by Brenda Woods
Our week in the mountains—I’d forgotten all about that. Knowing I was going to see her soon made me smile again. “Wow! That’ll be absolutely awesome.”
“Yes, absolutely awesome,” Bibi agreed as she pulled me to her, hugged me gently, and kissed my forehead. “I love you, Violet.”
I kissed her cheek and took a deep breath, trying to memorize her sweet smell. “Love you, too, Bibi. And as soon as I get home, I’ll call you.”
“You promise?” she asked.
“I promise.”
Before long, Daisy, Mom, and I were at the airport, thanking Harris, who had driven us there, and saying good-bye to Ahmed, who’d come along.
“Later, V,” he said.
I couldn’t believe it, but I actually felt a little sad. “Later, Ahmed.”
“So, cuzzin . . . you ever gonna get to come back to LA?” he asked.
“For a week at Christmas,” I replied. “Is that great?”
“Cooltastic!” he said, and we laughed and waved good-bye.
44
BACK TO MOON LAKE
After Poppy and Gam had picked us up from the Seattle airport, we’d all gone to have dinner. From the way they were treating me, you would have thought I’d been gone a whole year.
Being missed feels amazing.
As usual, the drive from Seattle to Moon Lake put me to sleep.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good to be home, in my own bed, cuddling Hazel. The past weeks had been like being in a washing machine, whirled around and tumbled. So much had transpired. I like the word transpired.
Gam cracked my bedroom door open. “You asleep?” she asked.
“Not,” I replied as I sat up in bed and turned on my lava lamp.
Gam sat in the chair by my bed, and it felt good to have her there. My gam.
“Seems to me you had quite an adventure, Violet Diamond,” she said with a smile.
I laughed. “Boy, did I.”
Gam patted my head. “But you’re okay?”
“Better than okay,” I told her.
“Not so many missing pieces, huh?”
I thought about the question for a while and replied, “Hardly any.”
“For that and for having you home, I am happy.” Gam kissed the top of my head. “Good night, V. I’ll see you in the morning. Love you.”
“Good night, Gam. Love you, too.”
Right then, for the first time ever, Gam felt like she was all mine.
Before I could turn off the light, Daisy peeked in. She was wearing a dress and tall platform shoes. “Where’re you going?” I asked.
“Out with Wyatt.”
Of course.
Her hair was pinned up in the back in a way that made her look older than seventeen.
“What do you call that hairstyle?” I asked.
“A French twist. You like, ma petite mademoiselle?”
“It makes you look older.” I climbed out of bed and touched the pearly thing that was stuck in her hair. “What’s this thing?”
“A French comb. I could do yours. It would look cute, V.”
“With my big ears? I don’t think so.”
“Your ears aren’t big, Violet. I’ve told you that a million times.”
“They’re bigger than yours and Mom’s.”
Daisy laughed. “Everyone’s ears are bigger than mine and Mom’s. Mine are so small, I’m surprised I can hear out of them.”
“Did you know big ears are prized in some cultures?” I informed her.
“No,” she replied.
“They are,” I said, and I fingered the lobe of my ear. I’d forgotten to take out my earrings, the emerald studs Bibi had given me. “I can’t believe she gave me real emeralds. If you ever want to wear them, you can, okay?”
Daisy smiled. “Thank you, li’l sis.” Daisy’s face turned serious and she stared into my eyes. “You seem happier. Are you?”
“Yep.”
“Cool. Very cool. Je t’aime, V.”
I’d heard that enough times to know that meant “I love you.” “Je t’aime,” I replied.
Daisy patted my head and left.
Nothing about us being different mattered right then, nothing.
We’re like any other sisters.
45
VIOLET THE DIAMOND
The next morning, Poppy was in the kitchen as usual. Bacon was frying on the stove. “Eggs and bacon coming right up,” he said.
“I was wishing for eggs and bacon just a few minutes ago,” I told him.
“Still wishing, huh?” Poppy asked.
“Wishes are okay, but they’re for stuff that’s not serious. For serious things, prayers are better.”
