Another Kind of Hurricane (14 page)

“Hello?” called Jake.

“Coming!” yelled someone from the back room at the Salvation Army.

Henry inhaled the cold air. It was different from the air outside, easier to take into his lungs.

A woman appeared, carrying a cake. “Hello,” she said. “Sorry. I was in the kitchen, just finishing up this new idea I had. This.” She held up the cake. “It might taste awful. It might taste just horrible. But I need someone to try it. Want to try it?”

“You make it sound so appealing how can we resist?” said Jake.

The woman closed her eyes and put her hand on her forehead. “I did it again,” she said.

“Did what?” asked Henry.

“Dragged out the toilet paper—”

“Huh?” The woman was funny. Henry liked her. He liked
the magnet man he had met too. He inhaled again and got a whiff of—cinnamon?

“Stuck my foot in it,” she said. “Or shoved my foot in my mouth. Either way. A foot issue. The usual.” She grinned. “I'm Cora. How can I help you?”

“I'm Jake, and this is my friend, Henry. Is this five sixty-four Camp Street?”

“Indeed it is,” said Cora.

“Then we have a delivery from Vermont.”

“Vermont! You all are wonderful. This is the second delivery we've had from your lovely state this week.”

Henry's ears perked up. Maybe the marble was here. Wouldn't that be lucky? Wouldn't that make him believe in its luck again? Maybe?

“Should I start bringing in the bags?” said Jake.

“Oh, yes,” said Cora. “Thank you. I can help—”

Henry wanted to know where the bags were from the first delivery. “Do you need help unpacking the new stuff in here?” he asked, trying to sound like he didn't care.

“I could use your help outside,” said Jake.

“The smell—” said Henry quickly.

“It's overwhelming,” agreed Cora. “The whole city stuck its foot in it, didn't it?”

Jeezum Crow!
This woman was so cool!

“It smells like cinnamon in here,” he said.

Cora beamed. “You can tell? It's in the cake! Oh, I'm so glad you can tell! That's a good sign, right? Maybe the cake tastes good? I know! How about we try a little of it after we work?”

Henry nodded.

“I have a job for you right in here,” she said. “I won't ever turn down help. That would be foolish, wouldn't it? I try not to do foolish things if I can help it. Except for the toilet paper thing.” She laughed as she walked toward the door. “Some of the bags are there, behind the counter,” said Cora pointing. “And some are on the floor in front of those shelves. Can you take out the clothes and organize them by size?”

As soon as Cora and Jake were outside, Henry ran behind the counter. Three garbage bags were pushed under it, just beneath the cash register. He untied one and pulled out a pair of shorts. Pink. Flowered. Sparkles.
Shoot
. Definitely not from his house.

Now that he was out of Vermont, where life as he knew it had come crashing to an end, now that he was in New Orleans, where he had never been before but where he couldn't totally explain why but he felt like he fit, now that up was down and left was right, he could imagine that anything was possible.

Henry tore open the second bag. T-shirts. He pulled one
out.
THE RICHMOND MOUNTAINEERS
. Richmond was two towns over. His team played them in football. Got beaten by them most of the time. This bag was not from his house either.

He wasn't sure what he'd do if he found the marble. There was no one to trade it with. Could he wish on it? Wish that Wayne would appear next to him? That time would wind back up like a pitcher getting ready to throw a curveball? That the hole in his skin, the crack in his bone, the tear in his heart, that all his pain would get taped and wrapped and sewn so that it would heal and go away?

He dumped the third bag onto the floor.

Baby clothes!

He kicked into the center of the pile and a pair of tiny overalls flew through the air and landed on the cash register.

Shoot, shoot, shoot!

Henry ran out from behind the counter and over to the shelves Cora had pointed out. Hope filled his fingertips as he pulled a pair of blue jeans out of a bag from between two pairs of corduroys. They were small, but still, he hoped. He reached into the front pocket, wishing, wishing wishing—

There was something there!

He pulled it out with his hand—

Wishing, wishing, wishing—

A car.

A tiny wooden car.

“Finding places to put the clothes?” Cora's voice was muffled behind two huge bags balanced in her arms.

“Huh—?” said Henry. “Uh—oh…well…no—” He pushed the car into his pocket.

Cora dropped her bags behind the counter. She surveyed the strewn clothes. “Did you find whatever you were looking for?” She lifted the overalls off the cash register. “Clearly
these
are not your heart's desire—”

“No,” said Henry quietly.

Jake came in, arms loaded with boxes.

“A heart's desire is a slippery thing,” said Cora. “One minute it's right next door to you, and the next minute it's gone.”

“True words,” said Jake.

