Unthinkable (11 page)

_{On the day}
that she destroyed her family’s safety, Fenella
awoke feeling strong and alert. It was October tenth, well
into autumn by the calendar, but the morning sky outside
the window promised summery, cloudless weather.

Fenella’s mind was cloudless too. She was in total control
of the first task and nobody was going to be hurt.
She got out of bed. In the next second, the cat was crouched
by her feet, his almond-shaped eyes glittering. She nodded at
him. They had gone over Fenella’s plans meticulously the night
before. Ryland had made only one suggestion, and had even
said an approving word about her timetable and logic.
She followed the cat’s gaze to the bedside clock. “Good
morning,” she said aloud, impatient.
Miranda answered from the next bed; more grunt than
words.

“We need to get up, Miranda,” Fenella said. “The race is
this morning, you know.”
“Ummmph.”
Fenella threw a pillow at Miranda and darted down the
hall to the bathroom. When Fenella returned, wrapped in
a towel, Miranda was sitting on the edge of her bed, feet
dangling.
“I’m excited about the race,” Fenella said chattily. She really was. The Boston Cream Pie 5K would get everybody in
the family—actually, probably the entire neighborhood—
out of her way and over to Main Street. “It will be fun to see
Lucy and Zach run.” She felt a pang because, of course, she
was not really going to see them run.
“Then we get a pie,” she added, although she doubted
that this would actually happen either.
“We’ll get at least five pies,” Miranda corrected wearily.
“Some of the racers turn them down. Calories.”
“What are calories? Oh, wait. I remember they were in
The Way Things Work.”
“Is the bathroom free?” asked Miranda.
“Yes. Everybody else is already up. You need to hurry so
you can have breakfast before we leave.”
“I’m not hungry.” Miranda was never hungry. She shuffled out of the room, shoulders bowed.
She might try to stay home today, warned Ryland. She
won’t want to be out there in a crowd, with everybody making noise.
“She has to go,” said Fenella, suddenly tense. “I’ll make
her go.”
Ryland sniffed.
Fenella turned to get dressed.
The Boston Cream Pie 5K race was a fund-raiser for the
local high school track team, open to anybody of any age
who lived in a three-town radius. Four hundred pies had
been ordered for the finishers, and Lucy, her friend Sarah
Hebert, and Fenella had made thirty-six of them yesterday.
It had surprised Fenella, how much fun it had been to
hang out with Lucy and Sarah and bake.
Sarah and Fenella did the actual mixing and baking, while
Lucy worked on assembly. This involved cutting each circular yellow sponge cake in half horizontally, plopping on a
thick layer of custard, and putting the layers back together
so they could be iced. Lucy was not good at it; her top layers
had a tendency to go on crooked. “Taste, not beauty,” Lucy
would say before turning haphazardly to the next cake. Behind her back, Fenella edged many a top layer into a better
position. Once, while she was doing this, she caught Sarah’s
eye, and Sarah winked. Shyly, Fenella had winked back.
How happy it would have made Minnie to know that
sometime in the future Fenella would be out in the world,
with family and friends, making pies. Thinking of this,
Fenella paused in the act of tying on her sneakers. Of
course, Minnie would have been horrified if she knew what
Fenella was doing today.
Fenella shook her head firmly to dispel doubt.
Ryland at her heels, she went down the hall to Dawn’s
