The Messy Life of Blue

by Shawna Railey

  I shook my head.

  “When you were a baby, sometimes Seth would act out. He was probably just jealous of the attention you were getting. Well, for whatever reason, he always seemed to calm down if he had something to drink. Your mom was brilliant and used that time to soothe him.”

  He stared into his milk, and I thought about what Seth had said about Dad not being able to make eye contact when talking about Mom and the day he brought Arnie home.

  “I don’t know why she died, Blue. I’m sorry that I can’t give you a good answer.” He tried to look at me, but tears started welling in his eyes. He looked back down. “I tried to find out. Was it something we did? Something we didn’t do? We read everything we could. We made our appointments. I mean, we’d already had three kids, so . . .”

  I knew it couldn’t be their fault; they were the best parents in the world. But I couldn’t find anything to say.

  Dad cleared his throat. “Sometimes mothers don’t get the care they should.”

  I walked around the table to him, and he put his arms around me. None of this was fair. Not to him, not to me, and not to her. I wanted to be sad, but at that moment all I could feel was anger. I wanted to throw my glass of milk through the window. It was all so stupid. My mother didn’t do anything wrong!

  “Your mom loved you so much. She loved all of you, more than anything. Even herself. All she ever wanted was for her children to be happy and healthy. And you are.” He tried to force a small smile, but he couldn’t hold it. “Please forgive me for not telling you, Blue. I was only doing what I thought was best. And whatever you do, don’t blame Arnie. It’s not his fault.”

  “Milk-milk time!” I heard from the top of the stairs. A moment later, Arnie stood in the doorway, his blankie trailing behind him and grinning from ear to ear. “Milk-milk time for Arnie!”

  I stood up from the table so quickly, I accidentally scraped the chair against the tile floor.

  “Wait, Blue,” I heard my dad call, but I was already racing back up to my room. I couldn’t bear to be in the same room as Arnie. It was too much to handle. His cute little smile wasn’t so cute anymore.

  Well, it was still pretty cute.

  But it also reminded me of my mom’s, and it was all just too much right then.

  Once I was back in my room, I lay on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. I thought about everything my dad had told me. The sound of my clock filled the silence.

  Ticktock. Ticktock. Ticktock.

  I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but my head was still swirling with too many thoughts. I tried to think of something else to distract myself. I pictured rainbows, which made me think of crayons, which made me think of Arnie coloring at the table. I tried to count sheep, which made me think of a farm, which made me think of singing “Old MacDonald Had a Farm” with Arnie.

  Ticktock. Ticktock. Ticktock.

  I pulled my pillow over my head and tried to block out the sound of my clock, but it was still there. I stood up and yanked its cord out of the wall. That shut it up.

  I reached under my bed and pulled out my super-secret stash of stuffed animals. I was way too old to play with them—obviously. But I could still take them out and stand them up all in a line. I mean, just to look at them.

  Except Patty Panda looked kind of sad just sitting there, so I had no choice but to pick her up and hold her in my lap. And when I did that, Georgie the Llama eyed me like I’d betrayed him, so I had to hold him, too. From there it was all downhill. Norma, Nina, and Nancy all wanted love. And Ryder and Pinkie, too. Pretty soon they were all piled around me, snuggling close and warm. It’s not like I wanted them or anything. It’s just that they were making me feel guilty with the looks they were giving me.

  I picked up Ginger, a tattered reindeer with extremely large eyes, and stared at her matted fur. She looked more loved than all the others, which is exactly as it should have been. She was my favorite. I carried Ginger everywhere the year my mom died. The year Arnie was born.

  There was a soft knock on my door. I shoved as many stuffed animals as I could into the box while calling out, “Just a minute.” I was sliding the whole thing back under my bed when my dad cracked the door open.

  “Good night, Blue. I’m glad you’re home safe.” I didn’t say anything. After a moment, he shut the door softly, and I listened as he walked away.

