The Vanderbeekers of 141st Street

by Karina Yan Glaser

  “I better go help with the pancakes!” Jessie declared, heading to the kitchen, where four pairs of curious eyes blatantly spied on Isa and Benny.

  “It’s really nice of you to stop by,” Isa said to Benny. “Although—aren’t your parents wondering where you are?”

  “No, I told them I was coming by to say hi to you. They sent this.” Benny thrust a bag overflowing with various sweet breads and Christmas cookies at Isa.

  Isa took the bag. “Wow! Tell them thanks! Do you want to have breakfast with us?”

  Benny glanced at Isa’s parents, then back at Isa. “Hey, can we take a walk or something?”

  Isa blinked. “A walk? Right now?”

  “Yeah. Please?”

  “Let me see.” Isa turned around to ask her parents, but they were nodding before she even opened her mouth.

  “Stay on the block and be back within fifteen minutes, please,” Papa said.

  Isa nodded, grabbed her jacket, and followed Benny outside.

  They walked halfway down the block in silence before Benny mumbled something. Isa glanced at him. Was his face bright red? She leaned toward him. “What did you say?”

  Benny looked at Isa, his face definitely fiery red. “I said you look pretty this morning.”

  Isa looked down at her outfit: beat-up Chuck Taylors, faded fleece pajama pants with music notes on them, fleece hoodie, and puffy winter jacket. She tilted her head. “Are you okay, Benny?” she asked.

  “It’s true!” Benny said defensively. “I’ve always thought you were the prettiest girl I know.”

  Isa’s face quickly matched Benny’s in color, and after a few minutes of quiet, Benny stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. When Isa realized he wasn’t next to her, she stopped and turned around to face him.

  “Isa, I’m really sorry for what I said. Jessie called me yesterday and confessed that she had never told you what happened. I’m sorry I assumed you knew about it. I never asked another girl to the dance. I don’t even know why I said that. I guess I was . . . embarrassed. I’m really, really sorry.”

  “Oh, Benny, I’m sorry too. I would never want to hurt your feelings. You are one of my most important friends. I was so upset when you weren’t talking to me.”

  “Since your sister’s phone call, I’ve been waiting and waiting to come and talk to you in person. I wanted to come last night, but Jessie said that you guys were doing a big dinner and that you were still mad at her. So I came as early as I could today. I needed to ask you something in person.”

  Isa’s heart stuttered as Benny took a deep breath.

  “Isa, I’d really like for you to go with me to the eighth grade dance next month. Please, will you come with me?”

  A slight breeze set a pile of feather-light leaves dancing and rolling down the sidewalk. Benny’s shuffling feet rolled against tiny bits of gravel, the sound echoing in her ears.

  Years later, her memory would linger on this exact moment. The leaves swirling, the gravel crunching, the crisp smell of winter. But most of all, she would remember Benny’s face, so uncertain, and always so dear to her.

  When Isa and Benny returned to the brownstone, Isa’s parents’ noses were pressed against the window. They waved as if spying on people on the street were a completely normal part of their morning. Isa gestured for them to come out, and they both acquiesced without bothering to put on jackets.

  “Oh, hey, Benny. So nice to see you,” Papa said casually. He still wore his new coveralls, his pajamas poking out underneath.

  “Hi, Mr. Vanderbeeker. Hi, Mrs. Vanderbeeker,” Benny replied.

  “Well!” said Mama, rubbing her arms and shivering. “What an interesting morning. Benny, are you joining us for breakfast? Just so you know, the pancakes Hyacinth and Laney made are a complete disaster. Stick with the stuff your parents baked. Do you want to ask them to join us?”

  Benny considered this for about half a second. “I’ll run over and get them.” He loped off and the Vanderbeekers watched him disappear down the street. Frigid from standing outside with no jackets, Mama and Papa ushered Isa inside.

  Isa found Jessie setting the table and pulled her into a big hug. “Thank you,” Isa whispered.

  Jessie nodded. “Does that mean I’m off the hook with cleaning the bathroom?”

  “Nope,” Isa replied. “But you are officially and totally forgiven.”

  Jessie considered. “I’ll take it,” she said.

