Bird

by Crystal Chan

  “You didn’t even try to understand,” I repeated, my hands clenching into fists. “You never wanted me. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

  Dad swallowed.

  “I’m leaving,” I announced, heading to the door.

  “Jewel, we need to talk about this,” Mom said.

  “No,” I said.

  Dad put his hand on my shoulder. “Just sit down.”

  “Don’t touch me!” I screamed, and I jumped back from him as if I were a wild animal.

  Grandpa stepped to my side, his eyes blazing. He nodded his chin at the door. I’ll go with you.

  Silence.

  Mom and Dad looked at each other for a long time, sending each other thoughts with their eyes.

  “Be home by supper,” Mom said. Her voice was heavy.

  I stormed outside, Grandpa keeping up with me. He didn’t say anything, of course, but there wasn’t really anything to say. What could he have possibly done? How could there be all this distance in a group of people who lived together under one roof?

  I had never, ever felt so alone.

  “It’s not fair, Grandpa,” I whispered.

  He stopped then on the gravel road and hugged me right there, and in the way he hugged me I could tell he wanted to reach right into my heart and give it a tight squeeze, making the sadness drip out like dirty soap water from a sponge. The thing was, it didn’t work.

  I don’t want someone’s pity, I realized, my back muscles tightening up. Not even Grandpa’s. In that awful instant, I knew I would never get what I wanted: I wanted them to understand how important the circle was, how special the cliff was, that I wanted to be a geologist and dig for arrowheads and be me.

  But they wouldn’t ever do that. Not even Grandpa. In fact, he’d be the first to stop me from going to the cliff.

  A crevasse, wide and dark, opened up in my chest and oaths flowed from it: I don’t care anymore about making people happy. I don’t need anyone. From now on, I’m going to do what I want.

  Grandpa suddenly stepped back from me. Eugene wasn’t too far away, walking toward us. Grandpa’s jaw tightened, and I could almost see his great, feeling heart shut down, like that big hug he’d given me never happened. Grandpa would never accept Eugene. And that made me even angrier.

  “Hey,” I called to Eugene.

  Grandpa grabbed my elbow.

  I shot Grandpa a look. “Eugene’s not a duppy, you know,” I said, jerking my elbow away.

  Eugene waved back awkwardly. And for the best friend that he is, Eugene would never accept Grandpa, either. Or understand how duppies ruined our life.

  Grandpa’s face was twisting up, mad.

  The crevasse inside me grew, splitting open wider.

  “Eugene is not a duppy,” I said to Grandpa again, louder. I was sure Eugene could hear me.

  “Hey, Jewel,” Eugene called out. He stopped maybe ten paces away. “And Grandpa,” he added tightly before turning back to me. “I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out.”

  Grandpa’s eyes got squinty. He started pulling me away, down the road, back to our house. And I knew it was because he was trying to protect me and all, but I yanked my arm away for a second time and headed to Eugene. Grandpa hurried after me and tried to pull me, grabbing the top of my T-shirt, revealing the gold necklace chain beneath.

  Grandpa gasped.

  I spun on Grandpa. “Stop it!”

  Eugene looked embarrassed. “I can come back later—”

  “I’m sick of this!” I screamed at both of them.

  I ran, my feet spinning toward the cliff. This was the cliff who saw Bird jump, who held my pebbles, gave me my stones, watched those stones fall. Like a magnet it pulled me there, and I raced to it like a bird flying home.

  Eugene shot off after me, but I was faster this time. I tore off the road and cut through the cornfields. The rows of corn were taller than me now, hiding me, their dark and yet glowing tassels ready and ripe. They watched me burst from the fields and into the tall prairie grasses, heavy with seeds and eternity. My feet carried me like a vortex of wind, sweeping me onto the footpath and toward the cliff.

  My lungs weren’t working hard, not even strained. I nearly flew on the path, my feet light, barely touching. Eugene was behind me, his own feet grinding the tiny stones and twigs deeper into the earth. In no time, the footpath broke through to the cliff, and I sprinted past my pebbles and the gaping space where my circle of stones used to be.

