Antsy Does Time

“Yeah,” I tell him, without missing a beat. “It’s housebroken, too, and can paint modern art with its trunk.”

“Okay,” Howie says, getting mad, “now you’re just making stuff up.”

I could keep this going for hours, but Ira chimes in. “It’s an expression, Howie. When something’s completely obvious but everyone’s ignoring it, you say ?there’s an elephant in the room’—because, just like an elephant, it’s big and fat, and hard to ignore.”

Howie thinks about it and nods. “I get it,” he says. “Although that kind of weight gain could be glandular. Is it his mother?”

This time Ira doesn’t even throw him a life preserver.

***

That afternoon I had a second hallway encounter. It was one of those moments that gets burned into your brain like a cigarette on a leather couch. I’m convinced it left me with brain damage.

It was just before last period. I was scrambling to get my math book out of my locker before the tardy bell when I heard a familiar voice behind me saying my name for the third time in as many days.

“Antsy?”

I turned to see none other than Kjersten Umlaut behind me. Her eyes were all moist and shiny, and the first thing that struck my brain was that Kjersten was even more beautiful in tears.

“I heard about what you did for Gunnar,” she said.

I’m figuring maybe she’s gonna slap me for it, so I say, “Yeah, sorry about that. It was a dumb idea.”

“I just wanted you to know how thoughtful it was.”

“Really?”

“Really. And I wanted to thank you.”

And that’s when it happened. She kissed me. I think maybe she meant to give me a little peck on the cheek, but I had just closed my locker and was turning, so the kiss landed a bull’s-eye on the mouth.

Okay—now you’d think this would be the stuff of dreams and fireworks and time-stopping, Matrix-like special effects, right? The thing is, that only happens when you’re expecting it and have time to set the moment up. But this was sudden. It was kind of like overcranking a cold car engine. It just grinds instead of starting. And so, what should have been the kiss from heaven was instead the lip-lock from hell.

See, I had just come back from phys ed, where we were running outside in the cold, so my nose was kinda stuffy and I was doing a whole lot of mouth breathing. In other words, my mouth is open like a fish when she comes at me.

The second it happens, a million volts go shooting through my head, and it’s too much to handle, so my brain decides to take a Hawaiian vacation—I can almost hear the jet engines as it takes off from LaGuardia—and now the only thing in my head is gratitude that I got my braces off last month, followed immediately by horror, because now she’s getting nothing but retainer, and why did I pick today of all days to have salami for lunch, and would the brownie I ate afterward provide enough cover, and where’s that mint flavor coming from?

Then in a second I’m hearing bells, and I think it’s some sort of mental shell shock, until I realize it’s the tardy bell, which means I’ll get detention, but none of that matters, because there’s Dewey Lopez with his camera, preserving the moment for eternity and saying, “Thanks, guys, that one’s a keeper!” and he’s gone, maybe to look for my brain on that beach in Maui.

Kjersten finally pulls away, and I say—I swear I actually say this: “Do you want your gum back, or should I keep it?”

She’s a little red in the face, or maybe it’s green, because I think my brain-burn left me temporarily color- blind.

“Sorry,” she says, and I’m thinking it’s me who should be saying sorry, but I’m still figuring out what the hell I should do with the gum, and then she says, “Well, I just wanted to thank you. It’s just what Gunnar needs.”

“Thanks for thanking,” I say. “Thank me anytime!” And then she’s gone faster than Dewey Lopez. As for me, I went off to sit in a math class that I have absolutely no memory of.

***

My experience with girls is limited, and usually ends in pain. The one exception is Lexie Crawley. The crash site of that relationship eventually grew flowers, instead of poison ivy and fly-traps. In other words, after breaking up, Lexie and I became friends—and it’s not like the friendship I’ve got with Howie and Ira. See, Howie and Ira, they’re more like family. You can’t get rid of them, so you don’t even try, and learn to live with them. It’s okay having friends like that, because no matter what direction your life takes, you’ll always have the Howies and Iras of the world to raise your self-esteem, because they make you look good by comparison.

But Lexie was different. First of all, she’s got insight instead of sight. Being blind doesn’t necessarily make a person remarkable, but Lexie has managed to build something wonderful around what others would call a disability. Secondly, Lexie’s got more class than anyone I know, and I’m not talking snooty I’m-better-than-you kind of class. I mean real class. I admire her for who she is.

Here’s what it’s like between Lexie and me: she can tell me that I’m a much better friend than boyfriend, and I can actually take it as a compliment. That’s a big deal, because most girls use that “I like you as a friend” line as secret code for “Keep your paws away from me, you slimeball,” but not Lexie. I knew if there was anyone I could ask for advice on what Kjersten’s kiss really meant, it was her.

I went to Crawley’s restaurant straight from school that day, looking for Lexie. Although Crawley also owned most of Paris, Capisce?, the original Crawley’s is his main restaurant. He and Lexie actually live in it. Sort of. See, it’s a huge mansion, but only the first floor is restaurant. The two of them live on the second floor, with fifteen dogs: one for each of the seven deadly sins, and seven virtues, plus one Seeing Eye dog that must have identity issues, because it’s the only yellow Lab in a sea of fourteen Afghan hounds.

“What do you want?” Old Man Crawley growled when he answered the door. He always said that to me. Except when he was expecting me. Then he’d say, “You’re late!” even if I was early. It wasn’t just me he treated this way, though. The whole world was an enemy waiting to happen. According to my father, Crawley’s greatest joy came from watching him squirm. In this I could teach my dad a thing or two, because Crawley never made me squirm. I just laughed at him. It annoyed him, but I think he respected me for it.

The dogs barked and pawed me with their usual greeting. Crawley pulled Gluttony back by the collar, and sent him off. Since Gluttony was the alpha male of the pack, the other dogs followed.

“Is it that time already?” Crawley asked as I stepped in.

“You’ll never know,” I told him with a grin.

“I always know,” he said. He was, of course, referring to our monthly kidnapping—the planning of which was usually why I came over to chat with Lexie. Like I said, Crawley had us kidnap him once a month, and force him to do something exhilarating. He even paid me for it. The fact that he’s rich and we get to use his money to plan our adventure outings allows us some really unique opportunities. Last month was a dolphin encounter at the Brooklyn Aquarium, with a shark thrown in for added excitement.

“What are you planning for this month?” he asked.

“Space shuttle,” I told him. “We’re sending you to blow up a comet before it can destroy the earth. You’ll be strapped to the tip of the warhead.”

“Smart-ass.” He poked me with his cane. Although he broke his hip last year, I don’t think he needed the cane to walk anymore. I believe he kept it as a weapon.

“So tell me,” he asked, “what new things have you botched up at Paris, Capisce? lately?”

“You mean besides Thanksgiving? Sorry, but I have no other screwups to entertain you with.”

He shook his head and scowled at me, annoyed that I had no humiliating food-service moments to share. “Incredible,” he said. “You’re disappointing even when you’re not disappointing.” Then he went off into the kitchen, where he was quickly surrounded by amber waves of dog.

Lexie got home ten minutes later and was surprised, but pleased, to find me there. She let Moxie, her Seeing Eye dog, out of his halter, and he came bounding to me, expressing all the emotion that Lexie was too proper to display. She did give me a hug, though.

“I’m glad you came by,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“You have?” I instantly wondered what she was thinking, and why, and whether I should feel embarrassed, flattered, or awkward.