Worth a Thousand Words
Page 17
Her dad looked down, up, side to side, until he finally managed to point his head toward hers. He didn’t look directly at her, but it was good enough. He stared at her forehead, maybe her cheeks, or her mouth, as that mouth spoke words she should have said long ago, if only she’d known they were the right ones.
“Dad,” she continued slowly, feeling out the word as if she’d never really said it before. “I forgive you.” She moved herself toward the edge of the bed and stood up next to him, facing him.
Tillie’s dad surprised her by laughing abruptly. A short, high-pitched laugh.
“What’s going on, Til?” he said.
Tillie fought the urge to pretend this wasn’t happening, like Jake pretended things didn’t happen. She couldn’t do that. She didn’t let her gaze go. Her gaze, unobstructed by the glass of a lens, frightened her, but it was still her most trusted skill and her best bet.
“I forgive you for the accident,” she said. “Okay? I’m not mad. And I’m okay, Dad. I’m really okay. And,” she took a breath, and repeated, “I forgive you.” She exhaled. “I always have.”
Tillie’s leg started to hurt. She hadn’t stretched yet, and she found herself leaning against the bed as she spoke to him.
She bit her lip.
Her dad stood there, his hands still at his sides. Silent.
“Ya know,” she said offhandedly, like how Jake did when he was trying to lighten the mood, “everybody makes mistakes.” She softened her voice completely. “Right, Dad?” Tillie ventured, moving her head forward with a tilt, a little more toward him.
He remained quiet, staring down.
If she waited long enough, maybe he’d say something.
But he didn’t.
Tillie’s dad pressed his lips together tightly, as if maybe he was mad. Then he looked up at the ceiling, like someone does in a prayer, though she’d never seen her dad pray before. He rubbed his forehead and ran a hand through his hair.
Finally, with no words, he looked into her eyes.
“Thanks.”
He let out a breath, as if he’d been holding it for four years, and his eyes smiled.
“And now I have to sit back on the bed,” Tillie said. “I should stretch.”
In a flash, her dad took her elbow like her mom used to when Tillie was recovering from the accident, and he helped her sit down. She needed absolutely zero help, but she let him do it. They both sat on her bed and leaned against the wall together, legs out.
Down the hall, in the kitchen, they heard her mom.
“Pancakes,” Tillie said, right as her dad said it, too.
Tillie thought she heard him sniffle. But maybe it was nothing.
Tillie’s dad pulled her close.
Slowly, carefully, Tillie laid her head on her dad’s shoulder. Through his shoulder and the crease of his neck she could hear his heart beating. She felt his muscles stiffen, and then relax.
“Tillie,” her dad said. She could hear the vibrations of her name through his skin.
“Yeah?” she said. She could hardly breathe. She felt the muscles in her palm start to twitch, and she hoped he didn’t feel it, because then maybe he’d think she was uncomfortable, but really she felt like she was taking a warm shower after a chilly winter day.
“How about we go to the store?”
“Um,” Tillie said, a question in her voice. “Okay…”
“To pick you up a new camera.”
Tillie lifted her hand from his knee and put it to her chest.
“What?” she said, her head perking up and turning to him.
“How about we get you a new camera? Pick one out?”
It was like he had spoken gibberish.
“I don’t know anything about this stuff,” he said, his head bobbing slightly. “Is it not called a ‘store’ where you buy cameras? Is it a special kind of name? Like a ‘camera shop’? Is there some lingo?” He was almost babbling now. “Anyway, I don’t know what’s good, so I can’t really say, but I’m sure you know, right? You know all the good cameras.” He rubbed his hair, shaking it so that it looked even messier. Tillie thought of Jake with his dandruff. “And let’s not skimp on this.” He seemed to be talking to himself. “I think we need one that makes up for all two or three—or whatever it was—of the broken cameras. So you can take pictures that are, you know, as good as possible. As good as you are.”
Tillie stared at him.
“I mean, your photos are simply amazing, Tillie.” He took a breath. His voice slowed down. “I’ve noticed.” He breathed out, and she felt the heat of his breath on her shoulder. “I’ve always noticed,” he added with deliberation, articulating every syllable as he made another commendable attempt at prolonged eye contact. “I just…” And whatever else he had to say to her was still too hard. He exhaled. He lifted his hands and dropped them against his knees, as if giving up.
At her speechlessness, his forehead creased like he was a kid who was worried people didn’t like him, and he added, “We don’t need to get one right away or anything.”
Tillie’s cheeks bumped up against the bottom rims of her glasses because she was smiling so widely.
“No, yes, now!” she said. “Let’s go get Mom to take us! Now!” Tillie started to push herself up from his shoulders, and he stood to help her.
“Oh, no, no, it’s okay,” her dad said. “I’ll drive you.”
Tillie pretended she hardly heard this. But, for a second, she swore she could tap-dance all the way to New York City if she wanted to.
“Oh, okay,” was what she said aloud, as casually as possible.
“I’ll tell your mom.”
Her dad went down the hall to the kitchen and adult voices spoke.
