Perfect Glass (A Young Adult Novel (sequel to Glass Girl)) (21 page)

“She’s got a closet full of formals. We’re just goofing off.”

The noise stopped and all I heard was Henry breathing. “See, that’s where I’m confused. Because I got a call from Thanet earlier this morning about some crazy plan he’s hatched to get a date to the winter formal.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Something about the new kid and my girlfriend.”

I sighed and smacked my forehead with my hand. “I haven’t said I’m going yet. Quinn asked me—
as a friend
—so Abby would go with Thanet. It means a lot to Thanet and that’s the only reason I was thinking about it.” I waited to see if he’d say anything, but he was quiet. “I wanted to talk to you about it, but you told me not to call.”

“Tell me this, Meg. If I hadn’t told you not to call, what did you expect me to say?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

“When were you going to tell me how much you’ve been hanging around with this guy?” he said.

“I haven’t been…what do you mean?” I wanted to be sure I understood what Henry was implying before I answered. Tennyson came out of her closet and leaned against the door to close it. She tiptoed over to sit on her bed next to me. She nodded earnestly at everything I said and strained to hear Henry’s responses.

Henry whispered something to someone in the background, then closed a door. “Thanet said you guys are together all the time, but everything is cool because Quinn only wants to be friends.”

“We’re not together all the time,” I argued. “Some. We’ve been together some. And we’ve talked about it. He knows there’s nothing there. He does only want to be friends.”

“And what do you want?”

I almost choked. “How could you even ask me that, Henry?”

He sighed. “Because I’m thousands of miles away. Because I Skyped into your living room late one night and there’s a dude sitting next to you in the dark. Because Thanet tells me things. And Tennyson sent me a picture of you in a dress that looks like lingerie.”

“It’s not that bad,” I said.

“I didn’t say it was bad, Meg. It’s about a million miles from bad.” His voice was breaking with exasperation. “Things are crazy here and I’m questioning everything.”

“Don’t question me.” I could feel my pulse racing and I knew we were saying words I never thought we’d say to each other. “I love you. I guess I just feel a little sorry for myself because I’m missing out on senior things. I’ve never been to a dance, Henry. I’m not interested in Quinn and he’s not interested in me.”

Henry snorted. “You’re so full of it, Meg. He’s interested.”

“Tell me about last night.” My segue needed work and Henry scoffed at my attempt to change the subject.

“I don’t think I can talk about it yet,” he said. “It’s too soon. It was a nightmare.”

“You can’t even talk to me about it?”

He didn’t respond.

“What’s next for Quiet Waters?”

He swallowed loudly enough for me to hear it. “Next is…at any moment day or night, those vans could roll in and take the rest of the kids. And there is nothing I can do about it.”

“But they left you with addresses for the kids, right?”

“Are you kidding?” he said. “They left us with nothing. They’re afraid if we know where the kids are we’ll come in with our own vans and take them back. Which is sort of a valid concern.”

“You’ll never see them again?” I said, truly understanding for the first time what last night meant. “You’ll never know if they’re okay?”

“Meg, this is what I’m dealing with. I’m the guy who has to sit back and let it happen. The alternative is I come out with guns blazing and I’m thrown into a Nicaraguan prison. I’d never see you again.”

I waited and thought about the images I’d seen of Central American prisons. “Don’t do anything illegal,” I said. “I saw Kate in town yesterday. She said John’s going back without her.”

“He’ll be here any minute. He’s too late to do anything, though.”

“She said they’re trying to adopt Aidia.”

“That’s a long shot,” he said.

“Henry, you don’t even sound like yourself,” I said. “You’re never cynical like this.”

“Which is why I wanted to wait a while before we talked.” His frustration made his voice sound tight.

We were both quiet for a minute. I could feel Tennyson’s gaze on the back of my head. I needed privacy. I needed Henry to be Henry so things would be okay. I rose from the bed and closed myself in Tennyson’s closet, in the back, under the skirts of the formals, in the dark. Where everything smelled faintly of leather and feet and citrus body spray.

“Henry,” I whispered. “Henry.”

