Don't Make Me Smile, Page 2

  I put on my pajamas and slowly opened the bathroom door. I wanted to make sure my mother wasn’t hanging around the hall waiting for me to come out.

  I just wanted to be left alone.

  The coast was clear. I hurried into my bedroom and locked the door behind me.

  “I’m going to bed now,” I hollered.

  But as it turned out, I didn’t need to holler at all. When I turned around, my mother was standing there waiting for me.

  I could tell she had been crying. Her nose was all red and her eyes were real puffy-looking. She looked awful.

  I wanted to tell her to get out of my room, but I was afraid she would start crying again.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly.

  I didn’t answer.

  “Charles, please,” she said, “I know this is a big shock for you, and it’s very hard for you to understand. But it’s hard for all of us.”

  A couple of tears rolled down her cheek.

  All I can say is that if she was trying to make me feel better, she was doing one lousy job.

  I wanted her to leave. It was all that I could think about.

  I didn’t say anything. I just unlocked my door and pointed to the hall. This clearly meant for her to go.

  She didn’t, though. She just stood there.

  So I left instead.

  I heard my father in the bedroom. I went to his door and looked in. He was standing there holding two suitcases.

  Suddenly, I was furious. How could they do this to me? How could two people who were supposed to love me wreck my life like this?

  My father looked embarrassed. “I guess I’ll be staying in a motel for a couple of days,” he said. “I’ll come get you tomorrow and we’ll talk. Okay?”

  I just kept glaring at those suitcases.

  He put them down and came over to me. “Everything will be okay, Charlie,” he said. “I promise you it will.”

  I backed away. I could tell I was making him feel uncomfortable. I was glad.

  Finally, he picked up his suitcases again and walked out. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

  I followed him down the hall to the front door. I wanted to make him feel as upset and sick as I was. I wanted to make him throw up, too.

  As he headed down the front steps to his truck, I started to cry.

  “Don’t, Charles,” he said. “Please don’t cry.”

  Since he didn’t want me to cry, I cried even louder. Making him feel terrible was the only thing that could make me feel better.

  I really started to blubber.

  There’s a big difference between just plain crying and blubbering, by the way. Crying is when you make little whimpering noises and tears come out of your eyes. Blubbering is when you make this loud heaving noise, and your nose runs, and everyone in the neighborhood can hear you.

  After my father put his suitcases in the truck, he reached out to me. I backed away again. I didn’t want him to touch me. All I wanted was to show him how terrible he had made me feel.

  At last, he got in his truck and drove away.

  I went back inside and ran to my room. My mother was still there. And to make matters worse, she was crying again.

  She was really getting on my nerves. What in the world did she have to cry about? Her parents weren’t splitting up, were they?

  “I want to be alone,” I said.

  This time, she didn’t argue. She just walked out.

  As soon as the door was closed, I flopped on my bed. All I could think about was how both of them kept asking me if I was okay.

  Suddenly, I got up and opened my door.

  “And I’m NOT okay!” I shouted. “I’ll never be okay again!”

  (four)

  WHEN SOMETHING bad happens, people don’t all act the same way. Some people go nuts. Others just act like nothing has happened at all.

  I always used to wonder which kind of person I was. Now I know.

  I’m the kind who goes nuts.

  I started going nuts the day after my father told me about the divorce.

  My mother knocked on my door at the regular time to get me up for school.

  “Are you awake, Charles?” she called.

  I didn’t answer. I must admit, I was getting pretty good at not answering. It’s really very easy. All you have to do is not open your mouth.

  To me, the greatest thing about not answering is that no one can make you do it if you don’t want to. That makes it very special. Because when you think about it, there aren’t too many things your parents can’t make you do if they really try hard enough.

  Take mowing the lawn for instance.

  One time I totally refused to mow the lawn. It was about a hundred and fifty degrees outside, and the grass was about a foot high. So when my mother told me to go out and cut it, I told her, “Later.”

  “No, not later, Charles,” she said. “Now.”

  “No! Not now!” I yelled.

  I don’t usually disobey my mother like that. It’s not that I’m afraid of her or anything. It’s just that she can make my life pretty miserable if I don’t do what she says.

  Anyway, it only took about two seconds before Mom came into my room, yanked me by the arm, and pulled me outside.

  After that, she started the lawn mower, put my hands on the handle, and put her hands on top of them.

  Then, before I knew it, she was walking me all over the yard, making me push the mower.

  Man, did I ever feel like an idiot. Every once in a while, one of my friends would ride by on his bike and laugh. It was totally humiliating.

  Anyway, that’s the kind of thing parents can make you do. But there’s no way they can make you answer if you don’t want to. No way in the world.

  Of course, I don’t want you to get the idea that I wasn’t going to speak at all. Oh no. I was planning to speak, all right. But only when I felt like it. And only when I had something really mean to say.

  “Come on, Charlie, get up,” Mom said again. “I don’t want you to miss your bus.”

  Can you believe that? She actually thought that I was going to school as if nothing had even happened.

  Boy, was she in for a surprise.

