Amphibian (14 page)

I added that to my list. How could Mrs. Reid have clots in her veins that might make her fall on the floor and die and still be fine?

Today at lunchtime, Bird and I managed to get to the swings before anyone else. That's because we sort of cheated. Since Bird lives just behind the school and through the woods, I had a note from my mother that I could go home to eat lunch with Bird because I told her Bird's mother had invited me. She believed me because I'm getting to be a good liar.

The reason I'm getting to be a good liar is because now I don't see the point of not lying. Everybody else does it, and the evidence is my List of Lies. I figure that if you're the only person who doesn't lie in a world full of liars, then you're at a definite disadvantage.

When I started thinking about it, I wasn't surprised that humans lie because animals do too. Mostly it's one species lying to another so that they don't get eaten. For example, a plover will pretend to have a broken wing if a predator comes too close to her nest. The predator chases her as she runs, and then when he's away from the nest, she flies back to her babies.

Sometimes lying goes on between members of the same species too. When a chimp finds some food and he knows another chimp is watching, he'll sometimes pretend not to see the food and walk right on by it. And one time a primatologist saw an old alpha male limping badly after a fight with the new alpha male, but as soon as he got out of his sight, he stopped limping. Because he looked weak and submissive, that likely saved him from being beat up again.

Humans are the species most likely to lie, though. I figure that's because they're the ones doing most of the talking.

The thing is, Bird's mother didn't know we were supposed to go to her house for lunch because Bird doesn't need a note from his mother to go home. So what we actually did was go into the woods between the school and Bird's house and eat the things we had stuffed in our pockets. I ate a bag of Teddy Grahams and a granola bar and Bird ate a bag of peanuts (which we're not allowed to
eat
at school but nobody said anything about having them in your pocket) and a cheese string. We ate as fast as we could, which
wasn't easy because we were laughing so hard about the trick we had played on everyone. I told Bird not to laugh with peanuts in his mouth because I figured a peanut is about the right size for a windpipe and I wasn't strong enough to hang him upside down, like what my mother did to me when I choked on a raisin.

After we ate, we ran back to the school playground and jumped on the two best swings before anyone else was even outside. As we swung, I asked Bird if he thought it was possible that climate change could heat the earth up to the point that we all boiled. He said he couldn't imagine that so he figured it wasn't possible. Then I asked him if he could imagine sneezing non-stop for days and he said no, he couldn't imagine that either. Then I told him that a fourteen-year-old girl started sneezing one day and didn't stop for nine months and that a man started hiccupping one day and didn't stop for thirty years. He said that would likely hurt. I figured it would too – just like boiling to death.

When the other kids got out to the playground, they were surprised to see that Bird and I were already there, but nobody asked us how we did it. By that time, we had gotten tired of swinging and were by the big apple tree. I asked Bird if he was worried about the melting of the polar ice cap and the permafrost. He said he wasn't. I told him I was worried and asked him why he wasn't.

‘Because I never really thought about it.'

‘Now's a good time to start.'

‘Okay, I'll try to be worried about it too.'

I could tell that Bird wasn't really worried, but it made me feel better that he said he'd at least try.

Today I played with Fiddledee a lot because I made her a new cat toy. I made it out of an old slipper that Grammie knit me when I was five. It started to unravel so I pulled it around and Fiddledee jumped after it for more than half an hour. I could tell she was really excited because she did things like race around and then lie on the floor and play attack her back paws.

I asked my mom if she thinks Fiddledee has lost any more weight since we took her to see Dr. Karnes. She said she doesn't think so. I picked her up, though, and she seemed lighter to me, but it might just be my imagination. I think it must be weird to be a cat because you get picked up all the time. Can you imagine just walking across the floor and all of a sudden you're scooped up and put down someplace you might not want to be by a creature ten times bigger than you are? That would be weird.

I keep looking in Fiddledee's litter box for red in her poop but so far, so good. My mom thinks that the red we saw before might have been from something she ate. But I'm still a bit worried about her.

