Carry Me Home

by Janet Fox

  “Why did he tell us to break a leg?” she whispered to Jack. “Who wants that?”

  “It’s a theater thing. You’re not supposed to say good luck.”

  Lulu, looking down at her own legs in her jeans, thought that was the strangest thing she’d ever heard.

  A high school student sat at the piano on the stage to accompany the singers. When Deana stepped forward and told the student what she was singing, Lulu looked at Jack.

  “She’s in every play,” he whispered. “She always gets the lead role.” Then he added, more softly, “Until now.”

  Deana had a nice voice. Lulu was surprised. Impressed, even. Deana sang “Over the Rainbow,” and when she was done, her friends, sitting all the way in the back of the theater, clapped until Mr. Franzen shushed them.

  Then it was their turn.

  Jack told the pianist “Simple Gifts,” and Lulu swallowed hard. She was supposed to sing the first lines. The pianist started with the opening chords, and…

  Lulu botched the entry.

  Jack stepped up and said, “Sorry. Can we start over? My fault.”

  It wasn’t his fault at all. Lulu swallowed again, and Jack looked at her and smiled and nodded. The pianist began a second time, and this time Lulu hit the first notes, but so soft she could hardly even hear herself.

  Deana and her friends began to whisper-talk and laugh, and Mr. Franzen stood up. “Stop!” he commanded.

  Everything and everyone went silent.

  Mr. Franzen turned and faced the back rows. “If you girls can’t be quiet you may leave.” He turned back, and waved his hand. “Again, please.” He sounded impatient, and wasn’t looking at Lulu or Jack.

  For the third time, the pianist began the intro, and this time Jack took the mic and began to sing at the same time Lulu did. She turned to him and, understanding, leaned into the mic and harmonized with him. Then, when the moment came in the chorus, Jack paused for her, and then she paused for him, and then they sang together again.

  Some kind of magic happened, some kind of magic where it was only Lulu and Jack and the girl at the piano, and then—while he was singing—Jack made a little bow and extended his hand and twirled Lulu in a little dance—while she was singing. Lulu thought she was right inside that song, and she had never felt that much magic in her whole life. She repeated the chorus by herself and then sang the last two lines with her eyes closed, clutching the mic right to her mouth.

  To turn, turn will be our delight,

  Till by turning, turning, we come round right.

  The song ended, and Lulu heard her voice, her own voice, rich with emotion, we come round right, echoing into silence—even the piano was silent, breathless.

  Lulu opened her eyes; Jack was beaming.

  33 Way, Way Before

  LULU SANG the hymn in the back seat as her mama drove home through the twilight. Lulu loved that hymn. “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” Her mama joined in the chorus, in harmony, and Lulu never wanted this moment to end, singing with her mama, their voices in a perfect blend.

  Comin’ for to carry me home.

  Mama pulled over to the curb and turned to look over the seat. “C’mon up front.”

  Lulu sat up, not quite certain. “In the front seat?”

  Mama nodded. “You’re a big girl now,” she said. “Plus, we’re almost home.”

  Lulu moved into the front seat, fastening the seat belt as Mama watched, a smile on her face. “I’m going to tell you a secret,” she said.

  Lulu waited.

  “I’m leaving my job to stay at home for a while.”

  “But, I thought you liked your job. I mean, being a librarian is so cool.”

  “Oh, I do love it. But your daddy’s job is going well, and I’ve got a kind of surprise.” She sat back in the seat, still smiling, and patted her belly.

  “Mama, are you…,” Lulu began, breathless.

  Mama nodded, smiling huge. “You’re going to be a big sister to another little one. The way I see it, you’re already so good with Serena…”

  Lulu unbuckled the seat belt and moved across the seat, and threw her arms around her mama. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

  Mama laughed. “No idea yet, honey.” She paused, staring out the front. “You sing like an angel, Lu. I hope you keep singing always.”

  “I’ll sing to the baby,” Lulu said, and giggled, excited. “Just like I sang to Serena when she was a baby.”

  Mama laughed again, and then, her expression suddenly serious, said, “Seat belt.”

