by Meg Leder
As I walk to join Finn and Charlie and Ruby, for the first time in a long time, I feel strangely hopeful (a sky of fluttering birds, a horse that can fly). Charlie really is okay.
And with that, I start to wonder if I can be too, if maybe my future is coming into shape with my own two hands, crooked and new, something that’s unexpected and all my own.
Fifty
“WE SHOULD BE ABLE to see some fireworks from here,” Finn says, pulling his truck to the side of the back road, right next to a field of sunflowers. All of them are closed up for the night, the blooms nodding heavily, barely able to support the weight of themselves after the sun goes down.
“Are we that close to Kings Island?” I ask, checking my watch. We have only a few more minutes until they start.
“Yeah, we should be good,” Finn says. “Come on.” He hops out of the truck, goes to the back, and climbs up. He offers me a hand, and I scoot next to him, both of us leaning against the truck cab right as the first firework explodes above us, so loud it makes me start.
“Wow,” I say, my neck angled back, watching red and blue blooms burst into existence above us.
“Just a second,” he says, opening the window to the cabin and grabbing a grass-covered old red plaid blanket from the backseat. He spreads it out.
“Lie down. It’s easier to see them this way,” he says.
With any other guy, it would be a come-on line, but with Finn, it’s what he means. So I do.
“You know, for a while after I met you, every time I looked at the sky, I wondered if I’d see Major Tom up there,” I say, watching the sky explode with silver and gold light. It reminds me of the patterns in Finn’s tunnel. “My dad finally told me the song wasn’t real, but I guess I was still hoping.”
“Sorry about that,” Finn says.
“You really loved that song, didn’t you?”
A new round of fireworks come to life, silver shimmers like stars.
“I think I just thought if I could find Major Tom, I’d be a hero, you know?” he finally says.
“Finn,” I say.
“Everyone knows my brother’s an asshole and my dad’s an asshole and his brother is too. But when I was little, I thought if I could bring Major Tom back, people would know I was different.” He looks briefly at me, then turns back to the fireworks. “It’s ridiculous, I know.”
But I get it.
Little parts of my heart break off then, for Finn, for Ruby, for Charlie, for me, for all the ways we’ve let ourselves become who people think we should be instead of who we really are.
“That’s not ridiculous,” I say, looking over at him. He won’t look at me, so I take his chin gently and turn it toward me. “That’s not ridiculous, Finn.”
His eyes hold mine, and I trace my thumb along the line of his jawbone. “You are the best person I’ve ever met,” I say, my voice soft as the night around us.
He smiles. “You’re here, Bird McCullough.”
“You’re here, Finn Casper.”
I wonder if this is what it feels like to be a helium person, your heart on the outside, vulnerable and open in the sky.
And then I forget to watch for any fireworks finale, because Finn pushes himself up and leans in to me, his lips meeting mine, tentative at first, and then, when I don’t pull away, harder, more insistent, like we’re crashing into each other, my fingers in his hair, his hands on my back, and he smells like the field, like summer and goldenrod and sweat and evening. Around us, I swear the sunflowers are opening to the fireworks, to the explosions of light above us and between us.
Fifty-One
MISS PEGGY SMILES AT an elderly man browsing through the selection of vases. He grins back.
“Only fifteen dollars. Such a bargain, no?”
“But we’ll take more,” Harriet barks from behind her. “Fifteen is just the suggested price.”
“Have you seen this one?” Ruby asks him, holding up a vase painted in brilliant shades of blues with Harriet’s black slash marks around the edges.
The fund-raiser is going better than I could have dreamed. Ruby came to help us set up and ended up enjoying the ladies and Henry so much, she offered to stay for the afternoon. We still have another two hours of the art fair to go, and there are only a few vases stamped LAPPHH left on the table (LAPPHH being the extremely eloquent name Harriet came up with for our enterprise, signifying each of our first names—Lorna, Alice, Parker, Peggy, Harriet, Henry—after having shot down Miss Peggy’s suggested name of “Flowers for Alice” on the grounds that Alice wasn’t dead and it was too corny). In fact, we’ve sold so many of our creations, Carla had to go back to the studio to get some of her vases so we didn’t completely run out of merchandise. Not to mention the fact that Carla’s e-mail sign-up list is well onto the fourth page.
Henry chuckles as Lorna pulls out a bunch of sunflowers from a box. They match her outfit today: golden yellows and warm oranges.
“They’re too big for the vases,” she says in dismay.
“Give ’em to me,” Harriet says, and when Lorna hands them over, Harriet begins hacking at the stems with a pair of blunt scissors.
“Atta girl,” Henry says as she hands him shortened sunflower stems. He stuffs them in the vases so sunflowers are bursting out the top.
Seeing the flowers makes me blush, and I busy myself with counting the money before anyone notices.
Finn and I stayed in the sunflower field well after the fireworks ended. I have mosquito bites up and down my legs, and even though it’s five days later, my lips just stopped feeling puffy from making out.
“This is going so well, Parker. And Harriet and Miss Peggy are actually getting along,” Carla says to me under her breath.
“Don’t jinx it,” I say as I finish counting the change, then look up, smiling. “Sweet. We’ve already raised more than enough for the tickets!”
