All the Impossible Things

by Lindsay Lackey

  He waved a hand. “The whole point of making a film is to tell a story. You want your audience to experience eeemoootion.” As he spoke, he uncapped a green marker and wrote EMOTION. “Emotion is what motivates a response.”

  Red rolled her eyes. “That film class is getting to you. You sound like a teacher.”

  He beamed. “Thanks!”

  “Maybe we can do something like your Kitchen Kahuna videos?”

  Marvin put his fists on his hips and paced. “Kitchen Kahuna is awesome,” he said. “But I don’t think that format is right for you. You need something with a narrative.” He wrote NARRATIVE on the board under EMOTION. “It’s kind of like a journey. Every good story starts in one place and ends somewhere else.”

  Picking at a loose thread on Marvin’s comforter, Red stared at the whiteboard, her face screwed up in thought. He waited, bouncing up and down on his toes.

  “I guess…” She paused. “I guess I want to tell the judge how good my mom is doing compared to before?”

  Marvin thought for a moment, his fingers tapping his chin. Then he shook his head. “I think you need to show, not tell. That way the judge feels something.” He grabbed his laptop and sat down on the bed next to her. “Have you ever seen those videos of, like, puppies that are really sad or sick, and by the end of the video they’re cute and happy and ready for their fur-ever homes?”

  “I guess.”

  “And when you see the happy puppy, you feel happy, right?”

  She shrugged.

  His eyebrows arched up into the middle of his forehead. “Why? Why are you happy for the puppy?”

  “Because it’s happy?”

  “No. Watch.” He clicked a video.

  They watched as rescuers pulled tiny, shivering dogs out of a well. The camera rotated around the puppies as they sat, wide-eyed on a towel in a car. They were skinny, and so covered in mud and sores that it was hard to tell what color they were. As the video went on, they were treated by a vet and got big bowls of food. Red smiled when they were shown slipping and sliding around on a wood floor, tugging on toys and tumbling on a dog bed. The video was only about a minute long, but by the end, the skinny, half-drowned puppies had grown into healthy, romping dogs.

  “See?” Marvin said when it was over.

  “I guess,” she said again, thinking. “By the end, I’m happy for the puppies because I see how much better it is for them now.”

  “Right!” Marvin closed the laptop, smiling. “You saw the journey. You remember how sad they were, and that makes you feel happy about where they are now. And it makes you want to give money to the organization that goes around saving puppies from wells, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So we gotta show the judge your journey. We have to show them how sad you are without your mom, and how much better it is with her.”

  “Okay. That makes sense.”

  He stood and returned the laptop to his desk, then picked up another dry-erase marker. “Let’s brainstorm.”

  For the next hour, they listed different ideas for Red’s story. Most of Marvin’s had something to do with Star Wars, which Red rejected. But none of her ideas felt right, either.

  “You could do a montage of pictures, maybe,” Marvin said. “Show some of you when you were a baby? When your mom wasn’t sick?”

  Red shook her head. “I don’t really have any pictures.”

  “None?”

  She tossed the pineapple pillow into the air and caught it again. “Foster kids don’t really get to take that stuff with them. Especially when the cops take you away in the middle of the night.”

  “That happened to you?”

  She hugged the pillow and shrugged, feeling awkward all of a sudden. “It’s not a big deal.”

  He stared at her for a second, then became preoccupied with the marker in his hands. “I don’t know. I’d be scared if that happened to me.”

  Something squirmy wrapped itself around her heart. She had been scared. Really scared.

  “Yeah,” she said, her voice quiet.

  Marvin turned back to the whiteboard and drew a line through the photographs idea. “Okay. Well, you could tell stories about your mom. About good things she’s done.”

  Red considered this. “I guess I could talk about the time she took me swimming.”

  Marvin nodded for her to go on.

  “I was six, I think. It was a really hot summer, and Gamma didn’t have air-conditioning. One day, Mom said she wasn’t going to sit around and melt like a Popsicle! So we walked down the street to a hotel that had a pool.

