Another Kind of Hurricane Read Free Page B

way?” asked Papa.
    The firefighter pointed ahead. “Forward.”
    No—
    Up—
    Up—Up—Up—
    Zavion thought of Mama again. How she had promised to take him to her mountain. Grandmother Mountain.
Up
—
up
—
up—to the top
. To see the view. To see where Mama grew up. She had said they would go in the fall, when the monarch butterflies were there.
    “Only we’ll be migrating north, not south,” she’d said.
    “I’m sorry,” the firefighter repeated. “I’m so sorry.” Then he paddled off in the direction of Zavion and Papa’s house.
    But there was no house.
    Zavion felt in his pocket for the shingles. He laid them flat across both palms. Two shingles was all. But it felt as if he was holding his whole house. It had taken Zavion so long to figure out a way to restore balance after Mama died. And now—his whole house teetered there in his shaking, wet hands.
    He closed his fingers around the shingles. He felt the hard, smooth slate. But he also felt wood and nails, his bedroom wall and paint too. Home. He felt home precariously balanced in the palms of his hands. Then he stuffed it all back into his pocket and began to walk again.

chapter 6

HENRY
    Brae followed Henry up to his room. Henry put his hand in his pocket and touched the marble. Freaking marble. He should have left it outside. Let a bird find it and put it in its nest.
    But he didn’t.
    He couldn’t.
    He had grabbed it back up.
    Henry kicked open his door.
    “You scared me!” Mom said.
    Henry’s clothes were in a big pile on the floor. Some of Wayne’s too. Mom folded and stacked them.
    “What are you doing?” Henry demanded.
    “Did you forget about the clothing drive for the victims of the hurricane?” Mom asked. “I wanted to give some clothes to the drive.”
    He had forgotten. He grabbed Wayne’s red sweatshirt out of Mom’s hands.
    “Henry—” said Mom.
    Out his window, the sun lit Mount Mansfield from behind so that it glowed. Henry’s arm shot out. His fist punched the edge of the window frame, a loose joint exploding. Even in his room. Freaking mountain.
    “Henry—” Mom said again. “That’s not like you—”
    Henry rubbed his knuckles.
Shoot, that hurt
.
    “You said you wanted to donate some clothes too.”
    Henry turned around. “I know. But not this.” He wrapped the sweatshirt around his throbbing hand.
    “It’s Wayne’s, isn’t it?” Mom asked.
    Henry hung his head. “Can you just leave?” he said under his breath.
    “Why don’t you stay home from school again tomorrow, Henry,” said Mom. “You’re not ready yet.”
    “Please go.”
    Mom sighed. “Somehow,” she began, “I don’t know how, but somehow you’re going to be okay.” She walked out of Henry’s room.
    “I will never be okay.” Henry sat down on his floor. Brae lay beside him and Henry patted the perfect black circle on the top of his head.
    Henry unwrapped the sweatshirt from his hand and laid it flat on the floor. It was much bigger than him. Wayne had been tall and lanky, the perfect size for playing shortstop. He could make a diving lunge for the ball and still throw to first for the out. More of Wayne’s clothes lay on the floor. Henry grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a pair of socks. He laid the pants under the sweatshirt and the socks under the pants. He dug under the heap of clothes and found Wayne’s Cougars baseball cap, their school team.
    “Oh, man.” The words were loud and rough coming out of Henry’s mouth.
    Brae turned his head to see what the fuss was all about.
    Henry had built Wayne.
    He lay down on the floor on his back, his head almost touching the baseball cap. The night they’d snuck out of the house, they were in sleeping bags at the top of Mount Mansfield. Like this. Head to head. At the top of the world. A billion stars, the two of them and Brae.
    Henry sighed. But Brae didn’t turn around this time. It wasn’t that kind of sound. Instead he curled himself into a ball and settled in, like he