room. The child was not there, thankfully. Still, Fenella tried
not to look around much. She quickly knelt by a box in the
corner filled with outgrown baby clothes. “Stop squirming,”
she instructed Ryland.
I hate this, the cat grumbled as Fenella pulled a stretchy
flowered T-shirt over his head, inserting his front paws in
the sleeves and settling it around his midsection.
“You agreed.” Fenella pulled out another garment.
I know, but—wait! Not a hat! The cat tried to run, but
Fenella had him firmly under one arm and a few seconds
later, he was snarling at her from beneath the brim of a lacy
white sunbonnet.
“Don’t be rude,” she said, tying a double knot under his
chin.
Tell me again why this is necessary.
“I want to be sure everybody sees you.”
The cat glared. Fenella ducked her head to hide a smile.
“Go downstairs. Hide. Anywhere but in the knitting basket.”
Soledad tied the lid on it.
“Good.”
I could chew through the ties.
“D on’t.”
Fenella got to her feet, yelled through the bathroom door
at Miranda to hurry up, and descended toward the kitchen
and the scent of coffee. In the kitchen, Zach was stretching,
Lucy was looking for an overripe banana she had hidden
somewhere so no one else would eat it, and Soledad wanted
to know if anybody else had seen a certain item in the news.
“We don’t have any milk,” said Leo plaintively. Fenella smiled
at all of them, even the child, whose nonsense syllables
formed a soft, running babble beneath the other voices.
Then she stiffened. Walker Dobrez sat at the table with
a mug of coffee in his hands and a piece of half-eaten buttered toast before him. He was wearing clothes for running.
He looked at Fenella with an expression that was half wary,
half questioning.
Alarm lurched through Fenella. She knew instantly that
Walker was not just there for the Boston Cream Pie race. He
was also there to find out which to believe: her kiss, or her
instruction to go away.
She would make it clear. It would be fine. He was not the
sort of young man who would need to be told more than
twice. In fact, it spoke volumes that he had put aside his
pride to come back this second time.
But she didn’t want to be cruel, or to shame him. She
liked him. It was just that kissing him had been a terrible
mistake. Why had she done it? Then she remembered being
with him in his truck, and she knew.
“Fenella? I brought something for you.” Walker’s voice
was shy. He reached into the pocket of his shirt, pulled out a
white envelope, and held it out toward Fenella.
A gift? For her? Fenella’s gaze fastened on the envelope.
She knew she ought to say something dismissive.
Nothing came to mind.
A gift . . .
Walker said defensively, “It’s only a little thing. Uh. It was
free. I just thought, you know, you might want to do this.”
Fenella took the envelope. It held two pieces of paper
with writing on them. New England International Automobile Show.
“It’s next weekend,” Walker said, speaking rapidly. “I
thought you might want to go. Not necessarily with me. I mean,
I’ll take you if you want. But you could also go alone, or with
someone else. That would be fine. It’s up to you. I thought I’d
tell you about it and get the tickets. In case. They’re free tickets,” he repeated. “Anybody can print them.”
Fenella stood still.
Zach looked from Fenella, to Walker, to Fenella, and then
to Walker again, at which point Lucy elbowed him.
Leo opened a cabinet and stared into it.
Soledad became absorbed in fastening a barrette into
Dawn’s hair.
Lucy pulled one leg up behind her to stretch it.
There was more writing on the tickets.