  Three months later, Lulu’s mama threw her hand to her chest and said, “Oh!”

  That “Oh!” was the worst sound Lulu had ever heard up to that moment. She didn’t know that much worse would come.

  Mama got sick and sicker from the cancer, and Lulu held tight to her hand, but Mama lost the baby anyhow, so there was no baby. Lulu sang to her mama, sitting by her bedside, trying to hold on, trying to make it all right through sheer force of will.

  And then there was no Mama.

  34 Before

  LULU WAS sure that Aunt Ruth didn’t mean to be mean. She was just tough, and old, and didn’t understand.

  Daddy had been gone for almost the whole month when it happened. Lulu heard the commotion at the door, and she’d already heard Aunt Ruth on the phone. Lulu could tell it wasn’t their daddy returning but something maybe not good, so she told Serena to stay upstairs with the door closed while she went to check.

  Standing just around the corner at the top of the stairs she heard Aunt Ruth talking loud about Lulu and Serena. When Lulu peeked through the bannister she saw a police officer and a woman in a suit with Aunt Ruth. There were words said among the three grown-ups that made Lulu cold all over. She knew enough kids in school who went through hard times. She knew exactly what they meant, those words.

  “Foster.”

  “Abandoned.”

  She heard them talking about when and how. About getting the paperwork started. About what would happen. They talked about meeting Lulu and Serena right then and there, but when Aunt Ruth called up the stairs, Lulu didn’t answer and the grown-ups decided to wait a day or two.

  When the police officer and the woman in the suit left, Lulu knew that she’d better do something. She had to stand up, right then.

  She confronted Aunt Ruth in her kitchen. Every part of Lulu’s body tingled like she was touching a live wire.

  “Mama will never forgive you,” she said, and her voice shook.

  Aunt Ruth’s eyes widened and then glinted.

  “Daddy will be back,” Lulu said. “And Mama will never forgive you.”

  “Your mama’s gone.” Aunt Ruth turned away, rubbing her eyes.

  “Don’t,” Lulu said, her voice hard.

  “Your daddy’s gone. And I don’t know what to do,” Aunt Ruth said.

  Lulu stood in Aunt Ruth’s kitchen, her feet braced wide apart, her back straight as a stick. For the first time ever, she was talking back to a grown-up. “I’m saying that you will not do that. You will not send us away,” Lulu said, her voice shaking. “Daddy will be back.”

  Daddy did come back two days later, and he drove the Suburban north the day after school finished for summer break, and Lulu had stood up for herself and Serena when he hadn’t been there.

  And she would stand up again and again, yes she would.

  35 Now

  “THEY’LL POST the parts on Tuesday,” Jack said. “Then rehearsals start Thursday.”

  Lulu and Jack walked out into the cold air, side by side. Lulu was still giddy. As they’d left the stage, the pianist had whispered, with a smile, “Beautiful.” Lulu hadn’t dared to look at the judges, especially Mr. Franzen. She didn’t notice whether Deana was still there or not.

  Lulu automatically started walking toward the elementary school to pick up Serena. She was floating toward her sister.

  Jack stopped walking. “Um, I have to go that way.” He pointed up the side street. “But, well, I can walk
you home, if you want. Or we can get together tomorrow. Maybe we can practice a little more. I can show you some of the songs and dance steps in Schoolhouse Rock. You’ll like it. Tomorrow?”

  “Oh!” Lulu was suddenly cold, her feet like blocks of ice, and she zipped up her puffy coat and tugged on her hat. It was getting dark. “No, that’s okay. And you don’t need to walk me home. I’m picking up my sister at after-school.”

  “So that’s what the note was about? You picking up your sister?” he said. “I can walk you there.”

  “Serena. I have to take her home.” Lulu paused. Home. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  Jack’s face fell. “Oh. Okay. Never mind, then. So, okay. Have a nice weekend.”

  He turned away and started walking fast, up the street.

  “Jack!” Lulu called.

  He stopped. He looked so crushed. Lulu wished… so many things.

  “That was really amazing,” she said, meaning it. “That audition.”

  Jack smiled, and then did a funny thing. He danced, just a few steps, then posed for a second, arms akimbo as if he was a famous actor or something. “Yeah,” he said. “It was.”

