She was in the middle of knitting a violet square, concentrating on making nice, even stitches, when she felt someone sit down next to her.
“What are you doing?”
Hyacinth glanced up briefly, positive that the question could not have been directed at her. There was Maria, looking right at her. Hyacinth looked behind her, then back at Maria.
“Me?” Hyacinth asked.
“This is knitting, right?” Maria asked, touching the square Hyacinth was working on.
“Yes,” Hyacinth replied.
“Cool,” Maria said, taking a bite of her french toast stick. “My grandma tried to teach me to knit once, but it was hard.”
“Once you get the hang of it,” Hyacinth said, “it’s pretty easy.
“Can you show me? I’ll trade you a french toast stick.”
“Okay,” Hyacinth said, opening up her bag of yarn, pushing it toward Maria, and taking the french toast stick in return. While Hyacinth ate, Maria combed through the bag and selected a light-blue yarn.
“Can I use this?” Maria asked.
“Sure.” Hyacinth pulled out an extra pair of knitting needles and helped Maria cast on a row of twenty stitches, then showed her how to manipulate the needles and wrap the yarn to create a stitch. Maria tried it.
“I think I did it!” Maria said, triumphant. “Is this right?”
“That’s perfect! Now you just need to do that over and over again a gazillion times, and then you get a blanket,” Hyacinth said, returning to her violet knitting patch.
“Cool,” Maria said. “Is this blanket for you?”
“No, it’s for Orlando. I want to give him something for his room.”
“What did you say about Orlando?” asked Leo, who had sat across from them, munching on a bowl of cereal.
“She’s making a blanket for him,” Maria said importantly. “I’m helping.”
“I want to help,” Leo said, abandoning his breakfast. “Can you teach me?”
Hyacinth looked up, startled. Leo had never, ever said anything to her before. “Um, sure.” She dug out another set of knitting needles, and he came around the table so he could see what she was doing. When she thought he had the hang of it, he chose a red yarn and started to knit. As more third graders arrived, they gathered around the knitters to see what they were doing. Pretty soon, Hyacinth had given out all six pairs of her knitting needles, and there was a little group around her asking questions about whether they had made a mistake or whether there were other ways to knit than just the way she had shown them. As they got into a rhythm, they started planning how they could work on their squares at recess or after school.
“How come you eat breakfast here in the mornings?” Hyacinth asked Maria when the conversation turned to a video game that Hyacinth knew nothing about.
“My parents like it when I eat breakfast here,” Maria told Hyacinth. “They both leave really early for work. My dad has to be at his construction site at seven, and my mom cleans apartments all the way in Brooklyn and it takes over an hour to get there on the subway.”
“Do you like the food here?” Hyacinth asked as she got to the end of her knitting row and turned it around.
“It’s okay,” Maria said. “All the breakfast food here is so sweet, isn’t it? In Ecuador, we would eat an empanada or a piece of bread with jam. Sometimes we would have plantains. Never french toast sticks.”
“The breakfasts at my home are different from what they serve here too,” Hyacinth said. “My mom sometimes makes us oatmeal with fruit, or blueberry pancakes, or breakfast cookies filled with oats and cranberries.”
“You have cookies for breakfast?” Maria asked, her eyes wide.
“They’re breakfast cookies,” Hyacinth explained. “She makes them with honey or maple sugar instead of regular sugar. I’ll bring you one next time if you want.”
“I definitely want to try that,” Maria said as she started a new row of stitches. “I’m getting tired of french toast sticks!”
When the bell rang, the sound surprised Hyacinth. She usually counted the seconds before the bell, setting her watch exactly to the school clocks so she would know how much time she had left. But today, for the first time, she wasn’t waiting for the bell. Today, she wouldn’t have minded hanging out in the cafeteria a little longer.
Twenty-Three
Isa was ambivalent about being back at school; she was glad for the distraction but not sure she was ready to face crowded hallways and demanding course work. When she opened her locker, a note fluttered to the floor.
