bright and funny.
Money money money
Funny funny funny
Bunny bunny bunny
Honey honey honey...
A minute later Turtle was howling. He loves to sing along with Fudge. I was glad Uncle Feather was still on strike. A trio would have been more than I could take tonight.
If I'd gone to bed then, I'd probably have been okay--annoyed, but okay. I mean, suppose The Simpsons were on tonight and I wanted to watch? Our only TV is in the living room. Then I started thinking, Wait a minute... suppose my science teacher told us to watch a show on the Discovery Channel and we were going to discuss it in class tomorrow? She did that once. But this time I wouldn't be able to answer her questions. My teacher would say, "You should have told me you don't have a TV, Peter." Then Sheila Tubman's hand would shoot up. "I happen to know the Hatchers
137
have a TV, Ms. DeFeo," she'd blab. "It's in their living room." Then I'd have to explain that I couldn't watch because our living room had been turned into a sleepaway camp. "What camp is that?" Ms. DeFeo would ask. And I'd have to think fast to come up with some name. "Camp Howie-Wowie," I'd tell her. Then everyone would laugh.
The longer I thought about it, the more worked up I got. My heart started beating faster, my mouth felt dried out, and the palms of my hands were getting clammy. Still, I couldn't tear myself away from the sleeping Howies. It was like one of those bad dreams where you want to run but you can't. It was like my feet were glued to the floor. I could feel the anger boiling up inside me. Any second I would burst and it would come pouring out like lava from a volcano. Just go to bed, I kept telling myself. But my feet refused to listen to my brain.
Finally, I forced myself to break away. I tore down the hall to the bathroom, shut the door behind me, and leaned against it. But when I saw the five toothbrushes lined up in a row, the five towels hanging from the towel bar, and the five hairbrushes--not to mention the giant, economy-size bottle of vitamins--I just lost it. I mean, totally! I grabbed the towels and threw them to the floor, one after the other. Then I trampled them, like I was trying to kill some gigantic roach.
138
Aaaggghhhh... This strangled sound came from deep inside me as I swept their hairbrushes off the counter. I kicked at them as if they were poisonous snakes. Aaaggghhhh ... I'd turned into a raving lunatic. No, even worse--I'd turned into my brother at the shoe store! Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My face was red, my eyes wild. I looked like some demented guy in a scary movie. In the back of my mind I heard Cousin Howie asking, What do we do when we get carried away?
And the Natural Beauties answering, We stop and count to ten.
And if that doesn't work?
We count to ten again.
So I started to count. When I got to ten I took a deep breath, then started all over again. In the mirror I saw my facial expression return to normal. I couldn't believe I'd used Cousin Howie's method to control my anger. Or that it actually worked. But it did. I shook out the five towels and hung them up again. Probably no one would notice since they were dark gray. There are other ways to handle this situation, I told myself, as I lined up their hairbrushes.
I marched down the hall to Mom and Dad's room and pushed open the door without knocking. "How do we know these people are who they say they are?" I said.
139
Mom was stretched out on her bed, her hands over her eyes. "What?"
"The Howies. They could be anybody. A week ago we didn't even know they existed and now they're sleeping on our living-room floor."
"But they have the Hatcher jaw, don't they?" Mom said.
"I don't see any Hatcher jaw," I said. "Do you?"
"Well, I thought I did." Mom looked worried for a second. Then she shook her head and waved her hand. "Oh, this is silly. Of course they're Dad's cousins."
"Hey, it's okay with me if you want five strangers sleeping on our living-room
Money money money
Funny funny funny
Bunny bunny bunny
Honey honey honey...
A minute later Turtle was howling. He loves to sing along with Fudge. I was glad Uncle Feather was still on strike. A trio would have been more than I could take tonight.
If I'd gone to bed then, I'd probably have been okay--annoyed, but okay. I mean, suppose The Simpsons were on tonight and I wanted to watch? Our only TV is in the living room. Then I started thinking, Wait a minute... suppose my science teacher told us to watch a show on the Discovery Channel and we were going to discuss it in class tomorrow? She did that once. But this time I wouldn't be able to answer her questions. My teacher would say, "You should have told me you don't have a TV, Peter." Then Sheila Tubman's hand would shoot up. "I happen to know the Hatchers
137
have a TV, Ms. DeFeo," she'd blab. "It's in their living room." Then I'd have to explain that I couldn't watch because our living room had been turned into a sleepaway camp. "What camp is that?" Ms. DeFeo would ask. And I'd have to think fast to come up with some name. "Camp Howie-Wowie," I'd tell her. Then everyone would laugh.
The longer I thought about it, the more worked up I got. My heart started beating faster, my mouth felt dried out, and the palms of my hands were getting clammy. Still, I couldn't tear myself away from the sleeping Howies. It was like one of those bad dreams where you want to run but you can't. It was like my feet were glued to the floor. I could feel the anger boiling up inside me. Any second I would burst and it would come pouring out like lava from a volcano. Just go to bed, I kept telling myself. But my feet refused to listen to my brain.
Finally, I forced myself to break away. I tore down the hall to the bathroom, shut the door behind me, and leaned against it. But when I saw the five toothbrushes lined up in a row, the five towels hanging from the towel bar, and the five hairbrushes--not to mention the giant, economy-size bottle of vitamins--I just lost it. I mean, totally! I grabbed the towels and threw them to the floor, one after the other. Then I trampled them, like I was trying to kill some gigantic roach.
138
Aaaggghhhh... This strangled sound came from deep inside me as I swept their hairbrushes off the counter. I kicked at them as if they were poisonous snakes. Aaaggghhhh ... I'd turned into a raving lunatic. No, even worse--I'd turned into my brother at the shoe store! Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My face was red, my eyes wild. I looked like some demented guy in a scary movie. In the back of my mind I heard Cousin Howie asking, What do we do when we get carried away?
And the Natural Beauties answering, We stop and count to ten.
And if that doesn't work?
We count to ten again.
So I started to count. When I got to ten I took a deep breath, then started all over again. In the mirror I saw my facial expression return to normal. I couldn't believe I'd used Cousin Howie's method to control my anger. Or that it actually worked. But it did. I shook out the five towels and hung them up again. Probably no one would notice since they were dark gray. There are other ways to handle this situation, I told myself, as I lined up their hairbrushes.
I marched down the hall to Mom and Dad's room and pushed open the door without knocking. "How do we know these people are who they say they are?" I said.
139
Mom was stretched out on her bed, her hands over her eyes. "What?"
"The Howies. They could be anybody. A week ago we didn't even know they existed and now they're sleeping on our living-room floor."
"But they have the Hatcher jaw, don't they?" Mom said.
"I don't see any Hatcher jaw," I said. "Do you?"
"Well, I thought I did." Mom looked worried for a second. Then she shook her head and waved her hand. "Oh, this is silly. Of course they're Dad's cousins."
"Hey, it's okay with me if you want five strangers sleeping on our living-room
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