The Nose from Jupiter (3 page)

I stopped in surprise. I’d never been called Big Fella before.

–
That’s more like it.
The squeaky voice sounded encouraging, before turning tough.

–
And you, Lassie! Go home. Yes, you – go home already. Chase a stick. Or go and save somebody from drowning, okay, girl? Do me a favor. Geez!

I had to laugh; the look on the dog’s face was so comical. After a moment, it shook its head and trotted off.

–
That’s better. Laughing is a good sign. Maybe you don’t need as much help as you think, Big Boy.

“Help?” I said.

–
Sure. Didn’t you ask for help?

I didn’t answer.

–
Well, don’t worry about it. I’m going to the kitchen here to put on a pot of cocoa. On Jupiter, we all drink cocoa.

I looked around. None of the neighbors were outside, thank heavens. I didn’t want anyone else to notice me talking to myself.

–
Don’t be so standoffish. I’m just trying to get acquainted. Say, what’s your name?

I didn’t think I was crazy. Crazy is when you don’t know what’s going on. I knew all right; it just didn’t make any sense. “I’m Alan,” I said, and almost stuck out my hand before I remembered there was no one to shake it.

–
I’m Norbert.

“And you come from Jupiter,” I said. “That is so weird.”

–
What’s weird? You come from Earth. Now that’s weird, if you like. A tiny little planet that’s mostly water. One thing I will say, though. You’re a great host, Alan. I love this place.

“That’s inside my nose you’re talking about.”

–
Whatever. It needs a little fixing up, maybe, but there’s a lot of potential here. You don’t know what you’ve got inside you, Al.

Settling In

I didn’t finish cutting the lawn that afternoon. Somehow the urge had gone. I was too … I don’t know…too stunned about what had happened. Also Norbert wouldn’t leave me alone.

–
What are you doing?
he kept asking.
What’s that? A bicycle? A mailbox? Why are you taking your shoes off on the mat? Are those stairs? Is that a kitchen sink? Is that a real toaster?

“Yes,” I said. “That’s a real toaster.” And then, to satisfy him, I made toast. He was thrilled.

–
Smells good
, he said.

“Tastes even better.”

I had to ask him. “Norbert?” I still wasn’t used to talking to myself. We were in the living room and there’s a mirror
over the mantel and I saw myself in it – an odd picture. “Norbert,” I said, “how is it that you speak English? Don’t tell me they speak English on Jupiter.”

–
You’re forgetting about your signals. Sound and light. Radio and television pictures. You’ve been sending them out for years and years, and let me tell you, on Jupiter a year is a long time. I speak lots of languages.

“Wow.” Cobourg is a little town; there are a few farmers who speak Dutch, but everyone else’s idea of a foreign language is the French side of the cereal box.

–
My favorite signals from Earth are the ones broadcasting country music. That k.d. lang is great, isn’t she? Do you like her?

“I don’t know. She’s not bad, I guess.”

–
On Jupiter, we love k.d. lang.

Dinnertime was usually pretty quiet. Just the two of us, Mom and me, and something warmed up in the oven. That night it was supermarket pizza. Mom was munching hers and reading some reports from work, and I was munching mine and flipping the pages of a Silver Surfer comic when, all of a sudden, I felt a tingle in my nose.

–
What is that stuff you’re eating?

I shot a quick look at my mom. Had she heard?

“Pizza,” I whispered.

–
Is it supposed to smell like this?

“Well, it’s not great pizza. But the smell is about right.”

Norbert was silent for a moment. I went on eating. I hadn’t decided on what to tell Mom about Norbert. I knew I’d have to say something, but I didn’t know what. I was
kind of hoping he’d keep his mouth shut around other people.

Some hope.

–
Good evening, madam
, Norbert said.

Mom looked up at me. I blushed. She went back to her reading.

–
Nice to meet you. I’m Norbert.

Mom didn’t say anything.

–
Who’s the sourpuss?
Norbert asked.

I covered my mouth with one hand and spoke quietly. “Sh,” I whispered with my mouth full. “That’s my mother.”

–
Your mom, eh? You’ve got my sympathy.

“Yes, dear?” Mom still didn’t look up.

–
She looks like she hasn’t had any fun in awhile.

“Sh,” I whispered.

“I beg your pardon,” she said. “Did you say something, Alan?”

“No, Mom,” I said, truthfully enough. She went back to her report and I – well, Norbert – sniffed hard. I sniff because I’m about to sneeze. Norbert’s sniff was pure disgust.

–
Hey, lady! I’m talking to you.

Oh boy. She looked up with a frown. I didn’t know what to do. My face was bright – and I mean bright – red. The blush of the Dingwalls in full flower. I bet I was the exact same color as the tomato sauce on my pizza.

