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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright 2015 by A.S. King
Illustrations copyright 2015 by Wendy Xu
Cover design by Liz Casal and Maggie Edkins
Cover 2015 Hachette Book Group, Inc.
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First ebook edition: September 2015
ISBN 978-0-316-33407-5
E3
For Andrea Spooner
What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have yet to be discovered.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Gustav is building a helicopter. Nobody knows because Gustav has been building it in small sections. He understands things like the physics of flight. He understands vectors.
I could never understand a science that doesnt relate to humans or biology; but Gustav tells me his helicopter will be better than a stupid human.
He says, Can you fly?
Gustav believes his helicopter is invisible, and because he believes it, it is so.
There are two seats in Gustavs invisible helicopter so he can take a passenger. There is space behind the seats so he can take a backpack. Snacks. A camera. A helicopter map. Maybe a parachute. Maybe no parachute. It probably depends on his destination.
This isnt some dumb mini-helicopter kit, he said when he explained it at first. It cost me fifty grand.
Where did you get that kind of money? I asked.
None of your business, he said.
Gustav is building a red helicopter. Its not invisible. If I want, I can see it on Tuesdays. Other people can see it on other days, but I can only see it on Tuesdays, which is when the #10 combo is the dinner special at Las Hermanas. My favorite. Dos enchiladas. Always get the red sauce. The green will burn your eyes out.
Gustav lives three blocks from Las Hermanas, so I stop by and see the helicopter on my way home. He is making good progress.
Mama says Gustav is mad crazy. I think hes a genius. I think Mama is jealous. I think she would build a helicopter and take off as soon as she could if she could, but she cant so she doesnt and she says lies about Gustav like That boy isnt right in the head or Hes going to end up in the looney tunes if hes not careful.
Mama and Pop went on a trip this week. Usually they save the trips for weekends or summer vacation with me, but they said they wanted to go alone and asked if I could heat up my own TV dinners and stay safe overnight by myself. Im a senior in high school. Raised by them. I heat up my own TV dinners and stay safe overnight every day by myself. I didnt say it that way to them, though. I just said yes.
So on Tuesday morning, they set their GPS for Newtown, Connecticut. Thats where the 2013 Sandy Hook massacre was. I bet you could scan Mamas camera and I bet youd find pictures of all the landmarks that were on TV. The firehouse. The neighbors house. The schools parking lot. I bet youd find a hundred damp, balled-up tissues on the floor of Pops Buick, too.
Its like theyre mourning the loss of me and Im still alive. Its like theyre mourning the loss of something bigger than all of us and they take me with them to show me the hole. Ive already been to Columbine, Virginia Tech, the site of that Amish school, and Red Lake, Minnesota. We even flew to Dunblane, Scotland, when I was ten.
I own the most morbid snow globe collection in the world.
For what its worth, I cant lay one more cheap bouquet of flowers by a memorial. I cant light one more candle. I cant count out twenty fluffy teddy bears that will only wilt under the Connecticut winter snows.
For what its worth, I sobbed for three days after that guy shot up those kids in Newtown. I stopped using tissues because my nose got so raw. I didnt shower. I didnt talk. I didnt breathe, hardly. Call me emotional or a drama queen and I dont care. Ill tell you again: I fucking sobbed.
Then I dissected a frog.
It didnt make me feel any better, but it made me stop crying.
1. Place frog in tray, ventral side up.
2. With forceps, lift the skin of the lower abdomen. Cut with scissors.
3. Slide scissors into the opening and cut to below the lower jaw.
4. Cut the sides just posterior to the forelimbs and anterior to the hind limbs.
This is my seventh frog dissection this year. Mr. Bio lets me help with the freshmen if theyre dissecting. I am the best frog surgeon he knows. Thats our joke. I bet hed make me a name tag that says BEST FROG SURGEON if he could, but hes not very artistic. Im his assistant, and I help hand out the forceps and scalpels while the students get into their lab coats and put on their goggles. I cant actually hand out the frogs, though, because Im always surprised by how dead they are.
Lifeless.
Gray-green.
Bred so we could cut them open and find their livers and draw them for points in a notebook.
Mr. Bio told me in ninth grade, Youre going to make an excellent doctor one day.
Thats the plan, I said.
Its a good plan.
I want to help people, I said.
Good.
I know I cant help everybody, but even if I can help just one person, you know?
Yep, he said.
Im thinking about going into the army, I said.
Mr. Bio made a horrible face. Why?
Did you ever watch M*A*S*H? I answered. M*A*S*H is a late-twentieth-century TV show about a mobile army surgical hospital unit during the Korean War. It reruns on cable a lot. The main character is Benjamin Franklin Hawkeye Pierce. Hes a surgeon from Maine.
Of course, Mr. Bio said. I grew up with M*A*S*H.
Thats why, I said. I didnt tell him Hawkeye Pierce is my mother. No one would understand that. Hawkeye Pierce was a man. A fictional man. Most people would think he couldnt be anyones mother. Except hes mine. He puts me to bed every night. He makes my dinner. He teaches me about the world and hes always honest.