Blubber Page 2

  When the chickens were fed we went inside to Tracy’s room to look over our latest approvals from the Winthrop Stamp Company. We decided we’d each buy two stamps.

  Tracy showed me the Halloween costume her mother is making for her—Big Bird from Sesame Street. It has yellow feathers and everything.

  “It’s beautiful!” I said. I still didn’t have an idea for my costume.

  We went to work on our albums, trading doubles and fastening loose stamps to the page. And then, right in the middle of licking a stamp hinge, I thought up a costume so clever I didn’t even tell Tracy. I decided it would be a surprise.

  That night, when my mother and father got home, they brought two big pumpkins with them.

  I waited until we were halfway through with dinner before I brought up the subject of my Halloween costume. “I don’t think I want to be a witch this year,” I said. I hoped I wouldn’t hurt Mom’s feelings because the witch’s costume was hers when she was a kid. It has funny, pointy-toed shoes with silver buckles, a high black silk hat and a long black robe with a bow at the neck. The whole thing smells like mothballs. Besides, the shoes hurt my feet.

  “You can be whatever you want,” my mother said and she didn’t sound insulted.

  “If she doesn’t want to wear the witch’s suit, can I?” Kenny asked.

  “A boy witch?” I said.

  “Sure. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing,” Mom told him. “I’d love to have you wear my costume.”

  “And I’m going to carry a broom,” Kenny said. “And remember that fake cigar from my last year’s disguise … I’m going to use that too. I’ll bet there aren’t many witches around who smoke cigars.”

  “Smoking is dangerous to your health!” I said.

  “My cigar’s fake, stupid!”

  I gave him a kick under the table and was pleased to see that Mom ground out the cigarette she’d been smoking.

  “What about you, Jill?” my father asked. “What do you want to be?”

  “Oh … I’ve been thinking I might like to be a flenser.”

  “What’s that?” Kenny asked.

  “You mean you don’t know?” I said.

  “Never heard of it.”

  “With all your facts in the Book of World Records you never learned about the oldest flenser and the youngest flenser and the flenser who did the best job and all that?”

  “Dad …” Kenny said. “She’s starting in again.”

  I absolutely love to tease Kenny.

  “Jill, that’s enough,” my father said. “Tell Kenny what a flenser is.”

  “Yes,” Mom said. “I can hardly wait to hear myself.”

  “You mean you don’t know either?” I asked my mother.

  “Never heard the word. Did you, Gordon?”

  “Nope,” Dad said.

  Kenny jumped up. “I’ll be right back,” he told us, as he ran out of the room.

  I knew where he was going—to look up “flenser” in his dictionary.

  In a few minutes he was back, carrying it. “A flenser strips the blubber off whales,” he read, looking at me. “That’s what you’re going to be for Halloween?” he asked, like he couldn’t believe it.

  I smiled.

  “Where did you get that idea, Jill?” Mom asked.

  “From this girl in my class. She gave a report on whales.”

  “Well … that’s certainly original,” Dad said.

  “What kind of costume does a flenser wear?” Kenny asked.

  “A flenser suit,” I told him.

  “Yeah … but what’s it made of?”

  “Oh … jeans and a shirt and a special kind of hat and a long knife.”

  “No knife,” my father said. “That’s too dangerous.”

  “Not a real knife,” I said. “One made out of cardboard.”

  “What kind of hat?” Kenny asked.

  “A flenser hat, naturally,” I told him.

  “Yeah … but what’s it look like?”

  “I can’t begin to describe it. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “I’d wear boots if I was a flenser,” Kenny said.

  “What for?” I asked him.

  “Because of walking around in all that yucky blubber stuff.”

  Kenny was right. I’d have to wear boots too.

  After dinner we went into the living room for our family poker game. I handed out the Monopoly money. We each get $150 from the bank. My father shuffled the cards, Mom cut them and Kenny dealt.

