Mr. Adams shook his head and loosened his tie. His fists opened and closed. He always seemed like he was about to explode—when he was around, anyway. Most of the time he was away on business.
“He pushed Jack first and knocked him over, and Jack wasn’t strangling Tigger,” I said.
Suddenly I could feel Sef nearby, smiling at me. “And Ben called Jack a retard. But I was the oldest one there, so I should have taken responsibility. So I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Adams nodded and seemed satisfied with this. “All right, sweetie?” she asked Ben.
He glared at me without saying anything.
I smiled. “Better go do my homework. Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Adams, good night, Ben. Bye, Kristen.”
I didn’t wait for a reply. I looked up at the black sky and sprinted across their lawn. I heard Mr. Adams’s voice, hard and low, “Ben, she’s a girl, for crissake.” I laughed and kept running fast. It was dark and the cold air smelled of smoke. I let something in my mind go and ran like I was racing Sef past the neighbors’ houses, past the trees and cornfields, into the dark. Then I saw him. His head was back, his mouth was open, and he was laughing. It was like I had been given a picture of him. I held on to it.
I ran until I was just muscle and motion. My heart was beating so fast, and my legs and arms were pumping, and I went all the way to Turtle Pond. Sef was close—I could smell him, that cottony, sweaty smell. The stars blinked above, then I turned and jogged slowly back, letting my arms and legs shake out. My head felt like it had opened up and was part of the enormous sky, the same sky in Iraq—this blue-black yellow-gray sky. I thought about how I hadn’t cared about anything in the past weeks. Now I did. I felt part of the world, this messed-up place without Sef. I ran faster toward home.
Finn’s Rabbit was parked on the side of the road. I stopped and ducked down so they wouldn’t see me. Van was inside, sitting almost in the driver’s seat. Finn lifted a bottle to his mouth and drank. Then he passed the bottle to Van. She held it in front of her as if she didn’t know what to do, then threw her head back and drank. When she was done, she shook her head fiercely back and forth. Her body shuddered. I couldn’t see her face.
“Van,” I wanted to call. “Van, what are you doing?”
• • •
When I got out of the shower, I saw Van tiptoeing back into the house. She came up the stairs and stared at me in my towel.
“I hate it here,” she said. Her words hit me like stones. Then she went into our room and fell asleep on top of her bed in all her clothes and makeup.
I felt an ache inside because she seemed so far away. I unzipped her long black boots and pulled them off. I slipped them on my own feet, tucking my jeans inside like she wore them, but they looked stupid, so I took them off. I took my comforter and put it on top of Van.
I went into Sef’s room. Jack was finally out of his camouflage outfit and asleep in Sef’s bed with a Robert Frost book upside down on his chest. His favorite poem was “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” He couldn’t read, but every night before bed he’d say the lines he’d memorized: “The woods are lovely, dark and deep, / But I have promises to keep, / And miles to go before I sleep, / And miles to go before I sleep.”
I opened Sef’s closet and put on the navy hoodie he used to wear all the time. I breathed it in. It still had the cottony, sweaty, spicy smell of him. Downstairs I could hear Dad talking and dishes clanging. It was almost nine, and I hadn’t started my homework. I was three days behind in social studies, and we had a test coming up. Math I could do on the bus, but I had to write up a lab report for science. My heart was still racing. I picked up The Giver and started to read.
Jonas was going to be the Receiver of Memories. That was me, too. Pictures of Jack, Van, and Sef laughing flashed through my head. Jonas was going to know too much. Jonas had the same color eyes I had, pale blue. Something bad was going to happen to him, I knew it. He wasn’t going to be a child anymore.
CHAPTER 13
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TODAY TO WIN IRAQI HEARTS AND MINDS?