“Did you say something, dear?”

“Um, no,” I said. “I think I’m about finished my dinner. May I be excused?”

She nodded grimly. I ran out the door. In my room I sat down and had a chat with … well, with Norbert. I suppose it looked like I was having it with myself. Pretty funny.

“Norbert, you can’t go around yelling at Mom. It’s not polite.”

–
Not polite? What about her? Madam High and Mighty. The priestess with the leastest. Is it polite to ignore your own son at the dinner table?

“That’s not fair, Norbert. She talked to me when she got home from work.” I felt odd, saying this. My mom isn’t rude exactly, but, well, I am her son, and she doesn’t spend a lot of time with me. I know she loves me and all, but somehow … well, anyway, what I’m saying is that part of me could agree with Norbert.

–
Right. She asked how your day went. Then she said, “That’s fine.” And then she put the frozen pizza in the oven.
“She works hard,” I said.

–
Does she?

“She sure does. It’s not easy to care about your work and bring up a teenager. And it’s not like my dad is around to help.” I didn’t believe it, I was defending my mom.

–
Uh huh. Well, she’s your mom, Big Fella, not mine. Another thing – about dinner. Is it always that bad-tasting?

“Pretty much,” I admitted. “Sometimes we have meat-loaf. Mom makes that. It’s good.”

There was a knock on my door. “Alan, may I come in?” asked my mom.

I stood up. I don’t know why I stood up…maybe because I felt guilty. When you’re guilty you stand up. I
scattered my schoolbooks on my desk to make it look like I’d been reading them. “Come in.”

–
We were just talking about you.

“Sh, Norbert.”

Mom came in, staring. “Alan, do you have a cold?”

I had my hand over my nose. “No, no – that is, I don’t know. Now that I think of it, maybe I do have a bit of a cold.” I pretended to cough.

“It’s just that you sounded so strange at the table. And then coming up the stairs, I heard you talking to yourself and I thought … I thought you might be sick.”

She came over and, a little awkwardly, put her hand on my brow. She’s a little shorter than I am now, and she had to reach up. Her hand was cool and dry. She still wore her wedding ring.

–
Say, that smells nice
, said Norbert.

I choked. Mom didn’t say anything. She stopped rubbing my forehead for a minute, then went back to it.

–
Very nice. I miss my mom too, you know. She’s about four hundred million miles away.

“There there,” said Mom. “Maybe you’d better lie down.”

“Maybe I will,” I said.

Funny people, moms. My mom knew about Norbert, but she pretended he wasn’t there. She didn’t really believe in him. She called him my imaginary friend. I heard her on the phone talking to Grandma a couple of evenings later. “Yes, Alan has an imaginary friend now,” she said with a
laugh. “Just a phase; a lot of boys go through it. The books say it’s a sign of creativity. Isn’t that nice?”

Norbert sniffed when he heard this, and we went upstairs to do my math homework. Considering he could fly a spaceship and all, he wasn’t much better at math than I was. I asked him about it.

–
This stuff is all old math. On Jupiter we’re using a new system.

It didn’t take long for Norbert to become part of my life. Partly because I liked company, partly because I had no choice … I mean, I couldn’t just ask him to leave. By the end of the weekend, I was thinking of him almost as a brother. Sometimes older than me, sometimes younger, but always with a big mouth. Turned out he was older than me,
and
younger. He was three Jupiter years, but it takes Jupiter a bit less than twelve Earth years to orbit the sun. So he was either three or thirty-six … sometimes it was hard to say which.

“Why did you pick my nose to land in?” I asked.

–
Well, it was either yours or the dog’s.

I’d forgotten about the collie.

–
You ever been inside a dog’s nose? You know where dogs’ noses are, most of the time?

Good point.

I was kind of apprehensive about going to school on Monday. I didn’t want to have to explain Norbert to
everyone I knew. How could I explain that there was an alien living in my nose? Probably no one would even believe me. They’d think I was the one making the squeaky voice. I don’t like to be embarrassed – who does? – and I sensed that somehow, over the next few days, Norbert would find a way to embarrass me.

I met Victor coming out of his house. His mom was on the doorstep. A crisp golden morning, sun rising over the calm lake, sky so blue it almost hurt your eyes to look.

I like Mrs. Grunewald. She’s a little, fat lady with an accent like Lucky the Leprechaun. One of the Killarney Grunewalds, she calls herself.

“Bye, boys. Have yourselves a glorious day, now,” she said.

“Bye, Mom,” said Victor, pulling me away.

“Bye,” I said.

–
Farewell, mavourneen!
called Norbert.

Victor turned to me. “What?”

