chapter 27

ZAVION

Zavion figured out how to get to New Orleans.

The clown brothers had helped him.

“Why’d the bird NOT cross the road?” Skeet said.

“Why?” asked Tavius and Enzo in unison.

“Because it couldn’t swim!” Skeet hooted. “Get it? The street had been flooded with water? And it couldn’t swim?”

“But it could fly,” said Tavius.

“Yeah, birdbrain,” said Enzo.

Zavion had been making bread at the time. He was on the thirty-sixth knead when Skeet told his joke, and he had laughed out loud, almost losing count.

“Count me in for a piece of that bread,” said Tavius. “Honey oat with a heaping spoonful of guffaw!”

“Food for the heart,” said Enzo.

“Food for the soul,” echoed Skeet.

As Zavion folded and pushed and turned and folded the dough, he laughed again, thinking about the bird joke. He liked the clown brothers.

Why’d the bird NOT cross the road?

Ha!

Aha!

Birds! The bird lady. Diana. She went to New Orleans all the time. Maybe he could hitch a ride with her.

The marble on the windowsill was a good idea. Zavion had slept a little better. And now he had the first idea for his plan.

—

Osprey ran into the kitchen, flying a green Converse sneaker on her leash like a kite. The sneaker bounced on its heel on the floor and hit Ms. Cyn’s leg. Two mugs slipped from her hands.

—

The sound of ceramic shattering.

The smell of coffee splattering against the cupboard.

The crash rattled something in the back of Zavion’s brain.

All of a sudden, Zavion couldn’t breathe.

He was underwater.

He gasped.

“I’m sorry—”

Zavion didn’t know if he said those words out loud or not.

—

“Lordy, child—” Was Ms. Cyn talking to Zavion or Osprey?

Zavion snapped back. He waited for her to add You scared the living pee out of me, but she didn’t this time.

“Coffee down,” said Enzo.

“That’ll keep the snakes away,” said Tavius.

“Hush, you,” said Ms. Cyn. She wiped coffee off the cupboard.

Zavion picked up pieces of the broken mugs.

“Osprey,” said Enzo, “you need to be more careful.”

“Watch out, Osprey,” said Skeet, “he’s going all father-figure on you.”

“I am her father,” said Enzo. He hugged Osprey, who squirmed in his arms.

“Poor kid,” said Tavius.

Osprey broke free from Enzo and ran around the kitchen table.

“Poor father,” said Zavion.

The clowns laughed.

Zavion had told a joke that made them laugh.

Enzo stood up. “Let me help, Ms. Cyn,” he said. Osprey ran a lap around him.

“You’ve got your hands full,” she said.

Zavion straightened up, his own hands full of shards of ceramic mug. “I can take Osprey for a walk,” he said.

He wasn’t sure why he offered.

Osprey stopped running. “We can take Green for a walk,” she said.

“Green?” asked Tavius.

“My dog,” she said, pointing to the sneaker.

“Cute pup,” said Skeet.

Enzo blinked his eyes a few times fast. Tavius and Skeet immediately threw their arms around him. Zavion remembered that their real dog, Crow, had died in the hurricane. He felt a wave of sadness for Enzo.

“I used to babysit at home,” offered Zavion again.

“Go on,” said Ms. Cyn. She rinsed her dish towel in the sink. “Get on out of here so I can clean up.”

“You?” said Tavius.

“Clean?” said Skeet.

“The kitchen?” said Enzo, grinning. To Zavion, he said, “Thank you.”

—

Osprey stopped at the corner.

For someone with such short legs, she was fast.

“This way,” said Zavion. It had occurred to him as they began their walk that he could investigate the bird lady while they were at it. He was pretty sure he knew the way to her house.

“Nope,” said Osprey. She turned in the opposite direction and began skipping down the block. “Sorry, Zavion,” she sang over her shoulder. “Green is dragging me this way.”

Zavion jogged down the block after her. “Hey! Hold up—”

But Osprey only sped up. “Green!” she yelled. “You know how dogs are—” Her voice was hard to hear now. She was so far ahead of him.

Zavion caught up to her and grabbed the leash. “Whoa,” he said, playing along. “C’mon now, Green. Ease up.”

Osprey giggled and stopped running. Then she flopped onto the sidewalk. “Green’s tired. He needs to rest.”

Zavion was tired too. He sat down next to Osprey.

“What am I going to do with you?” he said.

Osprey scooped Green into her lap and rocked the shoe. Osprey reminded Zavion of Mama all of a sudden. He didn’t want to remember Mama right now. Right here. For the second time that day, sadness washed over him like a wave.