  I still didn’t know how to feel about everything. I was mad at my dad for lying and not trusting us with the truth. I was sad and confused that Arnie was the cause of my mother’s death. I felt guilty for running away and making everyone worry. I didn’t understand why Seth wasn’t as upset as me. Only yesterday, everything seemed so simple. Now I didn’t know what to say or how to feel about anything. All I knew was that I missed my mom more than ever.

  I was about to jump back onto my bed when I saw Ginger poking out from underneath my bed. Her tiny antlers stuck out from under the bed skirt and one of her giant eyes caught the light. I must have missed placing her in the box with the others in my rush to put them all away. I picked her up and remembered a day long ago.

  It was shortly after my mom died, just a normal day. The sun was out and there were no clouds in the sky, but I remember there was still a cold breeze in the air. My dad called me into the kitchen to talk, just the two of us. He gave me the stuffed animal, and I asked him why he got it for me. He told me, “Well, I guess it kind of reminded me of you. It has big beautiful brown eyes, just like you. And just like your mother.”

  I didn’t cry when he said that. I thought at the time that I should’ve cried, but I didn’t. Instead I went to a bookshelf that had an assortment of picture frames displayed and found the one I was looking for. I reached for the shiny silver frame and held it in my hands. I stared down at the photograph inside. My mother looked back at me, her giant brown eyes shiny from the camera’s reflection. Her hair was long, longer than I remembered. She looked younger, too. But her smile was the same. And so were her eyes.

  I placed Ginger on my bed and slid open the bottom drawer of my dresser. Tucked underneath my clothing was the photograph, still encased in the same silver frame. I kept it after that day and hid it in my room. If my dad noticed, he never said anything.

  I climbed onto my bed, Ginger in one hand and the photo in my other. I stared at my mother’s eyes like I had so many times before. Only this time, I noticed something different. It was true—I had my mother’s eyes, and looking at hers was like looking into my own. But my brother had her same eyes as well.

  Arnie.

  I wiped away a tear and put the picture frame back in its hiding spot. Then I tiptoed down the hall to Arnie’s room. He was sleeping, lying sideways across the bed with his left foot dangling off the edge. I thought about wrapping him in the blanket and rolling him down the driveway. It wasn’t a terrible plan.

  I went to him and pulled at his blanket, visions of him bumping along the concrete still fresh in my mind. Instead of rolling him like a burrito, I gently pulled him up, so that his head rested back on the pillow. I covered him up once again and brushed his hair off his forehead. Then I tucked Mr. Bunny Boo under his arm and crept away.

  The truth was that I was a tiny bit angry with Arnie, but I was surprised to realize that I still really liked him, too. Especially when he was sleeping. And quiet.

  I rounded the corner to my room and almost ran into Seth standing in front of my door.

  “You okay?” he asked. I brushed past him, and he followed me into my room.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled.

  “Do you hate Arnie?”

  I grunted. “Not as much as I hate Jackson.”

  “Everyone hates Jackson,” he said, and I smiled before I could stop myself.

  I leaned back on my bed, and Seth sat down on the edge.

  “Can I tell you something?”

  I hesitated. “What?”

  “We’re going to be okay.”

  I couldn’t help it. I hugged him.

  When Seth
stood up, he said. “You’re just like her, you know.” I must have looked as surprised as I felt, because he shook his head. “It’s true. I knew her the longest.” He picked up Ginger, and for a second it looked like he was going to hug her. Instead, he chucked the reindeer at my face and she bounced off my forehead. “Score!” He raised his arms into the air as he left my room.

  I thought back to the mother I knew. The one who called me “baby girl” and rocked us all to sleep. The mom who made me strawberry soup when I had a sore throat and wore the macaroni necklace I’d made her for Mother’s Day every single day for the next week. I sure didn’t feel as nice as she was.

  I turned off the light and snuggled into my blankets, thinking about what Seth had said. Was I really like our mom? I pondered the idea as I drifted off to sleep, Ginger held tightly in my arms. I decided she could sleep with me again just this once. I could always put her back in the box tomorrow.

  17

  Weeks flew by and life went on.

