helmets, crappy rings and necklaces for the girls, all stuff Noel had
somehow outgrown this year.
There’s only a few minutes of recess left. Grab the money and go, hurry!
Only now, staring at the little cash register, did he realize he had nowhere to hide the money. He couldn’t carry it … or
could he? The truth was he didn’t know what would happen because he’d never tried taking something with him into one of his
spells.
The closest he’d ever come was two summers ago in his backyard tree house, where he’d hoarded his Hot Wheels and a good length
of track. He’d built a ramp down, across the yard, to launch his cars into the sandbox where he had dug a pit and filled it
with water for the alligators which would chew the imaginary driver to pieces. He’d been sitting Indian style at the top of
the ramp, the purple Corvette with orange flames running up the hood resting on his palm, when he blinked out. The ’Vette
was suspended in the tree house’s hot and faintly sour wood summer air. He’d picked up another Hot Wheels, and then another,
gliding them, hypnotized by his ability to make the cars fly. By the time he remembered to put one in his pocket and see if
it too disappeared, it was too late. The five- or six-minute spell had elapsed.
Nor had it occurred to Noel that day, at age seven, to ask how the thing that changed him changed hisclothes, too. Only a few weeks later, watching Grover on Sesame Street change into Super Grover, with his cape and metal helmet,
did he consider the ways in which a costume changed you. Like how the cape and helmet seemed to be all Grover needed to become
Super Grover.
Since then, the closest he’d come to understanding his rare and unpredictable visitor was to think of it as a kind of bubble
that concealed everything it contained. The question now was a simple but baffling one: how large was the bubble?
And as crucial – how much could it hide?
Large enough to hide a Nerf football? No, that wouldn’t have worked. The Nerf was too big to fit in your pocket. But what
about something smaller? Say, for instance, a folded wad of dollar bills and a handful of change? After all, his jeans pockets
were hidden inside his jeans, and now his jeans were hidden inside the bubble with him.
Mr Hendren and his class would be back any minute, as soon as the bell rang. This was his big chance. The lights were off
and even if he had been normal, no one would see him do it. The toy cash register had a broken drawer. Noel knew this because
he had seen it and because there was a thick rubber band holding it closed now. He unsnapped the band and the spring-loaded
drawer banged out at him like a square tongue. Inside the drawer was a cigar box with a smiling woman in a slim blue dress
on the lid. Under her was a nice sheaf of paper money. Ones and fives mostly, but at least half aninch of them, plus about thirty quarters and some smaller coins. No time to count it, but it looked like at least thirty bucks,
maybe forty. A fortune.
Noel reached for the drawer as if it were one of the bright red coils on his mom’s electric stove. For a moment he was disoriented
by the darkened classroom and the clumsiness that came with not being able to visually orient his hands and arms in relation
to physical objects. Then his fingers grazed the bills and his tummy fluttered and his face flushed with hot shame.
It’s stealing
.
When he’d been hiding in the teachers’ parking lot, the idea of raiding Mr Hendren’s School Supply & Toy Shoppe hadn’t seem
like stealing at all. He deserved a way out of this mess and the whole school seemed to be standing against him. But now,
on the verge of doing it, he felt like Dean and his parents and Principal Lare-Mo and all of them were watching over his shoulder.
But.
So what if it’s stealing? Wasn’t there something in the Bible about how it was okay to steal bread if you were starving? Didn’t
Jesus want
somehow outgrown this year.
There’s only a few minutes of recess left. Grab the money and go, hurry!
Only now, staring at the little cash register, did he realize he had nowhere to hide the money. He couldn’t carry it … or
could he? The truth was he didn’t know what would happen because he’d never tried taking something with him into one of his
spells.
The closest he’d ever come was two summers ago in his backyard tree house, where he’d hoarded his Hot Wheels and a good length
of track. He’d built a ramp down, across the yard, to launch his cars into the sandbox where he had dug a pit and filled it
with water for the alligators which would chew the imaginary driver to pieces. He’d been sitting Indian style at the top of
the ramp, the purple Corvette with orange flames running up the hood resting on his palm, when he blinked out. The ’Vette
was suspended in the tree house’s hot and faintly sour wood summer air. He’d picked up another Hot Wheels, and then another,
gliding them, hypnotized by his ability to make the cars fly. By the time he remembered to put one in his pocket and see if
it too disappeared, it was too late. The five- or six-minute spell had elapsed.
Nor had it occurred to Noel that day, at age seven, to ask how the thing that changed him changed hisclothes, too. Only a few weeks later, watching Grover on Sesame Street change into Super Grover, with his cape and metal helmet,
did he consider the ways in which a costume changed you. Like how the cape and helmet seemed to be all Grover needed to become
Super Grover.
Since then, the closest he’d come to understanding his rare and unpredictable visitor was to think of it as a kind of bubble
that concealed everything it contained. The question now was a simple but baffling one: how large was the bubble?
And as crucial – how much could it hide?
Large enough to hide a Nerf football? No, that wouldn’t have worked. The Nerf was too big to fit in your pocket. But what
about something smaller? Say, for instance, a folded wad of dollar bills and a handful of change? After all, his jeans pockets
were hidden inside his jeans, and now his jeans were hidden inside the bubble with him.
Mr Hendren and his class would be back any minute, as soon as the bell rang. This was his big chance. The lights were off
and even if he had been normal, no one would see him do it. The toy cash register had a broken drawer. Noel knew this because
he had seen it and because there was a thick rubber band holding it closed now. He unsnapped the band and the spring-loaded
drawer banged out at him like a square tongue. Inside the drawer was a cigar box with a smiling woman in a slim blue dress
on the lid. Under her was a nice sheaf of paper money. Ones and fives mostly, but at least half aninch of them, plus about thirty quarters and some smaller coins. No time to count it, but it looked like at least thirty bucks,
maybe forty. A fortune.
Noel reached for the drawer as if it were one of the bright red coils on his mom’s electric stove. For a moment he was disoriented
by the darkened classroom and the clumsiness that came with not being able to visually orient his hands and arms in relation
to physical objects. Then his fingers grazed the bills and his tummy fluttered and his face flushed with hot shame.
It’s stealing
.
When he’d been hiding in the teachers’ parking lot, the idea of raiding Mr Hendren’s School Supply & Toy Shoppe hadn’t seem
like stealing at all. He deserved a way out of this mess and the whole school seemed to be standing against him. But now,
on the verge of doing it, he felt like Dean and his parents and Principal Lare-Mo and all of them were watching over his shoulder.
But.
So what if it’s stealing? Wasn’t there something in the Bible about how it was okay to steal bread if you were starving? Didn’t
Jesus want
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