One-Third Nerd Page 5

  “Bigfoot?” Moses asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “You ever see him?”

  I shake my head. Everybody always asks this. I mean, I’ve never seen a dinosaur either, but I know they existed because there are bones. We don’t exactly have bones of Bigfoot, but still.

  “Do you think he’s related to the two-legged bear?” Moses asks.

  “What two-legged bear?”

  “You haven’t seen the two-legged bear?” Moses whips out his phone. He has a brand-new smartphone. I have the only stupid phone left in the universe. “You have to see this.” He types in something, and then hands the phone to me. Dodge, Moses, and a few other kids crowd around.

  There he is…a real, live, normal bear—not a man in a bear suit—walking on two legs like a man. Even his posture looks like a man’s. But he’s a bear.

  The more times we watch, the more sure we become that this bear is for real.

  “Can I see your Bigfoot things?” Moses asks.

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve seen you out walking,” Moses says. “You live near my aunt.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” I try to smile but my lips bend the wrong way.

  “Can I come over sometime?” Moses asks.

  “Uhhh, well, I’ll bring it all to school.” The last thing I want is for Moses to come to my basement apartment with the rickety stairs and the broken screens and the rusted-out washing machine. Who has a washing machine in their yard?

  I’m betting Moses has one mom and one dad who both live together in one house with a garage and a garage door and a yard with trees and leaves. They probably have a leaf blower and a garage-door opener and maybe even a tennis court.

  I think back to when we had a house. I wonder who lives in our house now? Whoever he is…I hate him.

  * * *

  Dodge and I are just finishing lunch when Mom texts me.

  * * *

  —

  Tell Dakota to stay after school for the maker fair meeting and please go with her. Pick you up at 4. I owe you…fried rice?

  I have to go with her to a meeting for third graders? I can hardly wait.

  When Dodge and I find Dakota and I tell her what Mom texted, she nods. “Mom wants me to find other kids like me.”

  “There are no kids like you.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She grins.

  “Maybe if you could be a little less nerdy.”

  “I like my whole nerdiness.” She hugs herself. “You’re only one-third nerd.” She shakes her head. “It’s not enough.”

  I roll my eyes. Then I look hopefully at Dodge. “You want to come?”

  Dodge smiles like I offered him chocolate cake. The good kind. No beets.

  I swear I could invite Dodge over for one of Dad’s insurance talks and he’d be happy about it. He is a great friend.

  We are headed for Dakota’s third-grade classroom when Moses calls to us.

  “Hey, where you guys going?”

  “Nowhere, um, important,” I say.

  “To my classroom. Want to come?” Dakota asks.

  “Sure,” he says.

  “You’re Moses, right?” she says. “My brother is always talking about you.”

  My cheeks get hot. Why does she do this to me?

  We slip in the door of room 23. Dakota already has her hand raised and she’s whipping it all around. Mrs. Johnson is rattling off the rules. Mr. Gupta is sitting quietly, the tips of his fingers together.

  He’s here too? He doesn’t teach third graders.

  Dodge swoops by the cookie table, and then he joins Moses, me, and Dakota in the back row with six molasses cookies with frosting hard as asphalt and homemade M&M’s-covered brownies. We are busy stuffing our faces when Mrs. Johnson tells Dakota, “We’ll take questions later.”

  Dakota’s arm drops like a boulder.

  A second later it shoots up again.

  “Dakota,” Mrs. Johnson sighs.

  “You didn’t say how much later.”

  The only other people raising hands are parents. A dad in a business suit with a clump of hair growing from his chin and two pierced ears has a question about who the judges will be. Mrs. Johnson is careful to avoid eye contact with Dakota and her windmill arm, which isn’t easy.

  A mom with dreadlocks and big red glasses says, “I think there’s a child with a question.” She points to Dakota, who pops out of her seat.

  “Are we eligible for other prizes besides the maker fair prizes?”

