Do you remember sledding?
What are we going to do about Jack’s outfit?
Don’t bother reading The Giver.
What do you need there?
I realized right then that I could set up a donation table and send a package to Sef’s team. I decided I’d ask our principal, Miss Pat, in the morning.
• • •
Mom still wasn’t home at suppertime, and Jack was hungry, so I made spaghetti with butter. We were eating and watching Tom and Jerry when she came in. She turned off our show, put on CNN, and stood there watching in her short sweater dress and knee-high black boots, swaying side to side.
“Where were you, Mom?” I asked.
“Out with some friends.” She finally turned her glassy eyes to me and Jack. “Having a good time. Is that all right with you?”
“You could have told us,” I said. “We were waiting for you.”
She spun around, bracing herself in the doorway, and then headed up the stairs.
“Don’t you want to know if Sef called?” I yelled after her.
She stopped and turned around. “Did he?” she said, and her face went pale.
“No.”
She went up to her room and didn’t come back.
When Dad got home, he asked, “Where’s Mom?”
“Upstairs.”
“I’m starving. What’d you have for supper?” He turned on the kitchen faucet and splashed water on his face.
“Spaghetti. Want me to heat some up for you?”
“Sure. Thanks, Cass.”
“With mushrooms?”
“Throw in whatever’s in there.”
I heated some sauce, added mushrooms, and poured it over a pile of spaghetti. I gave him a piece of baguette, and he ate and I did my homework. I liked that he didn’t ask me a lot of questions that I didn’t want to answer. He sopped up the last of the sauce with some bread and slumped in his chair. He glanced up at his 1994 Red Sox Championship banner and said, “Life is good, Cassie. Don’t forget that.”
I didn’t want to tell him about Mom, but I had to. “Can I say something, Dad?”
“Shoot.”
I said, “Mom’s been really weird.”
He leaned toward me. “Weird how?”
“We didn’t even know where she was. She used to make supper every night when Sef was here. Now I don’t know. It’s like none of us matter or something.”
Dad looked at me for a long time. Then he said, “I’m glad you told me. She’s having a hard time.”
“Dad,” I asked, “what’s the matter with her?”
“Don’t worry,” he said.
“I wish she’d be like she used to.”
He nodded. “I know.”
It wasn’t fair. I pulled on my sneakers and Sef’s hoodie. I needed to wash it, but it would lose the last smell of Sef if I did. I took off outside, running, gulping the cool air. I wanted to find Sef out there like I did the night I had to apologize to Ben Adams. I wanted to hear him laughing and I wanted him to fill up all that empty space inside me. But all I heard was the pounding of my own feet.
• • •
When I got back, Mom was in her bathrobe in the kitchen. Her makeup had been scrubbed off and her hair combed out. “Hi, Cassie.” Her voice was cold and hard.
“Hi, Mom.” I held my breath.
“Listen, I will take care of telling your father what I do. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Good.”
A Deep Freeze had begun. The next day she said good morning and then she buttoned up her lips for most of the day until she needed someone to watch Jack and then to chop some onions. Jack asked if I could take him to Dana Park. “Ask Mom,” I told him. “She’s not talking to me.”
He frowned and marched over to Mom. “Why aren’t you talking to my friend Cass?”
“Because,” she said, “I’m not feeling talkative. Now go to the park.”
Jack came back. “She’s not feeling talkative. I think she’s gonna talk to you tomorrow, Cass.”
But she didn’t. Not tomorrow and not the next day or the day after that.
CHAPTER 16
ONE OF THE GOOD ONES
To: Cassie
From: Blue Sky
Subject: Re: hi from USA
Dear Cassie,
We have electricity and I write email returns. You ask me why my name and I explain. The day America started bombing Baghdad was the day the sky turned gray. The electricity go out for hours at a time and all is dark much of a day. The explosions and helicopters are more loud in the dark. When I remember old Iraq I think of light and blue sky, the color it used to be. So you understand my name now.
In my past I went to school and parties and swimming. I do nothing now and I am tired. What I want? I want to live. I want my family to live. I try to have hope but it is difficult. I wish to have my spirit back. I wish to be a bird and fly high away. Except the sky is full with smoke and bombs.
I try to answer your questions. It is true I feel pain everyday when I hear the bombs. I feel drowning like you call. When I start to feel the panic I pray. I believe and thank Allah and live through panic. What you do?
Blue Sky
To: Blue Sky
From: Cassie
Subject: Re: Re: hi from USA
Dear Blue Sky,
Thank you for writing! I was so glad to get your email. I feel like I already know you from reading your blog. Hope you don’t mind I have so many more questions for you!
I understand about your name now, but I don’t understand what you are saying about the American troops. I thought we were helping. Were things better before the war? Why are we just blowing everything up?
I shouldn’t say this, but I keep thinking something bad is going to happen to us. When I am panicked I try to breathe. Sometimes I have to run to breathe right again. That’s what I do. I run and breathe until I am normal again.
