Lucy, Chapter Six

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Chapter Six

When Lucas got back to the Weavers’ after staying the night at Ben’s house Mr. and Mrs. Weaver were already up and cooking breakfast. Mrs. Weaver asked him if he wanted any pancakes and even though he’d already had eggs on toast at Ben’s house he said yes.

The three of them were sitting at the table eating when Carlie came in. She went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice and leaned on the counter as she eyed her parents suspiciously.

“What’s going on?” She asked.

“What do you mean?” Mr. Weaver asked.

“With you two… you’re all… touching.”

Mrs. Weaver laughed. “We are married Carlie, we’re allowed to touch.”

Carlie narrowed her eyes. “Hmm.”

Lucas didn’t know what her problem was. His parents always got all affectionate with each other after their date nights. She acted as if this was all a surprise to her.

After breakfast he went out in the garden with Mr. Weaver, like he’d done every Saturday. Mr. Weaver was totally obsessed with his garden. He was what he called a ‘bromeliad fancier,’ which meant that he worshiped these little plants that looked kind of like agave cactus with spiky leaves and strange colorful flowers. They came in heaps of different colors and shapes and sizes and Mr. Weaver’s back yard was somewhat of a bromeliad museum.

The front yard was pretty good too, but according to Mr. Weaver it was too risky to put any of the valuable ones in the front yard incase somebody stole them. Lucas didn’t like to point out that even if a passerby did decide that they wanted to steal one it would be essentially impossible without the requisite protective gear. If anyone tried taking off down the street with a prized bromeliad they wouldn’t get very far before they’d have to abandon it because it would scratch them to pieces.

Mr. Weaver had to be particularly careful to make sure the sharp spines on the leaves of the plants didn’t scratch him because he was allergic to them, so he wore long sleeves and trousers and thick gloves, even when it was sweltering hot outside. It was ironic that he loved something so much that seemed intent on causing him pain.

The routine was to spend the morning weeding and transplanting the plants that were starting to look ‘unhappy’ to a different part of the yard. Then, after lunch, they would get in the car and drive all over Brisbane to different nurseries to look for new ‘specimens’.

Mr. Weaver was friends with all of the nursery owners, especially the ones that specialized in orchids and bromeliads. He was even in a society for Bromeliad appreciation.

That Saturday they drove all the way across town to go to a special nursery that Mr. Weaver said he hadn’t been to in a year or more. It wasn’t a nursery so much as it was a guy’s back yard that was completely overtaken by bromeliads of every type.

Nigel, the owner, greeted Mr. Weaver warmly and walked up and down the dirt aisles with them. Mr. Weaver chose two new additions, each time asking Lucas what he thought, and then he asked Nigel if he was still growing orchids. When he said yes, Mr. Weaver asked to see them.

Nigel led them into a big, hot, damp greenhouse that was filled with plants with long splays of colorful exotic flowers. Mr. Weaver wandered around examining the flowers and then he decided on one that was just a couple of thick fleshy leaves at the base with two tall stalks of flowers that were kept upright with sticks of bamboo. The flowers petals were white fading to a delicate pink at their center, and where the petals came together there was a pretty yellow throat.

“Ah… you know I’m happy to sell it to you Paul, but that plant requires high humidity to flower properly. I’m not sure it will be happy at your property.”

“That’s fine. It’s not for the garden.”

In the car on the way home Mr. Weaver asked Lucas to hold the orchid so that the flowers didn’t get damaged.

“Lucas, how often do your parents have their date night?”

“Um… more since my brother left. Probably once a week, or ever other week, why?”

“Oh, no reason. Why did your brother leave?”

“To go to college.”

“He left home for that?”

“Yeah, he lives in Boston now.”

“What age was he when he left?”

“Eighteen.”

Mr. Weaver’s eyebrows rose. “That quick huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. You didn’t ask Carlie to come with us today.”

“No.” Lucas didn’t elaborate. He didn’t tell Mr. Weaver that he didn’t ask Carlie because he didn’t particularly want to spend time with her. He thought it best to change the subject. “I have to give a speech at the school assembly this week. All of the exchange students have to.

“What are you going to say?”

“I don’t know. What do you think I should say?”

“Well, I guess they’re hoping you’ll say something about how wonderful the school is.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said sympathetically.

Lucas really didn’t want to get up and sing the praises of the school because honestly, he didn’t really like it. He guessed if you were interested in learning you might like it, or if you were a super-cool girl who was interested in back stabbing everyone around you it might be your thing. Lucas hadn’t really found his place in the school.

“Why don’t you just get up and play your tuba?”

Lucas couldn’t help but be amused when he heard Australians say tuba, they pronounced it t-you-ba, it was the reason he’d asked Mr. Hawthorn for it in the first place.

“Do you think they’d let me do that?”

“I don’t see why not. Just play them The Star Spangled Banner or something.”

It wasn’t a bad idea.

When they got home Mrs. Weaver pulled Mr. Weaver into their room by his arm before he could even give her the orchid. “We need to talk,” she said seriously.

Lucas went to his room to practice the tuba but before long Mr. Weaver knocked on his door. He took Lucas out to the dining room where Mrs. Weaver and Carlie were already sitting at the table.

“Sit.” He ordered.

He sat down, confused by the sudden turn of hostility. “What’s the matter?”

“Lucas,” he said seriously. “Carlie is thirteen years old. Now, I don’t know how it’s done over in America, but when you are under my roof you will not be romancing my daughter.