“Bravo!” Carla says, and Harriet lets out a loud whoop from across our booth. Ruby claps.
“Maybe you can use the extra money to get some new glazes for the studio?” I say as I’m putting the cash in the lockbox.
“I had another idea,” Carla says.
“Yeah?”
“I was thinking we could start some art classes at Wild Meadows, for the residents who aren’t mobile enough to get to the studio, like Alice.”
“That’s awesome,” I say.
“And I know I’m losing you to Harvard this fall, but maybe you can help me get it set up before you go?” she asks.
“Really?”
“Of course! You have a gift working with these people—you’re way better with them than I am.”
I snort. “Well, it’s clear my gifts aren’t in the throwing-pottery realm.”
“Patience, Parker. You can’t be good at everything right away.”
I scoff, but inside, the idea of setting up classes with the people at Wild Meadows makes me wish I could stick around to run the program full-time.
And then a revolutionary thought sneaks into my consciousness: Maybe I can.
I stop in place, the world of the art fair buzzing around me.
The realization is like sun bursting through the clouds—all the nagging dread and heart-racing anxiety I’ve been feeling since I got the acceptance letter pushed aside by one single clear thought: I don’t have to go to Harvard.
I feel giddy, clear, and light.
I have no clue how I’d tell my parents or how I’d make it working at Carla’s, but while normally those things would paralyze me in place, the rightness of the notion—of not doing something that I don’t really want to do—is so obvious, I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to get here.
“You look pretty pleased with yourself,” Harriet says to me, nudging me in the stomach with her elbow.
“Ow,” I say.
“Oh, you’re fine. You’re stronger than you think, girl.”
“I am, aren’t I?” I ask.
“You remind me of Alice that way, before her Alzhei
mer’s kicked in,” Harriet says.
I look over at her, surprised.
“I’ve known her for the past six years, and it’s only been the last two that she started withdrawing more and more, you know.”
“I didn’t.”
“Did you know she used to be a writer? Wrote a bunch of spy thrillers. Kind of violent stuff. Tiny little lady with a core of iron on the inside. Oh, don’t look so shocked. We all had glamorous lives back in the day. I used to be a burlesque dancer in Coney Island.”
“I know,” I say.
Harriet winks at me and goes to help a girl who’s trying to decide between one of Carla’s vases—a sedate, graceful light-green glazed piece—and one of ours—raucous and clashy and mismatched.
“You definitely want this one,” Harriet says, pushing ours forward and setting Carla’s vase to the side. The girl holds it up, taking in the glaze, examining the vase at different angles.
I slide my phone out of my pocket to check the time, and that’s when I see three missed phone calls from Charlie and one from Finn, all from the past forty-five minutes. He and Charlie promised to stop by and help us clean up after the fair, but there are at least another two hours to go, not to mention the thirty minutes of last-minute stragglers I’m sure we’ll get.
I wonder what’s going on.
I look up to ask Ruby if she’s heard from either of them, but she’s talking to a customer. I move to the back of our booth where it’s a little quieter and dial Charlie.
He picks up right away. “Parker?” he asks. But the connection cuts out with a beep.
“Ugh.” I dial right back and am relieved when he picks up. “I just lost you. What’s going on?”
“Um, I was with Finn . . .” His voice cuts out for a good ten seconds. “. . . to the ER at Bethesda North.”
ER?
“What?” My vision narrows in on the overflowing trash can in front of me. “You’re cutting out. Did you say ER?”
“. . . in the ambulance . . .”
“What? Charlie, I can’t hear you!” I say louder this time, clenching the phone.
Ruby shoots a worried glance over her shoulder.
“ . . . wouldn’t stop bleeding . . . going to be okay . . .”
The phone beeps as the call drops.
“No. No. No.”
I hit redial, and the call goes straight to Charlie’s voice mail.
I hit redial again.
Ruby’s at my side.
“Can you try Charlie?” I ask, voice shaking.
As she dials, I try Finn, but he doesn’t pick up.
Ruby shakes her head. “Voice mail. What’s going on, Parker?”
My heart is racing, and I dial Charlie again, then again, sucking in air, but it’s not enough.
All my breath swoops out of me, and I’m sweating everywhere, my eyes watering, but I can’t talk. I lean against the building, my hands on my knees. My heart is coming straight up my throat, out of my body.
He was fine at the Fourth of July.
He was finally okay again.
I start gasping for breath.
But he’s not okay.
Nothing’s okay.
No matter what I do to save Charlie, it’s not enough.
“Parker?” Ruby asks, but she’s eight million miles away. I hear her bark out a sharp “Help!” and then Henry’s got my arm and is leading me to a shady spot against a store, making me sit down and rest my head between my knees.
“In and out, in and out,” he says, rubbing my back, and the small part of me that’s watching from a distance recognizes how calm he is, how he knows what he’s doing, how he was probably a very good doctor.
Ruby has my hand.
From the tent of my head against my knees, I see Carla come over. She squats down. “Parker, can I help?”
I hear Lorna ask Henry what’s going on and Harriet snapping at a passerby to mind his own business.
