in front of the TV and settled in for the evening. “Give your mother a hand with the kitchen,” he yelled at Brian. “You do a better job than Madison does anyway.”
At least there’s something I can do well. Brian stood up and began helping his mother with the trash. There were two slices of pizza to save.
“Put the leftover pizza in the fridge. I am going to sit and relax my back,” his mother said getting a cigarette from the pack.
“Okay,” Brian replied.
Brian began to put the leftover slices into a plastic food storage bag, when he thought, “waste not, want not,” that’s what Mom always says. And he proceeded to eat the last two slices of pizza. He never felt like he had had enough to eat unless he felt stuffed.
“All done, son?” she asked as she got up from her chair.
“You bet, Mom,” he mumbled, as a bit of pizza sauce dribbled from his lower lip.
“You’re such a good son. I don’t know what I’d do without you. What more could a mother ask for?”
“Can I have an extra piece of cake for helping with the kitchen two nights in a row? Can I? Please!” His mother could never resist Brian when he pleaded for extra food. His chubby cheeks looked so cute to her. Like an angel, she thought.
Brian sat on the edge of his too-narrow bed, which creaked in protest. He noticed that his feet dangled an inch from the floor. Pretty soon I’m going to be able to sit on the bed and touch both feet to the floor at the same time, he thought as he dipped his toes to the floor. Strange how my legs grow . . . I wonder if they would grow faster if I ate more. I bet I’ll be seven feet tall before I’m thirteen. I better watch it or I’ll be so tall people won’t like me.
I think people don’t like other people when they’re real different, he thought. Most of the people I go to school with all look about the same. Some have brown hair, some have black hair, and some have blond hair, but they all kind of look alike. The other kids tease or are just plain mean to the ones who are real different. I don’t like being teased or treated differently, he thought. I just want to be like the other kids.
Sometimes when I’m with Josh, the other kids make fun of us because Josh is shorter than everybody in our class and I’m fatter. I get so tired of that. Sometimes it makes me feel . . . Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Brian looked up and the door flung open. Madison stood at the doorway with her blue and white cheerleading outfit on and an angry look on her face.
“Hey,” she snapped at Brian. “Have you seen my Jack Jet CD? I was listening to it yesterday and now it’s not there. I always leave it in the same place in my room sitting right on my nightstand. I need it for cheerleading. Did you take it?”
“Can’t you wait until I say ‘come in’? You didn’t even give me a chance to say ‘come in.’ You’re always walking in on me. You better stop doing that or I’m going to tell.”
“So what,” she said defiantly. “Who cares? No one will do anything anyway. No one cares what I do. Well, have you seen my CD or not?” she screeched.
Brian heaved his body forward and with a smirking grin snapped, “No, I haven’t seen your stupid Jack Jet CD, and if I had, I wouldn’t tell you anyway. After what you said to me at dinner tonight do you think I’d help you?”
“Come on, Brian, I was just kidding,” she moaned. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Kidding!” he groaned. “It’s not very funny. Did you see me laughing?”
“Okay!” Madison replied with a snap. “Okay. Are you sure you haven’t seen my CD?”
“No, I told you. No!”
“Well then, will you help me look for it? I need it for tonight.”
“Can’t you see I’m busy? I’ve got things to do.” Madison looked at him sitting on the corner of the bed looking like a big bump on a small log.
“Forget it. Just forget it!” she wailed. “I’ll find it myself.” She slammed the door behind her as she stamped out of the room.
A second later Madison suddenly opened the door, stuck her head in, and said, “By the way, I take it back. I’m going to call you whatever I want, Fatso!” This time she slammed the door twice as hard.
Brian slumped back over the bed and ended up on his back with his eyes staring straight up at the light fixture that hung over his bed. “Man, I hate her. I really do. I wish she was dead. Maybe she’s not really my sister,” he mumbled aloud. “Maybe her real parents will come and pick her up someday and I can live in peace.”
Rumps was sitting in the corner listening to all the sounds that were going on. Rumps suddenly barked at Brian when Brian started talking to himself.
“Shhh,” Brian said. “Be quiet before Dad starts pounding on the ceiling. You know he gets mad at me every time you start barking. He said if you do that one more time I have to get rid of you. Do you want that to happen? Do you?”
Rumps lifted his ears, cocked his head, and stared at Brian as if he really knew what Brian was talking about. Rumps stopped barking.
Brian had found Rumps a couple of blocks from his house in a dirty alley. He was a scrawny mutt with fleas, matted hair, and a hurt front paw. Brian could see parts of his brown and white fur were torn out, probably from dog fights. Brian often heard the dog fights that took place in the middle of the night. But he didn’t care how Rumps looked or how he got that way. The dog liked Brian and Brian liked him. Brian was determined to keep this dog.
Brian brought him home the same day he found him and begged his father and mother to let him keep the dog. His father had told him absolutely not, but after twenty minutes of pleas and moaning and groaning, he won out, with his dad having begrudgingly lost the battle to a persistent son and a nagging wife.
“But if that dog makes a mess or gets in my way, he goes, and that’s final.” Marshall said, waving them away and stomping out of the room.
“What are you going to call him, Brian?” his mother asked gently.
“I don’t know. Maybe I should name him after Dad since he let me keep him.”
“Perfect. You can call him ‘grumpy.’” They both laughed. “Or ‘grumps’ for short.”
“I know,” Brian said with excitement, “I’ll call him ‘Rumps.’ It sounds like ‘grumps.’”
“And every time I hear the name, I’ll think of your father,” Brian’s mom said with a smile.
Brian proceeded from that moment forward to take care of Rumps. He took the thorn out of his paw, gave him a bath, dried him off, and brushed out his hair. He fed Rumps five times
