Can't Get There from Here (14 page)

“Where’s he going?” Tears asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But let’s wait outside.”

We went out into the cold. People were wearing heavy coats and gloves and hats and scarves wrapped tightly around their necks. Tears and I hugged ourselves and waited. Anthony came out the main doors carrying a box of doughnuts. “We had a little party at lunch today and these were left over.”

“Thanks,” I said.

A gust of wind made our clothes flap. Tears and I turned our backs to it.

“You really can stay, you know,” Anthony said. “I promise Bobby will leave you alone.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Maybe another time.”

Anthony smiled sadly. “Okay, just don’t be strangers. Either of you.”

Tears and me headed down the sidewalk, eating the doughnuts.

“You think he’s nice to you because he has the same skin thing?” Tears asked.

“No,” I said. “I think he’s just nice.”

Smoke was blowing from under the bridge
where the tarp was. Tears and me saw it from almost two blocks away. For a second I got scared, then I remembered that OG and Maggot went to find wood for a fire. When we got closer we saw blackened pieces of wood sticking out of the garbage can and orange flames shooting up. OG and Maggot were standing close to the fire, warming their hands and coughing.

“Look, fire! Warmth!” Maggot cried when he saw us. Pest barked. Tears and I joined them around the garbage can and held our hands out. The swirling wind pushed the smoke this way and that, and we kept moving to stay out of the way.

“Where’s the pig? We need a pig to roast!” Maggot cried. “We’ll kill the pig.” He pulled a burning stick out of the fire and held it like a spear. He started to chant, “Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!”

“What pig?” I asked.

Maggot threw the stick back into the garbage can. A flurry of orange sparks flew out.
“Lord of the Flies.”

“What’s that?” Tears asked.

Maggot turned to OG. “You’ve heard of it, right?”

OG frowned. “Was it a TV show or something?”

“You total freaks.” Maggot sounded disgusted. “It’s one of the most famous books ever written. About this bunch of kids who crash on an island and some of them turn into savages.”

“Like us,” I said.

“Kind of,” Maggot said.

“They killed each other. It was so primitive,” said Jewel. He was sitting against the wall with his knees pulled up tight to his chest, rocking back and forth. “But you know what they say: Boys will be boys.”

“You read it, Jewel?” Maggot asked.

“Oh, yes, darling. In school,” Jewel said. “Everybody had to read it. It was required. I went to Exeter, you know. All the best children went there.”

“All the best children,” OG repeated.

“Everyone had trust funds,” Jewel said. “And the places we’d go on vacation. The Vineyard. St. Barts. Capri. 2Moro and I were planning a getaway on Papa’s Gulfstream. But 2Moro’s dead. So sad. Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

For a long moment no one spoke. Then Maggot said, “Guess we didn’t think it would make a difference.”

“It makes a difference to me, my dear,” Jewel said with a sniff. “She was my twin sister. Don’t you think we should tell Mama and Papa? They’ll be devastated. Just devastated. But life goes on, and they still have me and Piper and Christoff. Did I tell you we’re having
Christmas in St. Moritz this year? Then off to Mykonos for New Year’s Eve.”

“That’s great, Jewel,” Maggot said. “Only New Year’s Eve was three weeks ago.”

Mary Ellen G-olding, aka Rainbow, born in North Miami Beach, Florida. Parents divorced when she was eight. Father remarried. Mother chronic alcoholic and drug addict. Age 11, removed from home after report that mother had exchanged her for drugs. Placed in foster care while mother in rehab. Age 12, returned to mother. Three months later mother relapsed, again exchanged Mary Ellen for drugs. Again placed in foster care. Age 14, diagnosed with OCO and depression. Medicated. Frequent behavioral problems in school. Chronic absences and truancy. Arrests for loitering, trespassing, and possession of narcotics. Age 15, served six months in juvenile corrections facility. Age 16, reported missing. Last known address, New York City. Dead at the age of 16. Cause of deaths Suicide.

You couldn’t escape the cold. We shivered all the time. The brown ice in the squeegee bucket was rock
hard. The river was jammed solid with snow-covered chunks. Someone said they were serving soup and sandwiches at the church. I went over there, but the line outside was too long and it was too cold to stand still.