  I heard her go into the kitchen to start breakfast. But a couple of minutes later, she was right back at my door. My mother is like a boomerang, sometimes.

  “Charlie, your breakfast is ready. Let’s go,” she shouted.

  She waited.

  “Charlie?” she called. “Charlie? ANSWER ME!”

  Her voice was getting frantic. I think I know why, too. Since I hadn’t answered, she was probably afraid that the stress of the divorce had been too much for me. Like she was probably thinking that I had had a heart attack from all the tension or something.

  But not me. No way. In fact, just the thought of having a heart attack made me feel all spooky inside.

  It also gave me a mean idea.

  My mother got the key to my door and opened it as fast as she could. When she came into my room, I was lying there very, very still.

  She ran over and pulled the sheet off me. “Charlie?” she shouted, shaking me. “Are you okay? Wake up! Wake up!”

  I didn’t move a muscle.

  Mom hollered, “Oh my God!” and ran out of the room.

  As soon as she was gone, I sat up and smiled.

  A second later, she was back. Just like a boomerang.

  When she saw me sitting up, she collapsed in relief. “Oh, thank goodness, Charles!” she said. “I thought something terrible had happened to you.”

  She sat down on my bed and hugged me as tightly as she could. But my mother’s not dumb. And it didn’t take her long to realize that I had just played a very mean trick on her.

  That’s when she blew up.

  Parents do this sort of thing all the time. As soon as they’re sure you’re not hurt, they think they have to punish you.

  “Charlie! How could you do a thing like that to me?” she said. “How coul
d you deliberately let me think that something bad had happened?”

  I didn’t answer.

  By then, Mom had had it. She stood up. “Okay, I’m going to say this one more time, Charles! Get ready for school this minute. And I mean N-O-W!”

  My mother is a very strange person. You’d think that when your kid is still wearing his pajamas ten minutes before the school bus comes, you would already understand that he wasn’t going to school that day. But not my mother. She still wasn’t getting the picture.

  “I’m not going,” I said at last.

  She frowned. “Excuse me?” she said. “What do you mean, you’re not going?”

  I explained. “That means that I’m not getting on the bus. And I’m not getting off the bus. And I’m not going to my classroom. And I’m not sitting down in my seat. And I’m not going out for recess. And I’m not going to the lunchroom—”

  Mom interrupted. “That’s enough, Charles. That’s really enough.”

  She walked around the room a few seconds. Then finally she sat down on my bed again.

  Her voice was calmer now. “Look, honey,” she said. “I know that you had an awful shock last night. And I know that you must be very upset about it. But that doesn’t give you the right to go around acting horrible to everyone.”

  She continued. “Now, today, after school, your dad is going to pick you up and try to explain things to you better. There are a lot of things that he can tell you to help you understand what’s happening. And sooner or later, we’re all going to get through this. But it won’t make things any easier if we all go around acting terrible to each other. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  I nodded.

  “Good,” she said. “I knew I could count on you. Now hurry up and get dressed.”

  “Mom?” I asked as she started for the door. “Could I just finish explaining what I started before?”

  “Sure, honey,” she said. “Go ahead.”

  “Well, I just wanted to say that after I don’t go to the lunchroom, I’m not going to music. Then I’m not going back to my classroom. I’m not going to get dismissed. And I’m not going to wait for Dad to come get me.”

  Mom looked confused. “But you just said you were going.”

  “No, I didn’t,” I said. “I didn’t say that at all.”

  My mother blew up again.

  “Okay, Mr. Smart Aleck. Let me put it this way,” she said. “You ARE getting dressed, and you ARE going to school! Do you hear me?”

  I crawled back under my sheet.

  Mom stormed over to my bed. “You listen to me, young man. I expect you to mind! I AM STILL YOUR MOTHER!”

  Angrily, I looked up at her.

  “No, you’re not!” I shouted. “A mother is a person who loves her kids and who cares about their feelings. I don’t know what you are, but if you ask me, you’re sure no mother!”

  This time, my mother didn’t shout back. Instead, she ran to her bedroom and slammed the door.

  I think I had made her cry again.

  I don’t care.

  I don’t like people who ruin my life.

  (five)

  THE REASON that I didn’t want to go to school was simple. I didn’t want to have to tell my friends that my parents were getting a divorce. I just didn’t want to do it, that’s all.

  But refusing to go to school is a lot like mowing the lawn. If your parents really want you to go, they can usually figure out a way to make you. So while I was lying there in bed, I tried to think of what I would say to my friends if my parents made me go.

  One thing was for sure. I didn’t want to have to go around saying it a million times. I wanted to say it once and get it over with.

  I wondered if our principal, Mr. Kabinski, would let me use the school intercom. The intercom would be perfect, I thought.

  In my mind, I went over exactly what I would say.

  May I have your attention, please? This is Charles Hickle speaking.

  I would like to inform everyone that last night, at approximately 8:15 P.M., my father came into my room and told me that he and my mother are planning to get a divorce.

