Remember Dippy. Shirley Reva Vernick
do you think?” she asked as I piled in.
“It’s…”
“Quite a change, huh?”
“That’s for sure.”
“My friend Holly—she does my hair—well, her niece was there, and she talked me into it. Cost me another parking ticket too,” she laughed, pointing to the fresh violation notice that joined the old ones under her windshield wiper. Aunt Collette always lets a stack of tickets collect there, announcing her bad parking karma to the world, until she gets around to paying them. “You like my new ’do, don’t you, Remember?”
“Nope.” It must be nice to be able to say what-ever you want and not have people get mad at you.
“Well, you know what they say about hair,” she said.
“You’ve gotta comb it every day?” Mem guessed.
“It’ll always grow back,” she said, eying herself in the rear-view mirror as she drove. “And I sure hope it’s true. Now, I’m gonna drop you boys off and run. I’m working late tonight—that darn punk again. But don’t you worry—I’ve got tomorrow off.”
“Yay, tomorrow off!” Mem shouted. “Tomorrow off off!” I wanted to jump for joy too, but I kept quiet.
“Everybody out,” Aunt Collette announced, grinding her wheels against the curb as she pulled up to the house. “You’re on your own for supper, but if you want to stop by the store later, there might be a snack in it for you.”
Mem headed straight inside for The Weather Channel. I planted myself on the porch with my Gameboy and a bag of whole wheat pretzels. There was no sign of Dirk yet, not even a telltale basketball in the driveway, so I figured I could still catch the show. He’d probably be coming out any minute now, and I’d have my moment of glory.
But he didn’t show, not after half an hour, not after a full hour. Maybe it was still too early, or maybe he was out of town. Of course, there was also the possibility that he’d already seen his mailbox and was busy plotting some terrible revenge. I decided to think this over from the safety of the living room.
“It’s gonna be a hot one,” Mem said, pointing to Martin the Meteorologist.
“I know.”
“Wanna go swimming?”
“Maybe later. Hold on, I need to use the phone.” I went to the kitchen and called Reed’s house but only got his voicemail. Mo wasn’t home either, but Jo answered, so at least I got to talk to her. She said Mo was at the lumberyard with their father picking out wood for their new deck. Jo had her friend Patsy over, and they were on their way to Hair by Holly to get their nails painted.
“You just missed my aunt there,” I told her. “Got a hatchet job. Her hair’s short as mine now, plus two shades of weird.”
“Really?” Jo sounded fascinated. “Maybe we’ll stop by the 7-11 on our way. Well, see ya.”
“See ya.” I hung up and ran into the living room. “C’mon, Mem, let’s go visit your mom.” I couldn’t wait around for Dirk the Jerk any longer, not when there might be a chance to “bump into” Jo.
• • •
We were halfway through our 7-11 slushies when Jo and Patsy arrived. Jo looked like she’d walked off the cover of a tennis magazine, with her white skirt, white polo t-shirt and gold skin sizzling in the shafts of sunlight that poured through the windows. This was definitely worth missing Dirk’s face at the mailbox. I opened my mouth to say hi, but Jo and Patsy flew past me and ran straight to the counter.
“Ms. Dippy? Is that you?” Jo gasped.
“In the flesh. You like?”
“It’s outrageous—I love it!”
Patsy said she agreed, and the three of them started rattling on about hair color and how a little change is good for everyone. It was like I wasn’t even there. Not a wave, not a hello, nothing. I might as well have been one of the floor tiles they were standing on.
After a while Mem said, “Hi, Jo!” and she finally tossed us a glance.
“Hey Mem,” she smiled. “How are ya, buddy?”
“How are ya, buddy? Good! How are ya, buddy?”
“Remember, you know these girls?” Aunt Collette asked.
“Nope,” he said. “Just Jo.”
“Well, this is Patsy,” Jo said. “Now you know both of us. So, you guys hanging out?”
“Mem wanted to visit his mom,” I said, and it was true, sort of. He did want to visit her once I suggested it.
“Cool,” she said. “Well, gotta split. See you around?”
“Yeah, I have tomorrow off, so…yeah.” I wanted to say more, but words abandoned me.
“Wishing you blue skies and starry nights,” Mem said, which they apparently thought was adorable. They gave him big waves and cooed, “Same to you,” and said good-bye to him about ten more times before they finally bounced out of the store.
“Nice girls,” commented Aunt Collette.
“Yup, real nice,” Mem agreed, which made Aunt Collette crack up. Then all of a sudden she started acting like she was in a hurry to get back to work.
“Uh, Johnny,” she said, talking fast, “I see Remember has taken over your flip flops. Here, here’s a five spot. Why don’t you two go over to the drugstore and see if you can find yourself a new pair?” She set the money on the counter and started putting on her lipstick, even though she already had a coat of it on. “Go on now, both of you. Shoo.”
She obviously wanted to get rid of us, so I pocketed the money and turned toward the door, which is where I saw The Man for the first time. He was thumbing through the magazines near the cold drink case, sporting a cowboy hat and a flowery Bermuda shirt. He looked around my dad’s age but in better shape, and I think he was trying to grow a mustache. For a minute I thought he might be my old gym teacher, but no, for the life of me, I couldn’t place him.
The Man strolled up to the counter, and Aunt Collette instantly burst into a massive smile. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Aunt Collette looked pretty happy to see him—happy and a little nervous. I started to step closer, but Mem, who didn’t seem to notice The Man at all, was pulling on my arm and begging to go. I stole one last glance at Aunt Collette and gave up.
Mem kept running ahead of me on the sidewalk. “Why’re you so excited about helping me pick out a lousy pair of flip flops?” I asked.
“Cuz. Cuz when you get the new ones, these old ones are definitely mine. Forever.” Talk about simple wants.
When we were opposite Hair By Holly, I said, “Let’s cross the street now.” Mr. Literal instantly darted into the road without looking. I had to yank him back before he got pancaked by a minivan. “Mem, when I say let’s cross now, I mean let’s stop, check for traffic, and go when it’s clear. Get it?”
“Get it?” he said blankly.
“Never mind. Just be careful, will you?”
As we passed Hair by Holly, I could see Jo through the window, sitting at a small table opposite Holly. I wanted to stay and watch, but I’d have died if they spotted me, so I ran to catch up with Mem. Three dollars and twenty-one cents later, I was wearing a pair of lime green flip flops and carrying my sneakers. This time, Patsy was at the manicure table when we walked by, and across the street The Man was unlocking his pick-up truck. I slowed down, trying to get a look at this guy’s license plate—New Jersey—and the sign painted on his truck—Cappellucci Property and something. He took off down the street before I could read the rest.
“Hey Johnny,” Mem said as we drifted along, “let’s