Bird (24 page)

“But why?” I cried. “What can undo the curse?”

Grandpa shook his head.

I looked straight at him. “Grandpa, I want you to talk.”

He swallowed hard, and his lips pressed together.
I know.

“Talk, Grandpa.” I took his hand and pressed it hard.

He squeezed my hand back.

It was then that I heard Mom and Dad starting to argue in the living room. Again.

I tried to ignore them. “I'm going to find what it takes to make you talk,” I insisted to Grandpa. “Even if it is a curse. I'll find the solution. I will.”

Grandpa sighed. Like he had given up.

That made me mad. “How come Bird got Pooba, and I don't get anything?”

His face broke right in front of me, but I didn't care anymore. It was true. I lost everything before I even had a chance to fight for it.

Grandpa walked to his window and looked out over our yard, turning so I couldn't see all the pain on his face. And somehow, even though we were in the very same room, it seemed like there was an ocean between us.

Anger rushed in my ears. “Grandpa, I—”

Dad's voice suddenly got louder. “Stop it, Rose. It was not my fault,” he said.

“Oh, no? You let him run off,” Mom retorted.

Something in the way they were talking made me freeze.

“I didn't ‘let' him,” Dad said testily.

“You were in the precious garden.” Mom's voice climbed up the walls. “Didn't you know that kids need to be watched? I told you to keep watch!”

Grandpa looked deep into my eyes, his face wide with fear.

“It was a couple minutes,” Dad said. “You're going to hold those couple minutes against me for the rest of my life?”

“Those couple minutes turned into hours, which turned into our
son's
life.”

I stared back at Grandpa. They were talking about the night Bird jumped.

I shouldn't be listening to this, I realized. But I didn't leave Grandpa's room. I didn't stop them.

“You never told me that Granny went inside with you,” Dad snapped back. “She had been playing with him.”

“Oh, so I have to do everything here? Cook, clean, watch Bird, and have a baby by myself at the same time? How is that supposed to work out, Nigel? So you can stay in your garden and daydream about Jamaica?”

“If I had known you were going into labor, I wouldn't have been in the garden. You know that.”

I could hear Dad cross the living room, with Mom following him.

“People don't plan to have babies, Nigel. Babies come when they come. And if they're weeks early, then they're weeks early.”

Grandpa came over and sat me down on his bed. Then he made as if to leave, to stop their fighting, but I held on to his arm.
Don't stop them. I need to know.

“You could have at least told me something,” Dad said. “Anything. How was I to know that Granny left Bird?”

“
Bird
,” Mom spat. “I hate that name. His name is
John
, and I should have known better than to trust him with you!”

“You have no idea how hard we looked for him!” Dad sobbed suddenly, his words twisting high like a girl's. “Do you know how scared—”

“Do you think it's easy to be in labor when your son is missing?” Mom shrieked. “Do you think I wanted to be giving birth to Jewel? I didn't want Jewel! I wanted my son! Where is my son? My son . . . John, my son . . .”

Right then, my heart went numb. I felt nothing at all. If someone had dug into my chest with a rusty shovel, scooped out my heart, and bashed it in like a field mouse, I don't think I would have noticed.

I didn't want Jewel! I wanted my son!

I was never wanted. Not even the moment I was coming into the world.

I stood up from Grandpa's bed and slowly opened his door. Mom was weeping into her folded arms, her head down on the kitchen table. Dad was by the door, putting on his shoes. I watched them. Even though I wasn't supposed to come early, I still did my part. I had tried so hard to make them happy. And they were supposed to want me and they didn't. They didn't follow through with their part.

They didn't even try.

Mom lifted her head. “Jewel?” she said, with a stunned look on her face. It was as if she had forgotten I existed.

I didn't respond. If my parents never wanted me to exist, then I'm just a burden to them. I'd been wasting my time trying to please them. It had all been impossible and I didn't know it.

Until now.

Dad finished tying his laces.

Maybe if Dad didn't like gardening, he would have caught Bird and Bird wouldn't have jumped. I'd have a brother and I would be wanted. Maybe if Grandpa hadn't called him Bird, there wouldn't have been a duppy to whisper to Bird to jump off the cliff and Dad wouldn't have cursed him. Maybe Mom would have let Dad teach me about duppies and I would have stayed away from the cliff too.