I walked and walked, then stopped outside a store near Bleecker Street that sold television sets. They had one that almost filled a whole window. It was only a few inches thick and had one of those plasma screens with colors so bright they didn’t seem real. More like the jelly beans in the bowl on Anthony’s desk. Like the ice cream they sold to little kids in Baskin-Robbins. I loved the colors. It reminded me of when I was little and the world was filled with bright colors. Then I got older and the colors got dull.

In the window’s reflection I saw a police car pull up to the curb. Officer Ryan put on her hat and got out.

“I’ve been looking for you.” Her breath came out like a cloud. She was wearing a heavy blue cop coat. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Maybe,” I said.

“Hungry?”

“Maybe.”

She pointed to a diner a few doors down from the TV store. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

I didn’t move.

“Don’t you want to get out of the cold?” Officer Ryan asked.

“You said you’d tell me where Rainbow went,” I said.

“I’ll tell you inside,” Officer Ryan said.

A gust of wind made the street signs twist. The sky was dark gray and the air felt like it was going to snow. I didn’t know whether to believe her or not.

“Swear on your mother’s grave that you’ll tell the truth,” I said.

Officer Ryan gazed at me for a moment, like she was realizing that more than warmth and food, what I really needed was the truth. “I swear.”

“Why do you want to buy me something to eat?” I asked.

“Because you look hungry.”

“And that’s it? I get something to eat and then I can go? No tricks?”

“No tricks.”

The diner’s windows were fogged with frost. We went in and sat in a booth. Some of the people sitting near the windows still wore their coats and hats, so it probably wasn’t that warm, but to me it felt hot compared to the outside. A waitress wearing a fuzzy light blue sweater came over and gave us menus. She sniffed the air around me and wrinkled her nose. Then her eyes went soft and sad.

“Just coffee,” Officer Ryan said without opening the menu. To me she said, “Order whatever you want.”

On the cover of the menu was a picture of a stack of pancakes covered with syrup and strips of bacon on the side and glasses of orange juice and milk. “I’ll have that.” I pointed at the picture.

“Okay, hon.”

“Maybe you want to wash before you eat,” Officer Ryan said.

“Sure.” I took off the black ski jacket and went into the bathroom. In the mirror was a kid with tangled, matted hair. A flat, splotchy face smeared with dirt. Clothes that weren’t much more than rags. I ran the water. It wasn’t hot, but it stung my cold, stiff fingers. I had to wait a while until I could bend each finger. Then I squeezed the pink liquid soap into my palms and washed my face and hands. The rinse water turned a muddy light brown.

I dried my hands with the blow dryer, then turned it upside down and let the hot air blast my face. It felt good and I stayed there long after the skin was dry.

When I got back to the table, the plate of pancakes and bacon and the glasses of orange juice and milk were already there.

“I was worried that maybe you ran away,” Officer Ryan said as I slid into the booth.

“Why would I do that?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe you changed your mind.”

I smiled.

“What’s so funny?” Officer Ryan asked.

“You keep saying maybe. That’s what they call me. Maybe.”

“All right, Maybe.”

“How come you haven’t asked what my real name is?” I asked.

“Would you tell me if I did?”

“Maybe.”

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “Go ahead, have something to eat.”

I poured syrup over the pancakes and took a bite. It was sweet and delicious. I drank some orange juice and took another bite. Officer Ryan sipped her coffee.

I only ate about half the pancakes before I started to feel full.

“That’s it?” Officer Ryan asked.

I nodded.

“Guess there’s not much room down there,” she said.

I drank a little more milk, then wiped my lips on my sleeve. I felt full and warm and sleepy. Snow was starting to fall outside. Just a few tiny white flakes here and there.

“How’s the tribe?”

I shrugged. “They’re okay.”

“Who’s left?”

“OG. He’s the one with the dog. Jewel. I don’t know if you met him. Maggot.” I didn’t mention Tears because I was pretty sure she wouldn’t want me to.

Officer Ryan took a deep breath. “I have bad news. Rainbow’s dead.”

The little flakes of snow drifted slowly down out of the gray sky. I imagined I was a white snow butterfly flapping my pure white wings as the flakes fell around me.

