A big one landed on my shoulder. Then on Bluish, right on her arm. It was humongous!
“Max, Max! Look on Bluish!”
Bluish’s eyes got great big. Her face lit up, man! She looked so happy.
“It’s all blue!” she said.
“It’s way big, too,” Tuli said. “Ho-ney don’t bring it near me. I’ll scream if you do.” But I watched Bluish. Her face filled. She was all happy. Butterfly giant.
Max says, reading: “It’s a Blue Morpho with a b-i-i-i-g wingspan. It’s a big butterfly!”
They told us not to brush the butterflies off us. Let them walk off or lead them onto a plant. Or we could hurt them.
“Butterflies are poisonous, toxic, most of them.” Max was reading it.
Bluish stares at the Blue Morpho as it finds a plant. Looking so far away now. But I read her. I didn’t look. Knew she was thinking, “Me, Bluish, toxic me.”
“That don’t mean nothing. You weren’t born that way.” I told it to the air.
The Morpho fluttered its wings open, then half-closed, like breathing out and in. Bluish wobbled. I got her chair for her. Her mom helped her and took Bluish out to the Great Hall.
I stayed in to watch all kinds—a Zebra Swallowtail that looked like the animal. Orange ones and one little red-rimmed one. I read a pamphlet about all the butterflies. I’m going to put it up in my room so I’ll know. Willie’s going to want one, so I took two. I like the Isabella Tiger butterfly. It’s so dainty. The Monarch looks small next to the big Blue Morpho.
There’s something scary about that Morpho. Like it bites, maybe. All so bright and deadly, maybe. Border all black.
Going through the vivarium, all of us, didn’t take more than an hour. You can’t stand the humidity longer than 15 minutes. I gave a last look to the tropics. Giant green plants and a giant Blue Morpho.
Well, it was sure something. From egg to caterpillar to pupa—when the caterpillar doesn’t eat or move. It rests and becomes an adult. The bitter/butter/fly!
We don’t have time for the nature shop outside the vivarium. Shoot. But whoop! I got an idea … guess what?
CHAPTER SEVEN
All Us
CHRISTMAS WAS NICE FOR Dreenie, but not the best thing she could think of. She never got what she really wanted. Willie got clothes, and things for her Game Boy. She got a really nice doll. Dreenie got a Barbie. She got the jeans she wanted. She got boots. They always got games from relatives.
It was all nice, she thought. I helped decorate our tree two days before Christmas. But you don’t always get what you want.
She and Tuli waited to go back to Bluish’s house before they all exchanged gifts. It was now two days after Christmas. Bluish had been out of town for the holiday.
They were at Bluish’s house, in her room. They’d returned from the African Market at a near uptown school. The market had been fun: bright, colorful decorations, music and games, food. Bluish and her dad went with Dreenie and her dad, and Tuli. Next, both of Bluish’s parents, Bluish, and Tuli would go over to Dreenie’s house.
Dreenie had gotten Tuli different bands and clips for her hair. They came in a painted box. And Tuli tried them on, deftly pulling her hair back, up, or to the side. She looked in the mirror and smiled at herself.
Bluish’s eyes nearly popped out of her head when she opened her present from Dreenie. “Oh! Oh! Wow!” she said. “Where did …?”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s so cool, Dreen!”
It was the Blue Morpho, painted and crafted from a kind of plastic that felt soft and smooth. Dreenie had found it in the nature shop when she and her mom and dad took Willie to see the butterflies. “It looks exactly like the real one. Exactly the same size! I love it!” Bluish said. “Thank you, thank you!”
But no one was more surprised than Dreenie when she opened up her holiday gift from Bluish. “How’d you know?” Dreenie asked.
“Well, you didn’t talk about anything else after the field trip,” Bluish said.
It was the Isabella Tiger model, the butterfly Dreenie had liked best.
“Wow,” Dreenie said. “Cool! I’m going to hang it in my room so it looks like it’s flying.” The Isabella Tiger wasn’t as large as the Blue Morpho. Something about it reminded Dreenie of a lady’s delicate fan.
“I’m going to hang mine, too,” Bluish said.
Tuli powdered her face, using the compact Bluish had given her for Christmas. “The powder smells good,” she said. “It’s just my color, too.”
