The Vanderbeekers Lost and Found

by Karina Yan Glaser

  After dinner, Mama served slices of pound cake with generous spoonfuls of raspberry compote and a swirl of whipped cream. Then Miss Josie took Isa’s seat on the couch so she could be next to Orlando. Everyone gathered around, waiting and watching. Orlando, realizing that all eyes were on him, froze mid-chew.

  Miss Josie put her hand on Orlando’s. “Orlando, how are things going with you?”

  Orlando swallowed, then coughed. Isa passed him her glass of water.

  He took a sip. “Things are fine.” Nine pairs of eyes looked at him. “Um, how are all of you doing? Am I missing something? I feel like I’m missing something.”

  “I just want to make sure everything is okay,” Miss Josie said. “I haven’t heard from your mom lately.”

  Orlando’s face went carefully blank. “She’s fine.”

  “Really?” Miss Josie asked.

  “Yep,” Orlando said, staring down at his dessert plate.

  “What’s she doing tonight?” Miss Josie probed.

  There was a long silence. The brownstone itself seemed to still, as if holding its breath.

  Finally, Jessie couldn’t hold it in anymore. She jumped to her feet. “Stop lying to us!” she bit out, her voice ringing throughout the room, her hands jammed on her hips. “Tell us the truth.”

  A long silence followed, everyone frozen in the moment.

  “You found out,” Orlando said at last, his voice quiet, his shoulders hunched in surrender.

  Jessie deflated. “Then it’s true. You’re the one who’s been sleeping in the garden shed.”

  Orlando looked up, then nodded. “Yes.”

  “Orlando, honey, why didn’t you say anything?” Miss Josie said, tears springing into her eyes. “Why didn’t you come to us?”

  “I thought she was coming back,” Orlando said, his eyes pleading. “She sometimes disappears for a few days, but this time she didn’t come back for a week. I kept calling, but she never picked up the phone. Please don’t call the police on her.”

  Miss Josie stilled. “Oh, Orlando, I don’t want her to get in trouble either, but she abandoned you and left you without a place to live. When I think about you living in that shed, all alone . . .”

  “Wait, your mom just disappears?” Laney said. She looked at Mama in panic.

  “I promise I won’t,” Mama said, blinking rapidly.

  “It’s fine,” Orlando said. “She’s done this before. I thought she would come back, but then Mr. Carvel started asking about the rent. When I got the eviction notice, I had no choice. I had to leave.”

  “I thought it was only that one time . . . when you stayed with us that summer. Has it happened more than that?” Miss Josie asked, her face stricken.

  Orlando shifted in his seat. “There might have been a few more times back in Georgia. But it wasn’t very long, and I stayed with Aunt Tammy.”

  “Wait, isn’t Aunt Tammy the one who smells like boiled cabbage and complains about you eating too much?” Jessie asked.

  Orlando shrugged. “She’s not that bad.”

  “I don’t understand why you didn’t come to us,” Miss Josie told him. “We were right here. We could have helped. To think you’ve been living in the shed . . .”

  “You’ve had so much going on,” Orlando said, his eyes darting to Mr. Jeet. “I didn’t want to make a big deal about it. I thought my mom was coming back, and I didn’t want to inconvenience you . . .”

  “You are not an inconvenience, and you are not going back to that shed. You’re living with us now.”

  “I couldn’t do that, Aunt Josie,” he said. “There’s more space for me in Georgia. I can always stay with Aunt Tammy again. My mom will probably end up back there anyway. She never liked the city.”

  “You can’t move to Georgia,” Laney said. “We need you here!”

  “You’re not going,” Oliver said flatly. “We won’t let you.”

  Orlando looked at Miss Josie. “I can’t stay here. This place is too small for another person.”

  “Nonsense,” Miss Josie said, waving a hand. “I’ve already fixed up our bedroom for you. I was planning on sleeping in the living room anyway, since the hospital bed is here. The bedroom is empty.”

  “But, Aunt Josie—”

  “Who’s going to help me train for the marathon if you leave?” Mr. Beiderman demanded.

  “The other guys can—” Orlando began.

  “What about this year’s science fair plans?” Jessie asked. “We’ve got to keep our winning streak going.”

