Pickle, p.12
Pickle, page 12
“I’m going to throw the trash away and check out the exhibits,” Sienna said. She grabbed a box from under the table and left. She still looked upset, and she didn’t invite anyone to go with her.
“Has anyone tasted this stuff? To see if it’s any good?” Bean asked. We hadn’t. They wanted me to try it, but I thought we should all sample it. It was too late if the escabeche was nasty, but at least we would know. It tasted like sour chile garlic. I know it sounds weird, but it was kind of delicious. Bean and Oliver stopped after one bite, but Frank and I had some more with chips. Then Frank made me stop eating for a minute so that he could take pictures for the pickle page of the website. Good thinking.
We walked around to check out the competition. The other displays in our section were just plain old jars of pickles with a couple sliced up on a plate. Some had a bit of rag tied around the top of the jar, or handmade labels. Ours definitely had the most style.
42
The Fair
The Pioneer Fair instructions said to be by our display at 10:30 for judging, so we headed back fifteen minutes early. Principal Lebonsky stood in front of our table, looking down at the escabeche. She didn’t look up when I walked over, but she sighed the way people do when they know someone is watching.
“I thought we had decided that you’d be entering pickled eggs into the competition, Ben.” I gave up all thoughts of escape and moved toward the table. She looked like the escabeche smelled. I mean, it did, but she was really making an effort to make that bad-smell face.
“We did. But … they didn’t turn out like we hoped.”
“Well, did you follow my recipe?” She cocked her head and fake-smiled. She didn’t blink while she waited for an answer. I broke eye contact and looked around. The pickle makers had split. When we signed in, the Pioneer Fair people had said, “a group representative should be present to offer tastings and share information.” I guess that was me.
“We did, I mean, we thought we did. I guess we got the recipe wrong.”
“How can you bungle pickled eggs?” Principal Lebonsky’s bottom lip turned and puckered like dried fruit. “I gave you a very simple recipe, Ben.” I saw Frank and Bean heading into the Colonist Craft Coliseum. Oliver looked away when I spotted him and pretended to be totally fascinated with some dried apple ring wreaths at the other end of the aisle.
“I expected you to provide an authentic example of what local pioneers might have made,” she said.
“This is authentic,” I said. I wished that we had just brought the plastic eggs that Hector had switched for the real ones. I cleared my throat. “Maybe not for your forefathers, but for mine. And a lot of other kids at school. I looked it up.” Principal Lebonsky didn’t interrupt, so I kept talking. “European settlers pickled things like cucumbers and eggs. Other stuff, too, like watermelons and beets. But not all of the pioneers were from Europe. People came from all over, including Mexico. They needed a way to preserve what grew in their gardens for the winter, too, so they made escabeche.” I pointed to the article.
“Interesting,” Principal Lebonsky said. “I’m impressed, Ben. It’s not what I expected from your League of Pickle Makers.”
“It was a surprise for us, too, Principal Lebonsky. I didn’t know there were Mexicans here back then.” I could feel my heart beating all the way to the top of my head. “But there were, and they probably ate this. If the judges don’t think that’s authentic, that’s their problem. But we know it is.”
“You’re right, Ben,” she said. “You’ve done your research and collaborated with your pickle-making peers. It is certainly not what we discussed, but I respect the value that you’ve placed on historical tradition. I trust you’ll be able to answer any questions that the judging panel may have?”
I nodded.
“Very well. Good luck.” Principal Lebonsky walked on to make sure more Fountain Point exhibits were up to her standards. Oliver, Bean, and Frank walked toward our table like they’d been waiting for the very second that the coast was clear, which of course they had. Leo Saylor ran over from the other direction.
“Just wait until you guys see what we’ve got planned. It’s going to be awesome!” Leo said. He ran down the aisle before we could even ask what he was talking about. Sienna came from the other direction.
“Hey, is your dad here?” I said.
“No, he said he had to work,” she said. Her face got blotchy and it looked like she had chewed off her lip gloss. She walked away to watch a woman knead dough.
