Dear Blue Sky (3 page)

CHAPTER 5

SWALLOW RIVER

WHEN I WOKE
Sunday morning, it was dark, but I could see the outline of trees through the window, and I could hear the birds singing. As if today was like any other day.

At nine, they would take Sef to some stupid parking lot where all the families met for the last good-bye. Then buses would take the recruits to the airport. Mom had decided it would be better for her and Dad to go alone with Sef. We were to say our last good-bye at home. No matter what, I wasn't going to cry.

I heard Sef outside our bedroom door. “Cass! Come on, Cassie.”

I slid out of bed and put on my sneakers. “Ready,” I said, and followed him out the door into the cold morning air.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I didn't sleep much.”

“Me either.”

We didn't talk much after that. It was enough to concentrate on breathing in and out, putting one foot in front of the other.

We took our usual route down Hawthorne, past the Adamses', the scrubby blackberry bushes, the Hendersons' broken-down Volkswagens, over the long stretch of cornfields, through the woods, and around Turtle Pond. We were going faster than usual, and by the time we were halfway around the pond, sweat was dripping down my face. This was how I always saw myself—running fast with Sef. What was I going to do tomorrow?

A dog barked across the water, and a duck skimmed over its glassy top, where the sun was slowly spreading its yellow light.

“Aren't they supposed to be leaving?” Sef asked, sucking in his breath.

“Yeah, seems like they stay longer and longer each year.”

“Hey, go south, before your asses freeze to the pond!” Sef yelled out, waving his arms.

Back on the road, I caught up to Sef. A couple of early morning cars beeped as they drove by. After today, they wouldn't see us.

“I'm dying,” Sef said, slowing to a walk. “You're working me harder than they did at training. Going to Iraq will be easy compared to this.”

“Yeah, right.”

Sef glanced at me. “Are you going out tomorrow morning? You're not going to quit on me, are you?”

“I don't know.”

“You have to, Cass. I'll be back before you know it, so don't get all out of shape on me. Seriously, why don't you get Dad to go with you?”

“Are you kidding? I'd have to hold cannolis in front of him or something.”

“That's true. He'd make it to the end of the driveway.”

“And Jack would probably whack me over the head with a bat,” I said.

Sef laughed and started jogging again. “He came pretty close to nailing Finn. What's up with that guy, anyway? Why was he singing ‘Peace Train' when I'm going to Iraq?”

“You mean ‘Peaze Train.'”

“Yeah.”

“I don't know what Van's thinking. She's been skipping field hockey to go to his band practice.”

“Really? He's kind of a flake. She'll get over him. But better keep an eye on her until she does.”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.”

“Where was Sonia last night?”

I shook my head. “She should have come.”

“None of them were there, were they?”

“No. I guess it was because of whatever happened last weekend with Mom and her dad. Sonia's not talking to me.”

“I bet it's nothing. Mom was just looped. Think she'll be all right?”

I turned quickly to him. We were supposed to act normal. He had enough to worry about. I tried to smile. “What are you worrying about us for, anyway? We'll be fine.”

“I can't believe I'm really going today.” He blew out sharp breaths of white air. The sky was pink and blue. “Race you to the driveway.”

We took off fast. If I could have stopped time, I would have stopped it then, right before we reached the end of the driveway, with just us running crazy, like no one could ever catch us.

Mom was cooking up eggs and bacon.

“Sef,” Jack said. His glasses were crooked. “I need to stay in your room until Christmas. Then I'll go to Iraq with you.”

Facing the stove, Mom's shoulders rocked up and down. Her eyes never turned from the frying pan.

“Sure, buddy. My room is all yours,” Sef said.

Upstairs, Van was pulling down the lower lids of her eyes to line them with a brown pencil. How could she be bothered today? I got in the shower and let the water pound my back. I had to hold it together at least until Sef left. We were supposed to be normal until then, Mom kept saying, like she knew what normal was. Everything was
until then
.

I didn't want to go downstairs and jumped when Dad yelled, “Cass, get down here. We're taking a family photo. Now!”

He was telling Jack to kneel and Sef to sit down. “It's your chair, Dad,” Sef said. “You should sit there.”

“Go ahead, Sef. We'll stand around you. That's how your mother wants it.”

The perfect family photo, I thought.

“Here. You're here,” Mom said to me, pointing to the right of Dad's chair.

I knelt down just like Mom wanted, but no one could make me smile. I sat there, frozen.

“One minute,” Dad said, setting the self-timer on his old Canon.

He jumped back and stood behind the right arm of the chair. “Everyone, say spaghetti and meatballs!”

They did. The camera went
click
! They were all smiling. After Dad took our picture, I saw the newspaper tossed on the floor. On the front page, there was a picture of a boy in a uniform like Sef's, smiling up at me. “Springfield Soldier Killed in Baghdad,” the caption said. I had to keep telling myself that Sef had chosen to go. He was going because he wanted to go, and he wouldn't let anything bad happen.