  “The gate was locked, so Mom climbed up on this big planter thing. She got all scratched up by the tree that was in it. But she hopped the fence and let me in, and we swam all day. She even taught me how to dive to the bottom of the deep end.”

  Marvin looked impressed. “That’s cool! I don’t think my mom would ever climb a hotel fence. She’d probably say it’s against the rules.”

  Red frowned. “Really?” She hadn’t thought about that. What if it was against the rules? Telling a judge that her mom had broken the law probably wasn’t the best idea. “Maybe it’s not that great a story.”

  Marvin sighed. “Coming up with good ideas is hard.”

  “Really hard,” she agreed, tossing the pineapple again.

  His dimples appeared and he threw his arms up in exaggerated defeat. “It’s impossible!”

  Red froze, eyes wide. Marvin made a face.

  “What?” he asked.

  An excited ripple of air bubbled up inside of her, pushing the pineapple pillow out of her hands.

  She grinned. “I have an idea!”

  Chapter

  47

  “What are you working on?” Celine asked, pulling out a chair across the table from Red.

  Red finished writing her sentence in the notebook. “Something for my mom.”

  For the last two days, Red had spent every spare minute looking up information that would prove all the impossible things she and Gamma hadn’t been able to finish. Ever since talking to Celine about the notebook, Red had been trying to add things to it. But now she wanted to finish it as soon as possible. Marvin had said they could make the movie like a documentary, showing that all kinds of impossible things came true when people believed and worked hard enough.

  “It’ll be so inspiring,” he’d said. “We can use really good music in the background, too. Maybe the Star Wars theme song! That always gets people.”

  For the end, Red planned to show her mom the finished notebook, and Marvin would film Wanda’s reaction. Red would remind her that there was a difference between hard and impossible, and Red knew her mom would say how she believed that nothing was impossible now. Then she and Red would hug and cry. Marvin said everyone who watched it would definitely cry. Probably the judge would cry, too.

  It was going to be perfect.

  A brisk, excited breeze ruffled her hair and shivered down her spine. The notebook’s pages flapped and the cover lifted, but Red pressed her palm against it.

  Celine lifted an eyebrow. “What’s on your mind, kiddo?”

  While Celine and Jackson were in Texas, they had video-called Red at the Kapules’ every day. They even sent her a spin-eo of Celine’s hospital room, much to Marvin’s delight. Red had gotten to see Celine’s doctor, who promised her he’d be taking good care of Celine, should she choose to do her treatment there. Though the trip was a serious one, it seemed to have gone well. Both Celine and Jackson had been in better spirits since they’d gotten home.

  Red took a breath. She hoped what she was about to say wasn’t going to make Celine sad again. “I—I want to make a video. To tell the judge why I should live with my mom again.”

  Celine folded her hands on the table and cleared her throat. “Okay.”

  Red hurried on. “It’s not that I don’t like living with you and Jackson! I do! It’s just…” She paused and lifted a shoulder.

  Celine brushed the back of Red
’s hand with her fingers. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. She’s your mom, and you love her. I know that. And I know that wanting to be with her doesn’t mean you don’t love us.”

  Red nodded and shrugged at the same time.

  “What can I do to help?” Celine asked.

  Red opened the notebook and slid it toward Celine. “I want to talk about impossible things in the video. I want to say that there’s a difference between hard and impossible, and that maybe it has been hard for my mom, but it isn’t impossible for her to take care of me.”

  Celine nodded, but there was something in her expression that Red couldn’t quite identify. “I think that’s a really good idea.”

  “Thanks. Can you think of something for this one?” Red took the notebook, turning to a page near the back.

  Celine read Gamma’s writing. “Impossible: seeing something invisible.” She sat back, her lips pressed together in thought. After a moment, she stood up. “I might have an idea.”

  Red followed her out of the kitchen and into the library. Celine browsed one of the bookshelves, standing on her tiptoes to pull a book off the top shelf.

  “This might be a little hard to read, but I can help you find the right part,” she said, handing it to Red.

