The Summer We Saved the Bees (21 page)

Mrs. Brooks made lunch—cheese sandwiches and slices of cantaloupe and a pitcher of iced tea—and carried it all out to a picnic table in the backyard. The twins were already out there, sort of helping but mostly getting in the way.
“Tell Violet and Ty that lunch is ready, would you, Wolf?” she said.

I went back into the house. Violet and Ty had been on the couch, watching tv, the last time I saw them, but they weren’t there anymore. “Vi?” I called out.

No answer.

I ran upstairs to the office, where she’d slept the night before, to see if her stuff was still there, but I already knew.

She was gone.

I kneeled down on the floor, staring at the deflated air mattress and the neatly folded blankets. Everything was blurry. I brushed away my tears angrily and clenched my hands into tight fists, pounding them against my thighs.

There was a great big hollow space inside my chest. A great big empty
aching
space.

I couldn’t believe she hadn’t even said goodbye.

I told Mrs. Brooks that Violet and Ty had gone for a walk. I didn’t know if she believed me, but she didn’t say anything—just raised her eyebrows and handed me a plate of food.

“Thanks,” I said. I couldn’t meet her eyes. I felt bad about lying to her, but if I told her they’d gone, she’d get upset. I figured it was better just to leave that one until Mom and Curtis got here. Even if I told Mrs. Brooks now, it wasn’t like she’d be able to do anything about it.

“Grandma,” Saffron said, “Whisper doesn’t eat these things.”

Mrs. Brooks raised her eyebrows. “What things, Saffron?”

“
These
things.” Saffron gestured at their plates. “She only eats orange cheese. This is yellow cheese.”

I looked at Whisper. She was licking a slice of melon, over and over. Just licking it like it was a Popsicle. “It’s fine,” I said. “Whisper’s trying.”

“You let me know if you want something else, Whisper,” Mrs. Brooks said.

Apparently she didn’t believe us about Whisper not talking. I took a bite of my sandwich and thought about Violet.

I wasn’t worried about her.

I was too angry to worry.

In a few hours, Curtis and Mom would arrive—and it would be up to me to make them understand.

Thirty-Two

TIME WAS WEIRD
that afternoon, both too fast and too slow. I played with the twins—drawing pictures for them to color, making up George the Van stories and suffering through at least a dozen games of Crazy Eights, which was torturous as neither of them could stand to lose. I was getting more and more anxious.

Mrs. Brooks fussed about the house, trying to decide where Curtis and Mom could sleep and wondering aloud where on earth Violet and Ty had got to. Finally, she said she was off to the bus station to pick up our parents. “I do wish your sister hadn’t wandered off. Very inconsiderate of her.” She draped a silky scarf around her neck. “Please keep an eye on your sisters until I get back with your mother and Curtis.”

I put down my cards. “Yes. I will. We’ll be fine.” It was what was going to happen after they all got back that I was worried about.

“It’s your
go
!” Saffron said, nudging me hard with her elbow.

“Right. Right.” I watched Mrs. Brooks leave and had a sudden urge to take off myself. Just get up and walk out that door and start to run. But it didn’t make sense to run away when we’d already
run
away…I swallowed, took a deep breath and played a card. “Saffy, pick up two.”

She scowled. “You always make
me
pick up.”

“Because you go after me, dummy. I can’t make Whisper pick up.”

“Don’t call me dummy.” She picked up two cards.

“Sorry,” I said.

Saffron slapped down a Jack. “Miss a turn, Whisper!”

Whisper’s bottom lip trembled.

“Look, how about we play something else?” I suggested. “Or watch some tv? Or—”

“No,” Saffron said. “Crazy Eights.”

I looked at Whisper. She held up her cards and nodded, which I took to mean she wanted to keep playing. “Fine,” I said. “Then no getting upset, okay?”

Two identical shrugs.

“Okay?” I said again. “Because one more meltdown and I quit. For real this time.”

Two matching nods.

I thought of Duncan and his mom, and their cozy little apartment. But even if Mom agreed, which seemed unlikely, how could I leave the twins? Who would look after them while Mom did her presentations? Because no matter how much Mom and Curtis loved them—and I knew they loved
them tons—they weren’t always good at figuring out that sort of thing.

Like Mom always said, they were big-picture people. Sometimes they forgot about taking care of the details.

Forty minutes later, I heard the scrunch of tires in the gravel driveway. “They’re here,” I said, getting to my feet.

Whisper clapped her hands together, and Saffron ran to the door and threw it open.

“Saffy!” Mom’s voice, high and anxious. “My sweet little kitten, come here.” And then she was inside, sweeping Saffron into her arms and lifting her off the ground.

Whisper clutched my hand and pushed her face against my leg.

I bent down to her. “Are you feeling shy? It’s okay. Go on.”

Mom looked over at us. “Whisper, love. My little bug. Come here, honey.”

And Whisper let go of my leg and dashed across the living room to Mom. I stood there awkwardly. I could hear Curtis just outside the door, talking to Mrs. Brooks, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. I wasn’t looking forward to telling him that Violet had left.

