Nothing But Blue (20 page)

She pours a few drops of the liquid onto the candle and lights it. The room fills with the aroma of lavender. “This will put healing energy in the air,” she says. The kettle whistles and she goes to the stove. Shadow rests his head in my lap and sighs. I stroke his nose.

“You've got a special dog there,” Eudora says, handing me a mug of peppermint tea. “He saved your life.”

I take a sip. The sweet peppermint, the lavender incense, the coziness of all her books—it relaxes me. Makes me want to close my eyes, drift into a warm, safe sleep.

But Eudora is watching. It seems like she is waiting for me to say something. So I ask, “How did you know how to fix my shoulder?”

“I was a nurse,” she says. “But I never fit into society. So I built this place. I have everything I need here. I have my books and my writings. And it's quiet.” She pats my good shoulder. “Now tell me what you're doing out here wandering around in the night with a dislocated shoulder.”

What do I say? I don't know if I have any more lies left, but then I'm not certain of the truth either. “I don't remember everything,” I finally admit, “but I'm going home. I'm almost there.”

“Do you remember your name?” she asks.

“I'm Blue,” I say. “At least, I am now.”

“Do you remember where you live?”

“On the ocean. In a yellow house with green shutters.” The second I say this I wish I hadn't.

“Are your parents waiting for you?”

“I . . . I don't know. I have to tell them I'm sorry.” I start to feel sick.

The woman tips her head and her eyebrows rise, as though she suddenly recalls something. Then she inhales quickly and her face softens. “You're . . . you're that girl, aren't you?”

“What girl?” I ask. My body tenses. My shoulder begins to throb.

“The one in the news. I read about you. You used to live on the coast, then you moved.”

How does she know this? What does she mean,
used to
? What does she mean,
moved
?

She goes on. “People are looking for you. They know you didn't die.” Her voice fades. Her mouth continues to move in the shape of words, but the sound is muffled and I can no longer hear. I close my eyes so I don't have to see her mouth. I wait for the chant to take over. I wait for the nausea. I wait for panic, but it doesn't come. Shadow noses me. I open my eyes and pet him. Then I can hear again, and she is saying something else.

“Never mind. I'm wrong. I don't know what I was thinking.” She puts her hand on my back.

I look at her. “I have to go,” I say, even though my mind is all fuzzy.

“No,” Eudora says, as though leaving on my own is not an option. “You're in no condition. You'll stay here and rest.”

I start to protest.

She holds up her hand. “I'm going to say something, Blue, and you tell me if you think it's true. This is what I think. I think something happened and it was so awful that you have shut it out. You've lost parts of your memory.” She pauses. “Does that make any sense?”

“You mean I have amnesia?” I ask. “Like I hit my head and forgot everything?”

“Could be, but there are other ways people lose memory. Sometimes it's caused by a blow to the head, or sometimes it's a traumatic event that the brain erases in order to survive. Sometimes it's all memory that is lost, sometimes just bits and pieces.”

I let this information sink in, then ask, “Will I ever remember everything?” I'm not sure I want to.

Eudora studies me carefully. “‘All truths wait in all things. They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it.'” She pauses. “Whitman, again. You can't push the mind to remember things it's not ready to remember. It'll come back when you're ready. You must not be ready yet. Do you remember what just happened—out in the woods before I came?”

“Yes,” I say. “I got a train, I almost got caught.” I start to tell her about the rail bulls chasing me, but then stop as I suddenly recall their conversation in the woods. I thought it had been my imagination, but I now hear their voices loud and clear: “A can of gasoline, a couple of matches. And poof. No more town.” It dawns on me—they are going to burn down Hobo Town!

I have to warn Dumpling and Onion, and everyone! The whole town, everything in their lives will be destroyed; they could die. I'm so close to my own home, but I can't let theirs burn down.

Eudora is still talking but I tune her out again. All I can think about is getting to Hobo Town in time. I can't up and flee. Eudora means well, but she will call someone for sure—she will try to stop me.

“Okay, I'll stay here,” I tell her.