“You learned that in your travels, I presume?” Poppy asked as he whisked the eggs.
“And other things,” I told him.
“Like?”
I glanced over at his cookbooks. “Like how to make grits pie, and short ribs, and Bibi’s special-ingredient mashed potatoes. I can even teach you.”
“I’d like that,” Poppy said, and he broke out into a huge smile. “Nice to have you home, V.”
After breakfast, because I was a little tired, I lounged around the house in my pajamas. Mom and Daisy had gone to work and Poppy was practicing on his putting green. “Want to go to the golf course with me?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Maybe tomorrow.”
From upstairs, I heard Gam on the phone, working. Nothing has really changed, I thought, except me.
Lots of stuff was whirling around in my brain. Maybe, like Bibi said, I would be a writer someday. I pictured myself in a room filled with books, all written by me, Violet Diamond. And I’d travel all over the world and become a bohemian and have an exciting life. Thinking about that made me smile.
I headed to my room with Hazel, who refused to leave my side and mewed loudly every time I put her down. “Spoiled kitty,” I said.
After I plopped into bed, I stared at the ceiling, picturing the candles glowing on the birthday cake Bibi had bought me. I remembered placing sunflowers on my daddy’s grave, dancing the Mashed Potatoes, and listening to Nina Simone. I thought about the trip to Hollywood, the orchestra of wind chimes, sitting around the table enjoying the noisy Diamond Family Feast, Ahmed reaching out and saving me from falling into the water, and the twins, Lorna and Laura, talking like an echo. I hoped being with them was going to become a usually always thing. And though I was glad to be back in Moon Lake, I missed Bibi. I looked forward to seeing her soon and promised myself to call her tonight.
And as I nodded off into a nap, the sound of the doorbell and loud knocking startled me, and the next thing I knew, Athena was standing in my doorway. Early this morning, she’d called and said she’d be over around two because she had to go with her mom and grandma to Dio’s doctor’s appointment. I glanced at my clock. It was eleven thirty, still morning.
She held out her arms like a superstar. “I’m here,” she proclaimed. “His appointment got canceled until tomorrow.”
I bolted up out of bed and we hugged.
“Thank you for being back!” Athena said, and plopped down. “The summer was only getting worse and worse without you. My grandma’s still making me cook all day and Dio is still getting every ounce of attention from my parents. It’s like I disappeared. I’m still here, I kept telling them, but they didn’t hear me—or at least they pretended not to. I’ve gone from being the one and only family star to being nobody. Dio, Dio, Dio. That’s all I hear, morning, noon, and night.” Athena finally took a deep breath and asked two questions. “What was it like? Did you have a good time?”
Ponder, that’s a word I like, and it’s what I needed to do before I could answer her. I didn’t know where to start. There was so much to tell her.
Athena didn’t w
ait for an answer. “You look the same . . . Do you feel the same? I mean, now that you met your other family.”
“I still feel like me . . . only more,” I told her.
“More?” she asked.
“More me.” There was really no other way to explain it.
When I think about it, it’s an odd name, Violet Diamond—almost antonyms—a tiny, delicate flower versus the hardest mineral on Earth. Mostly I’ve been like a violet, small and shy, but lately I’d begun to feel like a diamond. It was as if the sparkly part of me was growing inside. I liked the way it felt and hoped it would stay there forever.
Finally, my name, Violet Diamond, was beginning to fit me.
“Are you glad to be home?”
“Yep, but my wanderlust is worse than ever now,” I replied.
“What’s that?”
“A desire to travel around and see every part of the world.”
“When we grow up, that’s exactly what we’ll do, promise?”
“Promise,” I said.
“Did you meet any famous people in Hollywood?” she asked.
“Not,” I replied.
“For real?” Athena frowned.
“Hey, want to go ice skating?” I asked her.
“Are you kidding? Anything is better than what I’ve been doing the past couple of weeks.”
