Hold Fast (9780545510196)

by Balliett, Blue

  “I know, dear, and I’ll find it when I go in to pick up the kids this afternoon.”

  Early rode alone in the back of the patrol car, imagining that this was what it might feel like to be Dash if the police found him before his family did.

  They sped by the entrance to the school. Early ducked down and pretended to tie her sneaker, just in case one of the kids spotted her through a window. Not that she was ever going back there. Just in case.

  Her whole life felt like a bunch of just-in-case moments now. Eating in the school hallway, just in case someone made her feel bad again; checking the recycling a bunch of times, just in case there was almost-unused paper for Jubie; rushing upstairs as soon as she was back from school, just in case Sum needed the time before dinner for phone calls.

  And now oh, no! Early realized with a surge of frustration that Mrs. B. had left Mr. Waive’s telephone number for her to “find” at lunchtime, just in case she truly needed it. She did! But now she’d be labeled as the Difficult Homeless Girl if she went back, and Mrs. B. would never dare to do that again.

  The city spinning by outside the windows of the patrol car looked bleak and unkind, a landscape of doors and windows that said, never, never, never.

  Crack

  When Early peeked through the curtains in the hospital emergency room, Sum shrieked and almost crushed her with a surprised hug. Early threw her arms around her mother’s neck, something she hadn’t done in ages. Jubie grinned and made excited snorting sounds from behind his oxygen mask. Sum explained that he’d had a coughing fit that morning and then couldn’t seem to catch his breath. The doctors diagnosed pneumonia with a sinus infection, and had already started him on antibiotics. They assured Sum that he’d be feeling like his usual, bouncy self in no time.

  Early pulled Rhythms out of her bag, and both Sum and Jubie clapped as if she’d done a magic trick. The hospital was welcoming, feeding them all a lunch of grilled cheese and grapes. They felt almost giddy. For the first time since they’d gotten to the shelter, the three Pearls were on their own, out of the cold and in a brightly lit place where they could talk freely.

  Early spilled the story of the whole rotten morning, including the missed opportunity to get Mr. Waive’s number.

  Sum listened intently, then said, “We gotta get ourselves moving somehow. That shelter is a godsend, of course, but there’re enough germs to bring down an army, and it’s so hard to get anything done! Here’s an idea, Early: Why don’t we homeschool you for a bit? Then I can actually go and apply for some jobs, leaving you and Jubie together in a lobby or a store for a few minutes; we can visit libraries, go to free places in the city, and think again. I feel like I can’t get my head together when we’re there, night and day; it’s like living inside a subway station, so busy and noisy all the time. And even when you make a phone call, people can hear what you’re saying. There’s just no privacy, ever!”

  Early brightened at the thought of homeschooling, but then paused. “How can I do anything but take care of Jubie, though, if you’re working? And you know we can’t stay in the shelter alone.”

  “Mmm,” Sum said. “Well, let’s take it a step at a time. As Dash says, we got it all, meaning we’re young and strong and we have each other. Just gotta make it work. Let’s start, when we get out of the hospital today, by checking every want ad in the papers. Look, I picked up free copies in the lobby here. Might find some wonderful old grandma to watch Jubie when he gets better and I’m working! And by then we will have sorted out the whole school mess. We’ll do fine, with or without that Mr. Waive.”

  Early felt almost happy as the three returned to the shelter that night. She listened to her mom telling Mrs. Happadee that Jubie was now on medicine and already feeling better, and that Early would be studying on her own for a bit. Mrs. Happadee brought them the missing coat and backpack, which she’d rescued from a locker at school, but looked concerned at the news about not returning to Hughes.

  “Ever homeschooled before, Mrs. Pearl?” she asked.

  “Well, no, but Early has always been ahead and loves to read.”

  “I’m sure she’s a wonderful student, but life at a shelter is a big adjustment already, as you know, and we don’t want her to fall behind her grade level. There’s math and science to study….”

  “No worries, Mrs. Happadee. She won’t be out long,” Sum said. Early nodded, not knowing if this was the truth.

