Jeremy Fink And The Meaning Of Life Part 21

"That's okay," she says. Then when she sees us all looking at her with expressions of 'oh, isn't she cute hugging the doll,' she hastily throws it on top of the suitcase. "It was getting heavy anyway."

"Thanks for everything, Mr. Oswald," I say, sticking out my hand.

He shakes it firmly. "It was my pleasure working with you both. I hope you find what you're looking for. In more ways than one."

Lizzy shakes his hand, too. "I hope you like it down there in Florida. Maybe you'll meet some nice lady to keep you company."

"Lizzy!" I exclaim.

Mr. Oswald just laughs. "We'll see, we'll see."

The ride home is quiet. We make sure to push all the b.u.t.tons that we hadn't tried before, and turn on the TV for the first time. All we get is static. I turn to Lizzy. "Did you know that some of the radiation from the Big Bang is inside the static on your TV set?"

"Where'd you learn that one?"

"I've been doing some reading about the universe lately. During the H.O.J."

"That's pretty interesting," she says.

My eyes widen. "It is?" Lizzy has never, in my memory, said any of my factoids were interesting. James pulls up in front of the building, but neither of us gets out. I keep opening and closing the door of the fridge. Lizzy fiddles with the armrest. Finally James opens both of the back doors, and we have no choice.

We stand on the curb as he lifts the suitcase out and places it on the sidewalk. He hands Lizzy her doll. She glances around to make sure no one we know is watching before she takes it.

"We'll miss you, James," she says. 'You're a man of few words."

He chuckles. "Never learned anything by listening to myself talk."

"Are you going to Florida with Mr. Oswald?" I ask.

"For a little while. Help him get settled. He won't need me down there. I guarantee in a month or two he'll have set up shop at some antique show or flea market. He can't stay away from those things. Loves meeting other collectors. It's in his blood."

"I know what you mean," I tell him. "It's in mine, too."

"Be good," James tells Lizzy. He sticks out his hand, but she gives him a hug instead. The doll gets wedged between them. They both laugh.

I shake his hand. "Thanks for everything, James. Keep your eyes out for those mollusk fossils."

"Always do," he says, tipping his hat.

We watch the limo until it reaches the end of the block and disappears around the corner. I look down at the suitcase. There's no way we'll be able to get it up the stairs. "Why don't we sort through this stuff out here? Then we can just keep the keys. I'm sure we'd be able to lift it then."

"You mean separate the flotsam from the jetsam?" she says, already kneeling down next to the suitcase.

"You take the flotsam," I tell her. "I'll take the jetsam."

"You always get the jetsam," she says, pretending to pout.

"Do you ever worry if people heard our conversations, they would lock us up?"

"All the time," she says, setting the big doll carefully on the lower step so it looks like she's watching over us. "All the time."

Chapter 17: Milestones.

In the time it takes us to sort through the suitcase, half the building pa.s.ses by. Mrs. Sanchez says we look hungry and brings us tacos. I pretend to eat mine, but stick it in my bag and eat one of my peanut b.u.t.ter sandwiches instead. Bobby asks if he can play with Lizzy's doll, and she reluctantly lets him take it upstairs with him. I think it shows strength of character on my part that I haven't teased her about that doll. It hasn't been easy.

Besides all the things Mr. Oswald had said were in there, we find six dollars and thirty-two cents worth of pennies and nickels, two thimbles, eighteen rusty nails, an old watch with a cracked face, dozens of pull-tops from old soda cans, a.s.sorted tin foil b.a.l.l.s, three leaky batteries, and more than a few dead beetles.

With only the keys remaining in the suitcase, it is light enough for me to carry alone. "How many you think we've got?" I ask, stopping a few feet away from my apartment door to rest.

"Two hundred?" she guesses.

I nod. "At least. It's gonna take us hours. Days."

"We're gonna have to bring it with us to your grandmother's."

"If we get started tonight, maybe we can finish it tomorrow."

