How did it get there? What happened to the grown-up jellyfish that he had in the jar before?
Turns out, that baby jellyfish WAS the grown-up jellyfish. When the scientist forgot about the grown-up jellyfish, it should have died. But instead, it decided to start over. It transformed back into a baby until it was safe. Then it became a grown-up all over again.
This species is called the immortal jellyfish. Whenever an adult feels scared or gets hurt, it can turn back into a baby until things settle down. Then it grows up and keeps going.
When life gets hard, it starts over and tries again. As many times as it takes.
Chapter
26
Ms. Anders guided Red toward a small room at the back of the agency offices. If it hadn’t been for the pressure of her caseworker’s hand between her shoulders, Red might have turned around and hightailed it out of the building. Then again, she might have hightailed it straight into her mother’s arms. She wasn’t sure. She wanted both things at the same time.
For the last five days, confusion had made Red blustery. One minute she was thrilled, almost giddy with excitement to see her mom again. The next, she stormed around the house, as quarrelsome as Lancelot the llama. She would open the front door, ready to run out and keep running. But then, staring at the long slice of dirt road in front of her, her arms would suddenly ache with wanting to hug Celine, and she’d stay put.
But now, as she got closer to the visitation room, anxiety made her fingers and toes tingle. Just twenty more steps until she saw her mother … Just ten more steps … Five …
The room was squat and square. Fluorescent lights flickered above, and daylight poured in through the back windows. The room looked over the parking lot on one side, and was looked over by an office full of shabby cubicles on the other.
A woman sat in one of the fabric-covered chairs by the window. At first, Red didn’t recognize her. There was a softness about her that was unfamiliar. She was less bone and angle and sharp corners than the last time they’d been together.
“Hello, Wanda,” Ms. Anders said.
“Ruby.” The woman slipped off the chair and onto her knees, arms out. Like an angel.
The sound of her voice squeezed every ounce of breath from Red’s lungs. Her vision blurred and she clenched her teeth to keep the tears from escaping. She didn’t even feel her feet moving as she crossed the room. Arms lifted. And then she was wrapped around her mother, tight and snug.
“Hello, you,” her mother whispered into Red’s hair.
Red said nothing. She just held on.
Wanda’s sable hair was long and thick and wild, like Red’s, and always seemed to be moving. It tickled Red’s cheeks as they hugged and hugged. Red breathed her in. She was wearing a cool, fresh perfume, like the lingering scent after rain. Under that was the familiar, cloying fragrance of cigarettes and salt. The perfume was unfamiliar, but the tang of smoke smelled like home.
“Well,” Ms. Anders said briskly, her voice sliding between them like a scalpel. A single flash of anger sizzled through Red at the intrusion. “This is a supervised visit, so I’ll be just over here.” She motioned to a chair in the far corner.
Wanda pulled back from Red’s embrace. Her brown eyes skimmed over the caseworker. “Thanks so much, Mrs. Anderson. I’m excited to see my little girl again.”
Ms. Anders pursed her lips as if physically holding back words.
Wanda put her hands on her hips, examined Red. “I can’t believe how grown-up you are!”
Red flushed.
“Go on, spin for me. You’re practically a young lady.”
Red obeyed, turning in a slow circle. The look of approval on her mother’s face was sunlight.
“My, my. You really do look like me,” Wanda said.
“You’re beautiful.” Red felt shy and awkward next to her mother.
“Thank you. I’ve put on some weight, I’ll be honest.” Wanda ran her hands over her hips. “But I’ll get things under control now that I’m home. Come on. Let’s sit.”
Red admired Wanda’s glittery golden high heels.
“So,” Wanda said, folding her hands into her lap.
“So,” Red repeated. Her heart was pounding so loudly, she could barely hear her own thoughts.
Wanda lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Tell me about yourself, Ruby.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um, people still call me Red.”
Wanda frowned. “Why?”
Why? Red blinked. “Because … that’s what you call me.”