Today we brought our grades home. My sister Van’s grades went down and now she’s not on the honor roll anymore. Of course my mother cried and cried about this because Van has always gotten straight A’s (and Mom cries all the time about everything since Sef left). What are the girls like there? I want to know more about your life. Tell me if I write too much.
Please be safe. I wonder if there are bombs near you today. How do you sleep with the explosions?
Sef is one of the good ones. He really is. My brother Jack wishes he was a marine too. He dresses up like one every day!
Write back, please.
Cassie
To: Cassie
From: Blue Sky
Subject: Re: Re: Re: hi from USA
Hello Cassie,
Is your sister Van sick or hurt? In Baghdad there is no medication or therapy left for those who need it. The girls here are same. Some nice, some not nice. Now what matters most is your last name Shiite or Sunni. In past time it is not important. We live in the same neighborhood, get married, have children, all the same. No difference except how a person pray. Today they ask what is your last name and try to separate Sunnis from Shiites. Sometimes they kill the other. How do you break families apart? If true I have to kill my best friend. My uncle kill his wife. And so on. We are Iraqis—not Sunni or Shiite or Kurd or Turk or anyone.
Everything changes so much here. Before women can wear jeans and T shirt, something like that. Today clothes must cover us up. Women must wear long skirts and headscarves. Men cannot wear shorts even if they play soccer. Only pants. Before it was choice. I think the terrorist do not read the Koran. They make rules to oppress only. Where do these people come I do not no.
Before this
country flow with gas. Now we line for gas. Wait 13 hours. It is crazy.
There was no Al Qaeda here before. Now terrorists are here everywhere. At beginning I talk with some soldiers. We give them water and bread. They sweat with all clothes and gear. Some give us candy back. Some talk nice. Maybe your brother Sef is one of these good ones because he is new. Three years and we are tired. We want our life. No tanks, no explosion, no guns, no raids. I try to be positive. It is stupid war. Everything blown to peaces. People lose houses, parents, children, friends.
I study now. Exams all week. Pray electricity stay so I get high marks. Pray for me this week and I pray for your family.
Blue Sky
To: Blue Sky
From: Cassie
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: hi from USA
Dear Blue Sky,
I read a little about the civil war there, but I don’t understand it. Who started it if all the Shiites and Sunnis were living together?
I hope your exams are going well. I hope you got the highest grades in the class. You must be busy. Do others in your class know about your blog? It’s hard to believe men can’t wear shorts to play soccer. What would I do? I wear jeans and T-shirts all the time.
My mother would throw a fit if she couldn’t drive. But maybe she wouldn’t have to worry about that because she’d never be able to wait 13 hours to get gas. Never. If she has to wait for anything for more than a few minutes, she goes crazy. It’s weird, ever since Sef left, my family are like strangers. It’s like I can’t reach anyone. You’ve been through so much I know I shouldn’t complain to you.
I will write again soon.
Cassie
CHAPTER 17
HANG IN THERE
IN THE MORNING I went to the principal’s office to ask her if we could collect things to send the troops in Iraq. She said we could start right after Thanksgiving. “We’ll do whatever we can to support Sef and our troops. I’m praying for him. Every single day, I am.”
“Thank you, Miss Pat,” I said, and stepped back in the hallway. I wasn’t going to cry, even though I felt like I’d been cut down the middle and my insides were falling out. I leaned back against the wall. I’d never be able to walk back to class.
Rob and Jesse came out of the main office. Rob put his hands up, and Jesse threw him the basketball.
“Are you busted?” Jesse asked. His Celtics shirt said PIERCE on the back.
“Not quite.” I forced a smile. I was sure my eyes were glassy. Of all the times to talk to me, why was he talking to me now? “I’m going to set up a donation table in the cafeteria.”
“For your brother?” Rob asked.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “And the others.”
“How’s he doing?” Rob tossed the ball to me.
I thought about how Sef and I had beat them the time we played HORSE. I threw the ball back and started down the hall with them.
“He’s all right. Says it’s better than school.”
They laughed. “When’s he come back?”
“Not sure. It’s supposed to be about a year, but they always extend the tours, I guess.”
“Think he’d like a CD or something?” Rob asked.
“Yeah, I do.”
“My mom would freak out if I went to Iraq,” Jesse said.
“My mom is freaking out.”
Jesse sprinted down the hall, pretending to shoot the ball.
“We have to go back to gym,” Rob said. “But you should hang out at Fresh with us sometime.”
Everyone had started hanging out at Fresh. They had smoothies, sandwiches, ice cream bars, and the best chocolate pie in the world.
“I’d probably have to bring my little brother Jack with me.”
“That’s okay. He’s funny.”
He knew Jack, and he still wanted us to go out with him.
“Guess I better go,” Rob said. Then he stopped. “You okay?”
I nodded.
“Good,” Rob said. “Hang in there.”
That’s what Sef said. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. That place inside of me that was pinched and hollowed out like a cut suddenly felt smaller. My chest didn’t hurt so much. It seemed to fill up with air and light. I breathed in. And out.
