He felt something inside, something different from the hot, fiery feeling he usually had. A tugging feeling. A pulling-toward feeling.
Henry needed to do something. Not fight. Not run. Not sing. Nobody wanted to hear him sing. But he wanted to be a part of it. He scooped Osprey up onto his shoulders and marched with her.
Enzo picked up something white from the laundry basket on the floor next to the back door. He unfolded a pair of underwear.
“This tighty-whitey of mine, I’m gonna let it shine—” He grabbed another pair and tossed it to Skeet, who picked up the underwear and the new song.
“This tighty-whitey of mine-y,” he sang, “I’m gonna put it on my hiney—” Enzo tossed four more pairs to Tavius, Pierre, Ben, and Jake.
“This tighty-whitey of mine-y,
I’m gonna put it on my hiney,
It looks so fine-y
Me-oh-mine-y
My butt’s so tiny.”
Henry laughed so hard he almost dropped Osprey.
“Put me down!” she was laughing too. Henry lifted her off his shoulders, and she marched over to Zavion and wiggled her way into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her. Henry felt that tugging feeling again. He wanted to do something for Zavion.
He saw Mount Mansfield from Zavion’s eyes. From someone who had never seen it before. The way the trees changed from birch to fir to tundra. The view of the valley from the very top. Henry wanted to take him there. He pulled Jake aside.
“I want to take Zavion up Mansfield.”
Jake played monkey in the middle with a pair of underwear. Jake caught them and threw them to Tavius. “You do?” he said.
Henry did. He needed to find his marble first. But yes, he wanted to take Zavion up Mount Mansfield just a little bit more than he was afraid to be back there.
chapter 53
ZAVION
The party moved into the living room. Zavion could hear them playing a trivia game.
“What colors can butterflies see that humans cannot see?” Zavion heard Enzo ask.
“Colors on the ultraviolet spectrum,” said Henry.
“In what key do flies hum?”
“F.”
“Which insect can indicate the temperature?”
“Crickets. They have different chirps for warm and cold.” Henry was on a roll.
It sounded like they were having fun, but Zavion stayed in the kitchen to clean up. He dried the inside of a ceramic mug with a dish towel. He stood in the middle of the room, took a deep breath, and then, very quietly, began to sing.
“This little light of mine—” His voice cracked. He wasn’t a very good singer.
“—I’m gonna let it shine,
Let it shine,
Let it shine,
Let it shine—”
chapter 54
HENRY
After the trivia game, which Henry won hands down, everyone drifted off to sleep. But Henry couldn’t. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t because he was in a new house. It wasn’t because he was without Brae, although he missed him something fierce. And it wasn’t because of the new breathing all around him, a chorus of inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale. That was music to his ears.
So was the lone voice he had heard earlier, coming from the kitchen.
—
Henry hummed the song now. If Zavion could be brave and sing, maybe he could too. He opened his mouth. Took a deep breath. As he held it, he listened again to the in and out, up and down, steady and powerful life all around him. He closed his mouth again. He didn’t want to ruin all that beautiful music.
—
He climbed up the ladder leaning against the house and pulled himself onto the low roof. The sky was clear and the moon was bright. He could see the whole block from where he sat, identical ranch houses with fenced-in backyards.
“What are you doing up there?”
Henry looked down to see Osprey staring at him, her eyes shining in the dark night.
“Just wanted to climb, I guess.”
“Can I climb too?” Osprey put her bare foot on the bottom rung of the ladder.
“Shoot. Hold on.” Henry inched his way to the edge of the roof and jumped down. “Okay, you go first and I’ll follow you.” Osprey’s legs moved slowly up the ladder. When she got to the top rung, Henry squeezed around her onto the roof and then grabbed her hands and guided her up. She had the leash wrapped around her wrist.
“You’re making me nervous,” said Henry. “Sit down, okay?”
“Why’d you come up here?” said Osprey. She squatted next to Henry.
“I dunno. I couldn’t go to sleep.”
“Me too.”
Henry lay back so his head was resting on the roof. Osprey lay down too. A cloud passed in front of the moon, darkening the sky for an instant, like a big eye blinking shut, and Osprey almost disappeared. Then the eye opened again and Osprey came back into view.
“I feel big up here,” said Osprey. She wiggled her head up onto Henry’s chest, right under his chin. Her hair was spongy and soft. “This is so much better than being inside. Don’t you think so, Henry?”
“Yup.”
Osprey pointed her finger into the sky and then jammed it into Henry’s rib. “Are you going home soon?”
“Owww—yeah, I guess.” Henry rubbed his side and Osprey grabbed his hand. He couldn’t believe it, but he was going to miss this kid. “I’ll send you a picture of Brae,” he said.
“Who’s Brae? An animal?”
“Yup.”
“A pig?”
“Nope.”
“A sheep?”
“Nope.”
“A cow?”
“Yup.”
“A cow?!”
“Yup. Part cow.”
“Part cow?!”
“Yup. And part dog.”
“A cow-dog?” said Osprey, her eyes getting wide.
“Yup.”
“I never heard of a cow-dog.”
