The Ship We Built
Page 13
I put one foot into the recycling bin, and felt the crush. I wondered if it would have been possible to drown in there, to get swallowed whole.
Suddenly, Sofie grabbed my wrist. She held on tighter than any of the twenty-something handholds we’ve ever had. I didn’t even know that she stayed behind for me. She didn’t have to especially since I didn’t even give her a real valentine yet and I ignored her for characters in a chapter book. Heck, I tried to leave her behind when she has been having the hardest of times. She deserves much better than me. Before I could think another bad thing about myself, she cried out, “Rowan, you have to get out of there. The janitor could come and take you away forever.”
I guess forever is a long time to be gone.
I’m trying my best to learn how to stay, and not get so lost in my scribbles. It just feels like I’ll never know how to celebrate anything ever again, including the weekends. What kind of person can’t even celebrate the weekends? I looked back into the pile of papers that filled the recycling bin, most of them were mine.
Sofie held on to my wrist until both of my feet were back safe on the ground. I wanted to say sorry for scaring her. I wanted to say sorry for being so far away and lying about being okay every time I put a rock on her porch. I didn’t though. I didn’t know how without making myself feel even stupider. She kept hold of my hand and said, “You are irreplaceable.” She sounded kind of mad when she said that. I understand why she would be.
She opened the classroom door and I kept my eyes to the tile. I feel bad about saying this, but I still couldn’t stop thinking about how good it would be to disappear.
It was the first time Sofie and I walked home together in a while. We were mostly quiet trying to avoid the black ice or maybe saying the wrong thing. I held my breath for half the time just praying that my parents didn’t drive by and see us. The trees almost looked like empty hands reaching up to the sky without their leaves. Just about a block before Sofie and I went our own separate ways, she asked, “Is there anywhere you want to live when you become a grown-up?”
At first, I thought it was a silly question because I don’t know any adults who I want to grow up to be like. Even so, Sofie said, “We’re going to live for a long, long time, so we should think about it.” I’m not so sure about that either, but she tried again by asking, “So what would our house look like?”
Don’t you know she said our house, which means together. I hope that means that she forgives me. I closed my eyes trying really extra hard to imagine it, what a good home could be.
I told Sofie, “I would really love to live in a house on top of a big hill one day.” I didn’t mention this part to her, but high up is the best place to let go of balloons. I was thinking maybe Mont Ripley because there already are yellow chair-lifts and little wood sheds up there, or maybe something closer to where Richard lives, like Sugarloaf Mountain. Either way, Sofie pulled an empty carton of chocolate milk from her backpack and placed it on top of her black curls. She giggled as it sat perfectly between her pigtails.
She said, “That would be so great. We just have to find a milk carton big enough to fit you, me, my parents, and Viivi too.” She laughed some more and said, “Until then, you can live in the carton on top of my head. I promise to give the best possible views of the playground.” She spun around in a circle as if to show me the whole wide world. I will never ever forget that promise. One day, our house will have electricity, a playroom with stained-glass windows, and maybe a movie theater with red seats too.
I didn’t want to stop thinking about this home together, but Sofie had to get back to her real home to help her mom babysit. She handed me the milk carton and said, “We’ll be okay as long as we have our house.” Then the two of us shook pinkie and decided it would be best if I kept it close for now.
The milk carton fit perfectly in the front of my brown overalls, but the views probably weren’t as good as the top of Sofie’s head. Mom must have seen it peeking out of my pocket, though. As soon as I got home, she told me that the carton needed to go in the trash. Instead, I went straight upstairs and hid it under my bed. I know that I buy chocolate milk almost every week at school, but this one was different.
But only an hour later, Mom peeked her head into my room and told me again, “That carton has got to go.” I don’t know why Mom suddenly cared so much about what happens in my room anyways. She went to bed early looking mad about it. Dad didn’t come in my room to say good night either. He just stayed downstairs extra late with his shows. Having the carton made me feel safer than ever. I felt so good that I had a dream about flying over the playground. I was flying higher than the jungle gym and the maple tree, and I waved to everyone below. Some kids even smiled and waved back, including the ones who I never thought would.