  “Other prizes?” Mrs. Johnson asks.

  “Scholarships or things with money,” Dakota answers. “My dad says I need money to go to college. And we need money for our dog.”

  I slink down in my chair. Now Mr. Gupta—not to mention Moses—is going to know we have money problems.

  “No scholarships.” Mrs. Johnson’s smile looks stiff. She points to another parent with his hand raised.

  Dakota’s arm pops up again. “What about prize money?”

  “The winner of our maker fair award will represent Red Horse Elementary in a county-wide competition. Whoever wins that will receive five hundred dollars.”

  Dakota grins.

  “Dakota, do you have a parent with you today?” Mrs. Johnson looks out hopefully at the grown-ups.

  “Just my brother, Liam—” Dakota points at me.

  My hand is low, barely off my lap. I wave, lamely wishing for spray-on invisibility. Apply once and Dakota disappears for the entire school day. Why isn’t Mom or Dad here?

  I glance sideways at Moses.

  “And my friend Dodge. And that’s Moses.” Dakota points to Dodge, who has a brownie in his mouth, then to Moses.

  “Ahh…well, perhaps your brother will see me once we’re done with the questions here.”

  There is not enough fried rice in the world for this.

  “How about five thousand dollars,” Dakota says.

  “Excuse me?” Mrs. Johnson asks.

  “Forgive me, Mrs. Johnson,” Mr. Gupta says, “but I may be able to help Dakota. She is always thinking. This is a good quality in a third grader.”

  Mrs. Johnson smiles at Mr. Gupta like he has just offered her a trip to Hawaii.

  “Dakota Rose. Perhaps you will want to work with another student on your maker fair entry,” Mr. Gupta says.

  “No thank you,” Dakota says. “I don’t want to share the prize money.”

  What is the matter with her? Why can’t she just say yes? I steal a look at Moses.

  “Ahh,” Mr. Gupta says. “I had thought you were interested in being a scientist.”

  “I am a scientist.”

  “Scientists work in teams. Do you know why you have two eyes, Dakota?”

  “The other is a spare like my mom has an extra tire in the trunk.”

  All the parents laugh. I slink down lower in my seat.

  “Yes, though there is another reason.” His pointer finger sticks up in the air. “You cannot perceive depth, Dakota Rose, with just one eye. Two is not just double one; it enables you to see in an entirely new way.”

  Dakota’s never been on a team. She doesn’t know a team is way stronger than a bunch of people together.

  “Just consider it.” Mr. Gupta points to his temple. “And bring me your ideas tomorrow in PE class and we will plan.”

  Bring him her ideas? Why doesn’t he say bring Mrs. Johnson her ideas? Dakota better not take over Mr. Gupta too.

  But after the meeting, Mr. Gupta doesn’t talk to Dakota; he talks to Moses, Dodge, and me. “Have you been practicing your sprints and your serve toss?”

  We nod.

  “Keep your elbow straight. The ball must go to that one spot. You must picture in your mind the spot.”

  “Yes, sir,” we say. But now I
see Mrs. Johnson watching me.

  “Hello, Dakota’s brother,” she says. “Liam, right?”

  I nod, my face getting hot.

  She smiles warmly at me. “Must be challenging.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Your parents are coming to Back-to-School Night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell them to come talk to me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Nice to meet you, Liam. I appreciate your coming along with your sister today. Mr. Gupta speaks highly of you.”

  Mr. Gupta talks about me in the teachers’ lounge?

  “Please tell your mother we all really like Dakota. We’re just hoping she can learn to take it down a notch.”

  I nod. “Dakota wears you out.”

  Mrs. Johnson laughs. “Yes, she does.”

  But all I can think about is: Mr. Gupta speaks highly of me!

  Today Mom takes Izzy to speech therapy and Dad takes her to the eye doctor, so Crash is at our house when we get there. Crash has a slow walk and a calm way about him. The only thing that isn’t calm is the crazy hair growing out of his ears, as if whatever he’s hearing has gotten his hair all upset.