I think he was crying, panting a little to regain control. I pictured him pinching his eyes closed tightly to stop his tears. The image undid me. I couldn’t believe I’d had this ridiculously shallow day worrying about formal wear when he’d been blaming himself for all that had gone wrong.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I just want to make things right for the kids.”

“You need to talk about this,” I said. “You need to let yourself feel. It’s okay. It’s just me now.”

“I hated it, Meg. I hated seeing them in the vans. They turned around to watch us disappear and their faces were hopeful. How could they be hopeful?”

“Because you probably told them it was okay. Because they’re young enough to think governments won’t hurt them. And despite everything, what they truly want is a real home.” I ran my fingers through the fake fur on one of Tennyson’s coats, seeking comfort.

“But I’m jaded enough to know they’re going to families who won’t love them,” Henry said. “They’ll see them as a way to get a check from the government. They’ll put them to work or worse…they’ll abuse them.”

“But what if you’re wrong and the kids are right? What if they’re loved and cherished in these homes?”

Henry sniffed and cleared his throat. “Do you remember that Dylan Thomas poem Mr. Landmann made us read last year—‘Being But Men’?”

“Sort of.”

“It was about how men walk into a forest afraid because they know all the things that can happen. They might wake the noisy birds and cause chaos. But kids come into the trees and see the magic. They climb them and see stars that the men were too afraid to see.”

“Are you afraid?” I was glad he couldn’t see my face. I was afraid for him.

“I know all the bad things that could happen,” he said. “Bad things, Meg. What if some pervert gets to our girls or beats up the boys?”

We were both quiet, just breathing together.

“Our kids are still wondering about the magic,” he said. “They could have a mom and a dad and their own room. Maybe they’ll have all new toys. They might see stars. I’m the one worried about all the possibilities, like waking up the scary birds.”

“You don’t know all the possibilities. You’re just imagining the worst ones. Try imagining the good ones.”

“‘Out of the chaos would come bliss,’” he quoted, then laughed.

“Don’t laugh. It really could work out that way. These kids…Henry…they’ll never forget you. Can you imagine that?”

I struggled with putting into words the significance of Henry’s presence there. The very thought of it made me want to cry. It was so vastly important—so much more important than where to go to college or what to do with your life or what to have for dinner. It was bigger than all of us. “They’ll forget all the details of what happened during this confused time, but they’ll never forget the way you made them feel—safe and loved.”

Henry drew a shaky breath. “Do me a favor, Meg.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t fall for Quinn O’Neill.” Quinn’s name sounded like a contagion when Henry said it. “If you’re going to do this thing with him…go to this dance, don’t fall for him.”

“Never,” I said. “I promise.”

“Because I’m all filled up on sad right now.” He sniffed again and I could tell he was more in control. “And you can’t ask me to sit by and watch you get all caught up in this guy. I can’t handle that—thinking he swept you off your feet because he bathed in body spray and dressed up.” His voice sounded rough. “I know you think I’m being funny right now, but I’m completely serious. Don’t make me watch that happen.”

“You know my heart,” I said. “It’s yours.”

“You told me once you thought dances were ridiculous and that’s why we didn’t go to any last year,” he said. “But if you’ve changed your mind…if this is important to you, I’ll suck it up.”

“I’m afraid I’ll regret it if I don’t go to one high school dance. And that has nothing to do with Quinn.” I tried those words out slowly, to make sure I really meant them. “I really want Thanet to go and I think Abby made me one of her conditions.”

“Understood.” The line went quiet until he rushed into another thought that sounded like a list he’d made. “Remember that guys think about food and sex, and that’s about it. You may think he’s admiring your pretty dress when he’s actually admiring the way you fill it out and how soft your skin looks.”

“Now you’re just being weird.”

“Nope,” he said, with a dark chuckle. “Just honest, babe. But it’s sweet how you think the best of everyone.”

***

After we hung up and I’d accepted the dress from Tennyson and even later, as I drove to Jo’s to help her fix dinner and bathe, my thoughts were on Henry and his longing to make things right for the kids. The six words—make things right for the kids—tripped off the tongue like an item on a to-do list.