We stood together at the table and waited for the judges. I snacked on more escabeche and chips. It wasn’t like we were going to run out, but I stopped when I could see the judges coming down the aisle. There were three of them. Two men and a woman. I knew that they were the judges because they were dressed up and looked important. And they all wore big blue ribbons that said “JUDGE” in gold letters. They leaned down to inspect some bread. I watched them closely, but I still jumped when the woman judge screamed.
43
No Blue Ribbon
After the judge screamed, she jumped back and smacked at her hair. And her chest. The other two judges tried to help, but then one of them started smacking at his shirt the same way. People moved toward them, and we went, too.
“What’s happening?” I asked a guy by the table of dehydrated fruits.
“Bugs,” he said. “Looks like there were cockroaches in the bread.” He covered up his dried fruit with a big sheet of plastic wrap. I heard kids screaming in other parts of the gym, too. Then a nasty brown bug jumped on my shoulder. I only had time to notice his beady little eyes before he jumped off and into the escabeche. I tried to scoop him out, but there were already two more there. I really, really hoped that they hadn’t been there while I was snacking. I was having flan flashbacks. Crunchy, nasty, flan. With legs.
I couldn’t think about it. I couldn’t not think about it. The bug that jumped on my shoulder just hung out on a tomatillo, but another one swam in the vinegar. The third bug crawled underneath a piece of onion, and my stomach clenched.
I bent over and grabbed the table. My brain spun with bugs and food. Food and bugs. I tried to think happy thoughts, but it didn’t stop my stomach from lurching. Frank crouched down beside me.
“Status update, Ben. Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not. I’m gonna puke,” I said.
“You. Must. Chill. Take a deep breath,” he said.
“What are those? Roaches?!”
“Don’t think about them,” Frank said. “Listen. Breathe. Deep breath.”
“I really, really hate roaches, Frank,” I said.
I took a deep breath and smelled the escabeche. I wondered if I had swallowed any bugs. I don’t think I’d even notice with the crunchy chip. Another roach jumped on my face. His creepy little legs tickled my cheek. And then I lost it. And by it, I mean the oatmeal and toast that I had for breakfast and all of the escabeche and chips I had just eaten. I lost it all over the cowboy tablecloth. It looked like someone spilled a vegetable corn chip smoothie. And it smelled even worse.
I stumbled back and sat against the bleachers. I tried to ignore the screaming and yelling. I felt something land on my leg, but I just brushed it off without looking. I heard someone else gag, and I almost threw up again. Someone brought me a wet paper towel. I opened my eyes. Bean was using a curled-up workbook to whack any bugs that jumped on our table. Oliver said he was going to hurl if he had to look at my upchuck anymore, so Frank scooped everything up and carried it to the trash.
“Be careful with the punch bowl!” I called out, and he nodded. Principal Lebonsky’s voice came over the P.A. system.
“ATTENTION PIONEER FAIR VISITORS AND EXHIBITORS. THE FOUNTAIN POINT PIONEER FAIR IS HEREBY CANCELED DUE TO UNFORSEEN PROBLEMS. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE EXITS SO THAT THE SOURCE OF THE DISTURBANCE CAN BE IDENTIFIED AND CONTAINED.”
Sienna squatted down in front of me.
“I’m so sorry, Ben,” she said.
“It’s all right. I’m starting to feel better.” I tried to talk without breathing, just in case I had vomit breath.
“Come on, guys. We have to split,” Bean said. She held the empty punch bowl, but everything else was in the trash. I felt a little woozy when I stood up, but I knew it would be better if I could make it outside. Sienna and I followed Frank, Bean, and Oliver toward the doors. We passed Principal Lebonsky and Rick moving back toward our table. Then we saw Ms. Ruiz.
“This stinks, guys,” Ms. Ruiz said. I thought she was talking about me, but she gestured back toward the fair. “You all must be so disappointed.” She moved forward like she wanted to hug me, but then she changed her mind. She took her punch bowl and said we’d regroup later.