  Hyacinth and Laney were busy setting the table, Franz in their wake. A wobbly stack of pancakes that looked like extraterrestrial spaceships sat in the middle of the table, along with a platter holding the breads the Castlemans had sent over and a clay bowl filled with clementines.

  “Woof!” announced Franz, pawing at Hyacinth’s feet.

  “Franz, you know that pancakes are not a part of your diet,” Hyacinth scolded as she circled the table laying out utensils.

  Franz continued to follow her and whimper, but Hyacinth avoided him.

  “Franz, please! I’m trying to set the table!”

  Franz howled, then grabbed a corner of Hyacinth’s dress gently in his mouth and pulled her toward the stairs. Hyacinth was so surprised by Franz’s strange behavior she let herself be pulled. All the way upstairs they went, and when they got to the top, Franz bypassed the bedrooms, snuffled urgently, and pawed the door that led into the building hallway.

  “What is it, Franz?” Hyacinth asked him. She pushed him aside and opened the door to find an open packing box on the doormat. Franz stuck his head over the top of the box and licked the forehead of the very same black kitten with white smudged feet they had left on the Beiderman’s doorstep the day before. The cat had a ribbon tied around its neck. When Hyacinth took a closer look, she discovered that it was the same green velvet ribbon she had tied around the placemat she had made for the Beiderman.

  Strung on the ribbon was a tiny piece of paper. Hyacinth untied the ribbon from the kitten’s neck and peered at the note.

  Please come visit me.

  I want you to know something.

  Bring the kitten too.

  —Mr. Beiderman

  Twenty-Three

  Hyacinth tucked the kitten against her chest and sprinted inside with Franz close behind. Down the stairs she tumbled, seeking out each of her siblings and whispering, “Family meeting, NOW!” Maybe it was the crazed look in Hyacinth’s eyes, or the fact that she was cradling a strange yet adorable kitten in her arms, but her siblings did not stop to argue.

  “We’re going to change out of our pajamas!” Isa called down to her preoccupied parents as her siblings made a hasty exit up the stairs.

  “What about breakfast?” Papa called from behind the refrigerator door. No one responded.

  Hyacinth led her siblings out the first-floor exit into the main hallway of the brownstone, where the stairs rose to the other two apartments.

  “Look what I found attached to the kitten I gave to the Beiderman,” Hyacinth said. She handed Oliver the card.

  “You gave the Beiderman this kitten? Why on earth would you do that?” asked Jessie, her eyes wide.

  “Shush,” Isa said to Jessie. Then she ordered Oliver to read the card.

  Oliver read it out loud, then started pacing back and forth. “Oh man, oh man. What do you think he wants?”

  Before anyone could answer, Isa caught sight of Laney. The littlest Vanderbeeker had taken it upon herself to go up the stairs, and she was already halfway between the second and third floors.

  “Laney!” they called, stumbling upstairs after her. But it was too late. She was pounding cheerfully on the door and calling out, “Mr. Beezleman! We’re here! We have your kitten!”

  By the time the other kids caught up with her, the locks were already disengaging. The door opened, and the Beiderman looked down on them. Hyacinth’s first thought was that he didn’t look half as werewolfish as he had when she’d dropped off the placemat. Her second thought was I feel brave.

  “Come in.” T
he Beiderman stepped back and gestured inside. He wore black, but his hair was combed neatly and he had shaved his beard. For a moment, no one moved. Then the kitten executed a graceful leap out of Hyacinth’s arms and trotted inside, the tip of her tail flicking behind her.

  “Please,” the Beiderman said. “Please come in.”

  Hyacinth stood up straight, channeling Hyacinth the Brave, and stepped inside with Franz at her heels. Oliver followed, his new blue knit hat with the fluorescent yellow tip trailing down his back. Laney entered next, followed by Jessie and Isa.

  Violin music was playing softly from a stereo in the corner. Isa’s eyes widened when she realized it was the CD she had made for him of her own playing. The apartment was sparse; there was a dining room table for one with a chair tucked into it, a worn sofa, a crooked side table, and two standing floor lamps.

  The Christmas tree Laney had picked out was displayed in the middle of the table, right in front of the placemat Hyacinth had made. Laney’s picture of the brownstone was taped to the wall next to Hyacinth’s wreath. The science project Jessie had made was resting on the side table next to the sofa where Oliver’s letter and his haiku lay on the armrest. It was all there.

