Нил Шустерман - Antsy Does Time

“He doesn’t have a right to be messed up until he takes care of the messes he’s already made.”

I didn’t know how to answer that, so instead I answered his original question.

“I’m going to give a speech about Pulmonary Monoxic Systemia, and thank everyone for their time donations. I’m going to say decent things about you. Then I’m going to call you up to the podium.”

“Me?”

“It’s your life. That thermometer’s measuring years for you. You’re the one who has to thank people—make them feel good about what they’ve done.”

Gunnar couldn’t look at me. He looked down, tapped the edge of my locker door with his foot. Then he said, “Dr. G isn’t always wrong.”

“Well... I hope he’s wrong this time, because as screwed up as this whole thing is, I don’t want you to die.”

The bell rang, but Gunnar didn’t leave yet. He hung around for a good ten seconds, then said, “Thanks, Antsy,” and hurried off to class.

The rally was at six, on account of it couldn’t interfere with class instruction or sports—but since it was approved by the district superintendent, who was up-and-coming in her political career, it was taken very seriously. I was hoping that since it was in the evening, a lot of kids wouldn’t show—but then the principal offered every student who came extra credit in the class of their choosing. That was almost as good as free food.

I went home at the end of the school day, figuring I’d be home just long enough to shower, and change, and pray for an asteroid to wipe out all human life before I had to give my speech. When I got out of the shower, Mom accosted me in the hallway.

“Get dressed, we’re picking up Aunt Mona at the airport.”

I just stood there with a towel around me and a sinkhole opening beneath my feet.

“Don’t give me that look,” she said. “Her flight arrives in less than an hour.” I could tell Mom was already at the end of her rope, and the visit hadn’t even started. “Please, Antsy, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

“But... but I got something I gotta do!”

“It can wait.”

I laughed nervously, imagining an auditorium full of people waiting, and waiting and waiting. The one thing worse than having to give this speech was not showing up at all.

“You don’t understand . . . I’m giving a speech tonight for that friend of mine.” And this next part I had to force out, because it wasn’t coming by itself. “The one who’s dying.”

That gave her a moment’s pause. “You’re giving a speech?”

“Yeah. The district superintendent is going to be there and everything.”

“Why is this the first we’re hearing about this?”

“Well, maybe if you two weren’t at the restaurant all the time, you would have heard.” I didn’t mean that, but I chose to play the guilt card because this was serious, and I had to use every weapon at my disposal.

“What time does it start?” she asked.

“Six.”

“Well, if you’re giving a speech, we’ll all want to be there. We can pick up your aunt and make it back by six.”

“You can’t be serious! LaGuardia Airport at this time of day? In this weather? We’ll be lucky if we’re back for the Fourth of July!”

But Mom wasn’t caving. “Don’t worry—your father knows shortcuts. Now go put on that shirt Aunt Mona bought you.”

At last I lost all power of speech. Of all the days to have to wear that stupid pink-and-orange shirt—was I going to have to give a speech in front of the entire student body looking like a cross between a Barbie car and a traffic cone? My mouth hung open, something sounding like Morse code came out, and Mom said:

“Just do it,” and she went downstairs to give the living room a final dusting.

I stewed all the way to LaGuardia.

“Stop pouting,” Mom said, as if this was a mere childish expression of disappointment.

Well, you asked for it, I told myself. You asked for an asteroid and here it is. Planetoid Mona, impact at 4:26 P.M., Eastern Standard Time.

As much as I hated having to give a speech, I didn’t want to be a no-show for Gunnar. All could be lost today if we didn’t make it back. My good standing with the principal, my self-respect—even Kjersten, who did not approve of Gunnar’s rally but would approve even less of me skipping out on him. And would Mona take the fall for this? Would my parents? No! It would all be on my head.

I cursed myself for not having the guts to say no and stick by it, refusing to go.

“Why do we all have to be at the airport?” I had said just before we left the house. “If the rest of you are there, why do I have to go?”

“Because I’m asking you to,” was my father’s response.

And as unreasonable as that was, I knew I had to go. Maybe Gunnar’s dad has forfeited his right to be respected—but I still had to respect my father’s wishes. Even if they screwed me royally.

By the time we got to the terminal, Aunt Mona was already waiting, and even before she hugged us, the onslaught began.

“Ugh! Where were you? I’ve been here for ten minutes!”

“Couldn’t find parking,” Dad said, kissing her cheek. “Your luggage come yet?”

“You know LaGuardia. Ugh! I’ll be lucky if it comes at all.” She looked at me and nodded approvingly. “I see you’re wearing that shirt I got you. It’s European, you know. I got it especially for you—the bright colors are supposed to make you look muscular.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Christina grin, and I sniffed loudly to remind her she stunk of Mona’s perfume. I looked at my watch—Mom saw me, and tried to rush everything along. Luckily the luggage came out quickly, and we hurried to the car, with less than an horn: to make it to the rally.

Air travel was not a good thing for my aunt’s mood. Our car ride was a veritable feast of unpleasantness—but rather than going through everything Mona said on the car ride, I’ll offer you a menu of choice selections.

Mona

An all-you-can-stomach experience.

—APPETIZERS—

“I see you’ve still got the same old car. Do they even make this model anymore?”

“Where are you taking us? You never had a sense of direction, Joe. Even as a boy he’d get lost on his bicycle and I’d have to find him.”

“You should smile more, Angela.

Maybe then your children might.”

—WHINE LIST—

“Ugh! I’m an icicle here—this heater gives no heat!”

“Toxic mold in your basement? Ugh! You should have had the whole house torn down.”

“Can’t we stop and get something to drink? I’m getting nauseous from the fumes. Ugh!” [3] (I suggested a pitcher of water, but Mom reached over Christina and smacked me.)

— SOUPS AND STEWS—

“Traffic? You don’t know traffic until you’ve lived in Chicago. Your traffic is nothing compared to mine.”

“Stress? You don’t know stress until you’ve run a perfume company. Your stress is nothing compared to what I go through.”

“Weather? You don’t know how easy you have it! Come to Chicago if you want to know what real weather is.”

— MAIN COURSE—

(Served scalding hot, and taken with a grain of salt)

“You’re taking me to Paris, Capisce? for dinner? I thought we were going to a regular restaurant.”

“It’s on Avenue T? Couldn’t you find a better location? Well, I suppose you’ll do better in a neighborhood with low expectations.”

“Once I move to New York, I’ll be able to give you pointers on the right way to run a business. [4] (At this point dad reached to the dashboard, and for the briefest insane moment, I thought he might be reaching for an ejection button that would send aunt Mona flying through the roof — but he was just turning on the radio.)