“It’s my nose,” I said. “He speaks lots of languages. He’s very talented.”

–
Thank you.

“What?” said Victor.

I shrugged. I could already feel myself turning red, and I wasn’t even at school yet.

Or Else What?

We got to the school yard just as the bus pulled up to the curb. I’ve always thought of the school bus as a big yellow sheepdog, rounding up the straggling kids who lived out in the country and delivering them back to the corral every morning. Miranda was the first person off. She lives on a farm – I remember her telling us about it in class – a real farm, with a silo and a barn and everything. They have cows and sheep and a hundred acres of corn. Funny to think of her living in the country and coming into town to school every day. She spends half the week the same way I do, and the other half in a place that’s as strange to me as…well, as Jupiter would be.

“Hey, guys!” she called out. “Hey, Alan, Victor. Wait up.”

I waited, feeling kind of dumb and nervous. I liked Miranda, and had no idea what to say to her. She walked straight up to Victor and said, “Did you have a good weekend?”

Vic nodded.

“Great,” she told him, her brown hair bouncing as she bobbed her head. “And what about you, Alan? Anything interesting happen to you this weekend?”

I shrugged. “Not much,” I said.

“I’m excited about the intramural sign-up,” she said. “Are you guys going to play?”

I’d forgotten about it. Intramural sports – class against class at lunch hour. I didn’t like soccer that much.

“I don’t know,” said Victor. “All that running around.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” She sounded really upset about Victor not playing soccer. Her face was all scrunched up with disappointment.

“You should play, Victor,” she said. “You’d have fun. I’m going to sign up, and I’ve already talked to some of the other guys in our class. Miss Scathely is interested too.”

“Uh huh,” said Victor.

We were walking past the tree that stands in the middle of the school yard. It’s a pretty big tree, but in bad shape. An elm. The leaves are dry and eaten away. A sick tree. One of these days, they’re going to have to take it down. I usually avoid the tree because the bullies from 7L hang out underneath it before school and at lunch hour. A couple of them were there now: Larry and Gary, big guys with flat-top haircuts and tattoos. They were belching at each other – short
sharp sounds. They might have been a couple of seals, except that seals don’t have such mean expressions.

Miranda walked right toward them. Victor stopped short with a nervous gulp. “Well, um, I’ll be seeing you,” he said lamely, and headed toward the school.

I wanted to turn away, but I didn’t want Miranda to think I was afraid of the bullies. She led me right past them. If I’d wanted to, I could have stepped on Gary’s canvas knapsack, which was lying on the ground so you could see the skull picture he’d drawn on it, and read the swearwords. I stepped carefully around the knapsack.

“Watch where you’re walking, Dingwall!” Gary shouted. “Or else!”

Now as you know, there are two responses when someone says “Or else” to you. You can either ignore it, or you can say, “Or else what?” If you’re a bully yourself, you can say, “Or else what?” and then go back and step on the knapsack.

I ignored it.

–
Or else what?
said Norbert over my shoulder.

Miranda stared at me. I kept walking, hoping deep inside that they hadn’t heard Norbert.

“Hey! Hey, Dingwall!”

They’d heard all right. I kept walking.

–
Hay is for horses!
Norbert called back.

“Shut up,” I whispered.

Miranda had her hand to her mouth, like she was hiding a smile. “Gary and Larry are trying to work out what you said,” she giggled.

“I didn’t say anything,” I told her. “It was Norbert.”

Of course she didn’t understand. “That was smart,” she said. “Confusing Gary is better than fighting with him.”

“It’s sure easier,” I said. She laughed.

The bell rang. We moved to the Grade Seven lineup, outside the center doors. “Would you think about playing soccer, Alan?” Miranda asked me. “I’d really like it if you played.”

–
Of course I’ll play
, said Norbert.
Sign me right up!

“That’s great!”

–
For you, I would do anything.

She gasped. I blushed like a carnation.

“What did you say, Alan?”

“Nothing,” I gasped. “Nothing at all.”

“I heard you. You and your funny voice, Alan.”

“It’s my nose,” I explained. “He’s from Jupiter.”

–
On Jupiter, everyone plays soccer.

She blinked. I liked the smile on her face though. She reached over and tapped my nose with her finger. I liked that too.

–
Hey, you’ve made me spill my cocoa.

“Everyone on Jupiter drinks cocoa,” I explained. She laughed and laughed.

Nobody seemed ready to believe in Norbert, but he got people’s attention all right.

I looked over my shoulder. The bullies were bunched together in line. Gary shook his fist at me. I liked attention from Miranda – Gary’s I could do without.

