The World From Up Here

by Cecilia Galante

But Dad just laughed at me, and tickled my ribs. “It’s okay, butterbean,” he said. “You’re in here with me and Momma. You’re safe.”

  I lifted my head slowly, just as another sheet of lightning cracked across the black sky. For a split second, the room lit up, as if someone had turned on the lights, and it was then that I saw Momma, still hunched under Dad’s other arm. She looked as if she was in some kind of trance. Her eyes were wide as quarters, the pupils so dilated they looked almost hollow. She was whispering something—a single word—over and over again. Great? Grit? Her voice was so faint, it was hard to hear.

  Dad must have seen Momma’s face, too, because he stopped laughing, and grabbed her with his other arm. “Greta,” he said gently. “Greta, honey. I’m here. I’m right here.”

  Now, I rolled over and buried my face into the pillow. I could feel the jagged side of Momma’s bird necklace pushing against the soft part of my throat. The pillowcase smelled clean and powdery, but strangely unfamiliar, too. My pillowcases at home smelled like Momma—a mix of rose petals and cut grass.

  Behind my lids, my eyes welled with tears that leaked out in a slow stream down the curve of my cheek.

  I just wanted to go home.

  We piled into Old Betsy the next morning: Russell up front with Aunt Marianne, Silver and I squeezed into the small, cab-like compartment behind them. I was already exhausted. Russell had thrown a fit at breakfast, screaming that he didn’t want to ride the strange bus with weird kids he didn’t know. Nothing I said or did could calm him down, until Aunt Marianne came downstairs and said, calm as anything, that he didn’t have to take the bus. She would drive us to school.

  “You mean forever?” Russell asked.

  “Well, you won’t be here forever, Russell,” Aunt Marianne answered, ruffling his hair. “But I’ll drive you for as long as you are.”

  I held my breath, waiting for Russell to dart out from under Aunt Marianne’s hand or even strike out at her for touching his hair, but he didn’t move. He only nodded and sat back down to finish his breakfast. I watched Aunt Marianne as she moved throughout the kitchen, buttering a bagel, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She didn’t seem annoyed or upset by Russell’s outburst; in fact, she was whistling a little through her teeth. I wondered how much longer her patience was going to hold out.

  Silver was eating a piece of peanut butter toast, except that she had rolled it up like a taco and was taking bites from both ends. I kept my eyes on Russell in the front seat, who was saying something to Aunt Marianne. The small window that separated us prevented me from hearing what it was, but I could tell by the way his muscles around his mouth were beginning to tighten that something was definitely wrong. Without warning, he kicked the dashboard, hard. I leaned forward quickly and knocked on the glass.

  Aunt Marianne slid the window open a little with one hand, and then waved. “Everything’s okay, Wren. We were just talking about Jackson, and how’s he going to feel being alone at the house all day. It’s all right now though, right, Russell?”

  Russell glared out the window.

  “Russell,” I said. He ignored me. Or maybe he couldn’t hear me through the window. I sat forward a little and tapped on the glass behind his head. “Russell,” I said, a little louder.

  “I’m okay, Wren,” Russell said without turning around. “Stop being so annoying. I really hate you.”

  I sat back, stung. A knot formed in the back of my throat, and I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to cry. I know Russell’s different. And I know he doesn’t really mean the things he says. But sometimes it hurts anyway. I reached up and felt for Momma’s necklace.

  Next to me, Silver opened a blue notebook and began to write something across the top. I tried not to watch, but it was impossible, given the tight quarters of our seating arrangement.

  WITCH WEATHERLY PROJECT appeared on the page, spelled out in capital letters. Finished, Silver sat back, and then looked at me.

  My fingers stopped fiddling as I turned and stared at her with disbelief. “You’re doing it?” I whispered.

  She nodded, underlining the words, as if to emphasize her decision. “You won’t tell my mom, will you?”

  I swallowed again. It didn’t seem fair that she’d decided to burden me with her secret. It was a big one and terrifying to boot. She had to be crazy. There was no doubt about it. Anyone who knew all there was to know about Creeper Mountain and Witch Weatherly, and was going to go there anyway, had to be completely out of their mind. But there was another part of me that felt just the tiniest bit thrilled that she had let me in on her plans. It was as if she already trusted me, or wanted to, at least.

