Carry Me Home

by Janet Fox

  The whole entire weekend Lulu had made paper cranes. She made paper cranes until she ran out of paper. Then she counted them up and found that she’d made one hundred and forty-seven. They were piled on the dash of the Suburban all the way up the window to the top, and then some.

  It was a lot of paper cranes but it wasn’t even close to one thousand.

  And what about her wish, the one for which she was making all those paper cranes?

  She wished that Daddy would come back. That was her first and most pressing wish.

  But now she also wished that Serena would be okay. And she wished that she had money for boots for both of them. And money for laundry and the car and other things. And even money to buy chocolate chip cookies, which they didn’t have at the food pantry, where the food was good but not great.

  Then there was the biggest wish of all, the dream wish. The one about not living in the Suburban any longer. About having a house to live in again, like they’d had once upon a time.

  She also wished, since very recently, that she would get a part in the school play, because that was the one place in Lulu’s life right now where all the rest of this wishing-ness disappeared.

  Oh, how Lulu wished. A house. A home, with Daddy there. With Serena fine. With money. And a way for Lulu to sing to her heart’s content.

  Happiness. A real life. Hope.

  Lulu figured that a thousand paper cranes wouldn’t even come close to making all that come true. She’d need ten thousand.

  Maybe a million.

  A million paper cranes.

  For all her million wishes.

  38

  MISS BAKER briefly explained the writing partnerships and then had each member of the pair sit next to the other. Because of space and the fact that they had to talk, some pairs stayed in the classroom, and some were sent to the library.

  Deana and Lulu were sent to the library.

  They sat at a library table opposite one another. Deana had been unusually quiet already this morning, and she still wasn’t saying anything. They sat for a few minutes, and then Deana, looking down at the table and shuffling her book and pencil, said, “You’re really good.”

  Lulu said, “Um…”

  “Singing. You’re a really good singer.”

  “Oh! Thanks! You are, too! I mean, really.”

  Deana tap-tap-tapped her pencil on the desk, fast then faster. “Anyhoo.”

  “Any what?”

  “Anyhoo. Like, you know, anyways.”

  “Oh.” Lulu had never heard of “anyhoo.” She thought it must be a Montana thing. “We’re supposed to write, I guess.”

  “So I have an idea, because we’re supposed to write something like a short story first, right?”

  Lulu nodded.

  “So what about if these kids go to the moon?”

  Lulu raised her eyebrows and then opened her notebook. “Okay…”

  And before Lulu knew what was happening, Deana was spouting this elaborate science fiction story about kids on the moon, and Lulu was trying to write down as much as she could, and the two of them were talking, actually talking, and suddenly out of nowhere they were laughing—actually laughing—and then before she knew it, the bell rang. They were still talking excitedly about the idea and the story until they were halfway back to the classroom and then Deana suddenly went back to being quiet.

  “So…,” Lulu said.

  “So, great. Maybe you could write it up. Because I’m not a great writer, I’ll admit. Like, my grammar stinks.”

  “Sure,” said Lulu. “Okay.”

  Deana squared her shoulders and marched into the classroom without looking at Lulu, as if the past hour had never happened.

  Lulu stood on the threshold of the classroom for a minute before she made her way to her desk and to the rest of the school day, confused. No, bewildered. What had happened with Deana?

  At lunch she was still bewildered, but Jack was all but bouncing with excitement.

  “I think we’ve got a real shot.”

  “At?” she said.

  “At being the leads. You were awesome.” He took a huge bite of his sandwich and then said, “How was your weekend?” Though because his mouth was so stuffed with sandwich it sort of came out, “Ow us or eekend?”

  “Um, okay,” Lulu said, not meeting his eyes. Then, wanting to say something, said, “I’m helping the public librarian set up a little free library in the laundromat.”

  Jack bounced higher. “Ms. Maurene? She’s my next-door neighbor. She’s great.”

