Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere

by Julie T. Lamana

  I turned just in time to see a big ol’ tire, like the kind that goes on a school bus or eighteen-wheeler, bouncing off the front of Mr. Oscar’s boat.

  “Will ya look at that,” Mr. Oscar mumbled under his breath.

  “Armani, look!” Sealy said, pointing at the sight.

  The Boman kids . . . clinging for dear life up inside a tire boat.

  All four of the kids stared at us. They didn’t say hey or nothing. They just slowly drifted past us. They wore pajamas and were even filthier than usual. I tore my eyes away from them and stole a look at Sealy and Khayla.

  Right then I knew the only difference between them Boman kids and us was the color of our skin. I couldn’t help but wonder if their daddy was floating somewhere, or if their mama was standing stubborn on a roof.

  The littlest Boman kid lifted his arm like it weighed a ton and tried to wave a tired wave. Tears fell from his droopy blue eyes, running streaks right through the grime on his face. Sealy waved back all slow, and started a new flood of tears all her own before burying her face in the top of her book sack.

  “You know them?” Mr. Oscar asked.

  Without taking my eyes off the tire full of kids, I answered, “No, sir, not really. They just ride our bus.” I ain’t sure why, but right then, maybe ’cause of the look in the oldest boy’s eyes, I felt like maybe I did know them.

  “Armani!” Mama hollered off in the distance, jumping up and down and waving one arm in the air.

  “Sealy! Armani! Come back! Hurry!” Mama screamed. Something had Mama in hysterics.

  “Go back!” I yelled at Mr. Oscar.

  “We can’t go back,” the man said. “I promised your mama I’d get you kids somewhere safe.”

  Sealy stood up and the little boat tilted to one side. “Please, Mr. Oscar,” she said in that sweet way of hers.

  Without another word, Mr. Oscar Dupree turned his boat around. He zigzagged around floating trees, knocked-down telephone poles, chunks of people’s houses, and lots of things I couldn’t or didn’t wanna recognize—and we headed back to Mama.

  Wheezing. Loud wheezing, a sound I never thought I’d be grateful to hear. It’s on account of that terrible sound that Mama was forced to come to her senses.

  No one had to talk her into getting in the boat. Mama all but jumped right off that roof when we came up alongside the house.

  “What’s going on with that boy?” Poor Mr. Oscar looked like he was about to kick all of us off his boat, just for being too much trouble.

  Mama’s voice was loud and strong. “He’s having an asthma attack and the inhaler’s empty. I have to get to a hospital.” I liked the sound of Mama being strong.

  “I can’t take ya to a hospital.” Mr. Oscar looked nervous and wore out like the rest of us. “I hear they got some Red Cross folks scattered about,” he said while steering the boat in the direction of safety.

  “Yes! Take us there,” Mama said. “But, Mr. Dupree, please hurry.”

  The man looked at Kheelin struggling to breathe in Mama’s arms. He turned his dirty ball cap around backward and stood up tall and straight, poking his extra-round belly out. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and nodded at Mama. He handed her an ice-cold water from his Styrofoam cooler. “Don’t y’all worry. That young boy’s gonna be fine once we get him cooled down.” The man was right, ’cause after Mama rubbed water bottles from the cooler along Kheelin’s back and face, the wheezing all but stopped.

  “Now y’all sit down and let’s see how fast we can get ol’ Nessie goin’.”

  “Who’s Nessie?” Sealy asked. She pulled out her stashed Hubig’s pie, took the tiniest nibble, then slid it back into her book sack.

  Mr. Oscar tapped his hand on the outside of the boat. “This here’s Nessie, darlin’. She might not look like much, but she gets me up and down the bayou just fine.”

  Sealy giggled. “That’s funny. You named your boat Nessie.”

  “Yup,” Mr. Oscar said. Then he looked down at my sister and gave her that smile of his that reminded me of Santa Claus. “Ol’ Nessie outrunned four gators in one day, yeah she did.”

  “Really?” Sealy believed everything.

  While they went on talking, my eyes met Mama’s. Neither one of us said anything. It was like we were talking to each other without words. Something had changed between us. I could feel it as much as I could feel the weight of Khayla putting my legs to sleep.