The wave must have gotten Osprey wet too because she said, “I love Green, but I loved Crow just a little bit more.” She turned to Zavion, her eyes wide. “Is that okay to say?”

“Oh, yes,” said Zavion. “That makes sense.” He reached out and patted Green. “Green is great, but Crow—I bet he was amazing.”

Osprey nodded. “He was. Uncle Skeet gave him to me. When Mama was just getting sick. He was a puppy when I got him, but a big puppy! And he would sit on my lap! Uncle Skeet hauled him off me the first time he plopped down, but I kind of liked it. I kind of liked it a lot.”

“You did?”

“Uh-huh.”

“He didn’t knock the breath out of you?”

Osprey giggled again. “A little. But I liked it. I told Uncle Skeet I liked it. He told me Crow must have thought his job was to make sure I didn’t float away.”

“I bet you didn’t, under all that dog,” he said.

“Nope.” Osprey leaned in toward Zavion. “But you want to know a secret?”

Zavion nodded.

“Dogs are a magic. Sometimes Crow would sit next to me, and only his tail was on my lap. And I still didn’t float away.” Osprey’s face looked so serious. “Uncle Skeet told me that anyone whose Mama floated up into heaven needed a dog to keep her from floating up too.” Osprey hugged Green to her chest. “But Uncle Skeet and me—we forgot that Crow needed a cat—”

Zavion was puzzled. “A cat?”

Osprey nodded. “To keep him from floating away.”

—

Another wave, and another and another. Zavion stood up so he wouldn’t get so wet and took Osprey’s hand and pulled her up too. As they walked down the block, Zavion thought about how he wanted a dog now. He wanted Mama to have a dog. He wanted every single person in New Orleans to have a dog, and their dog a cat, and the cat a rat, so that they all could stop floating away—

Zavion wondered if a mountain could keep a person from floating away too.

He believed it could.

A van was parked in the driveway of a blue house in the middle of the street. Birdcages were littered all around it. They were all empty. He walked down the driveway.

“This must be it. ‘Diana’s Parrot Rescue,’ ” he read off the side of the van. He stood still for a moment, not sure what he should do.

“Look at what I taught Green!” Osprey sang out.

“Shhhhhhhhh,” said Zavion, rushing back to her.

“Watch!” She ran down the driveway, dropped her leash, and then ran back to Zavion. She pulled a peanut out of her pocket and threw it at the sneaker. “Fetch, Green!” The peanut landed next to Green, on the driveway. “He’s still learning,” she said.

Zavion walked tentatively toward Osprey and then continued inside the garage. “Wow—it’s like a bird arcade in here.” More cages were stacked inside, all of them filled with birds. Parrots, macaws, cockatoos, cockatiels, parakeets—there must have been fifty birds altogether. Zavion knelt in front of a cage and put out his finger. A green bird snapped at it. “Okay, boy. Easy does it. I won’t bother you, okay?”

Zavion walked out of the garage and straight up to an open window around the side of the house. He cupped his hands around his eyes and peered in. “Wow,” he whispered. “There are birds everywhere.”

Besides the birds, a person was sleeping on a couch. Two other people were awake. A woman was sitting in a chair, and a man was on a sleeping bag on the floor.

“When are we going back in?” said the man. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

“Two hours,” said the woman.

A parrot squawked from inside the garage. The sound was low and gravelly, like it was clearing something from his throat.

And there was another sound.

Also gravelly. Truly gravelly. Like something was actually being dragged across a gravel driveway. Like a green sneaker. He had forgotten for a moment that Osprey was with him. He ran to join her.

“You know what we should do, Osprey?” He put his hand on her shoulder to guide her down the driveway. He didn’t want her stopping to throw a peanut.

“What?”

“We should get Green a sock so that he has something to keep him from floating away.”

Osprey started running down the street. “Floating like this?” she called over her shoulder.

“That’s more like running,” Zavion said to himself before taking off after her. He hadn’t done it in a long time but his leg muscles remembered how. “Yes, like that,” he yelled.

And then he followed Osprey and her running, floating dog.

—

When they got back to the house, Ms. Cyn was sitting in the living room knitting her endless scarf.

“Zavion, honey,” she said. She pulled a five-dollar bill out of her pocket. “Here.” Zavion said no, but Ms. Cyn insisted. “You did Enzo a big favor,” she said. “And I can tell Osprey had a good time. Good times are worth a lot these days. More than this. But it’s what I’ve got and I want you to have it.” She pressed the crisp bill into Zavion’s hand.

And like that, Zavion had not only figured out how he was going to get to New Orleans, but how he was going to pay back Luna Market for the chocolate bars too.

He had a plan.

