Ray glares at me. “Seriously, you are the biggest baby I know.”
“Well, at least one of us isn’t acting like a mini grown-up,” I say. “Trying to be such a big shot, acting like you know how to expand the hardware store—”
Ray hurls the drop cloth to the ground, where it lands in a heap. “The store that’s losing money every month. The store that’s hanging on by a tiny thread because Dad can’t see that he needs to try something new. I’m so tired of being in this family that’s stuck doing things the way they’ve always been done.”
My breath catches; my mind whirls with new information. I know Dad’s been worried and preoccupied, but I didn’t think the store was losing money. That can’t be true, can it?
“Well, I’m tired of being stuck in this family that eats oatmeal every day,” I say. “I wish Ma would come home. I miss spaghetti dinners in the bathtub. I miss frozen-waffle picnics in the park. I miss everything we had. And I want it back.”
Ray rolls his eyes. “Ma is never coming back, Annie. I can’t believe you think she’ll show up and want to be our mom again. No more spaghetti, no more waffles. No more dog bites because she wasn’t even watching us.”
The lump in my throat is expanding. I can barely breathe, let alone talk. “How dare you say that! You are a lot of things, Raymond K. Logan, but I never knew you were so disloyal.”
Ray growls in frustration, running both hands through his hair like he wants to rip it out. “Because it’s true. She left. She’s never coming back.”
I don’t want to hear it. I shake my head like it will push his words away.
“You don’t understand because you have Dad,” I tell him. “But she left me all alone.”
Ray shakes his head tightly. “You aren’t alone. You have Dad and me. You have JoJo and The Earl and Faith and all kinds of people in this town.”
Hot, prickly tears pop into my eyes. “Maybe that’s true for you, but it isn’t for me. Everyone gets along with perfect Ray. You have it easy.”
Ray’s face flickers with emotion. The muscle in his jaw tenses. His hand turns into a fist. I automatically step aside. But instead of hitting me, he punches the wall.
“Augh!” Ray shouts, swinging his hand back and forth like it’s on fire.
I gasp, covering my mouth in shock. “What in the world? Did you break your hand?”
His eyes are bright and wet. “It’s not easy for me!”
My mouth hangs open. I’m stunned. “I—What?”
“She … left … me … too,” he says in a halting voice. Each word is sharp and solid, with fully formed edges.
My mind is blank. I hear his words but can’t sort their meaning.
He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a shudder.
“It happened to me, too,” he says. “Ma left me, too. You act like it only happened to you, but it didn’t. She left all of us.”
I gulp. “Ray, I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did,” he says. “You always do. You are so selfish. You are the most selfish person I’ve ever met.”
Before I can speak, he turns and walks away.
I want to yell. I want to make him turn around. The words burn in my throat, but I can’t make myself talk. Instead, I just watch him go.
CHAPTER
26
Ray isn’t supposed to get mad. He and Dad are supposed to be alike. Practical. Predictable. Always holding it together.
But patient, steady, perfect Ray has stormed off, and I’m standing on the sidewalk with only a drop cloth for company.
I need to get away. I turn in the opposite direction from the way Ray is heading. I don’t know where I’m going, but my feet make a plan for me. I end up at the barn. When I push the heavy door open, the sharp-sweet sawdust smell hits me and smooths a bit of my jagged edges.
I’m the only one there, and I’m glad. I switch the radio on and spin the dial until I hear the zippy fiddles of the bluegrass station. Then I turn and survey the barn.
The floats are so familiar, it feels like seeing friends. I walk by them one by one—JoJo & The Earl’s table piled high with a barbecue feast, the bookshelves at Oak Branch Books dotted with rosy maple moths, the H. Diggity hot dog loaded with toppings. The floats are full of personality, just like all the shops and restaurants in our town. The only exception is the one in the corner. The float Dad and Ray started but never finished. The one that says our family is broken, busted, and missing a piece. The float that says our family can’t work together.