  A tickle of worry crept into Lulu. “Really?” she said. But so close, too close, Jack and Ms. M living right next door to each other. What if they talked about Lulu? Figured out what was happening to Lulu? Figured out that her daddy had gone missing? Could Lulu trust any adult, even Ms. M? No. No, she could not. And she couldn’t bear it if Jack found out. “Well, I don’t really know her well or anything like that.”

  “Maybe I could help with the library. In the laundromat, you said? Don’t know where that is but I might be able to help.”

  Lulu stiffened, then stood up. “Got to go to science.” Then, seeing Jack’s expression, added, “Tomorrow we’ll know, right?”

  “Right! Tomorrow afternoon! But I’m betting already.”

  She smiled, lips tight.

  39

  LULU HADN’t been able to make any paper cranes for the whole afternoon and night, though she got a lot more paper when Laurie wasn’t looking. Between trying to quietly take care of Serena without making a fuss or raising suspicions—Serena, who was really coughing in after-school, and still not talking much to Lulu or anyone else—and then starting the science fiction story that she and Deana had to work on, and then doing her other homework, and then taking a shower and helping Serena take a shower even though Serena complained the whole time, and then making dinner for the two of them (in the dark because now it was completely dark by the time they finished their showers), Lulu was done in.

  Once again she lay in their makeshift bed in the Suburban, under all their blankets plus Daddy’s, after Serena fell asleep and was snoring to beat the band. Lulu stared up at the inside roof. The roof of their teeny-tiny cold home.

  Only one hundred forty-seven paper cranes. That left… eight hundred fifty-three to go. Or more, with all these wishes.

  Lulu pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. How much longer? How much more?

  Where was he?

  She tried to think about the school play and singing. She dug out her earphones and her old iPod—the one she had held on to through thick and thin—and discovered that the iPod was dead. She had no way to charge it without turning on the Suburban.

  So she just began to hum, as soft as she could.

  To bow and to bend we shan’t be ashamed,

  To turn, turn will be our delight,

  Till by turning, turning we come round right.

  40

  “IT’S PRETTY good,” Deana said, after a long silence. “Yeah.” Then, “So what if, here, the kids could…”

  Deana was off again into another long “what-if this, what-if that” on their story, and all Lulu could think as she took notes was that Miss Baker was right, Deana had a great imagination, but Lulu was so so tired and she wasn’t sure she could keep it all straight. She just wrote. Blah, blah, blah wrote. Because she was really tired.

  It had gotten cold again overnight. No snow, and still dry, but the walk to school with Serena coughing and the cold pavement reminded Lulu about the need for boots. About that wish.

  Reminded Lulu about everything, and everything now felt like an enormous weight, like the gray puffy clouds above that were full of something ominous and it was coming down to rest on Lulu’s shoulders.

  What the gray puffy clouds were actually full of was snow.

  It started up around lunchtime, a feathery white snowfall. It would have been pretty if Lulu had been able to enjoy it. “Early snow,” said Jack. “You’ve got to find some boots
. There’s a really good shoe store on Main. Get your dad to take you there when he gets better.”

  Lulu nodded, staring at her rice and beans.

  Jack began bouncing again. “So, if we get parts, rehearsals will start Thursday. You have the permission slip?”

  “What permission slip?” Lulu asked, her chest tightening.

  “Your dad’ll have to sign off that you can stay late and come in some Saturdays, and that parents are asked to volunteer some. You didn’t get a slip?”

  Lulu remembered then that Mr. Franzen had given her a piece of paper at the beginning of the audition, but she hadn’t fished it out of her backpack since.

  Jack watched her carefully. Then he said, so quietly it was a whisper, “If you need me to sign it, I will. But…” He paused.

  She waited, meeting his eyes.

  “It’s a lot more serious than the other one. Because I could get in trouble. You know, like, for real,” he finished. He chewed his lip. “Is everything okay at home?”

