The Thing About Luck

CHAPTER TWELVE

The next afternoon the temperature hit 103 degrees. It was also grocery shopping day, but Obaachan said I had to stay home to study and also to take care of my brother. Jaz didn’t have to do anything at all because he was still sick. But he was bored, so I read him A Separate Peace.

“Summer, do you have any other books? This is the most boring book ever written.”

“I have two books about girls.”

“Is that it?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, keep reading.”

I kept reading, listening to my gravelly voice. Maybe someday I could do voice-overs for commercials. That’s what I was thinking about when I realized Jaz had fallen asleep.

We were cooking chili for dinner. I had cleaned and soaked the kidney beans overnight, so I took them out of the fridge. I poured the beans into a big pot and brought them to a boil, then turned them down to a simmer. Even with the air-conditioning, sweat beaded on my face. Mrs. Parker had brought a pressure cooker, but Obaachan didn’t want to use it because she was afraid it might explode. “Pressure most powerful force in world,” she had said. Then she’d seemed to be in an argument with herself: “Of course, nuclear bomb powerful too. But pressure make things blow up, so that just as bad. I think about this and get back to you.”

The beans had to simmer until they were soft. Every so often, I would stir them and check to see if they were ready.

It was kind of relaxing while Obaachan was at the store. I spent my time reading an article that Jiichan had given Jaz and me copies of. He did that sometimes when he happened across something interesting he’d read. The article was called “Opinions and Social Pressure,” and it was dated 1955, first published in Scientific American.

“Opinions and Social Pressure” was kind of hard to understand, but not as hard as you might think. It was pretty straightforward and didn’t use a lot of big words. Basically, it was about research on peer pressure and showed how this kind of pressure could literally change what people saw with their own eyes. They would think a long line on a large white card was short and a short line was long, just because everyone else said so. And once you started down the road of giving in to peer pressure, you couldn’t escape. The research showed this. You might never know what you saw with your own eyes.

I knew Jiichan was making us read this article so we wouldn’t give in to peer pressure. Peer pressure was a big fear of his. And, strangely enough, Jiichan seemed more worried about Jaz than about me. I thought this was odd since Jaz was so different that he would always be completely out of step with the other kids in his class. He could never give in to peer pressure, because he could only be himself. But Jiichan suspected Jaz was more vulnerable, because having a friend made him so happy that he would start to see the world the way the friend told him to if that was the best way to keep this friend.

Obaachan returned from the store in an hour and a half and went straight to our room. I knew she wanted to be with Jaz because he was sick. I chopped the onions and measured out all the ingredients. The onions made me cry like crazy. Supposedly, Monsanto, a huge agricultural biotechnology company, was developing an onion that wouldn’t make you cry when you chopped it. Jiichan had read this in the newspaper and was so upset that Monsanto would change onions into something that weren’t exactly onions anymore that he wrote about twenty different letters to various people and organizations, protesting Monsanto. He got back twenty polite letters that didn’t really commit to one thing or another, then thanked him for his interest.

I cooked and crumbled the ground beef and threw all the ingredients into a giant pot, where it had to simmer for an hour and a half more with occasional stirring. Making chili was a major time commitment.

Because Robbie had kissed me last night, I wanted to get dressed up for dinner, so I changed into the only skirt I’d brought, which was a couple of inches above my knees and the color of the sky. Just before eight p.m., we drove into the field and set up dinner. Rory plunked onto a canvas chair and leaned his head back. “I don’t know why, but I’m just banjaxed today.”

“Ah, quit acting the maggot,” Mick shot back.

“I’m serious. I hope that little fella didn’t give me his germs.”

Jaz was lying in the pickup—he’d wanted to get out of the camper for a while.

“Trying to get yerself a holiday?” Mick asked.

Robbie walked over to the chili pot and filled his bowl. He was totally ignoring me. After the rest of the crew got their food, it was silent for a few minutes as everyone ate. Then Mick muttered, “A bit salty, isn’t it?” That made me feel exhausted, like no matter what I did, it wouldn’t be good enough.