“I can’t stand cockroaches. You know, I ate one once. By accident,” I said. I could see bugs everywhere, but I tried to squint to make them blurry.
“I know. But, they’re crickets,” Sienna said. “There are thousands of crickets. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Are you sure they’re crickets?” One landed on my hand and I shook it off. I looked for Sienna, but she was lost in the crowd. Leo was beside me, looking really bummed out.
“Hey, man,” I said. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m just bummed about the fair getting cancelled. We had a really cool lassoing demonstration planned.”
“You’re in the lassoing club?” I said.
“Yeah.” Leo sighed. “Maybe next year.”
We finally got to the doors, but something was slowing everyone down. I stood behind a woman with a sheep on a leash and her arms full of yarn. I tried not to bump the sheep. Please, no more bugs, I thought. I couldn’t stay in the gym any longer. I pushed through the crowd. I didn’t know what was keeping people in the gym, but whatever it was, I wasn’t interested. Nothing could stop me from getting outside.
I was wrong. I did stop. I stopped to read the poster boards hung on each side of the door that said:
Special Pioneer Fair wildlife compliments of the P.T.A.
Finally it dawned on me how Sienna knew that the bugs were crickets.
44
Another Announcement
I told my parents about the upchuck for sympathy popsicles. I emailed Frank, Bean, and Oliver. So when Sienna showed up at school on Monday morning, the four of us were waiting outside by the fountain.
“Why’d you do it, Sienna?” I asked but she just glared at me. “Is it so bad being here instead of Colorado that you had to ruin it for everybody?” No answer.
“Did you just join the club so you could mess it up?” Bean said. Sienna still didn’t answer, but her eyes got watery and she sniffled.
“I just wanted to do it, all right? I thought it would be fun,” she said.
“I guess you didn’t puke,” I said. “It wasn’t fun.”
“Sorry.” She chewed her lip.
“How many bugs were there, anyway?” Oliver said.
“Three thousand,” Sienna said. “A little less. Some were dead in the box when I got to the gym.”
“Whoa,” Frank said. “Where does one procure three thousand crickets?”
“That pet store on Ninth. They sell crickets to feed lizards and stuff,” Sienna said. “I bought them all.”
“Inspiring,” Frank said.
“Where’d you get the money?” Bean said.
“My dad sent me forty bucks in a card to say he wasn’t coming to visit,” Sienna said. “He said to buy myself something nice.”
“And you went with crickets? Not bad, Taylor!” Bean said. She looked impressed. “Maybe I need a Human vs. Bug site! Just think, Ben, if I’d thought to bring my camera you could have been my first video!”
“Shut up, Bean. Did you see the P.T.A. signs? It said we did it,” I said.
“That is messed up,” Oliver said, and shook his head.
Sienna cried. She wasn’t making any noise, but her cheeks were wet and her eye makeup got all smudgy. I wanted to feel bad for her. I did. But, I just couldn’t. She might have ruined everything. I turned away and watched the babies pour water, not a bubble in sight. The bell rang, Ms. Ruiz got there, and she pushed us all into the classroom. We sat on one side of the class, and Sienna sat on the other.
Ms. Ruiz was explaining about how our government and constitution is based on the old Greek way when the P.A. zapped and we heard Principal Lebonsky clear her throat.
“Good morning, students.” She talked in a normal voice, so they must have figured out that there was nothing wrong with the intercom. “I hope those of you who were unfortunate enough to have been at the Pioneer Fair during the … disturbance … over the weekend have recovered sufficiently for your studies. I would like to put an end to rumors that Fountain Point is infested with cockroaches. Some children placed a great number of common brown field CRICKETS in the gymnasium with NO regard for the feelings of their fellow students and Pioneer Fair exhibitors. Mrs. Wimple’s pottery wheel did not suffer permanent damage, thankfully, when it was pushed over by overzealous bug squashers.” Principal Lebonsky paused. Someone giggled, but Ms. Ruiz shushed us. “BUT, our school district superintendent was present at the fair, along with many members of our school board, and that is not the impression we wanted to make for Fountain Point. Many of our students lost their hard work when it was contaminated and ultimately wasted.” The microphone crackled. Nobody spoke. “One fine exhibit in particular was ruined when a Fountain Point student felt sickened enough by the crickets to vomit upon his own display.” Oh, sheep. Heads swiveled around to look at me. Maggie Rubio laughed. Word had gotten around then. Good to know.
