He Started It(36)

We get a hotel room about five miles away from the watchtower. The name is different and it’s been remodeled, but at first I think it’s the same place we stayed the first time. I realize it’s not when I look out the window. It’s on the wrong side of the road.

Portia is with us tonight, though she drops off her stuff and leaves right away. She’s been acting odd since we got here, but I guess we all are at this point.

It’s late afternoon, giving us time to rest and eat before going back to see the UFOs at night like we did last time. Nikki made us go late, after midnight, because she figured the aliens waited until most people were asleep. This time we’ll go after dinner.

Felix wants to nap. I go for a walk.

On the other side of the road, there’s a general store. That’s what it’s called: Paula’s General Store. It has a little bit of everything, from food to paper towels, air filters to scissors. And cigarettes. They have generic, name brand, and e-cigarettes, along with the nicotine gum, lozenges, and patches. Paula’s is a one-stop shop for all things nicotine.

I buy three packs of Felix’s brand and three lighters, all blue plastic. The purchase makes me angry. Cigarettes are more expensive than I realized. Felix has no business spending this kind of money on them, especially if it might cost him his job.

Out behind the store, I open a pack, take out a couple of cigarettes, and throw them away. Next I put all three lighters on the ground and rub them against the cement, scratching them up. Some guy sees me and watches. Maybe thinking I’m crazy, maybe trying to figure out what I’m doing. I smile at him and he walks away.

When I’m done, I put everything in my bag and go back to the motel. Portia is outside talking to Krista.

“Where’d you go?” Krista says.

“Across the road. There’s a general store over there.”

Portia snorts. “Good shopping?”

“They have Flaky Flix cookies,” I say.

“Shut up.”

I shrug.

“No one has Flaky Flix. They don’t make them anymore,” Portia says.

“What are Flaky Flix?” Krista says. Just as she speaks, Eddie comes out of their motel room. His hair is wet and he’s wearing a clean T-shirt. I bet it took him five minutes to look that fresh and clean.

“Flaky Flix?” he says. “You’re talking about Flaky Flix?”

“Beth claims the store across the road has them,” Portia says.

Now I’m caught, because Eddie knows it can’t be true. He looks at me and shakes his head, then proceeds to spout off the history of Mother’s brand Flaky Flix cookies, right down to the date they were discontinued.

Portia glares at me. “Liar.”

“So sue me,” I say.

In our world, Flaky Flix were no joke—least of all to our mother. Those cookies were one of the few things she loved.



* * *



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Nikki discovered them first. She found half a pack of Flaky Flix cookies at the top of a kitchen cabinet. It was summer and we were bored, so we set up a little sting operation to catch whoever was eating the hidden cookies.

“Count how many are left,” Nikki said, handing me the package.

I was about eight years old. Nikki was thirteen and always gave the orders and I always obeyed. I counted seventeen cookies. She counted them herself and confirmed.

“We have to set up a schedule,” she said. “After dinner, we’ll keep track of who comes and goes and try to count the cookies in between.”

This was a little trick we learned from Mom. A few years earlier, she set up a similar trap to figure out who was messing with the garden figures she had placed around the backyard. We all said it wasn’t us, it must be the deer or possums or some other wild animal. She didn’t believe it, and she was right not to. Her little trap with a video camera caught Eddie knocking the figures over and crushing the flowers underneath.

We used a similar plan, although we didn’t have a camera so we had to take turns watching in real time.

One evening, I was sitting in the family room when Nikki waved at me from the hallway. She was practically jumping up and down, and we both ran upstairs.

Now that she was thirteen, her room was in transition. Part child, part teenager. The lavender she used to love had made way for her new colors, black and red, and her toys were being replaced by clothes, rock band posters, and fashion magazines. She had stopped inviting me in so often. Tonight was special.

“Mom,” she said. “It’s Mom.”

“No way.”

“Way.” Her eyes were so bright they could’ve lit up the whole house. “We have to mess with her.”

I shook my head. No one made Mom angry on purpose, that was an unspoken rule in our house. “We’ll get in trouble,” I said.

“Oh come on.”

“We can’t.”

“Stop being a baby,” Nikki said.

I didn’t want to be a baby. More importantly, I didn’t want Nikki to think of me as one. It was also because the cookies were our secret. Eddie didn’t know, and Portia was only two years old. This was ours.

Nikki wanted to do to Mom what she had done to Eddie. Mom messed with him the same way, only hers was even worse. She stomped on one of the garden figures and on her flowers, leaving behind giant fake footprints to make him believe there was a wild animal in the backyard. His reaction was caught on camera, and it became one of our favorite holiday videos.