The Schwa Was Here: Chapters 6–9

Sure, I was no stranger to failed schemes, but never had one backfired so badly.

I was unnaturally quiet for most of the meal, which was probably a mistake, because it threw off the entire family equilibrium.

When dogs bark too much, you can put on special collars, so each time the dog barks, it squirts out a funky smell. It doesn't really teach dogs not to bark, but it distracts them long enough to make 'em forget they were barking.

The conversation lapsed into an endless stream of other topics, and I went back to pushing my food around my plate.

I once had a teacher who said my imagination was about as developed as my appendix, but I don't agree, because I came up with a whole bunch of possibilities of what Crawley could do.

As they crowded around him, jockeying for position, he touched each of them on the head and announced: "Prudence, Temperance, Justice, Fortitude, Faith, Hope, and Charity."

As they crowded around him, jockeying for position, he touched each of them on the head and announced: "Prudence, Temperance, Justice, Fortitude, Faith, Hope, and Charity."

"Avarice is Greed, right? That's the way I learned the seven deadly sins. So why not just name the dog Greed?"

Maybe it's because there was a kind of a mystique to it, walking the infamous Old Man Crawley's dogs.

Everyone knew whose dogs they were—it's not like the neighborhood is teeming with Afghans.

"Well, let's put it this way: If he's got bats in his belfry, he nails them to the wall to watch them wriggle."

Right about now Howie looks over his shoulder like the FBI might be reporting his activities to his parents, who have recently begun a policy of preemptive grounding.

It was exemplary, to borrow a word I missed on my last vocabulary test: the perfect example of what a front yard should be.

He didn't sound particularly pleased that I was there. It was more like he was resigned to the fact.

At the mention of his mother, I casually looked around for any sign of her, but there were no pictures, no feminine touches.

It looked just like an ordinary paper clip.
He pulled out another one. It was tarnished bronze.

I shrugged and thought about what the Schwa had once said about me having business savvy. "I don't know. It just makes sense."

I told this wisdom to my mother, and she said I oughta put it in a book, then burn it. Some people just can't appreciate the profound.

It was always an adventure with him, never knowing what he was going to gripe about when we showed up. He was usually much more on my case than the Schwa's.

"Fine. I'll notify your next of kin, Antsy."

"Maybe it's Tourette's syndrome."
"What's that?" I asked.
"It's where you have these little seizures and can't stop cursing people out."

Last year, my science teacher said that when a bamboo plant is established enough, you can actually watch it growing before your eyes. I wondered if it was sometimes the same with humans—because I was feeling this weird vertigo, like I had suddenly sprouted far beyond Howie and Ira.

"Whatever's wrong with her, maybe she wasn't born with it."
"Maybe she developed leprosy at puberty," says Howie.

"Get back, or I swear I'll put you in the gumbo!"

A golden retriever much calmer than the other dogs paced out from the kitchen, wearing a harness and a rigid halter. A Seeing Eye dog.

Now she moved her fingers across his face more intently than she had searched mine.

"It has no taste."
"Yes, it does," said Lexie. "It's just very subtle."

I quickly brought down two dogs for him to walk, and no sooner had I put the leashes in his hands than the maitre d' threw a conniption fit about health codes, and quickly shooed Schwa and the dogs out the back way.

The Schwa was on the cusp of being there and not being there, which I guess is why he clung so tightly to Lexie and me.

He reached in and gingerly pulled out a little bag.

Then the Schwa invokes the friendship clause.
"Antsy, you're my best friend," he says. "I'm asking you as a friend. Please..."

Like I said, I was in hot water, because whether I like it or not, I got a conscience. But I also got a selfish streak, and once in a while it kicks in before the water starts to boil.

I was coming up with all this clever stuff to do with her—it amazed me how clever I could be when a girl was involved. It actually gave me hope that maybe I had latent superintelligence that was activated by girls, like the way the Incredible Hulk was activated by anger.

"In school we do a lot of tactile learning," she warned me. "I know the whole world by touch."

The way he lives in this stuffy cave. It's not really living, is it?

They both waited for me to explain myself. This was easier said than done, on accounta the intuitive part of my brain was three steps ahead of the thinking part.

Concerts have a way of making music you don't regularly like, likable. I guess it's because when the people around you really like it, some of that soaks into you. It's called osmosis, something I learned about in science—probably by osmosis, since it isn't like I was listening.

They're operating on some poor slob, they accidentally nick an artery, and he starts gushing.

He grunted, then threw a chew toy at Fortitude, who was gnawing on his shoe. The toy bounced off the dog's nose, and she went for it, trotting off happily with the toy in her jaws.

"I was actually beginning to think you had some personal integrity."