Of Delicate Pieces by A. Lynden Rolland

blue today?”
    “Because it’s Parrish Day,” Kaleb grumbled, sulking in his seat. Flopping forward onto the table, he lifted his head to look at the counselor. “Which presents the question of why we’re here if no one is working today?”
    Their parents were working all right … working on killing brain cells. On July eleventh, the adults in town would begin at the top of Main Street and stop in every bar on the way down like visiting relatives on Christmas. As the only adults in Parrish who were not already three sheets to the wind, the camp counselors grew antsier by the minute. Their work ethic perspired from them, dripping down their foreheads. By five o’clock, the legal drinkers in town would join the illegal drinkers at the beach. Parrish Day presented a yearly opportunity for the entire town to lose itself. Parents turned a blind eye toward their children just as the children turned a blind eye in return.
    Alex’s father was especially drunk on Parrish Day. He hated to be social, but on July eleventh his doomed marriage to Erin Ash, formerly Erin Havilah, forced him to be a public figure.
    “That’s right. It’s Parrish Day, but you didn’t answer my question. Why do we celebrate the color blue?”
    The only response was another roar from the air-conditioning unit.
    The counselor raised her voice. “Colonial Parrish kept its head above water with its abundant crop of indigo.”
    Kaleb shot up in his seat. “Indigo? What is that?”
    “It’s blue, dummy.” Jonas scoffed.
    “No kidding, moron, but the color blue doesn’t exactly grow on trees, does it?”
    The camp counselor seemed pleased that she managed to capture Kaleb’s attention, so much that she ignored his disrespect toward his brother. She perched on a nearby table.
    “No, it doesn’t grow on trees; it grows from the ground. Indigo is found in plants. Parrish Day commemorates the founding of our little town, but we wear blue in honor of the crop.”
    The girl next to Alex began to sing the nursery rhyme again. Mackenzie. She shared a class with Kaleb.
    “Please don’t sing that,” the counselor begged. The older campers began to chant in unison while the younger campers quivered in their seats:
     
    On the nights when the breeze stinks of indigo
    Shut your window tight on the sill.
    The Havilahs dance in the shadows
    Leaving fingerprints shaped like Anil.
     
    You’ll hear them calling for you.
    They’ll knock thrice at the door.
    And you’ll wake in the morning to find the adorning
    Of blue footprints streaked ’cross the floor.
     
    They come for you in silence
    And whisper in voices so hushed
    And on their breath is the scent of death
    With traces of ashes and dust.
     
    Jonas stood on the table, using his paintbrush to lead the group like an orchestra conductor, but it was hard to tell whether he orchestrated the singing or the crying. Gabe ignored it, dipping his fingertips into the paint and dabbing blue prints on his paper. Kaleb tapped his fingers on his chin like a piano, composing a song of mischief.
    “You gave me an idea,” he said to Gabe.
    “Oh, joy.”
    Chase touched Alex’s hand. He didn’t need to speak. His expression told her that she needn’t worry. This would be harmless fun.
    Kaleb had already snatched the sidewalk chalk from a nearby bucket, and he hunched over, sketching out a schematic of Parrish. The town was shaped like two giant backward C’s, one spooning the next. The outermost part of the circle represented the modern town, built as a fortress to protect the past. He shaded this larger C with peach chalk. The older, smaller C encircled the Esker woods that gave way to the Parrish Cove. At the highest part of the woods sat the old Frank house. Kaleb grabbed the blue chalk and drew this first. Their friend, Liv Frank, had a grandmother who lived in the cottage that had withstood its ground for centuries. Upon seeing the building, one might believe they’d entered a time warp if it weren’t