The True Meaning of Smekday Page 9

  Arizona. I couldn’t believe it.

  “But…they promised it to us. They promised it to us forever.”

  Curly snorted. I suddenly felt a little foolish. Naive.

  “That was before they discovered oranges,” said Tanner. “The Boov really like oranges.”

  “So they loaded everyone back up and took them to Arizona,” said Christian.

  “They grow oranges in Arizona too,” said Yosuan.

  “Bleep,” said Curly. “Nothing grows in Arizona. It’s all desert.”

  “It’s not,” Yosuan said quietly. “My grandma lives there.”

  I thought about J.Lo eating dental floss.

  “Waitaminit. Oranges? The Boov actually eat oranges?”

  “No…” said Yosuan, squinting. “They mostly wear them, I think.”

  We lapsed into silence again, which Curly broke with a rude noise.

  “Okay,” I said, “my turn. Which one of you guys is Boob?”

  Most of the boys broke up into nervous giggling. Especially the younger ones.

  “BOOB is an…acronym,” said Christian. “It stands for Brotherhood—”

  “Brotherhood!” Curly interrupted. “No girls! And no pictures!”

  I gave him a sour look. “The graffiti I saw said ‘humans.’”

  “That’s because Marcos bleeped up.”

  Marcos flinched.

  Christian continued as if everyone were still listening. “Brotherhood Organized against Oppressive Boov. It stands for that.”

  “Shouldn’t it be B-O-A-O-B, then?”

  “We really wanted it to be BOOB,” said Marcos, and all the younger boys giggled again. Christian looked pained.

  “Well…all right,” I said. “So what are you guys doing?”

  “Doing?” said one of the boys.

  “Yeah. ‘Brotherhood Organized against Oppressive Boov,’ right? So what are you doing to fight them?”

  “Fight them?” said Marcos. There were general snorts of disbelief from all the boys. “Have you seen those guns they have?”

  “We’re…we’re not letting them have us,” someone said. “We’re not letting them tell us where to go. That’s fighting them.”

  “And we’re eating all this spoiled ice cream and corn dogs, and living at Happy Mouse Kingdom!” said another. “They’d hate that, if they knew.”

  The boys mostly nodded to each other, and said things like “Yeah, that’s showin’ ’em,” and, “They can’t push us around.” I noticed only Christian looked sort of disappointed. I imagined he and I were thinking the same thing: Well, so much for the revolution.

  The murmuring died down into uncomfortable silence. A silence as huge and awkward as a castle hanging from the ceiling.

  “Okay,” I said. “Why are there upside-down buildings underground?”

  “Ha! Dumbbleep. Everyone knows that.”

  Christian looked at Curly. “You didn’t know it three weeks ago.”

  “Three weeks? Is that how long you guys have been here?”

  “Some of us,” said Christian. “Some not as long, some longer. Alberto and I have been here five months.”

  Five months. Since the time of the invasion.

  “Our parents worked here,” said Alberto. “So…so we knew about the underground…and—”

  And suddenly, Alberto was crying. He made a fist with his face, and soon loud sobs filled the room.

  “Oh, bleep. Here we go. You’re such a bleep, Albert.”

  I didn’t know what I’d done. I looked to Christian for help, but he just continued the story.

  “Our parents worked here. Alberto’s dad and my mom. They have two of every building—every big one, anyway. During the day they clean the one underground, repaint whatever needs repainting, fix stuff, that sort of thing. Then, in the middle of the night, fllip!”

  “Flip?” I frowned. “What…You’re joking. You mean they flip all of the buildings around?”

  “Yep. Clean one goes on top, dirty one swings underground for cleaning.”

  “Huh.”

  Alberto sniffed and wiped his face with the back of his hand. I felt bad for him. He was one of the little kids.

  “We came here to hide out when the aliens showed up,” said Christian, “because our parents were gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “They disappeared. On Christmas Eve.”

  Alberto started wailing again. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “On Christmas Eve,” I repeated.

