Ripple
Page 28
She swipes a finger under her glasses to wipe away her tears. “I could help you with funding if you need it.”
I shake my head. “I’m not asking you for money, Grandma. I just need your understanding.”
She nods slowly. “Okay.”
And I press my lips to her cheek.
Jack
As Tessa, Juliette, Sam, and I drive in my Dart to Woodside Manor Assisted Living, I think about how Officer Fogerty has become my biggest ally. I expect to see a pig fly by or get word that hell has, indeed, frozen over. After I confessed to blowing up the mailbox, Officer Fogerty arranged community service for all my offenses, the explosion, breaking and entering into Clement Valley, and hanging penises around Pineville. I don’t know how he worked that out with the feds, but Officer Fogerty said, “Don’t ask questions, Jack.” So I’m just grateful.
My community service is everything I’m already doing, tutoring math, volunteering at the Worton County Hospital, and entertaining the folks at Woodside Manor Assisted Living. The driving from my dad’s is a little rough, but I don’t mind doing it to see Tessa, my friends, and the Woodside crowd.
I squeeze Tessa’s hand. “Thanks for coming.”
She sits next to me, holding her camera. “I’m excited to meet your friends.” She leans in. “And I think it’s kind of hot when you play the violin.”
I smile. “If you think the 1949 version of ‘Blue Moon’ on the violin is hot, wait until you hear the 1927 rendition of ‘Puttin’ on the Ritz.’”
She fans herself. “Stop. You’re making me overheat.”
“You two are cute,” Juliette says, sitting in the backseat next to Sam. “Aren’t they?” she asks him.
“Adorable,” Sam says flatly. Juliette decided Sam needed to “discover his humanitarianism” and come along today to help the seniors get situated, serve them water, or whatever. She says it will be a great addition to his U of M app, and although I’m sure he’d rather be gaming or watching YouTube, I can tell he really digs Juliette. So he’s along for the ride.
“Oh, Jack,” Tessa says, giving me a sheepish look, “Juliette and I wanted to ask you a very important question.”
“No,” I say. “I haven’t had a penis enlargement. If and when we ever go that far, Tessa, you’ll realize it’s all mine.”
She laughs. So does Sam. Juliette rolls her eyes.
“Not the question I was going to ask. But good to know.” Tessa flashes me a huge smile, the real, genuine kind that makes her super-beautiful. “What’s the S stand for in Jack S. Dalton?” she asks.
“Fair question. My mom gave me my middle name.” My heart tightens with the thought of Mom. She was too drugged up to talk to me when I visited her last at the Worton County Hospital psych ward. Dr. Surrey said she was on a bunch of new meds she had to get used to, so she’d be a little out of it for a while. Once she adjusts to the new medications, she’ll go to a large group home that Nurse Grishelm found. I’ve already visited, and it actually doesn’t seem as bad as what I’d imagined. Again, I’m grateful.
“Let me guess,” Juliette says. “Jack ‘Smart-as-Hell’ Dalton.”
“That’s nice.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her. “But no.”
“Jack ‘Suave-and-Debonair’ Dalton?” Tessa says.
“Also on my list of faves. But guess again.”
“The suspense is killing us, dude,” Sam says. “Give us the answer.”
I give a sigh. “Sinclair.”
“Really?” “For real?” “No way.” They’re all ultra-surprised, like it should be much more exciting.
“Yep. Mom named me after Upton Sinclair. He wrote this book she loved called The Jungle about the horrors of the meat-packing industry at the turn of the last century and how the unions rose up and made it safe for workers. She said that anyone with the name Sinclair could change the world.”
Tessa looks at me, her sweet, heart-shaped face softening. “You’re helping me change mine.”
Goddammit. I can’t get enough of this girl.
Tessa
After parking at the senior center, Jack carries his violin under one arm and walks with me under the other. He wears a bright orange shirt, and weirdly, I love it. I think of how things have changed in such good ways in the past several weeks. Jack’s been looking into three different colleges and just has to choose where to go. With his mom settled and taken care of, he has options now. Jack Sinclair Dalton can go change the world.
As they follow behind us into Woodside Manor, Juliette laughs at something Sam whispers to her. Her happiness makes me smile. Now that I’ve got a therapist on my schedule, I’ve been letting Juliette know little by little some of the things I’ve done. She winces a lot and looks at me surprised, but she’s supportive. I don’t know what I’d do without her.
The second we enter Woodside’s main lobby, applause erupts. Twenty or so seniors stand or sit in wheelchairs, smiling.
“Ah,” Jack says. “If you were expecting the pizza delivery guy, he’s behind us. Sorry to disappoint you.”
A tall, handsome older man pushes past the rest, lays a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Haven’t seen you in a while, Jack. We’ve missed you.”
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Ben. I’ve moved in with my dad, who’s a little farther away, and I’ve got some other things that occupy my time.” Jack smiles at me.
Ben leans in, pretends he’s whispering, but I can hear every word. “She’s a looker, son. Keep her.”
“I intend to,” Jack nonwhispers back. Ben smiles.
Sam and Juliette sit on a couch in the back, and Jack guides me past the group of seniors as they settle into chairs and couches or wheel their wheelchairs into a row to get ready for Jack’s performance.
“Any requests?” he asks.
Ben walks up to a sweet-looking woman with long, curly hair. He doesn’t take his eyes off her. “Can you play ‘In My Life’ by the Beatles for me and my Maria?”