Tuli had given Bluish and Dreenie each a CD of Christmas music. And now, Bluish’s CD was playing in the living room, where everyone in the house could hear it. They listened as Nat “King” Cole sang, “Merry Christmas, toooo you. …”
“My dad loves Christmas music,” Bluish said.
“So does my mom,” Dreenie said.
Tuli eyed them. “You don’t like the CDs as much as you like the butterfly presents,” she said.
“Oh, yes we do, too,” Dreenie said. Everything was a test with Tuli.
Bluish said, “When I look at the Morpho, I feel like I can go anywhere and do anything. But I can’t hear it! I can hear the Christmas music.”
“Yeah! That’s right!” Tuli said, but then she asked, “Is seeing better than hearing?”
“Tuli, stop,” Dreenie told her. “All our presents are just right, so quit it.”
“Anyway, you have the best coat of anybody,” Bluish said. “I got a duffel coat for my Hanukkah-Christmas.” She smiled. “I asked for it. My dad says I’m ‘earthy-crunchy,’ like my mom. He means I like outdoor stuff, winter and summer.”
Dreenie got good presents for Christmas, but not what she really wanted. She didn’t talk about it, but she said, “Nobody has a coat like yours, Tuli. Leather, with a real fake-fur collar? I mean, nobody but you!”
“I know it,” Tuli said, delighted. “Never thought they’d get me something like this.” She still had the coat on. It fit her perfectly, with the fur up close around her neck.
Tuli paraded up and down the room in her coat. She took the Blue Morpho out of its box and danced with it. Her bright hair sprang and tumbled around her face as she tossed her head.
Dreenie snatched the Morpho from her and pitched it over to Bluish on her bed. “It doesn’t belong to you,” she said to Tuli.
“I wasn’t going to hurt it,” Tuli said, flopping down in a chair.
Tuli’s the prettiest, Dreenie thought. “That coat makes you look like a movie star,” Dreenie told her.
“I wish I could look like that,” Bluish said. “I don’t look like much of nothing.”
“Hey, I think you look good,” Dreenie was quick to say to Bluish.
“I do, too,” Tuli said.
Bluish lay curled sideways on her bed, her head on two pillows. “I always have to lie down, still.”
“Yeah, but you walk more,” Tuli said.
“Then I get tired longer,” Bluish said. “I feel better. …” She laced the large Blue Morpho through her fingers. But she didn’t sound convinced. She sat up. “Listen, I hear my dad.” Her dad was calling them. They headed down the hall. Bluish held on to a wooden bar along the wall. Dreenie had never seen anything like it before.
Bluish’s mom stood by the door in a long, black duffel coat with a green plaid lining. She’d taken it out of the hall closet and put it on. She had Bluish’s coat over her arm. She was beautiful in a grown-up way. Different from Tuli, Dreenie thought. I’d sure like to be looking gorgeous like her someday. She has on nice makeup, too.
Dreenie’s dad had stayed a while, talking. He had brought them from the market. Mr. Winburn was saying that if he drove them home, Dreenie’s dad wouldn’t have to drive them back. And he said that he could take Tuli home, too. So it was agreed. They would go to Dreenie’s house in two cars. Dreenie had felt jealous that Mr. Winburn offered Tuli a ride home. She didn’t know why, exactly. Don’t be like that, she told herself. She got to ride in Bluish’s car. “You get
to ride home with them later,” she murmured to Tuli, “so let me ride with Bluish now.” Tuli didn’t mind riding with Dreenie’s dad, so long as she got to go, and be with everybody.
Not many people on West End Avenue, Dreenie noticed, as they drove. It was cold out, but not snowy. What people she saw were all bundled up, dressed up in holiday clothes, she guessed. Christmas is for family; so is Hanukkah, she was thinking. I’m glad it’s gone, though.
“Did you have fun at your grandmother’s?” Dreenie asked quietly, only for Bluish to hear. They sat together in the backseat of the Winburns’ car.
Bluish made a face. “My grandma hovers, like a helicopter,” Bluish told her, right in her ear. “Mummy tells her, ‘Don’t hover over Natalie. She doesn’t like it.’ I hate it!”
“Guess she worries about you,” Dreenie said.