  Christian thought I was challenging him, I guess. “Believe whatever you want, but yes, they disappeared a day before the invasion. I think they must have known too much, and the Boov killed them.”

  “No-no,” I stammered. “I believe you. My mom was taken, too.”

  “Bleep, you’re a liar. Why do you lie so much?” said Curly.

  But Christian and Alberto were listening. Everyone was.

  “Taken?” said Christian. “Like…abducted?”

  “Yeah. Not killed. Did your parents say anything about being abducted before then? Weeks before then?”

  “No,” said Alberto, looking glum.

  “Yes,” said Christian. “That is, my mom told me about this weird dream she’d had, about being taken by aliens and made to sew pillowcases.”

  Curly laughed.

  “I don’t think it was a dream,” said Christian. “The aliens she described, they were just like the Boov.”

  “It wasn’t a dream,” I said, grinning, happy to have some good news to tell. “It really happened to your mom. Your dad, too,” I added, nodding at Alberto. “I’m sure of it. He probably just didn’t tell anyone, or he didn’t remember. They were only kidnapped so the Boov could learn our languages. My mom spoke two, I think that was why she was chosen. We’re Italian.”

  They all gave me the sort of looks I usually get when I say that.

  “My mom’s white,” I added.

  Alberto looked better. “My dad spoke Portuguese! So do I, a little.”

  “My mom spoke…speaks Spanish,” said Christian. “And you think they’re okay?”

  “I have it on good authority that they’re safe, and with everyone else.”

  “Yeah?” said Curly. “Whose authority? How does some stupid girl know all this?”

  I swallowed. “What…difference does that make? The important thing—”

  “The important thing is you heard it from a Boov. Because you’re a bleeping Boov spy.”

  I had a feeling telling Curly that he was both right and wrong was not going to help my case any.

  “For the last time, I’m not a spy! I’ve been aboveground for the last five months. And I’ve been traveling. You pick up things.” Like fugitive Boov, for example.

  Alberto began to sniffle. “My dad may be okay,” he said, “but now he’s all the way in Arizona! I don’t even know where that is!”

  Soon he was weeping again, and that was it for me. It was as contagious and sudden as a yawn. I did the last thing I wanted to do in front of the Brotherhood Organized against Oppressive Boov. My face grew hot, and the tears choked out of me like I was sick. My heart was broken, had been for five months, and I couldn’t keep it together anymore.

  “Oh, look at her,” said Curly. “It figures.”

  I turned my back on the circle of candles. I looked away from the inverted castle and focused on the dark corner of the room, trying to will myself to stop crying. I was trying at that moment to ignore everything that might remind me of the state I was in, figuratively and geographically, so I almost didn’t hear.

  One of the boys said, “What’s that on her back?”

  “Zipper,” said Curly.

  I straightened up, my breath coming in huffs, and tried to see what he was talking about. I couldn’t.

  “No…no it’s…” someone said. “Is that…that isn’t…”

  A few of the boys were drawing near.

  “It is!” shouted Curly. “It’s a Bee!”


  “A bee?” I whispered.

  Everyone was talking now, fast and loud.

  “Well, okay,” I said, drying my eyes. “Brush it off. I’m not allergic or anything.”

  Christian had come around to look at me, and I could see it all there in his face, before he said a word.

  “It’s not that kind of bee.”

  Oh, I thought. A Bee. I pictured its silver body clinging to my sweater, ready to pop and burn through my skin.

  “That proves it! She’s a bleeping spy! Why else would she have one of their bees on her?”

  They were all advancing on me. Christian stepped between us.

  “Now…hold on,” he said, and I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. “This doesn’t…necessarily prove anything. Maybe…maybe they put the Bee on her to force her down here—”

  “I swear! I have no idea why this thing is on my back! I’m not doing anything for the Boov. I haven’t even seen a Boov in days!” I said.

  So this was arguably the worst possible moment for J.Lo to come running across the room, shouting my name.

  “Gratuity! Gratuity!” he said, appearing suddenly from the shadows. “Gratuity! We must to run! We must—Oh. Hello, boy humans.”

