Another Kind Of Hurricane Part 10

chapter 21.

ZAVION.

Zavion had to get to Grandmother Mountain. That one thought was crystal clear in his mind. As crystal clear as the white lines running through the middle of his wis.h.i.+ng rocks.

Somewhere there was a person who could take him there.

But before that, Zavion had a debt to pay. He had to find a way to get money. He had to find a way to get Papa to take him back to New Orleans. He had to slow down his heart.

marble journey part III

PIERRE DUCHAMP.

Pierre opened the bag of clothes from the New Orleans Salvation Army.

s.h.i.+rts.

Socks.

Boxer shorts.

Sweats.h.i.+rts.

A pair of blue jeans.

He knew the people who came in to his Salvation Army. The Baton Rouge branch. He thought of them as his people.

They were certainly more his people than his own family.

- His own family opened their arms wide in the middle of winter, heads thrown back to the sky, mouths open, drinking in the wet, cold snowflakes. The more snow the better. They wors.h.i.+pped it. His brother s...o...b..arded. His sister skied. His sisters son played ice hockey, and her daughter did too. She was only ten, but she was already on a team. Had even won a few medals.

And his mother-well, his mother stayed home and made the hot chocolate. She couldnt watch any of them. Couldnt stand to watch the speed. Downhill, across the ice, or falling fast from the sky. Ever since her husband, Pierres father, had been killed in an avalanche back-country skiing. She couldnt bear it that all her children had been born with their fathers deep devotion to the snow and speed. She worried for them just as she had worried for her husband.

But she was also proud. She saw her husband in each of them.

Except for Pierre. Because Pierre hated the snow. Even before it took his father away, hed hated it. Hated how it melted into his skin and numbed him on the inside. And after his father was killed, he hated how it reminded him of his father.

So he had left the snow behind, left his family, and moved down to Louisiana.

He loved the thick, warm air here.

He loved the thick accents and the warm people.

He felt at home.

Even during Hurricane Katrina he had loved the city. In fact, he had found his bravery in that very storm. Saved a little girl who had been sucked into the water and carried away from her house.

Calm-bodied and clearheaded, he had stayed in the rising river for a good part of that first night, helping to rescue people.

- The bell rang above the front door of the store.

"Hey, Tavius," said Pierre.

"Hey there, Pierre. How are you?" said Tavius.

"Happy to see you," he said-and then he blushed. "I heard a few more folks have come to live with your brother," he added quickly.

"Yup."

"A boy and his father?"

"You have some magical antennae, dont you? I was just saying to Enzo, that youre like a b.u.t.terfly-"

Pierre blushed a second time.

"Dont they-dont b.u.t.terflies-they have an ability to smell with-you know-with their antennae?" said Tavius. "Not that you really have antennae..." He trailed off as he put two fingers on either side of his head. He wiggled them and laughed. Pierre laughed too.

"The b.u.t.terflies are at the peak of their life cycles this time of year," said Pierre.

"They sure are," said Tavius. There was a pause.

Pierre put his fingers up to his head too, and wiggled them. "I like being a b.u.t.terfly," he said. "Peak of my life cycle. I like that."

Tavius beamed.

"Here," said Pierre, taking his antennae down and picking up the garbage bag. "Take this bag of clothes. It just came from Cora in New Orleans. Theres some good stuff in here. Im betting the boy who just came to live with you could use it."

Tavius reached for the bag. His hand grazed Pierres as he took hold of it. Pierre looked up at him and smiled. Tavius was his people, that was for sure. Maybe even his one person.

"Hey," he said. "Before you go home. Do you want to get some coffee? Or go for a walk?"

chapter 22.

HENRY.

Mom had needed a little coaxing to give her blessing.

"You really want to go, Henry?" she asked. She sat on the front steps, dirt smeared across the knees of her blue jeans.

Henry nodded. He was perched on top of the fence at the side of the house. Jake leaned against it next to him.

"I dont know-"

"Please, Mom-"

"Its just so far away....How safe is it? What if its too hard to be there...in the middle of all that...chaos? Jake has a job to do. He cant just turn around and come home if you decide you want to leave-" Mom ran her hands through her hair and left a mark of dirt on her forehead.

"It might be good for him, Eliza," said Jake. His voice was quiet. "I can tell you Im counting on that for me."

Henry watched Mom look at Jake. She bit her lip.

"You told me I didnt need to go to school right now, remember?" said Henry.