• • •

It wasn't until it was time to say good-bye that something inside me broke. Something that had been bending since the night Sef said he'd joined the marines. I ran out the front door and kept on running with the wind in my ears. I hurt so much, the only thing I knew to do was run.

I thought if I never said good-bye to Sef, then he wouldn't really be gone. It would be like he was waiting somewhere for me. The thing was, I knew he would understand. I ran in the opposite direction from Turtle Pond, past the apartment building with the giant flag, toward Swallow River and the hollowed-out tree that I liked to sit inside. Even after the freak snowstorm, there were still leaves—rusty brown, light gold, and orange. Where were the bright yellows and reds? They never came this year. Something was the matter with the world.

I stayed there for a long time, staring at the sky, listening to the roar of Swallow River. My chest ached. I traced the curve of my scar. I remembered when I ran into our glass door, cutting open my forehead the day I turned five. It was Sef who held me in the car, pressing cloths to my head. They turned red almost instantly. I asked him, “Did my brain fall out?”

“No. You're going to look really cool. Just wait. You'll be okay. Go faster, Mom, please.” He pressed another cloth to my head. “You're good. You're okay.”

“It hurts. Is the glass still in there?”

“No. No more glass.”

The blood kept gushing out. It covered Sef's hand, arm, and sleeve. It covered the seat underneath me. “Sef, there's too much blood.”

“You have lots more, don't worry. You're super brave. Speed it up, Mom.”

He held me in the waiting room, pressing packs of gauze on my head, one after another. He held me in the hospital room while I screamed as they sewed fourteen stitches into my skin. He was the one I trusted.

The trees shaded the banks on both sides of the river, and the water shone black and cold. It smelled of mud, cool water, and apples. I would stay until I thought Sef was on the bus with the other marines, heading to the airport.

I closed my eyes and imagined that, when I opened them again, everything would be the same as it was before. Sef would be here, and Sonia would be my best friend. We'd all be driving to Sef's basketball game. The gym would stink of sweat, and we'd clap and sway back and forth in the heat and bright lights, everyone yelling and cheering. We used to go to every game.

Mom was glassy-eyed and slumped on one end of the couch in front of the TV when I got home. Dad and Jack were sitting on the other end. Jack had
The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
open on his lap. Mom had a whole shelf of poetry books, though I never saw her reading them anymore.

On the TV, a lady with bobbed blond hair groaned when she saw her son's shirt stained with chocolate milk. The camera cut to her standing in front of the washing machine, spraying the shirt with stain remover. Next thing, she had a clean white shirt. Like magic. She smiled, flashing her shiny teeth.

I didn't call Sonia, I didn't do my homework, I didn't eat supper. I sat on the couch like a zombie, waiting for my life to become clean and white again like the shirt in the commercial.

Later, upstairs, I lay staring into the dark. There was a flash of light by the window. Was it Sef trying to tell me something?

I started looking for signs when Jack was a baby. Little signs that would tell me if he was going to be all right. If he smiled or laughed at me, that was a sign. If there was light in his eyes, that was a sign. Now I was looking for a sign that Sef would be all right.

CHAPTER 6

TINY PIECES

I WOKE IN
the same clothes I had on yesterday. I watched the sky turn pale yellow through the window, just making out the shape of the bird feeder that Sef had made for me. It was a wooden box with a triangular roof. There was a neat hole above the perch and slits under the sides of the roof. He gave them to everyone for Christmas presents the year he took shop.

I painted seven blue birds on mine because I was seven that Christmas; most of the paint was washed off by now. After he gave it to me, I asked him, “Why is the hole so small?”

He was resetting the perch on Mom's feeder. He looked up at me. “So the birds can poke their heads in without getting stuck.”

“They get stuck in there?”

“Well, they can't get through this small hole, don't worry.”

“Would they die in there?”

“No, they won't die.”

The white Christmas lights flashed on and off behind him.

“Sef,” I asked, “are you going to die before me?”

“Nope.” He grinned. “I'm not gonna die.”

I believed him.

• • •

The sky was slowly turning gray-blue now. Van slid out of bed. She padded down the hallway to the bathroom. I scooped up the stone that Sef had given me and squeezed it hard. In the dark it was a mud gray color. No blue, just the bottom of the ocean color. I lay there until Van came back with a towel wrapped around her head like a turban. “What are you waiting for,” she asked me, “Christmas?”

“Maybe.”

When I got downstairs, Van was pouring glasses of orange juice. Jack came in with his Spider-Man backpack hanging off the shoulders of his camouflage outfit. “You can't wear that again,” Van told him.

“I'm going to wear it every day. Like Sef. I'm the one.” Jack marched around the kitchen.

“You've been wearing it for, like, three days.” She pointed to the stains on the front of his shirt.

“Every day. I'm the next guy in line.”

“It's kind of disgusting.”

He paraded to the refrigerator, swinging his arms.