  CHAPTER 25

  We drifted past the first dead body when the sun was bright and high in the sky. The body was floating upside down and bonked right into the side of the boat. Mama shoved Sealy and the twins’ heads into her bosom, hiding their eyes from the sickening sight.

  I couldn’t stop staring.

  “Close your eyes,” Mama said. But I couldn’t. My eyes were wide open.

  I tried to push the ugly thoughts away of Daddy or Georgie floating out there somewhere. I felt sick.

  Nothing looked familiar. I knew we were in the Ninth Ward, where I’d been living my whole life. But I was lost.

  We drifted along in Mr. Oscar Dupree’s boat. I only counted three houses that weren’t completely under the water, or outright destroyed, or sitting cockeyed crazy like our house was.

  “Hey, over here!” a man standing on a roof yelled at us.

  “That man’s hollering at you, Mr. Oscar,” Sealy said.

  “Umhum,” he mumbled. I seen him look up at the man without moving his head.

  The man on the roof wasn’t alone. There were about ten people up there with him—some of them were kids, like Sealy and the twins. A large, heavyset woman walked to the edge of the roof and threw something. The empty Coke can landed in the boat, barely missing the side of Kheelin’s head resting in Mama’s lap.

  I jumped up, rocking the boat, and hollered, “Are you crazy? You almost hit my baby brother!”

  “Crazy?” The round woman screamed and threw a string of cusswords down at us. “I’ll show ya crazy if y’all don’t get us off this hot roof!” When that woman started flapping her fat sausage-looking arms around, I knew right away who it was.

  “Mrs. Louell! Hey, it’s me, Armani Curtis!”

  “I don’t give a rat’s behind who ya are. All’s I’m sayin’ is y’all best get that white man over here and get me an’ mine off this roof!” With every word, that woman’s voice got louder and squeakier.

  Mr. Oscar never took his eyes off the water in front of the boat. He said real quiet, so Mrs. Louell and her family couldn’t hear, “There’s no room on this here boat. I’m sorry, darlin’.”

  I stole a quick look over at Mama, and knew that Mr. Oscar was right. There wasn’t no room, especially for the likes of Mrs. Louell. But I still felt terrible just leaving them there like that.

  “Mrs. Louell, there ain’t enough room. We’ll send someone for you.” I had to turn around to shout at her ’cause we’d already drifted past their house.

  That woman and half her family threw anything and everything they could get their hands on at us. Luckily, none of them was quarterback for the Saints.

  From then on, it was mostly a quiet, bumpy, roundabout ride. I hung my head, trying to breathe in the fading lavender smells buried deep down in Khayla’s hair. I had to do something to cover up the gassy, rotten smell coming off the nasty water.

  Mama all but came up out of the boat when somewhere close by gunshots rang out and the sound of dogs barking blasted through the air.

  Mr. Oscar Dupree kept saying under his breath, “We’re almost there.” Never, one time, responding to the sights and sounds around us. I was beginning to wonder if there really was a place called “there.”

  The air in my lungs stopped moving altogether when I seen the steeple of our church sticking up out of the water. And the Bibles. There were floating Bibles everywhere.

  Sealy reached over the side of the boat and scooped one of the books out of the putrid water. It smacked with a wet thunk on the floor of the boat. None of us said nothing. But we all
knew she’d done the right thing.

  The flash of hope I got from seeing something I knew and recognized got swallowed up quick by the rush of nausea that filled my whole body.

  Uncle T-Bone’s house was gone. If the steeple was poking up out of the Bible-filled water, my good sense told me that Uncle T-Bone’s house should’ve been right there. Even if it was under the water, it should’ve been right where I was looking. But it wasn’t.

  Mama let out a gasp.

  “Y’all all right, ma’am?” Mr. Oscar asked.

  Mama squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head no.

  “We’re almost there,” he said again in that same calm voice.

  I was fixin’ to ask him once and for all if he knew where the heck he was going when my mouth snapped shut.

  Something in the water caught my eye. A wave of familiar swept through me, bringing tingles to the back of my neck. I stared and stared, trying with all my might to remember what the floating thing was, and where I’d seen it before. The thought crossed my mind to ask Sealy when out of nowhere, the answer slammed into my head.