  I got a pair of kings and three junk cards. I’m careful not to give my hand away by the expression on my face. You can always tell what Kenny is holding. If it’s something good he makes all kinds of noises and he laughs a lot. Even if he doesn’t have anything good he stays in and takes three new cards. He never drops out when he should because he can’t stand not betting against the rest of us.

  When it comes to bluffing my father is the best. Every time he stays in and starts raising I think he has three aces and unless I have something really great I drop out. Then I’ll find out Dad didn’t even have a pair. My mother is not an experienced poker player. She can never remember which is higher—a flush or a straight. Sometimes I have to help her out.

  Later, when me and Kenny were in our pajamas and ready for bed, my father said we could carve our pumpkins. Mom had to go to her room because the smell of pumpkin guts makes her sick to her stomach.

  Last year, when I cut out my pumpkin’s face, it was all lopsided, but this time I got both eyes even and the nose in between. Dad made the teeth for me. Kenny wouldn’t let anyone touch his pumpkin, which is why it turned out looking like it had three eyes and no teeth.

  3

  “And now … for the most

  original costume of the day …”

  The next night I turned my mother’s old beach hat into part of my flenser suit. Mom didn’t mind because she’d worn the hat for four years and was getting tired of it. My mother never sets foot on the beach without wearing a floppy hat. She thinks it’s very bad to get sun on her face. She’s always saying that sun makes wrinkles and wrinkles make people look older and that someday I will know what she means. My father doesn’t worry about wrinkles so he never has to wear anything on his head. I’ll be like him when I grow up. How can you dive under the waves with a floppy hat on your head?

  I look much older in the beach hat. I could pass for twelve, I think, maybe even thirteen with sun glasses. The beach hat is so big it covers most of my face. It used to be lots of different colors but now it’s faded into a kind of bluish-gray.

  I tried to find pictures of whales to decorate the hat but I couldn’t so I settled for some of dolphins instead. I cut them out and stapled them all over the brim. Then I cut a piece of black construction paper into thin strips and attached them too. They hung down the sides, kind of like hair.

  I shaped my flenser knife like a sword, but with a big curl at one end. I covered it with gold sparkle and painted my boots to match. Then I tried on my whole costume.

  I went to my mother’s room to have a look in her long mirror but Kenny was already there, admiring himself in the witch’s suit. He had on his yellow goggles and the fake cigar dangled out of the corner of his mouth. He was doing some strange dance but as soon as he saw me he stopped.

  “I just wanted to see if it fit okay,” he said. He walked away from the mirror, tripping over the pointy witch’s shoes. “It’s hard to walk in these things,” he told me, kicking them off.

  “Can I ask you a very simple question?” I said.

  “Go ahead …”

  “Why are you wearing your goggles?”

  “If you have to ask, you wouldn’t understand,” Kenny told me. “But speaking of goggles … did you know that the first motorcycle race was in France, in 1897?”

  “No, I didn’t. But thanks for telling me.”

  Kenny looked me up and down. “Is that what you’re wearing tomorrow?”

  “Yes, it’s my
flenser suit.” I stood in front of the mirror and held the sword out.

  “What’d you do to your boots?”

  “Painted them.”

  “Gold?”

  “Why not …”

  “Does Mom know?”

  “They’re my boots, Kenny. Why should Mom care if I had to paint them to match my sword?”

  “Speaking of swords …” Kenny began.

  “We were not speaking of swords,” I told him. “We were speaking about my flenser suit!”

  “Yeah … well, if I were you I’d wear a sign telling people what you are … because I don’t think anybody’s going to know otherwise.”

  “Oh Kenny … you are so dumb! Of course they’ll know. Just look at my hat … can’t you see all the pictures of whales up there?”

  “They’re dolphins,” Kenny said.

  “Only you would know that!”

  “And speaking of dolphins,” Kenny said.

  “Never mind … never mind! I don’t want to hear it.”

  Later, I made a sign saying FLENSER, just in case Kenny was right. I punched two holes through it, ran a string across and hung it around my neck.