“Come on, let me help you find something new.”

“No.” Jack bit into a cold hot dog. “No way. It's mine. It's my job.”

We could hear Dad's footsteps. We could tell what kind of mood he was in by what he whistling. Today he wasn't whistling.

“Jack should change, Dad. He's been wearing that outfit for three days straight,” Van said. “It stinks. Look at it.”

Dad walked up to Jack and sniffed the air around him. “Smells okay to me.”

Jack smiled. Bits of hot dog were stuck in his teeth.

“How about one last day, buddy, and then we'll peel it off you and throw it in the wash, and you can wear it again tomorrow. Deal?”

Jack nodded.

Dad shrugged at Van, then opened Mr. Coffee and took out the filter soggy with yesterday's coffee grounds.

Mom appeared out of nowhere, her voice high and cracking. “I know you don't believe me, but it's true.”

“You've been wrong before,” Dad said.

“And I've been right before. Don't tell me I haven't.” Her face was pale, and her eyes were red and watery. “Remember Princess Di? Just a few days before it happened—it was like that.”

“Don't, Grace. Not now. The kids have to go to school.” He turned to us. “Your mother had one of her premonitions.”

“Don't patronize me, Joe. I saw it just like it was on TV. Don't pretend I didn't.” She flipped her long auburn hair over her shoulders and stared hard at us. “He blew up into tiny pieces, and the troops had to pick them up and put them in a bag—”

“Stop, Grace. Just shut up!” Dad yelled.

She left the room without another word.

“Sef's going to be fine,” Dad said to us. “Don't listen to your mother.”

This time it wasn't someone famous we'd heard about on TV. It was Sef. Jack started whimpering. The rest of his hot dog fell to the floor.

“Sef's fine,” Van told him. “Don't cry.”

“Tiny pieces,” he said. “Peazes—”

Dad held yesterday's coffee grinds over the sink full of grimy plates and glasses piled up. Then he just dropped the filter in and mumbled something about being late. Dad worked for a construction company that was turning a furniture factory into condos outside of Boston, a three-hour commute each day.

He looked lost when he turned toward the door. “Be good, kids,” he said, and disappeared.

We missed the bus. Van said we could have a ride in Finn's Rabbit. “Just today,” she told us.

“It's not a rabbit,” Jack said as we slid into the back. He rested his head on the window and made long moaning sounds that made his whole upper body shake.

“What's the matter with him now?” Finn asked Van. “He's not going to hit me over the head or anything, is he?”

Jack shook his head and moved closer to me. My legs were shaking, too.

“He misses Sef,” Van said.

“Tiny peazes,” Jack said softly.

Van turned in her seat and said to Jack, “Don't listen to Mom.”

“Peaze train!” Jack shouted.

“He's not going to do anything crazy, is he? I mean, should I pull over?”

“No, he'll be fine.”

I leaned toward the front seat. “Our mother told us she saw Sef blow up into pieces. One of her premonitions. She predicted Princess Di's car crash like two days before it happened. And JFK Junior too.”

“For real?” He started laughing.

Van glared at me. That was too much information.

Finn had to pull over to the side of the road, he was laughing so much.

“What's so funny?” I asked.

“You know, you guys totally bummed me out the other day when I was over there. But
you're
crazy. Not me.”

“Who's crazy?” Van looked like she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

“Forget it.” Finn wiped his eyes and laughed a little more before he stepped on the gas and pulled back on the road.

At least Jack had stopped groaning.

Mom shouldn't have said that in front of Jack. And she was wrong. I knew she was. Sef had always been lucky. It wasn't like his good luck could suddenly run out.

• • •

The day Sef turned twelve, Dad took him to the Hillview Gun Club. Dad said Sef had a really good shot. He hit everything. Some of the men there called him the Kid. Mom wasn't happy, but she didn't stop them. She did say no guns in the house, though.

One Sunday Sef came back with red eyes and went straight to his room. He didn't tell me until weeks later what had happened. A stray dog showed up at the club, a mutt. It bit one of the men when they tried to run it off. The man almost shot it, but the others told him to let the Kid do it.

“I had to,” Sef told me. “They were all cheering me on.”

“Why'd you have to?”

“I wanted to go back there, Cass. I love shooting with Dad.”

“What'd Dad say?”

“Nothing. He didn't say anything. Didn't tell me what to do either way. Better not tell Mom or Van either.”

“You really did that?”

“Yeah.” He was quiet, then his eyes got wet again. “The stupid dog had three legs, Cass. And the worst part was he looked at me right before I did it. I think it's gonna be bad luck.”

“Maybe,” I said. “What'd they do with it?”

“The dog?” He backed away from me then, and I thought,
I don't know this Sef
.

Sef was going to come back home. He had to. He couldn't die. But then it struck me that I'd only been thinking all this time about if Sef was killed. What if he killed someone else? He might have to. I knew then that when Sef came back, he wouldn't be the same person.