  Red turned the book over in her hands. It was a book about stars, and had a bunch of glossy pictures.

  “You could talk about how sometimes the stars are invisible.”

  “Like when it’s cloudy?”

  “Actually, I was thinking that they’re invisible during the day. The stars are always there, always watching over us.” Celine waved a hand toward the sky. “We just can’t see them when it’s light. When darkness closes in, though, the stars shine brightest.”

  Red felt a familiar tickle on her skin. “It’s perfect. Thanks!”

  Celine tucked a piece of Red’s hair behind her ear. “You’re welcome. Are you going to show the notebook to your mom?”

  Red thumbed the pages of the book and nodded. “Marvin is going to film it when I do.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. We’re gonna put her reaction in my video for the judge.”

  A shadow crossed Celine’s face, but she said, “Well, you should be very proud, Red.”

  The two of them went back into the kitchen. Celine made a cup of tea as Red looked through the star book. There were a ton of amazing pictures, but also a lot of big words. She’d definitely need to google them. Setting the book aside, Red watched Celine pour hot water into a mug.

  “Hey,” Red said suddenly. “You don’t rub your neck anymore. You used to, a lot.”

  “You’re right. The pain isn’t there anymore.” Celine pressed her fingers into the curve of her neck and shoulder, like she was checking to make sure it was true. “My doctor said it was something called referred pain. I thought my neck hurt, but really, it was my sick gallbladder.”

  “That’s kind of weird.”

  Celine laughed. “Yeah, I guess so. Pain is funny that way. Sometimes it tricks us into thinking one thing is wrong, when really it’s something else.”

  Red frowned. “What if pain never goes away?” she asked.

  Her foster mother shook her head. “It doesn’t always. There are a lot of people who feel pain every day. It takes a lot of courage to face pain like that. But courage can reveal beauty.”

  “Gamma was in pain for a long time,” Red said, her voice wobbly. “And then she died. It wasn’t beautiful.”

  Celine’s face reflected Red’s sadness. “I’m sorry you had to watch your grandma suffer so much. I bet she was glad you were with her, though. You took care of her. You made her feel loved.”

  Red picked at the edges of the notebook. “I danced for her,” she said. The memory came sparking to mind, like a candle that wasn’t quite blown out. “Gamma used to do this thing where she’d try to dance things into life if they were broken. She said the world always showed love by dancing. Like how trees move or birds fly together in huge flocks. She said if something was broken, she wanted to show it as much love as she could, so she’d dance.”

  Celine smiled. “Now I know I would have liked your gamma.”

  Red nodded. “I mostly danced when she was sleeping. But once she woke up and saw me. When I looked at her, she was watching me and crying.” Her voice broke and she frowned. “So I guess that wasn’t good, actually.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” Celine said, coming toward her. “It was. It was wonderful. Your grandmother saw you dancing, and she knew how much you loved her.”

  “But she was crying.”

  Celine considered her next words. “Sometimes crying isn’t sad,” she said. “Sometimes it’s how we respond to something we think is beautiful.”

  “There’s my girls!” Jackson’s voice boomed as he came in through the back door. Snow swirled around him. He took off his I Like Big Mutts baseball hat. “Red, you’ll never believe what I just saw in the barn.”

  Red raised her eyebrows. “What?”

  “A possum.”

  Celine laughed. “A possum? Really?”

  Jackson nodded, grinning. “Yup! It was huge.” He held his palms about eighteen inches apart. “And it hissed at me! Red, I bet you anything it’s what you saw and thought was a rat. Especially if you’ve never seen one before.”

  Celine made a face. “Did you get rid of it?”

  “I’ll have to get a trap so I can relocate him. Or her. I need to search the barn to make sure there aren’t babies hiding somewhere.”

  He planted a kiss on Celine’s cheek and tugged lightly on Red’s hair. He smelled like animals and sweat and cut wood. “What are you two doing?”

  “Just talking,” Celine said.

  “Did you tell Red your good news?” he asked.

  Red looked at Celine. “Good news?”