I went to my door and yelled out, “Poppy! Can you take us to the rink?”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I offer great thanks to Nancy Paulsen for her editorial guidance, alliance, and insight. I also extend many thanks to Penguin Young Readers Group for their continued support of my writing. To my children and grandchildren, thank you for being the luminous pieces in my puzzle of life. As always, I thank the Great and Holy Spirit for gently guiding me along this Earthly path. Love and kindness are essential in these times.
ALSO BY
brenda woods
SAINT LOUIS ARMSTRONG BEACH
Chicago Public Library’s Best of the Best Reading List
ALAN (Assembly on Literature for Adolescents) Pick
“Gripping. . . . Woods’s marvelous characterizations of Saint and Miz Moran more than stand up to the vivid backdrop of the flooded, chaotic city. . . . A small gem that sparkles with hope, resilience and the Crescent City’s unique, jazz-infused spirit.”
—Kirkus Reviews, starred review
“With his engaging voice, readers will quickly take a shine to Saint. The dialogue is strong, smooth, and natural. The food, music, and tempo of New Orleans all come to life. . . . Woods skillfully provides a sense of the growing tension as the storm approaches. The real-life events of Hurricane Katrina . . . are integrated smoothly into the story. While the tragedy of the event is not glossed over, the overall theme is one of hope.”
—School Library Journal, starred review
“Provides a vivid description of what life was like in pre-Katrina New Orleans, and how quickly peoples’ lives were shattered. The characters are well-developed, and readers truly will care about their fates.”
—Library Media Connection, starred review
“Spare, moving novel. . . . Vividly portrays the force of the storm, and the authentic New Orleans setting works as a powerful character, adding an extra dimension to this compelling Katrina story.”
—The Horn Book
MY NAME IS SALLY LITTLE SONG
Book Sense Pick
Book Links Best Books for the Classroom
“True to the child’s voice, the terse, first-person narrative . . . brings close the backbreaking labor and cruelty of plantation life, then the flight to freedom, the sadness, and the hope. The action is fast, the journey fraught with danger; the details bring it home. . . . The searing historical fiction shows that there can be no sunny ending.”
—Booklist, starred review
“Offering a believable, horrifying portrayal of life as a captive. . . . Woods’s account of how the surviving three family members assimilate into the Seminole culture is involving and bittersweet.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Based on historical accounts, this novel provides readers with an alternative view of the realities of slavery. . . . Woods deftly teases out both the light and the dark moments of the experience. . . . This accessible tale will prove a rich resource for study and discussion.”
—School Library Journal
THE RED ROSE BOX
Coretta Scott King Honor
PEN Center USA Literary Award Finalist
FOCAL Award
Judy Lopez Memorial Award
IRA Notable Books for a Global Society List
“This is a work that beautifully and accurately evokes a particularly painful and hopeful time through an insider’s eyes, and yet it is also a timeless, universal tale of a young girl’s road to maturity. An impressive debut.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Well-realized, believable characters. Ruth is the embodiment of a sassy eight-year-old and the adults are genuine, loving, and supportive. . . . This story of grief and loss ends on a hopeful note and will appeal to readers.”
—School Library Journal
“Moving. . . . [Woods] creates some memorable characters . . . and probes historical events in a personal context that may open many readers’ eyes.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Language made musical with southern phrases . . . shapes the era and characters with both well-chosen particulars and universal emotions. . . . Young readers will connect with Leah and feel her difficult pull between freedom, comfort, and her deeply felt roots.”
—Booklist
brenda woods was born in Cincinnati, Ohio, raised in Southern California, and attended California State University, Northridge. She is the award-winning author of several books for young readers: Coretta Scott King Honor winner The Red Rose Box, Saint Louis Armstrong Beach (on eight state award lists), VOYA Top Shelf Fiction selection Emako Blue, My Name Is Sally Little Song (on four state award lists), and A Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame (Golden Sower Award finalist). Her numerous awards and honors include the Judy Lopez Memorial Award, FOCAL Award, Pen Center USA’s Literary Award finalist, IRA Children’s Choice Young Adult Fiction Award, and ALA Quick Pick. She is an avid reader, has two sons, and lives in the Los Angeles area.
Visit her at www.brendawoods.net.