  I reached the boulder way before him. And the handholds were there, one after one, just as I knew they would be. My fingers became claws of steel, my feet became spikes, and I climbed up the rugged surface of the rock. It wouldn’t be long now before Eugene would get to the cliff, I knew, and I climbed up faster than ever before. My powerful legs pushed me up, up, up, past the ledge where Eugene and I had sat; hand over hand I neared the safety point, the point after which the rock turned into smooth, worn skin and the handholds mere dimples, the point where I had always turned back.

  But I wasn’t going to turn back now. How could I? I was going to climb to the top of the boulder, and I didn’t need Eugene’s or anyone else’s help. I didn’t need anyone at all. And once I got to the top, I would fly, just like Bird. That would make Mom and Dad finally see me. And if they’d get sad and upset, it would be their fault. They threw my stones off the cliff, and my stones were a part of me, so why shouldn’t I go too?

  Eugene burst through to the cliff, leaping over my pebbles, dashing to the boulder. “Jewel!” he cried, propelling himself up the granite rock. “Please stop!”

  There was no way I was going to stop. High above the safety point, the handholds were even worse than I thought, and the tips of my shoes scraped against the rock, trying to find purchase. But strangely, my fingers and forearms and legs weren’t even tired yet—it was as if some tingling energy had infused my blood—and just the slightest indentation was enough to keep climbing, enough for me to throw my weight upon. I had never known this feeling before, this sense of absolute power and control over my destiny.

  I was invincible.

  Eugene had reached the sitting ledge by now and was frantically searching for the handholds I’d used. “Come on, Jewel!” Eugene shouted. “Don’t do this!” I looked down to see his face all contorted, more frightened than I’d ever seen him before.

  I didn’t say anything. Not even Eugene was going to stop me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eugene lunge for a handhold—not the one I had used, not as good—and then stretch for his next one. “Go away!” I shouted down at him. Then I got a little wobbly and wrenched my eyes back to my own handholds. The top of the boulder was maybe twenty more feet up, and I knew Eugene was gaining on me. I was going to tell him that I had seen the path he was taking and it was going to get him stuck, but just then I found my next little dimple in the rock, the next slight curve to press the edge of my foot on, and looking just a bit farther I could see the faint path to get to the—

  “Jewel!” Eugene screamed—a scream raw and primal. My heart seized as I heard the slightest sound of fingers slipping. I looked back just in time to see the curve of his hands still stiff but this time holding on to nothing; I saw his eyes widen, huge and white against the black of his face, eyes of terror that fixed on mine, his mouth open in an O—

  And then he fell backward, into the sky.

  “John!” I shrieked, and it came from some deep, dark place.

  His body seemed to hang in the air for a moment, so helpless, so about to be pulled down by gravity and forces and everything else that’s out there that we can’t see. And while he was hanging, suspended in the air, Grandpa broke through on the footpath, running, and saw the falling boy and heard me shouting “John!” and his mouth opened and this time a contorted, anguished animal squeal came from that throat. And then I watched Eugene fall. I watched his body fall through the sky and hit the ground at the base of the boulder.

  And I heard Grandpa screaming. />
  I was screaming something too as I ran all the way to Mr. Williamson’s place, the part-time paramedic, whose house was closest to the cliff, screaming something about John and the cliff and fell. I don’t know why, but he stared at me for a long time—too long—like I was crazy, like John was already dead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  FINALLY, though, Mr. Williamson did move from his doorway, but only when I was able to sputter it out. “Eugene, not John.” Then Mr. Williamson slapped his pockets like a madman, looking for his keys, and we hopped in his truck and raced to the cliff. He’d already called 911, but with the cliff being so far out, it would take them a while to get there.

  He didn’t look at me the whole time. Not once. His shoulders were hunched up to his ears.

  My mouth couldn’t stop moving. “And he didn’t mean to fall, but I saw him fall and he’s at the base of the boulder right now, and he was so scared and it’s all my fault—” My breath was coming in short bursts, in and out, until I started to see sparkly lights at the corners of my vision.