  But what the kids noticed more than the gifts they had given him were the many, many paintings; large and small, all black and white, and on every available wall space. The paintings showed a girl of different ages, from newborn to teenager, sometimes alone on the canvas and other times with a woman that looked their mom’s age. Other canvases depicted just the woman. Some paintings were stark, as if the brush had crashed and torn against the canvas, while other paintings were tender, as if they had been painted over the course of hundreds of hours with the tip of the thinnest brush.

  The kids settled their eyes back on the Beiderman. He had not moved from his position by the door, and the black kitten was winding itself around his ankles and mewling.

  The Beiderman, with the force of the kids’ stares on him, cleared his throat. “I’m Mr. Beiderman,” he said, somewhat unnecessarily, his voice rough. The kids looked back at him uneasily. “I’m sorry for”—the Beiderman coughed, then paused and waved one hand—“everything.”

  None of the kids said anything. The Beiderman looked at Isa, then away again. Then he looked back at her. “I’m sorry. About last night. About not renewing your lease. It’s just that—” Mr. Beiderman stuttered to a stop.

  “It’s okay, Mr. Beiderman,” said Isa. “We know. We’re sorry about your family.”

  Mr. Beiderman swallowed. “A few months ago,” he said to Isa, “you played Luciana’s favorite song outside on the brownstone steps. It was too much for me. I thought it would be easier . . .” He trailed off, not finishing the sentence.

  They stood there in silence. The only sound was the brownstone floors creaking when the kids shifted.

  Then Hyacinth spoke up. “Did you make all those paintings?”

  He nodded.

  “You must miss them so much.”

  Mr. Beiderman looked at her. “I miss them every second of every day.”

  Isa felt her heart pounding in her chest. “Mr. Beiderman,” she said, “we would like to be your friends. That is, if it’s not too hard to be with us.”

  Laney walked over to her neighbor, and, without hesitation, she hugged him as only a four-and-three-quarters-year-old can hug.

  “Let’s be friends,” she said, her voice muffled against him. Mr. Beiderman looked down at her in surprise, his face filled with both despair and longing. When Laney detached herself, he kneeled down. He didn’t respond, but he reached for her hand.

  Mr. Beiderman glanced up at Oliver.

  “I’m sorry,” Oliver said, stepping forward. “For the awful note.”

  Mr. Beiderman nodded. “I deserved it, and more.”

  Hyacinth took Mr. Beiderman’s hand and pulled him up. “Come on, it’s time for Christmas breakfast.”

  “Oh no, I can’t go,” said Mr. Beiderman as he resisted Hyacinth. “I can’t leave this apartment.”

  “You left to bring the kitten with the note down,” said Jessie matter-of-factly.

  “That was the one and only time,” he replied.

  “Not the only time,” said Isa, helping Hyacinth lead him out the door. “The first of many.”

  Mama and Papa were waiting at the bottom of the apartment stairs by the kitchen when the kids came back to the apartment.

  “What on earth were you doing up there for so long?” Mama cried as the kids descended the staircase. “And how come you’re still in your pajamas?”

  “We can explain,” said Jessie.

  But Mama was on a roll. “The Castlemans have been here for ten minutes! Even Auntie Harrigan and Uncle Arthur are awake!”

  Isa appeared, leading a hesitant Mr. Beiderman down the stairs. “Mama, we’d like to introduce you to Mr. Beiderman.”

  Mama and Papa gaped as Mr. Beiderman emerged from behind the children. He maneuvered around the moving boxes stacked along the banister.

  “I’m so sorry to intrude,” he said in a voice so quiet they all strained to hear him. “I was manhandled.”

  Papa recovered first. “No, no,” he said weakly. “Please, come in. Um, Merry Christmas.” He gestured vaguely to the Castlemans. “Do you know the Castlemans?”

  “Hello,” Mr. Beiderman said.

  “Hello,” they echoed back.

  Isa looked at her mother. “Mama, can we get Mr. Beiderman something to eat?”

  “Oh yes!” Mama came out of her trance and bustled around, grabbing many bread items and placing them on a plate in an overflowing heap. She pushed it into Mr. Beiderman’s arms, then asked, “Coffee? Tea? Milk? Juice? Flat water? Sparkling water?”