After Fiddledee had calmed down from playing with the new cat toy, she climbed up onto my lap and lay down and purred really loud. Fiddledee always seems happy but I wonder if she ever gets depressed, like my mom did after my parents got separated and after Granddad died.

I bet Fiddledee's brain had the happiness chemical when she was on my lap purring. Animals have the exact same emotion chemicals in their brains as humans. I patted Fiddledee as I thought about this and she looked up at me and slowly blinked. Along with happiness, I'm sure she had love in her eyes.

I think it's weird that scientists do all sorts of experiments on animals to learn more about humans, but some of them think that the stuff we know about humans doesn't apply to other animals. That's like bumping heads with someone super hard and even though it really hurts, you say you can't believe that the other person's head hurts too.

I think that since humans evolved from other animals, it only makes logical sense that emotions are gifts to humans – gifts from the other animals.

Tomorrow is Wonderful Wednesday. It's the day to put Mission Amphibian into action. Tomorrow Cuddles will be freed by Bird and me!

When I first went to bed tonight, I lay thinking about how I hope nothing goes wrong. I went over the plan sixteen times in my head. I got up out of bed and triple-checked what Bird and I had written down. I got back in bed and went over it six more times in my head. It was driving me crazy – it felt as though I was caught in a thought maze and couldn't get out.

I considered going into my mother's bedroom so that I could just stop thinking and go to sleep. Even though she's making me more worried, at night she makes me feel calmer. But then I thought how she wants me to stay in my own bed and that she and Dr. Barrett say that I am too old now to need to sleep with somebody. But then I thought about how all other young mammals sleep with their mothers. And then I thought about how even human adults get to sleep with somebody, like when they're married. How come kids don't get to sleep with somebody too?

I gave in and went into my mother's room. She was reading a book with her eyes closed. I sneaked quietly into her bed, but not quietly enough. She said, ‘For the love of God, Phin, why can't you just stay in your own bed?'

I said, ‘Because I'm worried and you make me feel better.'

She didn't say anything.

Then I said, ‘Mom, I'll give you a loonie if you let me stay.'

She sighed but then she turned off the light, pulled me toward her and hugged me.

But I still couldn't get to sleep.

Mission Amphibian was slated for very last period. All day long my stomach was jumping around so much I thought it might get loose and fall into whatever's below it – my bowel, I think. I just couldn't get frog off my brain.

I kept looking at Bird at the front of the classroom, and he kept half standing up and turning around to look at me.

Once he got in trouble for that. Mrs. Wardman said, ‘Richard, sit still and concentrate, and stop looking all agog!'

Bird said, ‘I wasn't looking at the frog, Mrs. Wardman, honest.'

Mrs. Wardman just gave him a funny look. Bird obviously had frog on his brain too.

I also kept sneaking peeks at Cuddles, who was behind me in his aquarium. I made mental comparisons between him and the rubber frog we were going to put in his place. Although they were both about the same size, I was concerned about the rubber frog being brown. I sure hoped none of the kids or Mrs. Wardman would notice it was a fraud frog before Bird and I managed to get out the door.

I was also concerned about my lunch bag. That morning while my mother was in the shower, I poked holes in it with a sharp pair of scissors. They went through the black outside part easy enough but then I had to push hard to get them through the inside silver part. I only had time to make four holes before I heard the bathroom door open. I quickly put my lunch bag into my back-pack. I figure that when my mother sees the holes I'll be in trouble. I'll have to think of a reason for them that has nothing to do with a frog.

At recess, Bird and I went through our plan again. Actually, we went through it eleven times. We both had to memorize the steps. Bird was worried about the fake fraud frog too, but he figured nobody will notice. The kids were excited about Cuddles when we first got him, but lately pretty much nobody bothers to look at him except for me and sometimes Bird.

