Caterpillar Summer, page 3
They looked at Chicken, who made blub, blub, blub sounds as he motored french fry boats through the hot sauce lake.
Mom put the phone back in her bag. “We’ll see them in a few hours. Probably she’s saying how excited she is to see you two.” She patted Chicken on the head. He beamed at her.
They boarded the second flight. Chicken took the window seat and Cat was in the middle. As soon as they got in the air, Mom reclined her seat and closed her eyes.
“A million puffy clouds!” sang Chicken. He glanced at Mom. “Let’s show her.”
Cat shook her head. Mom needed sleep. “Maybe later. Shark show?”
“All right,” he said, taking the tablet from her.
Cat had her book but was too excited to read. Silent sharks flickered on Chicken’s screen as the sky turned from pink to purple to black.
When the plane started descending, Mom stirred in her seat. Cat nudged Chicken and handed him a blue raspberry lollipop. He accepted it and turned back to the window.
“Don’t put your face on the glass,” Cat said.
Chicken shot a look over his shoulder. “It’s not glass. It’s acrylic.”
“You know what I mean,” Cat said.
He popped the lollipop into his mouth. “Look at the lights!”
Mom squinted. “Look at the traffic.”
Red brake lights and white headlights filled every inch of the road below. The plane lowered, but Cat’s heart kept the clouds company. She was so close to seeing her friend.
“One of those cars has Rishi,” said Chicken. “And Manjula and Sandeep, right?”
“Of course,” said Cat. “Rishi can’t drive himself.”
Chicken twirled the lollipop in his mouth. “I’m going to play sharks with Rishi. He’s my best friend.”
Jealousy crackled inside her. Rishi was her friend. She didn’t want Chicken claiming Rishi every day in endless shark games.
But maybe that wasn’t fair. Rishi was Cat’s friend first, but Chicken wasn’t wrong about Rishi being his friend, too. He was friends with everyone. That was the whole point of Rishi.
They’d be in Atlanta for three weeks. There would be plenty of time for Chicken to play with Rishi, and time for Cat and Rishi to hang out together, too. Vacation meant there’d be enough time with everyone—even Mom.
The plane lowered farther.
Chicken’s eyes widened and he grabbed her arm. “We’re still going so fast.”
The landing in Atlanta was rougher than it had been in Chicago. Cat’s insides pulled forward and then settled as the plane slowed.
“Whew!” Chicken said loudly, making the people around them laugh.
People in the front rows filed off the plane. Chicken looked out his window, describing the trucks with blinking lights.
Cat pulled her backpack from under the seat in front of her. “Chicken, get your bag.”
“In a minute,” said Chicken. “I’m watching for our suitcases.”
Cat leaned over and tugged at his backpack, which was tangled under the seat. He allowed her to put it on his shoulders, but didn’t take his eyes off the window.
Finally, it was their turn. Mom stood. “Come on, Chicken.”
He didn’t budge. Cat put her hand on his shoulder.
He shrugged her off. “I’m watching the guys!”
Cat took a deep breath. “There’s more guys inside, okay? Really cool ones.”
Chicken wasn’t having it. “I don’t want to see inside guys.”
Cat leaned down and talked close to his ear. “Guess what I heard. The whole aisle is hot lava and you have to hop from one island to the next. Help me, Chicken—I don’t want to fall in.”
He giggled and took big steps off the plane and down the Jetway. Cat and Mom had to hurry to keep up. But his burst of energy ran out. As soon as they stepped into the terminal, he sank to the floor. People with bulky suitcases streamed around them.
He looked up at Cat. “No lava.”
“Chicken, stand up,” said Cat.
He kicked off his shoes.
“No, sir,” Mom said, bending to gather them. No, sir was one of those Southern expressions Mom used when Chicken stepped way out of line. Southern people got more polite when they were mad. It didn’t make any sense.
He sprawled on the floor. A man grunted as he sidestepped, almost bumping Chicken with a suitcase. A woman whispered about spoiled children. Cat’s face warmed.
Mom lifted Chicken to standing and half carried him from the walkway. “You’re going to get stepped on if you aren’t careful.”