I go closer to take a better look. The base is sturdy, probably the strongest in the barn. But that’s all it is—a base.
I’m so frustrated, I give it a good kick.
“Ow!”
Stars dance in my vision. I feel dizzy, so I ease myself into a sit. While I rub my foot, I look at the wood planks and recognize the design from Ray’s diagrams.
Ray may be perfect, but this float sure isn’t. Dad may be practical and predictable, but a float without something beautiful is worse than pointless—it’s a waste. A solid structure is important, but it needs something more to make it shine.
I may be selfish, but I know art. I know how to make a parade float come alive.
I’m tired of everything unsaid in my family. I head to the metal lockers where supplies are kept. I get chicken wire, zip ties, and bundles of newspapers. And then I get to work.
CHAPTER
27
I build and cut and glue until my fingers are numb and my eyes are crossed from strain. My mouth is scratchy, and I can’t remember the last time I ate or drank. There’s a chill in the air, which makes me wish I still had the green sweatshirt I left under a napping Otto.
But in front of me, I see something—where before, there was nothing. To me, that’s the exact definition of making art.
People come and go in the barn, but I’m focused on my project. I don’t look up—that is, not until I hear someone calling my name.
“Annie,” JoJo says. “Sit down and have something to eat.”
In one hand, she holds a plate stacked high with all my favorites—Eastern-style barbecue, boiled potatoes, and corn sticks. In the other, she holds an extra-tall glass of lemonade.
As soon as I notice the food, my stomach lets out a rumble. I haven’t eaten since this morning, but I hadn’t even realized I was hungry.
I look around, blinking. “What time is it anyway?”
“Almost nine,” says JoJo.
I smack my forehead. “Dad’s going to be mad—”
But she’s shaking her head. “I was up here earlier and saw you working hard. Popped by the store to say I’d take you supper and make sure you get home safe. I told him not to wait up.”
We find a pair of chairs, and I tuck in to my plate. It’s delicious as always. Hot and spicy and sweet, and of course the very best part—made with love.
When I finish, I wipe my mouth. “Now what?”
“You tell me,” she says. “Why don’t you put me to work?”
My eyebrows pop up. “Really?”
She nods firmly. “You’ve helped with every float in here. Now I’m going to help you.”
I should probably be polite and tell her no, but my glance falls on a pile of pink and yellow fabric. I hesitate. “If you’re sure, I could use some help with my moths. They’re a little skimpy.”
She rubs her hands together, grinning. “Let me at them.”
I show her the materials, and JoJo sets to fattening up my moths. She twists and turns the strips of pink and yellow material. Her hands are quick and agile, reminding me of the way she weaves the lattice tops for her cherry pies.
She holds one out to admire.
“That’s better,” she says, a note of satisfaction in her voice.
“Much better,” I agree. “No one likes a skinny moth.”
Her eyes twinkle, and she reaches for another. We settle into a rhythm. I cut the strips of material, and JoJo wraps the bodies. After that, I add the eyes and antennae
. Even if no one will appreciate these details from a distance, I love making their funny faces. There’s something magic about seeing their transformation from puny creatures into their fuzzy and fabulous selves.
My fingers fly as I try to match her pace. And as busy as my hands are, I guess my thoughts are, too—because suddenly my mind is crowded with thoughts. All the thoughts about Ray I’ve pushed away are suddenly right there in my head and I can’t escape them. They run in an endless loop. Our fight. The way he said I embarrass him. How he yelled. The way he punched the wall.
I wish JoJo could fix it for us. We need someone to twist up our problems and tuck in all our edges.
When I look up, she’s watching me. “Everything okay, sugar?”
I clear my throat. “I messed up. With Ray.”
She twirls fabric around the moth abdomen, which is turning plumper by the second. “Whatever it is, I’m sure you two can work it out.”
I set down my antennae. “Not sure about that, JoJo. He was real mad. I always knew we were different, but now I know we aren’t one bit alike. We’re complete opposites.”