  “Jewel, breathe slower,” Mr. Williamson said. “You’re going to pass out if you don’t watch it. I’ll see what I can do.” He was telling me this in his professional voice. Then he veered off County Line Road and plowed over the footpath. When we got there, Grandpa was bent over Eugene, knees on the earth. Eugene wasn’t moving. Grandpa scrambled to his feet and ran to us.

  Mr. Williamson hopped out of his truck and grabbed his first-aid kit from the backseat. “How far did he fall?” he asked me.

  “Thirty feet,” Grandpa said. His voice was a hoarse whisper, like a bad case of strep throat or maybe a rusty hinge, but there it was. His voice.

  Mr. Williamson’s eyes got big.

  “From there,” Grandpa continued, pointing to the place above the ledge. Grandpa stopped, watching Mr. Williamson watch him. “Well? Do something!”

  Mr. Williamson ran over to Eugene, knelt on the ground with his bag, and leaned over him. My heart felt like it was going to explode. I looked at Mr. Williamson, who was getting out his tools, and at Grandpa, who was talking to the unconscious Eugene. Talking. And amid the awfulness, I laughed.

  Looking back, I guess I could say that the curse on Grandpa’s mouth was lifted that day, but why Dad couldn’t lift it or Granny or me or even Grandpa himself, I’ll never know. All I do know is that special things happen in special places, and sometimes mysteries are just that. But really, special places are everywhere. I think a place can be special simply because it is—it was special since the beginning of time and will be until the end, like the cliff—and other times a place can be special because of what we do when we’re there.

  Take the hospital, for instance. When the ambulance got Eugene to the hospital and the doctors rushed him away, Grandpa himself got on a guest phone and called Mom and Dad, telling them to come. Well, I think that just made the hospital a pretty special place, and that phone a pretty special phone.

  For days Grandpa and I traveled the forty miles each way to wait for Eugene’s collarbone to be fixed, along with his rib and his arm, and then for the X-rays so doctors could see everything on the inside. During the driving and waiting, while I can’t say Grandpa was chatty, he certainly seemed like it considering he hadn’t spoken a word in twelve years. Saying things like “How are you holding up, Jewel?” and “Want to bring out those dominoes?” Each time he spoke, his words grew stronger, more solid and anchored, like someone had wiped them off and found that beneath the thin layer of dust was a mountain of granite.

  A good rain fell during those days, tapping at the windows of the waiting room. Mr. McLaren waited with us. He didn’t say much and didn’t sit that close, but given that I nearly killed his nephew, I couldn’t blame him. Mr. McLaren checked on Eugene whenever he could, letting us know he was on the mend. Also, he said, Eugene’s parents were on their way. There was a big storm out East that was holding up their flight, but they were coming.

  I froze when Mr. McLaren told me that. What could I possibly say to Eugene’s parents? That I had felt invincible and didn’t think about their son, who almost died trying to save me? Shame wrapped itself around my heart, and the power I’d felt while climbing the boulder sputtered away.

  That same afternoon the nurses decided Eugene could have visitors. It wasn’t too exciting, though, because he mostly slept the entire time. Eugene looked so different in his hospital bed, so skinny and not strong at all. He couldn’t even lift his head when he saw us.

  It was hard to see him all weak and helpless because I knew for a fact Eugene wouldn’t want anyone to see him like that. And it was even harder because I knew the only reason he got hurt was because he was trying to help me, to convince me to come back down. If I hadn’t climbed up, none of this would have happened.

  And strangely, even though he got hurt for me, I hurt everywhere, battered inside; even though Bird and I were a close binary system, I guess Eugene and I were too. I didn’t think people could be close binary systems with more than one person, but maybe they can if they’re really, really lucky. If folks have people around them like that, then no one would want to go off into space and never come back.

  The next day in the waiting room, someone tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Yes?” I asked, turning around.

  It was Mr. McLaren, with two people standing next to him. The man’s light brown hair fell over his glasses, like he needed a haircut but was too busy to notice. The woman, of course, was pregnant.

