Another Kind of Hurricane (28 page)

“What was that?” said Zavion.

He and Henry were back on the trail. The ground was muddy and full of puddles. They had to keep their heads down to watch where they stepped.

“Just a flash storm,” said Henry.

Silent steam rose from the ground, like the earth was recalibrating itself, letting go of some of the water that had just thundered down into it.

“That always happen up here?” said Zavion.

“No,” said Henry. “Only sometimes.”

Not that night
, he thought.

The memory flooded back to Henry.

—

The bird on the wind swooped so low that the boys and Brae could almost feel its feathers. The last tree on the mountain, one
of the red spruces just below them, rustled and they knew the bird had landed there, maybe settling in for the night
.

Henry pointed at the bandanna. “Brae—” he said, moving his finger so he was pointing at Brae. Then he slowly moved his finger so it was pointing at the bandanna again. Brae grabbed the bandanna in his mouth
.

“No, Brae,” said Henry
.

The tree rustled again. A lot. Too much movement for a bird to make. Brae got up off of the sleeping bag and trotted over to the tree, the bandanna still hanging from his mouth
.

“Brae!” yelled Henry
.

“You taught him to steal food?” said Wayne
.

Brae bounded back to Henry and Wayne, his tail wagging, and then he doubled back to the tree. When he came back again, someone was with him
.

“Awww jeeez,” said Henry
.

“Jeezum Crow,” said Wayne. “Your timing is incredible.”

“Did you actually follow us up here?” said Henry. Nopie was going to ruin the whole night
.

“Nah, I come up here all the time—”

“Bull—” said Wayne
.

“I do.”

“You're full of it.”

“It takes three hours and twelve minutes to climb the mountain
from my driveway to this spot. I can turn off my headlamp in three places, I know the trail so well—”

“Okay, okay!” said Wayne
.

“I love being up here at night,” said Nopie
.

“We love being up here at night,” said Henry. This trail was his and Wayne's. This night was his and Wayne's
.

Brae whimpered. He still had the bandanna in his mouth, so the sound came out muffled
.

“You're teaching Brae that trick all wrong,” said Nopie
.

“Huh?” said Henry
.

“That trick. You're trying to teach him to open a present, right?”

“Maybe—”

“The command has to be clear.”

“It was clear—”

“Uh-uh. Just pointing at the bandanna is confusing—”

“What do you know about training a dog?” Henry's voice seemed to echo off the moon. “You don't even have a dog—”

“I trained my grandpa's corgi to count,” said Nopie
.

“A corgi's not a dog,” said Henry. “A corgi's a pig that eats dog food.”

Brae whimpered again
.

“Hey, cool it, Henry,” said Wayne. “Brae thinks you just insulted dogs everywhere—”

“Watch,” said Nopie. “This is how you should teach him. Squeeze your hand into a fist—”

“Like this?” Henry stepped toward Nopie, both fists in front of his face
.

“Whoa, chill, Henry,” said Wayne
.

“I'll show you.” Nopie turned to Brae. “Drop it,” he said
.

Brae dropped the bandanna
.

“Don't tell my dog what to do,” said Henry
.

“Good boy,” said Nopie
.

Brae wagged his tail
.

“Shut up, Nopie!”
yelled Henry. And then he pushed Nopie hard, and Nopie fell backward onto the ground. He jumped onto Nopie's chest and pinned him to the ground. He felt Wayne's hands under his armpits, pulling him up. He stumbled to his feet, elbowing Wayne back
.

No one spoke after that. Nopie looked from Henry to Wayne, the whites of his eyes shining in the moonlight. He shook his head once, a small erasing gesture, Henry thought, and then tilted his head up toward the night sky. Nopie turned on his headlamp, a circle of light talking to the circle of the moon. He stood up
.

“Nopie
—”
said Henry
.

“Have a good night,” Nopie said, rubbing the top of Brae's head
.

Henry and Wayne watched him disappear into the darkness
.

“You sure let him have it,” said Wayne
.

Henry looked down at his hands in disbelief
.

“I don't know what happened,” Henry whispered. He looked down at his hands. They didn't seem like they belonged to him. The moonlight made them seem larger than they were. Maybe they actually were larger. Like Wayne's size. He'd never pushed someone like that before
.

“I can't believe you did that.” Wayne wouldn't let it go
.

Henry couldn't believe it either. Henry's face flushed with shame. He shoved his hands into his pockets
.

Wayne pulled something out of his pocket. “Here,” he said, “it seems like you could use this now.”