  36

  SATURDAY MORNING Lulu told Serena to sleep in. There was no question now that Serena had a cold.

  “I’ll get things done. You rest,” Lulu said.

  Serena nodded. She didn’t feel too hot to the touch. Not like she had a real serious fever or anything. It was just a cold. Serena just needed rest. That’s what Lulu kept saying to herself. Serena would be better off staying quiet in the Suburban than traipsing around outside with Lulu. She made sure to lock the car, and made sure to slip carefully past Mrs. Rogers’s trailer.

  Lulu went to the food bank first, as always. She stocked up on chicken noodle soup, the remedy her mama had believed would cure almost anything. She could stock up on more fresh food, too, since it was colder now and the car wouldn’t get so hot. And though they didn’t have Pop Tarts at the food bank, they did have cereal bars, which were almost as good.

  As she was checking out of the food bank, one of the workers stopped her. She’d seen him there lots of Saturdays. She had the feeling he knew what it was like to be hungry. He said, “Where’s your daddy, hon?”

  “He’s working extra,” she said, the now familiar lie.

  “You kids okay?” He seemed nice, this guy, but Lulu gripped the handles on the shopping cart hard. After what had happened at the oil field she was extra wary.

  “We’re good,” she said, and sped out of there, right back to the Suburban.

  There was the note waiting for her, under the windshield wiper, about next week’s rent due, twenty dollars. Monday. With a smiley face.

  Lulu sat in the front seat and counted the money again. When she finished the laundry, she’d have a little over ten dollars left. She could skip doing the laundry, but that still wouldn’t leave her with enough to pay the RV park. Plus, she wouldn’t skip the laundry because she didn’t want to give Deana any reason to wrinkle her nose.

  Lulu made sure that Serena was still okay by herself—she was still sleeping, and Lulu figured that was good for her—and she checked that the stack of colored paper Laurie had given her was in her backpack, and headed for the laundromat, carrying the laundry in a pillowcase.

  She stopped at the library on the way. Ms. M was at the children’s desk, stacking books on the rolling cart. “Lulu! It’s nice to see you. Have you given any thought to that library corner at the laundromat? What books we could put there?”

  “Picture books,” Lulu said. “There are always lots of little kids there with nothing to do.”

  “Great! We’re on the same page.” Ms. M smiled. “I was thinking of making it kind of like a little free library. You know, with books there on the honor system. Do you think that would work?”

  Lulu nodded. “ ’Cause even if they take them home, that’s okay, right? ’Cause maybe they don’t have any books at home.”

  Ms. M leaned over the desk, and said solemnly, “Exactly.” She reached behind her and lifted a stack of picture books onto the desk. “I set these aside last week. What do you think of my choices?”

  Lulu fingered the books, one after the other, nodding. Lots of books about lots of different kids. Kids who looked like Lulu and kids who didn’t. Books about kindness and books about sharing. Books about animals and books about plants. Lulu nodded again.

  Ms. M went on, “Okay, then. I’ll go there with you now. I’ve got something in my car that my husband made for me, just for this. I’ll bring you back here when you finish your laundry. Mrs. Everts will cover for me.” She paused. “Or I can drop you off at your house, if you want.”

  “No, that’s okay,” Lulu said fast. “I like to walk.”

  Being in someone else’s car felt weird, especially since it was also a Suburban. But the trunk of Ms. M’s car was full with something made out of wood instead of bedding, and Ms. M’s car was super clean and shiny. Lulu sat in the second seat clutching the pillowcase, the stack of picture books on the cushiony seat next to her, and her backpack at her feet.

  It took two minutes to get to the laundromat by car. Lulu helped Ms. M carry the wood pieces inside to the far empty corner of the big room and Ms. M started putting the pieces together with tools, like a giant wooden puzzle. The owner of the laundromat was there, smiling, lending a hand. The pieces turned out to be a set of shelves with a countertop and a painted sign saying PUBLIC LIBRARY! HELP YOURSELF TO A BOOK! NO NEED FOR A LIBRARY CARD! and instructions for how it would work. Ms. M had also brought beanbag chairs. Lulu stacked the books neatly on the shelves before she started her laundry.