  “You’re the science genius,” Orlando said. “You don’t need me.”

  “Don’t you want to stay here?” Laney interjected. Orlando hesitated. “I do, but—”

  Miss Josie grabbed his hand. “Stay until the marathon. That’s only two weeks away. Take some time to think about what you want, and meanwhile, we’ll keep looking for your mom. If it doesn’t work out for you to stay here, we’ll find another solution. And if you want to go back to Georgia in two weeks, we’ll make the arrangements.”

  “Aunt Josie . . .” Orlando began again.

  “Don’t you even think about arguing with me right now, Orlando,” Miss Josie said, her eyebrows set in a firm line. “Mr. Jeet and I love you more than the moon and the stars. We are family, and this is how we are handling the situation right now.” Her voice broke.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Orlando replied.

  And the Vanderbeekers, Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet, and Mr. Beiderman—all the people who loved him—watched as Orlando quietly excused himself and went into Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet’s bedroom, now his own temporary bedroom, and closed the door.

  Six

  Later, back in their apartment, Isa reflected that in all the years she had known Orlando, she had never met his mom. When he’d lived with Mr. Jeet and Miss Josie four summers ago, he’d come alone on a plane while his mom had stayed in Georgia. And since he had moved to Harlem, his mother hadn’t once come to their Mega Family Dinners, when everyone who lived in the brownstone joined them. Isa had asked Orlando about it, but he always had an excuse for his mom: she was busy at work, she was out with friends, she didn’t feel well. This, Isa now realized, should have raised alarm bells. Most of her friends mentioned their parents at least once in a while. Her friend Allegra loved to complain about her workaholic parents, who were both pediatricians, but Isa knew that they were around—she saw them when she dropped by Allegra’s house.

  Orlando, on the other hand, had always been mysterious about his family. Isa wondered if he talked to Jessie about it.

  “Hey,” Isa said, grabbing Jessie’s hand and pulling her to her feet. “Let’s go pick up Orlando’s things from the garden.”

  Jessie let herself be dragged out of the brownstone, and the twins walked to the garden in silence. After entering the gates, they made their way through the winding vines and plants toward the back fence. The sun was setting, and a dusky quiet had descended.

  Jessie paused when she opened the door to the shed. It was dark and cold inside. She stood there, staring into the tiny, damp space.

  Isa looked over Jessie’s shoulder into the inky darkness. How could Orlando sleep there? It was seriously creepy. Isa didn’t even like going in there to grab gardening equipment; she always made Jessie or Oliver do it.

  Jessie stepped all the way in and sank onto a bag of soil.

  “I can’t believe he’s been living in here,” she said. “Why didn’t he ask for help? We would have helped him!”

  Isa sat down next to Jessie and put an arm around her shoulders. “Maybe he felt ashamed? Or he hoped his mom would come back?”

  Jessie’s hands clenched into fists. “I’m his best friend. Shouldn’t he tell me things? Isn’t that what friends do? Shouldn’t I have known that they got evicted? And that he was living in a freaking shed?”

  And for the first time in many years, Jessie began to cry.

  * * *

  Jessie had kept it together all day. She had kept it together when s
he went to Orlando’s apartment building and learned about him and his mom being evicted. She’d made it through that very painful dinner, and she’d even kept her cool when Orlando confessed to sleeping in the shed. But now, sitting in the darkness, feeling the cold wind blow through the slats of the shed walls, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. The sobs burst from her chest as if she would explode if they didn’t come out. She felt Isa holding her tight, trying to keep her from floating off into that place where grief goes.

  Just when she thought she had a handle on herself, she imagined Orlando packing his stuff up and closing the door to his apartment for the last time. Orlando opening the shed and trying to find a comfortable place to sleep. Orlando thinking there was no option but to figure it out on his own.

  Finally, Jessie felt as if she had cried every last tear out of her body. Isa continued to rub her back as Jessie took one final swipe at her eyes. “I’m okay,” she told Isa. “Thanks.”

  “We’ll get through this,” Isa told her.

