Bugger
Roy’s tongue hurt. A lot. He gingerly
tried to pull it back into his mouth, but it was frozen fast to the cast iron
railing on his front porch. It felt like the ice was pulling his taste buds
off. He was just about to pull some more when the door opened. Roy looked over
and there was his mother. She did that thing where she settled all of her
weight back on one foot and crossed her arms. “Again?” she said. It looked like
another bad day to show her the microphone he’d built.
Roy gave his tongue another tug. Halfway
done.
“It’s December, Roy,” his mom said. “What
were you thinking?”
One last pull and Roy was free from the
railing. He turned to face his mother and puffed out his chest. Half of his
mouth felt somewhere between stinging pins and needles and numbness, but he
forced out the words, “I’m going da be a thienthist.” Roy picked up his book
bag and walked into the house.
“Is that what you were thinking when you
put your legs in the arm holes of a life jacket and jumped in the lake?”
Roy rolled his eyes. “I was four.”
“You drowned.” She helped him out of his
thick parka and hung it up on the hook.
“Almost drowned,” he corrected her and
fought his way out of his boots.
“Whatever you say, Roy. Now go get
cleaned up. The guests will be arriving in only two hours.”
Great. Another dinner party. There’d
never be a good time. Roy could probably win a Nobel Prize and his mom would
have to watch the ceremony in a rerun. Roy picked up his book bag and trudged
up the stairs. On impulse, he turned around.
“Hey mom, can I show-”
“Go.”
Roy dumped his books on his bedroom floor
with a thud. “How was school, Roy?” he asked in a pretend version of his mom’s
voice. “It was fine, mom. I got an A on my science test. And look what I made!”
He grabbed the microphone he’d just finished building last week. “That’s
wonderful, Roy. I’m so proud of you.” He grabbed a speaker and put it on his
desk next to the microphone. “Thanks, mom.” Roy tested the tuning and checked
the batteries.
The equipment communicated perfectly. Roy
had an idea. He’d show her his project at the party. That way, they could both
get what they wanted.
Roy snuck into his mom’s room and hid the
microphone in the vanity’s top drawer.
Back in his room, Roy changed into his
nice trousers and an itchy, starchy white shirt. He jammed his feet into his
shiny, black dress shoes and combed his hair flat. He looked himself over in
the mirror. His mom’s clean and proper son looked back at him out of the glass
and shrugged. Roy frowned and defiantly snatched the tie decorated with methane
molecules.
He looked at the clock. An hour left
until the house would be filled with boring grownups. Loud boring grownups. Loud
boring grownups that thought they were interesting and funny. Those were the
worst kind of grownups ever. They did things like pinch cheeks and pretend not
to know about the things he learned in science class 2 years ago. At least he
hoped they were pretending.
As usual, Roy’s mom didn’t start getting
ready until his dad got home. Roy wondered if she was afraid to go in her room
without him of something. She always took forever to primp her makeup or
whatever it was moms did, and it was always Roy’s job to keep the guests
entertained while they waited.
The first doorbell rang 5 minutes early.
Roy straightened his methane tie, marched down the stairs, and left the speaker
behind a lamp. “Mr. and Mrs. Stiller, come on in,” Roy said as he opened the
door.
“Hello Roy, dear,” Mrs. Stiller handed
Roy her purse and smiled too big at him. He spun round just fast enough to
avoid getting pinched and put the purse in a closet.
“My parents will be right down,” he
explained and led them away from the entry.
The grownups sat down on the couch in the
living room, and Roy claimed the end of the couch next to the lamp hiding his
speaker.
“How’s school, Roy?” Mr. Stiller asked.
“It’s good,” Roy said. “I finished my
science project early.”
“Oh?” Mr. Stiller raised his brows. “What
is it?
“I made a wireless microphone and
speaker.”
“All by yourself?” Mrs. Stiller said.
“Yeah,” Roy smiled. “I tried to show Mom
earlier, but she was busy. So I’m gonna show everyone later.”
The doorbell rang again and Roy jumped up
to go answer it. Soon the living room couches were filled up with the Stillers,
the Greens, the Browns, the Yates’, and the Turners. Roy reached over and
turned the speaker to top volume, and his mom’s voice burst from behind the
lamp.
“What do you think, Dan? The red or the
pink?”
“You’re about to eat dinner. It’s just
gonna get rubbed off anyway.”
“Oh, you’re just useless at this.” There
was a pause.
The room was oddly quiet, and the guests
looked puzzled. Except Mr. Stiller. He looked like he was about to say something,
but Roy’s mom’s voice over the speaker cut him off.
“Did you have to invite the Browns?”
“You’re the one who invited the Stillers,”
Roy’s dad said.
“Oh come on, Dan.” Roy’s mom said. “You
know what Sheila would do if she found out that we had the Greens over without
her.”
The guests traded embarrassed glances. The
Stillers were especially stiff and quiet on the couch.
Roy hid a smirk.
“Don’t you think it’s a little quiet down
there?”
“Just a bit, yeah. You about ready?”
“Just about.” There was the scratching
noise of the microphone’s drawer opening. “What’s this? Something of yours or
Roy’s?”
“It’s not mine,” Roy’s dad said.
Roy heard his parents’ door closing and
footsteps coming down the stairs echoed by the speaker behind the lamp. They
walked into a silent party.
“Hello everyone!” Roy’s mom said and the
speaker squealed at the microphone’s close proximity. Everything was still
until Roy reached behind the lamp for his speaker. His mother’s jaw dropped a
little when she saw it. “You didn’t…”
Roy shrugged. “I tried to show you.”
