Azalea, Unschooled

by Liza Kleinman

  We made our way to the kitchen, where Spirit was ladling out mugs full of soup. It reminded me of the unschool meeting, when I’d first met Gabby.

  Paper moon cutouts hung all around the food table. I tried to find potato chips, but Spirit only served chips made from loftier vegetables. I selected a pinkish one that might have been a radish once. I stuck one end of it into a bowl of bean dip and ate it quickly so I wouldn’t have to taste it. I wondered if Gabby had made any cookies, and I felt a sadness slip into my throat.

  And then Gabby was standing there, greeting us even before Spirit had seen us.

  “Welcome!” she said, but it seemed more like she was talking to my family as a whole, not to me in particular. “Happy Midsummer!”

  “Happy Midsummer!” we all said.

  “Aha! It’s the boatbuilders!” Spirit said to Zenith and me, sloshing soup onto the counter.

  She turned to my parents. “Learning through doing! What a wonderful way to gain understanding.”

  I waited for Zenith to say something about how she was gaining understanding at school, too, just to needle Spirit.

  “It is a great way,” Zenith agreed. “I’m learning some really interesting stuff in my math class too, but we don’t talk much about how to use it in real life. That’s something I think unschoolers do a lot better—apply ideas to real life.”

  Spirit nodded toward Zenith, smiling.

  Zenith smiled back. They seemed to have reached some sort of truce. They might even have been on their way toward becoming great friends.

  Maybe if we moved to Texas, I could find a nice llama to be my friend.

  “The kids are all outside,” Gabby announced. “Come on.”

  I couldn’t tell if she was talking just to Zenith, or to me, too.

  We followed her through the kitchen door to the backyard.

  The sun was very low, and the mosquitoes were out. Spirit had put citronella candles around the deck to discourage them, but it didn’t do any good. The air was growing cool. I had on a short-sleeved T-shirt, and I shivered a little, slapping at my arm where something had bitten me. At least I was wearing jeans. Zenith must have been freezing in her thin skirt.

  I could see Gibran and Charlie across the lawn. The boat was in front of the shed, upside down on two wooden sawhorses. They were on their hands and knees in the damp grass, studying it from beneath.

  Zenith headed right over to join them. A few other kids I didn’t recognize darted around. Someone rocked back and forth in the tire swing, and in the distance I could hear Nola’s shrieky laugh.

  Gabby and I stood side by side, looking across the lawn at the boat. Someone raced by, calling out to her, and Gabby lifted a hand in response. We stood there a while longer.

  I spoke first.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything. It was stupid of me to say that about Nola. I didn’t mean to make you upset. I’m really sorry, Gabby.”

  I felt Gabby’s hand on my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry I got so mad,” she said. “It’s just that . . . I know Nola can be annoying. I know you don’t like her. But she’s not a bad person. I don’t think she would do something like that.”

  “I know,” I said.

  But I didn’t know. I felt like I didn’t know much of anything.

  “The thing is,” Gabby went on, “I’ve known Nola forever. Our families are really close, and we do unschooling stuff together and everything. It’s like she’s related to me. I didn’t exactly pick her, but she’s there.”

  “She sure lets you know she’s there,” I said.

  “I know.” Gabby dropped her hand and turned to me. “Azalea, the thing is, I need both of you. Nola is like my cousin or something, but you’re my best friend. And it’s really hard for me if the two of you don’t get along.”

  I felt tears come to my eyes. We were still best friends. Gabby was still my friend.

  “I understand what you’re saying,” I said. “I’ll try harder to like Nola—or at least to get along with her.”

  Gabby smiled. “Thanks.”

  We stood in silence for a minute.

  Gabby looked across the lawn. “Looks like Zenith is hard at work.”

  Zenith had bent down to look underneath the boat with the boys. She crouched on the grass next to them, carefully holding her skirt against the back of her legs.

