Bream Gives Me Hiccups Read online

  THANKSGIVING WITH VEGANS

  Last night, Mom and I went to Thanksgiving dinner at a Vegan family’s house, which is kind of like going to temple for Christmas. Mom said that Vegans are “people who don’t eat any meat or cheese or shave,” and since Mom doesn’t like to cook, she decided that we needed to go to our neighbors’ house for Thanksgiving.

  Thanksgiving used to be my favorite holiday because Mom and Dad and I would drive up to Dad’s parents’ house and Dad and I would roll down the humongous hill in Grandpa’s backyard while Grandma cooked with Mom.

  But when Dad left Mom to be in love with another woman, Mom told me that I was never allowed to speak to Dad’s parents again, which I thought was unfair because they were my grandparents and we have a separate relationship.

  I also used to love Thanksgiving because of the food. Grandma would make a huge turkey with gravy and stuffing, and everyone would make a big deal about Grandpa carving the turkey like he had a special skill that the rest of us could never learn.

  But our neighbors, the Vegans, don’t eat turkey or real gravy and they don’t put marshmallows on top of their sweet potatoes because they said that marshmallows come from horse feet, which I didn’t know and hope is a lie.

  Not only do they not eat turkey, but the Vegans placed framed pictures of two turkeys on their Thanksgiving table with the turkeys’ names underneath, which were “Mable” and “Todd.” It was strange to see pictures of turkeys because no one ever really takes pictures of turkeys, and it was even stranger to see that they had names because no one really names turkeys, especially with a name like “Todd,” which sounds like the name of a boy who asks the teacher for more homework.

  All of the foods were labeled with little turkey-shaped signs, and I remembered the names carefully so that I know to avoid them in future Thanksgivings. The main foods were “Lentil and Mushroom Loaf with Savory Potato Filling” and “Stuffed Maple Tofu” and the side foods were “Gluten-Free(!) Spinach Roasted Fingerlings” and “King Oyster Whipped Sweet Potatoes with Herbs” (and without marshmallows).

  Reading the weird names of the foods, I suddenly missed Dad and I thought that maybe Mom did too even though she always says that she hates him. I think that, even if you hate someone, it’s easy to miss them on the holidays.

  Before we were allowed to eat, we had to go around the room and say what we were thankful for. At Grandma and Grandpa’s house we would do the same thing but more as a joke. It would always be funny and sarcastic, like Grandpa would say, “I’m thankful Grandma didn’t burn the turkey like last year,” and Grandma would say to Grandpa, “I’m thankful that you lost your teeth so that you’ll only be able to eat the sweet potatoes.”

  But the Vegans said things that were sincere, like “family” and “togetherness,” and Mom rolled her eyes at me and I rolled mine back at her and it made me feel good. I like it when Mom rolls her eyes with me because it’s like having a silent secret with someone.

  The Vegan Mom said she was thankful for her “enlightened consciousness” and that it was important to “keep turkeys, like Todd and Mable, in our hearts on this dark holiday.” She said that turkeys are “beautiful and brilliant creatures who like music and dancing,” which seemed kind of strange and probably not true. But then she described how the turkeys are killed and it made me feel really guilty and also nauseous. Before the turkeys are killed, she said, they are packed into tiny cages where they can’t even turn around and, in order to make sure that the turkeys don’t attack each other, they get their beaks and toes cut off with hot blades and then are boiled alive to get their feathers off. I pictured myself in a tight cage, not being able to turn around, and then getting my toes cut off and being boiled alive. Picturing yourself in someone else’s life is called “empathy,” which Mom says I have too much of.

  I thought it was strange that the Vegan Mom described how turkeys were killed to a group of people who were about to eat tofu. It kind of felt like she was trying to sell me the shirt I was already wearing.

  I don’t totally think the Vegan people are so weird. In a way, it is more weird to eat a bird. We would all think it was disgusting to go outside and kill a bird and tear its head off and then stuff its body with croutons and celery and put it in an oven, but for some reason, we think it’s normal to go to a supermarket and buy a turkey and cook it. I guess I’m being hypocritical by eating turkeys and I don’t really know what to think about this.