  Oh, how Lulu wanted to open up. Oh, how she wanted to tell. She wanted to shift the burden off her shoulders, for once, even just a little. She wanted to spill everything, right there, in the lunchroom, have Jack tell her it would be all right, have him listen, nodding, sympathetic, and offer advice and possibly help her.…

  But Lulu knew what would happen.

  First, she wouldn’t be able to open up without really opening up, like with tears and stuff, and that just wasn’t possible, especially in the lunchroom—plus, tears.

  Second, her whole world would fall apart. Jack would probably have to tell a grown-up. He’d feel obligated to tell. They’d take her away, they’d take Serena away, and who knew if they’d ever let them be together again.

  Third, what could Jack do to help? He was just a kid. Just like her. What would he do that was any different, unless it got Lulu into trouble?

  And fourth, would Jack look at her the way her old Texas friends did when Mama died?

  Plus, the play. The possibility of that little bit of happiness in her life.

  All that would happen if Lulu opened up now to Jack was that she and Serena would be shipped off to some stranger’s house, probably apart, probably somewhere else away from this school and the play, and that would end every hope Lulu had of making her dreams come true.

  So she lied. “Everything’s fine. Just that Daddy’s been sick, and of course, he can’t write real well.” Lulu tried to make her voice sound normal. It was sort of like singing, she realized. Like acting. She was learning how to act. She could get better at this business. She sat straighter. “Just this once?” she said, brightly.

  He nodded, sighing. “Okay. Anyway, let’s meet up right after school, and we can find out together about our parts.” He didn’t sound so excited now.

  Lulu wasn’t so excited now, either, as she thought about the trouble she was making for Jack, and maybe even for Serena if she and Jack got parts and had to rehearse and might have to stay late and even on Saturdays. What would Laurie say then?

  But Lulu and Jack met up by the bulletin board, and they found out the good news, and he was excited again, because Lulu and Jack were both major leads in the play, and for once Deana was in a secondary role, but also was Lulu’s understudy.

  The hallway was filled with kids who were jumping and yelling and some who were disappointed and quiet, and Lulu saw that Deana was one of the quiet ones, but she wasn’t nasty or anything, and after she left with her bevy of friends Lulu felt free to be excited, too, and yell happy yells and jump around with Jack.

  Turning, turning, turning, until it turned out right.

  She was happy for the first time in thirteen days, for those few minutes, those few minutes of joy.

  41

  THE NEXT two days flew, mainly because of the snow. It snowed about three inches Tuesday, which everyone said was weird for so early in the fall. It would get warm again, everyone said, though it didn’t feel like it would get warm to Lulu. Maybe because of the snow, but Mrs. Rogers didn’t seem to be out and about, which was a relief as Lulu dragged Serena as fast as possible past her trailer. Lulu decided there were some good things about Montana weather.

  Lulu and Serena stayed in after-school on Tuesday for as long as they could, to keep as warm as they could before going back to the cold Suburban in the dusky dark. Lulu couldn’t cook outside because of the snow so they had to eat cold food, and they tucked in after eating and went to sleep.

  Eventually, for Lulu.

  Sleep, when it comes, does make the time go by faster.

  On Wednesday, Lulu felt their sneakers before putting them on. They were almost dry, but almost-dry sneakers are nearly as bad as wet sneakers in the cold. Serena’s cough had become persistent, and Laurie had said that if it wasn’t gone by the weekend, Serena couldn’t come to after-school until it was gone.

  The only good thing about the coming weekend was that the next Monday was a holiday so Lulu could keep Serena tucked in for three whole days, by which time Lulu was sure her sister would be fine.

  Now that almost two weeks had gone by since Daddy had left, Lulu felt like she was counting down. Last time he’d been gone a month. She’d begun to hope that maybe this time was like last time. At the end of the month maybe Daddy would, magically, reappear.

  Just like last time. And then everything would be fine. Serena would be fine. Lulu would be fine. Daddy would be proud of how she’d done, how she’d stepped up.