  Celine lowered herself into a chair, her hands wrapped around her tea mug. “Well, the doctor in Texas called today. They’ve scheduled my surgery.”

  Red looked between their faces, suddenly uneasy.

  Celine’s expression was guarded. “It’s at the end of February. In Houston.”

  Chapter

  48

  Jackson came downstairs, the dogs trailing him, and knocked on the doorframe of the library. Red was at the computer. She’d been working on the impossible notebook, but had gotten distracted trying to figure out if foster kids were allowed to go with their foster family to another state if their foster parent was having surgery there.

  There wasn’t an easy answer. Especially since Celine said she’d be in the Texas hospital for at least six weeks.

  “Hey, kiddo. I’m going to take you to meet your mom today. Celine isn’t feeling well.”

  It was early February, and today was Red’s third unsupervised visit with her mom. Last time, they’d gone to a skating rink that was set up in downtown Denver, and discovered that neither of them was very good at ice skating. After bruising their tailbones a few too many times, they’d gotten coffee and walked around the 16th Street Mall. Red had wanted cocoa, but her mom convinced her to get a mocha instead, saying it was more grown-up. She didn’t like how bitter the coffee tasted, though, and eventually threw it out.

  As Red and Jackson waited now for Wanda to arrive at the Park-n-Ride, Jackson asked, “Is the plan still to see a movie?”

  “I think so.” Red looked at the clock. Her mom was late. Again.

  “How’s your movie coming?” he asked.

  Red shifted in her seat. Her stomach had been hurting all morning. “Okay. I’m almost done finding impossible things, and we’ve filmed a few scenes already. I’m gonna ask Mom if our next visit can be somewhere Marvin can come and film.”

  “Does she know about the video?”

  “Kind of. I told her I was working on something for the judge. I’ll tell her more today.”

  Jackson seemed lost in thought for a moment, then looked like he wanted to speak, but Wanda’s car zipped into the parking lot. The two of them
climbed out of Jackson’s truck and waved. A sudden, biting wind stung Red’s face, and she jammed her hands deep into her coat pockets.

  “Hey there,” Jackson said, bending at the waist to look into Wanda’s car window.

  Wanda barely smiled. She was always uncomfortable around Jackson. The wind tangled her hair around her face. “Hi.”

  Red climbed into the passenger side. She had to push a few fast-food wrappers and some mail onto the floor before she could sit down.

  “Still planning to go to a movie at the mall?” Jackson asked.

  Wanda barely looked at him. “Mm-hmm.”

  Jackson angled his head, trying to catch Wanda’s eye. “No other stops?”

  Wanda sighed. “I know the rules. She’s my kid, okay?”

  Jackson held up a hand. “I’m just making sure we’re on the same page,” he said. “I have my cell if you need me.” He bent lower so he could see Red. “Have a nice time, kiddo.”

  He knocked on the top of the car before turning away.

  They were barely out of the parking lot when Wanda’s phone twanged. A twirly discomfort stirred in Red.

  Wanda glanced at the screen, then answered. “Hey. What’s up?” She listened, rolled her eyes, then giggled and glanced at Red. “I’m with my kid right now.”

  A pause.

  “No…” Another giggle. “No!”

  A longer pause. Wanda sighed. “Adam…”

  Who was Adam? Red eyed her mother, the splotches of color in her cheeks, her low, whispery laugh. Suspicion sank its needle-sharp teeth into her brain.

  “I said I’m with my kid.” But Wanda’s tone was warmer, less insistent. She glanced at Red questioningly. Adam said something and she laughed again. The question on her face evaporated. “Okay … yes, okay. Yeah, I’ll meet you. But fast, okay? We have plans. I’ll just stop by your place.” Another giggle. “Right. Okay. Bye.”

  She dropped the phone into the cup holder and it clattered against used stir sticks and coins and tubes of lip gloss.

  “We’re not going to a movie?” Red asked.

  Wanda rolled her eyes. “Don’t have a cow. I just have to make a stop.”