“Any chance you want to join me for my cooking lesson at Mariah’s, then? She said her dad doesn’t mind if it’s two people instead of one.”
I nodded, because I couldn’t make my mouth say words.
“Awesome!” Then he turned on his phone and had me add my number. “You deserve a prize, too, since the whole thing was your idea. I’ll text you to make a plan.”
After he walked away, I pulled Sierra to the edge of the hallway.
“Did that actually just happen?”
I kept running through the interaction in my head to figure it out. Maybe he just felt bad that I didn’t win anything?
“He asked you out,” Sierra said. “I’m not surprised.”
Asked me out. Was that really what he’d done?
We walked down the hallway to get our stuff, and Mariah waved when we passed her outside Mr. Ellis’s room. We both waved back, but there was a strange look on Sierra’s face. And when we finally got to our space outside Ms. Meadows’s room, I picked up my backpack, but Sierra just stood there watching me.
“What is it?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m happy for you, Lauren. About Jake,” she said. Then she took in a giant breath. “Just . . . please don’t take anything from Mariah’s house, OK?”
SIERRA
Shaky
I was so nervous
to ask Lauren
not to take anything from
Mariah’s.
But Mariah has been nice
to me, too.
And she’s in our group
with us.
Cares about the same things
we do.
Lauren’s eyes didn’t look
mad exactly
but I did feel
sick after
like I had made things
worse.
When I got home,
I looked into my kaleidoscope
and this time shook and shook
for green to
rise up
not for Mom,
for Lauren.
Every Shiny Thing
When Mom’s days faded from
green to orange,
there was this in-between time—
when I could joke or snuggle her out
of her coming anger.
Like how you see storm clouds
but then the weather shifts,
the sun pushes them out
all it does is drizzle.
Now, searching for green
I wonder,
though,
if Lauren’s already so gone.
Thunder—
lightning—
orange.
I wonder if no warning
or joke or anything
can distract her
from stealing
then selling
every shiny thing.
Careful
I leave the kaleidoscope,
go back downstairs.
Anne’s cleaning the good china,
gold-edged with birds,
for Thanksgiving.
Her brown arms lit up
by the kitchen window sun.
She asks if I can help her.
I do, careful
not to break the platter
she hands me.
A little honored
she trusts me with it.
I wonder
what I’ve done
to deserve it.
In Half
Anne says her cousin Benny
is coming and his teenage son, Leo,
they’re bringing the sweet potatoes.
She says when she and Carl
got married, her cousin Benny
stood by her side
her parents so angry
she was marrying someone white.
Her parents, long since passed,
never really accepted Carl.
It reminds me of Nan
how she never liked it when Mom
had boyfriends who weren’t white.
How they’d fight.
Then Anne says the caseworker called.
She’s coming Saturday to take me
to visit Dad. “She also says
there’s been a new development with your mom.
Maude said she has some better news to share.
She wants to do it in person.”
When she says it, I drop
one of her plates,
by accident.
Tears prick my eyes
as I stare at its gold edges,
colorful birds,
now broken
in half.
Repurposed
Anne puts an arm around me
says sometimes broken things
get repurposed
to make something beautiful.
She takes me to the basement.
Gives me a hammer.
Tells me to smash the rest of it.
When I look at her confused
she laughs, says
broken things
make the best jewelry.
So I take the hammer.
From birds we make
beak, foot, wing.
Hiding
Anne’s being so nice to me
I feel guilty
when I sneak into Amy’s room.
I sift through Lauren’s box,
under Amy’s bed.
Wishing I could make it vanish.
I wonder if Anne
would actually understand
Lauren’s plan
and if —
or how—
I would ever feel brave
enough
to tell her.
Suddenly wish I had Lauren’s
8 Ball.
Maybe it could
give me
a sign.
Almost Every Moment
The house smells of turkey.
Anne has me peeling the white potatoes.
It is hard for me to focus, wondering
almost every moment
what Maude has to say about Mom.
Suddenly, the phone’s ring—
loud as a siren—
sends me shivers.
I can tell from Anne’s voice
it’s her.