  Right before school ended, Marley and I finished our book report on Charlotte’s Web, and we got an A on our oral presentation. My dad got a raise at work and bought himself a shiny new laptop. Seth got a girlfriend—yep, Keira from the pool. Jackson entered an art contest and got second place for his drawing. Arnie was still speaking in third person—and Blue still thought that was weird.

  Yep. Life went on.

  It was finally officially summer. That, combined with it being Friday afternoon and the start of the weekend, had me practically singing as I crossed the street back home from Kevin’s house.

  Some people look forward to football season. Some people look forward to their bar mitzvah. Some people look forward to a hot cup of tea on a cold winter night. But me? I look forward to the weekend. It’s like an official holiday two days out of every week. I mean, I get to go to bed later, which is my absolute favorite part. I also get to sleep in later, and even if I technically don’t, I still could if I really wanted to. Also, most of the time my dad is so tired by Friday night that he just orders pizza. The weekend is a nonstop party, if you ask me.

  And this particular weekend was getting upgraded to THE BEST WEEKEND EVER.

  On Sunday afternoon, a limousine was going to pick us up from our house and take us to a fabulous hotel. Normally, the winners of the Family Tree contest would have been flown to California, but since we already live there and San Diego is only two hours away from Hollywood, they decided to send a car for us. That’s the fancy way to say it, I think.

  “We will send a car for you,” they said.

  “That would be lovely,” my dad said.

  Then we all jumped up and down, hands together, with our mouths open wide in silent screams. A real-life limousine!

  Once we arrive and check into the hotel, we’ll get to swim or do whatever we want. On the next day, we’re going to visit the set of my favorite TV show, Family Tree. And then, as if all of that isn’t enough, I am really, truly, legitimately going to meet London Malloy, the greatest actress ever and my soon-to-be new best friend. I’d never met anyone—besides my brothers—who had lost their mother, like me. London and I would have so much to talk about, I didn’t even know where to start.

  Unfortunately, the prize was only for a family of four, and we were a family of five. This meant one of us couldn’t go. Luckily, Arnie didn’t realize what he’d be missing, so he wasn’t upset at all when my dad told him he’d be staying home. And I don’t blame him. If it wasn’t my favorite TV show we’d be visiting and if it wasn’t my favorite actress we’d be meeting, I’d want to stay home, too. It was all on account of Uncle Harley and how much we all love him.

  Uncle Harley is my mom’s brother. His real name is Eugene, but like me, no one ever called him by his for-reals name. This is because he doesn’t look like a Eugene at all. He’s a giant—he is the tallest man I know—and he is burly and loud with a deep voice that rumbles like thunder. His hair is so gray it’s almost white, and it sticks out all around him and mixes into his beard so you don’t know where his head hair begins and his beard hair ends.

  The first time Arnie saw a picture of Santa Claus, he pointed and said, “Uncle Harley!” I kind of had to agree. If Santa had tattoos and rode a Harley, then my uncle would definitely be him. This wasn’t only because they looked so much alike, although they both had that red-cheeked jolly look about them. It was also because my Uncle Harley was one of the nicest and kindest people I had ever met. Really. He would risk his life to save a baby kitten. Well, anybody would save a baby kitten. But he would also risk his life to save Jackson—so that’s saying something.

  I didn’t need the motorcycle in the driveway to tell me my uncle was already there—I could hear his booming voice all the way from the street. I burst through the front door and followed the sound of his laughter. It took me into the backyard, where the rest of my family was already gathered at the patio table, everyone except for Arnie. It was still his nap time, so he was probably upstairs sleeping.

  Uncle Harley was front and center. He looked the exact same as every other time I’d seen him: black leather vest, jeans, and studded boots. With a mess of wild hair, of course.

  “I’m so glad you’re here! I thought you weren’t coming until later tonight,” I said. Uncle Harley wrapped me up in a giant bear hug.

  “The drive was faster than I thought. Besides, I can’t pass up one of your dad’s delicious home-cooked meals.”

  Jackson and I exchanged a look. I don’t think either one of us wanted to expose the truth about our dad’s cooking skills.