  Ms. M moved around the laundromat, talking to the moms and kids, and pretty soon there were four or five little ones sprawled across the beanbags, reading books and pointing out the stuff in the pictures.

  It was neat that Ms. M’s husband made those shelves. Lulu’s daddy could have made something like that. The thought made Lulu’s heart zing painfully and she wondered again where, where, where he could be, leaving as he did, leaving her and Serena and his own tools and his job. She hadn’t had time at the library to search the Internet for him, like she’d planned, and she didn’t want Ms. M to know what she was doing. She just wanted him to come back, and now also because she wanted to stop worrying about feeling so helpless about not knowing where to begin to look.

  Was it just like the last time, when he’d come back with the Suburban? Was it like last time, when he’d left because he was broken and came back when he’d put himself together, like these shelves? Was he going to come back to Lulu and Serena this time with something even bigger than the Suburban, and with his heart fully mended?

  But why hadn’t he said anything before going? Why, in this strange town, had he up and disappeared without a word? Had he gotten lost? She’d heard about people who lost their memories after an accident. Is that what had happened to him? Or was it something worse that Lulu still couldn’t bear to imagine?

  Last time he’d left them with Aunt Ruth. This time he’d left them alone.

  Lulu’s fear and sadness, once again, turned sharply, abruptly, unexpectedly toward anger. Lulu was tired of worrying. Tired of taking care of herself and Serena all by herself. Sure, she’d stepped up. But she wanted to be like the little kids who were laughing in this sudden new library corner, rolling around on the beanbags, their moms gossiping over T-shirts and jeans and matching socks, looking like they’d landed in a tub of butter with their kids reading and having fun.

  Lulu was not having fun.

  Not at all.

  This was so unfair.

  Lulu jammed the two quarters into the dryer coin tray and shoved the tray into the slot, listening to the quarters clink into place and away. The machine was sucking up two of her last quarters. When Lulu turned around she saw that Ms. M was watching her, even while Ms. M was still sitting with the little ones, reading them book after book.

  Lulu sat across the room in the
opposite corner and began furiously folding paper cranes.

  37

  SERENA SLEPT much of the weekend. Lulu was able to give her some soup, and by Monday Lulu thought she was well enough to go back to school.

  “You should go to the school nurse only if you feel really bad,” Lulu said. “Because the school nurse will want to call Daddy, and then what?” Lulu chewed her lip. “We don’t want the school nurse to know that Daddy’s not here, do we? Or that we’ve been living in the Suburban alone, right?”

  Serena shuffled along, clutching Lulu’s hand.

  “I can’t leave you in the Suburban all alone all day,” Lulu said. “And if we don’t show up to school someone might ask questions.”

  “And then what?” Serena murmured. Lulu thought Serena might be thinking that if someone came asking questions, that would be a good thing. But Lulu knew otherwise.

  Yellow and orange leaves pinwheeled down around them, blowing into the gutter.

  “It’s just a cold, Reenie. You’ll be okay.”

  Lulu had taken the ten dollars to Mrs. Rogers on Sunday afternoon, and told her that “the rest was coming.” Mrs. Rogers squinted and asked again, “Where’s your daddy?” And Lulu had said again, “Working extra. Comes in late at night and leaves real early in the morning.” Mrs. Rogers had started in on not being a charity, and that she wasn’t at all sure about any of this since she hadn’t seen Lulu’s daddy in days, and the whole time Mrs. Rogers talked Lulu was backing away, off the trailer’s porch and up the dirt road. Mrs. Rogers was following and talking louder and louder and the only reason Lulu got away was that Mrs. Rogers was wearing hair curlers and must not have wanted everyone to see her like that, so she eventually gave up and went back to her trailer muttering.

  “It’s just a cold,” Lulu said again to her sister.

  Serena coughed, as if to make a point.

  “I’ll see you in after-school, okay?” Lulu stood at the door of the elementary and watched her sister plod away heavy-footed. Serena’s hair hung down her back and over her Hello Kitty pack in messy strings.