To: Blue Sky
From: Cassie
Subject: hi from USA
Dear Blue Sky,
I like your blog name. What does it mean? There’s a song called “Good-bye Blue Sky.” Do you know it? I read all your blogs. I’m sorry the war has made things so bad for you and your family. It’s hard to imagine bombs falling and snipers shooting on the way to school. I have a brother in Iraq. You said you didn’t like the American soldiers, but he is trying to make things better. He really is. I didn’t want him to go, but he said he had to. He wants to make a difference.
I hope it’s OK to ask you this. When your neighbor got shot, you said that you couldn’t breathe or speak or do anything. This happens to me sometimes. I can’t breathe, and my heart beats so fast I feel like I’m going to suffocate or drown. It’s so scary. I don’t know what it means, do you? (I haven’t told anyone about this before!)
I hope you write back.
Cassie
To: Mom, Dad, Van, Cassie
From: Sef
Subject: I’m here!
Hi Mom, Dad, Van, Cass, and Jack,
Can’t believe I’m really here. I haven’t even showered yet. I heard it’ll happen about once a week (yup, I’m going to stink, Mom). At least the rest of Iraq smells worse than I do. It stinks of sewage and trash and smoke, and the streets are piled with garbage.
I’m carrying about 60 lbs every day between rifles, ammo, grenades, knives, the works. Better not tell Jack about that or he’ll go out and find 60 lbs of water guns to carry around. Hope you’re taking care of everyone, Jack, buddy! And, Cass, are you running? Van, I hope you’re doing good. I really miss you guys. I put a picture of us inside my helmet for good luck. Cass is even smiling! Remember that pic?
Not all the guys are the same as in training, but a lot of them are. Remember Hurricane, Mark, and Tim? Hurricane brought Calvin and Hobbes with him and a bunch of movies. He’s watched The Champ 36 times or something. I guess he used to be a boxer. Tim has all these Metallica and AC/DC CDs that he plays all the time on his crappy little box. Mark has about a hundred bottles of hand sanitizer that his mom packed. Anyway, we’re all helping each other out, watching out for each other.
There’s a sign on the entrance of the compound that says, “What have you done today to win Iraqi hearts and minds?” We haven’t done too much yet. Just starting to get familiar with our area of Baghdad.
My new drink of choice is Mountain Dew. We drink it all day. How’s that for excitement? Better go. Hang in there. That’s what we say around here. I’ll write as soon as I can.
Love,
Sef
I couldn’t remember which photo I was smiling in. Whichever one it was, it made me feel good that Sef had it inside his helmet for luck. I held on to my blue stone and read his email again and again.
To: Sef
From: Cassie
Subject: Re: I’m here!
Hey Sef,
Thanks for writing! Jack’s definitely in a competition with you for no showers, though he may not know it. He’s been wearing his camouflage every day. It’s pretty gross. And just so you know, he’s taken over your room. It’s really weird around here without you.
Mom seems OK. Dad’s been working late. Van’s still going out with Finn. Surprise, surprise. He gave us a ride to school the other day. If you ask me, HE’s weird. I’m good. I’ve been hanging out with Don Love’s sister Kim. She’s pretty cool.
How are you? Is your friend from boot camp there, Cali? What’s it been like?
I’ve been listening to your Pink Floyd CD. And Kim sent me a link to a blog by this girl in Iraq, Blue Sky, so I sorta feel like I know where you are. That’s all. Did you ever read The Giver? Write again when you can. It was great to hear from you.
/>
Love,
Cass
CHAPTER 14
SLEDDING INTO WHITE
AT LUNCH, Kristen Adams was at the next table over. She and her friends were laughing. One of them was pointing in my direction. Kim called me over. She was sitting with some eighth-graders who were studying for a test. “Want to sit down?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said. “Thanks.”
Kim popped a piece of fresh ginger in to her mouth. “Did you see the way Dave Swanson looked at you in social studies?”
This morning we had gone around the room telling everyone what blog we’d chosen. I said, “I chose to learn about Blue Sky, an Iraqi girl. My objective is to learn about Iraq, where my brother Sef is fighting in the war.”
