Shock the Monkey, page 5
“Indeed he was! He was looking for a gift for a girl he fancied.”
Sahara sighed. “That would be Claire.”
“Claire Jensen?” said Noah.
“Yeah—it’s her birthday,” Sahara added. “Big party tonight. And I can guarantee he wasn’t invited. Because I wasn’t invited—and I would certainly get invited before him. Not that I care.”
Noah shook his head. “Claire Jensen. Hooo boy! Ogden doesn’t aim low, does he.”
“Delusion is his comfort zone,” said Sahara.
“Shoot for the stars and reach the moon, I always say,” bellowed Merlin.
“Or bounce off of it,” mumbled Noah.
“Unfortunately, he was unable to find an appropriate gift for his lady-love here, so he took his leave to search elsewhere.”
“Do you know where he went?”
Merlin paused and stroked his beard a bit more. “Nay. Have nary a clue.” Then he turned away to resolve an escalating dice dispute.
And although Noah had a sense that the man wasn’t being entirely truthful, he dismissed it as his own unfounded suspicion of people with too much facial hair.
Had Noah followed his intuition, things might have gone quite a bit differently.
5
A Miserable Murder of Crows
CLAIRE JENSEN LIVED IN THE NEW NEIGHBORHOOD OF HIGHBROUGH Hill, where homes were unnecessarily large and minds were unnecessarily small. Not that its residents were particularly dimwitted—they weren’t. But, like Andi, they were able to narrow their focus to laser precision. While in Andi’s case it was to burn holes in titanium walls and such, for the residents of Highbrough Hill it was so they could see only what they wanted to see and only when they wanted to see it. And mostly what they wanted to see were green lawns and clean windows and well-polished cars.
As for what went on inside the unnecessarily large homes themselves, it was just as disorganized and chaotic and troublesome as in any other home. But as long as no one could see it from the curb, that was just fine and dandy.
Claire’s party was set for 6:00 PM, but Ogden was going to be late, because his Unter blew a gasket and had to be towed, making his trip back from the observatory longer than expected. That was fine; cool kids always arrive fashionably late—and he definitely needed to project coolness tonight.
Now, with the star certificate in hand, his replacement Unter was careening back down the winding mountain road toward Arbuckle—and destiny.
When Noah and Sahara arrived, they assumed Ogden was already there, since he tended to be painfully punctual. There was someone at the door checking the guest list because, this being the social event of the season, the long line of potential party crashers was beginning to assume theme park proportions.
“Do you really think Ogden made it through Checkpoint Jensen?” Sahara asked Noah.
“One of Ogden’s superpowers is getting into places he doesn’t belong,” Noah answered. “He’s probably in there. But how are we going to get in?”
Sahara looked at him pensively.
“Have you ever tried frog’s legs?” she asked.
“Yeah, once. It’s not true—they don’t taste like chicken.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” Then she pointed at the house next door, where it looked like no one was home. “If you can jump over the neighbor’s fence, you could hop into Claire’s backyard from theirs.”
“Yeah, but what about you?” asked Noah.
Sahara put her arms around his neck and, trying not to be too awkward about it, said, “I don’t mind coming along for the ride.”
They arrived in Claire’s yard unnoticed, and without incident.
“Do you see Ogden?” Sahara asked Noah.
He looked around. “Not yet.”
“Let’s hope it’s not too late to save him from himself.”
Ogden arrived a few minutes later—just as the stars were coming out, which would provide the perfect setting for his gift—and, as Noah had said, he was well-practiced in attending events he hadn’t been invited to. The trick was to simply stride in like you knew exactly where you were going, and if someone stopped you, you just mumbled something specific but slightly incoherent, such as “They need me to hoist the thing, or you can forget about dinner.” It was a Jedi mind trick that always worked. He never knew precisely what he would say until he was in the moment, but he trusted the universe to guide him.
The line of the unhappily uninvited was long, but Ogden knew that getting in that line was the kiss of death, because once you became one among many, you lost any hope of advantage. So Ogden bypassed the line like it wasn’t even there and attempted to stride past the party coordinator who was checking names against the guest list.
“Excuse me? Are you on the list?”
“I’m not a guest, I’m running the digital piñata,” he said. “I’ve got to reprogram the candy or it’s going to be a disaster.”
And once again it was proven that Ogden had a strong effect over weak minds.
He got all the way to the backyard without anyone else stopping him. Which was, in its own way, disappointing. He was looking forward to a challenge.
There were kids doing cannonballs in Claire’s pool, splashing water onto other kids’ plates of food. There were adults, presumably Claire’s parents, and more professional party staff, trying to serve food, clean up messes, and prevent the inevitable medical emergency that typified a middle school house party.
And there was Claire, radiant as a mermaid without fins or slimy scales.
He would have made a beeline to her if the pool wasn’t between them, like a moat between a knight and his princess. He had to go around it, passing the barbeque and the birthday cake. One thing led to another, and Ogden’s priorities temporarily changed, as he hadn’t had a thing to eat since breakfast.