  “She’s worried that her homederwear is going to show,” I said.

  And then Spirit was outside, leading a brigade of adult guests, clapping her hands together.

  “Everyone, everyone!” she shouted. “Can we gather in a circle? It’s almost that time!”

  “Here it comes,” said Gabby.

  “Here what comes? What’s it almost time for?” I asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  Zenith and the boys came over from the boat. Someone bounced across the yard and flung an arm around Gabby. Nola. It was hard to see color in the failing light, but I was almost sure she was wearing pink.

  Everyone arranged themselves into a ring. Lucky the yard is so big, I thought. I saw my parents across the circle, and though I couldn’t make out the expression on Dad’s face, I could imagine it. It was the same look he’d had when he asked my mother if she was going to be paid in root vegetables.

  Spirit stepped into the middle of the circle and raised her arms to the sky. She tipped her face upward and her long hair fell back. Her loose-fitting dress billowed and swung around her.

  I glanced up at the sky to see what she was looking at. It wasn’t the best night for stargazing. Some clouds hung low, and there was a glow where they obscured the moon.

  Spirit lowered her gaze to the circle of guests and began to speak with what I was beginning to recognize as her leading-the-people voice.

  “Hello, friends,” she intoned. “Those of you who have celebrated the midsummer full moon with us before are aware of a certain tradition we have.”

  A low wave of laughter spread across the yard. Whatever the tradition was, it was apparently pretty funny.

  “And for those of you who are new to our celebration, I welcome you and urge you to join in without reservation.”

  She paused, allowing suspense to build, and I waited for her to deliver the big news.

  “We gather on this midsummer’s evening beneath the light and the healing power of the moon. I encourage you all to feel her energy. I encourage you all to let the healing energy in, and let the negative energy go. Let out the sorrows and the disappointments of the past. Acknowledge them, and then let them go. Send them flying off into the universe without judgment. They are the past.”

  Then Spirit tipped her head back again, so that it faced the dark sky. She took a deep breath and let out an enormous, eerie howl, a long, clear, strange sound that sliced through the dark.

  “Now, everyone,” she commanded, “howl!”

  The sound multiplied as Spirit’s guests joined in.

  I hesitated. I had never howled before.

  I looked at my family, and none of them were howling. Nola’s fists were clenched and her throat was working; she must have been waiting all year to let loose.

  Next to me, Gabby nudged me with her elbow.

  “Come on, try it. It feels good.”

  She turned her own face toward the cloudy blotch of moonlight and let out a surprisingly loud howl.

  I joined her.

  “Howwwoooooo,” I yelled, and it did feel good. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever made that loud a noise before, even yelling at Zenith. I howled again, and a third time. I could barely hear myself over the noise everyone was making, but I could feel the rawness in my throat, the exhilaration of hurtling sound out into the night.

  I looked over at Zenith; she was howling. So was Mom. Dad was looking at the ground. Either he’d finished howling, or he didn’t plan to start.

  And then it was done. Spirit held her arms up for a moment of silence, and then she turned silently and walked back inside the house. Most of the people followed
her.

  “There’s cake in there,” Gabby explained to me.

  Still, we didn’t go inside. We stood in the yard, which was dark now, and cold.

  “The boys and Zenith forgot to cover the boat,” Gabby said. “And it’s supposed to rain tomorrow.”

  We walked to the corner of the yard and each of us grabbed a corner of the tarp that lay crumpled on the grass. We yanked it up over the boat.

  “Not that water should hurt a boat,” Gabby pointed out. “But we’ll need it to be dry when we paint it. Maybe in a couple of days, if it isn’t raining.”

  She bent down and picked something up.

  “I keep finding stuff out here that belongs in the shed,” she told me. I could see that something was glinting in her hand. “The other day it was an extension cord, sitting right out in the grass.” She bent to the ground again. “Here’s another. Nails. All over the yard.”