She’s quiet for a long time. Finally, she fixes me with her blue gaze. Not fierce like Gloria’s but soft like a pair of faded jeans.
“Did I ever tell you about Dale?” she asks.
I shake my head.
She sighs and sets down the moth. “My first husband.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. I think I knew technically that she had one, but she never talks about him.
“We were terrible together,” she says. “We’d fight like cats and dogs, yelling and screaming, always struggling to prove who was right.”
It’s all I can do to keep my mouth from dropping open. JoJo’s voice is like the satin-ribbon border on a cozy blanket. Imagining her screaming is absolutely impossible.
I frown. “What happened?”
“He traveled with his work. Long trips,” JoJo says. “And one day he’d been gone for a while, and I realized he was never coming back. Left me with our two little boys.”
My brain jumps around like electricity. JoJo got left, too.
“I remember the day I filed the papers to end our marriage. I was sure I wouldn’t fall in love again,” she continues. “Too much trouble. Too much pain.”
She sighs, shaking her head. “But then I met The Earl. He swooped in with that big personality of his. And made me feel like he’d always be there for me—for the boys, too, even though they were grown by then.”
I smile, thinking of the story of their restaurant. Right down the middle, representing each of them equally.
“You and The Earl are the exact definition of ‘happily ever after.’ You never argue,” I say.
Her eyes crinkle in a smile. “It’s okay to disagree with someone you love. He and I do our share of it.”
My jaw really does drop this time. “But y’all are the two biggest lovebirds I’ve ever seen.”
She laughs. “Even people who like each other a whole lot—who love each other—have conflicts sometimes. But we always try to see the other’s perspective. Sometimes that’s what love is—putting aside the notion of being right and instead being just plain curious about the person you’re talking to.”
I never thought about it that way. But I’m not thinking about JoJo and The Earl. Instead, I’m thinking about my parents.
I look at her carefully, weighing my words. “Did Ma and Dad fight like cats and dogs, too?”
JoJo’s eyes widen. I’ve never asked her about Ma before. But I never wanted answers as much as I do now.
“Not that I ever saw, honey,” she says quietly.
Disappointment crawls into my chest. I cross my arms. She looks at me like she can tell I’m upset.
Her forehead creases in confusion. “Were you hoping that they did?”
“It’s not that I wanted them to fight,” I say. “But a reason would be nice—something that makes sense.”
“Have you tried asking your dad?” she asks.
I bite my lip. “He doesn’t believe that old memories should be dredged up.”
She nods. We’re quiet, for a while, like that.
“Do you want me to tell you about your ma?”
Her voice is so gentle, it makes tears pop into my eyes.
“More than anything in the world,” I tell her, and I mean it sincerely.
“She liked to walk in the rain,” JoJo says, remembering. “People worried because she’d take you and Ray with her, even if it was cold. But she was careful—bundling you in a baby carrier and Ray in his yellow slicker and frog boots.”
My breath catches. The way she describes it is like a picture. “The kind of carrier where the baby rides in the front?”
JoJo smiles. “Exactly that kind.”
I knew it! I rode in a baby carrier, just like Fabian. I can practically feel Ma kissing the top of my head. I don’t have that empty-balloon feeling. For the first time in ages, I feel full and warm.
I also feel greedy for more of these little bits of Ma.
“What else?” I try to sound casual, but inside I’m memorizing every word.
JoJo looks into the distance, but I can see the warmth glowing in her eyes. “She liked my chess pie. You’re supposed to let it cool, but she’d only eat it straight from the oven. I used to call her when I was baking one.”
I look at JoJo sideways. “Didn’t that bother her? I bet she burned her mouth.”
JoJo shakes her head. “Other things bothered her, but never the pie.”
I lean forward so far, I almost fall over. “What do you mean, other things bothered her?” This feels like the clue I’ve been waiting for—the thing that will help me understand.