The premier showcase of the newest model year!
Imported and domestic vehicles—cars, vans, crossovers, hybrids,
light trucks, and sport utilities!

“Next weekend?” Fenella said. She was only asking for
clarification, but Walker’s face lit up.
Miranda came up behind her. “What’s that?”
“Auto show tickets,” said Lucy. She stretched her other
leg. “Fenella’s going with Walker.”
Fenella tried to hand Miranda the tickets, but Miranda
shook her head. “No, I mean the leaf.” She took the envelope
from Fenella and pulled out a large, glossy green oak leaf,
tender and flexible as springtime.
“Pretty,” she said, and twirled it on its stem.

Miranda grinned. She handed the leaf to Fenella, and
slipped past her into the kitchen. “May I have the rest of
the eggs?”

Leo stared at her. Then he seemed to pull himself together. “Nothing would make me happier than to see you
eat.”

Miranda heaped a plate with scrambled eggs. “When do
we leave for the race?” She opened the refrigerator and took
out orange juice. She loaded the toaster with two pieces of
bread.

“Twenty minutes.” Lucy’s gaze—and Leo’s—and Soledad’s—
and Fenella’s—followed Miranda around the kitchen.
Miranda opened a cabinet. “Is there peanut butter?”

“In the refrigerator,” Soledad said. “Third shelf. You’ll
have to give it a good stir.”
“I’ll get it for you,” said Lucy. “Do you want coffee too?”
“No, just juice.” Miranda poured herself a giant glass. She
sat down to eggs, peanut butter toast, and juice, as if she
ate this amount every morning. Everyone pretended not
to watch her eat. Soledad surreptitiously pushed a bowl of
apples nearer.
Fenella discovered she was gently rubbing the surface of
the oak leaf. She looked down at it. The leaf was unusually
large. Its skin felt smooth and subtly cool; its veins stretched
out in a symmetrical pattern.
Touching it had a calming effect.
Fenella pictured tree roots, taking nourishment from
the soil, and giving it back in the form of falling leaves. She
watched Miranda eat. Miranda, who had touched the leaf.
The leaf.
She felt her blood warm. The leaf!
“We need to get ready to leave,” said Lucy. “Ten minutes.”
People scattered on various errands, leaving only Miranda,
Walker, and Fenella in the kitchen.
“Eat something,” said Miranda generously to Fenella.
Fenella nodded absently. She sat down next to Walker
and across from Miranda. She put the leaf down on the
table and asked Walker, “Where did you find this?”
“It was on the ground outside my apartment. It caught
my eye, maybe because it’s so green. Most of the leaves are
turning color now. I must have put it in the envelope without realizing. Embarrassing.”
“I like it,” Fenella said simply. “I’m glad you picked it up.
Can I keep it?”
Walker smiled at her. “Yeah.”
He said nothing else. Fenella knew he was waiting. She
stroked the leaf again and glanced across at Miranda.
Miranda put her hand on top of Fenella’s, where Fenella was
touching the leaf. Miranda too smiled, and it smoothed the
lines away from her forehead.
“Fenella’s not in a place where she wants to date anybody,”
Miranda said to Walker, as easily as if she were talking about
the weather.
Fenella smiled gratefully at Miranda and then at Walker.
“I would like to go to the auto show. But . . .” She lifted a
hand.
“I see,” said Walker slowly. Then, remarkably, after a few
seconds, he said, decisively, “I get it. Okay. Well, let’s go to
the auto show as friends, then. Because you would really,
really like it. Miranda, want to come with us? I can print out
another ticket.”
Fenella looked at him, impressed.
“Sure. Thanks.” Miranda cut her second piece of peanut
butter toast corner to corner, and handed half across to
Fenella. “You’re not eating. Here.”
Fenella took a bite. The silence in the kitchen felt awkward,
but not in a bad way. Had her problem with Walker really
been solved so easily by Miranda? And was Walker truly
taking it well? Yes, he was. She felt a tendril of regret, which
she knew she should uproot. She nibbled on her toast. She
eyed Walker sidelong—and saw his jaw drop.
Ryland had raced into the kitchen, fully dressed in
Dawn’s old clothes.
Dawn toddled behind him at remarkable speed. Her
outstretched hands brushed the cat’s fan tail before Ryland
leaped to the top of the kitchen table. For one instant, his
jeweled eyes glared at Fenella from beneath the brim of the
lacy white baby’s bonnet. Then he jumped from the table to
the counter.
Dawn screeched with delight. She toddled to the counter and held on, looking up in ecstasy, babbling nonsense
syllables.
“I dressed Ryland up for the race,” Fenella said as Walker’s and Miranda’s faces swiveled her way. “I’ll push him in
the doll carriage. Doesn’t he look cute?”
The cat spat.
Miranda put one hand over her mouth. Her shoulders
shook with laughter.
“He won’t go in the doll carriage,” said Walker. “Not unless you tie him down or put him in his carrier.”
“He’ll go,” said Fenella blandly. “He promised me he
would. Didn’t you, kitty-kitty?” She let herself enjoy a brief
fantasy of pushing Ryland in the doll perambulator, dressed
in his baby clothes, into a large crowd of people who would
all laugh and comment and want to pet him. She could almost hear the furious curses Ryland would direct at her.
It would be so worth it.
“But—” Walker began seriously.
“Kidding,” said Fenella. Another new word. “I dressed
him up for fun. I know I can’t take him.”
Walker looked relieved.
On the counter, Ryland sat down on his haunches and
clawed at the bonnet with his front paw. He succeeded only
in twisting it over one eye. Fenella and Miranda laughed.
Dawn screeched and began trying to jump. Walker stood
