Joey Pigza Loses Control by Jack Gantos Page B

a fit.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” she asked. “Spying for shoplifters?”
    â€œNo, I’m just being a mannequin.”
    â€œI’ve always wanted to do something like that,” she said. “I just didn’t have the nerve.”
    â€œThe only thing you have to worry about,” I whispered, “is that someone will yell at you. But if you are somebody like me, then having someone yell at you is no big deal.”
    â€œWell, you better take your place again,” she said. “You don’t want the clerk to spot you.”
    â€œI’m finished,” I said, stepping down. “Time to move on. Today is my day to see if I can be normal and have fun all at the same time.”
    She gave me a strange look when I said “normal,” like the last thing in the world I was was “normal.” Oh well, I thought, maybe it’s not a good idea to be too normal. It didn’t sound like much fun if it only made you afraid to do the stuff you really wanted to do.

    After I got dressed I went out to the sidewalk, pointed my finger straight out, and spun around with my eyes closed while I sang, “Round and round and round I go, where I stop nobody knows.” When I did stop I was pointing at an ice cream parlor across the street. “My lucky day,” I said to no one in particular.
    While I crossed the street I figured out a little experiment to try. In my mind I picked out the two flavors I would most want on my ice cream cone—chocolate mint and Oreo. But when I went to order I said to the girl, “Give me two scoops of your two most normal flavors.”
    â€œWhat if you don’t like them?” she asked.
    â€œI’ll spit them out,” I replied. “I’m not really hungry for ice cream, this is just a test.”
    She made me pay in advance. Then she gave me a scoop of vanilla and a scoop of chocolate. “These are our two best-selling flavors,” she said, handing the cone to me.
    â€œAre you kidding?” I asked.
    â€œNo,” she said, “the plain flavors are the most popular.”
    Well, I thought as I left, I’m not plain either.
    When I finished my ice cream I closed my eyes and spun around and around and wondered where I’d land next.
    When I stopped and opened my eyes I was pointing at a church with bright red doors. I hadn’t been in a
church since Grandma took me when I was little. I had filled my pockets with marbles and during the sermon they got loose under the pews. They made a loud racket, but nobody laughed like I did. After that, Grandma made me stay home with her to watch church on TV.
    I opened the huge red door and quietly tiptoed up the aisle. The chapel walls were glowing with tall blue-and-red glass windows, and as I walked down the aisle I imagined the dusty shafts of red air and blue air and purple air filling me up inside. And when I breathed out, the same colors swirled around my head. A choir was practicing in the balcony and I took a seat and listened.
    â€œNo, no, no!” the conductor shouted. “Tenors, follow the organ. You’re flat. Now, again.”
    The organ started up so loudly I could feel it buzzing in my feet. The tenors sang and the conductor pointed to another group of singers and they came in. “Stop!” he shouted. “You’re late, altos. Come in crisply after the first measure. Now, again.”
    The organ started, the tenors began, and the altos came in on the correct beat, then a third group, which sang even higher, joined in.
    â€œStop!” shouted the conductor. “Sopranos, take the gum balls out of your mouths. Enunciate! Again.”
    They started up, but soon the conductor lowered his arms. “Stop. Basses, you’ve got to hold the bottom.
Don’t let the tenors pull you into their octave. Again!”
    The conductor continued to start and stop and start and stop the singers and it made me nervous and I began to get a