“I’m not sure if it was you or the war, but he was really looking at you weird. He was sort of leering,” Kim said. “I mean, he almost fell off his chair.”
I remembered only that my face had gone hot. “Sometimes he looks at me like that in math too. He’s a little weird.”
“Yeah, but he seems harmless. Maybe he wants to do math problems together.”
“Can we change the subject now?” I groaned. “Thanks for sending the blogs.”
“Yup. So, have you heard from Blue Sky?”
“I emailed her, but I haven’t heard back.”
“She probably doesn’t have electricity.” Kim picked up a piece of sushi with her chopsticks. “Want to try a piece?”
“I’ve never had it before.”
She laughed. “My mom makes it all the time. Here.”
“Is it, uh, raw?”
“This one’s vegetable. Don’t worry, it doesn’t swim.”
It was tangy and crispy. “It’s good.”
We ate for a while without saying anything. Even though Kim was big, all her gestures were slow and delicate as she ate. Her chopsticks moved like wands dancing in the air.
“I see what you mean about The Giver now,” I said. “Imagine holding all the memories of the world? Just last week’s memories were enough.”
“It gets worse.”
“Don’t tell me.”
“Have you gotten to the part where he starts receiving the memories?”
“The first ones.”
“There’s one about war. Just thought you’d want to know.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
When Kim and I got up to toss our trash, one of Kristen’s friends intercepted me. “Did you really jump on Kristen Adams’s little brother and almost kill their cat?”
“Not exactly.”
“That’s what I heard.”
Kim said, “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you shouldn’t believe everything you hear? It’s a sign of low intelligence.”
“Yeah, whatever.” The girl spun around and left.
“I always think of the right thing to say when it’s too late,” I said. “Then I never end up saying anything.”
“Well, you’re not called Big Mouth Cass, are you?” she said. “I’ll see you in English.”
Michaela cornered me at my locker. Her shirt read DON’T TOUCH THE MERCHANDISE. It was such a bright neon green that my eyes blurred when I looked at it. “Why do you sit with Kim? She’s so weird.”
“She’s not that weird. She thinks you’re weird.”
Michaela burst out laughing. “That’s a good one. Speaking of weird, you’ve been really strange lately. When are you going to snap out of it?”
“Maybe tomorrow.” As if I had a choice.
“Good, because I really need help with my math.”
“That’ll be the first thing on my list of things to do,” I said.
Meg and Lisa waved to Michaela as they walked by. I glanced down the hallway. A girl’s camouflage backpack caught my eye. I thought of Sef in Iraq carrying his sixty pounds of ammo, and suddenly the whole world tilted. I could see him in his uniform. I felt dizzy. My stomach rose into my chest, and I couldn’t breathe right.
“I have to go,” I told Michaela.
“Nice hoodie,” she yelled after me. “Is it your boyfriend’s?”
“Yeah, right.” Sef’s hoodie went all the way to my thighs.
“Maybe Dave Swanson’s?” She laughed.
“Very funny, Michaela.” I ran down the hallway and ducked into the entrance of the computer lab and pressed myself into the cool wall. As if I could become part of it.
• • •
I was late to English. Mr. Giraldi had written on the board, “No color, no winter, no sun, no hills, no change, everything controlled.” He sat at his desk without saying anything. We sat at our desks and looked at him and each other.
“Mr. G, aren’t you going to do anything?” someone asked.
Someone else whistled, which made a few others laugh.
Mr. G still didn’t say anything. He rolled the orange ball across his desk.
“Mr. G, why aren’t you throwing anyone the ball today?” Jesse asked.
“Yeah, this is weird,” Sonia said.
“Really weird,” Michaela said.
“See how used to having things a certain way we are?” Mr. G finally said as he picked up the ball. “Is it possible to forget memories? Do they ever totally leave a person as they do in Jonas’s community? Let’s talk.”