  Hyacinth slipped in. “Mama, we’ll get him a drink. You help the Castlemans.” The Castlemans were now in hushed conversation with Auntie Harrigan and did not look as if they needed assistance, but Mama raced over there anyway.

  “Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Beiderman?” Hyacinth asked. Her siblings hovered around Mr. Beiderman protectively.

  “Water. Please,” Mr. Beiderman said faintly. She disappeared to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. He took a sip, then looked at the Vanderbeeker kids. “Even after I’ve been so terrible to you, you still want to live in the same building as me?”

  The Vanderbeeker kids did not even dare to breathe as they nodded. Mr. Beiderman swallowed.

  “I would like you to stay living here, in the brownstone,” he said, then added hastily, “if you would still like to.”

  There was a brief pause, then joy burst forth and rang throughout the brownstone. Laney and Hyacinth jumped up and down and cheered, while Oliver pumped his arms in the air and shouted. Jessie and Isa threw their arms around each other.

  Mama and Papa hurried over. “What on earth!” exclaimed Mama.

  “We can stay, we can stay!” chanted Hyacinth.

  “We don’t have to move to Ottenville!” yelled Oliver.

  “I get to keep Mr. Van Hooten as my violin teacher!” exclaimed Isa.

  Mama and Papa looked wide-eyed at Mr. Beiderman.

  “Please. I’d like you and your family to stay in the brownstone,” Mr. Beiderman said.

  There was stunned silence, then: “Oh, thank you, thank you!” cried Mama, enveloping him in a spontaneous hug. Oliver was afraid Mama would lift him off the ground in her enthusiasm.

  “Okay, okay,” said Papa, detaching Mama from Mr. Beiderman’s neck. Then he put out his hand and shook Mr. Beiderman’s. “Thank you. This means so much to us.”

  “Will you visit me and play the violin?” Mr. Beiderman asked Isa.

  “Yes,” she replied. “If it’s not too hard for you. Mr. Van Hooten told me about the violin.”

  Mr. Beiderman nodded. “It was nice to see it, to hear it sing again.”

  He turned to Hyacinth. “Will you teach me how to take care of a cat?”

  “Oh yes!” cried Hyacinth.

 
; “I’ll help too!” said Laney.

  “Laney, can you help me name it?” asked Mr. Beiderman.

  “Fluffy,” Laney said promptly. “Or Cutie. Or Princess Cutie.”

  “Let’s think about it some more,” suggested Mr. Beiderman.

  At that moment Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet entered the apartment, and the kids rushed over to share the news.

  “We’re staying, we’re staying!” cried Hyacinth.

  Laney grabbed Miss Josie around the waist. “We can be together forever!”

  Oliver saw Mr. Jeet smile so big, it looked like someone had told him he’d won a million dollars.

  “Is it true?” Miss Josie said, bracing herself on Mrs. Vanderbeeker’s arm.

  “Yes! Have you met Mr. Beiderman?” asked Mama. She dragged Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet to Mr. Beiderman and bustled off to get food for the new arrivals.

  The doorbell rang, and in came Angie and her dad to say goodbye, only to realize that goodbyes were no longer necessary. Mr. Smiley got on his phone to notify the neighbors, and soon enough a crowd of happy friends arrived at the Vanderbeekers’ doorstep to celebrate.

  When Allegra flew in decked in a flowing red dress with a wide black ribbon tied around her waist, the first thing she did was embrace Isa and exclaim, “Now we have to find a guy to take you to the eighth grade dance!”

  “Already done,” Isa said, smiling at Benny.

  “Shut. Up.” Allegra looked like she had just been given an early birthday present. “That is so, so awesome! I can’t wait to tell Carlson. Benny, you better get Isa a corsage. Listen, at the florist on Lenox Avenue, they have this carnation color called amaranth pink. That’s the color you need to get, because it will go best with the color of her dress and her hair. Don’t forget, am-uh-ranth pink. Oh, and you need to wear a suit, okay? No football jerseys allowed.”

  Benny looked down at his current outfit, a jersey and jeans. Then he looked at Isa in alarm.

  But Allegra wasn’t done with Benny. “Do you have a friend who can take Jessie?”