The Brilliant Fall of Gianna Z. (17 page)

In your dreams, Barbie. That’s what I should have said, but of course I just stood there. I ought to run after her now that the voice in my head has something good to say.

I’m about to take off when I hear another voice in my head. Zig’s.

If you just finish the project, she goes away.

That’s what I need to do. And I can.

“Coach?”

“Yeah?” She looks a little nervous about talking to me again, like I might lose it. I surprise her when I smile and say, “Thanks for taking care of my backup, but you’re not going to need her. I promise. What was my best time for the four-mile loop last week?”

“Twenty-seven minutes, ten seconds. Why?”

“I just feel like pushing it today.” And I take off for the run that has to fuel me through a full night of leaf identification.

The sun plays hide-and-seek, coming and going, lighting the trees, then flickering off. My feet crunch over the gravel to the end of the track, pound the new blacktop of Bridge Street, which still smells like tar. They crackle over dry leaves when I turn onto the dirt path along the river back to school. The leaves are under my feet where they belong— not cluttering up my head—and it’s the best run I’ve had all week.

Twenty-five minutes and forty-five seconds after I started, I slow to a jog back at school and hand over my stopwatch.

“Not bad.” Coach grins at me.

“Not bad?”

“Okay, in all honesty, it’s the best of the day by a good forty-five seconds. You’re still our ringer if you’re eligible for sectionals.”

“I’ll be eligible.”

I turn for the locker room just as Bianca comes jogging back onto the track. She stops to fix her hair before she stretches, leaning in to try and hear the end of our conversation.

I make it easy on her.

“No problem, Coach,” I say, loud and clear. “I’ll finish that leaf project if I have to stay up all night.”

CHAPTER 20

Z
ig waits for me after chess club. He gives me a pep talk as we walk home.

“You can do this.”

I nod. “I’m not looking forward to it, but I’m ready.”

“You can do it.”

I nod.

“You already have all your leaves.”

I nod.

“Look—a black walnut tree!” He points.

I turn. I’ve seen this particular black walnut before. As a matter of fact, I’ve vandalized it. Even if it was unintentionally. I shake my head.

“That’s Mr. Randolph’s house, and there’s a fence.” I point.

“Gotcha,” Zig says. “Only a real dummy would hop his fence just for a few leaves.”

I nod. I have the book in my backpack to prove it.

“Gianna!” My mother is standing on the front porch in her socks, squinting up the street, like she’s looking for something behind us. I turn around, but no one’s there.

“Have you seen Nonna?” she asks. The wrinkles at the outside corners of her eyes look deeper than usual.

“We’re just getting home, Mom. No.”

Mom squints past us again, then looks up the street the other way.

“Dad says she left two hours ago to bring cookies to the Jamisons’ house up the block, and she’s not back. I figured she stayed to chat with Mrs. Jamison, but then Mrs. Jamison came in to meet with Dad about the service tomorrow. She says Nonna left her house more than an hour ago.”

My stomach loops in a knot. Where is she?

“Do you want us to walk the neighborhood and see if anyone has seen her?” Zig asks. He loves Nonna almost as much as I do.

“Yes,” Mom says. I stand still for a minute and watch her. I can’t decide how scared to be. Mom bites her top lip and twists her wedding ring around and around on her finger, looking down from the porch. Finally, she takes a deep breath and nods.

“Just take a quick walk around this block and the next one up toward the store,” she says, taking my backpack and heading inside. “I’m going to call the Bensons in case she’s there.”

Zig starts down the steps but I feel frozen in place. What if something’s really happened to Nonna?

Zig looks up at me from the sidewalk. If something is wrong, we need to find her fast. I take the steps two at a time, and we start up the street.

“Let’s head up toward the store and swing around back,” he says. “Then we can check back here with your mom if we don’t find her.” He walks faster.

If we don’t find her.

We have to find her.

She has to be okay.

A siren blares in the distance, and I start to run, even though I’m not sure where I’m going.

Zig rushes to catch up to me.

“We’ll find her, Gee.”

