by Barbara Dee
We each picked a chair and sat down in this order: Mom, Gabriel, Dad, me.
The overhead lights buzzed.
Nothing happened.
“She’s never late,” Mom explained to me. “We’re a minute early.”
“You’re always early for everything,” Gabriel said.
I eyed him. Was that a complaint? Was that what this “session” was about—complaining about each other?
Would Gabriel have a complaint about me?
I rubbed on some ChapStick.
The door opened. A small Black woman with waist-long braids and a heavy-looking turquoise necklace padded in. She wore an ankle-length plain blue dress, sort of like an overgrown sweatshirt, and ballet flats, and as she shook everyone’s hands, her feet swished against the carpeting.
“I’m Gabriel’s psychologist, Dr. Imani Watkins,” she told me. She had a bright, clear voice and a sweet smile. “You can call me Imani, if you like.”
“Okay,” I murmured.
“Well, I’m delighted to finally meet you. Gabe’s told me so much about you,” she said, still smiling.
I looked at Gabriel. He shrugged, almost like he was embarrassed.
The session started. Imani talked a bunch about Gabriel’s medicines—which she called “meds”—and Mom and Dad asked questions about dosage and interactions. Once in a while Gabriel added something, but I couldn’t follow any of this conversation, to be honest, and I started to wonder what I was even doing there. So I just sat fingering the tiny chair Gabriel had given me, zipped up in my hoodie pocket. And staring at the nowhere-scapes, trying to imagine why anyone would paint them.
After about ten minutes, Imani turned to me and smiled. “So, Zinny,” she said. “This session is meant to be a conversation. Would you like to ask your brother any questions?”
This startled me. I wasn’t prepared—I had nothing but questions, really. Will you ever be coming home? Were you trying to hurt yourself—kill yourself—with the car? How come you never told us you needed help? But as I sat in this small room with the buzzing light, my brain had logged out.
I shook my head.
“Zinny has been so great through this whole thing,” Dad said. “Such a huge help at home. Especially with her brother Aiden.”
“That’s wonderful,” Imani said, nodding.
“Zinny, tell Imani about Aiden’s how-to project,” he said.
I squirmed in the chair. How much did Dad know about Aiden’s project? More than I’d realized, apparently.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” I said. “It’s kind of long.”
“Well, your parents are clearly very proud of you, Zinny,” Imani said. “How does it make you feel to hear that?”
“Okay,” I said, sliding my index finger around the tiny chair thingy.
“Just okay?” She kept her eyes on me.
Everyone was watching me, waiting for me to speak, but I couldn’t. All I wanted was to escape—and if there’d been an aeration tube somewhere in the ceiling, I’d have figured out a way to crawl out.
“Zinny?” Imani said in a soothing voice, the kind you’d use to lure a cat hiding under the sofa. “Can you tell us what you’re feeling right now?”
UGGGHHH. That question again. Everybody watching, waiting for my answer.
“Mad,” I blurted.
Mom’s face crumpled.
“Not just mad,” I said immediately. “Also sad. It’s not one thing.”
“Can you explain, Zinny?” Imani asked gently.
“Just, I don’t know! I wish I weren’t here.” I took a breath. “I wish we were all home, and everything was back the way it used to be. And that our whole family wasn’t only about this all the time!”
Dead silence in the room, except for the buzzing.
“Yeah, me too,” Gabriel said. “Absolutely.”
Something made me keep going. “And you know what else I wish more than anything? That this whole thing wasn’t a big secret!”
Gabriel stared at me. “What are you talking about?”
“We’re not supposed to tell people about it! About you.”
Gabriel’s eyes filled with tears. He didn’t say anything for a second. Then he turned to Mom and Dad. “How come?” His voice broke. “Why would you say that to her? Is that what you told Scar and Aiden?”
“Sweetheart, please don’t be upset,” Mom said quickly. “We just thought with everything you were going through, you’d want some privacy—”
“Well, I don’t,” Gabriel said. “This is my life, Mom. From now on! And I don’t want Zinny, or anyone else in the family, acting like there’s something to hide about it! Like there’s something to be ashamed about!”
