And then he’s gone.
I remember when I was younger, when Birdie was still a baby, I’d asked Mama if she had any brothers or sisters. “Like I have Birdie,” I said to her. “Don’t you have a Birdie?”
She looked at me with sad eyes and then picked me up and said, “Sure. I have Birdies.” I felt safe in her tight, tight hug. “It’s just . . . right now those Birdies of mine, well, they have an opinion about everything and we don’t get along real well. They’ve got loud mouths.”
“Sometimes I don’t like it when Birdie cries at night and wakes me up. He’s got a loud mouth too.” She hugged me tighter.
I never asked about her siblings again, but ever since living with Patrick, I wonder: Can you be loud without saying anything at all?
**Observation #782: Honey Bunny Bun Magic
Now I know how easily Honey Bunny Buns can disappear.
Like a magic trick,
6 Honey Bunny Buns
become 1.
Except these don’t disappear into a silk top hat.
& Uncle Carl isn’t here to pull more from his sleeve.
& we aren’t there to assist him in his greatest feat yet:
A marriage proposal that ends with yes.
CHAPTER 10 WHEN TO USE THE MICROBLASTER
The next morning, I sleep in since I’m not going to school and I’m not sure Birdie will be ready to talk. I lie there for a long time wondering if Uncle Carl will be able to buy the balloon tickets on his own. He’s not exactly good at using the Internet and he avoids talking on the phone at all costs because he says when you’re talking into a microphone, who knows who—or what—could be listening.
On my way downstairs, I see Birdie’s door is wide-open. The blanket on his bed is pulled straight and perfectly smooth. The pillow doesn’t even look like it’s been slept on.
Downstairs, Duke lies on the couch by the front door. He’ll probably be there all morning waiting for Patrick to come back.
The leftover spaghetti is gone from the fridge. I grab an apple and that’s when I hear a strange sound coming from the backyard.
Birdie’s on the patio with a giant orange water gun that’s almost as big as he is. He’s aiming toward empty soda cans on a rusty bench at the far end of the yard. I’m surprised he’s wearing his puffy purple jacket.
“Hit any yet?” I ask.
He turns toward me. I gasp, finally seeing his face properly. He’s got a scab on his lip and a purple half-moon underneath his right eye and a puffy eyelid. “Oh, Birdie.”
“Thanks for saving some spaghetti,” he says, going to the hose for a refill. Like an outlaw, he’s stuffed another water gun in the front waist of his pants. He turns off the water, replaces the water cap, and goes back to the end of the patio and continues shooting. He still doesn’t hit anything.
“What’s the one tucked in your waist?” I ask.
“That’s my MicroBlaster. For a last-resort shot.” He shoots the water again and hits a can.
I watch him, sticking my hands into my hoodie pockets. The air is cold, flowing down from the mountain that already has some early snow. Before moving here, I used to think that California was always warm. I had no idea that it would get colder than Portland.
“Patrick says I need to defend myself.” He doesn’t stop shooting. “He wants to teach me how to fight.”
“I’m not sure water guns is what he had in mind.”
“I know, but this is as far as I go. I’m not punching Teddy Garner no matter what Patrick says.”
“Is that who punched you? Teddy Garner?”
“He didn’t punch me. He elbowed me. After pushing me to the ground.”
“Was it because of something you were wearing?”
“No. I was wearing the stupid clothes Patrick bought.”
He aims and hits the bench.
“Did you try to kiss him?” The question is out before I realize what I’ve said.
Birdie is out of water again but he silently pulls the trigger over and over with nothing coming out. Finally he goes to the hose for another refill.
“At lunchtime, I was working on Uncle Carl’s bow tie and suspenders design for the proposal. I had my notebook and the Alexander McQueen book out and Teddy saw me. He followed me into the bathroom and tried to steal my book. I had to hit him to keep him away.” He looks over at me, his purple eye squinting a little. “Then he knocked me to the ground, and elbowed me in the face. He put my book in the toilet. I kicked him to try and make him stop, and pulled his hair, but then someone else came into the bathroom and Teddy ran out. I pulled the book out of the toilet, but it’s ruined, Jack.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll wash it off and dry it out. Teddy is a jerk. I knew he was lying.”
He focuses on refilling the gun without spilling.
“I can’t believe Janet’s mom hangs around with Teddy’s dad,” I say.
“Yeah well, Teddy said that him and his dad couldn’t stop laughing at the gay outfit I was wearing at the mall. They laughed the whole way home.”
“Janet’s right. That kid is a grade A idiot.”
“He hasn’t bothered me since last school year but since seeing him at the mall, he’s worse than ever. Anyway, I have to keep practicing. I want to show Patrick that I can shoot when he gets back from work.”
“Where did those guns come from anyway?”
“I found them in a box by the side of the house.”
“Patrick seems really upset. You probably shouldn’t be wearing your purple jacket.”
He stops shooting and sighs heavily. Like an