  Wednesday morning Deana was very quiet as they started their writing session. Lulu wrote, and asked questions, and Deana gave her one-word answers.

  When they got back to the classroom, Deana returned to her friends and one of them said in a loud voice, “So sorry you have to work with Miss Stinky, Dee. When do you suppose she last took a shower?”

  And Deana answered, “I know, right?” although she didn’t sound really enthusiastic.

  When she picked up Serena Wednesday afternoon, Lulu told Laurie she’d be late again on Thursday, maybe not there until five thirty, and Laurie frowned. “You’re in the what?”

  “The school play. I’ve got a lead part.” She was both a little bit worried and more than a little bit thrilled as she said it. Lead part.

  Laurie threw her hands in the air. “Your dad needs to think about making some other arrangements for your sister,” she said. “I’ve been in plays and the rehearsals can go late. We aren’t supposed to be responsible past five o’clock.”

  Lulu nodded and worried. The play was the best thing in her life now, really the only good thing. She had to make it work. She had to.

  Wednesday night, when they got back to the Suburban, there was another note about the remaining rent tucked under the windshield wiper. This time there was no smiley face. Lulu took a shower even though it was freezing when she ran in the darkness from the shower house to the Suburban. She only made eight paper cranes before her fingers began to hurt, and then she lay awake for what seemed like forever.

  By Thursday morning the snow was mostly gone, as predicted, but Serena’s cough wasn’t any better. Another worry.

  At lunch Jack signed her permission slip and didn’t say anything to Lulu about it when he slid it across the table back to her.

  * * *

  Play rehearsal was so much fun. Within a few minutes of rehearsing, Lulu forgot about permission slips and almost everything else. Every time she figured out a new song, learned some new dance moves, learned a new line, learned stuff about being on stage, saw how the play would go, Lulu felt like she’d disappeared inside a different world, even just for an instant. Mr. Franzen complimented her acting, too.

  “Just slip right inside that character, Lulu,” he said.

  When Lulu did slip inside her character, as if she was slipping into a new and completely different set of clothes, she felt the outer world slide away, and she felt so light and free she was almost floating. Acting was as wonderful as singing, Lulu decided.

  Mr. Franzen said, w
ith a big smile, “That’s it. Great job.”

  Not until she checked the clock and saw that she had five minutes to pick up Serena did she worry again.

  Lulu ran all the way, but she was still five minutes late.

  Laurie was outside the elementary school with Serena, her coat and hat on, backpack over her back, arms folded over her chest.

  “This cannot go on,” Laurie said, her voice dark. “If you’re late again, or your dad doesn’t show up, there will be consequences.” Laurie turned on her heel and headed up the street, going home.

  Lulu clutched Serena’s hand tight, rubbing it with her free hand to warm it up. “One more day, Reenie, and then we’ll have a long weekend to rest up. You’ll be as fit as a fiddle by Tuesday.”

  Serena gazed at Lulu with liquid dark eyes, then coughed and coughed, her whole small body shuddering.

  42 Way Before

  LULU LEANED against her mama’s shoulder. The baby had been a boy. She should have a little brother except he was too too little, and Mama was too too sick, and because of Mama’s sickness the baby was lost. They named him Robert, and said good-bye, just Mama and Daddy and Lulu in the hospital where it happened because everyone thought Serena was also too little, too little to really understand what had happened since Robert had really never been alive-alive. Nobody had even told Serena about the baby because Mama had become sick before Robert was very big anyway and why make things harder for Serena?

  “You can take care of Serena, Lulu. You will, won’t you?”

  “Of course, Mama,” Lulu said. She was speaking into her mama’s neck. They were home and Mama was in her own bed, and Lulu was lying next to her. At least for a time now, since Robert, Mama was home, but only for now because Mama’s treatments would go on and on. Lulu said, “I’ll take care of Reenie until you get better.”