Devan
"What's your problem?" Shane asks from the back seat of the bus. He's sprawled across it, leaving Brad and me standing.
I shrug. I can't explain it. It's like I'm a kaleidoscope turned an inch too far and suddenly the whole picture is changed. But I don't tell him that. He'd have a field day with that one.
"Is it the science fair?" Brad says, with that stupid smirk.
"Don't tell me you're still sore about having to set up on your own." Shane swings his third place medal in a circle so the ribbon wraps around his fingers. Then he swings it the other way.
Brad opens his mouth like he's about to set the record straight. I give him a look. Whatever it said, it shut him up fast.
"We won!" Shane brags, like he had anything to do with it. "Man, my mom's gonna freak when she sees this."
The phone is ringing as I unlock the front door. It's Mom. Ever since she started working, she calls every day at 3:45 to ask me the silly questions she asked when she was home all the time.
So how was your day?
Fine.
How was school?
Fine.
What did you do?
Nothing.
I know she'll ask about the science fair today. I don't feel much like talking about it. But I know better than to let the machine pick up. Last time I didn't answer, she called 9-1-1. Two minutes later I got four firemen, two paramedics, and a canine unit at my door, all because I had to take a dump.
I pick it up. "Hello?"
"Hi sweetie, how was your day?"
"Fine."
"What did you do? "
"Nothing."
"How did the science fair go?"
"Good."
"That's nice, dear. Is Em home?" she asks, just as Em's bus pulls away. I don't know how Mom does that. It's like ESP or something. Em opens the front door and sticks her tongue out at me right on cue. Then she runs downstairs to see her rabbit, Lulu.
"Yeah, The Pain is here," I say.
"There are some—"
"Sandwiches in the fridge."
"And can you put the lasagna in at three—"
"Three-fifty for thirty minutes at 5:30. Yeah, Mom. See you later."
"Love you."
"Me too."
I open the fridge and grab two pops and the plate of sandwiches. Mom shrink-wraps everything. The whole second shelf is always full of half empty dishes mummified in plastic wrap. Like we'll ever eat any of it. Well, you might get hungry when I'm not there, she says. As if Em will starve to death just 'cause her mother works at Home Depot three nights a week. Em's the fattest kid in grade three.
"Em, your sandwich," I call. That kid would spend forever down there with that dumb rabbit.
I sit at the table and bite into my sandwich, but I can't eat. I feel like I've already swallowed a ball of dough. It's just rolling around in my gut. I dunno why the ant farm bothers me so much. After Katie shot me down, I wanted them to lose, more than anything. But not this way.
What would have happened if I had been with Shane this morning? I don't have to think about that too long to know I would have been holding Egghead's wrists, or wrapping the tape, or taking a shot. It makes me sick to think it.
Katie looked so sad during the fair. I'd never seen her like that. Egghead managed, but I knew the truth. I'd seen it in his eyes when he was lying on the ground.
He hurt. A lot. And it wasn't just from getting his butt kicked.
I take the medal out of my pocket and look at my bronze reflection. I'd won lots of medals for sports but
never for science. I should be proud. But I'm not. I know we don't deserve third. Egghead and Katie's project should have won first. It was the best one, before it got trashed. That would have bumped us down to fourth. And fourth placers don't get medals.
"What's that?" Em asks, sliding into her chair. Salt lines mark her cheeks where tears dried. Looks like she didn't have such a great day either.
"Just an award," I say, getting up to toss it, and my sandwich, in the trash. But I stop. "Here, Em." I slip the red and white ribbon over her head. "For being the best rabbit owner. Congratulations."
Em smiles so big, she looks like she might burst. She can't take her eyes off the medal. She can hardly chew with that big, goofy grin on her face. Even I feel a bit better.
Funny how something little can make such a big difference.