“Oh, right.” Wanda looked Red over, top to bottom, a smile snaking up her lips. “I remember. Ruby was way too fancy for a kid like you.” She combed her fingers through the length of her hair, laughing.
Red’s mouth felt like sandpaper. She stared at Wanda’s shoes, watched her long legs bouncing up and down.
“So, how’s school?”
“Okay.”
“Do you have a special boy?”
A special boy? “Well, there’s Marvin,” Red said.
“Ooh!” Wanda pressed her lips together and lifted her shoulders, gleefully conspiratorial. “Marvin! Is he eighty? Because that sounds like an eighty-year-old’s name.”
“No. He’s ten.”
“I was kidding.” After another awkward pause, Wanda said, “I’m getting my degree soon.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I started business classes at Community College of Denver. I still have two semesters left, but I’ll have an associate’s degree soon. Doesn’t that sound important? Associate’s degree. I’m going to frame it, like doctors frame theirs in their offices.”
“Will you be a doctor?”
Wanda’s smile flipped over on her face. “No, silly. Doctors go to school for, like, twenty years or something.”
“Oh.”
Her mother dragged air through her nose and smiled tightly. “So, tell me about your fosters. What’s their name?”
“Celine and Jackson. Groove.”
“Groove?” Wanda giggled. “Are they groovy?”
She laughed. Red mimicked her.
“They’re pretty nice, I guess.”
“They better be.” Wanda squeezed Red’s knee.
Red’s fingers knotted and unknotted around one another in her lap. There were too many questions in her head. They kept knocking into one another, clattering against her ears, piling up on the way to her lips. Where have you been? Why did you leave? Why didn’t you tell me you were back? What happens next? When can I come home?
But the questions didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were together. That they could always be together now. Red sniffed and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “I brought something to show you.”
She got up and went to her backpack, which she’d dropped by the door on her way in. Keeping her back to her mother, she pulled out the green notebook, staring at the cover for a moment, a nervous breeze whispering down her spine. The binding had a new layer of tape holding it together since she’d thrown it against the wall. Celine had gotten her sparkly green duct tape. She glanced at Ms. Anders, who was watching her curiously. Her caseworker gave her a little smile.
“Here.” Red opened the notebook to one of Gamma’s IMPOSSIBLE pages and held it out.
Wanda stared at it blankly as she took it. “What’s this?”
“It’s—just something I’ve been working on. I thought you’d like it.”
Her mom read a few words, then turned to the next page. She looked up, eyebrows raised in question. “So … it’s for school?”
Red forced her voice to stay cheerful. “No. Gamma gave it to me. See?”
She took the notebook and flipped to the very first page.
It always seems impossible until it’s done.
—Nelson Mandela
A little smile appeared on Wanda’s face. “She said that all the time,” she said, her voice wistful. Then she laughed, but the sound was brittle. “She never stopped
believing in the impossible.” She sniffed, snapped the notebook shut, and handed it back to Red.
Red hugged it against a pang of disappointment in her chest. She had thought her mom would want to know more about it, that she’d be impressed by everything Red had written. But instead of looking happy, her mom looked upset.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Surprise flashed across her mother’s face. “Yeah, baby. I’m okay. Are you?”
Red nodded and shrugged at the same time. She could feel Ms. Anders’s eyes on her.
“Hey.” Her mother’s voice was softer, more familiar than before. “Look—I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch right away. I’ve had some things I needed to work out.”
A chilly breeze stirred against Red’s face and hair. She tried to hold it in. Outside, clouds darkened the sky. “You could have told me,” she whispered.
Wanda leaned forward in her chair. “I know.” Her dark hair brushed against her cheeks and she swept it back. “But I’m here now.”
Ms. Anders cleared her throat. “It’s three thirty.”
Wanda stood and opened her arms again. “Give me a hug.”
Red obeyed. The fabric of Wanda’s blue shirt was cool and liquid against her face.
“I miss you, Red. I’m so glad we get to see each other again.”
