Jean went quiet. I couldn’t tell if he felt like he had overshared or if he had something else he wanted to tell us.
“I’m going to show you guys something,” he finally said. “But don’t judge.”
We followed Jean down a narrow hallway decorated with fancy wide-brimmed hats on hooks to a door marked JEAN-PIERRE. Jean stopped and turned to us.
“So I kind of have this weird hobby. It started a long time ago. I have no idea why I do this, but it’s my thing.”
“You’re making me nervous,” Val said. “It better not be that hobby where they stuff dead animals.”
“You mean taxidermy?” Gordie said.
“No. It’s not taxidermy.” Jean opened the door and flipped on the light, and a hundred faces smiled at us.
We were speechless at first, taking in the full effect of the rows and rows of masks that hung on Jean’s walls. They looked like they came from all over the world. There were tribal masks, Japanese masks, wooden masks, masks bursting with color, some disturbing, some charming. The only thing that unified the masks was that they were all smiling.
“Okay, I need a minute,” I said. I felt like I was in a global bazaar fun house.
“I take it your thing is mask collecting,” Gordie said.
“Actually, I made all these.”
“Shut up,” Alice said. “You did not make these.”
“Yep. I kinda did. I studied indigenous mask making and started coming up with my own variations.”
We sat on Jean’s fluffy teal rug, gnawing on the extra candy necklaces and learning about the art of mask making. Our friend Jean-Pierre was a genius.
“I want to make a mask,” Val said.
“Yeah. We’ll get on that,” Jean said, patting her on the back.
Gordie let out a long yawn. “Damn, it’s late.”
“Oh my God. It’s almost five,” I said, checking my phone. “I have to be at work in a few hours. I’m supposed to be sleeping at your house.” I looked at Val.
“I’m supposed to be at Alice’s.”
Alice stood up and tossed her soggy candy necklace string in Jean’s trash can. She swiveled, put her hands on her hips, and said, “Let’s go to the beach.”
We flung open the Range Rover doors, just as the sun crept up over the horizon. It was high tide and the waves were whitecapped and feisty. Gordie dug around the back for a blanket and a bunch of towels, and we went as close to the water as we could. We sat, five in a row, and watched the sunrise.
“Do you know I’ve lived out here since third grade and I’ve never made it to sunrise?” I said.
Gordie was the only one who had. I pictured him leaving Speakeasy with the elusive and mysterious Keith, who may or may not have been Gordie’s boyfriend.
The colors of early morning layered the sky. Yellow sat on the horizon. Red faded to pink, and orange faded into deep purple. Jean ran to the car to get his sketch pad. Val and Alice lay back on the sand and snuggled under the blanket. Gordie wrapped a beach towel around my shoulders. For a long stretch of time, nobody said a word.
“Do you still have your Geiger counter in the trunk?” Alice said.
“It’s not a Geiger counter, Einstein,” Gordie said, laughing. “It’s a metal detector.”
“You really that hard up that you need lost coins?” Jean said.
“No. But who doesn’t like treasure hunting?”
“Have you ever found anything good?” I said, resting my head on Gordie’s shoulder, drawing body heat from his leg pressed against mine under the beach towel.
“Lots of things. I keep them in my treasure chest.”
I never knew when Gordie Harris was joking.
I arrived at the farm stand in my grungy funeral dress with my hair sticking up and my teeth coated in bacteria. We had stopped at the convenience store to pick up breakfast when I realized I didn’t have time to go home and change.
“I cannot believe you have to work. You poor thing,” Val said.
“Hey, I have to teach art to toddlers in an hour,” Jean said.
“Get out, people,” Alice said. “Let’s sit with Sadie until her boss gets here.”
I told them they didn’t have to, but in an act of solidarity, they joined me under the willow tree. We ate egg sandwiches and drank strong coffee and made fun of Gordie.
“Is that a harmonica in your pocket or are you happy to see me?” Alice said.
“Is that a Geiger counter in your trunk or are you happy to see me?” Jean said.
“Hey, pull up Greg O.’s blog,” Val said.
“Has anybody seen it lately?” Gordie said, taking out his phone. He pulled up Greg O.’s page. It had exploded with comments and posts about Mayans and photos of Mayan temples made out of toothpicks, recycled strips of paper, reclaimed wood.
Thanks to our collective social media campaign and Gordie’s magical abilities to boost website visibility, Greg O.’s site was going viral. Who knew so many people were into the Mayans?
This one looks real! Greg O. had posted about a mini temple made of clay.
“I think our work here is done,” Gordie said. “I dare those asshats to screw with our man Greg now.”
“Can we make more candy necklace care packages?” Val said. “That was really fun.”
“Candy necklace revolution!” Alice said.
“We need a badass revolutionary name,” Gordie said.
“How about the Troll Slammers?” Val said.
“Lame,” Jean said.
“The Troll Assassins,” Alice said.
“Too violent,” Val said.
I stared at the shuttered farm stand. I could barely keep my eyes open. But then it came to me.
“I’ve got it.”
They all looked at me.
“The Unlikelies.”
“Yes!” Alice said, punching me in the arm.
“That is us,” Jean said.
“Yup,” Gordie said. “See? You can’t tell us you don’t have a thing. You’re a natural-born revolutionary namer, Sullivan.”
“The Unlikelies,” Val said.
“Never speak of this to anyone,” Alice said.
“That’s a given,” Jean said.
We all agreed.
When Farmer Brian pulled up, I was saying good-bye through the window of the Range Rover.
“Hey, do you want the suitcase? I can drop it off later,” Gordie said.
“Yeah. I’ll get it at some point.”
“Maybe Jean would like the creepy Raggedy Andy doll, huh, Jean?” Alice said.
“Wait, what’s Raggedy Andy?” I said. My heart quickened.
“You don’t know what Raggedy Andy is, Sadie?” Alice said. “That’s what the doll is called. Raggedy Andy. Duh. Who doesn’t know Raggedy Andy?”
You need to rip off Andy’s legs. Don’t forget. Rip off Andy’s legs.
And suddenly it all made sense.
TEN
MOM NUDGED MY leg with her pink slipper. “Sadie, Gordie Harris is outside.”
I sat up, disoriented, in the darkened room and looked at my phone. “How is it after nine?”
Farmer Brian had shown mercy on me and let me leave work at lunchtime. I’d been sleeping ever since.
“You know sleep deprivation is not good for you, Sadie. How about you stay in and relax for once?”
“I am staying in. Can you tell him I’ll be right down?”