by Janet Fox
And she’d discovered that many adults weren’t so bad after all.
Lulu must have made more cranes than she thought. Because all her wishes were beginning to come true.
54
WHEN LULU went back to school on Tuesday she was in for a surprise. On her desk was a paper crane. But it was a pretty awful crane, clearly made by someone who didn’t know how to fold origami.
Or maybe it was deliberately awful, Lulu thought, with a pain that went straight to her heart.
But that wasn’t it. Because all day long, more paper cranes kept appearing, and some were terrible but some were really good. One showed up on her desk after she went to sharpen her pencil. Several showed up at the lunch table where she usually sat with Jack. A whole pile were left on her desk when she got back to homeroom. And when she went to after-school—where she saw Serena again, who was still with the foster family but who was back in her routine—the whole room was strung with paper cranes.
Laurie at first pretended she didn’t know how it had happened, but then she admitted that she felt so bad for sending Serena with social services and not being able to help Lulu and not knowing that they were living in the Suburban, that as soon as she’d found out everything (because this was a really small town and news like that spread quickly), she and the other girls who looked after the kids in after-school spent their lunch time Tuesday making the cranes hanging in the room and they were all for Lulu to keep.
“But who made the ones today at school?” Lulu asked.
She didn’t find out until the next day, Wednesday.
Deana had been really quiet in school. She’d said a serious hello to Lulu—for the first time ever. She’d ignored her old friends—for the first time ever. When she and Lulu did their writing session, Deana read what Lulu had written and said, very softly, “Yeah. That’s good.”
No chatter. No usual Deana stuff.
At lunch on Wednesday, when Lulu sat down with Jack at their table, Deana ignored her old friends entirely (a couple of whom huffed and raised eyebrows and whispered) and came and sat down next to Lulu. Deana didn’t chatter then, either, just talked quietly about the play and how many rehearsals they needed before the performance and how good Jack was at dancing and how Lulu’s voice was so pretty.
When they got up to go back to class Deana said, loud enough for her old friends to hear, “Don’t forget I’ve got a Royal Bee at home for you.”
“Oh!” Lulu said.
“I want you to have it.”
“Okay. I mean, thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Maybe you can come over this weekend,” Deana said, and actually sounded kind of shy. She didn’t look at the other girls.
That was when Lulu began to think that maybe she and Deana could be friends.
It wasn’t until the play rehearsal after school, when Deana sat down next to Lulu in the audience seats while they were watching someone else practice, and handed Lulu another paper crane and started talking, that Lulu figured the rest of it out.
“I had to go on YouTube to learn how to fold them,” Deana whispered. “They’re hard. Mine are the worst ones. You can tell which.”
There was a long silence, filled by someone singing the same verse over after hearing tips.
“How did you know?” Lulu whispered.
“That book we read at the beginning of school. The one about the girl from Hiroshima. I liked that whole thing about the wishes, even though it was really sad.”
“Oh!”
Another silence during which Mr. Franzen blocked a scene for two actors.
Deana whispered, “And anyhoo, the story about your dad and you living in the car and everything got all over town real fast once the story broke Monday. And you gave me that paper crane and I put two and two together. So I called around and told everyone else and everybody—well, almost everybody—got down to business making paper cranes, like, all night Monday.” She paused. “I can’t believe it. The car and all. I’m…”
Lulu looked sideways at Deana. Deana was staring straight ahead, at the stage. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
That’s when Lulu knew that she would be best friends with Deana. Forever.
55
WHEN DADDY woke up at last, Lulu was by his side. He smiled when he saw her, which the doctor said was a good sign. And while she hugged him and cried a little he said, “Look at you. So grown up,” before falling back asleep.
The next day Lulu brought Serena, and he said, “You’ll have to tell me how I got here.”
But Lulu decided that would wait, and that she would probably never tell him everything she felt while he was missing, because some of what she’d felt was hurtful. Her anger. Her disappointment. Her fear.
But despite that, Lulu thought now that she and Serena and their daddy were lucky, lucky, lucky.
Lucky because they were in Montana, which took care of sick people like her daddy even when they didn’t have money.
Lucky because Daddy did get better, even though it took a while and he needed lots of help.
Lucky because Ms. M’s husband, Mr. Albert, was a lawyer who could help Lulu’s daddy get out of trouble for running away from all those medical bills from Mama’s sickness, the bills that he’d left behind unpaid in Texas.
She was even lucky with angry Aunt Ruth, who turned out this time to be more worried than angry, and who, right away when she learned what happened, flew to Montana to look after things with Lulu and Serena and their daddy, even renting a house in town “with my hard-earned retirement money” and staying on until Daddy was out of the hospital, so that Lulu and Serena could live with her instead of being in foster care or burdening Ms. Maurene and Mr. Albert.
“But I don’t cotton to this cold weather and this blankety-blank snow,” Aunt Ruth groused, after buying the girls winter boots in the shoe store on Main Street. “I’ll be getting back to Texas just as soon as your daddy is on his feet again. And why he didn’t ask me for more help in the first place I’ll never know.”