  When they were upstairs and tucked into bed, Sum read aloud the first chapter from Rhythms, and Langston’s company felt perfect.

  Early loved the grace with which he described drawing circles, one inside the other:

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  See how these circles almost seem to move, for you have left something of your own movement there, and your own feeling of place and of roundness. Your circles are not quite like the circles of anyone else in the world, because you are not like anyone else.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  When a Jubie-sized face peeked through the curtains around their cluster and asked, “You got your book?” Sum smiled. As soon as she did, the boy muttered, “It was me who had it, but I was scared to give it back yesterday, you was so mad.” Then he added in a whisper, “And my mama woulda whupt me if she’d knowed.”

  Sum patted his hand and said, “I won’t tell. And besides, you didn’t do anything wrong — Jubie gave it to you! I was just upset and homesick. This is a family book and it means a whole lot to us. I’ll be sure my son returns your truck tomorrow. And hey, want to listen?”

  The boy shrugged, grinned, and curled against Jubie, who was now fast asleep. He listened to a couple of pages before sleeping, too, and when his mother came to scoop him up off the bunk, she thanked Sum for reading. She explained that she couldn’t see well enough to read aloud to her kids, but both Early and Sum knew the truth was something else: This mother could barely read. They’d seen her struggling with a newsletter from the school. At least Sum had finished high school and had the advantage of all those years of sharing books with Dash.

  “You’re lucky, Sum,” Early said.

  Understanding what she meant, Sum sighed. “I guess I am. Reading is a tool no one can take away. A million bad things may happen in life and it’ll still be with you, like a flashlight that never needs a battery. Reading can offer a crack of light on the blackest of nights.”

  Early looked carefully at her mother’s face. “You sound like Dash now.”

  “Do I?” Sum smiled with her eyes, one of the saddest smiles Early had ever seen.

  Chase, from the Anglo-French chacer

  Verb: to rush after, follow or pursue in order to catch.

  Noun: an event in which living creatures are hunted.

  Chase, from the Anglo-French enchaser

  Verb: to decorate metal by indenting with a delicate

  hammer and tools, sometimes adding gems.

  Chase, from the Middle French chasse and Latin capsa

  Noun: a rectangular metal frame used for printing.

  Chase

  Up, down, up, down: Early felt like life was starting to copy the line patterns at the beginning of The First Book of Rhythms. Some days there was hope, and a landscape in sight; other days it felt like her family had fallen down and would never get up again. If there was a rhythm here, it sure didn’t feel easy.

  The Chicago Public Library had always been a source of great pride for the Pearls. Dash was thrilled by his connection to the Harold Washington branch, and felt as though he belonged there. Sum and the kids loved the second-floor Children’s Library, which was huge and always packed with new titles. Inside this building, the world had felt generous, limitless, like a safe spot for dreams to grow.

  The largest public library facility in the world, the place is a brick and rose-colored granite fortress with soaring windows, an elegant conversation between stone and glass. Perched at each corner of the roof, massive green metal owls peer out from leafy plants. Early had thought they were storybook creatures meant
to welcome kids until Dash had explained that owls symbolize knowledge and wisdom.

  Rhythms are a fact on the outside of this building: Horizontal bands encircling each story are crossed by a vertical design of cornstalks cascading downward at intervals. Layers of rounded framing echo windows and soften the geometry of the whole. At street level, many doors open on each side. It is a castle that welcomes.

  Named after former mayor Harold Washington, a can-do man who was Chicago’s first African American to run the city, the structure whispers, Yes! Whoever you are, come in! This building is for you! It is so large that it has its own stop on the elevated train. Everyone is invited in, no matter what age or stage, and all nationalities are welcome. Early remembered Dash explaining to her that people without homes often came to get warm in the winter or cool in the summer, and that the library was a kind place, even to those who were too unwell or tired to read. A refuge, he called it.

  Early opened her eyes one morning and suddenly knew that this was where she should be each day. And maybe, just maybe, she’d discover where Dash had gone. It was a place that had been the center of their lives. If something had gone wrong for Dash, it could only be because of a tangle. A tangle! And, of course, tangles didn’t fix themselves. Early couldn’t wait to get to work. Kids had small fingers, and small fingers were good at knots.