  Seven

  Hyacinth, Oliver, and Laney stood in front of the living room window, waiting for Isa and Jessie to return from the garden with Orlando’s things. Mama and Papa were up in their room, speaking in such hushed whispers that none of the kids could tell what they were saying, even when their ears were pressed against the door.

  It was eight thirty, and the sun had set an hour earlier. Laney was supposed to be getting ready for bed. Franz perched his front feet on the windowsill, howling whenever a dog or a bike passed by. Tuxedo paced back and forth, hiding herself behind the curtains and occasionally popping out to surprise Franz. George Washington watched from the other armchair, his eyes half-shut and his tail flicking lazily.

  “Do you think Orlando will go back to Georgia?” Hyacinth asked.

  Laney took a break from chewing on the neck of her shirt. “Of course not. He can’t leave us. We need him.”

  “That’s not how it works,” Oliver said. “I mean, he always talks about how pretty Georgia is. It doesn’t get super cold in the winter like it does here, and you know how he hates being cold. Plus he misses football.”

  Laney shrugged. “He does lots of sports here. He’s really good at running.”

  Oliver shook his head. “Running isn’t the same. Football is in his blood.”

  “Eww!” Laney said, scrunching her nose. “His blood? Yuck!”

  “Football is dangerous,” Hyacinth reported. “Like, he could die from getting hit in the head. That’s why he needs to stay here with us. He can be a professional runner instead.”

  Oliver’s eyes lit up. “You know what? There’s a prize for winning the marathon. Maybe Orlando can win the marathon and get rich, and then he could get his own apartment and he wouldn’t have to worry about money.”

  “Ooh, good idea!” Laney said, her eyes brightening.

  “You can’t run in the marathon until you’re eighteen,” Hyacinth said. “Remember?”

  “But Mr. Beiderman is running it!” Laney said. “Maybe he can win the marathon and give the money to Orlando.” She beamed, confident that the problem had been solved.

  Oliver rolled his eyes. “The chances of Mr. Beiderman winning the marathon are zero in a billion.”

  “Papa says we can do anything if we put our minds to it,” Laney said. “I believe Mr. Beiderman can win!”

  Oliver banged his forehead against the window a few times. “Where are they?” he grumbled.

  “I see them!” Laney yelled as her sisters’ familiar silhouettes appeared under a streetlamp.

  The three Vanderbeeker kids, plus Franz and Tuxedo, raced to the door and threw it open.

  “Yikes! What happened to your face?” Oliver asked Jessie.

  “Nothing! Geez,” Jessie said, rubbing her eyes and turning away from her younger siblings.

  “It looks like you had an allergic reaction,” Oliver continued. “Your eyes are all puffy.”

  Isa jabbed her elbow into his side. “Seriously, Oliver, stop it.

  “We’ve been waiting and waiting for you,” Laney said. “I’m supposed to be getting ready for bed, but I’m not tired at all.”

  “I need to be by myself,” Jessie mumbled as she headed up the stairs.

  “By yourself?” Laney exclaimed. “Really?”

  Jessie didn’t turn back.

  “She needs some space,” Isa said to Laney, resting a hand on her shoulder.

  They heard Jessie’s footsteps heading to the bedroom, followed by the familiar screech of a window sliding open.

  “She’s going to the REP,” Oliver noted.

  The REP, or Roof of Epic Proportions, was at the top of the brownstone and was accessible by the fire-escape stairs outside Jessie and Isa’s bedroom, as well as by a hatch on the third floor in front of Mr. Beiderman’s apartment.

  “It’s a good place to think,” Hyacinth said, nodding.

  “I want to go up there too,” Laney said, tugging at Isa’s hand.

  Isa pulled her into a hug, and Laney sank into her sister’s embrace.

  “Why do bad things happen to good people?” Laney asked.

  Isa rocked her back and forth. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem right, does it?”

  * * *

  Jessie climbed up the fire escape, her footsteps light as she made her way to the roof. One floor up, she passed Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet’s apartment. The bedroom window was cracked open, but the shades were drawn. Jessie planned to keep going up, but the sound of Miss Josie’s voice stopped her.

  “I just got a phone call from your mom,” Miss Josie said.

  “Is she okay?” Orlando asked. “Can I talk to her?”