Mrs. Parker said, “Yes, a bit.”

I wished someone would say it was delicious. It was kind of disheartening to spend all afternoon making chili and then see everyone scarf it up in eight minutes and call it too salty.

Anyway. Maybe everyone was eating quickly because this was the last chance to work with the whole crew before some of us headed to Oklahoma. Jiichan started flossing his teeth.

Mrs. Parker looked aghast. “I don’t think that’s really hygienic, Toshiro.”

He looked up. “Excuse me?”

“Jiichan, she wants you to stop flossing in front of everyone,” I explained.

“Oh, oh, my dentist tell me to floss as much as I can. But I stop now.” He seemed genuinely surprised. He looked down at his chili, as if he didn’t know how it had gotten in front of him. Then he stood up and wavered a moment, the chili spilling to the ground. Mr. Parker and I jumped up to steady him. He closed his eyes and leaned against me.

Mr. Parker pushed me away and sat Jiichan in his chair. “What is it?” he asked.

“I feel sick for a minute, but I okay now.” His face did have a pasty cast to it.

Obaachan got up and put her palm on his forehead. “Maybe he sick from Jaz,” she said. “His forehead very hot.” As if on cue, Jaz came out of the pickup just then and joined us in the dining area.

“I don’t want you working any more tonight,” Mrs. Parker decided.

“We need him working. We need to get as much work as possible done tonight,” Mr. Parker retorted.

“I hard worker,” Jiichan piped up. “I can work.”

“I know you’re a hard worker,” Mr. Parker said. “That’s why I want you out there.”

Mrs. Parker looked doubtfully at Jiichan, then said more decisively, “It’s out of the question. Look at the man. His skin is practically gray.”

Jaz blurted out, “Summer can drive a combine. My dad taught her. Even I can drive a tractor, except I’m sick now.” He collapsed into Mick’s lap, smiling strangely. My heart fluttered with fear. It was true I had driven under field conditions twice at the Hillbinkses’ farm near our house. And their combine—though a different model than the Parkers had rented—was also a John Deere. But I hadn’t gone past one mile an hour and my dad had been there the whole time. I doubted I was good enough to go out on my own. I gave Jaz the stink-eye. He jolted out of Mick’s lap and staggered back to the pickup.

“I can’t do it!” I said. “What if I mess up?”

“She no can do,” Obaachan said. “I forbid. She make mistake. She maybe break combine. Maybe hit another combine and break two at same time. Then her mother and father be in debt for rest of life.”

“How much experience do you have?” Mrs. Parker asked, looking at me with interest.

“Five hours,” I answered.

“Has everyone lost their minds? We can’t have a twelve-year-old girl driving a combine!” Mr. Parker said. He turned to Jiichan. “You’re sure you can’t work?”

“Absolutely not!” Mrs. Parker exclaimed.

“Honey, let me talk to the man.”

“I can work,” Jiichan said. “I hard worker.”

“Absolutely not!” Mrs. Parker exclaimed again. She turned to Mr. Parker. They stared at each other for three full seconds.

Suddenly, Mr. Parker’s shoulders drooped and he gave up, mumbling, “Happy wife, happy life.”

The others scattered after our quick meal, heading back to work and casting worried glances at my grandfather as they left.

“You go lie down,” Obaachan told him. Then, even though Jiichan hadn’t uttered a word, she said, “Why you want to argue with me?”

“I don’t feel like lie down.”

“I know you since you seventeen year old. I knew you going to argue with me,” Obaachan said.

“I knew you going to say that,” Jiichan retorted. “You want to argue about everything. You argue more than me.”

“That not true. You argue the most.”

Then they spent the next couple of minutes arguing about arguing. In the end, Jiichan relented and got into the passenger seat.

“I need to work,” he said petulantly. But he closed his eyes and said, “Ahhh,” as if it felt really good to slump down.