I’m sorry about Mr. Jeet. What can I do to make you feel better? Makeovers at lunch? Lmk.
Love,
Allegra
Isa smiled. She folded the note into her pocket, then went through the contents of her locker, taking out the books she needed for the morning.
She jumped when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Benny was standing there, a backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Hey, I’m sorry about Mr. Jeet,” he said. “I tried to find you at the funeral, but it was so crowded.”
“It’s okay,” Isa said. “The funeral was a little overwhelming with all those people.”
Benny shifted to his other foot. “How was the garden party? I had a shift at the bakery, so I couldn’t stay. A couple of customers told me about the memory fence. That’s a good idea.”
“I wasn’t sure how it was going to turn out, but everyone seemed to really like it. When we were helping people, we met a lot of his old friends, and we learned things about his life that we never knew before—”
“Benjamin, I’ve been waiting for you,” a girl interrupted, pulling on his backpack. Her eyebrows were sharp arrows on her face as she glared at Isa, then back at Benny. “You said we could talk about homecoming on the way to class.” She spun around, her shiny hair swishing, and stomped down the hallway.
“Gotta go,” Benny said, flashing a smile at Isa. “I’ll catch up with you later.” He jogged after the girl, and together they rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.
Isa watched them leave. She had been prepared to take Orlando’s advice and ask Benny about homecoming, but it looked as if her question was answered: he was going to the dance with this girl.
Isa let out a breath and closed her locker, then set off down the hall toward her first class. As she jostled her way between the other students, she wondered why her heart felt so hollow. Benny was allowed to be friends with whoever he wanted to be friends with; it didn’t matter to her, right?
The day passed in a blur. She saw Benny in biology, and he seemed perfectly normal the entire time. They did not talk about homecoming. At lunch she managed to avoid getting a makeover. Allegra, concerned at how tired Isa looked, met her after school and forced her to go to the cat café so they could get hot chocolate and catch up on the work she had missed when she was out of school. There was a line when they got there, so they put their bags down at their favorite table before getting in the queue.
“I saw Benjamin at the funeral yesterday,” Allegra said as they inched up to the register. “He was wearing a suit. And dress shoes.”
“Really?” Isa said, raising her eyebrows. Benny usually wore a sports jersey and jeans. She had seen him in a suit only a few times before, and always at school dances, but he definitely did not wear dress shoes for the dances.
“He looked pretty good,” Allegra said. “Maybe he’ll dress up for homecoming, too.”
“I . . . don’t think we’re going to homecoming together,” Isa said. “He’s going with someone else.”
Allegra leaned back and put her hands on her hips. “What?”
“Remember the girl I saw him with the other day? She was at school this morning,” Isa said. “And they were talking about homecoming and he walked her to class.”
“But—why—That’s just—I can’t—What?” Allegra was uncharacteristically short of words.
“It’s fine,” Isa assured her. “You know what? Let’s just go t
o homecoming together. No guys.”
Allegra got her words back. “I meant to tell you that yesterday in English Lit, Javier asked me to go with him. I was hoping for you-know-who”—she tilted her head toward Jason, who was filling cookie and drink orders—“but I gave up waiting for him to ask me. I gave so many hints!” Allegra sighed. “But Javier’s fun. Hey, why don’t I ask him to bring a friend, and we can all go together!”
Isa shook her head. “No, it’s okay. You have a good time. I’ll stay home and practice violin or help Jessie and Orlando with their science fair project.”
“That just sounds sad,” Allegra said. “Come with us. Homecoming won’t be fun without you.”
The customers in front of them finished their order and stepped to the side, and Allegra and Isa went to the counter. Isa peered at the cookie selections for the day. Her mom had recently perfected a new recipe: a delicious pecan molasses chocolate chunk cookie.
“Hey. I heard some homecoming talk,” Jason said, leaning his elbows against the counter. “Are you two going?”
