My Life in the Fish Tank Page 8

  Mom closed her eyes.

  Oh.

  Why had I said that? Reminded her about Gabriel, back when he was okay?

  We were having such a nice time together, not thinking about him for a few minutes.

  Why did I spoil it?

  I patted the soil, like that would change anything.

  But a few seconds later, Mom was smiling at me.

  “Yes, Zinny, of course I remember,” she said.

  Sunday Night at Nine Forty-Five P.M.

  I tiptoed into Aiden’s room and slipped a note into his backpack:

  What to Do If Your Submarine Is on Fire

  What to Do If a Very Large Dog Sneezes a Giant Wad of Dog Snot in Your Face and You Have No

  Tissue and You’re Completely Naked So You Can’t Even Rub It Off with Your Sleeve

  What to Do If the Door Opens When You’re in an Elevator and a Giant Expanding Marshmallow Walks In and Starts Pushing All the Buttons

  What to Do If You Get to School and Sit on a Wad of Gum, Then Realize You Forgot to Wear Pants

  What to Do When You’re Shipwrecked on a Desert Island All by Yourself and You Have a Really Stupid Song Stuck in Your Head

  I knew these wouldn’t help him pick a topic. But picturing the look on his face when he reached into his backpack tomorrow morning and found this dumb list made me smile.

  Monday Morning

  Maisie and Kailani never showed up at my front door that Monday, so I walked to school on my own.

  And the whole way there I told myself:

  So what if you aren’t friends anymore.

  That friendship was nothing but an

  endless fight, anyway.

  “We care about your feelings.”

  No, they don’t. Not really.

  Because if they did care, they’d care

  about all my feelings,

  Not just the worried ones about

  Gabriel.

  They’d want to hear other stuff too,

  Other things that are just as real:

  Like the dumb names I gave to my

  Barbies,

  Why I like science class so much,

  Why I’m truthfully so excited about

  getting crayfish.

  How nice it was planting herbs with

  Mom,

  How good it felt to put that note in

  Aiden’s backpack,

  Knowing it would make him giggle.

  And they’d let me be quiet when I feel

  like being quiet

  And just want to be at school, going

  to classes,

  Or thinking about herbs

  Or crayfish,

  Or how maybe all I want is a slice of

  pizza.

  Homeroom That Morning

  ME: Um, hi.

  KAILANI: Hi, Zinny.

  MAISIE:

  ME: You guys didn’t show up this morning.

  KAILANI: Yeah, sorry! It was raining, so my mom gave us a ride.

  ME: Oh. (Thinking: It was raining on me, too. And didn’t your mom say she wanted to drive me places?)

  MAISIE:

  KAILANI: See you later, okay?

  ME: Yeah. Okay. See you.

  Monday, Lunch Period

  “Zinny! Just the person I was waiting for!” Ms. Molina greeted me.

  It wasn’t the very beginning of lunch period, because this time I’d gone to the cafeteria first so that Ms. Molina wouldn’t give me her sandwich again. And I’d gobbled my Swiss-cheese-and-veggie wrap on the way upstairs to the science lab.

  Ms. Molina was in her classroom, standing in front of six empty fish tanks.

  “They’re here?” I squealed. “The crayfish?”

  “Tomorrow,” she replied, smiling. “They need to travel carefully. And we need to have everything ready before they get here. Help me with the setup?”

  I almost danced.

  We spent the next thirty-five minutes assembling the air bubblers and filters. Ms. Molina said the lab was too sunny for the tanks; crayfish liked darker rooms, so while they were with us, we’d keep them in the classroom with the blinds closed. Also, she said, crayfish needed sand to dig in, and places to hide, so we lined the bottom of each tank with sand, then set up a miniature playscape: tipped-over plastic castles, hollowed-out rocks, gerbil pipes, three-sided containers, and fake plants (because they’d eat any real ones).

  Gabriel would love this, I thought. Teeny-tiny Crayfish World!

  So many funny little details. But no little bitty pincer dryers.

  And no French Revolution bathroom chair.