and picked Dawn up, delighting the child, who at first
thought he was lifting her toward the cat. When she realized that he was instead taking her out of the kitchen, she
yelled her displeasure.
Fenella got up and shooed Ryland to the floor. He stayed
close by her ankles as she helped Miranda clear the dishes
and put them into the dishwasher. This was another fascinating piece of machinery that worked by pumping heated
soapy water in a directed stream across the surfaces within
its enclosure. Then clear water. Then there was a drying
cycle. Machines were so wonderful.
There would be many vehicles at this automobile show.
Fenella wondered how different their engines would be
from each other. Would she be allowed to look within
them? To touch? Surely. She would study up beforehand, so
that she could better appreciate everything.
Fenella?
She met Ryland’s eye, the one that was not hidden behind
his askew bonnet brim.
Are you ready?
Fenella bit her lip. For a few minutes, she’d gotten lost
in pretense. She’d drifted into thinking that she’d go to the
race. That she’d watch for Lucy and Zach and Walker, and
Lucy’s friend Sarah, and cheer wildly as they went running
by. That she’d come home afterward and eat pie and study
up on engines, so that next week, when she went to the auto
show with Walker—
But none of this was going to happen.
She put her hand on the leaf. It vibrated gently. It was
alive; it was fey. She knew it. Receiving it felt like encouragement that she was doing the right thing.
She slipped it into her pocket. She nodded at Ryland as
the rest of the family crowded back into the kitchen.
“I’m ready,” she said.
“Great. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Leo held the outside
door open. “Fenella, do you want a sweater? Soledad, I’m
dropping the kids at the start of the race. Then I’ll meet you
guys—where?”
“Moody Street on the corner by the ice cream shop,” said
Soledad.
Walker said, “I thought I was going to take Lucy and
Zach with me in my truck.”
“No, leave your truck and come in the van with us,” Lucy
said. “That way you don’t have to park.”
Dawn spotted the cat and began screaming again. Soledad barely managed to keep hold of her. “If we don’t go,
there won’t be any space left for us to stand on the street.”
“All right.”
“Let’s go.”
“Where’s her binky?”
“I’m coming!”
There was a mad cram. As Fenella had instructed, Ryland slipped through the doorway with everyone else,
and lingered out of sight on the porch. Soon Lucy, Zach,
Walker, and Leo were in the van, the wailing Dawn had
been strapped into her stroller, and Soledad, Miranda, and
Fenella began walking toward Moody Street, Soledad pushing the stroller.
Then Ryland ran. He was gloriously visible in his white
bonnet and floral top. He raced from the front porch, down
the steps, across the small front lawn to the driveway. He
wove artfully around the van, and then did a double circle
around the stroller, tangling himself briefly around Soledad’s feet. He stopped for two seconds where Dawn could
see him, long enough for her to scream even louder in
delight.
Then he trotted briskly across the street and disappeared
into Mrs. Angelakis’s bushes.
“I’ll grab him and put him in the house,” said Fenella.
“Go ahead. I’ll catch up.” She jogged across the street to
Mrs. Angelakis’s house, calling Ryland’s name, poking
ostentatiously into the bushes.
There was no time for anybody to argue with her. The
van pulled out. The walkers called encouraging things as
they moved down the street.
Within a minute, everybody was gone, and even Dawn’s
screams had faded.
Ryland came out of the bushes next to where Fenella
knelt.
They’d have seen me just fine without the baby clothes.
“Maybe. This worked, so why don’t you stop criticizing?”
Okay, whatever. It’s time to blow up the house. After you
get me out of these clothes. The cat turned to go.
Fenella hesitated.
Aren’t you ready?
Fenella put her hand in her pocket to touch the leaf. “Yes.”
They walked silently back to the house and into the kitchen.
Fenella fiddled with the gas line that led to the kitchen stove,
and then with the stove controls.
This is the right thing to do, she told herself again. Everybody is away. Nobody will be hurt.
She waited with tense shoulders while the kitchen—and
the other rooms downstairs—filled with gas.
The smell of the gas got stronger and stronger. It filled
her nostrils and her lungs. She tried to breathe shallowly.
Once, her right hand twitched forward on its own toward
the controls of the stove to turn it off. She snatched the hand
back and held its wrist fiercely with her other hand, the one
holding the matches.
She swallowed the terrible taste of the gas.
Ryland stood on all fours near the kitchen door leading
outside. His tail was at half-mast and his whiskers twitched
convulsively. As the seconds ticked by, his expression
changed from bland to curious to astounded.
You’re really doing it.
Fenella nodded. She couldn’t speak. She could feel the
gas pressing up against the back of her throat as if it were a
solid.
“Run now!” she said to the cat. “Now!”
The cat raced from the house.
Then Fenella was too afraid to wait another second, lest
she change her mind. Which she couldn’t, she couldn’t.
Hands trembling, she struck a match.
A flame burst into being between her fingers.
Then the flames were all around her: blue, purple, yellow.
Sucking all the air from her lungs. Exploding in her ears.
Melting her skin. Gobbling her eyes.
In the split second before her entire body exploded in
flame, Fenella flung her arms wide.
Please, she thought, before she lost consciousness. Please
let me die right now.