  “He’s joking,” my dad said, ruffling Jackson’s hair. “He’s had my cooking before.”

  I wandered inside to pour myself a glass of iced tea and then went back outside to sit with my family. Seth was talking to Uncle Harley about surfing.

  “It’s all about that perfect wave, you know?” Seth said, demonstrating with his hands. “It’s like a roller coaster ride on water. I can’t wait to show you when we get there.”

  “Get where?” I asked.

  “We’re going to the beach this afternoon.” My dad looked down at his watch. “Actually, we should probably start getting our stuff together. Jackson, did you put the sunscreen back in the cabinet?”

  “What? Wait a second. Uncle Harley just got here and now we’re all leaving to go to the beach?”

  “That’s right,” my dad said. “And I need you to make sure Arnie feeds his turtle before we go.”

  Shocked, my mouth dropped wide open. I glanced at the tree in the corner of the backyard that was Fruit Ninja’s home. Even though I only looked for less than half a second, I realized it was enough to give me away. Now my dad knew that I knew that he knew that I knew.

  “You knew this whole time?” I asked him incredulously.

  “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice a turtle living in our yard?” My dad shook his head. “Amateurs.”

  I went to wake Arnie from his nap, but he wasn’t in his room. After a couple minutes, I finally found him sitting under the dining-room table, crashing his toy trucks together. “You need to feed your turtle before we go to the beach,” I told him, leaning down so he could see my face. “Try giving him a banana.”

  Arnie crawled out from under the table and left, so I made my way toward my room to change into my bathing suit. I was halfway up the stairs when I heard Arnie crying out.

  “Fruit Ninja’s gone!” he howled between tears.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, hurrying back down. He ran into my arms, so I held him tight against me.

  “Arnie looked all over, but he’s not there,” he said, the words muffled by my shirt. “He’s gone!”

  “It’s okay, Arnie. I’m sure he’s just hiding somewhere.” I gave him a squeeze and then pulled him away so I could look down at him. “Come on. I’ll help you find him.”

  He followed me toward the back door, hiccupping and sniffling as he tried to calm down.

  I wasn’t too worried, as I was sure
the turtle was just hiding somewhere. His enclosure was pretty big, and there were lots of places he could tuck himself into. I held Arnie’s hand as we trekked out into the backyard, but Arnie was right. When we got to his special tree, Fruit Ninja was nowhere to be found.

  “See?” Another giant tear fell from Arnie’s eyes, but I could see he was trying so hard to be brave. “He’s gone.”

  “It’s okay, Arnie. We’ll find him.” I hoped. “Let’s look around the yard.”

  We looked everywhere. We searched through the grass and bushes, under the deck and over the rocks. We checked the front yard and the side of the house. Fruit Ninja must’ve been a real-life ninja, because we couldn’t find that crazy turtle anywhere.

  “I’m sorry, Arnie. I don’t know where else to look.”

  “Mrs. Atchinson? Arnie found him in her garden. Maybe he went back.”

  I gazed at the back of Mrs. Atchinson’s fence and thought about it. I mean, it was possible that the little turtle made his way back over there. I looked back at Arnie and saw his eyes light up with the renewed hope that Fruit Ninja could still be found. I knew then that I had to at least try.

  “Okay, this is what we do. Since, technically, you’re not allowed in her garden, you can keep watch. I’ll hop over the fence and look for him. Where was he again?”

  “Next to the peas.”

  “Arnie! You were eating the sugar snaps, weren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Arnie . . .”

  He sighed. “Arnie ate the peas.”

  I put the vegetable dilemma to the side and focused on finding Fruit Ninja. Mrs. Atchinson lived directly behind us, so the backsides of our yards shared a fence. Arnie made sure no one was looking while I climbed over the fence. As soon as I dropped down into her yard, I raced over to her vegetable garden.

  I pawed through her lettuce and tomatoes, searching for Fruit Ninja. I lifted leaves and shuffled through the dirt, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. I was standing up to leave when I heard something next to me. Arnie was crouched down next to the sugar snap peas.