  “Everything okay with Izzy?” Crash asks.

  “They’re picking up her new glasses,” I say.

  “I thought your mom wasn’t sure she needed them.”

  “She got a second opinion.”

  “Hope Izzy keeps track of them better than I do. I’m thinking of getting one of those pearly chains like the ladies wear. Be the talk of the station.” He grins.

  “Hey, Crash,” I say. “How much does it cost to buy a house?”

  He squints at me. “You in the market?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Crash nods. I can tell he knows what I’m thinking. I still kind of hope my parents will get back together again. Dad doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore and Mom doesn’t have a boyfriend, so now is the time.

  “Only couple I know got remarried…it didn’t turn out well,” Crash says.

  “Was it a homicide?” I ask.

  He laughs. “No, nothing like that.”

  “My parents love each other,” I announce.

  “Doesn’t mean they can live together.”

  “Why not?”

  Crash shrugs. “People got to work things out their own way. Our job is to let them.”

  “Maybe they just haven’t thought of it.”

  Crash picks up a plate of cookies and offers me one. “Somehow, Liam, I don’t think that’s it.”

  I look at the cookies. “What kind?”

  “Chocolate and chili powder.”

  “Crash…,” Dodge groans, shaking his head as we go to my room.

  “Trying something new. Don’t want to get set in my ways,” he calls after us.

  Once my door is closed, Dakota and I hand our cookies to Dodge. Then Dodge plops down in the chair in front of the Xbox.

  “Hey, Dodge, how come you live with your grandpa anyway? Where’s your mom?” Dakota asks.

  “SHUT UP, Dakota!” I say.

  Dodge shoves two cookies in his mouth. “She’s fishing.”

  Dakota cocks her head. “What about at night? She couldn’t be fishing at night!”

  Dodge wipes the crumbs off his mouth. “I don’t know.”

  “How could you not know?” Dakota asks.

  I step on Dakota’s toe and give it a good grind. She clamps her mouth shut.

  If Roger Federer had Dakota as a sister, he’d never win another match.

  Dakota marches out to Crash.

  “Where is Dodge’s mom?”

  “Oh no!” I plunk down on the bed.

  “That is not your business, Dakota,” Crash says.

  “It is so. Dodge is my friend.”

  “Some things you have to let people tell you in their own time. Friendship is a gentle thing. More like catching a bird then forcing a stuck drawer closed.”

  Dakota’s lower lip puckers out.

  “Oh, Dakota.” He folds her into a big hug.

  Now she’s back in my room. She smiles at Dodge and that’s the end of it.

  I open the closet door and feel around the top shelf, which is where I keep my Bigfoot stuff. I want to put it in my backpack so I don’t forget to take it to school to show Moses tomorrow. But I can’t reach any of it, so I roll my desk chair over to the closet and climb on. I can’t wait until I’m tall enough to reach without the chair.

  Cans of old tennis balls, wadded-up gym shorts, a flat basketball, an old jar with my baby teeth and website passwords are up there, but no Bigfoot stuff.

  “Dakota, have you seen my Bigfoot things—my mug and photo and pencil?”

  Dakota and Dodge are both focused on the Xbox now. Dakota nods.

  “Where are they?”

  “Gone,” she mumbles.

  “Gone? Gone where?”

  “Alabama.”

  “What?”

  Dakota scratches her head. “We all had to make a contribution. You know, for Cupcake.”

  “What’s that have to do with Bigfoot?”

  “I sold everything on eBay. We made thirty dollars on it. I never thought we’d get that much for your stupid old Bigfoot stuff.” She beams.

  “You didn’t ask me! You can’t sell my things.”

  “But you love Cupcake. And anyway, scientists don’t believe in Bigfoot. How come there aren’t two footprints, or four, or ten? They always find one. Nobody walks around with just one foot. Have you tried it?” She hops around my room. “It doesn’t work.”