  The next morning my mother was surprised when she saw my boots. “They’re gold!” Mom said in a very loud voice. She puffed hard on her cigarette.

  “Smoking causes cancer and heart disease,” I told her, ignoring my boots.

  Mom mashed her cigarette out and reached for her coffee. “What did you do to your new boots, Jill?”

  “I painted them.”

  “Jill … they have to last you all winter. You haven’t even worn them yet.”

  “I know it, Mother!”

  “Well … how could you do such a thing?”

  “A flenser wouldn’t wear plain brown boots.”

  “I just hope you used washable paint.”

  “I think I did.”

  “You checked first, didn’t you?”

  “I’m almost sure it’s washable.”

  “You didn’t check before you used it?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Mom lit another cigarette.

  I called for Tracy. She was in her Big Bird costume and her mother was adjusting a crown of feathers on her head. “How do you like it?” she asked, twirling around.

  “Oh, Tracy … you look fantastic!” Next to her I felt very plain.

  Tracy looked me over. “What’s a flenser?” she asked, reading my sign.

  “That’s what I’m supposed to be,” I told her.

  “I know … but what is one?”

  “Oh … a flenser’s a guy who strips the blubber off whales.”

  “Where’d you get such a weird idea?” Tracy asked.

  “From Linda Fischer … you know … the one Wendy calls Blubber. She gave a report on whales.”

  “Well,” Tracy said, “at least you don’t have to worry that everyone will be dressed like you.” She went to the mirror and combed her hair. She has the nicest hair I’ve ever seen. It hangs straight down her back. She can even sit on it. And it never looks dirty or has tangles. I’m growing mine but no matter how long it gets it will never look like Tracy’s.

  Mrs. Wu drove us to school so Tracy wouldn’t mess up her costume. When I got to my class Wendy was already there. She was dressed like a queen. She wore a very high crown with lots of fake emeralds and rubies pasted to it. She also wore her mother’s long bathrobe and had this crazy looking fur thing wrapped around her neck. It had eyes, paws, a tail and everything.

  “Animals are for loving, not wearing,” I told her.

  “I know it,” Wendy said, “but this thing is very old. It belonged to my grandmother. And in those days they didn’t know about ecology.”

  “Oh …” I said. “Then I guess it’s all right.”

  Donna Davidson really fooled me. Instead of dressing up like a horse, this year she was a jockey. “My things are all genuine,” she bragged. “My father knows this jockey who’s very famous and he’s just my size and these are his real life jockey clothes.”

  Donna looked pretty good, but I didn’t tell her I thought so. And I wasn’t worried about winning the prize for most original costume because a flenser is a lot more clever than a jockey or a queen with a tall crown. Practically everyone else in our class was dressed like a bum, with old baggy pants and shirts hanging out and charcoal smudges on their faces. Caroline even carried a stick with a pouch tied on one end. There is nothing very original about dressing up like that.

  Right after Mrs. Minish took the attendance she told us to line up for the Halloween assembly. “Remember, no talking in the halls or the auditorium.”

  I stood on line between Wendy and Linda, who was wearing a long, red cape. As we walked down the hall Linda tapped me and said, “What are you supposed to be?”

  “Can’t you read?” I asked, holding up my sign.

  “Oh … a flenser. I’ll bet you got that idea from my report.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “Jill Brenner!” Mrs. Minish snapped. “I said no talking!”

  In the auditorium our class sat in the third and fourth rows. I whispered to Linda, “What are you supposed to be?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Don’t you know?”

  “I know.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “No … it’s my own business.”

  “I’ll bet you’re supposed to be Little Red Riding Hood.”

  “I am not.”

  I turned to Wendy. “Get a load of Little Red Riding Hood,” I said.

  Wendy leaned across me and told Linda, “You better watch out for the Big Bad Wolf!”

  “Yeah …” I said, “you better …” I felt a hand on my head. I turned around in my seat. It was Mrs. Minish.