  The collected members of BOOB scattered like pigeons, flapping and knocking over candles and boxes. Alberto started to cry again. Only Christian and Curly remained.

  “Bleep,” whispered Curly.

  “J.Lo! What are you doing here? Why is there a Bee on my back?”

  “Oho! You see!” Curly said. “They know each other! I was right!”

  “No,” I said, “you’re not. It’s not what it looks like—”

  “BOOB boys! Get ’em!” ordered Curly, but there was no one left to order, apart from Christian.

  “What is this?” he said.

  “J.Lo…this Boov,” I said. “He’s all right. The other Boov hate him. He’s like…a Boov criminal.”

  I’m not sure if that was the best choice of words. You had to be there.

  “He’s hiding from the other Boov?” said Christian.

  “Yes!” said J.Lo. “Yes! And they are to coming! They founded our car, and I drove like a superstar, but they will be coming soon!”

  “So?” said Curly. “Let’s tie him up and leave him here. The Boov will find him and go.”

  “Don’t you—” I began angrily, then checked myself. “Just let us leave,” I said, looking at Christian. “I’ll make sure they don’t find you.”

  “Us? Us?” Curly said. His face was red like a zit waiting to pop. “You’d rather go with a bleeping Boov than stay with your own kind?”

  “Well, now that you put it that way, you have made me feel sooo welcome—”

  “You’re a traitor! He stole your mom and still you’re a traitor!”

  J.Lo cowered behind me. Above us I began to think I could hear noises. Voices. And these weren’t human at all.

  I grabbed J.Lo’s arm. I didn’t think anything of it at that moment. Later I’d realize it was the first time I’d touched him. Touched him without trying to hit him, anyway.

  “C’mon,” I said, and pulled him back in the direction from which he appeared.

  Curly was just screaming a laundry list of expletives now.

  “No,” said J.Lo. “We cannot go from back there. The patrol is behind me.”

  “If we go any other way they’ll follow us through here and find the boys,” I said. “Where’s the car?”

  “Hiding behindto many birds inside toasters.”

  “The English Puffins ride,” said Christian, who was suddenly at our side. “I can show you a quick way upstairs. Follow me.”

  I smiled, and he gave me sort of a half-smile back. We went to an access ladder and went up, slowly. J.Lo was not great with ladders.

  “There’s a Bee on my back,” I told him.

  “A whatnow?”

  Then I think he saw what I meant.

  “Oh, yes. A bluzzer. A hunting drone. I did to put it there.”

  “What? Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Kill…? Oh, no, do not be ridicumulous. Is not the exploring kind. It told me where you were.”

  “Like a homing device,” whispered Christian.

  “Yes, like this homo thing.”

  I was mad and ashamed at the same time. J.Lo hadn’t trusted me, but I hadn’t been trustworthy. I kept quiet as we reached the top of the ladder, which opened into a corridor.

  “Take the second left,” said Christian. “Then the first right. Go up the first ladder you see.”

  “Why don’t you come with us?” I asked. “You and Alberto. Find your parents.”

  Christian looked back at me. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He bit his lip. He looked forward and back.

  “No,” he said. Then he shook his head. “No. I can’t. The…Brotherhood, and all.”

  I thought I understood. If Christian left, Curly would have all the other kids feeding him grapes and rubbing his feet within a week.

  “But…” he said, “maybe we can still help you out a bit. And if you run into a Maria Gonzales in Arizona…tell her Christian is all right. Tell her Alberto is all right; she knows his father.”

  I promised I would, and we hurried away without even thanking him.

  I cut through the halls, nearly dragging J.Lo behind me. It turned out that Boov were not so great at running either, despite all those legs. Around the second corner I heard voices, so I winked off the flashlight. It didn’t matter.

  “They have seen us!” said J.Lo.

  There was a long hall, and a Boov patrol at the end of it. In the middle was the ladder.

  “Run fast,” I said, and we made for it, hurtling closer and closer to the Boov all the while. There were four of them, and they saw the ladder too. Our only grace was that they couldn’t move any faster than J.Lo.