Unbeknownst to Ogden, or anyone else at the party for that matter, a figure lurked in the perfectly manicured bushes of Claire’s backyard. Dressed all in black, Raymond Balding-Stalker fancied himself a manga-style ninja. If only he had a sword to cut out the heart of his rival and serve it up flaming on the barbeque.
Ogden heart, medium-well.
Whoever said revenge was a dish best served cold had never been to a barbeque.
Raymond was not as skilled as Ogden at gaining admittance to places he wasn’t invited, so he showed up a few hours early, before anyone would notice. He climbed the fence and secured his place deep within a dense shrubbery almost as unremarkable as himself.
Only now, as he spotted Ogden entering with a gilded scroll that was clearly some brilliantly conceived gift for Claire, did Raymond realize his folly. Because while getting into the bush was no trouble at all, getting out was proving to be problematic.
Its prickly branches were like fish hooks gripping his ninja outfit and wouldn’t let him go. His every attempt to free himself made the bush shake and shimmy. Around him, anyone who happened to notice the unruly bush assumed it was just a make-out spot and made note of it for later use during the party.
Finally, he won the battle with the bush and pulled himself out of it, but the momentum of his heroic escape launched him headlong into the pool.
Noah scoured the party for Ogden, but it wasn’t made easy by his dark glasses, which he didn’t dare remove. There were already rumors going around that Jaxon Youngblood had made a surprise appearance in Arbuckle earlier that day, and people were on the lookout.
Meanwhile, Sahara had slipped off to have a word with her former friend.
When Claire went inside to check the status of guest arrivals, and the turn-away line, Sahara caught the birthday girl before she returned to the backyard, making sure they were alone. Claire was surprised to see her—and a bit guarded.
“Sahara? What are you doing here?”
“Used to be I actually got invited to your birthday.”
“That was a long time ago. People change.”
“Not always for the better,” Sahara pointed out.
Claire put a former-friendly hand on Sahara’s shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Sahara. So, you got a little antisocial and disappeared into your gymnastics. Those are still valid choices.”
Sahara wanted to smack her for that but realized Claire wasn’t being sarcastic; she sincerely believed what she was saying. It was more sad than anything else.
“I’m happy with my choices,” Sahara told her, shrugging Claire’s arm off her shoulder. “Are you?”
Claire didn’t answer; instead she glanced to the activity outside, clearly in a hurry to get back to all the adoration. “Well, as long as you’re here, have a burger and some cake. Enjoy the party!”
“I’m not here to enjoy it,” Sahara told her. “I’m here because a friend of mine is going to show up uninvited, manage to get around your security measures, and give you a gift. I’m asking you to please, please be decent to him.”
Claire offered a smile that she probably believed was genuine. “When have I ever, ever not been decent?”
And although Sahara could have listed off every specific instance, she didn’t. Instead, she said, “Just try to make your birthday special for others, too. Not just for yourself.”
Ogden was still stalled at the grill and, having already eaten, was instructing Claire’s father on proper grilling technique, because clearly the man was an amateur.
“You have to make sure the flame is not so high that it chars the burger, but high enough to keep the center from being a barbeque bomb of deadly bacteria.”
“Uh, wouldn’t you rather be enjoying the party?” Mr. Jensen suggested.
Ogden looked down at the gilded scroll in his left hand, and suddenly remembered why he was there before being so rudely distracted by food. He reached out and shook Mr. Jensen’s hand. “I’m Ogden,” he said, “your daughter’s future boyfriend. We’ll talk.”
Then he scoured the party for Claire.
He spotted her helping/not helping someone dressed entirely in black who had fallen into the pool. “Um, the ladder’s over there,” she said, pointing, but stepping back from all his splashing so as not to get her party dress wet. “Who are you anyway?” she said to the possibly drowning boy. “Are you even supposed to be here?”
By the time Ogden reached her, the waterlogged party crasher had run off into the bushes in utter embarrassment, leaving an opening for Ogden.
Claire Jensen was not surprised that kids crashed her party. It was only to be expected. And although those who weren’t on the official guest list were turned away at the door, anyone who managed to get in anyway was rewarded by being allowed to stay. As far as Claire was concerned, they had earned their admittance through their intrepid determination. It was her way of obliging the unwashed masses of Arbuckle Middle School—although one of the unwashed had now not only been washed, but also chlorinated.
“Ew—it’s Raymond Balding-Stalker!” someone beside her said as the unfortunate boy struggled to free himself from the bush he had rushed into. “What’s he doing here?”
“Doing whatever it is he does,” responded Claire, magnanimously. And since the bush seemed to have him well restrained, she decided to just let it be. Because she was just that kind of girl. And also because the boy’s mother, Ms. Stalker, was her English teacher—so it wouldn’t hurt to show kindness to her son.
But now there was another uninvited guest begging her attention, coming toward her from the grilling area. She recognized him as the boy who had bothered her in the lunch line. Claire sighed. Shouldn’t one’s birthday party be more than humoring those who didn’t belong? And yet humor she must—because in the end, every potential vote counted if she hoped to remain student body president once she got to high school. She knew that all too often elections are decided by the people who don’t matter.