This was fair, but Chicken wasn’t in the mood for fairness. His face crumpled in slow motion. He leaned back his head and screamed. The terminal echoed with it. Mom started doing deep breath exercises, moving her lips silently. Probably counting to fifty.
Chicken walked in tight circles, flapping his hands. The more riled up he got, the harder it was for him to calm down. If they waited for Mom to get to fifty, Chicken could be at five hundred. Cat searched his bag.
“Chicken,” said Cat. “When you’re done, I’ll show you something.”
On the outside she pretended to be calm, even though her insides jangled. If she acted patient and steady, Chicken would come around.
She pulled out the photo album, the one they called the Big Blue Book. Chicken loved their family pictures.
Turning pages, she watched him from the corner of her eye. By the fourth page he sat next to her. On the sixth page, he leaned his head against her shoulder. When she handed him the shark, he put it in his mouth.
The pictures weren’t in time order. A picture of Daddy and Mom in college was next to one of Cat and Chicken last year, holding plastic Halloween pumpkins. Cat liked the pictures mixed up because Daddy was right next to them, not frozen in the time four years ago.
When she got to the end, she started over. They looked at pictures until Chicken’s breath steadied.
She made her voice sweet as blue raspberry. “At the baggage claim, we’ll look at the Big Blue Book some more. Good idea?”
Chicken nodded and held out his arms for Mom. She lifted him and gave Cat a grateful nod. Teamwork. Cat scooped up Chicken’s backpack and Mom’s bag. The load was heavy, but Cat was strong.
When they reached the escalator, Mom leaned toward Cat. “Glad you remembered to pack the book. Thank you.”
Mom hoisted Chicken higher. He wasn’t easy to carry, even for someone as tall as Mom. His dangling feet hit Mom’s legs as she walked. Cat tried to remember the feeling of being carried. She couldn’t.
When they reached the baggage claim, Cat scanned for Rishi, but he wasn’t there.
Mom saw her disappointment. “Probably stuck in traffic.”
Cat dropped the bags into an empty seat and pulled out the Big Blue Book. Mom transferred Chicken to Cat’s lap.
All his tension had drained. He snuggled in her lap, rubbing the shark’s fins with his little fingers. He tried to talk through the big yawn that quivered his body. “More pictures.”
She opened the book again but his eyes were already half-closed. He let out a big sigh and fell asleep in her arms. Cat gently set the book on the seat beside them.
She craned her neck to look around. Still no Rishi. Luggage tottered down the ramp and slid onto the carousel. Mom returned with their things. She dug in a suitcase pocket and pulled out a charger, then crossed to an area with outlets and plugged in the phone. Chicken startled in his sleep, arms flying, nearly punching Cat’s face.
“Shh,” she murmured.
It had been a long day. She felt tired down to her toes. But nothing could hold down her heart, which floated in zero gravity. She was going to see her friend, and it was going to be the best summer ever.
Mom returned. “We’ve had a change in plans.”
Cat yawned. She moved her head so she could see—still no Rishi. “Are they almost here?”
Mom sat. “Manjula got some bad news late last night. Her mom had a stroke and is in the hospital.”
“Oh, no!” Cat’s eyes widened. Manjula must be sad and scared. Cat remembered the day they got the bad news about Daddy. Everything inside her pressed together and sadness rushed in. She shook her head to clear it. “So what does that mean?”
Mom sighed. “It means Manjula, Sandeep, and Rishi are on their way to India.”
Cat finally understood. The Krishnamurthys weren’t driving to meet them. They weren’t even in the state. Instead, they were on their way across the world.
“So our vacation is pushed back a couple days,” Cat said, trying to stay calm. “They’ll be back before we know it.”
Mom looked at her patiently. “They haven’t been to India in so long—Rishi has cousins he’s never met. They’ll be a few weeks, maybe a month.”
Cat’s heart smashed down to Earth so fast and hard, she could picture the shape of the crater it left.
“A month?” It came out louder than she had meant it. “What about us?”
Mom frowned. “Cat, they need to be with their family.”
“We’re family, too,” Cat said. Hot tears sprang up in her eyes. It was unfair. They were stuck, thousands of miles from home—for nothing.