“They put her in a detox center, but she stayed one night and left. Yesterday they pulled her body from the river. No visible signs of trauma, so they sent her down to the Medical Examiner. He’ll do an autopsy.”

I rubbed a clear spot in the frosty window and looked out at the falling snow. If only I’d held on to Rainbow that night in jail … If only I hadn’t let her go …

“They found her jacket on a pier nearby,” Officer Ryan said.

I was flying slowly upward the way a butterfly does. Flap, flap through the fine, light snowflakes. Up past the windows of the buildings. Past the roofs. Past the point on the Empire State Building. There was a bright spot in the clouds above. Like an opening. A place where a ray of sunlight snuck through the gray. That’s where Rainbow would be.

The black radio on Officer Ryan’s belt blurped. She held it to her ear. “Ryan. Yeah. Okay. In a second.” She turned off the radio. “I’m sorry, Maybe. I knew you’d want to know.”

Little white flakes of snow drifted down through the gray. Flap, flap. I struggled toward the bright opening in the sky where Rainbow was waiting. But it was high, high up and far, far away, and snow was collecting on my wings, making them heavy. It was getting harder and harder to fly.

“Maybe?”

I looked across the table at Officer Ryan. She had a small dark mole on the bridge of her nose right between
her eyes. “If you ever want me to help you go home, you tell me, okay? You find me in the car or go over to the station house on Avenue C and ask for me. I’ll help you.”

My home was with Rainbow up in the bright place in the clouds.

Officer Ryan picked up her hat. “I gotta go. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Maybe.”

Outside the snow began to come down harder. It started to weigh down my wings and get into my eyes. Sometimes the sky was so thick with snow I couldn’t see the bright spot in the clouds anymore. It stuck to my thin black antennas and legs. My white wings got too heavy to flap. I held them out straight the way the sea gulls did and began to glide back down in slow circles. I heard OG’s voice:
Can’t get there from here
. Beneath me the city had turned white. The roofs of the buses and buildings, the sidewalks and streets. I landed in the snow and disappeared.

“Hon?” The waitress in the light blue sweater was standing over me. “I need this table. It’s dinner time and people want to eat.”

I got up and pulled on the black ski jacket.

“Here’s something to take with you.” She gave me a white plastic bag. “Some bread and cheese.”

“Thanks.” I took the bag and went out into the snow. It was the light, fluffy kind that clung to your head and shoulders. The kind you could blow away with a strong
breath. It was pretty and felt good, until I got cold again and started to shiver. I walked down the sidewalk toward the bridge, and thought about Rainbow. She loved that leather jacket and wouldn’t go anywhere without it.

A big silver car came down the street in the other direction. It was covered by a thin blanket of white except for the dark green half circles where the windshield wipers swished back and forth. It slowed down, then made a U-turn. I kept walking. The car pulled next to me and I waited for the window to come down and a man inside to ask if I was hungry.

The window came down. A woman with straight blond hair looked out. “Excuse me.”

I kept walking.

“Excuse me,” she said again.

I didn’t look at her.

She said something to someone in the car. A man’s voice answered her. She turned back to me. “I’ll give you a dollar if you’ll look at a photograph of someone we’re looking for.”

I stopped. The car stopped. The woman held out a sheet of pictures and a dollar. The sheet was big and had half a dozen photos on it. She was barely able to get it through the window. It was still snowing, and the white flakes got on the woman’s arms and hair.

I took the dollar and stuffed it into my pocket. Then I looked at the photos. There was a boy with short hair wearing a white shirt and white shorts and holding a
tennis racket. In another photo he was wearing khaki shorts and a blue sweatshirt and standing on a wooden dock with a sailboat behind him. Then he was in a group shot with another boy and a girl with long blond hair and a smiling man and woman. I looked at the woman in the car. It was her. She looked up at me with hopeful, pleading eyes.

“Do you know him?” she asked. “Have you seen him?”

I nodded.

“You don’t have to come home,” said the
man in the sheepskin coat. “We just want to know that you’re all right.”

The man had silver hair and a deep tan. His coat had a white fur collar and more fur at the ends of the sleeves. The blond woman stood beside him wearing a dark blue coat with some sort of design on it. She was also tan. The silver car had green and white Colorado license plates.