After Obaachan and I got Jaz and Jiichan into bed, Obaachan began washing dishes. I dried. “By the way, I decide. Pressure most powerful force on Earth.”

I didn’t answer. When the kitchen was clean, I went outside with a flashlight to walk Thunder before confining him for the night. The field looked barren, like a bomb had been dropped. It was the opposite of the flowing field the workers were cutting. I thought about our skimpy savings and wondered if they would deduct some of Jiichan’s salary because he couldn’t work tonight. And worse yet, what if we got fired?

Thunder galloped through the cut field. He flushed out a rabbit and took off in pursuit. They were both so fast. I stood still to admire Thunder’s muscular black body bounding in the moonlight. He caught the rabbit in his mouth and shook it dead. Back home when he did that, we ate the rabbit meat. Dogs killed rabbits, mosquitoes killed people, and people killed just about anything. But I really thought we all had good souls. That was so deep, I made a mental note of it.

“Thunder!” I called out. He tore back across the field and barreled into me with his dead, bloody rabbit. I took the rabbit inside, where Obaachan was reading a Japanese magazine. “Look what Thunder caught.”

“Rabbit not in Mrs. Parker’s recipes. Get that out of here.”

“Can I cook it for Thunder?”

Obaachan seemed to consider that. “If you clean up after.”

I took out a big knife. “Is there a hammer someplace?” I asked Obaachan.

“Use that,” she said, gesturing to one of the recipe books. “I do it.”

So I rested the knife blade on the rabbit’s ankles, and Obaachan pounded down on the blade, snapping the back feet off. We did that with the front feet and the tail as well. Finally, we did the head. Starting at the ankle, I yanked the rabbit’s skin off. Thunder was whining impatiently next to me. I gutted and rinsed the rabbit, saving the liver. Then I started boiling the meat with carrots and celery.

Obaachan went to check on Jiichan and Jaz. We’d turned down the air conditioner to save energy for the Parkers. But with the stove back on, sweat started to drip down my face and chest. I washed my hands and stepped outside. It didn’t feel much better out there, but at least it was windy. The uncut wheat looked like a flying carpet in the distance.

I stared for a moment at the Parkers’ camper. I decided to go say hi to Robbie, then I decided not to because it was being too forward and he’d been ignoring me. Then I decided to do it after all. I knocked, and Robbie answered. Right behind him was Mr. Laskey’s pretty daughter. I stared at her for a moment. I was so surprised that for a second it was like my whole brain was empty. Then I blurted out to her, “What are you doing here?”

Robbie turned to her and said, “Her grandfather is a combine driver for us.” And from the way he said it, I could tell he meant that I wasn’t important, and neither was my family. I remembered I still had my apron on. I looked down and saw blood and guts on it. Anger and sadness washed over me at the same time, and I was torn between wanting to cry and wanting to shout at him.

Instead, I said calmly, “You didn’t seem bothered by that when you kissed me.” He looked truly surprised, and I felt a surge of triumph.

I walked away, making sure to hold my head high. Jaz was sitting by himself under our “porch” light, his head lolling to the side. “What’s that?” he asked me.

“What’s what? I’m in a bad mood, so don’t bother me. What are you doing up?”

“There’s something on your forehead.”

I wiped at my forehead and found a piece of rabbit guts. That meant I’d had it on my forehead when I went to see Robbie. Wasn’t that wonderful? “Mind your own business!”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: What did I do?” Jaz scratched at his face, then suddenly fell to his knees and started pounding his head on the ground. I grabbed him from behind, enveloping his arms. He was too sick to put up much of a fight, and in a moment he calmed down. Sometimes he did that as a trick, so that I would let go and he could pound his forehead some more. I took a chance and released him. We were both dripping sweat. He lay out on the ground like Obaachan does, then gagged.

“If you’re going to throw up, maybe you should sit up so you don’t choke,” I said. “Why are you even out of bed?”