Our cafeteria is small, smelly and noisy. The floor is hard, the chairs are uncomfortable, and the lunch monitor wishes she were somewhere else. Generally I sit over by the window with Victor. Sometimes Nick or Dylan or Andrew will join us – they’re kids in our class. We play cards and tell jokes, and try not to listen to what the girls are saying a few tables over.

Not today. I bought some chocolate milk at the counter, and wandered over to our regular table. About halfway through my first sip of chocolate, I looked up to see Mary staring down at me. And Gary. And Prudence. Generally they eat lunch off school grounds, in the field behind the new subdivision, or else they go to the coffee shop down the road. Somewhere they can smoke. The only places to smoke in the school are in the bathrooms, and I guess they don’t want to eat lunch in a bathroom. Besides, if you’re caught smoking, it’s an hour’s detention.

Before I could swallow my sip of milk, they sat down.

Victor was just coming in. When he saw what was happening at our table, he walked right by, like he didn’t know me. “Hey, Vic!” I shouted. He kept right on walking. What a pal.

The bullies didn’t say anything, not even to each other. Pretty odd. “Hi, guys,” I said, in what I hoped was a normal voice. “How’s it going?”

Nothing. It was going very quietly. Prudence stared at me. She didn’t have any lunch. Mary took a huge bite of what looked like liverwurst and onion and cream cheese on a sesame seed bun – a Big Muck, I guess you could call it.
She stared at me with her piggy little eyes, swallowed a huge mouthful, and belched wetly. I wrinkled my nose. The cafeteria smelled bad enough on its own … it didn’t need Mary’s help.

At the other end of the cafeteria, Nick and Dylan and now Victor were sitting with a bunch of little kids – Grade Sixes. I waved at them. They looked away. I didn’t exist–as far as they were concerned, I was already a corpse. Dead Man Eating.

The monitor walked past our table. An old lady with thinning hair and thick ankles, she was counting to herself, the way she usually did. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. Number of students in the cafeteria, juice boxes on the floor, days since her last holiday – it was hard to say what she was counting.

Gary kicked me under the table. He wore big fat boots with heavy soles. “Hey!” I said. The monitor stopped, stared at me, started walking again. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three. I moved my legs out of range.

“Alan, how are you?” asked a familiar voice.

I looked up. Miranda. I was never so glad to see anyone in my life.

“Hey, good to see you,” I said. I wasn’t tongue-tied at all. I was scared of the bullies. Fear will loosen up anyone’s tongue. I sounded like a game-show host. “Why don’t you join us? Have a seat,” I added, pulling out the one beside me. “Watch out for Gary, though … he gets these sudden spastic movements in his legs.”

Gary choked. I kept right on talking. “Yes, I’ve been
having the time of my life with Groucho, Chico and Harpo here. Actually, with Harpo, Harpo and Harpo.”

Miranda laughed. Mary and Gary growled like the pair of bulldogs they rather resembled. Yes, I was nervous around them, but the whole scene was funny in a way. I mean, were they going to beat us up in the cafeteria, for heaven’s sake? The monitor was ten feet away. The principal’s office was right down the hall.

Prudence reached across the table and took my packet of cookies. Too bad, I’d been looking forward to them. “Help yourself,” I said. “I hope you like chocolate chip.”

All I had left was my apple. I picked it up.

Prudence held the cookies in her hand and slowly crushed them, staring at me the whole time. She dropped the plastic packet on the table. It lay there, hideous and mangled, a poor twisted thing that had once been dessert.

–
That’s the way the cookie crumbles
, Norbert commented.

Prudence was startled. Her eyes narrowed. Then she brought down her fist onto the cookie crumbs. Again and again, as if my dessert were one of those Whack-a-Mole games at the midway. The packaging burst, and brown dust scattered all over the table. She must have been really angry, but none of it showed on her face. Kind of scary. I had a bite of apple in my mouth, but I didn’t feel like chewing. Miranda put her hand on my arm.

The monitor heard the noise and wandered over. “What’s going on?” she asked. She looked irritated … probably because we’d interrupted her counting.

The bullies stood up. Mary’s lunch was all gone. There was a dark stain around her mouth. She licked it obscenely. Prudence leaned over the table.

“You wanted to know, ’Or else what?’” she said softly to me, flicking the broken plastic packet with her fingertip. It spun off the table and onto the floor.

“Pick that up,” the monitor ordered. Prudence stared at the monitor, stared at the packet on the floor.

“That’s what,” she said to me, turning on her heel and heading for the door. Mary and Gary slouched after her.

–
Litterbug, litterbug, fly away home!
Norbert called after them.

The monitor stared at me. “How do you do that?” she asked. “How do you talk in that funny, high voice without moving your lips?”

“It’s not me talking,” I said.