Mom was crying, kneeling on the floor with her arms around the twins, stroking their hair. “I was so worried.”

“They’re fine, Mom,” I said. She was going to get them all upset if she kept that up. “They’ve had a nice visit with
their grandmother, and they’re just fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

She glared at me, but I guess she took the hint, because she got to her feet. She cleared her throat, and when she spoke, her voice had dropped an octave. “Of course they are,” she said. “I just missed my little bugs.”

Those crazy, mixed-up feelings were boiling up inside me again, and I had to dig my nails into my palms to distract myself.

Curtis and Mrs. Brooks walked into the room. Curtis put one arm around Mom’s waist and tousled Whisper’s hair with his other hand. He nodded at me. “Wolf.”

“Hi,” I said.
Now what
, I thought. My heart was beating so fast and hard I could actually feel it in my head, a thumping pressure inside my ears. Whatever was going to happen next, I just wanted to get it over with.

“Well,” Mrs. Brooks said. “Perhaps Saffron and Whisper should play upstairs in their room while you three visit. And Violet…Wolf, is she still not here?”

I shook my head. “She won’t be,” I said.

Mom looked at me sharply. “What do you mean?”

I gestured to the twins with my chin. I didn’t want to talk in front of them.

“Come on, you two.” Mrs. Brooks held out a hand toward them. “Let’s get you a snack to take up with you. Or maybe you could help me make some cookies. What do you think?”

At least she seemed to be getting fond of the twins. She was actually smiling at them—not a fake smile but a warm one, like she really meant it. “I thought chocolate chip,”
she said, “but you can help me take a look in my recipe book…”

“Wolf. What do you mean,
she won’t be
?” Mom said again. Her voice was sharp-edged and loud, and Saffron and Whisper squirmed out of her grasp and followed Mrs. Brooks into the kitchen. The door closed behind them.

And it was just Mom and Curtis and me standing there in the living room.

Showtime,
I thought. But I didn’t have a show prepared. I didn’t have a bunch of balls to juggle to represent Vi and me and the twins, to show what a mess Mom’s ideas and this crazy trip were making of our lives. I wasn’t a performer.

“Sit down,” Curtis said, pointing at the couch.

I sat.

He didn’t. He stood there, towering over me. “Where. Is. Violet?”

“She and Ty left this afternoon,” I said. “With a friend of Ty’s. They’re going to Calgary.”

“Calgary!”

“She’ll be okay,” I said. “She’ll probably call you when she gets there.”

Mom dropped onto the couch beside me and held her head in her hands. “What a mess.”

“And you just let her go?” Curtis was shouting now. “You just let her leave?”

I stared at him. “It’s not like I could stop her.” I raised my voice. “It’s not like she even said goodbye! What was I supposed to do?”

“Don’t shout at Wolf,” Mom said. “It’s not his fault.”

Curtis shook his head and swore softly under his breath. “That girl. That girl. She’s impossible.”

“She’ll be okay,” I said again. There weren’t many things I felt certain about, but that was one of them. Violet did what she needed to do. She was a fighter.

“Wolf, what on earth were you all thinking? Why did you all run away like this? Did something happen?” Mom’s forehead was creased, one hand twisting in her long hair.

“Nothing happened,” I said. “We just couldn’t keep doing it.”

“Doing what?” She put her hand on my knee and squeezed. “Tell me.”

I swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “Pretending,” I said.

“Pretending? What do you mean?”

“Acting like everything’s okay. Like all we care about is saving the bees.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m trying to explain!” It came out as a shout. “You just don’t ever listen. I’ve been trying to tell you forever.”

“I’m listening now,” she said. “So tell me. What is going on?”

“Well…” I lowered my voice. “For one thing, in case you haven’t noticed, Whisper isn’t talking. Like, at all.” I suddenly remembered that she’d spoken yesterday—twice—but decided not to confuse matters by bringing that up now. “And she’s always having these meltdowns and stuff.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Mom said. “You think I don’t worry about her?”

“I’ve tried to talk to you about it,” I said. “You just brush it off and say she’s fine. But she isn’t fine. She’s not even close to fine. She worries about stuff all the time, until her stomach hurts. And she wets her bed, and now she doesn’t even talk.”

“Wolf. I’m her
mother.
I’m well aware of her struggles.”

“So why do you just brush it off when I try to talk to you? Why do you pretend nothing’s wrong?”

She took her hand off my knee and leaned away from me. “Maybe I just don’t think it’s something you need to be worrying about.”

“Right,” I said. “Because I should just be worrying about the bees dying and the world ending. Because that’s THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS!” I was shouting again, but I didn’t care. “You don’t care that Violet’s messed up her tenth-grade year, or that she’s in love with Ty, or that I’d rather be back at school with Duncan, or that Whisper’s scared all the time. All you care about are the STUPID BEES!”

Mom blinked like I had slapped her, and her cheeks flushed a blotchy red. “That’s not true, Wolf. That’s not true at all.”

“It might as well be,” I said. “Because that’s how you act. Ignoring what we want, dragging us off on this trip, acting like it isn’t making everything worse.”