Henry swallowed hard. One minute in your pocket and the next minute on a truck bound south. One minute running down the mountain and the next minute flat on the ground. One minute alive and the next minute dead.

Cora opened the cash register and pulled out a knife.

Jeezum Crow!
One minute alive and the next minute dead, all right!

“Would you both be willing to try a piece of my cake?” said Cora. “Please?” She cut into it and that cinnamon smell wafted into Henry's nose. She handed him a slice. “Be honest. I
need it to be perfect. Because”—she leaned in toward Henry—“here's my secret. This cake is for my heart's desire.”

And as Henry took a bite of the cake, which tasted fresh and delicious and different, and as he spun the tiny wheels on the small wooden car hidden in his pocket, he wondered if he would even recognize his own heart's desire if he ran into it on one of those crazy streets.

Zavion checked the sky. It was a small consolation that there was no rain coming down.

He walked to the corner.

Tulane Avenue and North Broad Street.

He was in Mid-City. Papa had painted a mural at Krescent City Kids day care, which was just around the corner on South Dorgenois Street.

Zavion was hungry. He unzipped his backpack and pulled out his loaf of bread. He ripped off a piece. It tasted like honey.

As he ate, he oriented himself. Gentilly was northeast. Home. Treme was closer. Northeast too. The convention center was southeast. Tulane Avenue would take him close to it.

It was strange. He knew every street and neighborhood like the back of his hand. He knew where he was. But at the same time, everything was different. Upside down. Like that purple car.

Zavion's stomach felt weighed down with the bread he had made. He liked that feeling. Grounded. He needed it because a part of him felt like he was still hurtling through space.

He swallowed his fear with his last bite of bread and took a step into the intersection. He crossed North Broad Street and began to walk down Tulane Avenue. He put his hand in his pocket and closed his fingers around the marble. He imagined its roundness. He suddenly had a thought. The marble had no upside or downside. It was facing the right direction no matter which way it landed. Its feet were on the ground all the time.

Zavion liked this thought. He held on to it and on to the marble as his feet continued down the street.

Fueled by peanut-butter-chocolate-cinnamon cake, Henry was now on a full-fledged mission. He was going to find that marble. It wasn't in this Salvation Army, he was sure of it. But there must be more than one Salvation Army in New Orleans.

Jake and Cora were outside getting more boxes. Henry could slip out now. He opened the door and turned to walk down the block.

“And just where do you think you're going?” said Jake. He dropped a stack of boxes on the ground.

“Nowhere.” All of a sudden, the center of Henry's stomach, where the cake sat, began to get warm. Like he was baking it all over again.

“Hey, I'm teasing,” said Jake.

“Oh, uh—” Henry took a few steps backward.

“We could use your help here.” Jake reached out and punched Henry lightly in the arm. “Strong kid like you.”

“I don't know….” Henry's belly was getting warmer.

Cora came up from behind Jake. “I promise another treat after you grab a few boxes,” she said. “I've got plenty of cake experiments in the kitchen.”

“A bunch of garbage bags are sitting right at the edge of the trailer. Go on and get those, Henry,” said Jake. “Okay?”

“No.” Henry's belly was hot now.
Oh man!
Why wouldn't Jake just let him go?

“No?”

“No!” Like a match striking the side of a box, the
no
ignited him.

“Henry.” Jake reached out to touch Henry's arm. “I can't let you wander around without me.”

“Let go of me!”

“What's going on?” Jake tightened his grip. His eyes looked into Henry's. They darted back and forth, searching for something.

Henry couldn't look at him. Henry turned from Jake to Cora. Cora's eyes were wide and deep. Henry thought he saw understanding swimming in them, but he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that the fire inside him flickered.

“Henry?” Jake said gently.

Henry wanted to try to explain the fire to Jake. He really wanted to—

“What is it, Henry?” Jake asked.

No!
He couldn't tell him. Before he knew it, he'd yanked his arm away from Jake and pushed him, with both hands, in the chest.

The spot in his belly blazed.

“What are you doing, Henry?” said Jake.

“What am I doing?” he yelled.

“Yeah, what was that you just did?”

“What am I doing?” Henry yelled again. “What am I doing here?” He flashed on Mount Mansfield. Its hulking body ripping itself from the earth and somersaulting, upside down, right-side up, chasing him. He shook his head like a dog. He didn't know how he would ever get the mountain to release him. “What am I doing here?” he said again. “I'm…I'm
not
being there!”

And then he ran, ran as fast as he could, ran to get away from Jake, ran like Jake and Cora were the ones burning him, ran to push the aching feeling from his heart into his legs. But no matter how much he ran, or how much he stayed, he couldn't seem to get rid of it.