“Cat . . .” Mom’s eyes were pleading.
Cat wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Is this what the voicemails were about? You should have charged your phone.”
Mom drew back, and Cat knew she had hurt her. But Mom should be more like other grown-ups. If they had found out before leaving San Francisco, they wouldn’t be in this mess.
Chicken, in his sleep, whispered, “Plankton.”
Mom pressed her fingertips against her eyelids. “We’ll have to find a babysitter.”
Did Mom think they could find a babysitter in two days? Even if they’d had notice, most regular babysitters couldn’t handle Chicken. Cat would rather handle him herself.
“No way,” she said.
Mom looked at her. Cat didn’t have to say why it would never work, because Mom knew.
“I’m brainstorming. We’re stuck and I don’t know what to do.” Mom bit her lip. “How about a sleepaway camp? That would be fun.”
Sometimes Mom was unrealistic. Chicken couldn’t handle the after-care program at school and somehow she thought he could manage three weeks of summer camp?
“I’ll watch him at the Krishnamurthys’ house,” Cat said flatly.
Mom paused like she was thinking it over. Then she shook her head. “You do a good job watching him after school. But I’ll be working all day, and some nights. I can’t leave you in a place you don’t know.”
“Can you cancel the class? Let’s go home.” If she were going to have the same old summer, at least she could have it in their own apartment. She could even let herself imagine a trip to Toy Boat with Poppy Zhang.
Mom twisted the charging cord around her fingers. “I wish I could, but I can’t cancel the class. Some things are set in stone.” Her frown deepened. Chicken sighed in his sleep.
“I don’t want a camp or a babysitter,” Cat warned.
Mom took a deep breath, like she had decided something. “I have an idea. Wait here.”
She stood and walked to the corner with the plugs, and faced the windows.
Cat bit the insides of her cheeks. Sometimes she wished she could be like Chicken. He wasn’t bothered by what others thought. She wanted to scream and cry, too.
Mom was back, fiddling with the phone like she was nervous. “New plan. You’ll stay with your grandparents.”
Cat’s grandparents lived in St. Louis. She wouldn’t mind visiting them. Maybe they could go to a Cardinals game. But St. Louis wasn’t exactly next door to Atlanta.
“We’re going to see Granny and Pop?” Cat asked.
“Not Daddy’s parents,” Mom said grimly. “Mine. In North Carolina.”
Mom’s parents? Mom’s parents? In North Carolina? Cat frowned. She didn’t know Mom’s parents, she had never even met them. Cat had quit asking because Mom met every question with a tight-lipped smile and vague answers. But now she and her brother were going to spend three weeks with them. Cat didn’t know what Mom was thinking.
Mom nudged Chicken out of sleep. His eyes opened halfway and he smiled a loopy grin, reaching up to her. Mom lifted him to her shoulder and grabbed a wheeled suitcase.
“But Mom,” Cat started.
Mom didn’t listen. She nodded toward an exit. “We’ll get a car out there.”
Cat hurried to keep up, lugging the bags with her. The feeling of being a team with Mom was gone. Mom was in charge and she was stuck on her plan.
Cat wondered, again, what happened to make Mom stop talking to her parents. It must have been terrible. But then again, Mom was willing to drop Cat and Chicken with them. Would she do that if she really thought her parents were so bad?
Cat wondered if they had Southern accents, like the one that popped out when Mom got mad. They must know about Cat and her brother, but how much did they know about Chicken? Did they know about the meltdowns?
Fully awake, Chicken peered over Mom’s shoulder, eyes round and serious. He didn’t know what was ahead, and neither did Cat. But she would keep him safe, no matter what happened. That’s what sisters were for.
On the new scale of vacation disasters, the morning had only registered slightly. Chicken cried about missing Rishi’s family and the whale sharks at the Georgia Aquarium. It was a sad morning and a quiet car ride.
But after lunch, Cat’s disappointment had been pushed aside by a squirmy feeling. Last night, she felt shocked that Mom would leave them with grandparents they’d never met. On the drive, shock had turned to nervousness. They would be there in a couple hours.