  The bell rang, and kids started walking into the classroom. As soon as they saw the tanks, they got excited.

  “Where are they?” Aspen demanded. “I want to meet mine!”

  Hers? Wait. There were only seven tanks.

  “How many crayfish in a tank?” I asked.

  “Just one,” Ms. Molina replied. “Crayfish aren’t particularly fond of company.”

  Li-Mei frowned. “What about humans? Does that mean they’ll attack us?”

  “They’ll pinch only if they feel vulnerable. They also do a maneuver called a tail flip, where they escape by flipping their abdomen and swimming backward, pushing mud toward the attacker. So we need to handle them gently and respectfully, avoiding the eyes and tail.”

  My heart was sinking a little. There were twenty-four kids in the class, and only seven tanks—so that meant four kids to a tank, with the seventh tank for Ms. Molina’s crayfish. For some reason, I’d had this vision of my own private crayfish in my own private tank. But that wasn’t practical, obviously.

  And before I knew it was happening, Ms. Molina was announcing “tank teams.”

  I was with Aspen, Darius, and (bleh) James Ramos.

  Which almost spoiled the whole thing right there.

  Until the bell rang, and Ms. Molina came over to my desk. “See you at lunch tomorrow, Zinny?” she asked. “I’ll need an assistant to help when the crayfish arrive.”

  I beamed my answer.

  Monday, after School

  ME: So? Did you like my note?

  AIDEN: Yeah. But those aren’t real topics, Zinny.

  ME: Of course not! They weren’t supposed to be, Aidy! They were jokes!

  AIDEN: Oh. Well, thank you.

  ME: You’re welcome! Did you think they were funny?

  AIDEN: I guess.

  ME: Well, they were! They were hilarious, Aiden! And did you think of any others? Something really dumb and silly—

  AIDEN (shakes head): I need to think of a real topic, not jokes. Some kids are finished with their reports already.

  ME: (sighs)

  AIDEN: Okay, but whyyyy did that giant marshmallow push all the buttons in the elevator?

  Monday Dinner

  That evening, Mom made dinner. Nothing fancy, just cheeseburgers, mashed potatoes, and string beans. But it was the first regular family dinner she’d made in weeks, and even Dad was home early enough to join us. And between Dad sitting with us again, and the crayfish, and the way Ms. Molina had invited me to be her assistant—I was so excited I couldn’t shut up.

  “You know how to tell a male crayfish from a female one?” I asked. I’d spent all afternoon doing online research, so I was gushing with facts.

  Scarlett snorted. “The male crayfish explains to the female how to swim?”

  Mom smiled. I peeked at Dad; he was smiling too. His real smile this time.

  I grinned at my sister. “No, it’s that the females have longer leg-thingies. ‘Swimmerets.’ And speaking of swimming,” I continued, “you know what’s funny? Crayfish walk forward, but they move backward only when swimming.”

  “Whoa, fascinating,” Scarlett said, arranging the lettuce on her cheeseburger. “I’m just, like, totally mesmerized, Zinnia.”

  “Scarlett,” Dad said. Still smiling, though. “No need.”

  I turned to Aiden. “And want to hear something incredibly cool? Crayfish eyes move i
ndependently!”

  “I already knew that,” Aiden said, chewing.

  “You did?”

  “Uh-huh. So do mantis-shrimp eyes, but they have better vision. And they have blades that can cut the human finger. In seconds!”

  “Seriously?”

  He nodded. “Hey, Zinny, know what else is true? Piranhas can skeletonize an entire cow in under a minute.”

  “Okay, enough,” Mom said in her teacher voice. “Can we please try a more pleasant topic at the table?”

  “Thank you,” Scarlett said.

  “Sure.” I shrugged. “Although in my opinion, crustaceans are extremely pleasant.”

  “Except when they pinch people,” Aiden said.

  “Ms. Molina says crayfish won’t pinch if they’re handled properly. She says they defend themselves by using their pincers. And escape by retreating while pushing mud toward their attackers.”