“Me too.” She meant it.
Wanda stepped back and lifted Red’s chin with two fingertips. She smiled her dazzling smile. “Do you still love me?” Her voice was soft, fragile.
The wings of Red’s heart opened, stretched wide. “Infinity plus one.”
Her mother’s smile sweetened. “Plus one.” She ran her fingers lightly over Red’s jaw, then turned and picked up her purse. “We’ll do this again?” she asked Ms. Anders.
The caseworker nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Great.” Wanda blew her daughter a kiss and swished out of the conference room. Red watched her golden shoes glitter until she disappeared around a bend of cubicles.
Chapter
27
There was a tornado building in Red’s rib cage. She tried to push it down, but emotions whirled and knotted around her heart, and questions whirred and tangled in her mind. Her mother was back! Why hadn’t she told her sooner? She was getting better; she was going to school. Did she want her back? She loved her, infinity plus one. Didn’t she? Didn’t she? Didn’t she?
Celine and Jackson made careful conversation from the front seat of the car, but Red didn’t hear them. The noise in her head was too loud. She sat with her feet tucked up under her and stared out the window, but her eyes didn’t see the thrashing trees or swinging power lines or whipping flags. She didn’t notice the way Jackson’s hands gripped the steering wheel, or the sudden lurch of the car as it was buffeted by wind on the highway. And it wasn’t until Celine breathed, “Look at those clouds,” that Red even noticed there were clouds.
A solid blanket of steel gray covered the sky, bulging like hundreds of enormous pieces of popcorn. The setting sun illuminated the crests silver against the darker pockets, making the whole world eerie and cold.
Another gust of wind shook the car. Jackson clicked off the radio, as he always did when he needed to concentrate on the road.
“It’s supposed to snow,” he said.
The vortex in Red sizzled and slithered between her ribs. She squeezed her arms around her middle. Did her mother want her back? How could her mom forget her name? What would happen now?
Celine gave Jackson a worried look. “Has there been any news about Tuck?”
The words lassoed Red, yanking her back into the car, into the small, warm space they all shared.
Tuck. Her whole body tensed in an effort to rein in the brewing storm. She couldn’t do that to Tuck. Not again.
Since the news that her mom was out of prison, Red had been distracted. She hadn’t even looked for him. She’d broken her promise to him.
“We have to keep looking,” Red said.
Jackson seemed surprised that she’d spoken. “We’ve searched everywhere. There’s no sign of him,” he said.
“We have to look again! Maybe he’s trying to find his way back,” Red argued.
Jackson sighed, but Celine turned to look at her. After a moment, she nodded.
“Maybe he is,” Celine said. “Tuck knows we love him. And love can do impossible things.”
Red hoped that was true. She took long, slow breaths and focused her thoughts on Tuck. Gradually her tornado began to unspool. Finding Tuck before the snowstorm rolled in became all that mattered. It pushed out the roiling hurt and disappointment and confusion, and filled her with determination.
When they got home, the three of them searched until it was too cold and dark and snowy to see. A bitter wind was blowing—a wind that wasn’t coming from Red. Still, Red tried to make it stop. She did her breathing exercises, and clenched her fists and even tried holding her breath. But she couldn’t blow the storm away.
Long after they’d all gone to bed, Red stared out her bedroom window, her face a pale reflection against the darkness. Where had Tuck gone? When could she live with her mom again? How far could a storm carry a giant tortoise? Didn’t her mom want her back?
The questions twisted and knotted within her as she watched the snow pile up in the yard.
It wasn’t fair. Tuck was out there somewhere, lost. He was alone—just like Red had been. After Gamma died. In foster care. It wasn’t his fault he was lost, just like it wasn’t Red’s fault her mom got arrested and left her behind. Her mom was supposed to come back for her. She was supposed to get out of prison and fly straight to Red and take her home. She was supposed to be there.
But she hadn’t been. She’d left Red alone in foster care.
“I won’t leave him,” Red whispered to her reflection.