  “Jewel,” Mr. McLaren said, “these are Eugene’s parents.”

  I stood up and took a deep breath. “Hello,” I said politely. “Nice to meet you.” I stuck out my hand, trying to be grown-up and all. Then to my horror, I burst into tears. How could I have done this to them? All I wanted was to be understood and yet I hurt everyone, disappointed everyone—if no one spoke to me ever again, I wouldn’t blame them, not in a million years.

  That’s why I was surprised when I heard sniffling. I looked up at them and saw Eugene’s mom brushing away her own tears. Eugene’s dad’s face was solemn. His back was stick straight.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to.”

  They stood there awkwardly in front of me, and then to my surprise, Eugene’s dad’s shoulders caved in, and he started crying too. Eugene’s mom hugged him, and they cried on each other for a long time.

  Then, to my even greater surprise, Eugene’s mom turned to me and included me in their hug, with Eugene’s dad wrapping his big arms around us both. They had a funny smell to them, like a stuck-in-an-airport smell, which made me feel even worse. They had stopped their lives because of me.

  “We were terrified when Tim called us,” Eugene’s dad said when we all pulled away. His voice was surprisingly deep for such a skinny guy.

  I nodded mournfully. What could I say?

  “We love Eugene so much,” his mom added, her words still weepy. Her hand rested on her round belly.

  I swallowed. “I’m sorry,” I whispered again.

  “You can’t undo this, Jewel,” his dad said, shaking his head. “We have to live with the mistakes we make.” He paused. “I’m sure you won’t forget this for a long time.”

  I looked at my shoes. Not until the day I die.

  His face softened. “But really, Jewel, we have to thank you.”

  I looked up, confused. “Thank me for what?”

  His mom gave a sad smile. “We know Eugene’s been having such a hard time. We really didn’t know what to do anymore.”

  Eugene’s dad shot her an embarrassed look and shoved his hands in his pockets in just the same way that Eugene would do. Then he seemed to recover and pushed his glasses back up his nose and took a deep breath. “Eugene’s really changed this summer, and for the better.” He shifted uncomfortably. “When we saw him just now, he could only ask about you.” His lips twitched.

  His mom nodded. “We’ve made mistakes too,” she added, blushing. “You’ve been a very valuable
friend, Jewel.”

  I studied the green flower designs on her shoes. His parents obviously didn’t know those awful things I had shouted to Eugene when I found out about his name.

  His dad cleared his throat. “And I must say, our son picked an intelligent young lady for a friend.” I must have had a confused look on my face, because he added, “Eugene’s told us about you. You’re going to be a famous geologist one day, with all that knowledge in your head.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “It’s hard to impress our son.”

  A warmth filled me up from head to toe. I mean, Eugene said I’d make a great scientist, but I never thought he’d talk to his parents about me. I glanced at Grandpa; he looked proud too. Eugene’s parents followed my gaze. “This is my grandpa,” I said.

  Eugene’s mom tucked a blond curl behind her ear. “Jewel’s a fine girl,” she said.

  “Good seeds turn into good trees,” Grandpa said.

  I’d never heard that expression before, but I liked it.

  The night before Eugene was going to leave the hospital, we were hanging out in his hospital room, making the bed go up and down. “Hey, Jewel,” Eugene said, “you want some of my meat loaf?” He poked at it with his fork.

  “No,” I replied. “It’s too much like Mom’s cooking.”

  He grinned, and I grinned too, until I remembered that Mom didn’t cook anymore. Then I sighed.

  Eugene studied my face. “You’re thinking about your mom, right?”

  I nodded.

  “I knew it!” He smiled. “You see? I’m psychic.”

  “No,” I said. “You’re a—what’s the name of the other star in a close binary system?”

  Eugene’s eyes got serious. “A companion star.”

  I snapped my fingers. “That’s it. You’re my companion star.”

  We listened to the humming of the machines, to the squeaking of the nurses’ sneakers as they walked by. I was startled when Eugene grabbed my hand, but it was the kind of startle you get when you receive a gift you didn’t expect. We sat there holding hands for a long time, connected like those stars.