She popped open flaming hot cheese crackers and handed them to Chicken. Chicken read his shark book while he ate, leaving a trail of orange fingerprints on each page.
“Mom,” said Cat. “This place is weird.”
Mom laughed a tiny bit. “What do you mean?”
Cat gestured out the window. “Trees, trees, trees. I never knew there were so many shades of green.”
“Deciduous,” said Chicken, eyes still on his book.
“It’s nice to see trees. We’re driving through a forest, you know.” Mom sounded amused.
“Evergreen,” Chicken mumbled.
“Trees are fine—nothing but trees is weird,” said Cat. “It’s been like this for hours. No houses. No businesses. Even that chicken sandwich place at lunch—I couldn’t see it from the freeway. For all I know, you’re driving us in a big circle.”
“Highway, not freeway,” said Mom. “And ‘that chicken place’ was one of my four major food groups growing up.”
“At the chicken place, that lady asked if you were our mom,” said Chicken. He turned a page, not looking up.
Mom glanced at Chicken in the rearview mirror. “Yes, she did.”
“I know why it happened,” said Chicken. “It’s because our skin is different colors.”
“Yes, baby, that’s right. But we’re all part of the same family.” It was the same line Mom had said since Cat could remember.
Chicken traced a life-size picture of a megalodon tooth. He didn’t answer.
Cat tried to find a position where the seat belt wouldn’t rub her neck. “Do your parents live in the woods?”
“No,” said Mom. “They live on an island.”
“An island!” said Cat. She hadn’t pictured that at all.
Chicken looked up for this. “By the actual ocean? With sharks?”
Mom smiled. “Yes to both. An actual island in an actual ocean—Gingerbread Island.”
“Gingerbread Island? Are you serious?” Cat pictured a gumdrop-covered house by a sea of frosting.
“Not the gingerbread you eat. Gingerbread is the name for the carving and scrollwork that decorated the hulls of pirate ships,” said Mom.
Cat scowled. It was not the time for silliness. “Pirate ships? Mom. Stop.”
Mom laughed again. “I’m serious. A long time ago, there were pirates everywhere on the North Carolina coast. Your grandfather could tell you the stories.”
Chicken muttered, “Cookiecutter, blacktip reef, whitetip reef, tiger, lemon, whale, hammerhead, cookiecutter, sharpnose—”
“You said ‘cookiecutter’ twice,” Cat pointed out.
“It’s one of my favorites,” said Chicken happily. “The cookiecutter shark is part of the dogfish family and loves warm water. It takes circular bites out of its prey so it looks like a cookie cutter has been pushed into the other fish all over. It likes a snack,” he chortled. He held up his book, which showed a fish attacked by a cookiecutter shark. The fish was missing neat round circles of flesh.
“I don’t think the fish finds it funny,” said Cat.
“Sharpnose sevengill, cookiecutter, great white, dwarf lantern, nurse, goblin, cookiecutter, basking.” Chicken was back in his own world.
“Mom, what do we call them?” Cat asked. Her dad’s parents were Granny and Pop, names given from Cat’s older cousins when they were babies. She definitely couldn’t call Mom’s parents Granny and Pop.
“Your grandparents? How about ‘Grandma’ and ‘Grandpa’?”
It would be weird to call strangers by grandparent names. “What are their real names?”
Mom couldn’t get the car’s sun visor right. She muttered under her breath and adjusted it until it clicked. Then, louder, she said, “Their names are Macon and Lily Stone.”
“Macon and Lily,” Cat repeated. “I guess that’s better than Mr. and Mrs. Stone.”
“Doctor and Mrs. Stone,” said Mom, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “He was a doctor. A surgeon.”
“A surgeon!” said Cat. She never would have imagined a doctor—not when Mom about passed out every time Cat or Chicken got a skinned knee. “What are they like?”
“Mom is sweet, she’s excited to see you. Dad won’t be around much, I’m sure.” The road curved past a field of purple wildflowers.
Cat wished Mom would say what she meant. Cat knew nothing about these people and yet she was supposed to spend weeks there without complaining.
“What’s the deal anyway? Why don’t you ever talk about them? Why don’t you ever talk to them?” Cat asked.