She got out of bed and started pulling on layers of clothing, as many as she could fit. Three pairs of socks. Fleece-lined tights, flannel pajama pants, and a pair of jeans. Two T-shirts, a sweater, a hoodie, and her coat. Carrying her snow boots, she tiptoed downstairs, avoiding the squeaky step at the bottom. Gandalf followed her, whining softly when she ordered her to stay in the dog beds with Frodo, Brontë, and Limerick.
Red pushed her feet, fat with wool socks, into her boots, and pulled a pair of Celine’s mittens over her own. Then she wrapped two scarves around her neck and reached for the big flashlight Jackson kept by the back door. Celine’s too-big mittens brushed against it and it clattered to the floor.
She froze, listening. All four dogs were looking at her, ears perked. When the ceiling above her didn’t creak with the sound of Jackson or Celine getting out of bed, Red let out a little breath.
Steeling herself, she opened the door and stepped into the storm.
Chapter
28
The cold stole her breath. She hunched forward, clicking on the flashlight, and tucked her nose deeper into the scarves around her neck. Snowflakes prickled against her forehead, and she pulled her hood up.
The snow was as deep as her ankles in some places as she trudged across the dark yard. Instinctively, she headed toward Celine’s stargazing rock. Her legs began to burn with exhaustion. All she could see in every direction was whirling gray snow against the black. The wind shrieked and drove the flakes straight into Red’s eyes. She swept the flashlight beam back and forth, but all she could see was the writhing white.
“Tuck!” she called. “TUCK!”
Snow crunched under her boots. Her foot hit a rock buried in the snow, and she stumbled. She dragged herself upright again.
“Tuck! I’m here, Tuck!”
Her nose was running and her breath made the scarf wet against her lips and chin. She kept walking, unable to even look up at times.
“I won’t leave you alone!” Her voice cracked. “Come home, Tuck! Come back!”
The only answer was the howling wind.
She stumbled again, and her knee cracked against another rock. The flashl
ight flipped out of her hand and disappeared into a snowdrift. Pain and despair made her want to curl up and cry. But she couldn’t. Tuck needed her. She was his family, and family didn’t give up. Eyes stinging, she crawled forward and dug out the flashlight, then sat back on her heels and looked around.
Nothing looked familiar. She thought she had been going toward the stargazing rock, but she should have reached it by now. There was no sign of it, though. She twisted around, squinting into the darkness. The flashlight wasn’t much help.
“TUCK!”
Climbing to her feet, she managed to walk a little farther. Something emerged from the darkness. A gnarled shape she didn’t recognize. Coming closer, she realized it was a clump of scrub oak, twisting branches sticking out of the snow like broken bones.
Fear clawed at her. She tried to shake it off. Where was she? How far had she walked? Her body shivered and her lungs burned.
Her next footstep sank more deeply than she expected and she fell, her leg twisting painfully behind her as she slid down some kind of embankment. Branches grabbed at her clothes and gouged her face. She lay in the snow for a moment, heart hammering in her ears. Wind—her wind—blustered from her skin, shaking snow from the bushes onto her face.
She groaned and sat up, cradling her leg. Snow and sorrow swirled around her and through her, hollowing her out, crystallizing under her skin. She was too tired, too cold, too empty to move.
Maybe it was stupid to believe it was possible for her to find him by herself. Celine had said love could do impossible things, and Red loved Tuck. She loved him so much it made her heart hurt just thinking about him being lost. But what if her love wasn’t enough to bring him back?
Something knocked into her from behind, and she fell forward into the snow again. She scrambled away, twisting to see what had bumped her. A shadow emerged from the gnarled arms of the scrub oak. She almost screamed, but the sound caught in her throat.
Clack.
She gasped, squinting.
Clack.
“Tuck?”
Clack.
“TUCK!”
The enormous tortoise clacked his jaw again and took a step back into the tangled scrub oak. His black eyes glinted in the beam of her flashlight.
All the Impossible Things Page 10