“We’re not ashamed,” Mom cried out. “Oh, Gabe, how can you say that?”
Yes, he’s doing well. All healed up and back at college. Studying dinosaurs—
Gabriel’s face was red. “Mom, are you seriously asking me this? Because that’s exactly how it seems!”
“Sweetheart, please—”
“You’re right,” Dad said all of a sudden.
Mom shot him a look of disbelief. “Eric. I thought we agreed—”
But Dad kept talking to Gabriel in a strange, choky voice. “Mom and I were just trying to think about you, what you wanted, Gabe. What you needed from us. But we should have asked you. We were wrong. And please believe me, I’m—we’re both—very sorry.”
Dad covered his face and his shoulders shook. I was so used to Mom’s way of crying that at first I didn’t realize Dad was crying—but he was, even though he made no noise. I’d never seen him cry before this minute, and it gave me a hollow feeling inside. Kind of a bottom-step-collapsing sort of feeling.
Then, not looking up, Dad reached out his hand, and Gabriel grabbed it.
Mom burst into loud, wet sobs and threw her arms around Gabriel. “Me too,” she said. “Oh, me too! I’m so, so sorry, baby.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” Gabriel murmured, not letting go of Dad’s hand.
Now my throat ached and my eyes were stinging. And what was I supposed to do? Get up and join the teary hug? It was about Gabriel forgiving Mom and Dad, not me.
But it felt weird just to sit there. So I went over and threw my arms around them. We stayed like that for a minute or two.
When I sat back down, I glanced at Imani, whose eyes were closed. Maybe, I thought, she was giving us all privacy. She’s probably used to stuff like this. Definitely more than I am. Anyway, I thanked her in my mind for not watching.
When Mom finally took her seat again, Imani passed around the box of tissues. “It’s very good that we were able to get that out in the open. Thank you, Zinny, for sharing that. I feel like we’re making so much real progress here.”
Mom blew her nose. “Speaking of progress, Imani. When will Gabriel be coming home, do you think?”
“That’s a decision for the medical doctors. But as Gabriel knows, at this point we’ve been discussing July as a realistic goal.”
Mom let out a squeal. Dad coughed into his tissue.
July wasn’t soon—but it was a page on the calendar. You could even turn to it and see the Rescue Dog of the Month.
My eyes filled with happy tears.
Then Imani started another speech about the schedule for Gabriel’s therapy. I couldn’t make sense out of it—and I didn’t need to. All I needed to know was one word: July.
A word that was Normal Standard Time.
July, July, July.
Monday, Lunch Period
At lunch, I had the idea of bringing Kailani and Asher to visit the crayfish. Part of this was to let Kailani see how nice Asher was, once you got to know him. Also, I wanted Ms. Molina to see that Kailani and I were friends again. Real friends, even better than before.
So the three of us got sandwiches from the lunchroom and brought them upstairs to her lab. Ms. Molina was at her laptop, a bit distracted, I thought, but she still showed Asher and Kailani all the cool stuff: the hissi
ng cockroach, the shark teeth, the best cacti, and all seven of the crayfish. (Ashleigh was molting, so we spent the rest of the period just watching her.)
When the bell rang, Ms. Molina tapped my arm. “Zinny, can I speak to you privately?”
“Sure,” I said.
I said good-bye to Asher and Kailani.
My teacher closed the door. “Don’t worry, this is good news,” she explained quickly. “I just heard from Blue Shoals Marine Lab, and you got in.”
I stared at her, not understanding. “You mean to that summer program?”
“Yes,” Ms. Molina said. “Exactly.”
I screamed and jumped. Ms. Molina laughed.
“It’s going to be so fantastic,” she said. “The best summer ever. Here, look.” She turned her laptop so I could see.
Welcome to the Blue Shoals Marine Lab summer program for highly motivated middle schoolers! This year, our celebrated program runs four weeks, from July 13 to August 7.
July.
July, July, July.
