15
DIFFERENCE
—how much one number differs from another
Somehow I made it back to Moo’s. I was so mad at Dad that I’m not even sure how I got there. I mean, he hadn’t seen me in a week and he never even checked to see if I’d gotten here—it was only because I IM’ed him that he knew. And I told him how badly we needed money, and he forgot! Like I was worthless. Then when I sent him a message telling him what I was doing, making it sound even better than it was, he still blew me off. It still wasn’t good enough. All he cared about was Poppy’s engineering project that didn’t even exist! And Poppy wouldn’t work on the real project, making boxes, even though he knew how critical his role was in getting Misha adopted. He just sat there like a lump!
When I swung the front door open, Moo was struggling toward me with a huge garbage bag almost as big as she was.
“Moo! What are you doing?”
She put it down, panting, her face red. “It’s Thursday.”
“What?”
“Trash day tomorrow.”
I looked at Poppy, who had the yellow yardstick across his lap. “Moo, you shouldn’t be the one doing this.” I was seething, my voice loud so it could penetrate Poppy’s stupor.
He didn’t even flinch. It was as easy to get through to Poppy as it was to Dad.
I gritted my teeth. “I’ll handle it.”
“Thank you so much, Mike. I need to finish some paperwork.” She told me where the trash can was and headed to the kitchen.
I glared at Poppy and hissed, “You should be doing this and you know it!”
When I joined Moo in the kitchen—after I’d taken care of the trash and given Poppy another dirty look about it—she was squinting at some forms on the table, her nose about two inches from the paper.
“What are you reading?”
“I made a bargain with Gladys. I told her I’d fill out these direct deposit forms for our Social Security checks if she’d sing for you on YouTube.”
I sat down heavily. “Direct deposit is a good idea, Moo. You’ll be happy you did it.”
She looked up at me ruefully. “All I said was I’d fill them out. I never said I’d hand them in.”
“Moo!”
“Oh, all right, I suppose it’s safe. But”—she tapped her pen on the form several times—“who can even read these words? They’ve made them so tiny.”
“Here,” I said, gently pulling the pen out of her hand and pulling the forms toward me. “I’ll do it.”
“I’ve started you off with my name and Poppy’s,” she said proudly.
First, I noticed how shaky and oversized her handwriting was. Second, I saw their real names. Beulah Wealthea O’Brien and Heinrich Gunther O’Brien. Whoa, no wonder they went with Moo and Poppy. Third, I realized that Moo had written her name on the line for “Name of Financial Institution” and Poppy’s on the “Account Number” line. I asked her for her checkbook to get her account number and went to work.
“All you’ll need to do is sign the form when I’m done. And get”—I jerked my thumb toward the living room—“to sign it, and you’ll be all set.”
“Thank you, dear!”
I barely got started filling in the blanks when the tapping started. I ignored it at first, but it got louder. I looked at Moo, cooking scrapple at the stove, but realized the noise was coming from behind me. And it was getting more irritating every second. “What is that?”
“What, dear?”
“That tapping sound!”
Her shoulders drooped. “I’m late with supper. I think Poppy’s getting impatient.”
I felt my grip tighten on the pen and the words on the form grow hazy as my eyes narrowed. The tapping continued.
“Oh! I need to grab a couple of tomatoes from the garden. Past says they have lycopene and would be good for Poppy, so I’m going to try mixing them in with his scrapple.”
As soon as she went out the back door, I stood up to yell at Poppy through the pass-through. I was just in time to see him push the hands of the Felix clock with the yardstick. The clock now read nine fifteen. So that’s how the clock kept changing! Poppy started tapping on Felix, loudly, demanding his dinner. All I could think was, How dare he?
That’s when I lost it.
I marched into the living room, grabbed the yardstick out of Poppy’s hand, and broke it in two. His eyes grew wide and they locked on mine for a moment before his lips stuck out in a defiant pout and he stared back at Felix. I looked at the two pieces of yardstick, surprised I’d even done that, and dropped them. When I looked at Poppy, I saw that his face was red and his nostrils were flared, but one of his hair horns had flopped over. He was still staring up at the Felix clock.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s time, all right. It’s time for you to move your butt!”
He was breathing heavily, but other than his chest rising and falling, he didn’t budge. He wouldn’t even look at me.
“And you know what else?” I added. “I’m going out to the workshop. Your workshop. And I’m going to use your tools to make all those boxes that you’re supposed to be out there making!”
His grunt came out sounding more like a yelp, but that didn’t stop me. I grabbed the key from the row of hooks by the door and stormed out to the workshop.