"I remember. But what about seeing your dad on Monday?"

"Mom, I can miss that, cant I?"

Mom nodded. "You really dont mind taking him, Jake?"

"I promised him a trip. Id better make good on it." Jake smiled, but it stopped at his cheeks. His eyes looked sad.

Mom stood up then. She walked over to Henry and put her hands on his knees. Her fingernails were caked in dirt too.

"You go, then," she said. "Okay?"

"Okay," said Henry.

"Help Jake, okay?"

"Okay."

Mom looked at Jake. "I guess hes yours," she said. She touched Jakes shoulder. "Thank you." Then she sighed. "Ill miss you, Henry. And whos going to help me in the garden?"

"Brae will-"

At the sound of his name, Brae dropped the stick he was chewing and tipped his head to the side.

- Saying good-bye to Mom had been hard, but saying it to Brae was harder.

Brae had put his head into Henrys lap as soon as Henry sat up in bed the next morning. Henry scratched him behind the ears. "Im gonna miss you, boy," he said. After hed put on his football jersey, he asked Brae to sit, lifted his chin, and looked straight into his eyes. "Dont learn any new tricks while Im gone, okay?"

Brae licked his nose.

- Henrys ears were vibrating with sc.r.a.ps of sound. Boxes being dragged, boots shuffling, the three-note tune Jake endlessly whistled. Henry craned his neck from his seat in the front of the truck and saw a group of big-rig drivers by the police station, drinking cups of coffee. There was Jake, talking to the one woman there.

Stacks of bags and boxes were piled high in the back of the trailer. What was in them? Maybe Little League s.h.i.+rts or yo-yos or comic books or cookies. What would a kid all the way down in New Orleans do with a Green Mountain Insurance Company baseball s.h.i.+rt? One of the bags looked like it was full of stuffed animals, a black and white cow peeked its head out the top. Were there cows in Louisiana? Henry thought of the kinds of animals that were in New Orleans. Hed looked them up. Alligators, feral pigs, yellow warblers, sh.o.r.ebirds. And lots of b.u.t.terflies this time of year. Hed also looked up how far Louisiana was from Vermont. Almost sixteen hundred miles. Henry thought about how many times a marble would have to turn to get from here to there. He shook his head. Wayne would know how to do the math to figure that one out. Henry didnt have a freaking clue.

How long had it taken his marble to get to New Orleans? It hadnt rolled there-that was for sure. It had traveled just like he was about to, tucked away in a truck. Henry couldnt believe it. Here he was, in the parking lot of the state police department, in Jakes truck, almost on his way to New Orleans. He and Wayne had always wanted to go on a road trip with Jake. And Jake had promised them-this year would be their year- And now- Now- Wayne couldnt go. He would never be able to go.

Across the parking lot, a trucker Henry didnt recognize put a box into his trailer. The clouds behind him moved as he moved, like he was loading them onto the truck too, like he was s.h.i.+pping Vermont skies south with the yo-yos and comic books and cookies.

- Jake climbed into his seat. "This is going to be quite a field trip," he said. "I was talking with one of the other truckers-not a regular-her name is Margarita-do you know her? She lives in Underhill too, just moved there last year. She teaches Spanish, actually-I should tell Annie- Anyway, Margarita just got back. She said that the smell of garbage in New Orleans is overwhelming. The food-and-clothing drive coordinator said the same thing, and Margarita confirmed it. Cat litter and rotting milk, she said. Are you sure youre prepared for all that?"

Henry was never prepared for a math test, no matter how many practice problems his teacher gave.

He was never prepared for how lonely he felt at his dads house, even though he had gone there every Monday for the last six years of his life and his dad had a houseful of kids.

No, he was not prepared.

Jake laughed. "Me neither," he said before Henry had even opened his mouth. "Being prepared is not the issue. The issue is what you do when youre taken by surprise."

"Here-" said a voice.

Who was that? Henry leaned around Jake to look down at the ground. Talk about a surprise-a bad surprise! Nopie! Nopie was talking to Jake. "Some apple pie. I thought you could eat it on the ride."

"That was mighty thoughtful of you," said Jake. "Thank you. And thank your mom for me, okay?"

"Okay," said Nopie. "Good luck down there."

"Thanks."

Nopie stared up at Jake with his crazy-wide turtle eyes. Jeez. Wasnt he going to leave?

"Arent you going to wish me good luck too?" said Nopie finally.