Sunrise and Sunset.
This is Little Lima Bean,
Pretty Parsley,
and last but not least,
Sweet Sunflower.
I cover my mouth,
trying not to laugh
at all the hippie names.
Hunter turns to me.
Nah, just kidding, Liv.
You thought we all had
granola names, right?
Little Lima Bean points to Rainie.
Yeah, her—she’s the one
got a funny name—
Rain.
I’m Hunter after my
grandfather,
Hunter says,
and tells us the real names
of his brothers and sisters,
but although I can see
his mouth moving,
I can’t hear what he’s saying,
because I am thinking hard about
what Hunter’s mom said—
Trust your hands
and they’ll lead you
where you need to go.
Do my hands know something
I don’t?
How far will they lead me
and what will I find when I get there?
Music
Rainie is sitting
next to Hunter’s mom,
who is showing
Rainie her necklace.
This stone is amber.
Some people call it the
stone of courage.
It’s beautiful, Rainie says.
Then I see Hunter’s mom
take the necklace off
and put it over Rainie’s head.
Rainie holds the deep-yellow-orange
stone to the light.
But it’s yours. You shouldn’t
give it to me.
Hunter’s mom
puts a hand on the place
where her own heart beats.
Take it.
I have all the courage I need
right here.
Hunter claps his hands again, three times.
It must be how you get people’s attention
in a family that big.
This song is called “Swallowtail Jig.”
Tell me what you think.
And he tucks his fiddle
under his chin
and starts playing.
I can’t tell which is moving faster,
his bow or his fingers.
Pretty Parsley and Sweet Sunflower
join hands and dance in a circle.
Twins Sunrise and Sunset
disappear outside.
Little Lima Bean stands there
sucking her thumb.
Rainie holds the yellow pendant
to her own chest.
I’m glad Rainie has the
stone of courage,
but still, I look around
for what else might find
its way into her hands
or her bag.
Justine’s stepmom, Brigitte,
is sure
the fountain pen
that was on the desk
in their office
was there before
Rainie came,
but not after.
And while we’re on the subject,
Brigitte said to Justine,
not to be picky
or point fingers
at your friend,
but I’m sure
some of the Hershey’s kisses
in the serving bowl
are missing, too.
Really,
Justine said to
Brigitte,
you count the
chocolate kisses?
Weight
One day the nurse Lila
is sick,
no one can fill in,
and Mom has to work,
so I stay home with Jonah.
The nurses showed me
how Jonah’s machines work,
even the new ones—
O and Fire Alarm.
Vivian says I’m a natural.
I probably inherited that skill
from my father.
Jonah doesn’t have as many machines
as they had at the paper mill,
but I know how to keep
them all running.
Sometimes it snows
at the end of April in Maine
but today is warm and sunny.
I dress Jonah
and move his
wheelchair right up
next to the bed.
A fact about ants
that Clay might know—
they can carry ten to fifty times
their body weight.
Ants will carry dead ants
out of their nests, but
sometimes ants carry
other live ants.
This is called
“social carrying behavior.”
I’m not an ant,
but by watching how the nurses
move Jonah,
I’ve picked up some ant-like
abilities.
Especially since Jonah’s Trapeze
for cranking him up
out of bed
is broken,
and a new one
hasn’t come yet,
it’s good that I’ve got my own
“social carrying” skills.
First I swing his legs
off the bed,
then I put my arms
under his arms
and pull him toward me
until he is sitting up
at the edge of the bed.
Then I do what Johnny calls
“the pivot and shimmy.”
I carry Jonah’s weight
for the quick few seconds
it takes me to stand and turn him
right into the wheelchair.
There’s an amazing split second
in the middle of the pivot,
when I can’t be sure
if I’m holding my brother
or he’s holding me.
I’m getting stronger
by lifting Jonah—
from the bed to the wheelchair
from the wheelchair to the bed.
His weight feels lighter and lighter
as I get stronger and stronger.
It’s like one of those
science rules
Clay loves—
one thing goes up—
the other
goes down.
I put his sunglasses on,
buckle his chest harness
and his seat belt,
and bump him backward
down the three front steps
by myself.
A ribbon of river shines
between the houses
on DEAD END.
I don’t trust the wheelchair
on the slatted metal dock,
but the cement boat ramp
slopes gently to the eddy.
I take Jonah’s sunglasses off—
like the big reveal.
The whirlpools in the eddy
are lit up by the sun.
Still holding the wheelchair,
I lean my head against Jonah’s.
What do you think, Jonah?
See the river.
Remember the river?
Blee-ah Blee-ah,
Jonah says.
Ah, I thought so,
I say.
I knew you wanted to see the
big, beautiful Blee-ah.
Words
I know the trial date
is coming closer,
because Elinor is taking Mom
shopping this weekend
for “conservative court clothes.”
I am thinking they should be
black and white
to remind the judge
she is there to decide
who is wrong.
Mom hasn’t said no
to the hot casseroles
Elinor brings on Sundays—
enough for us
and the nurses.
I think the lesson Elinor learned
at the soup kitchen
was how to help someone
without it feeling like help.
When Mom’s car is gone,
Gwen comes to the line
with more FUDGE—
white chocolate, peanut butter,
chocolate mint.
Her ankle is better
and each time,