For the next two weeks, we packed nonstop. Our closets were emptied, our cabinets bare. What was left was placed into suitcases to take on our long road trip to Nevada. I even helped this time, diligently wrapping things in brown paper and laying them out in boxes, taping the boxes shut and labeling them in magic marker:
KITCHEN
ARTY’S ROOM
VEGA’S BATHROOM: WARNING!
THIS BOX IS FULL OF SCARY GIRL STUFF!
A For Sale sign appeared in our front yard, and some guy in a pickup truck came and pulled Cassi’s swing set out of our backyard and hauled it away. Comet stood at the front door and watched and I could swear I saw a doggy tear in his eye. A moving van pulled up to our curb and we spent a whole day filling it with furniture and boxes—everything that belonged to the Chambers family, stuffed into the sweltering inner corners of the giant metal rectangle of cargo space. I thought it was weird how everything in the lives of five people could be put into one van. How our lives seemed so much bigger before we had to move them away to somewhere else.
Well, not all our things were there.
Huey was still torn to smithereens on the hilltop. And as far as I was concerned, he was going to stay there forever. Or at least until the next person found him and harvested his scrap for something useful.
I tried not to think about Huey, because thinking about Huey made me think about Cash, which made me think about all kinds of terrible stuff, not the least of which was what might have happened to him over the two weeks since I’d visited him.
The van driver had arrived an hour before, and Mom was frantically stuffing “one last thing” in after another “one last thing.” It was amazing how many “one last things” Mom had. Vega and the Bacteria huddled together on the porch, and Cassi locked herself in the bathroom, where I imagined her kissing the mirror good-bye.
I climbed up onto the eaves outside my window and looked out over the neighborhood for the last time. It was still amazing to me that the hill beyond the woods wasn’t visible from old CICM-HQ, even when I was looking for it. I knew it was there, and a part of me wanted to see it, to say good-bye to it, but every time I thought about climbing down and going back there, Cash’s voice flooded my head again.
“Hey,” I heard from below, and there were Tripp and Priya, standing in my yard. Tripp awkwardly held a gift bag in one hand. Priya had a book tucked under her arm. I hadn’t seen either one of them for a couple of days, mostly because I’d been hiding from them. Every time I thought of my two best friends, I was embarrassed by all the times I made them care about space for me—“You’re always hanging around where you’re not wanted, kid”—and of taking them up to the hill and making them act like Huey wasn’t stupid. Plus, I was afraid if I tried to say good-bye, I might do something stupid like cry. Again. Something about moving turns a guy into a real fountain of joy, I tell you.
“Hey,” I said.
“Can we come up?”
“Sure.”
I waited a few minutes and then there they were, heads poking through the window at me. I scooted over to make room, and one by one they climbed out.
“Today’s the day, huh?” Tripp said. I nodded. He paused. “It’s gonna be weird going to school without you in the fall.”
I nodded again. The fountain was threatening to spring to life once more.
Priya elbowed Tripp, and I saw a meaningful look pass between the two of them. And by “meaningful,” I mean the kind of warning look Priya gives when she means to say shut your flapping gum trap before I sock you one, dummy. I’d seen that look more times than I could count.
She leaned forward. “My mom and your mom are already talking about spring break. I think we’re going to come see you. My mom is going to talk to Tripp’s mom about taking him with us.”
Spring break was a long time away. Months away. Priya would probably have different bracelets by then. Or maybe even no bracelets at all. Tripp would probably … still be Tripp. Guys like Tripp never changed much.
“Cool,” I managed.
Tripp shifted and handed the gift bag to me. “Here,” he said. I looked at the tag.
To: Arty
From: Trevor
Aha! Trevor was his real name! I … never would have guessed it, actually. Tripp totally didn’t seem like a Trevor to me. Just a Tripp.