  “Wren?” She elbowed me, her wide eyes searching mine.

  “No,” I whispered. “I won’t tell.”

  “Thanks.” Silver’s eyes dropped to my fingers. “That’s a cool necklace. Where’d you get it?”

  “It’s my mom’s.”

  “Does someone have the other half?”

  “No. It broke when she was younger and fell off her bike. She never found the other piece.”

  “It’s so different looking.” Silver leaned in closer. “I like the little bird and the leaves. And what do those letters mean?”

  “I think it’s part of her name. You know, for Greta.”

  “It’s nice she let you have it.”

  “Yeah.” I shrugged and tucked the medallion back inside my shirt.

  I turned away from her then and looked out the window. I didn’t want to talk about Momma anymore.

  Not now.

  Maybe not ever.

  It could have been the fact that Aunt Marianne didn’t let Old Betsy’s speedometer fall under sixty for the whole ride, or the three yellow lights she sped through, but somehow she got all of us to school with two whole minutes to spare. She let Russell out at the elementary school across the street and pulled the truck into the middle school parking lot.

  The usual throng of sixth and seventh-grade kids was hanging around out front, Dylan, Jeremy, and Nathan among them. They were sitting on the front steps the way they usually did, watching and commenting on everyone who came in, but they stood up when they spotted Silver in the window of Old Betsy. I scooched farther down in my seat, trying to ignore the dampness that was starting to collect under my arms, and the floppy feeling inside my belly.

  Silver pushed her way out of the truck and paused, waiting for me. Behind her, the three boys had already started to approach. They eyed Old Betsy cautiously, as if not quite sure what to make of her.

  “Is that your car?” Jeremy looked confused.

  Silver shut the truck door. “Yup.”

  Aunt Marianne leaned across the front seat, catching Silver’s eye. “Do you have cheerleading today, honey?”

  “No,” Silver said. “Tomorrow, Friday, and Saturday.”

  “All right.” Aunt Marianne looked over at me. “I’ll pick Russell up at 3:00 and then you guys at 3:15, okay?”

  “Okay, Mom.” Silver waved. “Bye.”

  “Bye, honey.” Aunt Marianne grinned. “See you, Wren.”

  I tried to smile but it came out more like a grimace. I stared down at the pavement as the truck roared off, and bit my lip.

  “You coming, Wren?” Silver stepped around the throng of boys. I moved behind her on wooden legs.

  “Wait, why didn’t you just take the bus?” Dylan asked. “Like you always do?”

  “We didn’t feel like it,” Silver answered.

  Jeremy looked as if he was about to ask another question, but then his eyes fell on me. “What’s she doing riding with you?”

  “She needed a ride,” Silver answered.

  I closed my eyes, hoping against hope I would discover that I was in the middle of a dream. Or even a nightmare. At the very least, I would wake up and find out none of this was real.

  “But she doesn’t even live near you,” Jeremy pressed. “Doesn’t she live all the way over on the west side?”

  I wondered briefly if Jeremy
thought I didn’t have ears.

  “Actually, she’s staying with me for a while.” Silver headed for the front door, talking over her shoulder. “And if you want to know why, ask her. It’s none of my business.”

  I had to actually think about moving my legs, so that I wouldn’t stand there in total shock. Had Silver Jones just told Jeremy Winters that the reason I was staying with her was none of her business? Who said things like that? About me?

  And to the cutest boy in sixth grade?

  Nora and Cassie clobbered me as soon as I got to our third-period math class.

  “Is it true?” Nora shrieked. “Holy cow, tell me it’s true!”

  I dumped my backpack on the floor and slid into my seat. “Tell you what’s true?”

  “That you’re staying at the Joneses’!” Cassie swatted me playfully. “Don’t even try to keep secrets from us, Wren!” Bits of pink and blue Lucky Charms stuck out from her braces.

  “Ow.” I rubbed my arm.