“You know, we were just talking about that,” Allegra said, smiling up at him. “I’m going with Javier. What about you?”
“I’m a little late on the planning,” Jason said. “It’s been so busy here, plus I’ve been trying to stay on top of schoolwork. But I was hoping to go. Isa, are you going?”
Allegra smiled gleefully as she looked at Isa. “I’ve been trying to convince her to go, but she’s being difficult.”
Jason stood up and started their drinks, not even having to ask what they wanted because they always ordered the same thing: hot chocolate, extra whip, with a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg on top. “Isa, we can go together, if you want,” he said over his shoulder.
Isa blinked. “What?”
Jason turned back to the counter, two mugs in his hands. “We should go together. I promise to wear clothes that don’t have your mom’s bakery logo on them. You might not recognize me.”
Isa just stared at him until Allegra jabbed her in the ribs.
Say yes, Allegra mouthed.
Isa wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t get her mouth to form the word. Jason was great! He was funny and nice! And yet, she couldn’t say the word.
“Let me think about it?” Isa said instead.
“If you’re worried about your mom,” Jason said, “she said it was okay. I already asked her if I could ask you.
“That is so nice,” Allegra said with a sigh. “He already obtained parental consent.”
“It’s just that things are a little strange right now,” Isa explained, not wanting Jason to think she didn’t like him. “Our neighbor passed away last Friday. I don’t know how much I’m in the mood for a dance.”
“Hey, no problem,” Jason said, putting a couple of cookies on a dish and sliding it over. Then he wrote his phone number on a Post-it Note and put it next to the cookies. “Call me when you decide.”
“Thanks,” Isa said, and they paid for their order. Isa took the note and the cookies and Allegra took the hot chocolates, and when they got to their table, Allegra gave a little squeal of delight.
“Holy smokes, Jason Chu just asked you out,” Allegra whisper-shouted at Isa. “Wait. I just need to sear this moment in my memory. What’s his number? Can I plug it into my phone?”
Isa shoved the Post-it with Jason’s number on it into her pencil case. “No. I don’t want you texting him weird things about me.”
Allegra put a hand on her chest. “Moi? Your best friend? Texting your boyfriend weird things about you?”
“Shhh!” Isa briefly dropped her head to the table. “He’s definitely not my boyfriend. Geez, Allegra, get a grip.”
Allegra looked back at Jason. “Too bad I already said yes to Javier . . .”
Isa shook her head. “I’m not even sure I want to go to homecoming.”
Allegra sat down and stared at Isa. “You’re not still holding out for Benny, are you? Because it sounds like—”
“I know,” Isa interrupted. “I’m not waiting for him to ask anymore. Can we please stop talking about this? I need to get caught up on my homework so I can go home and practice violin.”
Allegra did an eyebrow wiggle and rested her chin on her fingertips. “Stop being boring. Let’s talk about Jason instead.”
“No,” Isa said, but she couldn’t help smiling. She opened her books, grabbed a highlighter from her pencil case, and pointed it at Allegra. “Get to work.”
Twenty-Four
It was an endless day at school, and Jessie felt as if she were wading through sand as she made her way to her classes. Once the high school bell rang, Jessie headed to the elementary school to pick up Oliver, Hyacinth, and Laney. Her siblings appeared to mirror her own mood: tired and listless. Even Laney had nothing to say when Jessie asked about her day. When they got to the brownstone, Laney snuggled under a blanket on the couch with Tuxedo and Paganini, while Oliver headed outside to the backyard to feed the chickens and do homework in his treehouse. Jessie assumed “homework” really meant that he would meet up with Angie and Jimmy L and eat candy. Hyacinth pulled out her yarn and needles and started knitting, which Jessie knew was her way of relaxing.
Jessie sat at the dining room table and pulled out her textbooks. She was going to tackle her English Lit homework first since that was the most boring. She wasn’t a huge fan of the book they were reading, a novel set in the 1920s about people who seemed to be in love with each other when they shouldn’t be. The story confused her, and she assumed she was reading it all wrong. She much preferred to read National Geographic, where all the stories were backed up by science. There was nothing bewildering about those stories.