Safe?
“Hi, baby girl,”
she says.
Tears slide down my face
just hearing her voice.
She says Happy Thanksgiving,
how she misses my face.
Asks what it’s like where I am,
how’s school.
How’s Lauren, “justice girl” she calls her.
I tell her none of it is horrible
but I need her to get better,
how much I miss her.
She tells me she’s trying really hard
that it won’t be long, not to worry
but then I hear a man’s voice in the background
and she says she has to go,
and I feel a part of me sink
as I hang up the phone.
The Only Color
Anne follows me
as I run from the phone
to my room.
I ignore her
as I watch the colors in the kaleidoscope
swirl and blend and fade into one another.
I ask for green,
like a prayer,
beg for it
to rise to the top.
But when I look in again,
all I can see are mirrors.
Mom chose that man
over me.
She never gets to talk to me
but she chose him.
The colors come in, swirling:
Orange rises to the top.
Reverse
Benny and Leo arrive right on time.
Leo’s tall with dark brown skin,
he reaches out his hand to shake mine.
I shake it, blushing.
Benny says we should play a game
while the grown-ups “catch up.”
Leo and I both shrug.
Neither of us want to say
which game we will play.
But finally I suggest Uno,
something Dad and I played a lot
before.
Leo’s so quiet
I am the one who has to make conversation.
I ask him about school, sports, where he lives.
He gives me one-word answers, doesn’t ask me anything
just tells me to draw four.
In a last attempt,
I ask him about his mom,
he says she’s not around.
Never was, so much.
He says Anne’s the closest to a mom that he has.
He says he calls her every week to check in with her.
“Don’t take her for granted,”
he says,
glaring at me.
I wonder how much she’s told him.
How much she’s told Benny.
Shocked by his words, though,
I don’t ask.
He plays his card.
Reverses the turn back to me.
Not at All
During the meal,
Benny leads the conversation.
Leo and I both
still quiet.
Benny’s starting a food bank.
He says it is a lot of hard work
and he is scared of being in over his head,
running a nonprofit is no joke.
Carl laughs, says tell me about it.
Talks for a while about life at the co-op.
I think about how Nan
used to shop at food banks
but Mom refused to,
even when we hardly had any money.
Instead, she would get guys in bars
to buy our groceries.
I look down at all my
turkey,
mashed potatoes,
gravy
thinking of Leo’s stare
suddenly not feeling like eating
at all.
More Stares
Saturday comes,
Maude arrives.
Asks if I’m excited to see my father.
It is hard to tell, all I can really feel
is anxiety, wanting to know what’s up with Mom.
She says she wants Anne and Carl there
when she tells me.
I sit on the oversized old couch by myself.
Three adults, in chairs,
staring at me.
Maude says she has good news.
Mom’s jail sentence ended up being a bit longer than expected.
She had some emotional issues.
But, after an evaluation ordered by the judge,
they decided she was a candidate
for “alcohol addiction rehabilitation.”
A requirement for her to get me back.
After rehab, she will need to find a job and housing
and then plan A is me returning home.
When Mom called me she wasn’t in jail anymore.
That must have been an orderly’s voice on the phone!
Someone told her time was up!
I almost jump up, I’m so excited.
But I can tell from Carl’s look to Anne
that they are only pretending to smile.
Faking it till they make it.
Ride
When we get to the prison
to see him
they tell us
he’s been in a fight
was sent to solitary, sorry.
Maude gets so angry
says she called just yesterday
the guard shrugs
says
things can change
so fast. Blink of an eye.
On the way back
to Anne and Carl’s,
Maude asks me why I’m not
more upset.
I tell her if you ride a roller coaster enough
it starts to feel like a carousel.
All the up, downs make a circle,
spinning.
Beside, Between
Before Maude leaves,
I ask when I can see Mom.
She says she will talk to Mom’s counselor
and get back to me.
It used to be just Mom and me
snuggling,
under blankets,
watching TV
now there is so much space
and so many people
between us.
Half-Made
When we get home,
back too early,
Audrey’s there.
Working with Anne.
Making jewelry.