At exactly seven o’clock this morning, Mom walked inside of my room again without knocking. I heard the door creek open, and watched her moose T-shirt between the light cracks of my quilt. I held my breath so still so that she wouldn’t know that I was awake. Why do parents think that kids don’t notice things? She was holding a noisy plastic bag from Kmart, and her white socks stepped right over my obstacle course of notebooks, rocks, and dirty laundry that I made around my bed.
She threw my milk carton in the bag, made a grossed-out noise, and walked away. I closed my eyes tight. All I could think about was how bad it would feel to tell Sofie what happened after we had just made up. Mom could have recycled it. That way, I could have at least dreamed about all the ways that milk carton could come back to me.
I’m sorry to say this, but at exactly eight o’clock, the garbage truck came to our house. It was green and the brakes squeaked super loud. I have never felt so sad looking out my bedroom window before. The garbage man threw the bags into the back of the truck with a bad clanky noise, like what was inside never mattered once. It mattered to me, but everybody decided it was just trash.
You know, I bet that garbage truck was full of things that other parents on my block didn’t understand. Imagine how many valentines and milk cartons are in there. Landfills are supposed to be full of replaceable things, but I bet they’re not. I’ve never actually been to the dump before, but I heard that the piles are bigger and taller than any houses I have ever seen. Even Canada brings their trash here. I don’t know, I really wish I hid my milk carton better, just like everything else.
I have never said this out loud before, but I think Sofie is irreplaceable too. I hope I can find her a good valentine. In the meantime, I’m trying really, really hard to be okay and maybe turn in my homework on time.
Ellie
Thursday, February 19, 1998
Hi,
The recycling bin at school is now empty, it’s as if nothing happened at all. I’m trying my very best to look on the bright side of things. For example, we got to play stuck in the muck in gym class. It’s like a really fun version of tag where we all get to crawl under each other’s legs like we’re all friends. Our school also had a fire drill and everybody lived. Also, things aren’t looking good for Cory and Topanga on the newest Boy Meets World because Cory asked for help from the wrong person. Then Topanga read a letter that she shouldn’t have. I just hope they can work it out because they have been through so much together.
Anyways, I mostly just wanted to tell you that Dylan Beaman accidentally called me Rowan today. It was the closest he has come to talking to me in a long time. It was kind of nice even though I wasn’t ready for the whole classroom to know that’s my name. I accidentally dropped my SRT book in the hallway during our fire drill. When we finally got back to our seats, Mr. B asked the classroom, “Who does this belong to?” and held up my copy of Magic Tree House: Ghost Town at Sundown. Dylan Beaman knew I’ve been reading that and he shouted “It’s Rowan’s” without thinking at all.
Most people in the room didn’t know who Dylan was talking about at first. They all looked right past me. I tried
to make eye contact with Nathan Lucas to see if he at least remembered the name Rowan from my recycling bin letter. He kept on reading his book about some dragon instead.
I am Rowan, and I’m practically invisible to everyone who doesn’t know that. I mean, have you ever had a whole room look right through you? It was so bad and there was nothing I could do about it. My face turned all white and Courtney pointed at me to say, “Oh my gosh, she looks like a ghost.” Everybody laughed. She of all people knows that I’m not a ghost. At our old slumber parties, we talked to spirits with her Ouija board and nothing the magnet said was ever about me.
Mr. B walked over to my desk and placed the SRT book next to me with a small smile. I know he was trying to be nice, but I couldn’t even look at him. He knows that I haven’t been doing my homework assignments on time. I almost wanted to deny the whole thing and say “That isn’t even mine,” but lately all the teachers hang up paper cut-outs of dogs in the hallway every time we finish a book and I didn’t want to lose that too. People in the hall will see I have enough paper dogs to pull a paper sleigh with the name Ellie Beck on it, and they will think I’m cool for reading so many books. They will forget about this whole day.