An hour later, Jessie was ready to pound her head against the table. The book really was awful. She laid her cheek against the cool wood of the table, and that was how Mama found her when she came home at four o’clock.
“Hey,” Mama said, resting a hand on Jessie’s head. “Everything okay?”
“Just wonderful,” said Jessie.
“You know what I think you need?” Mama asked. “Some fresh air. I just saw Orlando and Mr. Beiderman head to track practice. Why don’t you go to the park and yell encouraging words to them as they run?”
“That’s a terrible idea,” Jessie said, but she got up from the table anyway and headed for the front door.
“That’s my girl,” Mama said, helping Jessie put on her jacket and slipping a few homemade apple-cider caramels into her pocket. Mama then made her way to the couch, where Laney had fallen asleep with Tuxedo in her lap and Paganini nibbling at the hem of her T-shirt. “Invite Orlando and Mr. Beiderman for dinner,” Mama said to Jessie. “I’ll defrost a lasagna.”
“Okay,” Jessie said. She stepped out onto the sidewalk and took a deep breath. The smell of autumn met her nose: crunchy leaves and crisp apples and roasting vegetables. She headed toward the park, her hands buried deep in her pockets and her head tucked into her jacket.
As she walked by Harlem Coffee, Jessie looked through the windows and saw people sitting at the tables. They were typing away on their computers or drinking coffee and laughing with friends. She continued down the street, past a woman pushing a cart that had two bags of groceries and a group of people in medical scrubs heading into a bodega for a late-afternoon snack.
It was strange, Jessie thought as she continued to the park. The past few weeks had felt so completely disruptive, and yet time still passed and people went on with their lives. They hung out with their friends and walked their dogs and bought groceries. But for Jessie, life seemed utterly transformed. It made her think about Mr. Beiderman and how affected he had been by the death of his wife and daughter, Luciana. Mr. Beiderman, although trapped by grief for so many years, had found the strength to move on.
Jessie breathed in the autumn air, and for the first time in days, she felt a little light flicker on inside her. And when she reached the park and caught a glimpse of Mr. Beiderman, surrounded by Orlando and f
ive other runners, the light became a little stronger. She stood by the coach, who was timing everyone’s laps with a stopwatch and writing results on his clipboard. Occasionally, when he saw someone moving particularly slowly, he would yell, “Pick it up! I will run next to you and blow this dang whistle in your ear the whole time!”
Standing by the coach was a small group of people who cheered on runners as they passed by. As far as Jessie could tell, these people weren’t related to any of the runners at all. They appeared to be hanging out for the sole purpose of encouraging the high school cross-country team.
Not too long after, she watched Mr. Beiderman as he completed another lap and passed by them again. And Jessie was surprised to find that he ran a lot better than when she had first seen him jog. Six months ago his shoulders hunched forward, his chin jutted out, and his feet shuffled. He did not inspire confidence that he could complete a marathon. But now his stride was nice and long and his head was in line with his body and his feet no longer dragged along the ground.
“Looking good, Mr. B!” Jessie yelled as he passed. Mr. B gave her a thumbs-up and Orlando did his cool chin-lift thing. She was amazed. Orlando was a miracle worker if he could turn reclusive, couch potato Mr. Beiderman into a marathon runner!
They went around a few more times, Jessie cheering them on each time. Was it possible that Mr. Beiderman would actually make it through the entire marathon? Not even once in the past six months had Jessie believed that he could finish the course. She felt a flush of pride at his progress over the past three years. When she had first met him, he hadn’t left his apartment in six years. Now he was training for the biggest marathon in the world.
The runners were starting to cool off, and Jessie watched Mr. Beiderman and Orlando come her way. They were drinking from water bottles and looked to be in serious conversation. When they saw her, their faces lit up.
The Vanderbeekers Lost and Found Page 12