awake. And she felt other things too. Happy to be on the way to New Orleans. Proud of Marco. Lonely for her papa. Itchy to do something with her fingers.
And then out of the blue, she said, “Jacks!” and took her hands off the steering wheel for half a second—no worry of falling asleep—and snapped her fingers.
All of a sudden she had a vision of her
abuelo
playing jacks with her great-uncles in front of his house—she hadn’tthought of that since she was a little girl—and she wished her papa were alive. Why hadn’t they ever played? It was a family game that he’d liked, but she could have used her hands instead of her feet. It wasn’t something Papa had thought was silly, like art.
Margarita would play jacks with Marco, then. In honor of Papa. She’d buy a bag of jacks and a few rubber balls, maybe rainbow-colored balls—
rojo, anaranjado, amarillo, verde, azul, púrpura
—and teach Marco how to play when she got home.
chapter 17
ZAVION
“I think I might have kneaded the bread too much,” said Zavion.
Night was hard.
He didn’t sleep much, and when he did, he had the same nightmare.
And that made the next morning hard too.
“I don’t know what went wrong. I kneaded forty-five times—” He winced as he pulled on the bread. “It’s too tough. I’m sorry—”
“No apologies, Zavion, honey,” said Ms. Cyn. “It’s bread. It’s flexible.” She chuckled. “It stretches just fine.” She pulled on a corner of the dough and let go. It snapped back.
“But it’s better to knead less than knead more. I have to remember that—”
“It’s all a process, Zavion. You’re a good learner.”
Zavion did have to admit that even though he could do better,he was getting the hang of this bread-making thing. It was only his second day on the job and he had made the bread by himself. It was his job now. He was putting the two loaves on the paddle when the kitchen door opened and three men—the clowns—tumbled in.
“Do they always travel together?” said Zavion.
“Yes, they seem to,” said Ms. Cyn.
“Yup, we do,” said Enzo.
“We’ve all got plenty of biceps—” said Tavius, flexing his arms.
“—but not enough brains,” said Skeet.
“A third each,” said Tavius. He flicked Skeet and Enzo on their foreheads. “One, two”—he tapped himself—“three.”
“Together we have a fighting chance,” said Skeet.
“Sometimes I’m not so sure about that,” said Ms. Cyn, pouring cups of coffee. “Where were you?”
“The question is—” said Enzo.
“—where are
you
?” said Tavius.
“Or
who
are you?” said Skeet. “My mother-in-law would never set even one tiny baby toe in the kitchen—” Ms. Cyn swatted Skeet with a dish towel. “Just kidding. Sort of. But not really.” She spun the towel and swatted him again. “Oooooh-wheeee! All right! We went to Diana’s house.”
“The bird lady?” said Ms. Cyn.
“Yup. Birds everywhere,” said Enzo.
“And a vet is staying at her house too,” said Tavius. “She said they’ve rescued more than one hundred birds already.”
“Diana said she gets twenty calls a day from families who had to evacuate and leave their birds behind,” said Skeet.
“Why were you visiting Diana?” Ms. Cyn settled herself at the kitchen table and picked up her scarf and knitting needles.
“We wanted to see if we could help,” said Tavius.
“Go back into New Orleans with her,” said Enzo.
“Maybe catch some birds,” said Skeet.
“And…,” said Ms. Cyn.
“She said we’d just be in the way,” said Skeet.
“Us!” said Enzo.
“Can you believe it?” said Tavius.
“Do you want me to even answer that?” Ms. Cyn looked up from her knitting and grinned. Zavion stared at her long trail of orange scarf. “You three clowns in the way?” It was enormous now. He wondered how big the person who was getting the scarf was. Maybe it was for Enzo, Skeet, and Tavius all at once!
“You can never have too much of us!”
And then out of the blue, she said, “Jacks!” and took her hands off the steering wheel for half a second—no worry of falling asleep—and snapped her fingers.
All of a sudden she had a vision of her
abuelo
playing jacks with her great-uncles in front of his house—she hadn’tthought of that since she was a little girl—and she wished her papa were alive. Why hadn’t they ever played? It was a family game that he’d liked, but she could have used her hands instead of her feet. It wasn’t something Papa had thought was silly, like art.
Margarita would play jacks with Marco, then. In honor of Papa. She’d buy a bag of jacks and a few rubber balls, maybe rainbow-colored balls—
rojo, anaranjado, amarillo, verde, azul, púrpura
—and teach Marco how to play when she got home.
chapter 17
ZAVION
“I think I might have kneaded the bread too much,” said Zavion.
Night was hard.
He didn’t sleep much, and when he did, he had the same nightmare.
And that made the next morning hard too.
“I don’t know what went wrong. I kneaded forty-five times—” He winced as he pulled on the bread. “It’s too tough. I’m sorry—”
“No apologies, Zavion, honey,” said Ms. Cyn. “It’s bread. It’s flexible.” She chuckled. “It stretches just fine.” She pulled on a corner of the dough and let go. It snapped back.
“But it’s better to knead less than knead more. I have to remember that—”
“It’s all a process, Zavion. You’re a good learner.”
Zavion did have to admit that even though he could do better,he was getting the hang of this bread-making thing. It was only his second day on the job and he had made the bread by himself. It was his job now. He was putting the two loaves on the paddle when the kitchen door opened and three men—the clowns—tumbled in.
“Do they always travel together?” said Zavion.
“Yes, they seem to,” said Ms. Cyn.
“Yup, we do,” said Enzo.
“We’ve all got plenty of biceps—” said Tavius, flexing his arms.
“—but not enough brains,” said Skeet.
“A third each,” said Tavius. He flicked Skeet and Enzo on their foreheads. “One, two”—he tapped himself—“three.”
“Together we have a fighting chance,” said Skeet.
“Sometimes I’m not so sure about that,” said Ms. Cyn, pouring cups of coffee. “Where were you?”
“The question is—” said Enzo.
“—where are
you
?” said Tavius.
“Or
who
are you?” said Skeet. “My mother-in-law would never set even one tiny baby toe in the kitchen—” Ms. Cyn swatted Skeet with a dish towel. “Just kidding. Sort of. But not really.” She spun the towel and swatted him again. “Oooooh-wheeee! All right! We went to Diana’s house.”
“The bird lady?” said Ms. Cyn.
“Yup. Birds everywhere,” said Enzo.
“And a vet is staying at her house too,” said Tavius. “She said they’ve rescued more than one hundred birds already.”
“Diana said she gets twenty calls a day from families who had to evacuate and leave their birds behind,” said Skeet.
“Why were you visiting Diana?” Ms. Cyn settled herself at the kitchen table and picked up her scarf and knitting needles.
“We wanted to see if we could help,” said Tavius.
“Go back into New Orleans with her,” said Enzo.
“Maybe catch some birds,” said Skeet.
“And…,” said Ms. Cyn.
“She said we’d just be in the way,” said Skeet.
“Us!” said Enzo.
“Can you believe it?” said Tavius.
“Do you want me to even answer that?” Ms. Cyn looked up from her knitting and grinned. Zavion stared at her long trail of orange scarf. “You three clowns in the way?” It was enormous now. He wondered how big the person who was getting the scarf was. Maybe it was for Enzo, Skeet, and Tavius all at once!
“You can never have too much of us!”
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