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    Macy McMillan and the Rainbow Goddess

    Page 8
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      where Alan was born

      what his full name is

      and let her think I needed the facts

      for my project.

      Now, Olivia types his name

      in the search box.

      Ms. Cleary wanders toward us.

      I elbow Olivia

      and she glances up

      clicking over to the library’s homepage

      just as Ms. Cleary

      stops

      at our desk.

      Need any help?

      she asks

      and we both shake our heads

      say no

      a little too quickly.

      Ms. Cleary’s smile disappears.

      She says something

      I don’t catch

      but when she comes around behind us

      to glance at the monitor

      I know

      she’s suspicious.

      Olivia starts talking

      signs for my benefit

      babbles about how you never really know

      the true stories about people’s past.

      Why did she say

      all that?

      She looks super-guilty

      even though digging for the truth

      is maybe not

      such a terrible thing

      to do.

      Ms. Cleary’s eyebrows

      knit together

      so I jump in

      start signing

      tell her about Marjorie.

      She shakes her head

      says

      I don’t understand.

      I start again

      and Olivia interprets for Ms. Cleary

      tries to keep up

      signals me to

      s l o w d o w n.

      I sigh

      then try one more time

      to tell her about Marjorie

      the pilot

      how you’d never guess it

      to look at her now

      —but why not?

      Why do we think

      we can know anything about a person

      by how they look

      what they can do

      what life is like for them now?

      Because it turns out

      we really can’t.

      The only way to know that stuff

      is if someone

      tells you the story.

      Whew.

      I blab even more

      than Olivia.

      Olivia takes a minute

      to catch up with my words

      does the best she can

      gives up when my hands

      get going too quickly again

      but even so

      Ms. Cleary’s eyebrows

      finally relax.

      She walks away

      disappears into the stacks

      comes back a few minutes later

      with a smile and a book

      about women

      in aviation.

      She hands the book to me

      says

      Maybe your friend

      is in here.

      Then she shrugs

      says, “You never know.”

      You never do.

      Which reminds me of my mission

      which is about Alan

      not Marjorie

      or airplanes

      or history

      but

      I’m definitely checking out this book

      for later.

      Ms. Cleary goes back to her desk

      and Olivia

      goes back to searching.

      By the time lunch break ends

      we haven’t found anything

      except where Alan works

      as a dentist

      —which is no secret—

      but Olivia jots notes

      on a scrap of paper

      stuffs it in her jeans pocket

      vows to search until she uncovers

      something juicy.

      Chapter 29

      Mom flicks through dresses

      on the rack

      not really looking

      just passing the time

      while we wait.

      The shopkeeper emerges

      from the back

      our dresses slung

      over her arm.

      The woman shoos us

      into change rooms.

      I try on the lavender dress

      freshly hemmed

      decide to ask Mom

      for new sandals

      to go with it.

      Mom peeks in

      says

      Beautiful

      then beckons me.

      Come and see.

      I slide the curtain aside

      step out

      where Mom poses

      in her wedding dress.

      Vintage, she calls it

      not quite white

      antique lace

      knee length.

      No veil

      no trailing skirt

      but it’s exactly right

      for her.

      Back at home

      we climb out of the car

      collect our dresses

      shoes

      the pale lipstick

      Mom said I could wear

      for the wedding

      and it’s only then

      —walking up to the house

      I’ll be leaving—

      that the day’s shine

      falls away

      a cloud

      moving over the sun

      as I remember

      what it’s all leading up to.

      Iris stands on her front step

      swishes a broom

      one way

      then the other.

      She pauses

      waves

      chats with Mom

      for a minute.

      She wants to brighten up

      the front of her house

      Mom tells me

      so it appeals

      to buyers. She wants to know

      if it’s too late

      to plant nasturtiums.

      It’s fine

      I say.

      They grow fast.

      Tell her I can plant them for her

      if she’d like.

      Iris would like that

      very much

      so after I stow my wedding outfit

      in my room

      I go next door.

      Iris pulls an envelope of seeds

      from her apron pocket

      points out a large pot

      and I get to work

      loosen the soil

      press round seeds

      into dark earth

      shower them with water.

      Now we wait

      I say

      both hands palm up

      wiggling my fingers.

      Iris extends the leaf-green notebook.

      You’re a good neighbor, Macy.

      I’ll miss you.

      My eyes sting

      as if it’s a big deal

      Iris is moving one place

      and I’m moving another.

      But that’s crazy...

      except that

      it’s not.

      I ask for the pen

      write below her message.

      You’re coming to the wedding

      aren’t you?

      I wouldn’t miss it

      for anything.

      As I cross the lawn

      to my house

      I glance back at the pot

      flower seeds waiting


      to sprout

      and I know

      I’ll be long gone

      before they do.

      Chapter 30

      Construction paper

      scissors

      marker.

      Iris Gillan

      neighbor

      rainbow goddess

      storyteller

      friend.

      I add the leaf

      to my project.

      Chapter 31

      A message from Olivia

      pops up

      on the computer.

      Jackpot!

      My heart speeds up

      thuds madly

      beneath my ribs.

      She found something?

      Something big?

      I glance over my shoulder.

