Dominique
and Duard and Phoebe laughed uproariously, tears rolling out of their
eyes. Duard clutched onto the side of the Swinger to steady himself. They
laughed and laughed and laughed and then they each slowly remembered about
the brain they had found and then they stopped laughing and looked nervously
at the curb. Dominique sighed loudly. Duard cleared his throat. It was
still there.
The three teenagers stood around the brain,
crestfallen.
"Maybe we should have told Calcagno about
it," Phoebe said.
"Oh yeah, right," Dominique said. "They'd
slap me back in Skagville so fast it'd make your head spin."
Skagville was the name of a penitentiary
north of Mt. Carmel. They had a large juvenile unit, where they sent you
if you were too good for prison but not bad enough for high school.
Phoebe looked at Dominique. "I didn't know
you were in Skagville, Dominique," she said.
Dominique blushed. Phoebe saw that she hadn't
meant to admit it. This was what Dominique had been up to in the time
she had "taken off" from school.
"Yeah, well," Dominique said. "There's a
lot people don't know."
Duard was scratching his head. "There's
no reason you should have to go back to jail," he said. "It's not your
fuckin' brain!"
"Oh, yeah, like anybody's going to believe
me," Dominique said. "I am so sure!"
"I don't mind," Phoebe said. "It doesn't
make any difference to me that you were there, Dominique. In Skagville."
"Well," Dominique said. "It should." Phoebe
looked hard at her friend. Beneath all that makeup and the readiance of
her enormous hair, Dominique looked ashamed. For the first time Phoebe
thought she looked like her real age, like a teenager. Only five years
ago she had looked pretty much like Elaine Voron, sitting there in the
lunchroom pouring chocolate milk out of a plaid thermos, eating peanut
butter and grape jelly sandwiches in which the jelly had seeped through
the bread. It wasn't really that big a leap from there to here.
"It was when I smashed my father's car,"
Dominique said, blushing. "They said I was aiming it, at old Grandpa Stroehmann.
Like I could care if he lieves or dies, I mean, really!"
"Let's get out of here," Phoebe said. "Let's
go home."
Duard squatted down and picked up a stick.
"Wait a minute. Lemme poke this brain first."
"Leave it alone, Duard," Dominique
snapped.
"All I'm gonna do is poke it," he said.
"Jesus! I'm so tired of hearing about this
goddamn brain all the time!"
"I want to poke it," Duard said, poking
it.
"I'm not kidding!" Dominique said. "I'm
getting sick and tired of it! I mean, it's like all anybody can goddamn
talk about! There's more important stuff than that brain in life!"
"Hey," Duard said. He bent over and picked
it up.
Dominique screamed. "Put it down!" she yelled.
Duard raised it to his nose.
"What are you doing?" Phoebe said. "Duard?"
Duard sniffed. "Chocolate," he said.
"Chocolate?" Phoebe and Dominique said.
"It's like, a chocolate brain?"
He licked it.
Everything was very quiet. There was a soft
lapping sound as Duard's tongue ticked against the brain's crenellations.
"Uh-oh," Duard said, lowering the brain.
"What do you mean?" Dominique said, looking
at Duard, then looking at the brain, then looking at Duard again. "What's
'uh-oh'?"
Duard looked sad. He shook his head. A long
time seemed to pass.
"Duard," Dominique said again. "Please.
Tell me."
"Tell you what?" Duard whispered. "Tell
you what, Dominique?"
"Duard," Dominique whispered back, urgently.
"What's 'uh-oh'?"
Duard shrugged mournfully. "It's not chocolate,"
he said.
From overhead there came a vicious hooooo.
There in the night sky was the silhouette of those beating wings, the
grasping talons. Phoebe stared at the distant stars.
"Duard," Dominique whispered. "What is it?
If it's not chocolate?"
"I don't know," Duard said. "What am I?
Some scientist?"
"Is it marble? Plaster of Paris?"
Duard shrugged. "Naw."
"Plastic?"
"Naw."
"Rubber?"
"Latex," Duard said. He held the brain up
for the girls to see. "Somebody made it."
Dominique was still looking at Duard, and
the brain, with great regret. "Go on," Phoebe said. "Don't you want to
touch it?"
"I - I don't know," Dominique said. "I'm
not sure."
"Here," Duard said, handing it to her. "It's
yours. I want you to have it."
Dominique put her hands out to accept the
brain, and Duard placed it gently in her palms. The brain looked strange
with Dominique's long black fingernails around it. "But, Duard," she said.
"It doesn't belong to us."
"Sure it does, Dominique," he said. "Now
it's yours."
Dominique stood there holding the brain
for some time. Then she seemed to soften. Phoebe thought she saw tears
in her eyes.
"Oh, Duard," she said. "This is the nicest
thing anybody every gave to me."
"Aw, Dominique," Duard said.
"Aw, Duard," Dominique said.
They wrapped their arms around each other,
Dominique still holding the brain in one hand.
"Domineeky," said Duard. "Neeky, Neeky,
Neeky."
"Duard," Dominique said. "My only Duard."
Phoebe leaned against the side of the car.
This was going to take longer than she thought.
Excerpt written
by Jennifer Finney Boylan and reprinted with her permission
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