But the impossibility of the six words made Henry’s longing more heroic than anything I’d ever known. And I prayed, hard, in the Jeep that every nuance of those six words would be met and checked and crossed through. That things would be made right for the kids, whatever that meant, and Henry could be at peace with himself. It’s all any of us could hope for.

In my mind, I saw a string stretching from Henry’s heart at Quiet Waters to my heart. It was taut and it vibrated with Henry’s worries and fears and I felt them all.

Deeply. I felt them all.

henry

F
rom where I sat, in the tree house with Aidia, I could just make out the top of John’s head. He paced, stopped to kick at the dirt, and ground out his lecture in Spanglish over the phone. The person on the other end of the line kept hanging up on him and John would groan and hit redial.

“I told you, the only thing I’m asking for right now is a list of addresses because I have money for my children,” he yelled. “
Sí, tengo dinero para los niños
.”

“Come on, baby,” I said, hauling Aidia up to my hip so I could climb out of the tree house with her. “Let’s go remind John little ears are listening.”

When I’d picked him up at the airport a few nights ago, he was bleary-eyed and blustery as a bull who’d been wronged. He’d wanted to set up meetings with every person who’d had a hand in that night raid on his home, his children.

But no official would touch this with a ten-foot pole. Each day, two or three kids were moved to new homes. Packing children, watching them climb into the vans, and trying to keep a reassuring smile on our faces had nearly killed us.

Maybe the hardest part was turning back to the kids who were still with us, trying to hide our tears. Honesty became a dirty word. We kept pretending the floors under our feet weren’t crumbling and the roof wasn’t collapsing, because the little faces watching us missed nothing.

This morning, Raf and I worked on getting all the construction trash out of the flex building. Old paperwork and forgotten supplies lined the walls in boxes that had begun to disintegrate. We salvaged what we could and tossed what we couldn’t. I hooked a chain to our large metal dumpster and used the truck to drag it next to the windows. For a couple of hours, we pitched boxes of moldy, unrecognizable things directly into the dumpster. The work became equal parts therapy and frustration.

“You ever heard the phrase ‘barking at a knot?’” I said during a short intermission.

Raf rolled it around on his tongue, trying to translate it into something that made sense in Spanish. “Never. Is it something American dogs do?”

I laughed. “Nah. It’s something American guys do, I guess. It’s what we say when we’re expending a lot of energy trying to do something that’s impossible, so you’re about as useful as a dog looking to untie a knot by barking at it.”

“So we’re barking at a knot here?” he said.

“Yep, woof.”

Raf didn’t laugh. In fact, he seemed to be struggling with a five-dollar problem.

“I think it’s good to get this place cleared out,” he said. “We can’t fix it until it’s cleaned up, right?”

“That’s right.”

“What’s going to happen to these buildings?”

“No one’s sure yet. Sam and John are working on trying to get approval to turn this into a school or another kind of home for kids, if the government will allow it.” I heaved out a sigh. “What if we could round up all the kids and bring them home one day?”

I must not have sounded convincing because Raf rolled his eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about something, Henry,” he said.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I wish there was a way to remove these tattoos.”

We’d long ago taken off our shirts to try to keep cool in the humidity. I knew he felt funny about his ink because after he’d shed his shirt, he made a point to work out of my line of sight all morning.

“I’m pretty sure they can remove tattoos with lasers.” I said this without thinking it through. How could Raf afford laser tattoo removal?

“In my gang, they believe the only way to remove tattoos is to pass a needle over the design again, but, instead of ink, you use the milk of a new mother.” He watched me closely for a reaction.

“Why milk?” I scratched my head. “Why a new mother?”

A trace of embarrassment colored his features. “Okay, so not just any new mother, right? A girl who’d only been with her husband because her milk would be pure enough to cover up the bad ink.”

“Oh,” I said.

“The sweetest thing in life erasing the dirtiest thing in life,” he said.

I fake punched him in the arm. “They talk about things like that in their gang socials or whatever they call their get-togethers?”

“Nah, man,” he said. “My mom told me that when I came home with the clown on my chest. She cried and said I’d never be rid of it and even my gang brothers believed it would take something like the Virgin Mary’s milk to clean me now.”