“She keeps telling me how skinny I am. And made me weigh myself. I didn’t want her to see so I got off the scale before she could. Mummy was mad. I don’t weigh much! Mummy told Grandma that we would leave if she didn’t stop. Grandma presses on my arms and shoulders. I don’t have any fat, and it hurts—my bones …”
“Sorry you didn’t have a good time.”
“Well, I did, mostly,” Bluish said. “I got nice things for Hanukkah My mom’s relatives came. Aunt Millie and Uncle David, Mummy’s brother. They have two boys, older. One’s a freshman in college. They’re always really nice to me. They talked to me like … like I am a person … not a sick person.”
“We had fifteen people for Christmas dinner,” Dreenie said. “My mom’s sister came from Long Island City with her family. And my cousins came,” Dreenie said. “Just my family. Not Tuli.”
“You like Tuli? She had somewhere else to go?” asked Bluish.
“I like her. But it was Christmas. I … don’t like having to take care of her so much. I can’t help worrying about her granmom. They went to her aunt’s.”
Bluish stared at Dreenie. “You worry about me, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but that’s different.”
“You worry about me because I’m sick.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“No! I mean, I want to help—I mean, be your friend.”
“You don’t want to help Tuli?”
Dreenie sighed, and thought about it. “I wish she didn’t need me all the time. I wish she’d depend on herself. Maybe I’m wrong …”
Bluish had been looking right into Dreenie’s face. Now she looked straight ahead. “I think you and I are a lot alike,” she said.
“I think so, too,” Dreenie said. “My mom says you have to care about people, if you want people to care about you.”
“When I was real sick, I thought I didn’t care about anything,” Bluish said. “I thought for sure I wanted everything to be over.” She stopped. “Let’s not—” She broke off, looking out the window. Her mood had changed.
Dreenie tried smiling, humming Christmas music. But Bluish frowned and leaned farther away. She stared out the window the rest of the time, leaving Dreenie wondering what she’d done wrong.
At the apartment, Dreenie’s mom had everything really nice. Willie stood in the doorway as they came in. She looked cute in her Christmas jeans and new sweater. New Air Jordans.
“Everybody, we have to do introductions!” Willie announced loudly.
“Oh, Willie! Mom, tell her to calm down.” Dreenie was completely embarrassed. They weren’t even out of their coats.
“Dreen, it’s okay. Willie, help take people’s coats,” her mom said.
Mrs. Winburn was smiling. “Hi, Willie,” she said. “Merry Christmas.”
“Hi, Mrs. Winburn. Happy Hanukkah!” Willie said, like she said the greeting every day. Maybe she did, Dreenie thought. Nothing shy about Willie!
Dreenie’s dad introduced her mom to Bluish’s mom and dad.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Anneva,” Dreenie’s mom said, extending her hand to the Winburns.
“And I’m Natalie,” Bluish said to Dreenie’s mom. She was standing. Mr. Winburn folded her chair and lay it in a corner. “All the kids like to call me Bluish!” Bluish said. She glanced at her mom and shook hands with Dreenie’s mom.
“I’m glad to meet you, Natalie. I like your hat!” Dreenie’s mom said. “I heard you made them for all the kids in your class. That’s just great!”
Mrs. Winburn smiled, pleased.
They all took off their coats for Willie and Dreenie to carry to the bedroom. Everyone had a chance to admire Tuli’s new coat before she took it off. There was something about Tuli that made you want to give her compliments, Dreenie decided.
Her mom was saying how great the coat looked on Tuli. “I wish I could get a coat to look like that on me!” They all laughed.
They went to the living room. The table was set, and they would have food later. Next, Dreenie’s mom explained to everyone that Kwanzaa was a new celebration for them. One that was fun and interesting. “We always celebrate Christmas. This is something new and informative. We light seven candles.”
“We light candles for the Hanukkah holidays,” Bluish said. “It’s my mom’s tradition. We have Christmas, too.”
“I like the idea of candles even when it’s not a holiday celebration,” Dreenie’s mom said. And she began by lighting the black candle in the center of the kinara of the Kwanzaa candelabra. “This represents Umoja, the first principle of Kwanzaa,” her mom said. “It means unity and helps us work together in our family, in our community, and in our nation.”
“That’s very important,” Mrs. Winburn said.
“I like that the best,” Willie said.
