said Skeet. He reached into the bowl at the center of the table and pulled out three apples. He tossed one to Tavius and one to Enzo. “Right, boys?”
They circled Ms. Cyn and tossed the apples to one another over her head.
“Hey, now—” she protested.
“Hush, Ms. Cyn,” said Skeet. “We got it—”
“—together—” said Tavius.
“—oooh, baby, do we ever,” finished Enzo. And as if on cue, they all spun in a circle and bit down on their apples at the same time.
Zavion couldn’t help smiling.
The clowns bowed. “Thank you, thank you,” said Skeet.
“Tip jar is by the door on your way out,” said Enzo.
“Don’t you let these fools steal your money, Zavion, honey,” said Ms. Cyn. She clucked her tongue and shook her head as she bent over her knitting again.
Steal
.
The word punctured the corners of Zavion’s upturned mouth like a pin.
The chocolate bars bounced around in his head like those apples. He should pay back what he owed Luna Market. He knew where it was.
But how?
Mama’s story came to him then. Or his question. The question he asked every time she told him the story. She’d be at the edge of his bed, pulling the blanket to his chin. He’d sit up fast, the blanket falling, his nose an inch away from her nose.
“How?” he’d demand. “How does a mountain travel from one place to another? How is that possible?”
“Zavion, honey—”
Zavion’s head snapped up. He opened his eyes. He hadn’t even known they were closed. Had he been talking out loud? Enzo, Skeet, and Tavius sat on the counters around the kitchen and Ms. Cyn still sat at the table, her knitting needles
click-clack
ing, her eyes shining again.
“Are you okay?” she said.
I will never be okay
, thought Zavion.
“Are you kidding?” said Enzo. “No one in this house is okay.”
“Especially you,” said Tavius, slapping Enzo on the back.
“Yeah, you never were,” said Skeet.
They laughed, and Zavion appreciated the shift of focus.
How would anything ever be okay again?
How could he pay back the market?
He didn’t know, but he knew he had to figure it out. If he could just pay back the money for the chocolate bars, maybe he could make this whole hurricane mess go away.
The sound of laughter interrupted Zavion’s thoughts. Ms. Cyn’s head was thrown back as she laughed, her laughter like bread dough, like a mountain, rising into the air.
chapter 18
HENRY
Henry sat at the top of the driveway and threw a rubber ball for Brae, who raced down the hill chasing it. How could Mom have done that? How could he have let it happen? How could the marble be gone?
Before that night on the mountain, Henry and Wayne had rules for exchanging the marble. They weren’t official or anything. They weren’t written down and hung up in their bedrooms. But they were rules that they just
knew
, and they seemed to work.
The marble worked.
Henry’s football team rarely lost a game, and when they did it was because of Nopie and his stupid butterfingers. Apple pie fingers. And Wayne’s soccer and baseball teams never lost. There was something about accepting the marble, and then holding it, feeling its smooth circle go round and round and round that inspired a sense of invincibility in Henry. He didn’teven have to think about feeling invincible. It wasn’t a thought. It just
was
. It was hope and bravery and confidence all rolled together just like he rolled the marble in his hand.
It was true that he found the marble the day he and Mom moved into their house. After he had picked his room, he found it on the windowsill. And it was also true that he met Wayne that same afternoon. Everyone knew those parts of the story. What they didn’t know was the first part. The part about Henry getting up early in the morning, that morning he and Mom moved, and Henry feeling so heavy with sadness that he laid himself down in the driveway in front of the car and wouldn’t get up. Not for breakfast, his last
They circled Ms. Cyn and tossed the apples to one another over her head.
“Hey, now—” she protested.
“Hush, Ms. Cyn,” said Skeet. “We got it—”
“—together—” said Tavius.
“—oooh, baby, do we ever,” finished Enzo. And as if on cue, they all spun in a circle and bit down on their apples at the same time.
Zavion couldn’t help smiling.
The clowns bowed. “Thank you, thank you,” said Skeet.
“Tip jar is by the door on your way out,” said Enzo.
“Don’t you let these fools steal your money, Zavion, honey,” said Ms. Cyn. She clucked her tongue and shook her head as she bent over her knitting again.
Steal
.
The word punctured the corners of Zavion’s upturned mouth like a pin.
The chocolate bars bounced around in his head like those apples. He should pay back what he owed Luna Market. He knew where it was.
But how?
Mama’s story came to him then. Or his question. The question he asked every time she told him the story. She’d be at the edge of his bed, pulling the blanket to his chin. He’d sit up fast, the blanket falling, his nose an inch away from her nose.
“How?” he’d demand. “How does a mountain travel from one place to another? How is that possible?”
“Zavion, honey—”
Zavion’s head snapped up. He opened his eyes. He hadn’t even known they were closed. Had he been talking out loud? Enzo, Skeet, and Tavius sat on the counters around the kitchen and Ms. Cyn still sat at the table, her knitting needles
click-clack
ing, her eyes shining again.
“Are you okay?” she said.
I will never be okay
, thought Zavion.
“Are you kidding?” said Enzo. “No one in this house is okay.”
“Especially you,” said Tavius, slapping Enzo on the back.
“Yeah, you never were,” said Skeet.
They laughed, and Zavion appreciated the shift of focus.
How would anything ever be okay again?
How could he pay back the market?
He didn’t know, but he knew he had to figure it out. If he could just pay back the money for the chocolate bars, maybe he could make this whole hurricane mess go away.
The sound of laughter interrupted Zavion’s thoughts. Ms. Cyn’s head was thrown back as she laughed, her laughter like bread dough, like a mountain, rising into the air.
chapter 18
HENRY
Henry sat at the top of the driveway and threw a rubber ball for Brae, who raced down the hill chasing it. How could Mom have done that? How could he have let it happen? How could the marble be gone?
Before that night on the mountain, Henry and Wayne had rules for exchanging the marble. They weren’t official or anything. They weren’t written down and hung up in their bedrooms. But they were rules that they just
knew
, and they seemed to work.
The marble worked.
Henry’s football team rarely lost a game, and when they did it was because of Nopie and his stupid butterfingers. Apple pie fingers. And Wayne’s soccer and baseball teams never lost. There was something about accepting the marble, and then holding it, feeling its smooth circle go round and round and round that inspired a sense of invincibility in Henry. He didn’teven have to think about feeling invincible. It wasn’t a thought. It just
was
. It was hope and bravery and confidence all rolled together just like he rolled the marble in his hand.
It was true that he found the marble the day he and Mom moved into their house. After he had picked his room, he found it on the windowsill. And it was also true that he met Wayne that same afternoon. Everyone knew those parts of the story. What they didn’t know was the first part. The part about Henry getting up early in the morning, that morning he and Mom moved, and Henry feeling so heavy with sadness that he laid himself down in the driveway in front of the car and wouldn’t get up. Not for breakfast, his last
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