“Oren! You said you’d be here, and here you are!” She was particularly pleased with herself that she remembered his name. “Did you bring a bathing suit? I wouldn’t want you to have to swim in your clothes like that other boy.”
“Actually no,” he said, having his focus so hypnotically on Claire, she doubted he even saw that other boy. “But I’m flattered you want to see me in a bathing suit.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes you did—but that’s for another day. Right now, I’d like to give you a birthday gift I know you’re going to treasure!”
Claire then remembered Sahara had said something about an uninvited guest bearing a gift. “Good for you for getting this far!” she said. “Usually party crashers don’t bring gifts—they just bring their appetites.”
“Well, I brought that, too—but to be honest, I’m really not a party crasher. I’m more of a party whisperer.”
By now some of Claire’s actual invited guests had taken notice of the conversation and were migrating over—which was the last thing she wanted.
“Well, there’s a gift table inside,” Claire said, pointing. “Just make sure you write your name on it so my mother can write you a thank-you note.”
“This can’t wait for a gift table,” Oren said. “You have to open it right here, right now, beneath the clear, starry sky.”
“It’s partly cloudy,” pointed out Claire.
“Which means it’s also partly clear,” countered Oren.
“Is this scrawny dude bothering you, Claire?” asked Thayne Smith. He was captain of the boys’ volleyball team, and at the forefront of Claire’s collection of friends, even though he was an absolute tool—because as her mother once said, “Tools can be wielded to great ends. Just look at your father.”
Also joining the growing cluster was Jess Elizondo, a girl who was not quite as popular as Claire, however, like a cactus in a photo of the desert, needed to be there in Claire’s background to provide perspective and scale.
“Ogden?” she said. “You invited Ogden?”
“It’s Oren,” corrected Claire. “And I didn’t invite him.”
“But fate had other plans,” Oren said, and he held up a gilded scroll, which caught Thayne’s eye more than anyone else’s—but that was just because he tended to be easily distracted by shiny objects.
Then Oren unrolled it to reveal it was some sort of fancy certificate.
“I don’t understand,” said Claire as she looked at it. “What is it?”
“I know! It’s a diploma from Nerd University,” said Luke Hooten, who only aspired to be a tool but was more like a drill bit. “Get it? NERD University?”
Claire ignored him and read the gilded certificate. “So this is like for a star? In the sky?”
“And not just any star!” Oren said. “It’s one you can actually see at night—especially this time of year!”
“Seriously?” said Jess, taking it from Claire and waving it in Oren’s face. “You show up to a party and give her something like this?”
Oren grabbed it back, starting to act a little more agitated. “Look at it, Claire—it even has its own exoplanet! You know what an exoplanet is, right?”
“More like ex-zero-planet,” said Luke. “Get it? Ex-ZERO-planet?”
There was something about the desperate look on Oren’s face that started to weigh on Claire. She took the certificate again and looked at it more closely. “Actually, I think it’s kind of sweet,” she said.
“Sweet?” said Jess “Are you kidding me?
“Look,” Oren said, pointing at the certificate. “I even named it after you!”
Then Claire noticed that there was a place toward the bottom—a blank line begging for a signature.
“It’s ridiculous!” sneered Jess. “What would she even do with it?”
Now Oren began to lose his temper. “She would sit in her ginormous yard in front of her ginormous pool and look up at it, shining down on her from seventy-three-point-five light years away, and know that her boyfriend thought enough of her to get her a yak!”
“A what?”
“It’s a metaphor!” yelled Oren.
“Wait,” said Claire. “Did you say ‘boyfriend’?”
That brought silence to the whole group. Until Thayne said, “Hey, I thought I was your boyfriend.” Which wasn’t true either, but that was a different conversation.
“Oren…,” said Claire.
“It’s Ogden,” he told her. “And I got this for you because you’re like this star, Claire. And I’m like the exoplanet, trapped in your orbit, spinning closer and closer, longing to burn up in your radiance.”
More silence. Someone cannonballed in the pool, splashing them, but nobody else moved.
And then Jess began to giggle…
… and Thayne began to chuckle…
… and Luke let out a guffaw…
… and before long everyone around Claire and Ogden was laughing.
It’s not like Claire really wanted to laugh, but sometimes when your friends laugh, it’s contagious—and even though Ogden’s eyes were filling with tears, and his face was looking like he really was about to burn up in the heat of a sun, she just couldn’t help herself. She just laughed and laughed, and finally struggled to get a grip.
“I’m sorry, Ogden,” she told him, handing him back the certificate. “It’s just… it’s just…” But she lapsed into another fit of laughter.
Then from somewhere else in the party someone screamed, “Oh my god! It’s Jaxon Youngblood!”
And suddenly Ogden’s star was the last thing on anyone’s mind. Because it had just been eclipsed by a brighter one.
Noah and Sahara saw the whole thing. Every last humiliating moment of Ogden’s fail. Although they both agreed Ogden wasn’t really the one who failed. His attempt was valiant, and beyond anything that either Noah or Sahara thought him capable of. It was Claire and her friends’ failure of humanity. The kind of thing that made Noah wonder if his parents had the right idea after all about wiping out life on Earth.