  Our eyes met and then we looked away from one another. Neither of us wanted to think about that day at the store. I helped Gabby collect the nails from the cool grass and we put them on top of the tarp.

  “Azalea?” Gabby asked when we were done. “Is it true that you might move away?”

  I jammed my hands into my pockets. It was really chilly, now that the sun had set all the way.

  “Who told you that?” Was it Nola? I almost asked. But I stopped myself.

  “Gibran said that Zenith mentioned it, one day when you guys were over here working on the boat. He just told me about it this morning. He said Zenith told him you were probably moving to Texas.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “It’s not true, is it?”

  There was silence.

  “Zenith thinks it’s true,” I admitted, finally. “But Mom says no one is going anywhere right now.”

  “Why does Zenith think it’s true?” Gabby’s voice sounded strained.

  “Oh, she has this idea. She says it’s logic. She says the same conditions lead to the same outcome. Meaning, that if you keep doing things the same way, they’ll always end the same way. Like, Dad tries a new business and it doesn’t make any money, and then he gets a new idea about something else he can try, and we move again.”

  Saying all this depressed me. I had been trying to forget about it.

  “And is this just like those other times?” asked Gabby.

  “Not for me, it isn’t,” I said. “I never made such a great friend before.”

  Gabby put her arm around me and gave me a squeeze.

  “And it’s different for Mom, too,” I continued. “She’s got her own work now. She’s got clients, and she’s getting more of them. So that’s different. That’s a reason to stay.”

  I began to feel a little better.

  “What about Zenith?”

  I thought a minute.

  “I don’t know. She definitely likes working on the boat. She likes her math class. And you heard what she said to Spirit inside. She likes doing unschooling stuff along with taking her class. I think she’s pretty happy, for Zenith.”

  “She must be pretty unhappy, though,” Gabby pointed out, “if she likes it here but she’s convinced you’re moving again.”

  “She is convinced of that,” I agreed. “She even said we probably wouldn’t get to see the boat painted.”

  “No!” Gabby cried. “But we’re going to do that really soon!”

  “I know! It’s like, not only is she totally sure we’re moving, she thinks it’s going to happen any second now!”

  “Maybe she wants it to be like ripping off a Band-Aid,” Gabby said thoughtfully.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe she thinks that the faster it happens, the less it will hurt. Maybe that’s why she’s talking about leaving so soon.”

  I turned this over in my mind. “Maybe so.”

  The back door to the house flew open, throwing a triangle of light onto the deck, and a familiar figure loped toward us.

  “Gabs! There you are! Aren’t you coming in for cake?”

  “In a second, Nole,” Gabby called.

  I hoped that would send Nola back inside, but no; she had honed in on Gabby and was heading our way. Nothing would stop her until she’d yanked Gabby away from me and pulled her across the yard.

  In the seconds before she reached us, Gabby spoke to me in a quick whisper. “You don’t still think Nola did it, do you, Azalea?”

  “No,” I told her, because at that very moment, just before Nola wrapped her hand around Gabby’s arm and began piloting her toward the house, I finally saw everything clearly.

  I understood exactly who had vandalized the bus.

  Chapter 11

  Unschool Work

  “I have to find my family,” I told Gabby, pushing past her and Nola. “I have to get inside.”

  I ran into the house, where people were eating slices of cake off small, fragile plates.

  I found my parents and Zenith standing near the food table.

  “Can we go?” I asked.

  Mom took a close look at my face. “Are you okay, Azalea?”

  I wasn’t; I felt sick to my stomach.

  “I’m just tired,” I said. “I’m ready to go home.”

  Everyone was starting to leave, anyway. Apparently after the howling and the cake, the party was finished. First, though, Mom had to locate Spirit, and then wait her turn in a tangle of guests to thank her for having us over. Spirit had to hug each one of us, and then she called Gabby over to tell us good-bye, and then there was another round of hugging.

  It took a long time for us to reach our car, and when we did, we rode home in silence.

