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Authors: Shannon Giglio
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popcorn beneath her sneakers, and gave Jason a hug, squealing. That night had been the first time she’d smiled since Stryker Nash had left wrestling. But, Jason has that affect on people. His enthusiasm and just plain joy are not only contagious, but epidemic. The parents even got caught up in his passion.
Lois had felt her heart warm that night, watching her daughter celebrate with her friend. If things were different, he’d make a wonderful son-in-law. Lois was secretly glad that Jason was Ally’s boyfriend and not Mara’s. He was the group’s own personal sun. A car wash. Sure, why not. Lois had been all for the idea. It was a start, anyway.
Wendell’s mom, Elise, who works as a secretary at the church, said they were welcome to use the church parking lot, if they could do it on Saturday. And Donald’s dad, Dave, who works at Wal-Mart, said he could get supplies using his employee discount. It was November, but they’d been having unseasonably warm weather, so everyone agreed to have a car wash fundraiser the following weekend. Jason was congratulated by everyone in attendance.
Then the car wash happened.
They washed forty-two cars, which, by all accounts, was a very good turnout. Everyone’s noses were sunburned and they were exhausted. Washing cars was a lot more work than they had expected. But, it was an honest day’s work, and they are thankful for the community’s support.
But, at ten dollars per car, they only made four-hundred and twenty dollars.
They need half-a-million.
Parents and children alike shed discouraged tears as their dream melts before their eyes.
Lois is not worried, though.
She has me whispering to her to keep her going.
They need to think bigger, I tell her.
Of course, I’m a little tired of telling humans to think big, since they almost always fail at whatever it is they try to do, but, what the hell, I like this Ally kid.
Someone’s gotta renew my faith, you know?
6. Trypanophobia / trī-pănˈ-ə-fōˈ-bē-ə / fear of needles or injections
“A lly,” Dr. Stone taps her knee with his pen. She pulls the foam-covered bud from her ear, disconnecting herself from the warbling David Archuleta on her iPod, and looks up. “Say, would you mind having a seat out in the waiting room while I talk to your mom for a minute?” Ally had always been wary of Dr. Stone. Even though his evil nurse was the syringe-wielding maniac, there was something suspicious about the doctor himself. He reminded Ally a little bit of Santa Claus. White hair, prodigious girth, and wire-rimmed ovoid spectacles. She knew Santa wasn’t real, of course. Dr. Stone reminded her more of the foul-smelling perverts who had played Santa up at the Century III Mall when she was little.
But, you know, what if the guy really was Santa Claus? That good and real Norman Rockwell Santa Claus. And what if Santa was her very own family doctor? What an awesome secret that would be! After every appointment, she’d remind herself not to mention her suspicion to anyone, on the off-chance that Christmas would stop coming if word got around. That would be tragic, not just for her, but for the whole world. And, with the holiday being only a few weeks away, she resolved to be extra tight-lipped. Not that she was much in the mood for celebrating, but she’d keep quiet, so the children of the world would still get their gifts.
Humans and their silly traditions. Santa Claus. Come on, people. Lying to your children like that. You should be ashamed.
Anyway, after Ally left the room, Dr. Stone, who may or may not be the “real” Santa Claus, turns to Lois, raises his bushy white eyebrows, and gives her a wistful smile. It makes Lois nervous. The toe of her Payless loafer taps against the gray-streaked linoleum. “You don’t think this is about just being sad because of the wrestling thing, do you? You don’t think she’s just depressed.”
Dr. Stone sighs and looks at his little laptop computer, the
Lois had felt her heart warm that night, watching her daughter celebrate with her friend. If things were different, he’d make a wonderful son-in-law. Lois was secretly glad that Jason was Ally’s boyfriend and not Mara’s. He was the group’s own personal sun. A car wash. Sure, why not. Lois had been all for the idea. It was a start, anyway.
Wendell’s mom, Elise, who works as a secretary at the church, said they were welcome to use the church parking lot, if they could do it on Saturday. And Donald’s dad, Dave, who works at Wal-Mart, said he could get supplies using his employee discount. It was November, but they’d been having unseasonably warm weather, so everyone agreed to have a car wash fundraiser the following weekend. Jason was congratulated by everyone in attendance.
Then the car wash happened.
They washed forty-two cars, which, by all accounts, was a very good turnout. Everyone’s noses were sunburned and they were exhausted. Washing cars was a lot more work than they had expected. But, it was an honest day’s work, and they are thankful for the community’s support.
But, at ten dollars per car, they only made four-hundred and twenty dollars.
They need half-a-million.
Parents and children alike shed discouraged tears as their dream melts before their eyes.
Lois is not worried, though.
She has me whispering to her to keep her going.
They need to think bigger, I tell her.
Of course, I’m a little tired of telling humans to think big, since they almost always fail at whatever it is they try to do, but, what the hell, I like this Ally kid.
Someone’s gotta renew my faith, you know?
6. Trypanophobia / trī-pănˈ-ə-fōˈ-bē-ə / fear of needles or injections
“A lly,” Dr. Stone taps her knee with his pen. She pulls the foam-covered bud from her ear, disconnecting herself from the warbling David Archuleta on her iPod, and looks up. “Say, would you mind having a seat out in the waiting room while I talk to your mom for a minute?” Ally had always been wary of Dr. Stone. Even though his evil nurse was the syringe-wielding maniac, there was something suspicious about the doctor himself. He reminded Ally a little bit of Santa Claus. White hair, prodigious girth, and wire-rimmed ovoid spectacles. She knew Santa wasn’t real, of course. Dr. Stone reminded her more of the foul-smelling perverts who had played Santa up at the Century III Mall when she was little.
But, you know, what if the guy really was Santa Claus? That good and real Norman Rockwell Santa Claus. And what if Santa was her very own family doctor? What an awesome secret that would be! After every appointment, she’d remind herself not to mention her suspicion to anyone, on the off-chance that Christmas would stop coming if word got around. That would be tragic, not just for her, but for the whole world. And, with the holiday being only a few weeks away, she resolved to be extra tight-lipped. Not that she was much in the mood for celebrating, but she’d keep quiet, so the children of the world would still get their gifts.
Humans and their silly traditions. Santa Claus. Come on, people. Lying to your children like that. You should be ashamed.
Anyway, after Ally left the room, Dr. Stone, who may or may not be the “real” Santa Claus, turns to Lois, raises his bushy white eyebrows, and gives her a wistful smile. It makes Lois nervous. The toe of her Payless loafer taps against the gray-streaked linoleum. “You don’t think this is about just being sad because of the wrestling thing, do you? You don’t think she’s just depressed.”
Dr. Stone sighs and looks at his little laptop computer, the
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