  When she asked Sum at breakfast if the three of them could go, Early didn’t mention to her mother that she was planning to return to the library every day, each and every day, until she figured out what was going on. Sum thought this was just an expedition, and Early knew better than to say any more.

  The train stop near the shelter was close, only three blocks away, and it took you right to Harold Washington. Early watched carefully, memorizing the route and the number of stops. The elevated train, a hundred-year-old system that creaked and trembled, snaked through a few different neighborhoods on its way downtown. Early got a glimpse of boarded-up houses and apartment buildings. She’d seen places like these in Woodlawn, but they’d never meant anything. Now, quite suddenly, they did.

  Every window and door was covered with plywood, and sometimes there was a huge padlock on the entrance. Surrounding these buildings was trash, and lots of it: parts of cars, old tires, sinks and toilets, broken furniture, sometimes bags of clothing scattered through weeds. Here and there you might see an old lawn chair still standing or a one-handled tricycle. Some buildings bore the smoky scars of fires and jagged holes in the roofs, but others looked fine. Just empty. These places were sad, the word home still echoing around the brick and wood. Home. Early thought about how it must hurt to look at a place where you used to live and see it so neglected, as if you were long gone. Like the building had died, and its eyes and mouth were closed, nailed shut. It was a spooky thought.

  “Sum,” she said.

  “Uh-uh,” her mother replied. She was looking out the window, too.

  “How come there are so many homes standing empty in Chicago and so many people like us who don’t have a home? How come those empty homes aren’t being fixed up and filled with people who need a place to live?”

  “That is an A-number-one question, Early. I don’t know the answer. It feels wrong and pretty crazy, doesn’t it? Wasteful. Seems like it wouldn’t take that much to make some of these places livable again.”

  Early nodded. The three were quiet, watching the landscape of buildings roll by outside the train. The difference between a window with a glimpse of everyday life inside and a window with nothing but boards was startling.

  She pushed her hood back and scratched one ear. “Hey! If some rich person, like a basketball player or a movie star, just adopted one home at a time and made it nice again for people to live in, but only people who couldn’t afford a place, that would be so amazing. Folks could get on their feet, you know? Have an address! Hold a job!”

  “I think it’s brilliant, Early. You should write a bunch of letters to the people who run the city … and some millionaires. You might start something big.”

  “Someone else must have thought of that before, but you never know, Sum. Dash would say it was a great idea, wouldn’t he?”

  “He would,” Sum said, her voice suddenly quieter. “He would.”

  “Maybe you can get us a house, Early,” Jubie piped up. “A house with a yard. Can you? Then when Dash gets home, I’ll be sitting on the steps waiting and he’ll be sooooo surprised!”

  “Yeah,” Early said, “I’ll try.” She felt bad she’d gotten Jubie thinking about it. Sum said nothing for the rest of the ride.

  Chase

  Mrs. Wormser hurried from behind her desk. “Early! Early, Early, Early!”

  After two giant hugs and a kiss in between, the librarian pulled back and said simply, “I don’t believe it. Any of this. Just horrible.”

  Early explained her plan to Mrs. Wormser.

  “Smart,” the librarian agreed. “Go for it. You may uncover something, truly, but be careful. I’m not sure what’s up around here, but none of us feel at ease with Mr. Pincer or that assistant he’s brought in, Ms. Whissel. Have you met either of them?”

  Early shook her head.

  “You’ll see what I mean. Now I’m off to the bathroom, and you just slip past my desk while I’m gone.”

  “Thanks.” Early gave her a quick grin. “For everything. Oh, and Sum says hi. She and Jubie are downstairs in the Children’s Library.”

  After checking the name tag and knocking softly on his open door, Early peeked around the corner. “Good morning, Mr. Pincer,” she said, in a cheerful voice that she hoped sounded like a breath of fresh air. “Nice to meet you! I’m Early Pearl. Dashel’s daughter.” She’d known just where to go; Dash had often taken her into the Staff Only offices.