JoJo shrugs. “She had bad days, where she couldn’t get out of bed. Other times, she’d walk for miles, like she had a motor inside pushing her on.”
“Is there anything else?” I ask. “It feels like I’m missing pieces to a jigsaw puzzle.”
JoJo studies my face. “What is it you’re looking for exactly, Annie? Let me know how to help.”
Her words are soft, but they hit me hard. I thought it was obvious. Ma. I’m looking for Ma. I don’t say the words, but I think them so loud, it’s like my brain is shouting. I want something real about her, not a floating balloon that’s just out of reach.
“I understand what you’re saying about marriage—at least I think so. But what—” I start to say, but something catches in my throat. The words feel like spikeballs, and it hurts to keep them in.
“What made her leave me?” I pause, remembering Ray’s words on the sidewalk outside the store. Ma left me, too.
I shake my head. “Us. Me and Ray.”
The question felt strong on the inside, but the words squeak out in a whisper.
JoJo reaches for my hand, tracing my dog-bite scars. “She was miserable after this happened. She wouldn’t leave the hospital even for a single minute.”
I frown. She must not have been too worried, because she left as soon as I got better.
“Your dad was frantic with worry—about his little girl in the hospital, about his wife who couldn’t stop crying,” JoJo continues. “Such a tiny hand. Lucky it wasn’t even more serious.”
I pull my hand away. “Nothing lucky about it.”
I look down at the moths. I feel like crushing them one by one.
JoJo studies my face for a moment. “Her thinking wasn’t right, Annie, but it had nothing to do with how much she loved you. I think she honestly believed you and Ray would be better off without her.”
We go back to our work. I can tell she thinks she’s eased my mind. I don’t have the heart to tell her she’s churned everything up even more.
Balloons of questions swarm in my head. Hearing that Ma was worried about me should make me feel happier, but instead I spark with anger. Maybe I was lucky that the dog bite wasn’t worse—that I don’t have permanent damage. But then Ma left, which was the worst thing that could happen.
&
nbsp; I remember Gloria’s words. Not luck. Just life. But what about when your entire life is bad luck?
CHAPTER
28
The next morning, I’m exhausted. I wake up thinking of Faith. We haven’t talked since the dinner at JoJo & The Earl’s. I need to find her.
I get dressed and head downtown. I push the door open at Lulu’s, and Faith is behind the counter, wearing an apron.
“Hi,” I say. “Can I have a corn muffin?”
She shrugs and puts one in a bag. “That’s all?”
I gulp. “Do you want to go somewhere and talk?”
She looks like she’s thinking it over, but Louise appears out of nowhere, smiling. “You two go ahead. No charge on that, Annie.”
Faith hangs her apron in the back and appears a minute later, holding a berry muffin for herself.
“Come on,” she says, and I follow her.
I think we’re going to the back patio, but instead she heads for an opening in the trees. Before I know it, we’re down at the lake. There’s a big boulder that’s wedged on the shoreline, half in the water and half out of it.
Without a word, Faith kicks off her shoes and crawls onto the rock. I do the same, but she just looks into the distance, picking the raspberries out of the muffin and eating them one by one. I wonder if we’re still friends or if I managed to mess that up, too.
The sweet corn taste sticks in my throat.
“Are you mad at me or something?” I ask.
“After the way you acted at dinner, I thought you were mad at me,” she says coolly.
I take a deep breath. What I want to say is: “Faith, I’m having a really bad couple of days, so if you want to tell me something, just do it.”
What really happens is this: I start crying. Big sobs squeeze through my body and push out of me like they have a mind of their own. It’s like every bit of sadness from yesterday has chosen this moment to come squeezing through my body.
Faith’s eyes widen. “Annie, are you okay?”
I swing my head back and forth. I’m not okay. I’m not.
She grabs my elbow. “Stick your feet in the water.”
These Unlucky Stars Page 12
