My Life in Dioramas by Tara Altebrando Page A

to live in a house that had no nooks or crannies for wasps to make homes in or for rodents to die in. Maybe we’d downsize to a sleek apartment on the high floor of a building in some cute downtown area.
    Then something out the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the room caught my eye. I got up and spotted a flock of wild turkeys parading along the edge of the woods by thestream. They looked like visitors from another planet. I wanted to know if they knew their destination, and how they had all learned to stay together like that. Did any one of them ever just decide to up and move away to start anew? They disappeared down the stream toward the Nickersons’ house.
    I wondered if Pants had seen them, maybe hidden behind a tree.
    I knew I was only delaying the inevitable.
    I knew the day would come when the sale would happen.
    I knew I wasn’t going to miss the bees or dead flies—and I definitely wasn’t going to miss the stinkbugs or Troy, who sometimes came home at midnight with the radio THAT LOUD—but I was going to miss the way living at Big Red was always at least a little bit interesting, and sometimes just plain beautiful.
    I went into my room and pulled out the dance troupe permission slip and forged my mom’s signature. Why should I be the only one who couldn’t do it?
    Down in the arts room, I made a diorama of my parents’ room, drawing knotty shapes on wooden sticks on the ceiling and putting the three of us in bed—with me as a little kid, half their size—looking up in wonder.

11.
    It was one of those weird things about us that Naveen and I barely talked on the bus. For whatever reason, seating was all boys with boys and girls with girls, and you mostly talked to who you sat with and no one thought to mess with that, not even me. I’d told Stella that the stink had been effective, but she didn’t seem impressed so it wasn’t until lunchtime that I got to enjoy my success.
    â€œIt worked!” I said to Naveen, as Stella wandered over to the lunch line. I held up a hand, which he high-fived, grabbed, and held for a second. His hand was warm, soft. “People were totally grossed out.”
    â€œExcellent,” Naveen said. “So what’s next?”
    â€œThere’s another open house next weekend.” My hand felt tingly from his.
    â€œSo you’ll need more cow pie?” He rubbed his hands together.
    It was cute how excited Naveen was, considering the topic.
    â€œOr did you save it?” he asked.
    â€œYikes. I threw the bag into the woods.” I hadn’t actually thought to save it. Though I guessed that it would have been smart. I could probably find it again. Because the idea of going back to Depler’s wasn’t exactly thrilling.
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I should mix it up. Do something different so Bernie doesn’t catch on.”
    â€œBernie?”
    â€œThe realtor’s name is Bernadette but Bernie makes her seem like a less worthy foe.”
    Naveen laughed. “Kate: one. Bernie: zip.”
    â€œExactly.” I reached into my bag to find the list of things that smell. “What else was on that list of yours?”
    I didn’t even need to find the paper.
    â€œSpoiled food,” Naveen said. “Dead animals. Mildew. Cigarettes.”
    â€œThe dead animal thing could work. If we could find one. Sometimes there are dead moles in the yard, but I don’t know.”
    â€œIt’s not the most reliable plan,” he said, “without the rodent in hand for a proper assessment of the stench potential.”
    Stench potential! Where did he even get this?
    â€œThere are flies coming into my parents’ room. So it seems something dead is already around. Maybe I can find it?”
    â€œUpstairs in the crazy room with no real walls?” Naveen furrowed his brow. “So the dead thing is probably in the roof?”
    It wasn’t ideal. Even