      Mom’s curled up

      on the corner of the couch

      lost in a book

      but then

      argh!

      she looks up at me

      smiles

      says

      It must be time

      for bed.

      I message Olivia back.

      Can’t chat now.

      But I have to know

      so I add

      Mission accomplished?

      Her reply appears

      a moment later.

      Definitely.

      Wow.

      I knew it.

      This is awesome.

      I log off

      say goodnight to Mom

      go upstairs

      but there’s no way

      I’ll be able to sleep.

      It’s ages before I drift off

      then I sleep late

      wonder why the vibrations from my alarm

      didn’t wake me

      until I realize

      I forgot to set it.

      I miss walking to school with Olivia

      dash into class late

      and earn a recess detention

      from Mr. Tanaka.

      Finally at lunch

      Olivia and I get a chance to talk

      in private.

      She’s near breathless

      with the news.

      You won’t believe it

      she says.

      I found a newspaper article.

      It’s crazy.

      Tell me!

      The twins

      —he kidnapped them!

      Kidnapped?

      Four years ago.

      He took them

      to M-e-x-i-c-o.

      No.

      I can’t think

      can’t believe.

      This makes

      no

      sense.

      You mean

      they’re not his kids?

      Olivia’s eyes are saucers

      as she tells me the details.

      They are.

      He was married before, right?

      He took the girls

      and his wife reported it

      sent the police after him

      hauled them back

      over the border.

      No wonder she divorced him!

      The twins would’ve been

      two years old

      and he…

      whoa.

      This is big.

      This is enormous.

      This

      is miles better

      than I’d hoped

      —and miles

      worse.

      Chapter 32

      After school

      we rush to my room

      close the door.

      Olivia pulls a folded paper

      from her back pocket

      opens it to reveal

      a news article

      she printed from the Internet.

      Her hands

      smooth the creases

      slide the page

      toward me

      finger tapping at the headline.

      Local Dentist Questioned in Kidnapping Case

      I scan the article

      see his name

      twin girls

      taken

      Mexico

      but it feels like I’m reading

      about strangers.

      Is this a real newspaper

      or a gossip one?

      I ask Olivia.

      It’s real.

      I’m pretty sure.

      It’ll do the trick

      and you won’t have to move

      to the new house.

      It’ll stay just you

      and your mom.

      I should be excited

      and part of me is

      but there’s a seed

      of sadness

      buried deep inside

      that I’m trying to pretend

      isn’t there.

      It’s what you wanted

      right?

      says Olivia.

      I refold the page

      tuck it behind the books

      on my shelf.

      Olivia and I head to the dining room

      where it appears as if a craft store

      exploded.

      I guess I should’ve cleaned up

      after my last failed attempt

      at crafting.

      We twist

      shape

      tie

      until the last of the centerpieces

      is complete.

      All that work

      —that not-my-specialty work—

      finally finished

      thanks to Olivia.

      I’d be sunk

      if she weren’t part

      of my story.

      That night before bed

      I cut another leaf

      pale green construction paper

      write her name

      her birthday

      and the date we met

      —first day

      of second grade—

      add details of our story

      words like veins

      in the leaf

      best friend

      expert crafter.

      I need more

      another story line

      but for now

      this is perfect.

      Chapter 33

      We’re barely in the door

      twins swarm me

      shepherding me

      toward the stairs

      both of them trying

      to sign something

      without a pause

      in their perpetual motion.

      Room. They’re signing room

      —even Kaitlin, now that her finger

      is fixed. They pull me

      into Alan’s barren box of an office.

      It’s utterly empty

      utterly drab.

      Alan the kidnapper appears

      at my shoulder.

      It’s ready any time

      you want to move stuff in

      he says.

      You mean never?

      His face falls.

      Mom rebukes

      but she doesn’t know the truth.

      Why is it so hard

      to tell her?

      To blurt it out?

      Maybe if the twins

      weren’t right here.

      As pesky as they are

      they’re not to blame

      for their dad

      being a kidnapper.

      Mom’s not to blame either

      but she needs to know.

      I focus on the beige wall.

      Can I paint it?

      Judging by the rest

      of his bland house


      he’ll say no

      to color

      which might as well be no

      to joy

      —one more reason

      he’s not stepdad material.

      But the kidnapper says

      What color?

      Purple

      —not lavender

      or lilac

      but bright

      bold

      lupine purple.

      I’m sure that crosses the line

      is more than Bland Kidnapper Man

      can take.

      “Purple?” he says.

      He turns to the twins

      signs as he speaks to them.

      She wants a purple room!

      Bethany and Kaitlin

      eyes round

      mouths dropping open

      suddenly bounce across the hallway

      like jumping beans.

      Kaitlin flings open their door

      and I peer in

      —bunk beds with polka-dot quilts

      fuschia rug

      bold purple walls.

      I can’t help it

      —a smile

      sneaks onto my face.

      Mom taps my shoulder.

      Alan has something to show you

      outside.

      I follow her

      the twins follow me

      a ragtag parade

      through the house

      out

      to the backyard.

      I jerk to a stop

      wide-eyed.

      Almost half

      of the not-very-big-to-begin-with lawn

      is torn up

      gone

      leaving a plot

      of freshly turned earth

      rich

      and dark.

     


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