imagined yesterday. It was true. Everything seemed hyper-focused and double-dipped in Technicolor. He wondered if this is what it felt like to look through the eyes of a winner.

Lee grabbed a shirt from his closet and did up the buttons. Buttons, marveled Lee; what a simple, yet ingenious invention. He thought about the history of mankind, and wondered how many centuries they’d been forced to struggle along without buttons before some inspired genius came up with the idea. Eureka! And how many more centuries till some brilliant dude dreamed up “denim,” he thought, pulling on his ragged and superbly comfortable jeans. Mr. Blue-Jean, whoever you are, I salute you! And then he started to do up his zipper, and, well, that whole concept just about blew his mind.

In the bathroom, he stopped to notice how the shade of toothpaste on his toothbrush matched the color of his shirt exactly. It nearly made him want to skip brushing his teeth and just carry around the toothbrush all day. Look! he’d say to people on the street, My shirt is a perfect toothpaste blue. Did you ever wonder who was exceptional enough to invent toothpaste? Did you ever wonder why the stuff doesn’t taste like Tub ’n’ Tile Cleaner? What other cleanser in the world tastes that good?

Jeez-Louise, thought Lee, I’d better be careful not to run too Jeez-many marathons; I’m starting to sound like some love-struck dope in a gag-me-with-two-fingers chick flick. He didn’t care, though. Not even about the blister on his ankle that was starting to bleed again. Or about the fact that he had to shuffle down the stairs on his bum because his calves were aching so badly. Minor details.

Nothing could bring him down today. Not the fact that there were only two Cheerios left in the bottom of the cereal box. Not the big black mess he had to clean up after scraping his burnt toast (Gertrude considered herself a “Mrs. Fix It,” but Lee could have told her to stay away from that malfunctioning toaster). Not even the fact that he had math today, and Mr. Wood would be handing their exams back. Shoot, that exam, thought Lee. Nope, nope, nope, he told himself a second later, not even a failing math mark could bring him down today.

“What did you burn?” asked Gertrude, fanning the air with her morning paper as she came into the kitchen.

“Hate to tell you, but the toaster worked better before you fixed it, Mom,” said Lee. Then he pulled out a kitchen chair and motioned her to sit down. “Your breakfast is served, Madame.” Lee plunked the plate of murdered toast in front of her.

“Are the planets spinning out of orbit or something?” said Gertrude. “Seems to me this is the second day in a row you’ve actually been up before me.” She picked up a piece of toast and stared at it before taking a bite from the least burnt corner. As she chewed, she took an even closer look at Lee. “C’m’ere,” she said. “You look different today.”

“It’s the shirt,” said Lee. “Turns out toothpaste blue’s my color.”

“Huh?”

Lee thought this might be a good time to ask his mother about lifting his grounding so that he could go to Slang’s play-off soccer game like he’d promised to. But somehow he felt that it wasn’t necessary. On days like this, things had a way of falling into place naturally. He felt it in his bones.

Whoa! thought Lee, when his mother echoed his thoughts half a second later. “So, you say you promised this Slang character you’d go to his game tonight?”

“Before I knew I was grounded,” said Lee.

“Well,” said Gertrude (maybe it was his gesture of making her toast that had buttered her up), “I’ve always believed in honoring your promises.” He looked at her. “And I suppose I’m grateful that he helped you home last night.”

Lee smiled.

“But don’t think I’m going soft, young man,” she said. “Pull another stunt like that and you’re grounded for life.” Lee hugged his mother, who pretended not to like it. Lee loved her when she put on an act.

On his way to school, Lee knocked on Agnes’s front door. He heard her shuffling to the door in her big crazy-cat slippers before he actually saw her. “Just wanted to say, ‘Have a good day,’” he said, when she opened the door. “And hey, Aggie—”

“Aggie?!”

“—how about making some of your delicious banana bread soon? I’ve been dreaming about it lately!” Of course, he’d pay for this later when she put a piece of banana brick in front of him and expected him to eat it, but right now it seemed worth the look of surprised pleasure on her face. It took so little to cheer Agnes. He wondered why he didn’t make a point of doing it more often. Note to self …

After that, he stopped at Rhonda’s.

“Beanpole!” said Mr. Ronaldson at the front door. Oh no, thought Lee. “Good to see you, kid,” he said, wrestling Lee to the ground, then popping him up so fast Lee felt like a yo-yo.

Rhonda rolled her eyes and pushed her dad back to the kitchen, but not before Lee had a chance to see the words written on his apron: WORLD’S NUMBER ONE MOM.

“What do you want?” said Rhonda suspiciously, when she returned. “Got some more dirty work you need me to do? It’s gonna cost you more than a Mars Bar this time.”

Lee laughed. “Okay,” he said, palms raised in the air, “I just came to see if you wanted to walk to school together, but …” he started down her front steps, “hey, if you’re not in the mood, that’s cool.”

He got halfway across her yard before Rhonda believed her ears. She jumped into her high-tops, grabbed her backpack, and ran to catch up. “Wait up, ya idiot!” she called.That was about as useless as saying, “Wait up,” to a helium balloon without a string. Lee had his own momentum today, and Rhonda could see that she’d just have to keep up. “What’s your hurry, pea-brain?” Lee slowed down so she could catch up (another miracle!), then playfully bum-checked her onto the boulevard. “Hey! You combed your hair, for a change,” he said. “Looks good.”

Rhonda narrowed her eyes. “I had my annual bath,” she said, mussing her hair with her fingers until it looked like a rat’s nest again. “What’s up with you, anyway?” she said. “You’re acting weird.”

“Me? Weird?”

“Yeah, and I don’t like it. I prefer you when you’re a jerk.”

Good old Rhonda, thought Lee, taking a swig from his water bottle. He handed it to her. “Here, take a huge mouthful and don’t swallow.”

“What?!”

“We’ll see who can hold it in the longest. Come on.”

“Me? Take a swig from something that just touched your lips? You got some kind of brain-eating virus, or what?”

“Just wipe it off, Turkey Gizzard. I’ll bet you won’t last more than twenty seconds.”

Rhonda grabbed the bottle and wiped it a couple of hundred times on her T-shirt. Even then, she refused to let the bottle touch her lips. She put her head back and poured in a big mouthful. Lee took the bottle back and took his own huge swig. He already knew from experience that it doesn’t take long to feel like a bozo-brain when your mouth is bulging with water, and what’s left then but to laugh? Rhonda was the first to explode, spraying water everywhere, and choking with laughter. Lee lost it soon after that.

Rhonda tried several more times to outlast Lee but lost every time. They were getting soaked.

“Come on,” said Rhonda. “One more time. I know I can do it.”

Lee took an extra huge mouthful and looked up just in time to see—oh no, please, no—gorgeous Charlotte Bailey crossing the street toward him. Had she ever said a word to him in her entire life? Of course not. Did she choose today, when he was holding a gallon of water in his mouth like some dork, to acknowledge him? Of course. “Hi Lee.”

Lee tried swallowing his water in one gulp—what was he going to do, hork it out in front of her?—but he took in some air as he swallowed, and the pain of it going down made his eyes water. He opened his mouth to say “Hi,” but the word came out trapped inside a huge belch.

She looked at him, stunned for a second, then shook her head and said one word: “Charming.” As gorgeous Charlotte Bailey walked off, Rhonda fell on the sidewalk clutching her gut with laughter.

On any other day, this would have been enough to ruin Lee’s day (his year). But, nope. Not today. Nope, nope, nope. I’m fine, thought Lee. Really, I’m fine. He looked down at Rhonda and yelled it out loud: “I’m fine!” which sent Rhonda into another wave of hysterics.