Things click into place for me instantly. “Yeah, Mom, it makes sense. Oh God, everyone thinks he really did keel over and have a heart attack or something. And all the kids are being so nice to me. Now I’m gonna look like a complete idiot when everyone knows it was all fake.” I am talking quietly, away from Ms. Patel, who is pretending to sort papers on the counter by the door.
“Ariel, it was a misunderstanding. No big deal. I am sorry if you were worried. I must admit your call did give me a fright. But everything’s okay,” she giggles, “and actually, I think it is kind of funny.”
“Ha.” I say it like it is the most unfunny thing I have ever heard. The bell rings, and I say good-bye and hang up. Ms. Patel asks me if everything is okay again. I nod briefly and leave.
I said earlier that Dad spoofs movies to make commercials for Island Sweets. When I was watching The Godfather for the fourth time a month or so back, he sat down and watched with me. That’s when he came up with the idea for two TV spots.
In the movie, there is this really awful, bloody scene, involving a horse’s head in this guy’s bed. I will not lie—it’s a disturbing sight. But anyway, Dad thought it would be hilarious to recreate the scene using chocolate. In the movie the guy wakes up and is covered in blood, and it’s all dramatic as he peels back the silk sheets and finds his horse’s head. Then he starts screaming.
Dad did the same scene for his ad, using the exact same silk sheets, and with the same music, but he is covered in chocolate as he dramatically pulls back the covers to reveal a huge pile of tofu and barley and stuff. Health nut foods. Then he screams dramatically like the guy in The Godfather did and the voiceover says, “Island Sweets, a family tradition since 1922.”
The thirty second spot was very popular. I think a few people might have even watched the movie because of it. Not that many kids had seen The Godfather before, but I know of at least two kids (okay, so they’re M and Nicki, but I bet other kids did too) who were interested in seeing it because of Dad’s commercial. Everyone thought it was hysterical, and so Dad decided to follow-up with another spot inspired by The Godfather.
This time he would do the death scene of Vito Corleone, the main character in the movie. In the movie, Vito is walking in his tomato garden with his grandson when he has a heart attack. My dad was going to spoof it in the Alameda community vegetable garden, where he was made-up and dressed to look just like Vito did in that scene. The son of a lady who makes custom wedding cakes for Dad’s store would play the grandson role. Dad would stroll through the garden and doing his imitation of Marlon Brando, the actor who plays Vito, but when he finally “dies” the “grandson” will turn to the camera and say, “Come into Island Sweets today and try our new Seven-Layer Candied Apples. They’re to die for!”
That’s the commercial dad was filming today. Wow, this goes to show how much people love to gossip and are so happy, actually eager, to think some tragedy has happened. That’s junior high for you. But I guess I got kind of caught-up too. I can’t wait to tell M and Nicki about it. I wonder if people will think I was milking it, acting sad and stuff. This is not a great way to start the school year. I can’t even believe this is only the first day of school.
I rush out of the office, but everyone is still in class. I will have to wait to tell M and Nicki what happened. I’ll be late to my first day of geometry, but Ms. Patel has already given me an excuse slip.
I find the new classroom quickly—I had American history in this room last year—and my new geometry teacher barely looks up as I wave my slip and find a vacant seat. I think over this crazy day, and wonder if the whole year is going to be this full of the unexpected. The earthquake flashes through my mind again, and I wonder why it seems to relate to today’s events. Finally, the bell rings and I head to biology, my last class of the day.
Easy “Certain Death” Orange Chicken1
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 C. orange juice
2 T. finely chopped orange zest (This is orange peel. You
can use a vegetable peeler to peel it off, but don’t peel
it so hard that the bitter, white pith comes off too.
Chop up the peels really small.)
20 to 30 Ritz crackers, crushed into meal (You can put
them in a ziplock bag, put a towel over the bag and
whack it with the bottom of a heavy pan until the
crackers are pulverized. It can be quite therapeutic
making your own crumbs this way.)
cooking spray
½ C. mustard plus 2 T. orange juice
Put orange juice, zest, and chicken in a 13x9˝ baking pan, cover, and marinate in refrigerator at least a couple hours, but preferably overnight. Preheat oven to 375°. Remove chicken from marinade, but allow some of the zest to remain clinging to it. Put the cracker crumbs in shallow bowl, and dip each chicken piece into the crumbs. Use your hands to pat and mash the crackers onto the surface of the chicken so it is well-coated. Wash out and dry your pan (throw out the marinade) and spray it with cooking spray. Put the chicken in the pan and spray the tops of the chicken breasts with cooking spray as well. Bake it for 40 minutes, or until you can prick it with a fork and the liquid that runs out is clear. Let it sit for a few minutes before serving. While it is sitting, combine the mustard and orange juice and use it for dipping sauce when you serve the chicken.
My Casa de Chaos
M and Nicki are coming over soon so we can do the first day postmortem. (That means “after death,” like an autopsy. I got the word from watching CSI.) We always hang out at my house because M’s mom seems to get nervous if we’re around too much, and Nicki’s house is so quiet and orderly we can’t really cut loose. My house, on the other hand, is generally kind of messy, usually loud, and frequently crowded because Ryan’s friends are always around. I think my parents like the chaos.
Another thing is the food. Our house is wellstocked with snacks and leftovers, and I am constantly making stuff for people to try. M and Nicki enjoy my culinary creations, but Ryan and his friends really devour everything. Sixteen-year-old boys eat like dogs—quantity seems to be the key factor, so I am not necessarily flattered when they inhale something I’ve made. I have seen three of them wipe out a family-size bag of tortilla chips, a vat of salsa, and a large package of Oreos in about three minutes.
As soon as the last bell rang, we had reunited next to the eighth-grade lockers. I explained The Godfather commercial confusion to them as we walked home.
We pile into my house, a bit out of breath from walking fast. I hang my keys on the little hook by the door as I say, “So you can see how it really would look like Dad keeled over in the community garden. I mean, he really did, technically.” By now, M and Nicki are both sort of chuckling about it, but shooting me little cautious looks too.
Nicki goes serious as she looks at me and asks, “You’re okay now?”
“Yes, no. I am totally relieved that Dad’s okay, but I can’t even fathom my embarrassment level about it all . . . the PA announcement, tripping, my Dad’s bad acting . . .” I throw my hand in the air dramatically and collapse onto a chair.
“Air, you’re funny—this whole thing is funny,” M gives me a playful punch on the shoulder.
“Hilarious,” I reply, holding my belly and shrugging my shoulders as though I am cracking up when in fact I am not even smiling.
M rolls her eyes and giggles.
Nicki, sensitive soul that she is, doesn’t