  Floating there in the water, right along with all them waterlogged Bibles, was a big, floppy tangerine hat—the exact hat that Miss Shug, Lorraine, wore so proud on her head at my birthday party.

  I leaned over the side of the tiny metal boat named Nessie and vomited fried lemon pie and bottled water.

  CHAPTER 26

  My head was pounding and the sour taste still lingered when I seen Mr. Frank’s ol’ beat-down school bus sitting upside down on top of the building next to the doughnut shop. It was lying up there like a dead animal off to the side of the road, with its legs stuck straight up in the air, except it was the Goodyear tires pointing to the sky instead of stiff armadillo legs.

  The bright red shingles of the doughnut shop roof were poking out of the murky water. The shop my Daddy got doughnuts from at the end of every month was the only one in the whole Ninth Ward with a roof the color of snakeberry red.

  A new batch of tears went to building up when, all of a sudden, Mr. Oscar brought the little boat to a stop. “This is gonna be as far as I can take y’all,” he said.

  Mama made herself busy gathering up babies.

  “But Mr. Oscar, there ain’t nothing here.” I swooped my arm, trying to show the nice man that he’d made a mistake.

  Mr. Oscar was fiddling with his boat engine and was obviously too busy to notice that he’d stopped his boat in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by water.

  “Water’s shallow here,” Mr. Oscar said, to no one in particular. He wasn’t making no eye contact.

  “Shallow?” The familiar feeling of panic was creeping in. “What are you trying to say, Mr. Oscar?”

  “He’s saying the water’s not very deep here,” Sealy said.

  I glared at my sister. “I know what shallow means, Sealy.”

  I was surprised when Mr. Oscar was the first one to get out of the boat, mostly ’cause he didn’t have to get out at all. When he stood in the disgusting, murky water, it came up to somewhere between his kneecaps and his belly.

  Sealy picked up the damp Bible from the bottom of the boat and brushed it off with her hand.

  “Let me see, darlin’,” Mr. Oscar said, and took hold of the used-to-be-waterlogged book. He pulled a red bandanna out from his back pocket. He wrapped the Bible up in the cloth and handed it to my sister.

  Sealy just beamed. “Thank you, Mr. Oscar.”

  “Yup,” is all he said.

  Sealy put the wrapped-up book down in her book sack and nodded like she was good to go. I closed my mouth and rolled my eyes. I couldn’t believe she’d stick anything that’d been in that water inside her book sack.

  “Ground’s slippery,” Mr. Oscar Dupree said, still keeping his eyes busy not looking at any of us. “Y’all be careful ya don’t slip.”

  Whatever. It was obvious he didn’t really care, or he wouldn’t dump us like a batch of unwanted kittens on the side of the road.

  Mr. Oscar offered his hand to Mama, and she took it. She didn’t move, though. She held Kheelin with her other arm and stood there for the longest time, staring at the man whose hand she was holding.

  A feeling of relief swept over me. Mama wasn’t gonna get off the boat. She had too much good sense for that. I wondered how she was gonna inform the man that he had to take us somewhere with land. Dry land.

  Mr. Oscar gave his head a little nod, and Mama nodded back at him. “I’ve got ya, ma’am,” he said. “I ain’t gonna let ya fall.”

  Mama turned and handed Kheelin to me without saying a word. A pounding started in my head. I reached for Memaw’s locket, forgetting that Mama was still wearing it.

  Mama grabbed hold of the corner of her dress and held it up all ladylike. I hoped she wasn’t thinking that was gonna prevent it from getting wet. The boat rocked back and forth till Mama was finally up and over the side of the boat and down in the water.

  As soon as she was standing, Mama’s lime-green party dress took to floating and puffed up like a parachute all around her. The big air bubble caught up under her dress was the problem. Mama started doing her best to push the silly giant bubble down without making a fuss.

  Khayla was the first one to start laughing. “Funny, Mama!” she said, pointing at the ridiculous sight.

  Sealy’s giggle made Mama smile, and before I knew what was happening, Mr. Oscar started to chuckle. His big ol’ stomach took to bobbing up and down, causing the water to make laugh ripples.

  I’d seen enough. I set Kheelin down in the bottom of the boat and jumped over the side, not even pausing for a second to consider what I was jumping into.