  I waited until Zenith and I were in our bedroom with the door shut, and then I let her have it.

  “I know it was you,” I said, shaking a little. Every nerve in me felt alive, hot with anger.

  “What was me?” she asked, half-listening, rummaging through her bureau for her night things.

  “The bus,” I said.

  Zenith turned around.

  “What are you talking about?”

  She folded her arms across her chest and looked at me scornfully, but I wasn’t fooled. I understood now. It all made sense.

  “You did it. You took Dad’s keys and rode your bike to the garage. You probably stole his map showing how to get there when you stole the keys.”

  My voice sounded different, louder and sharper than normal.

  “You bought the red spray paint and wrote those words, and later you took a hammer and nails from Gabby’s house and hammered the nails into the bus tire.”

  Zenith tried to keep the scornful look in her eyes, but I knew her too well. I could see the layers of fear and sadness underneath.

  “And why would I have done that?” she asked.

  “Because,” I said, my voice rising, “you never wanted to come here. You never believed that Dad could make this work. All you wanted was to see him fail, so you could say ‘I told you so’ to everyone, and talk about how every one of his businesses fails, and go around in a terrible mood and make everyone feel bad and be better than everyone with your math and your know-it-all-ness and your going to school and not being a real part of the family!”

  “That’s not true!” Zenith said. She was crying now; I had made her cry, and it felt good. She deserved to cry.

  “I did not want to go around saying he failed. I just knew that he would. Because yes, he always fails. He starts something and he doesn’t finish it, and then we all have to move and he tries something else and something goes wrong and we have to leave.”

  Zenith blotted her nose with a tissue and took a shuddering breath before continuing.

  “You saw the tour he gave that day we were on the bus. He didn’t know anything. He had no idea what to say when he had to take a different street. It never occurred to him to try to learn anything other than what was on those original tour notes. And your writing those facts for him wasn’t going to change things. Nothing is going to change who he is.”


  I watched Zenith. I forced myself to speak calmly. I would not cry. This was Zenith’s time to cry, not mine.

  “So what was your plan, Zenith? What did you think would happen? We would go back to Connecticut and the orchard would be waiting for us and we’d never have to move again? Or we’d go to Texas and somehow that would be better than being here?”

  “I didn’t have a plan,” Zenith whispered. “I just figured that if he was going to make a mess of this and move us somewhere else, it might as well happen sooner rather than later. Before we got settled in here and it got harder to leave.”

  “That’s idiotic,” I said. “That makes no sense.”

  But I understood it completely. It was exactly what Gabby had said about the Band-Aid. Furthermore, it was probably true. It would hurt less the sooner it happened. It would have hurt a lot less if I’d never met Gabby—but what did Zenith care about that?

  The anger surged up in me again.

  “What about me?” I demanded. “How incredibly selfish was it for you to try to ruin things between Gabby and me?”

  “I had nothing to do with your fight with Gabby. You’re the one who stupidly told her you thought it was Nola.”

  “Don’t call me stupid!” I screamed. “And I’m not talking about that—I’m talking about never seeing her again if we move away! You’re going to make us have to move away!”

  The tears I’d been holding back streamed down, and then our door flew open and Mom and Dad were in the room with us.

  “What is this?” Mom asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Tell them,” I shouted, mopping tears off my face with my wrist.

  Mom and Dad stared at us. Zenith looked back at them, defiant and ashamed. For several seconds, no one moved. Then Zenith spoke.

  “I’m the one who did the stuff to the bus.”

  Mom and Dad said nothing. I saw Mom’s face twist into disbelief. Dad’s jaw set. We all stood and waited. The sudden quiet made my ears ring. It seemed like we stood there for a long time, not moving.

  “And why did you do that?” Dad asked finally, his voice low and level. “Why did you frighten your family and cost me hundreds of dollars in repairs and lost time? Do you have a reason?”