When my heart finally finds its way back to me, I feel mortified at the scene I’ve caused, and it takes me a second to work up the courage to look up.
“I need to get to Charlie. He’s at Bethesda Hospital,” I say.
“Is he okay?” Ruby asks, her hand squeezing mine harder.
“I don’t know.”
“Parker, you should rest a little longer,” Henry says.
“I can’t. I need to go.” I try to stand, my legs shaky.
“I’ll go with you,” Ruby says.
“Of course. I’ll take you both,” Carla says immediately. “Harriet and Lorna, can you help Miss Peggy at the booth while I drive Parker to the hospital? Ruby, can you get Parker some water?” She hands her a five.
Ruby nods, running to the refreshment booth.
“I’ll bring the car around,” Carla says.
Before they leave for the booth, Lorna smiles at me, and Harriet gives me a gentle pat on the back.
After they all leave, I can’t bear to look at Henry. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
I shake my head.
“Look at me. Look at me,” he says.
When I do, his eyes are bright, his face furrowed in concern. “I think you had a panic attack. It’s not your fault. Has this happened before?”
I nod slowly, thinking of the day I got my Harvard acceptance letter, my valedictorian speech, my first day at the internship, the night at the bridge with Finn. “But not this bad. I thought I was dying.”
“You’re not, but you should talk to someone. Are you seeing a doctor?”
I shake my head.
“I can give you some names. It can really help to talk this stuff out, Parker.”
“I don’t know.”
I hear a short honk and then see Carla waving from a car at the curb, Ruby jumping into the backseat.
“I need to go see my brother. But thanks, Henry.”
“Promise me you’ll think about it at least?”
But I can’t promise Henry that right now. I just need to get to Charlie, to make sure he’s okay.
Fifty-Two
CARLA PULLS TO THE edge, her car idling, as I finish my message to my parents. Neither of them are answering their phones, and I feel bad letting them know Charlie’s in the hospital over text, but I don’t know what other options I have.
“Are you sure I can’t go in with you guys?” Carla asks.
“We got it,” Ruby says, jumping out of the car and starting toward the door.
I unbuckle my seat belt and lean over, giving her a quick hug. “I’m fine. My parents will be on their way soon, I’m sure. Please, go back to the art fair. But, Carla, thank you.”
She hugs me back. “Anytime, Parker.”
I run into the lobby after Ruby. We dodge around people in the hallway until we reach the check-in desk of the very crowded emergency room.
“We’re here for Charlie McCullough,” Ruby says.
The nurse checks her database. “I don’t have anyone by that name.”
“It’s McCullough,” I say. “M-c-C-u-l—”
“Parker? Ruby?”
Charlie’s standing behind us, his face confused, and Ruby throws herself into his arms, scrunching her face against his chest, holding him tight.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He nods, his head down against Ruby’s. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m okay,” he says to her.
He gently separates himself, holding her shoulders and giving us a baffled look.
“I was so worried. You said ‘ambulance. . . .’ ” My words trail off as I take Charlie in. “You’re really fine?”
Understanding dawns on his face. “It’s not me. It’s Finn. Something happened at the boxing gym, and he was out for a long time. The gym manager called 911, and I came with him in the ambulance.”
Ruby gives Charlie a confused look.
“What?” I shake my head. “No.”
“The doctor said it’s a severe concussion. He’s got a broken nose, a few broken ribs.”
Charlie shakes his head. “He wasn’t in the ring. I found him on the locker room floor. The gym manager thinks someone attacked him.”
I’m pretty sure I’m going to be sick, but right then a nurse comes by, touches Charlie on the arm. “You can see your friend. One at a time.”
“I’ll go,” I say.
“Of course,” Charlie says.
Ruby lets go of him and comes over and gives me a hug.
“I’m really scared,” I whisper against her ear.
She steps back, eyes glistening. “I know. I’m here for you, okay?”
I nod, then follow the nurse down the hall into the room.
Finn’s stretched out on the bed. He looks awful. Most of his face is swollen into reds and purples, and his bottom lip is huge. There’s a cut on his cheekbone, another on his chin.
I cover my mouth with my hand, my eyes welling up.
“Bird,” he whispers with a drowsy smile. “Hey.”
“Only a few minutes,” the nurse says. “He’s on some pain medication and needs to rest.”
I pull over the chair, leaning forward, my hands in a knot.
“Who did this?” Even though I’m crying, my voice is steady. “Tell me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Did anyone call the police?”
He shakes his head.
“We should call them. Does the gym have security cameras?”
“I’m okay,” Finn whispers.
“Finn, you have broken ribs. It’s not okay.” I wipe my eyes with my arm. “I’ll go to the gym and ask them to call the police. We’ll find out who did this.”
“Parker. Please. You have to let this go,” he says, and I’m surprised at the hint of desperation I hear in his voice.
I straighten, my voice cautious. “Why should I let it go?”
He shakes his head slowly.
“Finn, tell me now, why?”
He sighs, turning his head away from me. “Maybe you should leave.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t need this right now. I don’t need you. I want you to go.” His voice is distant, like he’s in space, like he’s Major Tom leaving the rest of us behind.
