All the Ugly and Wonderful Things(15)

“Wavonna—Wavy is already over the big hurdles in third grade: multiplication and learning to write longhand.”

Lisa had kept back a sample of Wavy’s penmanship to show him, a little essay she’d written about the Voyager 1 and 2 launches. He looked at it long enough to read it, but didn’t say anything.

“But she’s still not participating in PE class. I was wondering if we could find a way to encourage her.”

Mr. Quinn shifted in his chair and said, “What’s PE?”

“Gym class. They call it Physical Education now. PE for short.”

“Oh.”

“The other thing that concerns me is Wavy’s speech. You don’t have to decide today, but I want you to think about having Wavy meet with the school’s speech therapist. It won’t cost anything. It’s part of the district’s services that are provided to all students and I really think—”

“I don’t need a speech therapist,” Wavy said.

Until then Lisa had heard Wavy say exactly three things: “Don’t,” “No,” and “Asshole,” which earned her a trip to the office, where the principal butted his head against her indifference to punishment.

“Oh,” Lisa said.

At a look from Wavy, Mr. Quinn stood up, his wallet chain rattling against his leg.

“That it?” he said.

“Um, thank you for coming in.”

After that, Lisa gave up. No wonder Wavy didn’t talk. Her role models were a crazy woman who wouldn’t shut up and a man who barely spoke. What could you do with a child who had that at home?





7

KELLEN

November 1977

At the bike shop in Garringer, Marilyn came around the counter with a big smile and said, “Oh my god, where did this angel come from? I didn’t know you had a little girl.”

“She’s not my little girl,” I said.

“Who is she then? Who’s little angel are you? That hair is just baby fine, isn’t it?”

Marilyn reached out to touch Wavy’s hair, so I shifted to block her.

“She needs a helmet,” I said.

Sitting there with that teacher thinking I was Liam, I realized it was plain reckless to let Wavy ride without a helmet. Never mind Liam, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I wrecked and got Wavy’s brains scrambled.

Marilyn brought out three kids helmets. A plain black one, a blue and white striped one, and a pink one.

“I bet I know which one you’d like,” Marilyn said.

Yeah, like hell Wavy wanted a pink helmet. She pointed at the black helmet, which was just a small version of a Daytona with a visor. It fit her, so that was a done deal.

While Marilyn rang up the helmet, Wavy walked down the boot aisle, running her fingertip across the toes. Her old snow boots looked cheap and worn out, so I said, “See any you like?” She nodded.

Marilyn stuck right with us, kept trying to get close to Wavy. The way Wavy looked, all sweet and blond, people were probably all the time trying to paw her. A lot of times I’d almost go to touch her hair before I remembered not to. The way I figured it, she’d let me know when it was okay.

To keep Marilyn from touching her, I had to get down on my knee to adjust the shoe sizer against Wavy’s toe.

She smiled at me, her cheeks a little pink. I could see what she was thinking.

“I’m not a shoe salesman,” I said.

That made her smile bigger, almost showed her teeth.

“So she’s not your daughter?” Marilyn said.

“No, she’s not my daughter.” What was I supposed to say? She’s my bike bitch? Not everything has a simple answer. I said, “She’s a friend of mine.”

Wavy picked a pair of boy’s square-toed boots. Good leather to last her for a while. They were a little big, but watching her walk across the store, half strutting, half stomping, I could tell she liked them.

“You’ll have room to grow,” I said.

She nodded.

Wavy wore her new boots out of the store, left her ratty old ones there. She looked happy. Actually waited for me to help her up on the bike, even though she didn’t need it.

“I need to put in another set of foot pegs. Put ’em up high enough for you, so you don’t have to put your feet on the bike frame,” I said.

She’d looked happy before, but she grinned when I mentioned the pegs. That was worth all the weird looks from Marilyn, to get not one or two smiles out of Wavy, but a smile that lasted the whole ride back from Garringer.

At the farmhouse, I figured we’d read or play games until dinner time, but no sooner did I turn off the bike than Val opened the kitchen door. It shocked the hell out of me. I’d only seen Val out of bed a couple times and there she was with her hair done, wearing clothes and shoes.

“Where have you been, Vonnie? You should have been home from school hours ago,” she said.

Wavy stood on the bottom step, but she didn’t move. I didn’t know what to do.

“Get in here before you catch cold,” Val said. “Now!”

Finally, I got off the bike and then Wavy started up the stairs. When she got to the door, Val said, “Give Kellen his helmet.”

When Wavy didn’t, Val took it away from her. By then, I’d come up the steps and Val handed it to me, smacking it into my palm hard enough to sting.