Anne waves me over,
asks me to join them.
She turns up her Joni Mitchell.
Makes some more tea.
I think about Dad
all alone now
in a cell.
No music.
Nothing.
Wonder what Mom’s allowed in rehab.
Anne makes sure not to ask about Dad
in front of Audrey.
Audrey keeps cursing
as she tries to bend wire
around and through beads.
She keeps dropping the cutters.
And looking over at me
as I put wire through bead, carefully.
I decide it is for Mom,
as I braid wire
pull it through
green glass.
Audrey has to keep asking Anne questions.
Anne touches her shoulder,
teaches her the same thing a few times,
always speaks gently.
At the end,
Audrey is so excited about her new earrings and necklace.
Though a lot of the wire is crooked and some beads are loose.
Says she hasn’t made anything this crafty
maybe ever.
She laughs.
I look away as she and Anne hug.
Go up to my room,
leaving my own half-made bracelet on the table.
Into the Mirror
Sunday, I ask Carl
if we could pick up Cassidy . . .
figure he’ll ask fewer questions than Anne.
On the way, he asks if I’ve ever heard of
companion gardening.
He laughs at the way I say, “Um, no.”
He says one of the most exciting organic gardening tricks
he’s learned in recent years
is that some plants do better in proximity to each other.
He’s explaining how they help each other
grow safer,
stronger
as we pull up to Cassidy’s.
Lena on the peeling porch smoking.
The twins running around the front yard.
No winter jackets.
I look at Carl and wonder what he’s thinking.
But he only grins.
I look down at the Northwest Friends sweatshirt
wish I hadn’t worn it.
Carl marches out of the car, up to the house,
extends his hand to Lena.
Lena gives me a big hug. Says she can’t wait till I come back.
Cassidy looks surprised when she sees Carl.
Probably because he’s so much older than our moms.
Not what she expected.
In the old car,
Cassidy and I sit in the back together.
Cassidy chomps her gum.
She talks fast, nervous, tells me
about all our old friends.
I worry Carl is going to finish his lesson
on companion gardening.
Instead—
he just smiles in the rearview mirror.
I can tell he’s not smiling for himself
it’s for Cassidy,
it’s for me.
Cassidy surprises me, says she loves all this stone.
Reminds her of Harry Potter.
She casts spells in the foyer.
We run up to my room,
and Seeger follows us.
She asks to go into Amy’s room,
but I tell her we can’t.
Lie and say it’s Carl’s office,
figure it isn’t my secret to tell her.
And don’t want to risk her seeing Lauren’s stuff.
What would she think of Lauren stealing for kids with special needs?
Would she laugh? Think it was a waste?
I think about introducing them
but—now that it’s a possibility, I worry—
Would Cassidy think Lauren’s stuck-up?
Would Lauren think Cassidy was hyper?
“I know you say you’re not lucky.
But I would love this much space
away from my sisters,” she says.
“Maybe you think you would,
but if it happened, you wouldn’t.”
“Sierra, you have a whole bathroom to yourself?!”
Am I supposed to feel guilty?
Cassidy blows a bubble.
Then snaps it.
“What’s that?” Cassidy points out the window.
“Compost.
They’re big into the environment.
They use that dirt made from food
to help grow other food.”
“Why don’t they just go to the store? They’re rich.”
I think of Lauren.
I shrug.
“The rich people out here don’t seem that into being rich.”
“That’s weird,” Cassidy says.
“If I was rich, I’d shop till I dropped.”
“I know what you mean,” I say simply.
Though as I say it, I’m not sure.
“Little orphan Annie, can I please run away and stay here with you?”
She puts her hands in a begging position and bats her eyes.
My heart burns wanting to yell at her,
how could she say she wants to be torn from her family?
Can’t she see how hard this is for me?
Can’t she see this isn’t a joke?
But instead, I do what Cassidy and I always do:
ignore stuff.
We stop talking and play cards
we slap jack after jack
until our hands burn red.
All Because
This time,
Mom calls
and it is easy
to talk to her
her voice
sounds clear
Every Shiny Thing Page 12