I wish Sofie was at school today when all of that happened, but she was absent. She probably had to babysit or maybe help her mom at her cleaning job. I just wanted to be real to somebody, for someone to look at me and understand. I looked back over to Nathan Lucas for one more chance, and again no luck. He was still reading. I guess I probably would have done the same thing if I were him. He has earned more paper cut-out dogs than anyone, and I bet his dad is proud of him. I pulled on my hangnail and I thought about pulling it the entire length of my body so I could have an excuse to go sit in the nurse’s office. I didn’t have the guts, though.
All of this might not sound like a big deal to you, but it was a big deal to me. Hopefully Sofie will be back in school soon and we can try doing our confident walks again.
This isn’t a valentine, but I’ve been thinking a lot. I don’t know who you are and maybe this is your first time finding one of my balloons, but you are important to me. Is there any chance you’re in heaven? Are you a guardian angel? I’ve had lots of thoughts about who is reading all of my letters, but I don’t know especially now that I don’t go to church anymore.
Anyways, I should get going, but first you should know that you can try calling me Rowan even though it’s a little bit scary for me. I don’t know. Thanks for letting me change so much.
Sincerely,
Rowan Beck
Sunday, February 22, 1998
Hi.
I found two quarters under the couch, so here I am writing another letter. I know that I’m not going to church with my family until I look good enough for people to see me, but sometimes I like to imagine that my balloon letters are going all the way up to God. Maybe it’s possible even if Mom says that maybe God is too busy for us sometimes. I guess it just feels better not to pray in front of everyone else. I hope that’s okay with you.
Anyways, lately people at school have been saying, “Girls rule and boys drool.” Dad is a boy who drools. He reminded me last night with peanut M&M’S breath all over me. I don’t know. To be honest, neither the boy or girl option is feeling very good right now. Aren’t there other things to choose from? I know that I’m not supposed to ask so many questions, but the thing is that I don’t like hunting or anything like that, and I don’t like nail polish either. I just like what I like. Is that bad? If I were to pray enough, will I be good? Can I make this all go away and be like everyone else? I guess it’s okay if you don’t know the answer to that.
The lady I see on Sundays told my parents that I did a good job today. It’s all because I let my mom choose my itchy outfit. I also didn’t complain once when we pulled the car over to look at this memorial at a left behind copper mine. We have been there a million times, but Dad always likes to remind me it’s where some girl named Ruth died because nobody was watching her close enough. People here say that the miners who died on the job died for our country, but I guess Ruth is different. I don’t know. I think they’re trying to teach me that only girls can get hurt.
A police officer with yellow-orange sunglasses was there at the memorial too. He just waved at us. I wonder if Ruth is safe now or if she is really still stuck in the lonely mine after all of these years, just like the plaque on the gate says.
I will say, I think it’s true that boys can get hurt too. Maybe it just happens in a different way, like my dad’s hand probably hurt after that time he hit his wall? Right? He was fighting himself, right? I don’t know.
On the way home today, I told my parents I might become a hall monitor at school for having good grades and get chosen to go on the special safety patrol trip to the State Fair in Escanaba in August. I don’t know why I said that because I haven’t been good about homework and I don’t even want to be a hall monitor. Even Dylan knows not to copy off of my papers these days. He has given up on me too. I guess I wanted Mom to be proud of me for what I could be. Dad gets prouder of me by the day, but it somehow doesn’t feel right. I’m just feel really confused about things. I’m sorry.
Just so you know, I think I’m going to give up on sending this valentine to Sofie. It’s just going to confuse everyone. Dad says, “Being bad is a choice, and it’s up to you to learn how to shoot straight.”
Are you glad I’m alive? Sorry if that’s a hard question.
Hope you’re okay.