I stop so fast he almost crashes into me. “Wait! What if she’s at the hospital? Maybe she fell, and someone took her there. Mom should call the hospital and check. We should go back and tell her.”

Zig takes my hand and pulls me off the curb. “No, we told her we’d go by the store and check this block. We should do that first.” He starts to let go of my hand, but I hold on. I need to hold on to something right now.

A gust of wind whooshes through the treetops over our heads. The leaves swish and rain down in noisy colors onto the sidewalk, and we run all the way to the corner, looking up and down the street.

I need her to be here.

I need her to be safe.

I need to see her walking along with a friend or stepping out of the store with a pint of cream.

But she’s not.

“Zig, where would she even be? She’s not going to be standing in the middle of the street, and if she fell on the sidewalk, someone would have stopped and helped her.”

“Let’s check in at the store. Maybe somebody will have seen her.”

We start walking again just as the clouds open up. Big, dark spots plunk down on the dappled gray sidewalk. It’s cold fall rain that reminds me what winter is going to feel like. I look up, and a drop plops onto my cheekbone. I reach up to wipe it with my palm and realize the chilly raindrop is mixed with the warm, salty water of spilling-over tears. Why didn’t Mom and Dad notice sooner that she was gone?

Zig looks over at me. “She’s going to be okay, Gee.”

“You don’t know that!” I drop his hand. “Anything could have happened by now. She could be hurt somewhere, she could have had an accident down by the stream if she decided to walk the back way, she could be . . .”

He takes my hand back. “She’s okay.” And he pulls me toward the store.

She’s okay.

She’s okay.

I keep saying it to myself, willing my feet to move in front of one another again.

She’s okay. We’ll walk up to the store, we’ll keep our eyes open, we’ll ask around, and if we don’t find her, we’ll head home. She’s probably back there by now. I’ll think positive. She probably ran into one of her friends from church out gardening and then stopped to see her chrysanthemums and popped in for a cup of tea and lost track of time. She’s probably home by now, starting dinner. I’m breathing more slowly, and the tears have stopped, but my hair and clothes are soaked. The rain has picked up.

We fly up the steps of the Corner Mart. There’s still no sign of Nonna, and the sky is starting to rumble.

Zig pulls open the door, and the bell jingles as we step in, dripping on the gray tiles. Mr. Mulcahy looks up from the cash register where he’s ringing up a box of cereal for Ruby and her mom.

“Gianna! You look like an Irish setter that’s just had a cold shower.” Normally, I’d joke right back with Mr. Mulcahy; today I don’t even notice. I don’t answer him. I don’t even say hi to Ruby or ask how she’s doing. I just stand there with my hair dripping into my eyes.

Mr. Mulcahy rips off two paper towels from the roll behind the deli counter and hands them to me.

“Has Gianna’s grandmother been in lately, Mr. Mulcahy?” Zig asks.

Mr. Mulcahy shakes his head and turns to me. “You’re looking for her?”

“She’s . . . We can’t find her. I mean, she’s okay. I think she is. I hope she is. But she went to see Mrs. Jamison and left hours ago and isn’t home yet.” I start to cry again. Without saying anything, Ruby sets down the Cheerios and puts a hand on my shoulder. Mr. Mulcahy comes out from behind the counter.

“Have your folks called the police?”

“No. Well, maybe, by now. We’re checking the neighborhood first.”

The sky outside flashes, and the whole store lights up. Two seconds later, thunder booms so loud it rattles the cans of tuna fish on the shelves.

“This isn’t weather for anyone to be out in.” Mr. Mulcahy frowns. He reaches under the counter for his keys. “I’ll run you two home in the delivery van. It’s time to close up anyway, and we can check any streets where you haven’t looked for your grandmother yet.”

“I’ll go with you!” Ruby looks at her mom after she says it. I’m not sure what good it will do to have her along, but somehow just the fact that she offered makes it seem like there’s hope. Ruby’s mom nods and reaches into her pocket for a cell phone.

“Call if you’re not going to be home by five thirty.” She kisses Ruby on the forehead and stops to take my hand. “You call too, if your family needs anything at all.”