  I made a terrible splash. Memaw’s boots filled with water, making my efforts to get to Mama clumsy and slow. I slapped at Mama’s dress with my hands flying every which way. I didn’t care that my splashing was getting Mama and Mr. Oscar’s faces wet. I didn’t care that I was scaring my brother and sisters to death.

  I kept on slapping till I’d shoved all of Mama’s poofed-up dress down into the water where it belonged and looked normal.

  “There,” I said, satisfied and out of breath. I looked at Mama for the first time since I’d jumped off the dry boat. The look on her face stopped me cold. Her eyes were huge, but droopy in the corners. Her mouth was turned as far down as it could’ve gone without the whole thing just slipping right off her face.

  Mr. Oscar had his head down, staring at his own big belly.

  “What?” I said, turning toward the boat. Sealy was clutching the twins. Tears streamed down her baby-looking face. Kheelin looked at me like he didn’t know who I was.

  Mama touched my arm. “Armani, are you all right?”

  “Sure, Mama. I’m just fine. Fine as pie.” My voice was extra high and disrespectful. “We’re all just fine, ain’t we, Mama?” I glared at her, sliding my head—crying.

  Mr. Oscar Dupree had his arms around me. “Hush, hush . . .” he shushed in my ear.

  I wiped my teary face into the man’s shirtsleeve.

  “You gonna be fine, bébé.”

  I nodded. I couldn’t look at him. I wiped my nose on the back of my hand. I reached into the boat and took Kheelin from Sealy. It was plain that he didn’t wanna come to me by the way he pulled away and tried to latch onto Sealy for his dear little life. I didn’t care. I gave an extra firm tug and took him anyway.

  I tried to stomp my way over to Mama, but the dang boots made it feel like I had melons tied to my feet. Kheelin sat up high on my hip, and his legs dragged through the water.

  I plopped my baby brother into Mama’s arms. I turned back to get another kid before Mama or anybody else had a chance to say a word.

  CHAPTER 27

  We slogged through the soupy water—one foot in front of the other—not even knowing if we were walking in a straight line. Every time I took a step, I’d scrunch up my toes to keep Memaw’s boots from sliding off my achy, wet feet. I tried to concentrate on counting my steps to keep fro
m thinking about what might’ve been lurking up in that thick, nasty water with us.

  Then I started to see all the people. At first it was two or three walking together, making their way through the muck, then I seen more and more. Survivors—like us. It was strange. Never in my whole life had I seen people coming together in the same place, at the same time, and not one of them saying a word. There wasn’t no, “Hey, what’s up?” or “Hi, how ya doing?” Helicopter buzz filled the air, but it couldn’t hide the sounds of the sloshing water, babies crying, dogs barking, and Mama’s sniffling.

  The heaviness up inside my own self was growing bigger and harder to carry every time another soggy, sad somebody joined our growing group. It was like all the sorrows coming together was turning into its own somebody. Everyone had the same look—scared, confused, hungry, and wore down.

  Mr. Oscar Dupree had gave us the foam cooler for one of the twins to ride in. Sealy was so scared her book sack was gonna get wet, she took it off and laid it down under Khayla in the Styrofoam boat. Sealy’s only job, besides staying upright on her own two feet, was to help push the cooler holding our little sister while I pulled.

  Every time I looked down at Khayla, I was about a hop-skip from losing it. The girl was all smiling and happy, like she was having a good ol’ time. She even said, “Go faster,” a couple times, like she was on a ride at the church carnival.

  I’d be lyin’ if I didn’t admit that I had more than one thought of wishing I were small enough to ride in the cooler and let someone else worry about hauling my butt through the water while I sat all dry and happy. The thoughts didn’t stick around long ’cause I was too busy pulling the dumb Styrofoam boat, switching from my right arm to my left every few minutes.

  I dragged my stupid heavy feet through the slime. Heavy on account of the ridiculous, ugly boots. Memaw’s boots. Heavy ’cause they didn’t fit. Didn’t fit ’cause Memaw didn’t have enough sense to find shoes that fit. I wiped my idiot tears and snot on my shoulder. Memaw should’ve known they’d fill up with water. She shouldn’t have died in the attic. Everything was so heavy.