  “Wren! Talk to us!” Nora put her hand on her hip. “I mean, the whole school knows by now that you’re staying with Silver Jones. How come? What’s going on?”

  I rubbed my palms over my face. There was no way I could go into the real story with them. I didn’t want to. Neither of them had ever even met Momma. Besides, it wasn’t any of their business.

  I took a deep breath. “She’s my cousin, actually.”

  The two girls drew back as if I had just spit at them. “You’re related to Silver Jones,” Nora said. It was a statement, not a question.

  “Yeah.” I began to unzip my bag and take out my books. “Why do you even care? Just yesterday, you were saying what an idiot she was.”

  Cassie and Nora exchanged a glance and then rolled their eyes. “That was just because of the wasp thing,” Cassie said. “Wait, what kind of cousins are you? Like real cousins, or second cousins forty times removed?”

  “Her mom and my mom are sisters,” I said. “We’re first cousins.”

  “You are?” Nora jumped up and down a little. “That is so cool! So why are you staying with them? Did your parents go on vacation?”

  “Yeah.” I took out my pencil and began to spin it along my knuckles. “They did, actually.” I was relieved that she had provided me with an explanation, even if it was mostly untrue.

  “What’s her house like?” Nora asked. “Did you see her room? They’re, like, totally super rich, right? Does she have boys over all the time? Do they have an indoor pool?”

  I shook my head. “No. Actually, it’s nothing like that. At all.”

  “I heard Jeremy tell Mandy that some lady with pigtails drove you and Silver to school this morning in a beat-up old truck,” Cassie said, fiddling with one of the tiny rubber bands inside her mouth. “Was that their maid?”

  “No.” I stifled a laugh. “That was my Aunt Marianne. Silver’s mom. They don’t have maids.”

  “That was Silver’s mother?” Nora cocked her head and raised her eyebrow. “You’re lying.”

  “I am not,” I protested. “It’s just …” I struggled for words I didn’t even want to say, as I tried to figure out what it was they wanted to hear. “I don’t know. Silver’s just normal, I guess. You know, regular, like everyone else.”

  Now Cassie tilted her head. “Regular?” she repeated.

  “Yeah.” I shrugged and put my pencil away. “She is. I mean, I’ve only been there for one night, but from what I can tell, her life is pretty normal. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

  “I think I know what’s happening here.” Nora swept the top of the desk lightly with her palm, brushing invisible crumbs out of the way.

  “You do?” Cassie asked.

  Nora nodded without taking her eyes off me. “Wren’s ditching us.”

  “Ditching you?” I repeated. “What do you mean?”

  “For Silver,” Nora went on. “You don’t want to tell us what she’s really like because you’re protecting her. You’re keeping everything you know about her a secret because she’s your cousin, and now it’s more important to you to be her friend than ours. Even after we asked you to be part of our secret club last summer and everything.”

  I stared up at her, aghast. “That’s not true at all!”

  “Oh, please.” Nora stood up and put her hand on her hip. “Real friends don’t keep things from each other.”

  “Yeah,” Cassie echoed. “My mother always says, you never know who your true friends are until someone bigger comes along.”

  “Exactly.” Nora’s face darkened. “And then, anything can happen.”

  Miss Crumb’s daily blackboard question in English class was another interesting one:

  What three superpowers would you most like to have? Why?

  I wrote quickly, without thinking:

  1. I would like to be able to automatically transport myself, so that I could go visit Momma today after school and be back in time for bed.

  2. I would like to be able to have X-ray vision, so that even when visiting hours were over at the hospital, I could still see Momma through the walls.

  3. I would like to be telepathic, because then I could understand what it is that really makes Momma sad, and be able to fix it. Also, I would be able to change all my scaredy-cat feelings into strong ones, and then maybe get up the nerve to tell Cassie and Nora to go shove it.

  We had a substitute teacher for Mr. Tunlaw’s class, which was not a surprise, since Mr. Pringle had made an announcement that morning that Mr. Tunlaw would be out for the next few days until he felt better. The substitute’s name was Miss Coin. She was a short woman with a square, mannish-looking face. When she turned to the side, she looked a little like George Washington, except with curly blonde hair.

