A blue sky.
A long white string.
Little hands.
Zavions hands.
Big hands.
Mamas hands.
A gorgeous fall day, just the right amount of wind, not too hot and not too cold. Zavion and Mama in Pontchartrain Park, flying the brand-new kite he got for his birthday. He begged to fly it alone and immediately snagged it on a branch and ripped it.
"Im sorry, Mama," he whispered. "Im sorry, Im sorry, Im sorry-" He said it over and over again until Mamas arms had opened wide.
"It was a kite," she said. "And you were you. Now it is a torn kite"-she put her hands on Zavions cheeks-"and you are still you." She hugged him so hard they fell over, laughing. They lay on their backs and watched the kite dance against the clouds.
It wasnt the first time she told him about Grandmother Mountain, but it was the time he remembered.
"Grandmother Mountain was only a small pile of rocks and some dirt and a few red spruce trees at first," Mama said, waving her hand slowly from side to side as she guided the kite in the air. "Every time she stopped wandering, she grew. In the valley, she found more dirt. By the river, she found more rocks. By the time she came upon Grandfather Mountain, she was a grand mountain. But she still found something when she put down her roots to be near him." Mama squeezed Zavions arm with her free hand. "Just like I did with your papa. I wandered into New Orleans, all grown up like a mountain, but I found the one last thing I was missing-someone to be connected to"-she stood up, reaching out her hand to Zavion-"and then I found you-someone to love more than anything in the whole entire world...."
- Zavion squeezed the marble for luck, for luck and to quell the fear that was uncurled and loose and roaming through his body.
Zavion had to find Luna Market.
He began to run.
chapter 34.
HENRY.
Henry ran and ran and ran-
chapter 35.
ZAVION.
Zavion ran and ran and ran-
chapter 36.
HENRY.
A boy turned onto the block. Henry caught him out of the corner of his eye. He had long legs, and a backpack bounced against his shoulder. The boy caught up to Henry. They ran side by side for ten strides or so- Henry was back on the mountain- Racing Wayne- The boy sprinted ahead.
The boy tried to jump over a tree that had fallen across the sidewalk.
His jeans got caught on a branch and he pitched forward, falling on his hands.
Henry watched him wrench himself free and keep on running.
He looked like he was running for his life.
chapter 37.
ZAVION.
Zavion saw the concrete sidewalk.
It looked like the moon close up.
Small craters and drifts of gray-brown mud.
He smelled it too.
He had to. It was half an inch from his nose.
Musty, old water.
He scrambled to his feet and kept running. A stride and a burn in his lungs and thighs that he knew so well.
At the next corner he looked up.
Ca.n.a.l Street and Camp Street.
He was getting close to Luna Market.
As he crossed the intersection, he had the strange feeling he was being followed.
Was it fear, uncurling its long, cold body, following him down the street?
He looked back over his shoulder.
A boy was running behind him.
He looked like he was running for his life.
chapter 38.
HENRY.
Henry ran until his legs gave out. He didnt know if Jake and Cora were following him, but his calves cramped up and he couldnt run another inch. He leaned over his knees, breathing in gulps like he was drinking water from the river. He walked like that, bent over, down a short walkway to a house and sat, without ever straightening up, on its porch step.
Henry leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the sky. It matched the ground, the houses, the street, the few trees, and, mostly, the garbage.
Gray.
All of it was gray.
And flat.
Henry heard a rumbling sound. He sat up and looked down the street. Three boys were skateboarding. The boy in the front-a short kid wearing a black t-shirt and black jeans-jumped onto the sidewalk and skated toward the fallen tree. Henry watched him bend his knees, grab the front of his board, and jump the tree. The other two followed him. Then they skated back onto the street, picked up speed, and were gone.
Did they race on their skateboards? Did they have a fourth friend? Where was he?
Henry wondered what their story was.
chapter 39.
ZAVION.
Help- A thousand voices calling for help flooded through Zavion.
He couldnt tell if the sounds were coming from inside him or out on the street. He stopped running, stopped walking, and then stood still.
Help- He looked around but didnt see anyone on the street.
Fear was back. He knew it had been waiting for him, curled up in a tight ball. Zavion couldnt tell if it had been hiding in the rubble of New Orleans, camouflaged in mud and trash, or if it had been lodged in his own body, tucked small and hard at the corner of his lower rib.
But it was back. Long and cold. It stretched from Zavion, to the stop sign on the corner, and wound around back to his body.
Zavion stared at the gray street. At the gray neighborhood. He listened to the silence, now that his heart had stopped blasting. Please let there be some sound, he thought. Please let there be some movement. But there was nothing. Only the fierce sun pushing down on a city ripped open, top to bottom, organs and veins and muscles torn away, with its bones exposed to the harsh light.
And what did that make Zavion? A lone cell, flung far, gasping for breath, lost, lost, lost.
Fear was definitely back.