“I have something to say,” Kim said.
Mr. Giraldi threw her the orange ball.
“I wonder how much freedom we really have. I mean, I have to get up every day and go to school. I have to take certain classes and then I have to do my homework. Then get up and do the same thing the next day.”
“You have a choice. You could drop out,” Rob said.
“Don’t think so. No one’s going to drop out of my class,” Mr. Giraldi said. “How much freedom do we have? Do we all give up something for the collective good? Let’s write about that tonight. One page.”
There were groans across the room.
“That’s what I call a collective whine,” Mr. Giraldi said. He put his hand up. “Now, let’s talk about the first memories Jonas receives.”
The first memory Jonas received was of sledding. For the first time, he felt the cold snow on his face and the speed of the sled as he flew down the hill.
I remembered sledding with Sef when I was little. I was in the front of the toboggan, and Sef was behind me. The snow blew up in my face as we flew down the hill. The light in the sky was white behind the trees flashing by. We were sailing toward this brightness. It seemed to last forever. Either I didn’t know enough to be scared then or I thought that nothing could happen to me. I wondered if that was what it was like to be Jack.
I asked Sef once what was wrong with Jack. He said, “Nothing. He’s just a little slow, but he’ll be able to do everything. Just you wait and see.” After Jack was born, Sef was different. He used to carry Jack around in a backpack for hours every day. It was like something wasn’t fair in the world and he was going to fix it. Make it better. The summer after Jack almost drowned, Sef decided he was going to teach him to swim. Every day he took him to the pond and made him paddle his legs and kick his arms. It was like he owed it to Jack. Maybe that was why Sef thought he had to go to Iraq—he felt like he owed it to someone.
While the rest of English class was talking about first memories, I opened The Giver and read the scene where Jonas learned about war. It was a memory of a boy soldier with matted blond hair crying out for water. He was just a boy, probably younger than Sef, and he was dying. Bleeding to death.
I stopped reading. I didn’t want to know any more. When the bell rang, I sat in my chair after everyone got up and left. When Mr. Giraldi asked if anything was the matter, I said, “I can’t read this book anymore. It’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair, is it?
Just do what you can, Cassie. That’s all.” He put his hand on my back. Sef did that sometimes.
I ran down the hallway before I started to cry.
• • •
The next day, I told Kim that I wasn’t going to finish The Giver.
All she said was, “Imagine having no color?”
I noticed almost everyone at Sonia’s table had on some fluorescent color saying, “Look at me!” The thing about Kim was that she didn’t care what I wore or if my hair and nails were done. When she took off her glasses, I thought how pretty she was. I’d never thought that before. It was strange not seeing what was right in front of me until I really looked. I told her about seeing Van and Finn.
She said, “Can you talk to her?”
“No, not really.”
“Well, you can talk to me whenever you need to.” She waved her chopsticks in the air. “My mom takes pills to relax. After work sometimes.”
I knew I shouldn’t say anything, but I did. “Mine does too. All the time since Sef left.”
“I feel like I’m the adult half the time.” Kim laughed. “My mother would kill me if she knew I said anything.”
“Ditto. I won’t say anything,” I said.
“Promise?”
Big Mouth Kim was asking me not to say anything—how funny was that?
“Of course,” I said.
“Well, things always get better, right?” Kim smiled.
“That’s the plan.” I smiled back at her. Something in my chest lifted and made me feel lighter.
CHAPTER 15
THE DEEP FREEZE
WHEN JACK AND I got home from school, Mom wasn’t there. There was no message or note. I played “Good-bye Blue Sky,” singing along loud. Jack sang louder, “Did did did you hear the falling bombs.” I started a list of Important Things to Tell Sef because Mom said we shouldn’t email him too much because he wouldn’t have time to answer. I wrote:
I borrowed your hoodie (sorry, I’m wearing it out).
Dear Blue Sky Page 7