  I cross my arms and stare at her. “Izzy and I like Bigfoot. We don’t care what you think.”

  “I thought you’d be happy. Don’t you care about Cupcake?” She sighs. Then she hops over to cardboard Roger Federer and taps his chest. “I was going to sell Roger but I didn’t think he’d fold down small enough to get in the box.”

  “Don’t touch Roger!” I shout, and Cupcake comes running to see what the excitement is all about.

  Dodge can’t concentrate on the Xbox anymore. He looks down at his shoes. Cupcake stands between us, shaking.

  “Why didn’t you sell your own stuff?” I ask.

  “I did. I sold my purple sequin slippers and Izzy’s horse collection.”

  “No!” I gasp. “You didn’t sell Izzy’s horses!”

  “It’s not for me. It’s for Cupcake.” Dakota runs her hands along Cupcake’s trembling spine.

  “Stealing is stealing no matter who it’s for.”

  “Yeah, well, what are you doing for her? Nothing.”

  “I haven’t exactly worked it all out yet.”

  “I got forty-three bucks altogether. Don’t you even care about that?”

  “Izzy loves her horses.”

  “She loves Cupcake more.”

  I stare at the wall. There’s a big, empty white square where my Bigfoot poster used to be.

  “My poster too?”

  “I only got fifty cents for that.” She shakes her finger at me. “You should take better care of your stuff. One of the corners was ripped.”

  “Dakota…” I open the door, drag her out, and slam it shut.

  * * *

  When Dad drops Izzy off, our mom still isn’t home.

  “Izzy,” I say. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  Izzy nods and follows me into my room. I close the door.

  She scoots onto the bed until her striped-sock legs are dangling over the edge. She fixes me with her big blue eyes.

  “This is about Bigfoot,” I tell her. “All the Bigfoot stuff is gone.”

  Izzy looks at the place on my wall where the poster used to be. I go on. “Dakota sold all the stuff to get money for Cu
pcake to go to the vet.”

  “Big Foo coming home?” Izzy asks.

  I shake my head. “No. But I have something to show you.”

  I run out to the living room to get the laptop. Dodge is in the kitchen talking to Crash. “Hot dogs?” Crash suggests.

  “Could we have ketchup this time instead of jelly?” Dodge asks.

  Dakota sticks her head in the door. “What are you and Izzy doing in there?”

  “None of your business.”

  “We’re supposed to be saving Cupcake. Now that I made forty-three dollars, I am going to win the all-county maker fair prize, which is five hundred dollars. I’m going to build an auto-animal-tronic pigeon that picks up trash and puts it in the trash can.”

  “I can hardly wait. Get out of my room.”

  “What color should I make it?”

  “I don’t care. Get out of my room!”

  “Don’t you want to hear my other ideas?”

  “No!” I shout.

  “Yes,” Izzy says.

  “I’m going to invent an umbrella that will hover over your head so you don’t have to hold it,” Dakota tells her.

  I close the door in her face and then scoot onto the bed next to Izzy and Dodge. We click on the video of the two-legged bear in the news clip: Walking Bear in the Neighborhood.

  And there he is, a bear walking like a human. His knees stick out a little when he walks, but otherwise he really is a bear.

  “Is he real?” Izzy asks.

  “Yep. Something happened to his front paws, so he walks upright.”

  “Will he come to our house?” Izzy wants to know.

  “We don’t have a lot of bears around here.”

  We watch the clip over and over, and every time, we laugh.

  I don’t tell her about the horses. I can’t give her that much bad news all at once.

  Tonight is guys’ night, which always puts Dakota in a bad mood. She says there are more guys’ nights out than girls’ nights out. That’s not true. There are exactly the same number. But on girls’ night Dakota has to share Dad with Izzy. He does other things with them separately, but girls’ night is for both of them. Guys’ night is just for me.