“Marco. Tomorrow we’re going to find bugs.”
Marco doesn’t say anything. I really don’t expect him to ’cause he’s not real, he’s just a stuffed animal. But even though I know that, I kind of think maybe he’s more than that. Marco’s been to a lot of places, to lots of different houses with kids like me and their families.
Mommy read me a story a little while ago, a story she said her mommy read to her when she was little. It was called The Velveteen Rabbit, and it was about a stuffed animal who got loved on so much that he became totally real. I think maybe Marco is real, but only when the lights are out and everyone’s asleep. Kind of like Santa Claus, ’cause he only comes when all the kids are sleeping.
“I think you’re real, Marco. I know you are,” I tell him. “And I know you’re not going to come to life until after I fall asleep, but that’s okay. I got real awesome books you can read, like Goodnight Moon and Where Do Balloons Go and Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. I can’t read that one by myself, but I bet you can. And I got a big ’cyclopedia of bugs—it’s on the bottom shelf and Auntie Ruth gave that one to me, and that one would be really good for you to read tonight while I’m sleeping so you’re ready to find bugs tomorrow morning.”
Marco doesn’t move. His skin is like the blanket my nanny made for me when I was born, all knitted with yarn. It’s brown on his arms and legs and back, but then on his face, his nose and mouth are a lighter color, like sand, like the color of Mommy and Daddy’s bathroom. And then there’s a red stripe across the middle of his mouth, I guess for his lips. They’re kind of curvy up, like in a smile, and his eyes are shiny black buttons.
He’s smiling at me, and I squeeze him tight and think about all the eggs I found today, and counting them. And then, when we got back to Mrs. Hartnett’s classroom, how she went over to the big cabinet and pulled Marco down off the shelf and handed him to me with a really serious face, telling me what an honor it was for me to have Marco for the whole break and how important it was for me to take real good care of him. I already knew that, but I nodded anyway so she’d know I knew.
I’m so excited that I get to keep him for a week—nine whole days, if you count the weekends. I already love him lots, and I know I’m going to be sad when I have to take him back to Mrs. Hartnett, but I’m not going to think about that. I’m just going to have the best time ever. Starting tomorrow.
I pull on Marco’s arms and bend them up and down, and then I think maybe he won’t be strong enough to get the ’cyclopedia off the shelf. Maybe when he comes alive he gets all strong and stuff, but what if he doesn’t? I push off my covers and get out of bed and go to my bookshelf, then I drag the big ’cyclopedia off the shelf and put it on the floor. I open it to the middle of the book. I can’t see the pages real good ’cause it’s pretty dark, but I can tell by the shape that the bug on the page is from the order Coleoptera. Beetles and weevils. I think it’s a Buprestidae. I know most of the orders and suborders, and Daddy and Mommy think I’m a genius when it comes to bugs, even though Mommy gets all icked out when I talk about some of them.
I kind of want to turn on my light and look through my ’cyclopedia, but I know I need to go to sleep so I can have lots of energy for tomorrow.
I leave the ’cyclopedia open for Marco, then crawl back into bed and pull my covers up over me and him, then pull him into me.
“Tomorrow’s gonna be the best day ever, Marco.”
FIFTY-ONE
EDEN
I feel tired, but my stomach is still really full, so it’s hard to get comfy. I probably shouldn’t have had seconds at dinner, but Aunt Ruth’s lasagna is so yummy, I couldn’t help it.
I like what she said to me before, about me feeling better soon. I hope she’s right. I try to tell myself over and over that I never really liked Ryan Anderson that much, but it feels like a lie. I should have read Percy Jackson before dinner instead of looking at my yearbook from last year. I kept reading what Ryan wrote. I read it so much, I know it by heart.
Ur 2 good 2 B 4gotten. Have a gr8 summer. Stay awesome. RyAn.
Ryan Anderson.
Stay awesome. He thinks I’m awesome. Well, he did at the end of the school year last year. I don’t think he thinks I’m awesome now, not after Jonah attacked me with hugs today. But he used to think I was awesome.
Fuck Jonah, I think. And then my cheeks get really hot because even though I didn’t say the f-word out loud, which would mean I owed, like, twenty dollars to the curse jar, I thought the f-word, and that’s bad. Especially because I thought it toward my little brother. And that’s a big-time no-no.
The night-light in the corner of my room makes a shadow dance on the ceiling. I told Mom and Dad that I didn’t need a night-light, that I was too old for one. But they said it was for them, so that they wouldn’t trip over anything when they came to check on me. I know they only told me that so they could keep the light on for me, and I was kind of mad, like I thought maybe they were thinking I was a baby who needed it. But I’m kind of glad they kept it. It’s not that I’m afraid of the dark, or anything, not like Jonah, who wants Mom and Dad to keep the hall light on. I don’t like the hall light being on, because it’s too bright and I can’t sleep. So Mom told me I could close my door—almost all the way. But the night-light is okay because if I need to go to the bathroom—and sometimes I do in the middle of the night—I can see my way.
And also, the night-light helps keep the monsters away.
I don’t believe in monsters, not really, but I know that bad things can happen, and sometimes they happen in the middle of the night, and sometimes when they happen, if only a light had been on, then the bad things might not have been too bad, because you could see your way out of them.
I know I should be real happy. It’s the start of spring break, and I have a whole week of sleeping late and not going to school and not doing homework. But I won’t get to see Ryan, either, and that sucks big-time. Uh-oh. I owe the curse jar, like, twenty-five dollars now, but I can’t help what I think.
It’s okay. It’s spring break, and maybe by the time we go back to school, Ryan will have forgotten about Jonah’s hug, and he’ll start acting normal again, like he knows I exist, that I’m there, and we’ll talk about favorite candies and things.
It’s going to be a fun vacation. Mom and Dad haven’t said anything about plans to go away or anything. But that’s okay. It’s better, really, because then I can spend more time with my friends. I think I’ll FaceTime Carlee in the morning. Maybe Ava, too. Maybe we can have a playdate. I know Mom will let me.
My eyes start feeling really heavy and tired. I like watching the dancing shadow on the ceiling, but I can’t keep my eyelids open any longer. I close them and see Ryan Anderson in my brain. He’s smiling, and I can’t help but smile back.
FIFTY-TWO