“Okay, see ya,” I said.
• • •
After school, I was upstairs getting money to go to the corner store with Jack when the doorbell rang. The FedEx truck was parked outside. “Answer the door, Jack!” I yelled.
Downstairs was quiet.
“Jack?”
He was sitting on the couch. I asked, “Why didn’t you answer the door?”
“I can’t,” he said softly.
“Why not?”
“Mom said I couldn’t. It might be someone to tell us Sef’s dead.”
“She said that?”
He nodded. “She wants to answer the door.”
“She really said that?”
He nodded.
“You didn’t believe her, did you?”
He shook his head. “Is she crazy?”
“Come on, let’s go.” I grabbed his hand.
I bought a Mountain Dew at the corner store. We took swigs until it was gone. Then we tossed the bottle back and forth, laughing and running down the sidewalk. I asked Jack if he wanted to go to Fresh after school sometime. “I’ll get you whatever you want. How about the chocolate pie?”
He kept looking at me. “Cass, you’re like me now.”
“How’s that?”
“You wear the same thing every day.” He pointed at Sef’s sweatshirt, then looked down at his camouflage outfit.
Of course Jack would notice something that made me more like him. He once said, “You have my eyes, Cassie.” I told him, “Yours are darker, Jack. See?” We stood side by side in the mirror. “No,” he said. “The way they look is the same. They look far, far, far away.” He said it in his high, lilting voice, and it was true.
• • •
That night as I ran I thought I heard Sef calling to me like he used to. Cassie, Cassie. I ran into the dark, faster and faster, trying to find him in the trees, the white of the headlights, the wind. The leaves trailed me like ghosts. If I ran fast enough, then I thought I could find him. He was out there. Was he trying to tell me something?
I was running past Sonia’s when their car stopped just ahead of me. Her mother opened the window and poked her head out.
My sweatpants and sneakers were splattered with mud, and I was sweaty and gross. Susan’s blond hair feathered over her shoulders, and her lips were shiny red. There was something so neat and perfect about her, like Sonia. And her father was like that too. No one would ever find any jelly or cannoli cream on the corners of his mouth or on his shirt.
“Hi, Cassie,” she said. “We haven’t seen you in ages. How is everyone? How’s Sef?”
“Uh, he’s pretty good. Says it’s crazy over there, but he’s doing all right,” I said.
“And how’s your family holding up?” Susan asked.
“We’re doing all right, thanks. Hanging in there, as Sef says.”
“We haven’t seen you for a while.” She turned to the passenger seat. I heard her say, “Sonia, aren’t you going to say hi?”
Sonia half waved. She seemed so far away from me. She didn’t have to imagine that someone could come to our door to tell us that Sef was dead. That was my job. She was in another world. I watched her flip her hair back and turn to the window.
“We better let you go. It’s getting late. Be careful running out here in this mess.” Susan smiled at me.
“I will.”
I took off into the night, running like crazy, the fall air whipping on my face.
CHAPTER 18
WAR IS
STUPID
ALL THANKSGIVING MORNING, Mom walked around with the phone in her hand while Dad cooked the turkey and made the mashed potatoes. Van slept all morning. I made corn muffins. There was no gravy, no stuffing, no squash with marshmallow and brown sugar. Sef was eight hours ahead of us, so by early afternoon, Mom had put the phone back in its holder. CNN blasted through the house.
When we sat down at the table, I asked, “What are we thankful for this year?”
“I’d be thankful if we could turn that damn TV off for once today. At least we could eat in some peace and quiet,” Dad said.
“No,” Mom said. “Please, no. It’s my only connection to—”
“What about us, Mom? We’re right here,” Van said.
Surprised, we all turned to Van, then Mom.
Mom pointed to the TV. The CNN lady with a blond helmet of hair was saying, “One of the deadliest attacks in the entire Iraq War has killed more than one hundred and fifty people, and hundreds more are expected to be injured. A coordinated mortar and bomb attack hit a major market in Sadr City, a Shiite slum of Baghdad. Nearly one hundred fifty thousand US troops are spending Thanksgiving in Iraq far away from family—”
“I told you.” Mom’s face went pale. “I knew it.”
“Shut the TV off, Jack,” Dad said. “Don’t, Grace. There are a hundred and fifty thousand troops there. He’s fine.”
“How do you know?”
“Believe me, I know,” Dad said. “Have I ever lied to you?”
“Promise?”
“Yes. Promise.”
“The war is stupid,” Jack said.
Mom turned to him. Her lips pinched up. “Who said that?”
“Cassie.”
“You think it’s stupid too,” I said to her.
“We have to respect the troops.” Her voice broke. “We have to.”
“Because we’re blowing everything up,” Jack said.
“Is that what she told you?” Mom asked.
He nodded.
“They’re looking for weapons,” Dad said. “They’re hidden in houses, and terrorists are everywhere.”
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