  “Okay, people,” she said, clapping her hands. “Let’s discuss the topics you’re thinking about for your history project. Oh, and before I forget, Mr. Tunlaw has asked me to tell you that you may work in pairs on this project if you would like.”

  I looked out the window, searching for squirrels. I still hadn’t given a single thought yet to what I was going to do for the history project. Truthfully, I wasn’t even sure I would do it at all. After what had happened with Momma, everything else seemed so trivial. So unimportant. But one thing was for sure: If I was going to do it, there was no way I was going to work with anyone. I worked much better alone.

  A small square of paper flew across the top of my desk, startling me out of my thoughts. I clapped my hand over it before it fell to the floor, and glanced around. Who was throwing things at me? Then my eyes fell on Silver. She nodded and flicked her eyes at the note, indicating that I should read it. I unfolded the tiny piece of paper and stared at the message inside.

  Do you want to be my partner for the history project?

  Maybe she thought she was in over her head. Or maybe she was starting to chicken out a little, now that she’d had some time to think over all the things we’d told her about Witch Weatherly. Whatever it was, she couldn’t pay me five million bucks to be her partner. I felt a sharp stab of fear, just thinking about it. There was no way I’d ever set foot on that mountain, much less go anywhere near Witch Weatherly. Project or no project.

  Silver was still staring at me, waiting for a response.

  No, thanks, I mouthed silently.

  For a brief second, she looked crushed. Her shoulders sagged and her whole face seemed to cave in with disappointment.

  Then she shrugged, took out a tube of pineapple lip-gloss, and rolled it across her lips.

  I looked back out the window.

  Somehow, disappointing her felt almost as bad as thinking about Creeper Mountain.

  Cassie and Nora were already sitting at the lunch table on the patio when I came over. They gave each other a sidelong glance as I sat down. Nora moved over so that there was an empty seat between us.

  I looked at her. “You don’t want me to sit with you anymore?”

  She sniffed and looked away.

  “Sit w
herever you want,” Cassie said. She was picking through a bag of Chex Mix, taking out the pretzels, which she didn’t like, and stacking them in a little pile next to her tray. “It’s a free country.”

  I sat down and stared at the tray of food in front of me: a chicken patty on a bun, ten or twelve tater tots, a small pile of shriveled peas, and a mound of diced pears. Aunt Marianne had offered to pack everyone’s lunch this morning, but Silver hadn’t wanted her to. “I keep telling you, Mom,” she’d said. “It’s not like Florida. Everyone here buys their lunches. Every day.” For a moment, I wondered what lunch had been like in Florida. Did the kids there bring their lunches in picnic baskets? Eat outside under wide palm trees?

  I picked up my chicken sandwich and took a bite. The bun was dry and mealy. The chicken tasted like sawdust.

  “So, like I was saying,” Nora spoke directly to Cassie. “Bone Chillers comes out tonight. My mom can drop us off at seven thirty, and we can go to the eight o’clock show. Then afterward we can go to the Hot Spot for pizza, and you can sleep over at my house.”

  “Awesome!” Cassie grinned and clapped her hands. “I can’t wait!”

  “I can’t believe Bone Chillers is finally here.” I maneuvered the words around the wad of chicken in my mouth. “It feels like we’ve been waiting forever to see that movie.”

  Nora looked at me with feigned surprise. “Oh, are you going? I thought you hated horror movies.”

  I put my sandwich down.

  “Is Aunt Marianne gonna bring you?” Cassie chimed in. “Or maybe you and Silver?”

  I shook my head. “Why are you acting like this?”

  “Like what?” Nora asked innocently.

  “Like you hate me all of a sudden. It’s not like I can help what’s going on, you know.”

  “We wouldn’t know,” Nora replied. “Because you won’t tell us anything about her.”

  I stood up. “I wasn’t talking about Silver. I was talking about me.”

  And with that, I took my tray, dumped it into the garbage can by the door, and wandered over to the little sapling by the chain link fence. I leaned against the wires as I took out my pencil.