chapter 81

ZAVION AND HENRY

They made it to the top.

The shiny white rock was jagged. It wasn’t slippery like the gray rock had been.

“What is that?” asked Zavion.

“Quartz,” said Henry.

A thick fog had rolled in and it was hard to see very far ahead, but the boys could place the heels of their shoes against raised pieces of quartz to keep their balance as they climbed up the last bit of the mountain.

A bird sang from a nearby shrub.

“What is that?” asked Zavion.

“A white-throated sparrow,” said Henry. “They sound like chickadees underwater.”

“You’re kidding.”

“They do, though, don’t they?”

The bird sang again.

“Wow, yeah. They’d feel at home in New Orleans right about now.”

They came around a bend and into a clearing. Instantly the trees became shrubs and the dirt gave way to long sheets of rock. The wind whipped through the air. Brae chased it, his ears perked up and his tail held high.

“What is that?” Zavion asked, pointing at the dense, low shrubs off to the side of the trail.

“Tundra,” said Henry. “Cool, huh?”

“That’s how high we are?”

“That’s how high.”

Henry wished they could see farther than a few feet in front of them. Zavion had come all this way and Henry wanted to show him the view.

Zavion walked closer to what he thought was the edge of the mountain, but then he stopped because he couldn’t see far enough in front of his face and he was afraid of falling. He looked down at the ground instead.

“It looks like a marble,” he said.

“What does?” asked Henry.

“The rock. Look at it.”

The rock was swirls of gray and white and even green. It did. It looked like a giant marble.

Henry walked to the center of the largest sheet of rock. He got down on his hands and knees and ran his fingers along its swirling lines.

How had he never noticed that before?

Brae stopped chasing the wind and stood still, his ears perked up high, and then he tore off into the tundra. Zavion took the marble out of his pocket and held it up to the sky. Its blue oceans and green mountains and its very own blazing sun broke through the fog and glowed.

Henry leaned over to look at the marble.

“Maybe this is Louisiana right here,” he said, pointing to a spot of green.

“And this is North Carolina,” said Zavion pointing too.

“So then maybe this is Grandmother Mountain,” said Henry.

“And this is Vermont,” said Zavion.

“And this is Mount Mansfield.”

“And this is its peak.”

“And this is—” Brae barked and Henry turned his head. “Jeezum Crow—”

“What?” said Zavion, turning to look where Henry was staring.

“Tiger,” Henry whispered. Brae lay in the tundra, and walking back and forth under his chin was a small striped cat. Henry stared at Tiger, who finally saw him and stared back, his yellow eyes piercing Henry’s. He sauntered over to Henry and Zavion. Henry dropped to his knees as if the whole sky had just pushed against his shoulders.

“Nopie was right,” Henry whispered. “Tiger’s been looking for Wayne.”