Lizzy shakes her head. "I don't feel very good. That taco isn't sitting well, if you know what I mean. You can start without me though."

I shake my head. "We can wait till tomorrow. Either the keys are here, or they're not." I pick up the suitcase again and drag it the rest of the way, b.u.mping up each stair as we go. "If you need anything, my mom has a pharmacy worth of stomach stuff in the medicine cabinet."

"Thanks," she says with a small moan. "I'm just gonna lie down."

A few hours later, Mom and I are playing cards in the kitchen when Lizzy knocks on the door. She's clutching her stomach and looks pale. "Mrs. Fink? I think I need your help."

Mom jumps up from the table and herds Lizzy into the bathroom. I hear them talking, but can't hear what they're saying. I don't want to intrude, but I'm worried. Lizzy's never sick. She's like me with the iron stomach. I turn the corner to the bathroom in time to see my mom slap Lizzy on the cheek. When she takes her hand away, I can see a red handprint. Then my mom pulls her into a hug, and they both start laughing. Laughing!

My jaw literally falls open in shock. Mom has never hit me, and I know Mr. Muldoun has never hit Lizzy. "Mom! What are you doing? Whatever Lizzy did, it can't be that bad! And she's sick, too!"

"Jeremy, it's okay," Lizzy says, wiping away a tear.

I can feel the blood rising to my cheeks. "How is it okay? Mom, why did you hit her?"

"Oh, honey," Mom says gently. "It's an old custom when a girl becomes, er, when she, um..." Mom trails off, glancing at Lizzy like she's unsure she should continue.

"I got my period!" Lizzy shouts. "Congratulate me. I'm a woman now!"

Honestly, if the floor would open up and swallow me, I would go happily. I don't know where to look. I knew all the girls at school saw a special film in fifth grade on "becoming a woman" while us boys were sent outside to play dodgeball. And I had heard whisperings last year of girls who had "accidents" during school and had to tie their sweatshirts around their waists. But I can't say I really understand any of it. Lizzy's having this milestone moment, and I'm not any part of it. Starting to feel like a third wheel, I back up, muttering "Er, congratulations, that's great, er, okay, bye!"

Mom closes the door to the bathroom, and I hear the sound of boxes being opened. I knew Mom kept her "woman" stuff under the sink, but I'd never so much as glanced at the boxes to see what was inside them. I'm in my room when I hear the front door close. A minute later Mom knocks on my door.

"I want to make sure you're all right," she says, joining me on the bed.

I put down the comic I'm reading and nod uncertainly. "It's just weird, I guess."

She nods. "I know. You two are growing up so fast. You're already taller than me, and now this with Lizzy." Her eyes fill with tears. "Where does the time go? Soon you'll be off to college."

There's no talking to her when she gets all sentimental like this. I keep glancing at the comic in my lap while she goes on about time flying. Finally she gets the hint. I scribble a note to Lizzy, apologizing for acting weird, but when I go to stick the note in the hole, it won't go through. I jam it in again, but it still won't go. I pull the paper out and put my eye to the hole. No wonder it won't go anywhere. Instead of seeing the back of the poster that usually hangs there, all I see is a wad of tinfoil. I knock twice on the wall, but she doesn't answer. I consider sending an e-mail, but we never e-mail each other.

The suitcase by my door beckons. If Lizzy is tuning me out, I might as well get a jump on the keys. I kneel down and unlatch the case. But as soon as I flip it open I know I won't do it. We've been in this together from the beginning. It just wouldn't be right. I start packing for the trip instead.

It's almost noon the next day before Lizzy comes over. "Hey," she says, leaning against my desk. She doesn't look any different.

"Hey."

She notices my packed duffel bag on the foot of my bed. "All packed?"

"Yup. You?"

"Nope."

I'm not used to it being awkward between us, and I'm hoping it goes away very soon.

"Um, I'm sorry about the tin foil," she says.