When Mr. Mulcahy swings open the glass door, the rain is roaring, like static on television turned up full blast. The maple leaves on the sidewalk look wet and dark.

Zig opens the door to the red delivery van parked by the curb. I climb in and scoot over to make room for him and Ruby. The three of us all scrunch into the front seat, and it doesn’t leave much room for Mr. Mulcahy, but he squeezes in, buckles his seatbelt, and makes a quick U-turn in front of the store.

“Anywhere you want me to drive so we can take a look?” he asks, turning the windshield wipers up to full blast.

“I don’t think so.” I sigh. I don’t know where else to look, or even how we’d see Nonna in all this rain. It’s like wet, gray curtains. “Could you just drop us at my house and I’ll see if my parents have any news?”

But before we get to my block, I spot a tall, wet woman in a business suit running down the sidewalk toward us.

“That’s my mom!”

Mr. Mulcahy beeps the horn and stops. She runs up to his window.

“Nonna is at the Simmonses’ house.” Her wet hair is plastered to her face. “Come with me. I may need your help.”

“Mom, Ruby’s here too. She was at the store when Zig and I—”

“I don’t care who comes. Let’s go!”

“Thanks, Mr. Mulcahy.” We jump down from the van. I walk around to Mom, expecting to see relief on her face, but the creases around her eyes are still there. She starts jogging again. Zig and Ruby and I have to run to catch up.

“She’s okay, right?” I ask, starting to breathe more quickly. Mom is moving fast, and her legs are longer than ours.

“She’s okay,” Mom says, but not like she means it. We cross the street to get to the Simmonses’ house. I expect Mom to go right up to the front door, but she whips around the side porch and heads for their pool out back. I follow her but stop short when I reach the open gate and see why she came this way. Ruby and Zig stop right behind me.

Nonna is sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water, soaking wet from head to foot. She must be freezing. I can’t tell if she fell in or if she’s just been out in the rain all afternoon, but she’s looking up at Mrs. Simmons like she’s terrified of her, even though she’s known her for years. Mrs. Simmons is soaked too. She looks relieved when Mom runs up.

I’m still at the gate and can’t hear what Mrs. Simmons says, but Mom listens, and I see her reach up to wipe water from her eyes when she looks over at Nonna, sitting on the edge of the pool. Her feet are still in the water with her beige orthopedic shoes tied neatly. She’s still staring up at Mrs. Simmons and Mom, like they’re aliens.

It looks like a scene from a movie. A scene from somebody else’s family. Mine is supposed to be home, watching the rain from the window and eating funeral-wedding cookies and arguing over homework.

“Why does she look like that?” I whisper.

“She’s confused,” Zig says, stepping closer to me. His wet sweatshirt brushes my arm. “But she’s okay. Your mom’s taking care of her.”

Mom walks over to Nonna, squats down next to her, and puts a hand on her shoulder. Nonna listens, but she still looks lost.

I shiver. Now that I’m not running, the wind chills me through my soaked clothes and my nose is running. I wipe it on my sleeve, wrap my arms around myself, and look down at Mrs. Simmons’s planters by the swimming-pool gate. They’re full of yellow mums, too bright and out of place. They ought to quiet down and turn brown like everything else.

When I look up, Nonna is finally letting Mom help her to her feet. They start walking toward the gate, toward us, and step out of the pool area just as Dad pulls the van into the driveway. Ian jumps out of the backseat and runs to Mom.

“I’m going to talk with Mrs. Simmons for just a minute. Go tell Daddy we’ll be right there. And take this to the car for me.” She hands Ian her cell phone, and his eyes light up. He races to the car. Ruby and Zig follow him, but I stay back.

I turn to Nonna. She’s staring at the minivan as if she’s never seen it before. Finally, I reach out for her hand. She looks down at my hand, takes it, and looks into my eyes. “Gianna,” she says, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath. I breathe out now. She knows who I am. She may not know where she is. She may not know the green Honda Odyssey. But Nonna knows me.