“Good. That's good. Tomorrow your arm will be much better, you'll see. I'll drive you wherever you want to go.”

But I know that won't happen. I will sneak out as soon as I can and head backwards.

 

Finally Eudora falls asleep. I sneak out of her wonderfully warm home, full of lavender, peppermint, and poetry. Instead of heading home, I am retracing my steps. I am going in the wrong direction.

I have no choice. I remember little Cracker Jack holding up his fingers and calling himself wild boy. They can't burn his home down. They can't. I only hope I'm not too late.

Shadow leads the way back through the woods to the train tracks, and we follow them west. The bulls found me on the second stop, so Hobo Town can't be more than fifteen or twenty miles. Still, it will take me all day to get there.

I run for a bit, then slow to a fast walk. It's so much easier in the boots. I imagine the boots themselves are giving me the encouragement I need.
Go, go, go. We've got you covered.
This time I watch the ground in front of me. I won't fall.

The sun rises to its full height and gleams down on me. I hear a train whistle, and I turn into the woods well before the train passes. If the bulls catch me a second time, they'll kill Shadow for sure and probably me, too. The train whizzes by heading east. I watch until it is out of sight.

I run. I walk. I rest. I run again. I drink water. I eat some of the food Dumpling gave me. The hours go by. I stay steady. I stay focused. I can't be too late, I just can't.

 

By the time the sun has crossed to the other side of the sky and started to set, I know I am close. I recognize the spot where I hid out waiting to catch the train.

In the approaching darkness I make out the shape of a small person crouched on the track. Shadow reaches the person first. He's not growling or barking, so it must be all right.

As I get closer I see that it is a child, a boy. The boy hugs Shadow around the neck and sings, “Doggie-do, doggie-do, doggie-do” over and over.

“Cracker Jack!” I yell. When I reach him I squeeze him tight.

“Ow.” He wriggles out of my grip. It takes him a second to register me. “Yello, Boo,” he says.

“Cracker Jack.” I keep my hand on his shoulder, afraid he might disappear if I don't hold on to him. “What are you doing here? Where is everyone else?”

His eyes open wide. He looks scared. It's the look of something bad. I
am
too late. The bulls came. They burned down everything.

All dead. All dead. All dead.

I hug Cracker Jack tight. I will hold him forever if I have to. But he won't let me. He squirms away and points to himself. “Wild boy.”

“I know, I know you're a wild boy.”

“Wild boy bad.”

“No, you're not bad,” I say. “Cracker Jack? Did something bad happen? What happened?”

“Mommy mad. I broke book.” He takes some crumpled pages from his pocket. They are pages from the picture book Dumpling was reading to him.

“Where is your mommy?” I ask. “Is she here? Is she okay?”

“Mommy mad. Wild boy run away.”

“There's no fire?” I ask. “No one is dead?” Maybe I'm not too late. Maybe I can still get to them.

Cracker Jack scrunches his face. He looks confused. He repeats the word
dead.

“Do you want to go home now?” I hold out my hand. Cracker Jack puts all five of his fingers in it. I clasp them.

Shadow leads us to the stake marker with the red dot, and through the woods to Hobo Town. It is just like I left it. Nothing destroyed. Nothing burned. Nothing smoldering. No ash. No death.

We get to Onion and Dumpling's tent. Dumpling is pacing and crying. She runs to Cracker Jack the second she sees us and engulfs him in her arms. “Darling, darling. I was so worried.”

“Mommy mad,” Cracker Jack says.

“No,” Dumpling says. “Well, I
was
mad, but it doesn't mean I don't love you more than the sunshine, Cracker Jack.” She kisses the top of his head. “It's just a book. We'll tape it back together. Okay, honey? Just don't run away like that. You scared us so much.”

Onion appears and his haggard face instantly turns to joy at the sight of Cracker Jack. He kneels down and the three of them make a family huddle.

Finally they break apart. Cracker Jack's legs wrap around his mother's waist. He reaches his arms around his father's neck, so they are all still connected. Dumpling notices me standing there.