  Now I know that some of you have already been through this sort of thing, and it didn’t really bother you. But I also know that different people react to bad news in different ways. And as for me … I have gone nuts.

  I hope this will explain why some of you saw my mother dragging me to school today. And I also hope it will explain why I am still wearing my pajamas.

  I played it over and over in my head. It sounded pretty good, actually. But I knew I would probably never get to use it.

  In the first place, I didn’t think that my mother was strong enough to drag me to school all by herself. And even if she did, I was pretty sure that Mr. Kabinski would never let some idiot in his pajamas make an announcement over the intercom.

  That’s why I decided to try and think of another way to handle it. I mean, maybe I didn’t have to be totally honest with my friends about the divorce. Maybe I could just tell them that my father had gone away on a business trip.

  The trouble was, sooner or later, I knew someone would say, “Wow, your dad sure has been gone a long time. How long does this business trip last, anyway?”

  Then I would have to say, “Oh, he’s on one of those business trips where he never actually comes back.”

  And even though my friends seem pretty dopey sometimes, they’re still smart enough to figure out that no one stays on a business trip forever.

  Finally, there was only one thing left to do. I got out of bed and went into the kitchen to call MaryAnn Brady.

  MaryAnn Brady lives next door. I don’t like her very much, but sometimes she comes in handy. MaryAnn Brady is one of those people you can always count on to blab around your secrets. Like if you tell MaryAnn something totally private in the morning, she’ll have it spread all over the school by lunchtime. Good old MaryAnn. It’s nice to have someone you can count on like that.

  After two rings, MaryAnn answered the phone. I figured she would still be home. MaryAnn doesn’t take the bus. Her father drives her to school. I think she likes to stay home extra long in the mornings, just in case anyone wants to call with last-minute gossip.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hi, MaryAnn. It’s Charles,” I said.

  MaryAnn is also one of those people who doesn’t say hi after you tell her your name. All she does is breathe.

  “Listen, MaryAnn,” I said. “I’m just calling to tell you that I’m not going to school today.”

  “So?” she said.

  “So, I just wanted to tell you why I’m not going to be there, that’s all,” I said. “It’s a big secret, though. I don’t want anyone else to know.”

  I could almost see MaryAnn’s eyes light up.

  “What is it, Charles?” she said. “Tell me.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But first you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even your mother and father.”

  “I promise. I promise. Now tell me,” she begged.

  “Well, the reason that I won’t be going to school today,” I said, “is that last night my parents told me they’re getting a divorce.”

  MaryAnn got so excited, she almost dropped the phone.

  “What?” she said. “You’re kidding? Your parents are getting a divorce? Oh my gosh, Charles! That’s so terrible. A DIVORCE! Wow!”

  Already I was sure that her parents had heard the news. Man, what a big mouth.

  “I know, MaryAnn,” I said. “But remember. You promised not to tell anyone.”

  MaryAnn didn’t hear that part. She had already said good-bye. I guess she needed to hurry if she was going to tell the whole school by lunchtime.

  As soon as I hung up, I headed back to my room.

  Unfortunately, just as I started down the hall, my father walked in the front door. My mother must have called him to come help with my behavior.

  “Charlie?” he said. “What’s this I hear about you refus
ing to go to school today?”

  I just looked at him.

  Dad snapped his fingers. “Go get your clothes on, now,” he ordered.

  I don’t know why, but when my father says to do something, it always sounds more meaningful than when Mom says it. And the funny part is, he doesn’t even have to shout.

  I went to my room and got dressed. At least now, if they dragged me to school I wouldn’t be in my pajamas.

  After I was ready, my father came in and sat down on my bed.

  He put his arm around my shoulder. “Why are you acting like this, Charlie?” he asked. “This isn’t like you. You’re always so reasonable and easy to talk to.”

  I shrugged.

  “What are you thinking?” said Dad. “Talk to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

  I stared into space.

  “Do you think that your mother and I don’t care about you?” he asked. “Is that what you think? Do you think that we don’t love you anymore?”

  I shrugged again.

  “Well, if that’s what you think, you’re wrong,” said my father. “Your mother and I love you very, very much.”

  Suddenly, I couldn’t be quiet for one more second.

  “Do you call ruining my life loving me?” I asked. “Huh, Dad? Is that what you call it?”

  “We’re not going to ruin your life, Charlie,” he said. “It’s not going to be like that at all. We’re just changing things a little bit.”

  Now I was fuming.

  “Changing things a little bit?” I yelled. “Do you call wrecking our whole family, changing things a little bit?”

  My voice cracked, but I kept right on yelling.

  “Do you call not having a father around anymore a little change? Or maybe you think that just because I’m a kid I’m too stupid to know what divorce really means. Maybe you guys think I’m too dumb to know that my whole life is wrecked.”

  My father shook his head. “Charlie, no. We’ve never thought that you were stupid.”

  “Well then, why do you go around asking me stupid questions, like whether I’m okay or not?” I asked. “Because for your information, I am not okay, Dad. I’ll never be okay again.”

  I flopped back on the bed and buried my face in my pillow.