Dad.” I’m not the swearing sort, but my fury is rising up. It is one of Jenny’s huge trees, a brownsmear in a black paint storm, branches whipping and cracking. “That’s just bullshit. I hate psychobabble bullshit like that.”
He’s silent. I can hear him breathing. My heart is pounding. I’m too furious to speak. We’re both silent for a long while.
“I may never forgive you,” I finally say. I feel like this might be true.
And then I remember that the pixiebell is still downstairs, and so is Vito. “I gotta go.”
“Tess.” He is asking something of me. Whatever he wants, I can’t give.
“I’ve really got to go.”
I hang up and run so fast down the stairs, it’s lucky I don’t break my neck. But the pixiebell is right there where I left it, slouched but undisturbed.
Jenny and I wait for a peach pie to cool. She wants me to stay with her as long as I want to stay. I don’t exactly have a lot of other options, but I think that’d be hurtful to say. She cuts that pie, finally, and my phone bleeps. Dad has sent me a photo. It’s a picture of a tall guy outside what looks to be a Mexican restaurant. The guy is leaning against a concrete wall, which is painted to look like a desert. The guy has tall hair. Really tall hair.
Jarvis Believed That Even Hair Could Get to Heaven , Dad’s text reads.
But I don’t respond. I don’t respond because all I can see is Dad and Mary sharing a basket of tortilla chips as theydrip salsa on plastic-covered menus and wait for their margaritas to arrive. And I don’t respond because I know that if I were on a plane and the yellow masks popped out from the ceiling, I’d put the oxygen on my kid first. I would. I don’t care what they say.
chapter nine
Amaranthus caudatus : love-lies-bleeding. The seeds of the amaranth, the most important Aztec grain, are ancient. At one time, they were so critical to the culture that each year, a month-long festival celebrated the blue hummingbird god that alighted upon the plant. A huge statue of the god was made from the seeds, and at the end of the festival, everyone was given a piece of the god to eat. In Victorian times, though, the flowers from the love-lies-bleeding plant meant only one thing: hopeless love. Giving them was a declaration that your heart was in over your head.
The pixiebell has not recovered from Vito’s mauling. Two days later, I think it looks worse. It makes it hard to concentrate on what Meg is saying.
“—his house . What’s she doing at his house?”
“Whose house?”
“For God’s sake, Tess! Dillon’s! Who have we been talking about for the last fifteen minutes!”
“So, he’s moved on. Good for him.”
“Don’t you even care ?”
“Remember when we used to wear pajama bottoms to school? We liked it at the time, but looking back, you realize how stupid it looked.”
“Okay, okay. Fine. I shouldn’t care about this more than you do.”
“When he kissed me, I’d be planning my outfit for the next day. I’d be writing my thesis statement for a paper. Dillon and I had the kind of relationship that’s more like trying out a relationship.” I think I hear a car coming down the road. “Hey, can we talk later? I’ve got to go.”
Jenny made an emergency call to Margaret MacKenzie from her class, who is also one of the leading members of the Parrish Island Garden Society. If anyone will know what to do about Pix, it’s her.
“Okay, but it’s weird having you gone,” Meg says. “I miss you! And what your dad is doing . . . My mom won’t stop talking about it. You know how she can get. She loves you. She’s worried. You heard me, right? You can stay with us? For as long as you need.”
Vito is barking up a storm. I can hear Margaret’s voice. “Kiss you and hug you,” I tell Meg. “Hug your mom. I love your mom.”
“She never even uses her sewing room.”
“I’m fine. See you soon,” I say.
* * *
“I’ve never heard of a pixiebell,”
He’s silent. I can hear him breathing. My heart is pounding. I’m too furious to speak. We’re both silent for a long while.
“I may never forgive you,” I finally say. I feel like this might be true.
And then I remember that the pixiebell is still downstairs, and so is Vito. “I gotta go.”
“Tess.” He is asking something of me. Whatever he wants, I can’t give.
“I’ve really got to go.”
I hang up and run so fast down the stairs, it’s lucky I don’t break my neck. But the pixiebell is right there where I left it, slouched but undisturbed.
Jenny and I wait for a peach pie to cool. She wants me to stay with her as long as I want to stay. I don’t exactly have a lot of other options, but I think that’d be hurtful to say. She cuts that pie, finally, and my phone bleeps. Dad has sent me a photo. It’s a picture of a tall guy outside what looks to be a Mexican restaurant. The guy is leaning against a concrete wall, which is painted to look like a desert. The guy has tall hair. Really tall hair.
Jarvis Believed That Even Hair Could Get to Heaven , Dad’s text reads.
But I don’t respond. I don’t respond because all I can see is Dad and Mary sharing a basket of tortilla chips as theydrip salsa on plastic-covered menus and wait for their margaritas to arrive. And I don’t respond because I know that if I were on a plane and the yellow masks popped out from the ceiling, I’d put the oxygen on my kid first. I would. I don’t care what they say.
chapter nine
Amaranthus caudatus : love-lies-bleeding. The seeds of the amaranth, the most important Aztec grain, are ancient. At one time, they were so critical to the culture that each year, a month-long festival celebrated the blue hummingbird god that alighted upon the plant. A huge statue of the god was made from the seeds, and at the end of the festival, everyone was given a piece of the god to eat. In Victorian times, though, the flowers from the love-lies-bleeding plant meant only one thing: hopeless love. Giving them was a declaration that your heart was in over your head.
The pixiebell has not recovered from Vito’s mauling. Two days later, I think it looks worse. It makes it hard to concentrate on what Meg is saying.
“—his house . What’s she doing at his house?”
“Whose house?”
“For God’s sake, Tess! Dillon’s! Who have we been talking about for the last fifteen minutes!”
“So, he’s moved on. Good for him.”
“Don’t you even care ?”
“Remember when we used to wear pajama bottoms to school? We liked it at the time, but looking back, you realize how stupid it looked.”
“Okay, okay. Fine. I shouldn’t care about this more than you do.”
“When he kissed me, I’d be planning my outfit for the next day. I’d be writing my thesis statement for a paper. Dillon and I had the kind of relationship that’s more like trying out a relationship.” I think I hear a car coming down the road. “Hey, can we talk later? I’ve got to go.”
Jenny made an emergency call to Margaret MacKenzie from her class, who is also one of the leading members of the Parrish Island Garden Society. If anyone will know what to do about Pix, it’s her.
“Okay, but it’s weird having you gone,” Meg says. “I miss you! And what your dad is doing . . . My mom won’t stop talking about it. You know how she can get. She loves you. She’s worried. You heard me, right? You can stay with us? For as long as you need.”
Vito is barking up a storm. I can hear Margaret’s voice. “Kiss you and hug you,” I tell Meg. “Hug your mom. I love your mom.”
“She never even uses her sewing room.”
“I’m fine. See you soon,” I say.
* * *
“I’ve never heard of a pixiebell,”
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