  “I can’t…believe…” I huffed, pulling at his wrist, “that we were…conquered by you people!”

  “Halt!” said one of the Boov. Then he shouted something in Boovish that I’m guessing was also “halt.” They might have known we were unarmed, because their own guns weren’t drawn. So they were probably surprised when we all reached the ladder at the same time and I squirted the two in front with window cleaner.

  “Baaaah!” they shouted, shielding their eyes. “MuNah-ah-ah-ah!”

  They stopped dead, blocking the corridor, and their comrades stumbled over them as I pushed J.Lo up the ladder. I followed, with another Boov right behind me. I tried squirting him too, but he swung his wide, garbage-lid mouth open so the ammonia only went down his throat. He lapped it up like fruit punch.

  “Do not to feed them!” said J.Lo. “Why are you feeding them?”

  We were at the top of the ladder, pushing up through a trapdoor into the blue morning air. The patrol Boov swiped at my ankles, and I was thankful for his tiny frog arms. Still, he’d have me in a moment.

  Then I remembered the miniature turkey baster. I pulled it from my pocket, pointed down, and squeezed. A deafening cone of huge, sticky bubbles sprayed out like noisy champagne. It was loud like a jet engine. The Boov were all knocked off the ladder, and J.Lo and I were shot up through the trapdoor like cannonballs. We landed ungracefully a few feet away.

  “That…that is not what that is for,” said J.Lo.

  “What?”

  “What?”

  “Where’s the car?”

  “What?”

  We stood and looked around. Christian had gotten us pretty close to the English Puffins ride. I hoped the car was still there. I hoped Pig was still in the car.

  We dashed toward a big ring of toasters with puffins sticking out. The puffins sat in one slot of the toaster, and you sat in the other, and the whole ring spun around while the toaster lever popped you up and down. I’d always hated that ride.

  We were nearly there when a statue of Happy Mouse we were passing suddenly didn’t have a head or arms anymore, and I realized the Boov were shooting at us.<
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  “Get down!” I shouted. “Hide!”

  I pushed J.Lo to the ground behind a snack bar, and wondered if they’d just start blasting everything to pieces.

  “What are they doing? What are they doing?” I whispered.

  J.Lo peeked around. “They are coming up slow. Trying to surround. They are maybe thinking we are having other things for shooting at them.”

  I wished it were true. The car was so close. I could see it now, between two puffin heads.

  “There is the good news and the not very good news,” whispered J.Lo.

  “What’s the good news?”

  “I am believing that they want to take me alive.”

  “And the bad?”

  “I am not believing they want to take you alive.”

  “Maybe…” I whispered, “maybe if we stay real close together, they can’t shoot.” And then I thought, Why am I whispering? They know where we are.

  “Hey!” I shouted. “Heeeeey!”

  J.Lo looked at me like I’d finally lost it.

  “What…” he whispered. “What do…”

  I screamed my best monster-movie scream. We both peered around the side of the snack bar.

  “Why do you do it? Whyfor?”

  “Lions,” I said. “They can’t climb trees, but there’s nothing wrong with their ears.”

  “Ah,” said J.Lo, nodding. “Hm. This is some old humans expression?”

  Then we saw it. A Boov bolted out of an alley with a half-starved lion running behind him.

  “Ahh! Big kitten!” said J.Lo.

  “Shh! Time to be quiet,” I said.

  The Boov was shooting wildly behind him, vanishing rooftops and lampposts but not upsetting the lion a bit. They ran behind a snack bar, and three other Boov scurried out, crying like sheep.

  J.Lo and I crept out and around the Puffins ride. There was the car, in one piece, and Pig pressed up against the glass.

  “I hope he’ll be okay,” I said as we scrambled into the front seats. I was watching the lion pin a Boov down as the others raced up to help.

  “The other patrol Boov will to assist him with the lion,” said J.Lo.

  I had meant the lion, but decided not to say so.

  Slushious swiveled around, and I guided it through the park, taking a wide loop back to the entrance.

  “We made it,” I said. “We got away.”