A Net Is There

On a Friday morning in mid-April, Veronica’s mother burst into her daughter’s room.

“Lovey, wake up. Hurry. I overslept.”

Veronica could barely open one eye, let alone two. She was supposed to be out the door in five minutes and her body felt like lead. It would not cooperate. She could hardly swing her feet over the side of her bed, and when she finally did, they did not want to support her weight. Veronica dressed like a robot that was running out of power. The second she was dressed, her mother pushed her out the front door with a bagel and a paper towel.

If you were late for Morning Meeting, you weren’t let into the auditorium. It was almost the only consequence the school had that resembled shaming. Veronica wanted to hurry, but Fifth Avenue was surprisingly empty of people and peaceful. Thickly scented hyacinth buds were pushing their way open. There was nothing like that smell. Veronica stopped and stuck her nose right into one of the tight purple bundles.

If she stood there all day she bet she would actually see one open all the way like in a stop-motion animation. The daffodils and the tulips would be next to bloom. Several times over the winter bulbs had started to open. (What was a flower to do when the temperature was in the seventies, even in January?) And every time she saw them stick their little heads up, months too early, she wished she could tell them to go back underground. She wished she could warn them that it wasn’t really spring yet, only an illusion of spring due to global warming. Today, though, it was safe. Spring was really here and the flowers would survive.

The doors to the auditorium were already closed when Veronica arrived at school. A small group of other latecomers, led by Mrs. Zarosh, the bookbinding teacher for the high school, were making their own meeting. Veronica sat down next to Mrs. Zarosh and like everyone else she put her hands into the hands of the people on either side of her. Mrs. Zarosh’s hand was warm.

Silent reflection in such a small group was very intimate. Since there was no leader, Veronica thought about last week’s meeting, in which Mrs. Harrison had said, “Each of us is part of the whole.” She remembered Mrs. Harrison telling them to concentrate on their breathing. In. And then out. In and then out. Over and over breathing deeper and deeper until she disappeared into a kind of trance. Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she startled. Standing over her was Athena Mindendorfer.

Images from Sarah-Lisa’s party shuffled through her mind like a deck of cards. She moved over to make room for Athena as the people in the circle had done for her minutes earlier. Athena sat down and took Veronica’s hand.

Veronica couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that she was sitting on the floor holding hands with Athena Mindendorfer. Athena smiled and Veronica smiled back. Her breathing joined Athena’s breath and Mrs. Zarosh’s breath and everyone else’s in the circle. Together they formed a mysterious lullaby. The sun, the stones, the animals, the spirit, and the sparkling stars of Morning Verse came to her mind. No one was really ever completely alone. If you could reach out, there was always a hand to hold, somewhere in the world.

When she got home from school her mother was actually making dinner. She’d had a light day, she said. She was cracking eggs into a bowl to make carbonara. Veronica passed her mother the pepper grinder. “Thank you, lovey,” she said. Her mother twisted it, making pepper fall on their dinner like black snow. “Mrs. Ferguson came over. They’re back from Florida earlier than planned. She says Fitzy is eager to see you. Will you put the salad on the table?”

Veronica lugged the enormous salad bowl to the table. She hadn’t thought of Fitzy for months. Did Fitzy know what had happened to Cadbury?

“Also, I invited Sylvie and her father for Passover dinner. They said they’d love to come.”

Fitzy was back. Veronica didn’t know if she was ready for that.