“I don’t know. I’m sick of being inside. I’m just going to lie here and maybe go to sleep.”

“You can’t sleep out here.”

“Will you carry me inside?”

“I can help you, but I can’t lift you.”

“Then I’m going to lie here.” He closed his eyes and really did seem to be asleep.

I sat on the steps and leaned my head back against the door for a long time. I felt like I didn’t understand a single thing in the whole world. I didn’t understand a single person. I didn’t even understand myself.

I went inside and took Obaachan’s cell phone from her purse. Then I went back outside, away from Jaz, and dialed Melody. One of the combines was driving in for some reason.

“Hi, Mel.”

“Summer! I was just thinking about you. Mr. Lerner had a family emergency so we have a substitute for the rest of the year, and he gives so much homework and he’s so mean. You’re lucky you’re not here.”

“Mel, I kissed a boy.” I spoke urgently but also quietly enough that Jaz couldn’t hear me.

“What?! Who?”

“A boy named Robbie Parker. He’s the son of the people we’re working for. I had a crush on him, and then he must have liked me too because he kissed me.”

“That’s amazing!”

“No, now he likes the girl who lives at the farm here, and he kind of insulted my grandfather.”

“Oh, that’s terrible. What a jerk!”

“And I have to see him all the time for the whole rest of the harvest season. What should I do?”

“Maybe he’ll apologize to you.”

“Nobody can insult my grandfather. I don’t even like him anymore.”

Then the camper door started opening, and I slipped the phone into my pocket.

Obaachan stepped out. “Don’t ever leave stove on when you go out. What I just say?”

“Don’t ever leave the stove on when I go out,” Jaz and I both recited.

The combine that had been heading in finally reached the edge of the wheat field and pulled to a stop. Mrs. Parker climbed down and headed over.

“I was worried about Toshiro and wanted to check on him,” she said. She glanced at Jaz. “Why is he on the ground?” She cocked her head. “And what is that sound?” It was Mel’s little voice talking to me from my apron pocket.

“My husband sleeping already,” Obaachan said.

“Do you think we need a doctor?”

“No doctor. Doctor give you pill and make you drug addict. He get better. Jaz stay sick a long time, but Toshiro never sick long time in his life.”

Mrs. Parker looked thoughtful. “Well, all right, if you think he’ll be fine.” She glanced at Jaz again. “You can’t leave him there.”

“He’s too heavy for me to carry, and he refused to get up unless I carry him,” I explained.

“Well, that’s a problem easily solved,” Mrs. Parker said. She knelt down and, with a huge grunt, pulled Jaz over her shoulder, as if he weighed twenty pounds instead of eighty.

Then she said, “There is that noise again!” Then the noise stopped, and I knew that Mel had hung up.

I held the door open as Mrs. Parker climbed up the three stairs into the camper, grunting all the way. She tried to lay Jaz in a bottom bunk, but she missed and got only one side of his body onto the mattress. His other side, with nothing to support it, pulled him down. He plopped to the floor. “Ahh,” he groaned. “Mrs. Parker, please don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m so sorry, Jaz.”

Jaz slowly pushed himself up and fell into bed.

“Now all of you get some rest. I can’t be worrying about everyone while I’m driving,” she said crisply.

I liked Mrs. Parker. I mean, she was a pain in the neck, but at the same time I knew she was a pain in the neck only because she cared about all of us. I followed her outside. I had a question that I would ordinarily ask my mother. But since Mom wasn’t around, I thought I should ask Mrs. Parker. When we reached her combine, she turned to me. “What is it, Summer?”

“Mrs. Parker?”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever felt humiliated and proud at the same time?” I blurted out.

“It’s the human condition, sweetie,” she said in her no-nonsense voice. “Now you get some rest. It’s late.” She climbed up her combine.

I realized how exhausted I was. Being humiliated and then getting mad had done me in. I went inside, returned Obaachan’s cell phone, and lay down in my bunk, together with my sick, sleeping family, where I felt safe.