At noon hour, Bird and I pre-enacted what we were going to do. We made a square with some rocks and put a large rock in the centre and pretended that was Cuddles in his aquarium. We filled a pop can that we found in the soccer field with sticks and put it about four feet away from the aquarium and pretended that it was the jar of paintbrushes that Bird is going to knock over to create the diversion. Then Bird gave me the signal – which is sticking his pointer finger in his right ear – that he was about to knock over the can. This meant that I should walk over to Cuddles' pretend aquarium and get ready for the exchange by reaching into my
pocket for the fake fraud frog, which was another rock. I waited till Bird pushed over the can, and then I quickly put the fraud frog rock down and scooped up the Cuddles rock.

We didn't pre-enact the next part but I knew it by heart. I'm supposed to go out to the cubbies while Mrs. Wardman is busy with the paintbrushes and put Cuddles into my lunch bag and then sneak back into the classroom. By this time, the bell should ring and Cuddles should be free. As long as we time this to happen exactly at 2:55, the bell and the sounds of all the kids getting ready to go home should drown out the noises that Cuddles may make inside my lunch bag.

The classes after lunch were in super slow motion. The only out-of-the-ordinary thing that sped it up a little bit was Becky getting sick in the classroom sink and all over the floor. The custodian came in and sprinkled some white powder on it and then mopped it up. It had a horrible smell, and Becky looked like she was going to cry, especially after Lyle said, ‘Ooooh, I'll never use that sink again. Disgusting.'

Maybe nobody will use that sink again. That wouldn't surprise me because once a fifth-grader threw up in the water fountain by the lobby and now nearly everybody still fights to use the water fountain by the gym – even though the kid who threw up in it is likely in eleventh grade by now. Every new kid who comes to our school is told about the barf that used to be in the lobby water fountain.

I watched the clock tick to 2:00, time for Wonderful Wednesday. Mrs. Wardman said, ‘Okay, boys and girls, let's get our smocks on.' Bird and I looked at each other. I couldn't tell that he was nervous, and I hoped nobody could tell that I was. My palms were so sweaty that I doubted I'd even be able to hold on to a paintbrush.

Mrs. Wardman gave us all big pieces of thick paper and told us the theme today was to illustrate a song from music class that we liked. I thought and thought, but I couldn't even think of a song we did in music class, let alone one I liked – my brain felt like it was bouncing and bits of thoughts didn't have a chance to stick in one place long enough to form into whole ones.

After a few minutes, I looked over at what Laura was painting. She had written the words ‘You Are My Sunshine' and was painting a sun. On the other side of me Jane was drawing a rabbit with long ears because her song was ‘Do Your Ears Hang Low?' It was then that I felt the crazy laugh in my chest.

When I get really, really stressed out, I start to crazy-laugh. For example, when my mother told me that my grandfather was really sick and was going to die, I started crazy-laughing. I don't know why – it wasn't that I found that the least bit funny – it's just something really weird that happens to me. And when I start to crazy-laugh, it's like I'm floating up above myself with a bird's-eye view, watching and thinking, ‘Stop it! Stop it!' but I can't. And if someone looks at me like I've gone crazy, that makes me crazy-laugh even harder.

When I looked at Jane's rabbit with its ears on the ground, I could feel the crazy laugh starting in my belly and working its way up my esophagus and into my throat. I puffed my cheeks and tried to swallow it back down, but it was no use. I started to laugh really hard.

Everybody looked at me and Mrs. Wardman said, ‘Phin! Why are you laughing?' But I was laughing so hard I couldn't say anything – and I wouldn't have known what to say anyway. Mrs. Wardman said, ‘Phin! Stop that right now and get to work.' This made me laugh even harder. I laughed so hard my face was covered in tears and my chest was starting to hurt. A lot of the other kids started laughing too, which made me laugh even harder, even though it really hurt. Even Mrs. Wardman started to laugh.

Then Mrs. Wardman said, ‘Phin, okay, that's enough. Now please go out and get a drink to calm yourself down.'

I got up and ran to the water fountain in the lobby – even though I prefer the one next to the gymnasium too – because it was closer. I took a big gulp of water and then laughed again, which made the water run out of my nose. Finally, I stopped laughing. Water up your nose hurts, and it makes your eyes water. I once saw a show where a man who didn't have an eye could stick his finger up his nose and wiggle it through his eye socket.