Maybe I just didn't care anymore.

“Jewel?” That was Dad this time.

Bird and I really are a close binary system. He's a part of me. And Bird flew away. He didn't care what they thought either.

They were both watching me now.

“You didn't want me,” I said slowly. “Neither of you did.”

“Oh, Jewel,” Mom said, her face flushing. “I didn't—”

“You just wanted Bird. Even though you got me that day too.”

“Of course we wanted you, honey,” Dad said. But he didn't move closer.

“Once Bird was gone, you gave up.”

“You're misunderstanding things,” Dad said, squaring his shoulders.

“What about me?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” Mom said.

“What about me?” I asked, louder. My parents stared at me like I was growing, filling up the room. Behind me, I heard Grandpa's footsteps approach. “Everything has to do with Bird. And he's dead.”

Mom swallowed.

“Bird is dead.”

“Jewel,” Dad said.

“In the ground. Dead.”

Mom shifted. “Now—”

“You threw my stones away,” I said, and I was surprised that my voice didn't break. Instead it was strong. Firm. Cold. “You went to the cliff and threw my stones away. You didn't even try to understand,” I said to them. “I hate you both.”

“Jewel Campbell,” Dad said, his voice rising, “you will not talk to us like—”

“You didn't even try to understand,” I repeated, my hands clenching into fists. “You never wanted me. You don't have to pretend anymore.”

Dad swallowed.

“I'm leaving,” I announced, heading to the door.

“Jewel, we need to talk about this,” Mom said.

“No,” I said.

Dad put his hand on my shoulder. “Just sit down.”

“Don't touch me!” I screamed, and I jumped back from him as if I were a wild animal.

Grandpa stepped to my side, his eyes blazing. He nodded his chin at the door.
I'll go with you.

Silence.

Mom and Dad looked at each other for a long time, sending each other thoughts with their eyes.

“Be home by supper,” Mom said. Her voice was heavy.

I stormed outside, Grandpa keeping up with me. He didn't say anything, of course, but there wasn't really anything to say. What could he have possibly done? How could there be all this distance in a group of people who lived together under one roof?

I had never, ever felt so alone.

“It's not fair, Grandpa,” I whispered.

He stopped then on the gravel road and hugged me right there, and in the way he hugged me I could tell he wanted to reach right into my heart and give it a tight squeeze, making the sadness drip out like dirty soap water from a sponge. The thing was, it didn't work.

I don't want someone's pity, I realized, my back muscles tightening up. Not even Grandpa's. In that awful instant, I knew I would never get what I wanted: I wanted them to understand how important the circle was, how special the cliff was, that I wanted to be a geologist and dig for arrowheads and be me.

But they wouldn't ever do that. Not even Grandpa. In fact, he'd be the first to stop me from going to the cliff.

A crevasse, wide and dark, opened up in my chest and oaths flowed from it: I don't care anymore about making people happy. I don't need anyone. From now on, I'm going to do what I want.

Grandpa suddenly stepped back from me. Eugene wasn't too far away, walking toward us. Grandpa's jaw tightened, and I could almost see his great, feeling heart shut down, like that big hug he'd given me never happened. Grandpa would never accept Eugene. And that made me even angrier.

“Hey,” I called to Eugene.

Grandpa grabbed my elbow.

I shot Grandpa a look. “Eugene's not a duppy, you know,” I said, jerking my elbow away.

Eugene waved back awkwardly. And for the best friend that he is, Eugene would never accept Grandpa, either. Or understand how duppies ruined our life.

Grandpa's face was twisting up, mad.

The crevasse inside me grew, splitting open wider.

“Eugene is not a duppy,” I said to Grandpa again, louder. I was sure Eugene could hear me.

“Hey, Jewel,” Eugene called out. He stopped maybe ten paces away. “And Grandpa,” he added tightly before turning back to me. “I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out.”

Grandpa's eyes got squinty. He started pulling me away, down the road, back to our house. And I knew it was because he was trying to protect me and all, but I yanked my arm away for a second time and headed to Eugene. Grandpa hurried after me and tried to pull me, grabbing the top of my T-shirt, revealing the gold necklace chain beneath.