Sincerely,
Ellie Beck
Tuesday, February 24, 1998
Dear You,
Things have been hard lately, so I’m just trying to hold on to the good stuff. If you don’t mind me asking, do I really have to get rid of what I like in order for God to like me? Shouldn’t others be happy when I’m happy? Today I felt like that could really be true when I put on my ice skates and I really felt close to the whole world. I spent more than half of the time skating backward, and I was really proud of myself. My very favorite part was Dad waving to me with a nice smile from the sidelines while I did “shoot the duck,” where I bend down to hug my knees and somehow keep going. I felt big and I loved it. I felt big because my body was totally gone. I only remember touching the ice like it was a part of me.
Love is enough, right? Today, I feel like it is. Dad was even in a good mood on his ice skates too. He did a pretty twirl without showing off his hockey moves like every other dad does on the ice. Afterward, he gave me a high five and called me a name he hasn’t called me in years, Sprout. I like it when he’s like this.
Anyways, thanks for listening. I don’t always share my wishes because I still think it’s kind of bad luck, but I hope everyone at home can be in a good mood again tomorrow. I hope you’re having a good day too.
Thanks,
Rowan Beck
Friday, February 27, 1998
Dear You,
If I had stickers, I would probably give myself a gold star today. I’ve had some new ideas, and I think they are ones worth keeping. It all started with Bill Nye the Science Guy. At school we all got to sit on the floor around the TV, and shouted the theme song “Bill, Bill, Bill, Bill, inertia is a property of matter” from the beginning. He talked all about bones and muscles, and why we need them so much using funny pancake examples. I haven’t liked the human body unit in science class so much, but if I had to pick, this part has been my favorite.
Did you know that bones are actually pretty similar to rocks? It’s so cool. Today I learned that humans are all born with three hundred bones, and we only have two hundred and six by the time we’re grown-ups. It’s because some bones come together when we grow and get stronger. Mr. B showed us using a plastic sheet on the overhead projector. I copied everything into my workbook and haven’t stopped thinking about it since.
Today’s lesson gave me the perfect idea for my valentine to Sofie
. I am going to find her ninety-four rocks. I’ll give her a rock for every bone that changes and gets stronger by joining other bones. I know I’m a few weeks late, but what do you think? I think she will love it. Plus, if anyone finds the valentine, they won’t know the meaning just by looking at it, so it’s safe. Either way, today was the perfect day to start digging for them because Sofie wasn’t at school again.
I have to admit, Sofie has been missing a lot of school lately. She and her mom have been working extra hard because her dad can’t do much to help from prison. On my way to recess, I quietly hummed “You Are My Sunshine” and thought of her. In my ZooBook, I learned that whale songs can travel up to ten thousand miles under the ocean. I imagined that Sofie could hear my song somehow too.
I started to dig around our usual recess spot at the giant rock. I don’t have a rabbit’s foot or anything like that, but I was in luck because the winter sun was actually strong enough to help break apart rocks and dirt still frozen together. I made a lot of progress while crawling along the bottom of the frosty slope. Within the first five minutes, I found three cool bumpy-lumpy rocks and a fourth one with glitter cooked into it. I put them inside of my front pocket, and they made a nice rattle every time I made a move. I felt unstoppable. It reminded me a little bit of my dad because he used to have a job where he dug all day for special rocks too. It was kind of nice to think about. After all, copper mines run in the family even though they’re all rusted in the snow now.
But after a while, I looked down and noticed that my knees were all brown with cold, wet dirt. Mom would have had a cow if she saw that I already messed up my brand-new pants, especially because they’re expensive and I have been growing fast. I then dug into my knees trying to make everything better and cleaner, but I found more and more dirt the harder I tried to wipe it off of me. I’m not sure how that happened. I somehow got a mess on my coat and my hands too. It took a lot of focus and spit to dig the tiny brown specks out of my palms and nails. But then something covered up my light.