Chapter 39: Sally Jackson
Confession time: We ditched Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal.
We know, We know. It was rude. But Grover was freaking us out, looking at us like we was dead men, muttering "Why does this always happen?" and "Why does it always have to be sixth grade?"
Whenever he got upset, Grover's bladder acted up, so we weren't surprised when, as soon as we got off the bus, he made us promise to wait for him, then made a beeline for the restroom. Instead of waiting, We both got our suitcase, slipped outside, and caught the first taxi uptown.
"East One-hundred-and-fourth and First," We told the driver.
A word about our mother, before you meet her.
Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which just proves our theory that the best people have the rottenest luck. Her own parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma.
The only good break she ever got was meeting our dad.
We don't have any memories of him, just this sort of warm glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile. Our mom doesn't like to talk about him because it makes her sad. She has no pictures.
See, they weren't married. She told us he was rich and important, and their relationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back.
Lost at sea, our mom told us. Not dead. Lost at sea.
She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised us on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But we knew we weren't easy kids.
Chapter 40: Smelly Gabe
Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk. When we were young, we nicknamed him Smelly Gabe. We're sorry, but it's the truth. The guy reeked like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts.
Between the three of us, we made our mom's life pretty hard. The way smelly Gabe treated her, the way he and us got along . . . well, when we came home is a good example.
We walked into our little apartment, hoping our mom would be home from work. Instead Smelly Gabe was in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blared ESPN. Chips and beer cans were strewn all over the carpet.
Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, "So, you're both home."
"Where's our mom?" "Working," he said. "You got any cash?"
That was it. No Welcome back. Good to see both of you. How has your lives been the last six months?
Gabe had put on weight. He looked like a tuskless walrus in thrift-store clothes. He had about three hairs on his head, all combed over his bald scalp, as if that made him handsome or something.
He managed the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, but he stayed home most of the time. We don't know why he hadn't been fired long before. He just kept on collecting paychecks, spending the money on cigars that made us nauseous, and on beer, of course. Always beer. Whenever we were home, he expected us to provide his gambling funds. He called that our "guys secret." Meaning, if we told our mom, he would punch our lights out.
"We don't have any cash," Percy told him.
He raised a greasy eyebrow.
Gabe could sniff out money like a bloodhound, which was surprising, since his own smell should've covered up everything else.
"Your little brother and you took a taxi from the bus station," he said.
"Probably paid with a twenty. Got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, he ought to carry his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?"
Eddie, the super of the apartment building, looked at us with a twinge of sympathy. "Come on, Gabe," he said. "The kids just got here."
"Am I right?" Gabe repeated.
Eddie scowled into his bowl of pretzels. The other two guys passed gas in harmony.
"Fine," Percy said. Percy dug a wad of dollars out of his pocket and threw the money on the table. "I hope you lose."
"Your report card came, brain boy!" He shouted after us. "I wouldn't act so snooty!"