  “If I have to speak to you again you’ll go back to the classroom.”

  I didn’t say a word during the Pledge of Allegiance or “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Linda sang in a very loud voice and when I looked at her I could see her gray tooth. Wendy says if she isn’t more careful about the way she brushes all her teeth will turn gray and rotten and fall out.

  The Halloween Parade was next. Every class had a turn to march across the stage. The costume judges all sat in the first row. They were mothers from the P.-T.A. It’s against the rules for them to vote for their own kids.

  I watched carefully as the other classes had their turns. I pretended to be a judge. Only two sixth-graders were dressed as anything besides bums. Jerry Pochuk was a doctor and Fred Yarmouth was something I couldn’t figure out. I certainly didn’t see any costumes as original as mine or any that were prettier than Tracy’s.

  After the parade Mrs. Runyon, the librarian, stood on the stage and said, “I’m happy to be here today to present the prizes for the most beautiful and the most original costumes.”

  I sat on my hands to keep from chewing my nails.

  “But before I do, I want to share with you the fine prizes the P.-T.A. has selected and donated.” Mrs. Runyon held up two paperback books. They both had medals printed on the covers. I read them last year. One wasn’t too bad but the other was so boring I never got past the first chapter. Still, it wasn’t the prize that mattered. It was the idea of winning.

  “And now … for our winner …” Mrs. Runyon said. “For the most beautiful costume … Tracy Wu, the Big Bird!”

  Everyone clapped as Tracy ran to the stage, dripping yellow feathers all over the aisle. She got the boring book.

  “And now … for the most original costume of the day …”

  I sat up in my seat.

  “To Fred Yarmouth, the fried egg,” Mrs. Runyon called.

  I couldn’t believe it! I was so sure the prize would be mine. And how did the judges know Fred was supposed to be a fried egg when I had no idea what he was?

  Fred ran to the stage. Mrs. Runyon said, “Tell us, Fred, how did you decide to be a fried egg?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Fred said. “I had this white
sheet and some yellow felt and when I put it all together that’s what it looked like to me.”

  He hadn’t even planned to be an egg. That made everything worse. Now I’d be stuck wearing gold boots for the rest of the year—and all for nothing.

  4

  “What’s the magic word?”

  We were back in our classroom at ten-thirty and Mrs. Minish said we’d work on math and science until lunchtime. I tried to concentrate on my math but when Mrs. Minish asked to see my paper she drew red lines across every problem.

  “They’re all wrong?” I asked.

  “Not the answers,” Mrs. Minish said.

  “Then what?”

  “You didn’t set up the problems properly.”

  “But if I got the right answers what’s the difference?”

  “Your equations are backwards. You’ll have to do the paper over.”

  “I don’t see why,” I told her.

  “Because you’re supposed to be learning how to think the problems through and you aren’t thinking the right way.”

  “Isn’t there more than one way to think?”

  “Really Jill … I don’t care for this talking back!”

  “But Mrs. Minish …”

  “No buts,” Mrs. Minish said. “Take it home and do it over.”

  Before lunch Mrs. Minish excused us to go to the Girls’ and Boys’ Rooms. I took my sword with me. I was afraid if I left it at my desk Robby Winters might get his hands on it and ruin it. And I needed it for later, to go Trick-or-Treating for Unicef.

  “Mrs. Minish is such a bitch!” I said to Wendy and Caroline, as we stood by the sinks in the Girls’ Room. “She marked all my math problems wrong.”

  “I got a hundred,” Caroline said.

  “That’s because I let you copy off me,” Wendy told her.

  “Not that my morning wasn’t already ruined,” I said. “I still can’t believe they gave that smelly fried-egg costume the prize.”

  “Yeah,” Wendy said. “My costume was much more original than that.”

  Caroline said, “Personally, I thought Donna Davidson would win. Her things were all genuine.”

  “There’s nothing original about being a jockey,” I said. “Being a flenser is original but those judges were too dumb to know it.”