“And I say,” Chaz cuts her off. “Natural wood is going to look ridiculous. The walls are going to be sparkling, twinkling lights outlining the room, the tables covered in satin with the moon rocks shining under glass, and after all that, we hang the moon on LL Bean furniture?”

“Oh my god, sis, you’re so right.” I did it again. I hurry on. “He’s right. You can’t have one element that doesn’t fit and make that the star of the show, pardon my pun. Think about the photos.”

He lets the “sis” slide because I’ve agreed with him, and he gives me a “thank you” look. “Okay, think about the photos,” Leeza replies. “If the rest of the wood is also white, you’ll barely register the moon.” Or people’s faces either, but I don’t offer this thought because, well, they’ve already paid for it all.

Ernie has forgotten us for a moment and is wandering close to the moon. Chaz and Ma Elena see this and instinctively get between him and it, envisioning what he might do to their centerpiece. He backs up, looking at it from afar, then says, “Black.”

Envisioning a black moon, Leeza looks like her head is ready to explode until he explains.

“Paint the entire frame flat black. Paint only the moon white. And then in the photos, the rest will disappear, so it really looks like you’re swinging on a crescent moon.”

I cannot believe I didn’t think of it first, and they cannot believe that Ernie did. Chaz looks at Ernie like Iggy Stardust has descended from Mars. “That’s genius! You totally win.”

Ernie basks in the attention and keeps going. “Make sure you paint every bit of the frame—backsides, undersides, bolts—so there’s no chance of any place not reading as black and pulling from the moon. Use flat black, not a gloss, so it catches no reflection. And have it on a black drop cloth, not the cafeteria floor, which is light gray and will act like a white.”

Everyone is nodding approval.

Is this the first time in four years at First Secondary that Ernie has gotten credit for something good?

Speaking of which, Chaz is almost floating with excitement. “I’ll run over to industrial arts and get black. You guys start on the white.” I spot an opening and offer to go with. I’m happy to have a moment alone with Chaz and finally get my plan in motion.

As Chaz heads for the door, I take in the unexpected view of Ernie in the thick of things, and I start to wonder if maybe I’m here for a twofer: making life better for Ernie, too. But I’m already dropping the ball on my main plan—the clicking of a metal door tells me Chaz has left without me.

In the Closet

In the Closet