Free Hit the Road, Manny: A Manny Files Novel by Christian Burch Page B

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    The man washing his lawn introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Grant. This is my wife, Dana,” he said, pointing to the woman in the culottes and tennis visor. “And this young beauty is our granddaughter, Harmony. She just spilled her entire Gatorade on the AstroTurf.” When Grant said this, he sprayed the green AstroTurf one last time, and I could see orange Gatorade running off the side and into the dirt.
    The little girl in the lavender overalls waved to us with a Barbie that was in her hand. It wasn’t really Barbie. It was Skipper, Barbie’s little sister. You can tell them apart because Skipper has bangs and tan lines and Barbie doesn’t. I only know because India used to play with Barbies and she told me. And sometimes I used to play with her. I was in charge of running the household, cleaning and running the kids to school. India called me Barbie’s butler.
    Grant shook all of our hands and said, “Welcome to the neighborhood.” And then he laughed like he’d said something really funny. Dana called him “a kidder” and offered us chocolate chip cookies out of a square Tupperware container. They looked really good and smelled like butter, but they tasted like refrigerator burn, like they had been in the freezer too long and had to be chipped out of the ice. I didn’t say anything. I just ate it politely like Mom taught me. I’ve always been polite, but Mom says that sometimes my politeness needs direction. When I was six, I went to my friend Elliot’s birthday party. His mother made carrot cake. When she offered me a piece, I said, “Oh, no, thank you. It looks wonderful, but it sounds awful.” I wasn’t invited to Elliot’s seventh birthday party. I didn’t care. Sarah told me that Elliot’s mother made a pecan pie that year. Poor Elliot. I bet his mother gives out toothbrushes or ginger chews at Halloween.
    Belly walked up to the little girl in the lavender overalls and smiled and waited to be greeted. That’s how Belly introduces herself. She walks up and waits to be talked to, admired, or bowed to.
    The little girl held her hand out to shake and said, “My name is Harmony Patricia Draper, and this is Popcorn.” Harmony pointed to a brand-new red tricycle. “My mommy gave Popcorn to me.”
    I’ve never heard of anybody naming a tricycle, but I guess Popcorn’s a pretty good name if you’re going to do it. I would have named it Linus. It looked more like a Linus than a Popcorn.
    Belly said, “I LIKE YOUR HAIR,” and pointed to Harmony’s hair, which had about ten plastic hair clips in it. They weren’t holding her hair back. They were just clipped in randomly. A pink one was right above her forehead. An orange one was by her ear. And a blue one was at the very bottom of one of her three ponytails.
    India said that Harmony’s hair was a Glamour Do because she was five. She said if Lulu had the same hairdo, it would be a Glamour Don’t. I laughed at the thought of Lulu with three ponytails and lots of hair clips.
    “What if the manny had that hairdo?” I asked.
    “It would be a Glamour DOOFUS!” India said, and then she laughed a big “HA, HA, HA.”
    Belly and Harmony started playing with Harmony’s box of Barbies on the fake lawn. Belly kept scratching her legs, saying that the lawn was itchy and asking if there were ticks in it. Belly had a tick on her leg last summer that Mom had to remove with the tweezers. She screamed like Mom was removing her leg.
    While Belly and Harmony played, Mom and Dad decided to rest in the RV. The manny, Lulu, India, and I walked around the RV park. As we left the RV, Dad hung out the door and said loud enough for Grant and Dana to hear, “Hey, kids, remember to knock when you get back because your mother and I will probably be making out.”
    “Dad!” Lulu shrieked, staring at him without blinking, the same way she did to Belly when she stole pictures of Johnny Depp off her Hot Guy Wall. Belly taped them in her dollhouse like Johnny Depp