“Oh, they’re very rare. You only find them in Vermont.”
Osprey clapped her hands. She unwrapped the leash from around her wrist. “You can put this on Brae, okay? It should go on a real dog. A real cow-dog.”
Henry took the leash. It was warm from being in Osprey’s hand. “Thank you, Falcon,” he said.
Falcon.
The PBS special!
Peregrine falcon!
And the red-breasted goose!
“You want to hear something?” said Henry.
“Yes,” said Osprey.
“In the Siberian tundra, the arctic fox is always hungry. They want to eat the red-breasted geese that live there.”
“Poor geese,” said Osprey.
“Yup. But the peregrine falcons take care of the geese. The falcons know how to fight the fox.”
“I like the falcons!”
“Me too. You want to hear something else?”
“Yes.”
“The geese take care of the falcons too. I just remembered that. The geese make a great loud alarm call that warns the falcons when the fox is approaching.”
“Oh! I like the geese!”
“Me too,” said Henry. “I like the way they work together. It’s kind of like…magic.”
“Like a magic!” said Osprey.
A magic.
Henry liked that.
“Zavion has a magic,” said Osprey.
“He does? What is it?”
“It’s a secret.”
A secret.
Henry knew about secrets.
But a secret that was a magic?
“Maybe my leash is a magic, Henry,” said Osprey.
“I bet it is,” said Henry. He gripped the leash. “I’ll take a picture of Brae wearing this and send it to you.”
And then he had a flash of an idea. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tiny wooden car from the Salvation Army. He had almost forgotten he had it. “This is from Vermont,” he said. “It’s for you.”
And he knew,
with certainty, that it was.
“And maybe this is a magic too!” squealed Osprey.
She took the little car and then leaned back again on Henry’s chest. She ran the car up and down his arm. “This is where you live,” she said, placing the car on Henry’s wrist. “And this is where I live,” she said, driving it along his arm to his shoulder.
“Not too far,” he said.
“Nope.”
Henry stared into the sky and the moon stared back at him, watched him as he looked down at Osprey, who closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him. As he rested his chin on Osprey’s head, he felt that tugging feeling again. He imagined that the peregrine falcon and the red-breasted goose felt it tug between them too. It was a funny feeling. Funny, but good. A rooted kind of feeling, pulling him to the ground, even though he was up in the sky.
chapter 55
ZAVION
Up on a ladder, Papa was painting one of the living room walls. Zavion needed to tell Papa that they should go to Vermont with Henry and Jake. He ran his hand down Tiger’s wing feathers, felt the muscles under them, felt how strong his wings were and imagined just how high he could fly. He tried to soak in some of Tiger’s strength through his fingertips.
“What are you going to paint?” said Zavion.
“This is it,” said Papa.
“No jazz band?”
“Nope.”
“No fishing boat?”
“Nope. Just this green and then wait for it to dry and then another coat of green. Like a professional painter, right?” Papa looked happy. He was comfortable, way up there, balanced on a rung. He was comfortable anywhere if he had a paintbrush in his hand. “I spoke with your uncle Gabe yesterday. He says he has room for us.”
“No!” said Zavion. Tiger squawked and flapped his wings. The no had more force than Zavion expected such a tiny word to have.
“Room for us for what?” he said quietly.
“To live with him.”
“To live with him? I don’t even want to visit him! Papa—” he said, trying to calm his voice as he scrambled inside his head for something to say. “It looks like you’re painting another mountain on a wall.”
“It’s a green wall.”
“Well, mountains are green.”
“Enough with the broken-record mountain song over and over again, okay?”
Zavion watched Papa paint some more. He tried not to speak. He tried to keep the words from rising up like a wave and crashing over the levee. But sometimes waves have a pull and a push and a force that one single person can’t hope to control.
“But it’s true,” Zavion blurted out. “They are green. Especially Vermont mountains.”
“I’ve never seen a Vermont mountain, Zav. So I don’t know if this looks like one or not.”
“I doubt they’re that awful minty color,” piped up Ms. Cyn. She and Skeet came in from the kitchen.
“Morning,” said Papa.
“I brought you some breakfast,” she said, putting down a tray. “And I’ll have you know that I made a personal visit to the kitchen to get it.”
“Be impressed,” said Skeet.
“I am,” said Papa.
“I am too,” said Skeet. “With both Ms. Cyn and you. Your painting job is excellent. Thanks for agreeing to repaint this room for me….” His voice trailed off. “You know what? I bet I could find you more painting work—for pay. Would you want that?”
Skeet was distracting Papa. Zavion had to keep him focused.
“Work is good,” agreed Papa.
“I wonder…,” Skeet mumbled. “I have an idea….” And then he was gone.
“You’ve seen a North Carolina mountain, right, Papa?” Zavion jumped in. “Isn’t this the same color as Mama’s mountain?” The paintbrush in Papa’s hand shook the tiniest bit. “After Mama traveled to New Orleans and found you, didn’t she take you back to North Carolina? To Grandmother Mountain? Didn’t you get to see Mama’s mountain?”
“Quiet, Zavion!”
The door slammed just as Papa yelled.