  I think it’s really sad the way that animals are killed. But it’s also really sad that I used to have Thanksgiving with my grandparents and now I’m not allowed to talk to them because Dad loves someone else. I guess that there are a lot of sad things in the world and sometimes eating turkey with the people you love makes you happy and maybe it would make the turkey happy to know that this was happening with its body. Probably not, but maybe.

  If the turkey really liked music and dancing, maybe it would also like to know that I was rolling down Grandpa’s hill with Dad and then eating its body. Probably not, but maybe. Maybe some things are too difficult for me to understand right now. Probably not, but maybe. That’s why I’m giving the Vegan Thanksgiving 1000 out of 2000 stars.

  MATTHEW’S HOUSE

  Last night, I had dinner at Matthew’s House, which Mom says is a “broken home” because Matthew’s parents are divorced. When I asked Mom if we also lived in a broken home because she is divorced from Dad, she said, “No.” When I asked her what the difference was, she said, “We still have money and all that woman has is rage and infertility.”

  I don’t think Mom likes Matthew’s mom. She always calls her “a slut with a bad nose job,” but I just call her Paula because once I called her “Miss Fisher” and she said, “Just call me Paula.”

  I also think Mom doesn’t like Matthew. She always makes weird jokes like, “In a few years, you two will finally be able to make honest men out of each other.” I thought this was a weird thing to say because Matthew and I are almost always honest and Mom’s the one who always lies. In fact, any time we’re about to meet one of her friends, Mom gives me a list of lies I’m supposed to remember like, “Carol thinks I have a brother in the hospital in Cleveland,” or “Denise doesn’t know about the divorce, she thinks Dad is dead, just go with it.”

  Mom was right about Matthew and Paula not having any money. They don’t even live in a real house; they live in a small weird building that’s connected to other small weird buildings. Matthew calls it a “town house” but Mom calls it “the ghetto.” When I asked Mom what a ghetto is, she told me to ask Esmeralda, the woman who cleans our house on Thursdays.

  And they don’t even own a car. Mom says that Paula gets “sympathy rides” to work in exchange for “HJs.” When I asked Mom what an HJ was, she told me to ask Esmeralda.

  Before dinner, Paula said, “Make sure you boys wash your paws,” and Matthew growled like a lion and they both laughed. I wanted to ask them what they were talking about but I felt embarrassed.

  Paula made a really nice dinner even though it’s what Mom calls an “in-between” meal. An “in-between” meal is food that is not very fancy but also not very cheap. Mom says we shouldn’t eat “in-between” meals. When I’m eating with Mom, we either eat a fancy meal, like when we go to a nice restaurant, or we eat a really cheap meal, like when Mom gives me a can of beans from the pantry and a peppermint candy from her purse for dessert. Mom says that the cheap meals allow us to eat the fancy ones more often and “in-between” meals are a waste.

  But Paula’s meal was “in-between” and also really good. For a salad, she made a basic salad with lettuce but she mixed in interesting fruits like slices of mandarin oranges and cranberries. It was actually really good and Paula said that one bowl of this salad will give us all the fruits and vegetables we need for the day. This seemed like a great idea but also made me think that I do not normally eat enough fruits or vegetables, and I didn’t even realize that this was a thing I should be doing.

 
And for the main dinner, Paula made a quiche, which is like a serious version of pie. It had spinach and egg and cheese and it tasted so good that I asked for seconds, which is something Mom told me to not get in a habit of doing. The bottom of the quiche was doughy and so delicious and melted in my mouth and the sides were crusty like a cookie and the cheese and spinach were melty together in the fluffy egg. I know it sounds really weird but I actually liked the quiche more than real pie, which is what you’re supposed like more.

  When I told Paula how much I liked the quiche, she said in a weird voice that was supposed to sound like a pirate, “Aye, bucko. Ye sure know how to flatter a wench!”

  I didn’t know what she was talking about, so I just said, “Don’t worry. I don’t think you’re a wench.”

  And then Matthew and Paula looked at each other strangely and laughed (at me, I think).