  “Nevertheless,” Dad said. “Not supper talk, Zin.”

  “Okay.” I wasn’t even hurt that Dad had spoken sharply to me. It just felt good to have him so… there.

  No one said anything as we all ate cheeseburgers. I was suddenly super aware that the five of us hadn’t eaten together in a long time. It was like we were out of practice, shy with one another, or just awkward. All right, what was there for us to chat about? We needed a conversation starter fast.

  And then Mom beat me to it.

  “So,” she said, “next weekend we’re planning another family trip to see Gabriel. Dad and I were thinking of a different motel—”

  “I’m not going,” Scarlett announced, pushing away her plate.

  Mom put down her fork. “Why not?”

  “Because I already have plans with my friends. Not everything in my life is about Gabriel, you know.”

  Right away I could tell Scarlett realized how mean that sounded, because her face got red, and she spoke really fast. “Anyhow, I think Gabriel felt weird about the whole family being there last time, like we all drove there just to stare at him. The whole thing was incredibly depressing, and I just want to see him when he’s normal.”

  “We all do, Scarlett,” Dad said. He was quiet for a second. “But right now he isn’t. And he needs us there.”

  “To do what? Sit in a creepy room and play Scrabble?”

  “Zinny and I played Ping-Pong,” Aiden reminded her. I popped my eyes at him like Not the point, okay?

  “Actually, Scarlett,” Mom said, ignoring Aiden, “we were thinking this time you could join us for some family therapy with the social worker.”

  “Oh, forget that,” Scarlett exploded. “I’m already doing enough talking with Elyse. Can Gabriel’s mental problems please not take up my entire existence?”

  Mom and Dad traded a long look.

  Dad sighed. Then he said, “Okay, but we’re not leaving you here alone for the weekend.”

  “No problem,” Scarlett said quickly. “I’ll stay over at Jamilla’s. Her mom said I could anytime.”

  Jamilla’s mom ran the PTA at Scarlett’s high school. And seemed to be in charge of everything else in town too.

  Something crossed my mind then.

  “You told Jamilla’s mom about Gabriel?” I asked Scarlett. “And Redwoods Village?”

  “Why not? I’m not ashamed of it, Zinny. Are you?” She cocked her head at me and blinked.

  “No! Of course not, Scarlett!” I could feel my cheeks burning as I thought about Maisie and Kailani. “But I thought we were all supposed to keep it private—”

  “That’s right, we are.” Mom gave Scarlett a worried look. Then she sighed and patted my hand. “I just think we all need to be careful about who we talk to, and what we say. Not because we’re ashamed, which we aren’t, but because it isn’t anyone’s business.”

  “It’s just what’s best for Gabriel,” Dad added. Although he seemed a little less sure than Mom, I thought.

  The other thing I thought was: So how come Mom added all that stuff when she talked to Rudy’s mom—saying Gabriel was “working hard” “back in college?” Maybe we shouldn’t overshare private details, especially with people we didn’t trust (like Rudy’s mom, for example). But why make up a totally fake story?

  That just seemed wrong to me. And unfair to Gabriel.

  “I want to see him!” Aiden wailed.

  “You will, baby,” Mom said. “And so will Zinny.” She smiled at me with round, serious eyes.

  And I thought how if Scarlett wasn’t going, someone would have to stay with Aiden in the indoor recreation center while Mom and Dad did their therapy stuff with Gabriel. So basically I had no choice.

  Also, I wondered if Scarlett was right: maybe Gabriel didn’t want us all there. But maybe he did.

  “Yep, I’m coming too,” I told my little brother. “And this time prepare to be annihilated at Ping-Pong.”

  Tuesday

  The next morning I didn’t bother to wait for Maisie and Kailani. Nothing had happened since yesterday to make me believe they would show up to walk me to school. Besides, the thought of standing on my front step in the windy rain, searching down the block for their umbrellas, was too upsetting.

  And it turned out I was right not to expect anything. Because when I got to homeroom, Kailani just gave me a little finger wave. Maisie didn’t even look up; she whispered something to Kailani, who shrugged.