“What is it?” said Henry. But he knew
.

“The marble. Here, take it.” Wayne held the marble out to Henry
.

The marble felt ice cold in Henry's hand. “I don't want it anymore,” he said
.

“What do you mean, you don't want it anymore?”

“I'm done.”

“But this is what we do. We pass it back and forth—”

“Didn't you hear me? I'm done. I'm done with this good-luck crap.” Chills ran through Henry's body. Like the wind was blowing across his bones instead of across his skin
.

Brae picked up the bandanna and dropped it in front of
Henry's feet. He sat, between Henry and Wayne, and looked from one to the other
.

Wayne rubbed the circle on Brae's head. “Henry—so what if Nopie was right about the trick—it's okay, you know—maybe it's okay if he helps you teach Brae—” Brae stuck his nose into Wayne's palm
.

“You have no idea what you're talking about!” Henry's chest felt hot. His eyes felt hot. “I'm done with this marble.” He felt like a broken blender, buzzing inside, overheating, unable to stop. “If you don't want it, let's just throw it off the edge of the mountain.”

“Jeezum Crow, Henry. This isn't the way we do it. We pass it back and forth for luck. I'm not going to give it back to you, you know,” said Wayne. “Even if you want it, I'm not going to give it back.”

“I don't want it. It doesn't work. It's crap.” Henry shivered. “It's too cold up here to sleep. We need to go down the trail a bit.” Henry picked up his sleeping bag
.

“That wasn't the plan,” said Wayne
.

Henry walked close to Wayne. “We're changing the plan. We're changing a lot of things. Like this?” Henry held the marble up between them. “I don't need it.” Standing there, eyes blazing in the night sky, Wayne did seem huge. “You don't need it either.”

“You're wrong,” said Wayne. He grabbed the marble and walked away, like he was going to walk right off the face of the mountain, but then he turned around and came back. He picked up the sleeping bag and stuffed it into his backpack. “You're dead wrong.”

Henry told Zavion the whole story.

“We didn't talk much after that. And then we woke up and had the race and—” Henry squeezed his eyes shut. “I shouldn't have tried to win,” Henry said, the words tumbling out. “I didn't have the marble. I wasn't supposed to win. It should have been like it always was. Wayne in front of me. Then I would have seen—then I could have stopped—” He scrambled up and stumbled over to the edge of the trail.

Zavion walked over to join Henry. Brae did too. The three of them stood at the edge of the cliff. The drop was steep, about fifteen feet to the ground. They stared over the rocky edge onto the top of a small tree, two jagged boulders, and dirt below.

Henry turned to face Zavion. “It was my fault. I said the marble was crap. I didn't take it. I should have taken it—that was the rule—”

Zavion stared at Henry. His face was soaked with rain, but fear was still visible underneath all that wet. Zavion saw it clearly on Henry's face. He knew that fear. All of a sudden he remembered what Ms. Cyn had said to him the evening he left Baton Rouge.

—

“You two are twins, you know.”

Zavion laughed. “You're kidding, right? Henry's white and I'm black. He's short and I'm tall. He's wide and I'm skinny. He's from the North and I'm from the South.”

He's from a mountain and I'm from a hurricane.

“He is sad…,” said Ms. Cyn, “And you…are sad. Do you see that, Zavion?”

Zavion squinted through the kitchen window. Henry was sitting on the grass tickling Osprey. Tiger flew up and down, landing on Henry's knee, then Osprey's shoulder
.

“Henry has the same sad blue thing you have,” said Ms. Cyn, “and the same scared gray thing.” She turned Zavion to face her. “If you can feel it in yourself, you can feel it in him.”

—

“Henry,” Zavion said quietly, looking over the cliff, “it wasn't your fault.”

The clouds were making a wider circle around the sun. Its rays filtered down through the trees and lit up the ground
like it was singing its own sun-rendition of “This Little Light of Mine.”

“You wanna hear something weird?” said Henry. Zavion nodded. “I felt more at home in New Orleans than I have felt anywhere else since Wayne died.”

“I feel that way about this mountain.” Zavion paused for a moment. “I sort of wish my mother had climbed it. I wish her face was carved across the pinnacle….”

The boys stood still. The woods seemed to stand still too. No rain falling. No wind blowing. Brae was on the ground between Henry and Zavion. He crossed one of his paws in front of the other and licked the mud from between his toes. His licking became the only sound.

—

Henry unclipped the leash. “Wanna climb to the top?” he said.

Zavion touched the marble in his pocket, tightened his scarf around his neck, and nodded.