Small Steps - Louis Sachar [6]
“What are you two laughing at?” asked Ginny’s mother, who had come out to the front porch.
“Something,” said Ginny.
Armpit winked at her.
Ginny tried to wink back. She closed and opened both her eyes together.
Even though the two families lived inside it, the house was smaller than most of the homes in west Austin where Armpit planted shrubs and installed irrigation systems. An oak tree in the front yard shaded almost the entire house.
There were few trees this size in west Austin. That half of the city was mostly built on solid white limestone, with only a little bit of topsoil above it. Dirt had to be trucked in whenever Raincreek Irrigation and Landscaping planted anything.
According to Armpit’s father, the cost of air-conditioning the homes in west Austin, with their high ceilings and grand entrances, was greater than the amount he paid in rent.
Armpit’s father worked in the daytime as a meter reader for the electric company. At night he was a dispatcher for a taxicab company. Armpit’s mother worked as a checker for H-E-B, a local supermarket chain.
Armpit said good-bye to Ginny and her mother, then went inside. His parents were in the kitchen chopping vegetables.
“Hey, how’re things goin’?” his father called.
“They’re goin’,” Armpit muttered as he continued down the hall.
“Hold on, I want to talk to you,” said his father.
Armpit sighed. “What about?”
“Just come here.”
Armpit stepped into the kitchen. “Look, I been working all afternoon and I’m hot and dirty and sweaty. Can’t a person just take a shower without going through the third degree?”
“No one’s accusing you of anything,” said his mother. “Your dad hardly gets to see you since he started working for Yellow Cab.”
“Fine, now you can see me,” Armpit said.
“I don’t appreciate your attitude,” said his father.
“Sorry, I’ll change my attitude,” Armpit said. “Whatever that means.”
“What’s wrong with your eyes?” his mother asked him.
“There’s nothing wrong with my eyes. I’m tired.”
“How you get home?” his father asked.
“Hernandez.”
“I want a sample,” his father said.
“Why, because he’s Mexican? Actually, we were working at the mayor’s house. Maybe you think I got stoned with the mayor?”
His mother laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“The mayor shook my hand,” Armpit said. “She said she admired me.”
“What’d she mean by that?” asked Armpit’s mother.
“You know. Working hard, goin’ to school. She’d read about Green Lake.”
“And how does she know you were at Green Lake?” his mother asked.
“I guess my boss told her.”
“That’s supposed to be confidential,” his mother said. “Those records are supposed to be sealed.”
“It’s no big secret! Everybody at school knows.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“I give up!” Armpit said.
Most parents would be proud if the mayor said she admired their son!
“I want a sample,” his father repeated.
“Why, because I’m tired after working all day?”
“No, because you’re being very defensive. If you’ve got nothing to hide . . .”
Armpit marched off to the bathroom, where he got a plastic cup out from under the sink.
After he returned from Camp Green Lake, his parents bought a home drug-testing kit. They weren’t going to stand by and let him ruin his life, like his brother. He had tried pointing out that the reason he’d been sent to Green Lake had nothing to do with drugs or alcohol, but that didn’t make any difference to them.
“Drugs and alcohol can lead to violence,” his mother had said.
So could a bucket of popcorn.
4
Armpit showered again in the morning, dried off, then ran a stick of deodorant three times under each armpit. He splashed his face with aftershave lotion. He only shaved every other day, but he put on aftershave lotion every day.
There was a girl in his speech class who smiled at him a lot lately. Her name was Tatiana.
He sprayed Sploosh on his feet. He didn’t have a problem with foot odor, but when your name was Armpit you had to be extra careful. He sprayed some Sploosh