“What?” He asked, stunned.

“You heard me. I don’t want you trying to seduce my thirteen year old daughter.”

“I don’t understand…”

Mr. Weaver passed him a piece of paper and stood with his hands on his hips, looking menacing.

Your eyes are brown,

Like dirt on the ground,

You are very pretty,

Even though you’re a bit round.

Please let me stay,

And live in the spare room,

I promise not to tease you,

When you ride on your broom.

“Oh,” Lucas said, relieved. “That wasn’t for Carlie.”

“Who was it for then?”

“I wrote it for Mrs. W., on the day I got here.”

“On the day you arrived?” Mrs. Weaver interjected. “That was almost a month ago. I found that it your laundry today… You haven’t washed your jeans in a month?”

Lucas shrugged. It wasn’t that bad. At home once he’d found a dirty t-shirt under his bed that he hadn’t seen in such a long time he’d forgotten he owned it. He had to throw it out because it had started to grow a foul smelling mould.

Mr. Weaver shook his head and blinked hard, trying to get back on track. “So you’re trying to romance my wife?”

“Not romance, charm. It was part of the plan, I cooked dinner and bought flowers and wrote her poetry so she wouldn’t kick me out. When all of the other aspects of my plan failed I decided not to give her the poem.”

Mr. Weaver stared at him for a moment, then plucked the piece of paper out of his hands and read over the poem. “Oh,” he said as the realization washed over him. “I guess the part about the witch on the broom just reminded me of Carlie.”

“Dad!” Carlie screeched.

“So you’re not trying to seduce Carlie?” Mr. Weaver asked.

“God no.”

“Hello? I’m right here in the room with you!” Carlie crossed her arms and pouted dramatically.

Mrs. Weaver leaned over and took the piece of paper out of Mr. Weaver’s hand and read over it. “You think I’m too round?”

“Ah… well… that is to say…” Lucas looked to Mr. Weaver for help but he just raised his eyebrows at him.

“Tell me honestly, do you think I’m too round?” Mrs. Weaver asked.

That sounded like a trick question. “Um… I wouldn’t say you’re too round, you’re just rounder than my mom, that’s all.”

Mrs. Weaver nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time to start exercising again.”

She asked if she could come jogging in the mornings with Lucas and Winston and he agreed. He took the dog out jogging on the mornings that he didn’t lifeguard at the pool.

“Hey do you know what orienteering is?” He asked her the next morning as they were running along the bike path near the house.

“Ah… yeah… it’s running… with a compass.” Mrs. Weaver said between puffs.

“Oh. Ben was telling me that he is on an orienteering team, but I couldn’t figure out what that is supposed to be. I mean, why not just call it cross country? That’s what we call it at home.”

“Uh-huh.”

Mrs. Weaver wasn’t very good at carrying on a conversation while she was running so Lucas just did most of the talking. He was quite happy to talk, even if she was too puffed to answer.

On Monday he went to classes with Carlie as usual, but at morning tea he wandered around the school looking for Penelope. She wasn’t sitting near Carlie and her friends anymore. He couldn’t find her anywhere and he was beginning to worry that she hadn’t showed up that day, but when he went to German class she was there. He sat beside her instead of Carlie and asked to share her textbook.

As the old bag of a teacher droned on about the difference between ein, eine and einen Lucas wrote on his notebook, “Where are you sitting at lunchtime now?” and slid it over for Penelope to read.

She bit on her lip and shrank away a little and he immediately felt bad for the way he’d phrased his question. She probably hadn’t found anywhere else to sit yet.

He scribbled out his first question and wrote another and pushed his notebook over so she could see. “Do you want to sit together at lunch?”

She looked up at the teacher for a bit and when the old bat turned around to write something on the board Penelope leaned over and wrote, “Okay,” in neat curly handwriting.

They met at the library entrance and walked around the school examining all of the possibilities for places to sit. It was kind of nice how the entire school ate their lunch outside every day, but it added a whole new level of complexity compared to the school cafeteria at his school in Denver. They needed somewhere that was out of the flow of foot traffic, shady so that Lucas didn’t burn to a crisp, and had enough shelter so that if it rained they wouldn’t get soaking wet. It quickly became obvious that they wouldn’t find all three so they agreed that they’d find a place with shade and if it rained they’d meet at the library and sit somewhere else for that day.

Given this compromise there were a few options. There was a nice place near the front of the school with a big tree they could sit under, but it was a bit too isolated. He didn’t want it to look like they were sneaking off to be on their own, so he vetoed it on the basis that it was too far from where most of their classes were. There was a good place near the sports field beside the gym, but it wasn’t shady enough. Eventually they settled on a vacant built-in wooden bench that ran the length of the building the teachers went to on their time between classes.

Apparently it was too nerdy for others to sit near the teachers.

Penelope was a lot like Mrs. Weaver was when she went jogging – she didn’t talk very much. He decided not to let it bother him. He just blabbered on about whatever came into his head. Even if she wasn’t the greatest conversationalist in the world she was nice, and in his book that put her above most of the other girls he’d talked to at this school.

Even Carlie.

Lucas had decided that Carlie wasn’t worth the effort. For a while he had thought that there was an interesting person that might be worth getting to know under all those layers of defensiveness, but that was before she’d let Bess and the other girls play that trick on poor, unsuspecting Penelope. Now he just stayed out of her way.

What did she care anyway? She was too cool to talk to nerds like him and Penelope.