  Mr. Pincer started to get up from his desk, sat down again, banged his knee, and then spilled his coffee. He popped the cup upright, mopped at the dark puddle with a handful of napkins from the doughnut shop down the street, and tried to smile.

  “Welcome, welcome! Gotta say you surprised me!”

  “I’m kind of surprising myself,” Early said. “But here’s what I want to do: Collect everyone’s memories about my father. I can’t really help the police figure out the whole mess; I know I’m just a kid, but Dash and I were superclose, and —”

  Early broke off and looked down, waiting for Mr. Pincer to reach out. He did. “Of course, of course!” he said. “That’s a marvelous idea. Of course you want to preserve memories. I’ll do everything I can to help. Yes, to help,” he repeated, as if he needed to hear himself say it again.

  “That’s great of you, Mr. Pincer,” Early gushed. “I knew you’d understand. Do you have kids of your own?”

  The man grunted, cleared his throat, and said, “No, no children. Not that lucky, I guess,” he finished, with a pasted-on smile. “I guess,” he added. Early wondered if he always repeated himself, or just didn’t like kids.

  She looked back down at her hands and said, “So, how would you like me to start? I’m not in school at the moment — I’m helping my mother and getting, well, adjusted. We’re living in a shelter far away from our old neighborhood of Woodlawn, and Sum is looking for a job, but she hasn’t found a place to leave Jubie yet. Everything in the shelter neighborhood is so, well, you know, dangerous. Dirty. And my brother, Jubie, got real sick with all the germs; he had to go to the hospital for oxygen, but he’s coughing less now.” Early paused for a gulp of air and looked up.

  Mr. Pincer’s pale brown eyes were looking paler. “A shelter, did you say? A shelter?”

  “Yes, sir,” Early said. Using ma’am or sir always gave a kid some kind of advantage.

  “Oh, my. Yes, well. Well. Got food and warm enough?”

  “They gave us blankets and sheets and toothbrushes, and Sum and Jubie and I all sleep in a bunk bed in a big room with a lot of other moms and kids. You wait in lines to get a meal and you wait in lines for everything, now that I think about it. After our apartment got
destroyed —”

  Mr. Pincer was leaning farther and farther back in his chair, as if that were the only escape option available. “Destroyed? Did you say destroyed? What happened? You’d better tell me, yes, tell me,” he said, not sounding like he wanted to hear at all.

  Early was feeling like things were going just right. “Oh, I thought you knew! Well, three men and a woman turned up in our apartment on the same day my mother came to see you here. Later on. At bedtime. They said they were police, then when Sum didn’t open the door, they knocked it down. Scared us to death. They wanted something; they wrecked everything and left with all of our books and even our family notebooks. They took it all.”

  “All your books … All, all …” Mr. Pincer echoed faintly. He picked up one of the coffee-soaked paper napkins and dabbed at his forehead, leaving a wet smear peppered with grounds and sugar.

  “And then,” Early continued breathlessly, “Sum was sheltering us kids with her body, and it was awful, we were all crying, and one of the men pushed Sum and she hit her head. Big bruise. Then he tried to pull me away, but Sum grabbed me back.”

  “Oh, my,” Mr. Pincer was muttering. “Oh, my. I wonder why — I mean who — did your mother tell the police?”

  “Of course.”

  “And … do you know what the four people wanted?” Mr. Pincer asked, leaning forward slightly in his chair. “Do you know?”

  “No, sir,” Early said promptly. “Do you?”

  “Ha, well, huff!” The chair snapped backward. “Of course not, not, not!” Mr. Pincer looked like it was hard work pulling himself off the nots.

  “It is a knot, isn’t it? I mean, a tangle.” Early couldn’t resist this one.

  Mr. Pincer looked sharply at her for the first time. “Your father used to enjoy wordplay as well, yes, just as well, I mean —” He broke off and rubbed his hand over his forehead, then looked at it as if it had betrayed him. He wiped the nastiness off on his pants.