  A few minutes later, when Matthew spilled a little soda on the table, Paula said again in her pirate voice, “Aye! Now you’re going to the brig, matey!”

  And then Matthew said, also in a pirate voice, “Argh! Just when me hunger is arousing the most!”

  And then Paula said, in a different pirate voice, “Ye best be getting a napkin from ye sink to clean up this here soda!”

  Then Matthew said something else in a pirate voice and then they were both talking in pirate voices and laughing.

  I thought that I should maybe talk like a pirate too, but I never practiced that voice so I thought it might come out wrong. And I couldn’t tell if they were laughing at the pirate voice or the lines they were saying, and I was worried that if I just did the voice but didn’t say the right pirate lines, they would think I was stupid.

  And the weirdest part was that Matthew was my best friend but I never heard him do a pirate voice before. Sometimes at school, he pretends he’s a rich woman from the South and it’s so funny. He waves his hand in front of his face like it’s an old-timey fan and says, “That gentleman caller saw me before I put my face on, bless his heart! Now I have the vapors!” It’s so funny.

  But every time Matthew did the pirate voice to Paula, I felt like a “third wheel,” which is an expression I recently learned from Mom. After Dad left Mom, Mom didn’t want to go out to dinner with any of her married friends because she said it made her feel like a “third wheel.” When I asked her what this meant, she told me that a third wheel is “someone who no one loves.” And I could tell that Mom felt really bad about being the third wheel so, the next morning, while Mom was still asleep, I took my tricycle out of the garage and brought it up to her bedroom. And I made a little sign that said, YOU’RE A THIRD WHEEL BUT I LOVE YOU, and I put it on the seat of the tricycle. And when Mom woke up, she called me into the bedroom and she was crying and she hugged me and told me that I was “very sweet” but that I should “take the bike out of the room immediately because it was tracking dirt.”

  This is something Mom always does. She says something nice to me and then yells at me right after. Like she couldn’t just say, “You’re very sweet.” She had to say, “You’re very sweet but take the bike out of my room.” And even though it should make my feelings hurt to be yelled at, I also like it because it’s a pattern that Mom and I have, and it’s ours. And I think it’s kind of similar to the pirate voices. Every relationship has a kind of pattern, I guess, and maybe the pattern is more important than the stuff that makes up the pattern. Like the pirate voice is more important than the pirate lines.

  And I guess even if someone is a terrible person like Mom, they can still be special if you know them well. Like Paula is really normal and doesn’t yell or curse at me, but she’s not My Mother. And sometimes knowing someone really well is more important than liking them. That’s why I’m giving Matthew’s House 219 out of 2000 stars.

  FUDDRUCKERS AND AN UNRELIABLE NEW FRIEND

  Yesterday, Matthew and I went to Fuddruckers, which is a place that sounds like a swear word but actually just sells disgusting hamburgers that you have to make yourself.

  We were supposed to meet someone named Lyle that Matthew met on the Internet. Lyle told Matthew to meet him at Fuddruckers at three o’clock but Matthew insisted that we get there a few minutes early, “just to be polite.” And Lyle told us to come alone, not with our parents, which was fine for me because Mom has been encouraging me to have experiences that “don’t include” her. But Matthew had to lie to his mother so he told her that we had to stay after school for a science project.

  As soon as school ended Matthew grabbed my arm and we snuck out the back door, past the buses, and started walking to Fuddruckers. On the way, Matthew wouldn’t stop talking about his new friend Lyle. They met on the Internet because they were both fans of the band Serial 17, which isn’t even a real band. Serial 17 is just four teenage boys who sing but play no instruments, and Mom taught me that bands like that shouldn’t be called bands because “they only exist to boost the heart rates of fat girls and pederasts.”

  Anyway, Lyle is the president of the Serial 17 fan club and he started emailing Matthew after Matthew posted a picture of himself at a concert. Matthew kept saying that Lyle was “so funny” and “so mature” and that he knew all the lyrics to every Serial 17 song. I wanted to say, “That’s easy. All their songs sound exactly the same,” but I didn’t want to hurt Matthew’s feelings so I just said, “Cool.”