I almost answer for Jack since I know he loves the Beatles and could probably play anything by them. Jack nods, picks up his violin, and closes his eyes.
For the first minute, I watch, frozen, awed. By his handsome face, relaxed, like he’s meditating. Even when the older folks start making their way in front of the chairs and swaying to the music, I stay still and watch Jack’s long arm pulling and pushing the bow across the violin. His talent, his humor, his heart a part of every note.
Then I remember my camera, hold it up, envision each shot before I take it. The close-up of one couple’s hands clasped together. Ben landing a kiss on Maria’s cheek.
And then my camera’s view glides to Jack.
I snap one picture of him looking at me. I know that in all the times I’ve been held, all the times lips have touched me or hands have run up and down my skin, there was never the kind of connection like I see in this one gaze. And I know, with everything I need to work through, that Jack will be there.
Jack pulls the bow back for the last chorus.
He smiles.
I smile back.
And the song is mine.
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
Resources
If someone you love is dealing with alcohol abuse, help can be found at al-anon.org/for-alateen
For guidance with alcohol/drug abuse and mental disorders, contact samhsa.gov
And for help with understanding and dealing with sex, intimacy, and love, the following sites are invaluable:
• The young adult information hub for the American Sexual Health Association, iwannaknow.org
• Dubbed “sex ed for the real world,” a great forum and guidance center for people in their teens and twenties, scarleteen.com
• And a site written by teens for teens, sexetc.org
Acknowledgments
> Getting a book out into the world takes hordes of very hardworking people, and I have to thank the most integral parts of my horde. To my fabulous, wise, levelheaded agent, Heather Schroder—I am a very lucky writer to have you in my corner. During this process, there were times when you had more faith in me than I had in myself. Your reassurance and guidance are priceless.
To my editor, Stacey Barney, for taking Ripple on. All your questions and comments pushed me to dig deeper into the characters’ lives and the story, and I’m a better writer for it. I apologize for all my “staring” and “glaring,” and I can’t thank you enough for teaching me that I can love words but I don’t have to use every single one of them. And to assistant editor Kate Meltzer for getting back to me in 0.2 seconds whenever I had a question or request. You are awesome and possibly magical! The entire Penguin team has been phenomenal to work with. From copy editor Laurel Robinson’s attention to detail to Tony Sahara and the design department’s amazing artistic vision for Ripple’s cover to publicist Katharine McAnarney’s help getting the book out into the world, I am forever grateful for all your time and effort.
The ups and downs of being a writer require lots of pep talks, consoling, cheering, and TONS of coffee and chocolate. My personal cheer team includes my biggest writing confidante, Julie Angeli—you’ve been with me from the very beginning of this writing-for-kids-and-young-adults journey. Without you, I’d have less insight into this field, less courage, and much less chocolate. You are one of the greatest friends and writing partners I could ever ask for! And, Laurie Weeks, without your comment about the short story on which Ripple was based—“You should submit this to Hunger Mountain”—I would not be in this fortunate position. Thank you for your encouragement and all your comments on my work.
Massive amounts of appreciation must go to Hunger Mountain: The Vermont College of Fine Arts Journal for the Arts, along with 2011 judge Kimberly Willis Holt, for the immense honor of receiving first place for the Katherine Paterson Prize. The short story “Him” was the seed for Ripple, and your encouragement and love for the story was true motivation for developing it into a novel.
To all my friends and critique partners who read one or more versions of this book, helped me revise, and/or encouraged me to get the story out into the world—Melina, Lynn, Danielle, Mary Ruth, LoriGoe, Heather, Molly, April, Cheryl, Neal, Jacey, Makiko, Chris, Ian, Michelle, Courtney, Rae, and Colette—your hugs, nudging, and praise worked, so I owe you all giant coffees/teas/hot cocoas and even more chocolate. And to my fellow Sweet Sixteens, all your forum posts and tweets have been a lifeline. Can’t wait to read what beautiful work you all continue to offer the world!
Maria, my caregiver and earliest best friend, you showed me how books can be made with watercolors, markers, laughter, and love. I was a writer with you before I knew what a writer was.
To my husband, one of the smartest and funniest humans ever, without your wit and patience, Jack would never have been born. Thank you for giving me the time to follow my dream and for reading whatever I shoved in front of you. I love you fiercely. And to my boys for putting up with me shouting, “Quiet!” and “Close your doors!” from my study. Eventually, you’ll realize I wasn’t just being mean; I was actually working.
To my sister, Serenity Brain, my best friend and a true light in my life, thank you for helping me understand the scope and effects of schizophrenia. I’m so proud of how gifted you are with helping those suffering from mental illness. Your compassion and drive to do the work you do is astounding and commendable. The world is a better place because of you.
To my mom, for being the best mom and teacher ever. You’ve taught me compassion, drive, and how important literature, music, and art are in this world. Your love has made me as strong as I am.
To my dad. Thank you for always being there, no matter what stupid thing I did. For accepting me as your own and giving me your heart even though you didn’t have to. For working so hard to make sure I had what I needed. And for teaching me that a person is not defined by their mistakes but is measured by how they fix and learn to overcome them. I love you.
And finally, to all those dealing with addiction, either personally or by watching it ravage someone close—you are not alone. After being surrounded by addiction my entire life, I’ve met tons of wonderful, caring, knowledgeable people out there who can help. They are dedicated to recognizing and stopping the patterns of addiction, one ripple at a time.
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