“Oh,” I said.
Ms. Molina smiled into my face. “Sounds awesome, right? You can’t believe it?”
“I can’t go.”
“What? Why can’t you?”
“I just… have something else to do,” I said.
“What is it?”
“I can’t talk about it,” I said.
Although now I could, because it wasn’t a secret anymore.
But it was still too much to explain.
Rest of the Spring
That was the last time I went to Ms. Molina’s lab during lunch.
Now I had kids to eat lunch with—Kailani, Asher, Keira. Sometimes we ate with Li-Mei, Priya, and even James Ramos (who, it turned out, actually did have a crush on Kailani). And a few times Maisie joined us. We weren’t going to be friends again, not like before, but we were okay enough to eat lunch at the same table, which was a big relief.
Besides, in science class one day, Ms. Molina announced that she’d be packing up all the tanks and sending off the crayfish. To visit another school twenty miles away, she said.
So I told myself there was no point, anyway.
The Last Weekend of School
School ended with two big parties—one at Li-Mei’s house, one at Jayden’s. I went to both—even though Jayden’s made me nervous, because, except for Asher and Keira, it was all eighth graders, ecstatic about their graduation from middle school.
Jayden even danced with me once. (I knew it didn’t mean anything—he was so popular that like five other girls danced with him first—but I also told myself it didn’t mean nothing. Maybe.)
Anyhow, when the music ended, the two of us walked over to the pizza table, where Keira, Luz, and Asher were arguing about toppings. “Sorry, but pineapple does not belong on pizza,” Luz was saying.
“How can you say that if you haven’t even tried it?” Keira shouted.
“I don’t have to try it to know it’s just wrong! Some things are so completely obvious! What do you think, Zin?”
“Me?” I said. “I’ve never even thought about pineapple on pizza.”
“Well, think about it now!” Keira said. “We demand you take a side!”
I chose a slice of pizza with pepperoni. “I think everyone should eat whatever they like. But they should also try new things, even if, truthfully, it sounds disgusting.”
“Thanks?” Keira stuck her tongue out at me.
“Well, I think Zinny gave the perfect answer,” Jayden said.
“So do I,” Asher said, smiling. (I mean, smiling for Asher.) “Anyhow, it’s a stupid argument.”
“We’re aware it’s stupid,” Keira informed him. “That’s kind of the point, Asher.”
I looked at the four of them.
“You know what?” I blurted. “I think I’m going to miss our stupid arguments.”
Luz patted my back. “Never fear, Zin, there is definitely more Eunice in your future.”
“Eunice?” Keira said, laughing. “That’s the best name yet!”
“Thank you.” Luz grinned. “Anyway, my point is you guys can’t escape Lunch Club. Mr. Patrick will hunt you down.”
“He will,” Jayden agreed. “So the three of you can keep stupid-arguing all you want. And Luz and I aren’t disappearing—we’ll just be over at the high school.” He smiled at me. “So anyway… what are you doing this summer, Umzinnia?”
“Me?” I took a small bite of pizza.
“Yes, you,” Luz said. “And you’re not squirming out of this question either.”
They watched as I chewed the pepperoni.
“Um,” I said. “Well, actually, I think I’ll be hanging out with my brother.”
“You mean Aiden?” Asher asked.
“No, my older brother. Gabriel.” I put down the pizza and wiped my mouth with a napkin. Then I said, “He’s been away at a residential treatment center for this mental illness he has—bipolar disorder—but he’s ready to come home now, so. I think he’ll need help, maybe, I don’t know. Or just company.”
“That’s really great, Zinny,” Asher said quietly. “That he’s coming home, and everything.”
“Yeah, it is.” Jayden looked at me with his beautiful eyes.
“Thanks for telling us,” Keira said, not adding the word “finally.”
Luz just threw her arms around me and squeezed tight.
Middle of June/Early July
And snap: now it was summer.
Scarlett was bagging groceries at Ellman’s Market, Aiden was going to town camp with Rudy, and my plan was to walk neighborhood dogs to earn some money. That and hang out with my friends. But mostly with Gabriel, who would be coming home on July 2.