Dreenie’s mom and dad both took up explaining how the red and green candles and the black one in the center symbolized the seven principles of Kwanzaa. They tried not to sound as if they were giving a lesson, but they did. Mr. and Mrs. Winburn, Bluish, Tuli, Willie, and Dreenie all got to light a candle. As they did, Dreenie’s dad told them what each candle stood for. “Ujima, the first candle, work and responsibility. Kujichagulia, the first red candle, for self-determination. All these words are Swahili words. This is a seven-day ceremony starting on December 26 and going through January 1. By lighting all the candles, we demonstrate the ceremony and the meaning.”
“It has many parts,” Dreenie’s mom continued. “It’s a celebration of past, present, and future. A proverb is often quoted: ‘I am because we are; because we are, I am.’”
“Oh, that’s lovely,” Mrs. Winburn said.
Her mom and dad explained more until, finally, her mom said, “I’ll leave the candles burning. Let’s have dinner! You all come to the table.”
Everybody oohed and ahhhed over the dinner. Her mom had called and invited Bluish’s family to come. The dinner was like a traditional holiday feast. Lots of food, only instead of turkey, there were breaded herring filets. Baked chicken. Wonderful baked corn. Salad, white beans and red beans, and black-eyed peas. Cake and ice cream.
“Have you ever seen children pile their plates so high?” Dreenie’s dad said.
At first, Bluish seemed hungry. She ate the fish and corn. She didn’t want salad. She had a tablespoonful of the white beans.
“You did good!” Willie told Bluish.
“You did!” Dreenie told her.
“It smells so good!” Bluish said. But she didn’t smile. She stared at all of them, their heaping plates. And looked as if she might be getting sick.
Her mom kept her lips tightly sealed and tried not to watch her daughter.
No one expected Willie, Dreenie, Tuli, and Bluish to sit and talk with their parents over coffee. In their room, Willie showed them her different Game Boy games. Bluish sat in a chair. She looked tired. “You can lie on my bed,” Dreenie said.
“I don’t need to,” spoken almost in a whisper.
“Yes, you do,” Dreenie said.
“Here, I gonna carry you,” Tuli said, joking lightly. Bluish didn’t object to Tuli and Dreenie helping her o
ut of the chair.
“I coulda done it by myself!” Bluish said. Her mouth turned down. Her face screwed up, as if she had a bad taste in her mouth. She lay still on her back on the pillows. Willie closed the door. “You feel bad?” Dreenie asked her. She came over and kneeled beside the bed.
Tears seeped out of the corners of Bluish’s eyes. “Not the way you think I feel bad,” she said. And then she cried with her mouth wide open. It was an awful-sounding cry.
“What hurts you?” Dreenie asked, alarmed. “Please don’t cry!”
“Shall I call her mom?” Tuli asked.
“No, don’t,” Bluish said, gasping. “I get like this. …”
They waited, watching her. Willie came up, touched Bluish on her cap.
Dreenie got some tissues. Bluish wiped her face with them. “It … takes just so long, to get like you guys again.”
“Are you going to die?” Willie asked.
“Willie!” Dreenie was outraged. She almost slapped her little sister. Made a move to do something to her, when Bluish said, “Don’t. It’s okay.”
“You ain’t gonna die, no time,” Tuli said. “Nuh-uh, ho-ney, not with us around!”
Dead silence. And then, Bluish giggled. Dreenie laughed. Tuli always could make them laugh.
“We won’t let anything bad happen to you,” Dreenie said with a lump in her throat. She nearly cried herself. She held Bluish’s trembling hands, so small and bony.
“Let’s make a pact!” Willie said.
“Yeah!” Tuli said. “How you do that?”
“I know,” Dreenie said at once. “Everybody hold hands.”
Bluish turned somewhat on her side. Dreenie and Tuli held her hands, and held Willie’s. Suddenly, it came to Dreenie. The proverb her mom had recited sounded in her mind. Dreenie made one for them: “Bluish is, because we are; we are, because Bluish—is—us!”
“We, us,” Willie said.
“We, us.” They all said it.
Bluish whispered it, “We, us.” Then they lifted their hands and let go.
They stayed in the room, close, talking, sometimes laughing. Bluish sat up. She didn’t look at them. Then she reached up and took off her knit cap.
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