“Quiet!” squawked Tiger, directly into Zavion’s ear.
Osprey ran through the room. Henry sauntered in behind her.
“Watch out for the wet paint,” said Ms. Cyn.
“I told Gabe we would go to Kansas right away,” said Papa, his voice quiet again. “There’s no reason not to.”
“You should come to Vermont first,” said Henry. “That’s a reason right there.”
chapter 56
HENRY
Henry still wanted to take Zavion and Ben to Vermont. He wanted to take Zavion up Mount Mansfield. He had told Mom when she called.
“Why?” Mom had asked.
Henry was silent. He didn’t know how to answer her. He was surprised by his desire, actually. He had wondered if it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, an idea he would feel was the worst one he had baked up in his whole entire life, after he had slept on it. But that hadn’t happened. He didn’t understand why, but he felt even more sure about it than before.
“Well, I can’t wait to see you—” Mom interrupted his thoughts. “And I would love to meet your new friend.” She didn’t ask again why he wanted to bring Zavion, which, weirdly, made Henry miss her. “Brae’s not the only one who misses you,” she said, as if she could read his mind.
“It’s only been two days.”
If he said he missed her too, he might cry.
“Well, I still can’t wait to see you,” said Mom. “With or without Zavion.”
With Zavion.
Henry was determined.
At this moment, although he couldn’t explain it or understand it and—Jeezum Crow, he would never say it to anyone else—he might tell Cora that taking Zavion to Vermont was his heart’s desire.
chapter 57
ZAVION
“We don’t know anyone in Vermont,” said Papa.
“Of course you do,” said Ms. Cyn. She tugged her scarf, which was about two miles long now, and gathered it into her lap as she sat down. “Who do you think you’re looking at?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t exactly know.”
“Him?” said Osprey. “He’s Henry.” She clicked to Tiger, who jumped onto her arm.
“No offense, Henry, but I’ve only just met you,” said Papa.
“Henry,” said Osprey, “I wish I still had that leash I gave you. I want to take Tiger for a walk.”
“Tiger doesn’t need a leash,” said Henry. “I think he’d stay with you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I was thinking of taking a walk too,” he said. “I need—I want to see Pierre’s Salvation Army.”
“Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em,” Tiger squawked.
Henry laughed, and Papa’s face sharpened into anger. He began painting again, and Zavion noticed his hand shook harder as he dipped the brush in the paint.
“That bird speaks the truth,” said Ms. Cyn.
The door opened again and Jake walked inside. “Morning, everyone,” he said. He stayed rooted just inside the door.
“Half the day is gone, lazy bones,” said Tiger.
“You talk too much,” said Jake, but he was smiling.
“Lazy bones! Lazy bones! Look what I’ve done today already—”
Zavion watched Papa. His face was still sharp. “Please, Papa—”
“Gabe is family,” said Papa, but he wouldn’t even look at Zavion when he spoke.
Gabe was family, but Zavion barely knew him. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here?
Jake and Henry were here.
Zavion walked up a few rungs of the ladder and grabbed at Papa’s ankles. “Please,” he said again.
Jake cleared his throat. “I’m—uh—guessing this has something to do with a visit to Vermont?” He looked at Henry.
“Yup,” said Henry.
“Henry talked with me about it. I’m happy to bring you and Zavion with us.”
“Thank you, but no.” Papa’s voice was firm.
“You’re welcome to come stay with Annie and me, Ben,” said Jake.
“I’m not your damn charity case!” Papa slammed the paintbrush into the can of paint.
“I know you’re not.” Jake spoke quietly.
“No! No, you don’t seem to know it at all! What do you think? That you can come down here with a few shirts and a few cans of soup and save us? Well, you can’t! It’s too little! It’s too little and it’s too late! Where were you before the damn levees broke? Where were you when they were cracked and needed to be fixed? A thousand cans of soup aren’t going to build a wall high enough to keep that water out—”
Papa spun around and kicked the can of paint with his foot. It tipped and spilled. Green paint poured down on Zavion.
Zavion sputtered and gagged—
A flash—
Thick, cold—
“Oh, Zav—” Papa rushed down the ladder.
Oily, wet—
He closed his mouth. The paint tasted bitter.
Papa put his hands on his shoulders and guided him down the last few steps.
“Come on over here,” said Ms. Cyn. She handed Papa something, and he wiped Zavion’s face.
“Tighty-whities!” squealed Osprey.
“Papa—” said Zavion. The paint burned his eyes. “It isn’t Jake’s fault.”
Paint dripped from the platform of the ladder to the ground. Drip, drip, drip, like rain.
“It isn’t—” Papa’s voice was quiet. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “But it’s complicated.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em!” chimed in Tiger.
“Shhhhh—” whispered Henry. He sat on the floor with Osprey and Tiger on his lap.
Papa hugged Zavion to his chest.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said.
“I do,” said Zavion through the paint that was still in his mouth. “We need to go to a mountain. I thought we needed to go to Mama’s mountain, but now I think we need to go to theirs.” He looked at Henry and Jake. “That’s why I met them. That’s why I went to New Orleans. That’s why I found this—”
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