Although first Mom and Dad decided our house needed painting—so for the last few days of June, we all helped. Aiden chose blue for his room, and Scarlett and I chose a sunny yellow. Gabriel said he wanted his room painted white—it just seemed clean, he said, like a fresh start.
“Okay,” Mom said, “but don’t you want maybe a little color?”
“No,” he said firmly. “Besides, I won’t be there very much when I go back to college.”
Mom didn’t answer. I wondered if that meant Gabriel was actually returning to school in the fall, or if Mom just didn’t want a big argument.
Or just that big argument.
* * *
A few days later Mom and I were in the garden, picking some lavender. Mom had this idea that she wanted to make little silk bags of dried herbs—sachets, she called them—to give to Imani and some of the staff at Redwoods Village who had helped Gabriel these past six months.
“And one for Ms. Molina, too,” she added. “As a thank-you. Not just for giving us all these herbs, but also for nominating you for that special program.”
“Yeah, well,” I said uncomfortably. “Actually, I’m not doing that program.”
She looked up at me. “But Ms. Molina told us you got in.”
“Yeah, I did. I’ve just been thinking that… I’d rather be home this summer. With our whole family.”
With Gabriel, I meant. But probably that was obvious.
Mom exhaled slowly. “That’s fine, sweetheart, if it’s really what you want. No one’s forcing you to go. But can I tell you something I’ve learned in therapy? Whatever’s going on with Gabriel, it’s important for us—our whole family—to keep doing the stuff we care about. All the things that make us who we are.” She brushed my arm with a bunch of lavender. “Including funny-looking sea creatures.”
I decided not to point out that crayfish weren’t sea creatures. “Maybe, but what about you, Mom? You care about being a teacher, right? So when are you going back to work?”
“September.” Mom was smiling now. Her face still looked tired, but it was her regular smile. “After the summer, I’ll be teaching eleventh grade again. And I can’t wait.”
* * *
On July 2, Mom and Dad drove to Redwoods Village to bring Gabriel home.
I stayed behind to make welcome-home cupcakes, because it seemed like we should celebrate. So I made Luz’s recipe: chocolate, with a big blue G on every one.
Mom, Dad, and Gabriel arrived home in the evening. Mom and Dad looked exhausted when they got out of the car, but Gabriel seemed happy to be back. Scarlett told him all about her road test (which, yay, she’d passed) and this boy she liked who Gabriel knew. Aiden wouldn’t shut up about some video game he’d heard about from Rudy.
Gabriel ate two cupcakes and kissed my cheek.
“Tomorrow we’ll go to Here’s the Scoop,” he told me. “And we’ll get Monster Cones, okay?”
“I wanna come too!” Aiden wailed.
“Next time, buddy,” Gabriel said, mussing his hair. “Tomorrow it’s just me and Zinny.”
I felt so happy it was like I was made of light molecules. Like I was swimming through bubbly water.
“Yeah, well, I’m driving,” Scarlett informed him loudly.
July 3
Just like Gabriel said we would, the next day we went to Here’s the Scoop.
And Scarlett drove us. “I’m not even jealous of you guys,” she announced as we entered the parking lot. “I don’t even feel the teeniest bit left out.”
“You can join us if you want,” I said.
“Nah, I have work, and afterward I’m going over to Jamilla’s. Anyway, tomorrow Gabe and I are taking the red wagon out for a spin, and you can’t play with us, Zinnia. Joking,” she added, sticking her tongue out at me.
All three of us laughed so loudly a woman in the parking lot gave us a dirty look. The Manning kids have a reputation for noisiness. And splash fights.
Just before she drove off, Scarlett said Mom would pick us up in an hour.
Gabriel winked at me. “Think they’ll ever trust me with the car again?”
“Nope,” I said.
“Oof, that hurts.” He pretended to clutch his chest and stagger, as if I’d wounded him.
“Sorry,” I said. “I just meant it will take a while—”