Нил Шустерман - The Schwa Was Here

“What are you all dressed up for?” my mother asked as she peered into my bedroom that morning.

“Funeral,” I told her.

She studied me, trying to decide if I was telling the truth or just being my normal nuisance. “Who died?” she asked.

“Your sense of humor,” I told her.

She frowned at me, and made like she was going to match wisecracks, but instead she just came into my room and straightened the knot on my tie. “You got someone to impress at nine in the morning?” she asked.

“Ten,” I told her. I lifted my neck so she could get the tie just right.

“Is she pretty?”

I just hope she’s human, I wanted to say, but instead I just shrugged.

Mom stepped back to admire me. “You look handsome,” she said. “Just don’t make an idiot of yourself.”

Unless I wanted to climb on the roof again, the only way into Crawley’s apartment was through the restaurant, which was closed this time of the morning. After knocking a few times on the front entrance, I went around back, where a custodian let me in. The restaurant was creepy in the off-hours. Chairs were stacked on top of tables, the floor was still wet from the custo­dian’s mop.

I climbed the stairs to the old, unused part of the restaurant and the big wooden door of the apartment toward the back. Even before I got to the door, the dogs began to bark.

“Get out of the way, you mutts,” I could hear Crawley gripe on the other side of the door. “Get back, or I swear I’ll put you in the gumbo!” Then I heard all the dead bolts snap open and he pulled the door just wide enough for me to squeeze in with­out letting the dogs out. I was attacked by fourteen tongues be­fore Crawley grabbed a handful of treats from his vest pocket and hurled them back toward the living room. The dogs, who knew the drill well, took off.

“Who’s there, Grandpa?” I heard a girl’s voice call from deeper in the apartment.

“Just the dog walker,” Crawley said.

“Dog walker?” I said. “But I thought—” Crawley rapped me hard in the arm to shut me up. “Ow!”

“It’s the dog walker,” Crawley said again. “He’s here to walk the dogs.” Then he turned to me. “Where’s your friend?”

Usually I was pretty quick to catch on to things, but today I was a bit behind the curve. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say. “Uh ... he had to go to a funeral.”

“Oh, that’s so sad,” I heard Lexie say. At least her voice sounded nice. I could see her stepping out of the kitchen now, but Crawley kept the place so dark I couldn’t see her face.

Crawley looked at me. “I guess you’ll have to walk the dogs all by yourself, then,” he said. And repeated, “All by yourself.”

“Uh ... sure, I guess,” I said.

And then Lexie said, “I could help.”

Finally I figured out what was going on here, and I felt like a moron for not catching on sooner. As soon as Lexie offered to help, Crawley smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. This was a setup. “I don’t know, Lexie . . . these dogs might be too strong for you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous—they’re no stronger than Moxie, and if I go with your dog walker, I won’t even have to take Moxie along.”

Lexie finally stepped out of the shadows. I didn’t see any­thing wrong with her at all. Tourette’s syndrome, I thought. Any second she’s gonna start cursing me out.

Actually, she was kind of pretty. Not perfect, of course, but then I wasn’t one to judge. There was something strange about her eyes. They were half closed, like she just spent an hour in Mr. Gandler’s social studies class, which, by the way, is a torture I wouldn’t even wish on my worst enemy.

Lexie stuck out her hand for me to shake. I had to move a few steps forward to grab her hand, and the moment I did, I figured the whole thing out.

“You’re blind!” I hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but well, there it was.

Crawley gave me a look of disgust that could spoil milk. “How very observant of you.”

“Sorry,” I said to Lexie, “but your grandfather had me think­ing you were a mutant or something.”

“Grandpa thinks everyone’s a mutant.” She kissed him on top of the head.

“Everyone is,” he grumbled.

A golden retriever much calmer than the other dogs paced out from the kitchen, wearing a harness and a rigid halter. A Seeing Eye dog. “This is Moxie,” she said, and I knelt down to pet him as he came to me. “He’ll be jealous when we walk the other dogs,” Lexie said, “but he’ll get over it.”

We put two dogs on leashes. Moxie whined a bit, as Lexie predicted, and I led her out.

“Shouldn’t I help you down the stairs or something?” I asked.

“Why?” she answered. “Five paces, turn right, twelve paces, turn left, twenty-two steps down, then nine paces to the door.”

She navigated the stairs with confidence.

We crossed the street and walked the sidewalk that lined the bay so we wouldn’t have to cross any more streets. Lexie held my arm as we walked a slow measured pace, with Prudence and Envy tugging on their leashes, and I silently wished I had lifted weights more, because she was holding on to my nearly nonexistent left bicep. I kept waiting for her to make a crack about it.

“So, how much is my grandfather paying you to entertain me?” she asked.

“Paying me? Why would he be paying me? I’m the dog walker. I walk the dogs.”

“Nice try, but I know my grandfather. How much is he pay­ing you to spend time with me?”

I was going to continue denying it, but I figured this blind girl could see through anything.

“Enough,” I said.

“Whatever it is, he’s ripping you off,” she said. “Ask for more.”

“I can’t do that!”

“Why not? Your time is worth at least minimum wage, isn’t it? And what about an expense account? Make sure he pays when you take me out to lunch, and when you take me dancing.”

“Dancing? I’m taking you dancing?”

Lexie laughed. “Well, not if you don’t want to. The boy last year couldn’t dance at all.”

So now I was really beginning to stutter and sputter and make all those stupid noises a guy makes when his brain slips out of gear. “He’s done this before?”

“I spent the summer with Grandpa. He figures if he owns all my dates, he can keep me safe from the big bad world.”

It was news to me that Crawley considered me safe. In fact, it annoyed me. What had I gotten myself into here? I had never spent quality time with a blind girl before. I had never spent quality time with any girl. My experiences had been mostly Kmart quality, if you know what I mean. Parties were usually just Ira, Howie, and me standing on the sidelines, drinking punch and cracking jokes about the guys who actually had dates. As for the girls I had gone out with, well, it usually felt more like the hot seat on a game show. One bad answer sends you out on your butt, and the whole world’s laughing at you by eight o’clock, seven o’clock Central Time.

Lexie turned toward the bay the way most people would when they wanted to take in the view, but she was taking in the salty breeze against her face. Then she said something freaky.

“Can I see what you look like?”

I wasn’t sure if she was kidding or not. “How would you do that?”

“Like this.” She handed me Prudence’s leash, then reached up suddenly and pressed her hand to my face. I pulled back just as suddenly. Girls generally didn’t touch my face, unless slapping counts.

“Sorry,” she said. “If you don’t want me to ...”

“No, it’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting it. Go ahead. Try again.” She brought her right hand to my face again—this time more slowly. Then her left hand came up. She began rubbing both of my cheeks in little circles.