Well, Lulu did know.
Aunt Ruth was so angry when Lulu’s mama died that she was a hard person to ask, “Please help,” and she didn’t seem to want to go out of her way or stand up or take charge or do what needed to be done. In fact, Aunt Ruth had scared Lulu by bringing in the police and child services and talking about sending Lulu and Serena away to foster care.
And that made Lulu realize a couple of things.
First, that Aunt Ruth may have had her own grief to deal with when Lulu’s mama died and Aunt Ruth just hadn’t been seeing or thinking clearly, and her way of dealing with grief wasn’t like Lulu’s. Or anybody else’s.
Second, that asking for help was as hard for her daddy as it was for Lulu.
But maybe, Lulu thought now, that was foolish, trying to be all strong and in control. Standing up on your own was fine most of the time, but when it wasn’t—when you really needed help, when you were down and out—it was okay to ask. Okay to admit that things were hard.
And Lulu also discovered, to her surprise, that lots and lots of people, adults and kids, too, cared. Really cared about almost-strangers like her and Serena and their daddy. Ms. M and her husband cared, of course. But also Daddy’s construction boss, Hank, who’d gone to the police after putting two and two together just as the Suburban was being towed and realizing who the unidentified man in the hospital might be. The man who’d found her daddy in the field with the dancing crane cared. The doctors in the hospital here cared. The man at the food bank cared. The Lutherans. Jack. Deana. Laurie.
If Lulu had been in the tower of the Carnegie library and it still had its bell, and she was in trouble, she could pull hard on that bell rope, the sound winging up and down the streets, the people pouring out of houses and churches and shops. And if someone else rang that bell, why, Lulu would be there for them, too.
Come, that bell would sing. And they would.
They would gather in great social groups.
Lik
e the sandhill cranes.
Lulu already knew how to stand up and do what needed doing. It was also good to know when to ring the Carnegie library bell.
56
AUNT RUTH left between Thanksgiving and Christmas, but not before seeing Lulu perform in Schoolhouse Rock. She confessed that she “got a little teary because Lulu’s sweet voice so reminded me of Athena’s sweet voice.” And then she added, “And you’re quite a little actress.”
Lulu got teary herself, thinking that she sounded like her mama, because that meant she carried a little of her mama around with her and it came out every time she sang. And as for acting, it still took her to places far away, and that was wonderful.
Aunt Ruth left for Texas after that because Daddy was home now, in the rental house, and could look after things.
But before she left, Daddy told all of them that he still didn’t really know what happened that September morning when he disappeared. All he knew was that he woke really early and began thinking about things. Remembering Lulu’s mama. Thinking how bad he’d been to run away, first from the girls—“I’m so sorry, Ruth. I shouldn’t have done that to you.” And then how sorry he was that he ran away to Montana and didn’t face what he had to do with the bills and all, and didn’t face his sadness, and didn’t do what he should have done to make things right. But he sat in the car that morning and felt so bad that he couldn’t fall back to sleep, so he got up to go for a walk and the next thing he knew he was waking up in a hospital bed with Lulu staring down at him.
“I didn’t have my wallet, so he got nothing,” Daddy said about the man who jumped him, which is what the police thought had happened, though they’d never know for sure. “Maybe that’s why he beat me so bad.” He paused. “He must have been desperate.”
Lulu knitted her hands together, thinking about that feeling.
“Well,” said Aunt Ruth, rubbing her eyes. “I’ve rented this house for a year. I’m sure that’ll see you through. But don’t you want to come back to Texas with me? It’s so gosh-durn cold here.”
Lulu looked at Serena, and they both looked at Daddy.
“I think we’ve found something in Montana,” Daddy said, echoing Lulu’s thoughts exactly.
* * *
Daddy had been well enough to work on a secret Christmas project for Serena. On Christmas morning, when he unveiled it in the garage, Serena burst into tears.
It was a house.
A dollhouse, of course, but so wonderful that Lulu was awed. It had two stories, and gabled windows, and a front porch and a back stoop, and opened to show three bedrooms and a great big kitchen and living room. The shutters were dark green. The roof was soft brown.
Soft brown like the color of crane feathers.
Like wings.
Lulu stood next to Daddy while Serena went around and around, opening the little doors and windows, and examining the rooms, and talking about how she would do this and that to decorate inside.
Lulu’s arm was looped around Daddy’s waist and all she could think was how thin he still felt.
“It’s a beauty, Daddy.”
“Yep,” he said. He was silent for a moment. “You really like it?” he asked softly.
“Oh, I do,” said Lulu, trying to keep the longing out of her voice.
“Good. Because here’s your Christmas present. I talked to Hank”—his boss—“and he’s gonna help me build it for real. In that neighborhood you saw. Where I’ve been working. He’ll help me work out the finances.”
Lulu bit her lip hard. Sure, she knew now that she could cry, but she didn’t want to at the moment. She swallowed and said, “I love it, Daddy. I can’t wait.”
He squeezed her shoulder, and all she could think was, Home.
