The Schwa Was Here: Chapters 10–15

They were screaming at each other like the Antonoviches two doors down, who would end our dependence on foreign oil if you could harness the sheer vocal energy of their fights.

I figured I could slip in and out unnoticed. The Antsy Effect was nowhere near as potent as the Schwa Effect, but in my own family, it worked just as well.

Used to be we were inseparable, but cliques are like molecules: They bind together in Mr. Werthog's little test tube until you add something new.

He glanced at my plate, noticing I had eaten my peach cobbler first, so he scooped his onto my plate.

She moved slowly, and methodically, never bumping into anything, but never quickening her pace.

It was the first time I'd ever seen her handicap be a hindrance.

Crawley was sprawled on the shower floor, clutching a towel over himself.

He had always been such a powerful presence, even in his wheelchair. Kind of like Roosevelt, you know? But lying there on the floor, twisted in that awkward position, he seemed frail and helpless.

I ran back to the bathroom, where Lexie still stood by the threshold, her grandfather yelling at her every time she tried to get closer.

Exasperated, Lexie left for the living room.

The paramedics got him up onto the gurney, and as they were wheeling him out, he grabbed my arm.

Crawley let out a single loud guffaw at that. It was the first time I had ever made him laugh.

"You're not the only patient. They'll get to you eventually."
"So will the coroner."

"I'm venerable, not elderly."

"I don't need to. I'm sure it's just a word that's supposed to make 'old' sound good, like they say 'restroom' when they really mean 'bathroom,' and they say 'bathroom' when they really mean 'toilet.'" Then I added, "It's called a euphemism. Look it up."

Then he added, "I just hope Lexie's all right with that lackluster friend of yours."

"How is she walking?"
"I don't know—like a person walks."
"Is she strolling, meandering, stalking?"

This was one of those places famous for, like, fourteen thousand different burgers on the menu, and Lexie charmingly insisted that the manager read every single one of them, like it was his catechism.

"Most people think it's for 'moxie,' the word that means 'gutsy,' but it's not. You see, when I was little and I got sick, that's what I used to say to my parents—'Moxie! Moxie!' Because they always gave me amoxicillin, and I knew it was supposed to make me feel better. So when they brought me a Seeing Eye dog, I called him Moxie, because from the moment I had him, I felt better about being blind."

Most people think it's for 'moxie,' the word that means 'gutsy,' but it's not.

"I'm lucky. It happened early enough that I was able to compensate and adjust. It's harder the older you are."

"Aw, please?" I begged, feeling stupid, but heck, if she could give Moxie a treat when he begged, maybe her compassion extended to two-legged creatures.

It was the head of Manny Bullpucky—slightly dented and singed from our attempt to blow him up, but otherwise completely intact.

I had no idea how long he had been there, or what he had seen. All I know is that the sky up above was a clear ice blue, and so were his eyes. Piercing ice blue.

He seemed calm, but there was this vein pulsing in the translucent skin of his forehead.

See, I know girls and guys who have become masters of manipulation when it came to dating.

"He must be going senile."

The clip bounced on the linoleum floor with a tiny little clatter that I could barely hear over the refrigerator hum.

Lima beans, cauliflower, asparagus. She wasn't back yet. Not in five minutes, not in ten. There were no more vegetables left to name.

I had no idea what the Schwa had in mind, but I didn't like his eerily calm tone of voice. It haunted me all the way home. It was what you might call a "blaze of glory" calm.

Still, we hired Neebly to bring his dowsing talents to the Waldbaum's in Canarsie—the alleged supermarket where the Schwa's alleged mother allegedly vanished.

For this task, his dowsing rods were made of glass. "Glass resonates with the spirit world more than metal," Neebly said.

He thought he found some ectoplasmic slime in the condiment aisle, but it turned out to be relish.

In the end, he found no spiritual vortexes, although he did detect three leaks in the supermarket's plumbing.

"I was working produce then. From my recollection, the mother just left him in the shopping cart. Jeez—I haven't thought about that in years."