Serendipity and Me (9781101602805) (14 page)

 

I make my hands like a leash

around Serendipity's tummy

lean over and let her feel

the grass under her toes.

 

I'm planning my search

as we make our way

slowly back to the house.

 

It would be easiest to tell Dad

I need a family picture

 

but I want more than that.

 

I want to see them all.

 

So when he calls out,

I have office hours.

See you at five thirty.

Mrs. Whittier is on standby,

I make my move

at the sound of the door closing.

 

His room is his sanctuary

so I start there

in the forest green gloom.

I search under the unmade bed

in his messy drawers

in his closet that twangs

with unused hangers

 

and behind the abandoned tennis racquets

I find the box stashed way in back.

 

Treasure.

 

 

 

My hands start to shake

so I can barely lift the box.

I take it back to my room.

I don't want to be caught

with the rose-covered box

in his dark room.

 

I close my door.

I lift the lid.

I start to cry.

 

We were a family once.

Here is the proof I remember—

Mom with a garland of flowers in her hair

gazing up at Dad
in their wedding photo.

Sun-soft Mom cradling baby me.

Bright-eyed Dad with toddler me

on his shoulders.

So many smiles.

 

I can't stop looking.

 

I hear Dad come into the house.

My alibi is ready.

I needed it for school.

 

But he doesn't come to my room.

 

I decide I will hide the box here

so I can keep looking.

 

 

 

Dad has dinner ready

soon after he gets home.

 

When he calls

I pluck out one picture

and shove the box

in my closet

 

almost a mirror

of where he'd hidden it.

 

I hear a bump behind me

and back out quick

heart thumping

 

but it was only Serendipity

knocking three paperbacks

off my bookshelf.

 

I slip the picture

into my social studies book.

 

King Tut looks at me

from the cover

slyly keeping mum.

 

Our family is finally

out of the box

 

ready to see the world.

 

 

 

I open a new milk jug

to pour our drinks for dinner.

 

The plastic ring that sealed the lid

pops off and rolls on the ground

 

a sudden thrill for Serendipity.

 

She chases

she pounces

she swats and sends it flying.

She races

she bounces

she puts on a tumbling show.

 

After a while she calms down

picks up the circle in her teeth

and carries it off.

 

I look at Dad

to see his reaction.

 

He has just turned back to the stove

but not quickly enough to hide it:

 

a tiny grin tilting

the corner of his mouth.

 

 

 

Dad puts the pot of tomato soup

in the middle of the table

with a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches.

 

While he ladles the soup into our bowls

I consider.

I'm torn between asking

once and for all

why no cats are allowed

 

torn between that

and getting Dad to fall in love

with Serendipity.

 

I decide it's smarter

to go with love.

 

Serendipity is intrigued

by the smell of cheese

and jumps onto an empty chair

then onto the table.

 

Plan already foiled.

 

Dad stands to grab the kitten

but she freaks at his sudden move

and tears off the table

and out of the room.

 

Dad just looks at me

 

and shakes his head.

 

 

 

Luckily it's my turn

to do the dishes.

 

I'm right near the phone when it rings.

 

The voice is tentative.

You don't by any chance

have a kitten

you're trying to get rid of,

do you?

 

I'm not lying when I say No.

 

Sorry.           I saw this flyer and called

and the number on it was wrong

and I thought maybe I saw where

the mistake was. . . .

 

She apologizes again

and I say it's all right.

 

But it's not.

 

What if someone else

is smart enough to figure it out

and Dad answers?

 

Dad calls from his study.

Who was that?

 

Just Taylor,
I lie.

 

 

 

Bedtime has become

much more fun

since Serendipity arrived.

 

She thinks my feet

are small animals

burrowing under the covers

like moles under the lawn.

 

It is her job

to stop the moles

to pounce on the moles

to wrestle the moles

until

they are too afraid

to move.

 

She does her job well.

 

 

 

Miss Conglin tells us to put our photos

at the top of our desks.

Before we start writing

she lets us walk around

and see everyone else's pictures.

 

Garrett's family must like camping.

He and his little sisters and parents

are messing around in front of a tent.

 

Walking further

I see I am not the only one

with a broken family.

 

I forgot how Breanna lives alone

with her grandmother.

 

Giselle's pictures

show two different houses

her mom in one

her dad in the other.

 

Jaime has a shot

of him and his dad

before his dad was deported.

 

I guess all families

have some kind of story.