57
SPRING IS slow to arrive in this part of Montana, Lulu observed. Spring in Montana comes in fits and starts, with unexpected late snows and growing early morning light. But Lulu realized that she liked the cold much better than the heat, which was good now that they were building the house that would be theirs here in Montana, instead of going back to Texas.
Almost every afternoon after school, Lulu picked up Serena and they walked to the new house. Their daddy could only work on it after finishing his regular hours, so the girls would join him and carry lumber or pick up nails or sweep shavings.
Little by little Lulu watched their house grow. She helped make it happen. She and Serena and their daddy.
In the rental house, Lulu had a little table beside her bed, and in the middle of the table she put the broken gray crane, as a reminder.
“That makes me sad,” Serena said one night, pointing at it. “You should get rid of it.”
Lulu shook her head. “No,” she said. “That makes me think.”
“About what?”
Lulu didn’t answer right away. She was thinking about how it reminded her that it was very easy to become broken and end up living in the back of a car, and that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but it shouldn’t happen, ever. She was thinking that if she could find a way to make it not happen to anyone else, she would, because people deserve better.
But Lulu said instead, “It makes me think about how best to make things right.”
58
LULU MET Deana on the front lawn of Lulu’s house.
“I’m helping my dad make me a set of bookshelves,” Lulu said. She was wearing goggles, pushed up on the top of her head, and gloves, and carrying a hammer. “After which we’re going over to work on the Habitat house. They want to finish it for the new family this week, before the cold sets in.”
“Cool!” said Deana, propping her bike. “Can I help?”
Serena’s laughter filtered down through the open window. The aspen behind the house rattled in the slight breeze. It was still Montana summer warm, and Lulu couldn’t quite believe that school would start again in only two weeks.
The Suburban was parked in the driveway next to their daddy’s truck. Lulu had wanted him to get rid of the Suburban at first, but then she took a bunch of her paper cranes and strung them up in the back, where they filled the car with color. At some point, he was planning to fix it up and sell it, but he wasn’t quite ready yet.
Jack pedaled up the driveway and started talking even before he stopped his bike. “Have you guys heard?” he said. “I ran into Mr. Franzen in the grocery store. Guess what play we’re doing in school this year.”
The girls waited.
“Les Mis! I love that music! And Mr. Franzen said it’s gonna be set in today’s times, to make it more relevant.”
Lulu knew the word “relevant” and she even knew how it was spelled.
“We already know who will be the lead,” Deana said, shoving Lulu’s shoulder. “You’ll be really great.”
“What’re you guys up to?” Jack asked, looking up at the goggles and back to the hammer.
“Making bookshelves for Lulu’s room,” Deana said. “And then we’re heading over to the Habitat project,” she added.
“Excellent. Let’s get ’em done.”
As the three friends walked up the driveway to the garage, Lulu glanced at the Suburban. The sun was shining from behind, illuminating the cranes that were hung across the back. For one second, she could have sworn the crane wings fluttered, a riot of moving color, as if they were real birds and were so powerful they could lift the whole hunk of metal right off the ground and into the blue blue sky.
Acknowledgments
The idea for this novel was born from a news report. I listened to an interview on NPR with the father of a family who were living in their car with three children—despite the fact that both parents worked. I began to wonder what a child would feel, getting up every morning after sleeping in a car, getting dressed in a car, doing homework in a car… and wondering especially about a young twelve-year-old girl who would be ridiculed for not bathing or having clean clothes, much less the “right” clothes. I began to imagine Lulu’s life.
We should all pay attentio
n to lives like Lulu’s. It’s far too easy to turn a blind eye, and these desperate families are far too numerous in our world. Any of us, at any time, could be in her family’s shoes. It’s time to speak up, to speak out, and to act.
I ended up writing Lulu’s story in a rush, in one month, a rare thing and a gift, and for that I thank the muse and the universe and Lulu herself.
My critique partner and first reader is Jen Cervantes, and I cannot thank her enough for her wisdom, support, and encouragement. She prompts me always to write more deeply. Gracias, otra vez, mi amiga.
My agent, Erin Murphy, who loved this story from the start, is my second reader and critiquer and ultimately my champion in all things. Thank you, Erin. My editor at Simon & Schuster, Krista Vitola, is smart and kind, and I thank her so much for helping me polish this little novel, and for finding the perfect title for it too. When I saw the cover designed by Lizzy Bromley, with the illustration by Henry Cole, I began to cry, it was so beautiful. And in a perfect mind meld, Krista and I each had the vision of seeing Lulu and Serena walking hand in hand, just as Henry has depicted them.
I must acknowledge my wonderful Viking editor Kendra Levin, now with Simon & Schuster, who read this manuscript first and placed it in Krista’s more than capable hands.
Many thanks to Morgan York, Chava Wolin, Gary Sunshine, and Kathy Smith.
And lastly, I want to thank my husband, Jeff, who has been my pillar of strength for these many, many years, always supporting me and my work. And my son Kevin, a talented writer and deep thinker, prompts me to question my assumptions, and in that way he has led me straight into Lulu’s heart.