"It's okay."

"I just need some, I don't know, privacy, I guess. Just for a little while."

"I understand."

"Good."

I suddenly feel embarra.s.sed again, like last night. I have to redeem myself somehow for just ducking away. "Are you, um, feeling better?"

She nods. "A little crampy, but better. Your mom really helped me out. My dad was freaking. He was running around in circles in the living room. It was pretty funny."

"Yeah, my mom's a little freaked out, too. Us getting older and stuff."

"Enough serious talk," she says, sitting down on the floor next to the suitcase. "Let's get to work."

Relieved not to have to talk about it anymore, I quickly grab my box from the desk and join her. Every type of key imaginable stares up at us from the bottom of the suitcase. Bra.s.s and copper and silver and yellow and even a few translucent ones. Big and small and fat and thin. Some are so rusty they almost fall apart in our hands, while some look like they were minted a year ago. We keep banging into each other as we try to stick the keys in the holes, but it would take way too long if only one of us did it at a time. Soon we get into a rhythm, and now we're knocking elbows just once every four or five keys. Mom, who's off from work today, brings us grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. We take breaks only to run to the bathroom.

At four o'clock, the miraculous happens. One of my keys goes all the way into the hole. I grab Lizzy's arm, and she freezes.

"Do it," she says. "Turn it."

I take a deep breath and turn it to the right. Nothing happens. "The other way," she says. "Turn it the other way."

"That sounds familiar," I mutter, remembering the door to Harold Folgard's office, but I do it anyway.

And it turns! It turns easily. I hear a click as some mechanism snaps into place. We look at each other in shock and glee. Then we both jump up yelling. We run and yell in circles around the pile of discarded keys. Mom comes in and joins us in the circle. I can't believe that we actually found one after looking in so many places. Our theory was right-if we searched enough keys, maybe we'd find one that worked. And we did!

After the jumping and yelling ends, we eagerly dive back into the suitcase. "Careful not to go too fast and miss one," I warn.

"Don't worry, I'm being very careful. Look for ones that look like the one that worked."

The one that worked was long and silver. We try all the ones that even remotely resemble it, but they don't do anything.

At six o'clock, Mom makes us come into the kitchen to eat. A hamburger for me, veggie burger for Lizzy. Mr. Muldoun joins us. He and Mom have grown-up food. A green pepper stuffed with some sort of rice and tomato and chopped meat glop.

"So what are you going to do while Lizzy's away?" I ask Lizzy's dad.

"Oh, the usual," he says between bites of the dinner I'm sure he's only pretending to enjoy. "Wild parties, dancing till dawn, that sort of thing."

"And here I thought you'd miss me," Lizzy says.

"Of course I'll miss you," he says. "But I'm glad you're going out to the country. We all need to breathe that fresh air every now and again."

"All those cows don't make the air smell very fresh," Lizzy complains.

"There aren't any cows at Grandma's B&B!"

"There's some kind of funky smell there."

"It's the cats! You love cats!"

"I love my cat," she corrects me. "Not all cats. Your grandmother has, what, like, twelve of them?"

I nod. "Twelve cats, twelve rooms. Only cat lovers stay there."

"Hey, Dad, guess what?" Lizzy asks, apparently already having lost interest in the cats.

"I give up."

"We found one of the keys for Jeremy's box!"

He looks at me and grins. "That's wonderful."

"I know! And we still have a lot to go through!"

"You two can get back to it if you like," my mom says. "Just finish your burgers."

Five minutes later, we're back on our knees in front of the open suitcase. Fifty minutes after that, we find our second key. Lizzy's hand shakes as she turns it and it clicks into place. This time we sit very calmly, although my heart is racing. The second key is short and squat. Nothing at all like the first.

"They could all be here," she says, her voice cracking. "You might be able to open the box on your birthday after all."

"I know," I whisper, realizing I never let myself believe it might really happen.

"So what are we waiting for?"