  Jessie inched closer to the window so she could hear better.

  “She called from a pay phone,” Miss Josie said. “Our conversation was so brief, I didn’t have a chance to ask her anything before she hung up.”

  “She didn’t want to talk to me?” Orlando asked.

  “She said she tried to call you but the call didn’t go through.”

  “My phone stopped working last week,” Orlando said. “I guess she didn’t pay the bill.”

  “Oh, honey,” Miss Jeet said. “We’ll get that connected again right away. I’m sure she’ll call soon.”

  There was a long silence, then Orlando’s voice: “Where was she?”

  “She’s on her way to Georgia. She wants you to go down there and stay with Aunt Tammy again, and she’ll get you when she has a job and an apartment.”

  Another long silence.

  “Unless . . .” Miss Josie began.

  “Unless what?” Orlando asked, his voice rough and tired.

  “Unless you want to stay here. With us. Permanently.”

  “I couldn’t do that,” Orlando said. “I already feel awful about taking your bedroom.”

  “We would love it if you stayed. We could apply for guardianship,” Miss Josie said.

  “Can I think about it?” Orlando asked.

  “Of course,” Miss Josie said, “but I want you to stay here at least until the marathon while we work on some options for you.”

  The light flicked off, and the bedroom went dark. Jessie leaned closer, wanting to knock on the glass, but she changed her mind and silently went up the fire escape, her mind filled with all she had just heard.

  * * *

  “It’s time for a family meeting,” Hyacinth said to Laney and Isa as she brushed Franz’s fur.

  “Did someone say ‘family meeting’?” Oliver asked, popping his head into Hyacinth and Laney’s room.

  “Why do we need a family meeting?” Isa asked as she tidied up her sisters’ room. She grabbed discarded clothes and threw them into the hamper, gathered Franz’s dog toys and tossed them into a basket, and placed books back on the shelves.

  Laney rolled her eyes. “Because of Orlando.”

  Isa shook her head. “I don’t think we should get involved.”

  Oliver, Hyacinth, and Laney were aghast.

  “Why n
ot?” Laney asked.

  “We always get involved. Always!” Hyacinth exclaimed.

  “Has Jessie had enough alone time yet?” Laney asked, looking at her wrist even though she had never worn a watch in her life. “Let’s go up to the REP.”

  Isa shook her head. “It’s time for bed.”

  “Please?” Laney asked. “Pleasepleaseplease?”

  Isa sighed. “Okay, but only for a few minutes.”

  The Vanderbeekers went to the twins’ bedroom and raided the closet for cozy hoodies. Laney put on her favorite, Isa’s dark-green summer camp sweatshirt. It went down to her knees, and she had to roll up the sleeves five times before her hands showed.

  The window was already open from Jessie’s exit, so the Vanderbeekers piled onto the fire escape and started ascending the creaky metal stairs. They passed Mr. Jeet and Miss Josie’s living room window. Mr. Jeet lay in his new hospital bed, the back raised so he could watch the news. Miss Josie was sitting next to him, knitting. She waved as she saw the kids go up. The fire escape also passed by the second-floor bedroom, but it was dark and the shades were drawn.

  They continued their journey up and went by Mr. Beiderman’s apartment. Mr. Beiderman was nowhere to be seen, but Princess Cutie was perched in the windowsill, and she batted the window as they passed.

  “She’s giving us high fives!” Laney squealed, putting her palm on the window to return the gesture.

  Usually Mr. Beiderman liked to work after dinner. He used his small second bedroom as an office, and it was there that he did his mysterious art history stuff. None of the Vanderbeekers quite knew what his work consisted of. Sometimes he went to conferences, and other times they saw him lugging heavy books up to his apartment. Once Orlando had asked him about a project he was working on, and Mr. Beiderman spoke about expanding or potentially deconstructing the art history canon. Laney had been instantly confused; it sounded as if Mr. Beiderman was talking about shooting cannons at paintings. When he had finally stopped half an hour later, the Vanderbeekers were politely nodding even though they had no idea what he had been saying. Orlando, however, had nodded in agreement, as if the deconstruction of the art history canon made complete sense to him.