فصل 05

CHAPTER 5

Silver Dollars and Wooden Nickels

The back door swings open and my brother, Travis, is there, smelling like grease. Looking like he rolled in it. And I instantly feel better.

How’s my favorite little sister?

I’m your only little sister.

Doesn’t matter. You’d still be my favorite. He smiles. So, your favorite big brother had a silver dollar day today!

I think of Grandpa and Dad, who always asked us if we were having a silver dollar day or a wooden nickel one.

Travis is doing that thing where he wiggles his fingers in the air and asks his daily question, What are these? He looks older—more like my dad, who’s been deployed since just before Thanksgiving last year. It was hard to feel thankful after he’d gone. Especially since Grandpa had died three months before that.

The hands of a genius? I say.

Correcto-mundo!

Do you realize you come home every day and ask me to compliment you?

Not really, he says, opening the fridge. Just asking you to state the facts.

You are unbelievable.

Exactly! he says, pointing at me. Guess what? I finished restoring an old Coke machine today. Thing is like seventy years old. He pops open a soda. Those things are worth a bundle fixed up. Then he holds up the can. Look at this. Disappointing compared to those old green bottles.

Travis must be happy. The happier he is, the more he goes on about things.

And, he says, I picked up an old gumball machine. The kind that takes pennies. I’ll sell it for ten times what I paid for it. His voice drops and he takes a sip. I will have to throw some money and elbow grease at it first, though.

He comes over like he’s going to mess up my hair, but I block his dirty hands. No way! I laugh. Don’t touch me!

Aw, c’mon, Al. I’ve had a great day. And guess what? I almost have enough to buy those rolling tool cabinets. And someday my big neon sign. He sweeps his hand through the air like he’s showing me a row of mountains. Nickerson Restoration. My own place. My name—our name—is going to be in lights someday, Al. But then his voice deflates. I just have to get out of high school. We’re like oil and water, school and me. I wish Mom would let me quit.

She would kill you.

Yeah. So would Dad. And being dead won’t be good for my business. He smiles. Won’t be long, though. I’m learning a ton at the garage. The boss is letting me do all kinds of different stuff.

I smile.

I’m going to buy a car soon, too. A classic. And a V-6 at least.

And then he’s off and I can still smell the grease after he’s gone.

I’m glad he had a silver dollar day.

• • •

When my mom finally gets home, I’ve already microwaved my dinner and I’m watching TV while I sketch pictures of a pet llama named Butch Cassidy. With a name like that, I give him a cowboy hat, a bandana, and a holster. But in the holster he carries an ear of corn.

When my mom comes in from work, she turns off the TV and I can feel it coming.

So, she begins. When are we going to really talk about today?

On my ninety-fifth birthday.

Funny one. She shifts her weight. I’m trying to be patient, honey. I really am. But today was a party. How could you get into trouble at a party?

I don’t have to do anything. They all hate me, I blurt out.

I doubt that. But can’t you see why they’d be tired of your behavior? These shocking things you do and say to get laughs?

She doesn’t get it. Being funny when you don’t mean to be is terrible. Having to laugh at yourself along with everyone else is humiliating.

Oh, Ally . . . you’re too smart for this. School is too important to joke about. I don’t want you working long hours on your feet for a bunch of tips like me. I want more for you. And you’re so smart. Good at math. A gifted artist. Don’t you think it’s time to stop clowning around?

I’m not that smart. You say that, but I’m not.

Now, we know that isn’t true. You could stand to work a little harder, though.

I’m so tired of this conversation. We’ve had it a hundred times, even though my third-grade teacher told her that I might just be slow, that my mom shouldn’t expect too much of me. My mom’s eyes got all wide and shiny when she heard that, and I felt sad and embarrassed for her having to be my mom.

But my mother’s never bought what that teacher said. I sometimes wish she would, but most times I’m grateful that she hasn’t.

She bends over to look me dead in the eyes. I know that moving as much as we have has been hard for you. And I know I work all the time and can’t keep tabs on your schoolwork. It has made it hard for you to keep up with some subjects, and I understand that. I really do. But you’re going to have to make more effort, Ally. Things worth having are worth working for.

I’ll do better, I tell her. I used to say this and mean it. Now it feels like I’m just making up one of my stories.

Her smile is sad. Okay, then. She kisses the top of my head.

Can I turn the TV back on now?

She unties her apron as she stares. Did you take your bath yet?

No. I sigh. The tiredness in her voice says there’s no use arguing. I trudge toward the hallway.

By the way, I don’t want to hear you say that people hate you, she calls out. How could anyone on earth possibly hate you?

I wish she could understand my world. But it would be like trying to explain to a whale what it’s like to live in the forest.