  Matthew had never actually met Lyle in person and I was happy he was taking me to their first meeting, but also a little annoyed by how much Matthew seemed to like him. I know it probably sounds weird to say this, but the more Matthew talked about Lyle the more I started to hate Lyle.

  I knew why Matthew liked him so much. It’s easy to like someone on the Internet. When you’re with someone in person you have to see all of their weird things. Like Matthew cracks his knuckles and it’s kind of annoying. If Lyle knew that Matthew cracked his knuckles maybe he wouldn’t like him, but I know about it and still like him, so that means our friendship is real.

  We got to Fuddruckers at exactly three o’clock and I could tell that Matthew was a little annoyed with me for walking slowly because he said, “You seem like you’re kind of out of shape.” We looked around but there was no other boy sitting alone, so Matthew and I got a table by the window and waited for Lyle. I could tell that Matthew was nervous so I asked, “Do you want me to build us burgers?” because at Fuddruckers you have to build your own burger. But Matthew kind of scowled at me and said in a mean voice, “How would that look to Lyle?”

  I was thinking about how that would look to Lyle when we heard police sirens. I looked outside and saw four police cars screech into the parking lot. Matthew ducked under the table and said, “My mom found out I’m not at school!”

  But then I saw why the police were there: they were forcing a man onto the ground, facedown, and putting him in handcuffs. It was so strange to see somebody be arrested in real life. Usually on TV the person getting arrested is struggling and yelling at the police, but this man was just calmly lying on the ground. Almost like he was waiting to be arrested.

  Matthew started cracking his knuckles. And, for some reason, it calmed me down.

  But then the weirdest thing of all happened. The man stood up in the handcuffs, turned to me and Matthew, saw us through the window, and smiled right at us. It gave us the willies at the same time. The man was so creepy! He was wearing baggy sweatpants and a sweatshirt and there were wet stains on them, like he’d been wearing them for a long time or eating TV dinners in them.

  I whispered to Matthew, “Let’s never come here again.” And Matthew whispered back, “I can’t wait to tell Lyle about this!”

  After the man got taken away, Matthew and I got burgers and waited for Lyle, who never showed up. I was actually relieved, but I didn’t want to make Matthew feel bad so I said, “He probably just got busy with Serial 17 stuff.”

  And Matthew said, “Yeah, he’s the president. Did I tell you that?”

  And I wanted to say, “Yes! You told me tha
t a million times!” But instead, I just said, “Cool.”

  Matthew looked at his watch and said, “If he’s not here in the next fifteen minutes we can go.” So Matthew and I waited but I had a feeling Lyle was not going to show up.

  And it was actually kind of nice to just sit with Matthew. I realized that we hadn’t done that in a while and it made me think that it didn’t matter if Matthew liked Lyle. Even if you’re best friends with someone on the Internet, you can’t just sit with them quietly. And sometimes, when Matthew and I are just sitting with each other quietly, I like him the most. Matthew will crack his knuckles, and even though it makes me nauseous, it also makes me feel like I’m real.

  That’s why I’m giving Fuddruckers 1062 out of 2000 stars and Lyle 97 out of 2000 stars.

  A CRAWFISH BOIL AND DAD’S NEW FAMILY

  Last week I visited Dad and his new family in New Orleans, Louisiana, which is a town that Dad says proves that “poor people are happier than rich people.” And every day I was there, we had the exact same thing for lunch: a crawfish boil.

  A crawfish boil is where you put a lot of weird creatures that look like a cross between shrimps and spiders into a huge pot of boiling water with garlic and corn and potatoes. Then you take the dead crawfish out, remove their heads, peel back their tails, and eat the middle part of their bodies. It takes a really long time to eat a tiny bit of chewy meat.

  And I think the crawfish boil is kind of like Dad’s new life in New Orleans: he works really hard for a tiny reward.

  This is what happened to Dad:

  When Dad left me and Mom, he moved to New Orleans to “find himself.” I didn’t know what that meant, but Mom said he was really just trying to find some “hotter, dumber woman who would steal his money in exchange for making him think he’s still attractive.”