“I made it clear that this type of activity would not be tolerated. My sources have informed me—”
I tried to stare down at the sweat marks my hands were making on my desk. I did not look at Hector, but others did.
“—that our recent string of hijinks can be traced to an organized group of students who find these types of activities amusing. Therefore, while faculty committees and meetings will continue as scheduled, I regret to inform you that ALL EXTRACURRICULAR ENRICHMENT WILL BE SUSPENDED UNTIL THESE EVENTS CEASE TO OCCUR. This includes ALL STUDENT CLUBS, ORGANIZATIONS, AND TEAMS.” She knew the intercom wasn’t broken, but she yelled anyway. “Baseball tryouts are cancelled INDEFINITELY. Perhaps those responsible will realize the effect their actions are having on their peers and do the right thing. This is a matter of INDIVIDUAL ACCOUNTABILITY. This is not open for discussion. There will be consequences when the group is identified. Anyone with information will find that my office door is open. Have a good day.”
The intercom gave a static zap when it turned off, and the classroom filled with buzzing whispers. Maggie Rubio played for the volleyball team and she looked like she was about to cry, but just about everyone else looked mad. Even the kids who weren’t in any clubs or sports.
Bugs or no bugs, Principal Lebonsky had gone too far.
45
A New Pickle
We tried to meet in the lab after school on Thursday, but the door was locked.
“How about Lupe’s?” Oliver said.
“Too risky,” Frank said. “We shouldn’t be overheard.”
“I think it will be all right,” I said. “Things have been slow, and people don’t usually eat in the middle of the afternoon.”
Five minutes later the pickle makers were in our usual booth and I was in the kitchen getting some chips, salsa, and guacamole. My mom and dad weren’t around, so we had full soda machine access. If things had been better in the league, it would have been a party, but I didn’t feel like celebrating.
We all just sat there. Nobody talked. Maybe meeting at the restaurant was a bad idea. One loose cricket, and someone could call the state health inspector. Or one could crawl into the food. I got up and got sodas for everyone and brought them back to the table. I banged the tray down.
“You know what, Sienna? Maybe you shouldn’t even be here. You obviously don’t care about the club,” I said. She didn’t look at me, but she looked at Oliver. That just made me more mad.
“Look, Ben”—Oliver held his hands up—“I’m sorry you ralphed all over our display, but she didn’t think all that would happen. Did you?” Sienna shook her head and sniffed. “Just because you ate one before, how was she to know that they’d make you do that?” Like because she didn’t predict that three thousand crickets attacking would make me lose my breakfast, everything was fine. I couldn’t believe it.
“Crickets have bigger back legs than cockroaches do,” Oliver said. “If you just looked closer you would’ve been able to tell they weren’t roaches.”
“I wasn’t inspecting their legs,” I said through gritted teeth. “I was trying not to look at them at all.” Sienna blew her nose on a napkin. “This club was the best thing to happen to me since we started middle school, and now it’s all over. The next three years are going to stink!” I felt a lump in my throat, and my lip quivered. If I puked and cried in the same week, I might as well just transfer to a new school. Nobody said anything.
“Don’t just try to make her feel bad. We have to think how to fix things,” Oliver said.
“How are we going to fix it? She pretty much killed the P.T.A. and all of the other extracurricular stuff, too!” I said. “Forget it, this meeting is over.” I cleared off the table and stormed out of the restaurant. I was supposed to stay and help with dinner, but first I wanted them to know how mad I was. The pickle makers followed me out and found me right in front standing on the sidewalk. I should have gone around the block or something.