Alone, Tillie picked up her phone. Her mom had never taken it back from her, though Tillie knew it wasn’t because she had forgotten. Her mom had forgiven her, too.
She texted Jake.
Dad’s taking me to get a new camera…!!!
A few seconds later, as she tied her shoelaces, her screen read:
good morning to you too … u r the best lost and found ever. glad to have you back
Tillie smiled and tucked her phone in her pocket, on vibrate, in case Jake or Abby texted her to meet up later. She couldn’t imagine she was still grounded.
When she got to the front door, the car keys were in her dad’s hand. He had thrown on a light jacket.
Her mom stood leaning in the doorway in her robe. “You’re missing out on pancakes.”
“Sorry, Mom.”
“Bye, you two. Have fun!” her mom said, way too cheerily.
Tillie and her dad stood at the door for a moment before her dad turned the doorknob, and they left.
* * *
As they walked toward the car, Tillie didn’t know exactly what she’d found, but she knew she’d found something. And with that wonderfully vague certainty, feeling the sweet, warming air graze across her face through the open car window, her dad putting in the key and turning on the radio, Tillie said goodbye to her old eyes. She let them close. She knew that this search was over, that when she opened her eyes again she would have a brand-new lens with which to see the world. With her eyes closed, Tillie thought of all she’d already found, and all that was left to find.
“You ready?” her dad said.
“Absolutely,” Tillie replied, her eyes opening to see him smile at her.
And he put the car in drive.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to the team at Roaring Brook Press for the incredible support. Thank you to my gifted editor, Connie Hsu, for sharing your brilliance with me, to Noa Wheeler for your sensitive insights, to Megan Abbate for those great pep talks, and to Kylie Byrd and Jennifer Sale for your impeccable attention to detail.
Thank you to my extraordinary agent, Melissa Edwards, for fighting so hard for this book. You are a gem.
Thank you to Boyoun Kim for gracing the cover with such lovely art, and to Christina Dacanay for designing a beau
tiful book.
Thank you to Sara Polsky for helping me dive deeper into Tillie’s world.
Eternal thanks to Pamela Laskin for guiding me through the early stages of the manuscript.
Thank you to Jenna Werner, Nick Shoda, Rachel Mylan, Gabriel Frye-Behar, Arin Sang-urai, and Kelly Granito for your time and expertise.
Thank you to the only real mermaid I’ve ever met, Tillie Spencer, for sparking this story in my imagination.
Thank you to Lexi Lessaris for all the precious writing hours, and for the gift of your warmth.
Endless gratitude to my high school creative writing teacher, Community High School’s Tracy Anderson. You helped me discover my love of writing and consistently demonstrated a belief in the importance of each student’s voice, including mine. You are everything a teacher should be.
Thank you to Jacob M. Appel, who convinced me to pursue writing and showed me that living a writer’s life is worth it. Your talent and perseverance inspire me.
To my big, beautiful family, near and far, whose love grounds me.
Thank you to Lizzie and Robert Gottlieb for all the advice.
Thank you to my late grandma, Alice Brady, who taught me how to tell a good story.
Thank you to my dad, Ernest P. Young, for the countless hours you’ve spent poring over this and every other manuscript.
Thank you to my mom, M. Brady Mikusko, for supporting me wholeheartedly in any career path I wanted, from early dreams of becoming a botanist/orca specialist/actress to this realized one of writing books, embodying the philosophy of raising a child to follow her heart.
Thank you to my other mom and dad, Margery and David Ross, for the constant encouragement. You are the fan club every person needs!
Thank you to my nephews, Oliver Young and Jacob Young, for allowing me to pick your brains endlessly about what it is to be twelve years old in the world today. You guys are the future we need.
Thank you to my niece, Claudia Maschio, whose exuberance nourishes me.
Thank you to my darling Simone. You are joy.
And, of course, thank you to Jonathan Ross, my love. Let’s never stop swapping drafts and ideas and jokes. Especially the jokes.
About the Author
Brigit Young lives in NYC, along with her lovely husband, Jonathan, a master of funny voices, and hilarious daughter, Simone, a master of colors and the ABCs. Worth a Thousand Words is her first book. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraphs
1. The Lost and Found
2. Missing
3. Happy Faces
4. A Boy on the Phone
5. Hiding Something
6. The Blue Chevy
7. Blind Artist
8. Into the Night
9. Old Man at the Window
10. Bitten-Down Nails
11. Loner
12. Don’t Ask Questions
13. That Face
14. This New You
15. Things Aren’t That Simple
16. Unavoidable
17. Stalker
18. Break
19. Drawing with Light
20. Into the World
21. The Truth
22. Found
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2018 by Brigit Young
Published by Roaring Brook Press
Roaring Brook Press is a division of Holtzbrinck Publishing Holdings Limited Partnership
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010
mackids.com
All rights reserved
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017957304
Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945 ext. 5442 or by e-mail at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
eISBN 9781626729216
First hardcover edition, 2018
eBook edition, August 2018