Grandpa gasped.

I spun on Grandpa. “Stop it!”

Eugene looked embarrassed. “I can come back later—”

“I'm sick of this!” I screamed at both of them.

I ran, my feet spinning toward the cliff. This was the cliff who saw Bird jump, who held my pebbles, gave me my stones, watched those stones fall. Like a magnet it pulled me there, and I raced to it like a bird flying home.

Eugene shot off after me, but I was faster this time. I tore off the road and cut through the cornfields. The rows of corn were taller than me now, hiding me, their dark and yet glowing tassels ready and ripe. They watched me burst from the fields and into the tall prairie grasses, heavy with seeds and eternity. My feet carried me like a vortex of wind, sweeping me onto the footpath and toward the cliff.

My lungs weren't working hard, not even strained. I nearly flew on the path, my feet light, barely touching. Eugene was behind me, his own feet grinding the tiny stones and twigs deeper into the earth. In no time, the footpath broke through to the cliff, and I sprinted past my pebbles and the gaping space where my circle of stones used to be.

I reached the boulder way before him. And the handholds were there, one after one, just as I knew they would be. My fingers became claws of steel, my feet became spikes, and I climbed up the rugged surface of the rock. It wouldn't be long now before Eugene would get to the cliff, I knew, and I climbed up faster than ever before. My powerful legs pushed me up, up, up, past the ledge where Eugene and I had sat; hand over hand I neared the safety point, the point after which the rock turned into smooth, worn skin and the handholds mere dimples, the point where I had always turned back.

But I wasn't going to turn back now. How could I? I was going to climb to the top of the boulder, and I didn't need Eugene's or anyone else's help. I didn't need anyone at all. And once I got to the top, I would fly, just like Bird. That would make Mom and Dad finally see me. And if they'd get sad and upset, it would be their fault. They threw my stones off the cliff, and my stones were a part of me, so why shouldn't I go too?

Eugene burst through to the cliff, leaping over my pebbles, dashing to the boulder. “Jewel!” he cried, propelling himself up the granite rock. “Please stop!”

There was no way I was going to stop. High above the safety point, the handholds were even worse than I thought, and the tips of my shoes scraped against the rock, trying to find purchase. But strangely, my fingers and forearms and legs weren't even tired yet—it was as if some tingling energy had infused my blood—and just the slightest indentation was enough to keep climbing, enough for me to throw my weight upon. I had never known this feeling before, this sense of absolute power and control over my destiny.

I was invincible.

Eugene had reached the sitting ledge by now and was frantically searching for the handholds I'd used. “Come on, Jewel!” Eugene shouted. “Don't do this!” I looked down to see his face all contorted, more frightened than I'd ever seen him before.

I didn't say anything. Not even Eugene was going to stop me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eugene lunge for a handhold—not the one I had used, not as good—and then stretch for his next one. “Go away!” I shouted down at him. Then I got a little wobbly and wrenched my eyes back to my own handholds. The top of the boulder was maybe twenty more feet up, and I knew Eugene was gaining on me. I was going to tell him that I had seen the path he was taking and it was going to get him stuck, but just then I found my next little dimple in the rock, the next slight curve to press the edge of my foot on, and looking just a bit farther I could see the faint path to get to the—

“Jewel!” Eugene screamed—a scream raw and primal. My heart seized as I heard the slightest sound of fingers slipping. I looked back just in time to see the curve of his hands still stiff but this time holding on to nothing; I saw his eyes widen, huge and white against the black of his face, eyes of terror that fixed on mine, his mouth open in an O—

And then he fell backward, into the sky.

“
John!
” I shrieked, and it came from some deep, dark place.

His body seemed to hang in the air for a moment, so helpless, so about to be pulled down by gravity and forces and everything else that's out there that we can't see. And while he was hanging, suspended in the air, Grandpa broke through on the footpath, running, and saw the falling boy and heard me shouting “
John!
” and his mouth opened and this time a contorted, anguished animal squeal came from that throat. And then I watched Eugene fall. I watched his body fall through the sky and hit the ground at the base of the boulder.