“You found him,” she says.

“He was at the tracks,” I explain.

Onion comes over and embraces me, whispering, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” over and over.

“What happened?” Dumpling asks. “We thought you'd made it onto the train for sure. We thought you'd be home by now.”

“You have to leave,” I say.

“What do you mean?” Onion asks, frowning.

I tell them about being chased by the rail bulls; about falling and thinking they'd killed Shadow, and what I'd overheard about their plan to burn down Hobo Town. “They would have killed me. It's serious. You have to leave.”

Onion mutters under his breath, “I knew it. Newbies.”

“I'm sorry,” I say. “I'm really sorry. I know if they hadn't found me, this wouldn't have happened. It's all my fault.”

Dumpling puts her hand on my shoulder. “It's not your fault, Blue. You didn't tell them. They've known we were here for eons. It was only a matter of time.” She glares at Onion. “Onion knows that, too.”

“Three years,” Onion says. “That's a long stretch. We'll have to pack up and move on again.” He gives me a wry smile, and his tone completely shifts. “We don't need half this shit we've collected in the last three years. Maybe it's a blessing to have to move.”

Cracker Jack takes my hand and makes a song out of my name. Shadow nuzzles my other hand.

“Sure you don't want to come with us, Blue? Help us settle in a new town? Start all over?” Onion asks. “You're kind of one of us. Even if you need some train-hopping training.”

I shake my head. “I have to go,” I say. “I have to go home. I just came to warn you.”

There is silence for a minute. Then Onion jumps up. “Well, then,” he says. “We've got to rouse everyone and break down camp. You best head out.”

“Where will you go?” I ask.

“Don't worry about us,” Dumpling says. “We're tinkers. We'll find things. We'll fix things. We'll make a new home. We'll carry on.”

“Bye, Boo!” Cracker Jack wraps his little arms around my leg.

Onion comes over. “Thanks for the warning.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “You're a survivor, like Snake said.”

As I walk away I hear them waking everyone up, and the town begins to rustle with movement. They will be okay.

We moved. Five hundred miles west, five hundred miles from the coast, five hundred miles from home. We got there just as it was getting dark. The house was all one level, no winding staircase with a curved banister, no creaking, loose floorboard where I could hide things, no surf, no salty breeze, no seagulls. The rooms were big and barren and carpeted. Everything was clean and slick. The movers had already arrived, and boxes were stacked everywhere. All of our stuff stuffed into cardboard.

We'd been there less than an hour and Mom was already on her computer sitting in one of the unwrapped chairs at the kitchen breakfast bar, prepping for work.

“Where's all the sheets and stuff?” I asked. “I want to go to bed.”

“I think the linen boxes are downstairs.”

I found Dad in the basement-den, on his knees fiddling with some electric wires and mumbling to himself. He raised a hand when he saw me. “Whoever built this house didn't have his head on straight. It looks like these wires go right over the gas line. In the floor, of all places. This can't be up to code.”

“This was a mistake,” I said.

He frowned. “It's all right, sweetheart. Don't worry. I'll get someone in to rewire the whole place.” He stood straight.

“No, I mean all of this. Moving. This house. I
hate
it here!” I grabbed a box labeled “Linen” and ran upstairs and shut the door on him. I wanted to hit something. Instead I just yelled. “I will
never
forgive you for making me move here. I want to go home!”

Dad followed me into the kitchen, where Mom looked up from her laptop. She gave him a warning glance, as if it was his responsibility to keep me quiet.

“You can't go back,” my dad said.

“Why not?” I asked.

Mom sighed. “Please don't have a fit. We live here now. You only have one year of high school left. Then you'll be going to college.”

“What if I don't want to go to college?” My voice rose.

Now both my parents sighed.

“Of course you're going to go to college,” my mother said.

“Well, what if I don't get in? Did you ever think of that? What if you have to admit you have a stupid daughter?” It was true, my grades weren't more than average and my extracurricular activities were pathetic, to say the least.