He had money.

He had two hours.

—

Zavion walked to the end of the block and turned the corner. He hitched Tavius’s backpack higher on his shoulder. Tavius had been nice to let Zavion borrow it.

For a long walk, Zavion had said. Papa had been busy painting his slate roof shingles and barely looked up when Zavion told him he was going out.

Zavion had paused for a moment, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He had stared at Papa, his fingers gripping the small paintbrush, so intent on making such small lines. Papa’s hand shook as he painted a green vertical stripe, maybe a stalk of grass, maybe a stem of a flower. He put the paintbrush down, massaged his hand, and picked it right up again.

Papa was determined.

Zavion was determined too.

—

Clouds hung in the sky, but just lazy and lounging, no threat of rain. The bread he had packed for his snack jostled inside and clunked him on his back. He put his hand in his pocket and felt the marble. He put his other hand in his other pocket and felt the five-dollar bill. He had left a note for Papa, he had food, he had money, he had a magic marble.

He was ready.

The van was still parked in the driveway. Good. That was good. He could hear the chatter of the birds in the garage all the way from the street. Zavion strained his ears to hear.

Go, go, go, go.

Did Zavion really want to go through with this? He could turn around. He could walk back to Skeet’s house. He could try to forget about the chocolate bars.

But he knew he couldn’t forget.

The rows of rooftops sticking out of the water like alligator heads. People stuck, stranded on those monstrous heads. Screaming for help.

Zavion couldn’t forget any of it.

A breeze blew in and Zavion glanced at the sky. Please no wind, please no rain. He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think he had much time to spare. Diana would come outside soon. He had to walk down the driveway now or never. The breeze got bored and left just as quickly as it came.

A bird squawked louder than the others, from somewhere in the garage.

Go!

“Okay, then,” Zavion said to the birds.

He snuck a look back up at the sky. Did it look a darker shade of blue? A gray shade of blue? If I get to New Orleans, he thought, the words ricocheting against the inside of his skull then the sky will brighten up, it will turn back to blue—

A door slammed.

“No! No no no no no—” Zavion spit the pinball words out loud.

He could not get caught.

He could not go back.

Zavion switched gears. He stopped thinking and began to move. Someone had put two birdcages just outside the door to the house and gone back inside.

Zavion ran to the van. He tried the handle. The door slid open. Piles of blankets were on the floor. A cardboard box filled with flashlights sat in one corner. There were feathers everywhere. Zavion buried himself under a green blanket, and slid the door shut.

He poked his head back out. He could feel the static electricity in his hair.

“Not bad. I could pass for junk,” he said to himself. The same bird from the garage squawked and set off a chorus of beaked chatter. “The birds agree.”

The door to the house slammed again.

A woman was walking toward his side of the van. Zavion wedged himself between a cage and the sidewall. He breathed in. The banket smelled like a wet dog.

The driver’s side door opened, and he heard someone put something on the passenger seat. Then the door closed again.

Zavion flattened his body against the floor. Something metal was digging into his rib. He reached his hand under the blanket and pulled out an ax. Oh, what was he doing? He took a deep breath and tried to settle himself more comfortably on his side. His nose caught a whiff of something different than the wet dog smell. Chocolate? Caramel? He hoped his stomach wouldn’t rumble and give him away. He sneezed.

Oh boy oh boy oh boy—

Voices came close and then closer. The back door to the van opened.

Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy—

“Do we have enough cages?”

“It’s all we can fit.”

The pinging sound of metal hitting metal rang in Zavion’s ears. He felt a cage hit the bottom of his sneaker.

“Do you think the guards will let us through the checkpoint this time?”

Oh boy.

They were going to New Orleans. Zavion was going to New Orleans.

Now.

“Probably. And if they don’t, I already put the rest of the brownies in the front seat.”

“Good thinking.”

“None of them are getting any home cooking right about now. Come to think of it, I should have made a whole meal.”

“Uh, Ma—your cooking isn’t all that good—”

“Oh hush.” And then the door slammed.

Zavion’s plan was unfolding. The opposite of kneading bread, it was unfolding, turning and unfolding some more. He fought an urge to yank the blanket off his body. He wanted to stack the cages, throw the blanket over them, and sit on the very top. He thought he would be braver about going back to New Orleans if he could travel by mountain, not by van.

The two front doors opened, and the woman and her son got inside.

“We shouldn’t wake Dr. Burke?” the son asked.

“No, let her sleep. She was up all night tending to the birds. And she’ll have more to take care of when we come home.” The woman started the van. “Are you ready?” she said to her son. The tires crunched down the driveway.

I’m ready, thought Zavion.