  So that was that, I told myself. It was obvious my friends weren’t my friends anymore. They were mad because I wasn’t acting the way they thought I should—confiding in them, being all weepy in the lunchroom—as if there were one right way to act when your brother went crazy and your family made you keep it a secret. And I was mad at them for being mad at me.

  Sometimes the bottom step fell out, and everything changed all of a sudden.

  There was nothing you could do when this happened, really.

  I used to not know about stuff like this. But now I did.

  * * *

  After an endless morning, the bell finally rang for lunch. Just as I was turning the corner to race upstairs to Ms. Molina’s classroom, I almost smacked into Jayden.

  “Hey,” he said loudly. Then he grinned. “So, will we see you tomorrow?”

  Maybe because I was so focused on Ms. Molina and the crayfish, for a second I had no idea what he was talking about.

  Also, seeing Jayden’s extreme cuteness so close up kind of startled me.

  “See me where?” I said.

  “You know. Gladys.”

  “What?” I stared at him.

  “Ralph,” he explained. “But this week it’s Gladys.”

  “Oh,” I said, beginning to realize he was talking about Lunch Club. “I thought it was just Luz who called it that.”

  “No, I do too. Lunch Club sucks as a name, right? And there isn’t really a word for what we do there, so.” He shrugged. “Gladys.”

  Two very tall, very pretty eighth-grade girls called out, “Hi, Jayden!” He waved at them, and they both started giggling.

  “Okay?” he said, his dark eyes looking right into mine. “You’ll be there, Zinny?”

  “I’m not really sure.” I wasn’t prepared for this decision; plus, eye contact with this boy was making my brain scamper in all directions. “I mean, I kind of promised to help my science teacher—”

  “Aw, you can do that anytime. Gladys is just one lunch a week, you know? It’s special. And anyhow, Luz needs to reveal the secret handshake.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

  He smiled. “Don’t think, Umzinnia. Just show up. Besides, it’s really good pizza.”

  A Few Minutes Later

  Ms. Molina was standing in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips. At her feet were three big coolers, bags of vegetables, and several boxes labeled SHRIMP PELLETS.

  She didn’t even greet me. “Okay, Zinny,” she said, “let’s get to work. Since we’ve already lined the tanks with sand, now we’ll add the water and do some testing. The
crayfish need a perfectly neutral environment—”

  “They’re in those coolers?”

  “Yes, in plastic bins. But I’m sure they’re ready to explore their new digs!”

  She showed me how to test the water, make sure all the air bubblers were working, and seal the filters with aluminum foil to keep the crayfish from escaping.

  “This is critically important,” she said. “Crayfish are explorers. And if they get out of their tanks to wander, they can dehydrate in just a few hours.”

  I thought about that. You’d think crayfish would know they shouldn’t leave their perfect water, that they’d have some sort of survival instinct about that, or something.

  Maybe they thought the stay-in-the-fish-tank rule didn’t apply to them.

  Really, it seemed like such a human mistake to make.

  * * *

  By the start of class, each crayfish was in a separate tank—six for the class, one for Ms. Molina. My team got the tank with the sideways castle, the plastic palm tree, and the hollowed-out rock.

  “Omigosh, our crayfish is like a baby lobster,” Aspen crooned. “It’s so, so cute!”

  “It’s not a baby anything,” I said. “It’s fully grown.”

  “Is it a boy or a girl?”

  “Any guesses?” Ms. Molina asked. She carefully lifted our crayfish from the tank.

  “It’s a male,” I blurted. “I looked up crayfish online. Female swimmerets are longer.”

  Ms. Molina beamed at me.

  “What are swimmerets?” Li-Mei asked. She made a face like she didn’t believe that was even a real word.

  Ms. Molina held up the crayfish. “See those thin, spiny legs below the real legs? In males, they’re white-tipped and lie between the last pair of walking legs. Female swimmerets are longer and softer, for holding eggs. So I agree with Zinny—I think you guys have a male.”