I pulled out the tissue paper. Inside the bag were Chase’s old Mickey Mouse binoculars, which I’d given back to him the day Mom and I packed my room. The sight of them made my breath nearly catch in my throat. “I heard about what happened with Huey,” Tripp said. “Chase said you could keep these instead. Well, he said it after I threw sock balls at his face for half an hour, anyway.” Priya elbowed him and they shot looks at each other again. “Anyway, I thought maybe you could start over once you got out there.”
“Thanks,” I said, and decided not to tell him that I had no intention of starting over at all.
He shifted uncomfortably. “Also, I have something to tell you guys.” Priya and I exchanged glances. She shrugged. “When Chase said I was at practice, he was telling the truth. I …” He trailed off, licked his lips, took a deep breath, let it out in a gust. “I’ve been taking ballet lessons.”
“Ballet lessons?” Priya and I said at the same time. In a million years I would never have guessed ballet lessons. Drum lessons, chess lessons, yo-yo lessons, rodeo clown lessons maybe, but ballet lessons?
He blushed. “It’s just … my mom thought it might help my clumsiness. A lot of football players take ballet, you know, so it’s not as girly as it sounds. I actually really like it.”
Priya and I nodded our heads appreciatively, but Priya mouthed the words “ballet lessons” to me and I shrugged.
“And, hey, it’s working!” Tripp said. “That weekend that you couldn’t find me? When you had to stay at Cash’s house? I got third place at a competition in Columbia that day. They said my relevé was really sophisticated.”
“Wow, good job, Tripp, that’s great,” Priya said.
“Yeah, man, that’s really cool,” I added.
He shrugged. “Anyway, I just thought you guys should know. I didn’t like keeping secrets from you. Maybe sometime you can come see me at a recital or something. I think I might be a dancer when I grow up.”
“Of course,” I said. “Definitely.”
“I almost forgot.” Priya leaned forward and handed me the book. “I thought this might come in handy on your trip,” she said. It was a road atlas. She reached across Tripp and flipped the pages until they were open to Missouri. She pointed to a red star that had been hand-inked right above the Missouri River near Kansas City. “I marked this so you wouldn’t ever forget where we are.”
As if I ever could.
“Thanks,” I managed again, while on the inside the fountain raged and burst around so hard I felt I was floating.
We sat there for a few more minutes, Tripp asking all kinds of questions about my new house, which I’d only seen in pictures online. And then when I’d shrugged and grunted my way through those, he started in on more general questions: “Does your house have a Jacuzzi in the bathroom? Is it close to the Vegas Strip? Do they have yards in Vegas, or is it just desert sand? Do you have a slot machine in your bedroom? Do you have to wear a suit to go into a casino, like they do in the movies? Do you know how to play blackjack? How much money do you think you could win in one of those casinos, anyway? Do you think you’ll end up being a magician, and, if so, would you have tigers? White one or regular ones? Or would you go for something totally different, like bears? Or penguins? Are there any magicians with penguins? That would be really cool, being a magician with penguins, don’t you think?”
It was almost torture, because it was totally like Tripp to be asking questions like those. And it was almost torture, because sometimes Tripp’s questions basically were torture. But that was what I was going to miss about him.
Priya must have been feeling kind of tortured, too, because after a while, she said, “Well, we should probably go so you can get ready to leave.”
I was never going to be ready to leave, but I nodded anyway, and said, “Yeah,” and next thing I knew they were scooting back in through the window. Tripp went in first—gracefully!—and Priya and I both craned for the window at the same time, our faces ending up just inches apart.
We stopped, grinned at each other, and then quick as lightning, she reached over and planted a kiss right on my cheek.
“See you in April, Arty,” she said, and before I could even get feeling back into my stunned, buzzy face, she climbed through the window and was gone.
Whoa.
… Whoa.
I mean—did you—whoa—did you see that?
I stayed on the eaves for a long time, my fingers pressed to my cheek, the atlas and binoculars tucked in my lap, my two best friends chatting as they walked down the sidewalk just out of my sight. I scooted to the very edge of the eaves and peered around the corner to see if I could still see them.
And that was when I saw Sarah’s car pulling into Cash’s driveway.