Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere (34 page)

“I won't,” I said more to myself than her. I hoped she'd hurry back.

“We can do this, Armani. We'll do it together.” Matthew let out a poof of air that blew his bangs out of his eyes.

We'd been standing there in the same spot for at least five minutes. I wanted to find out if Mr. Pete knew anything, but I didn't wanna know all at the same time.

“Thanks, Matthew. I don't think I could go in there without you.”

I held onto the locket and stared at the knob on that half-red door with the waterline almost to the top, and knew it was time. A little flutter started in the bottom of my belly.

I closed my eyes and imagined the smells that were always waiting on the other side of that door. The thought of warm doughnuts spread through me. I was ready to cross the road. I took hold of Matthew Boman's hand, hugged my brother's glasses to my heart, and headed for the door.

I stopped walking. Matthew stopped too.

I'd never felt the feeling of hope so strong and real in my whole entire life. That new familiar knowin' all but swept me off my shaky feet. A smile took hold on my face.

“What?” Matthew said, staring at me all crazy.

A giggle snuck past my lips. A little bounce found my feet. “That bench! It's our porch swing! Me an' Memaw's—well, really it's Mama's. But whatever. It's
our
swing! I know it is!” If the swing was there, then Daddy had to be too.

“You sure? It looks new.”

I let loose of Matthew's hand. I stepped up next to the chair that my PawPaw had built with his own two hands. My finger found one of the grooves I'd been tracing my whole life. The porch swing was painted new and white, but the names were still there—just like always. The storm couldn't take them names away.

“Daddy finally painted it. . . .” The words came out in a choked-up cry. I squeezed my eyes shut. My insides felt tore in half. I didn't know I could be so happy and sad at the same time. The feeling of a person
not being there is way stronger than when a person is there. I knew Daddy would be waiting for me up inside that shop, but seeing that pretty white swing reminded me that I'd never sit on it again with Memaw—never.

“You ready to go inside?” Matthew whispered.

I wiped my nose across the top of my sleeve, forgetting altogether that it wasn't polite, especially in front of a boy. I took hold of Matthew's hand again and forced a smile the best I could.

I turned the rough, rusty doorknob. It had never felt scratchy like that before. The door creaked opened like there was sand in the hinges. I pushed a little harder on it, and reminded myself to breathe.

“Hello?” I whispered. My heart raced almost as fast as my brain. The door finally swung all the way open with a stale whoosh, not the happy ding of the bell like always. I right away knew it wasn't the smell of doughnuts burning my nose.

I stood where I was, afraid to take one step into the gutted-out-looking insides of what was supposed to be Mr. Pete's doughnut shop. I fought the urge to run outside and check to make sure—maybe it
wasn't
the right building. My lip started to tremble and the tears were coming on.

There was no way Daddy or anybody else could be up inside that place. There wasn't no lights on, but I could still tell that the orangey-colored floor tile was gone. There was nothing there but cold-looking concrete.

The sound of loud, clunky fans filled the air.

And the smell. The smell was so strong I could
taste
it. A mix of old rain, bleach, mothballs, and canal. Stinking canal.

“Nobody's here.”

No sooner did I get the words out of my mouth when a man's voice from somewhere inside the shop hollered out, “Hello? Is someone there?”

I knew that voice!

Matthew real quick hollered back, “Yes, sir! Can we come in?”

“Course ya can, son. What can I do for ya?”

We stepped inside the shop. After blinking a few times, I could see that it wasn't as dark and awful as it looked when I peered in from outside. But it was still bad. The glass case where Mr. Pete showed off the fresh doughnuts was broke to pieces. A big ol' pile of glass and trash had been swept off to the one side. A huge metal table was set up in the middle of the room with tools and cleaners and rags scattered on it. Two big fans blew at the wet-looking walls.

Mr. Pete popped out from back where the doughnut fryers did their doughnut making. His hands were covered in long yellow plastic gloves. He looked at me and smiled big. It was clear as could be that he was happy to see me.

I was bursting from the excitement I was feeling from seeing him. I ran across the dusty concrete and wrapped my arms around his dough-belly.

“Mr. Pete! I'm so happy to see you!” I wouldn't be surprised if I'd left squeeze marks on the poor man, I hugged him so tight. I pulled back and pointed at Matthew. “This is my friend Matthew Boman.” I was smiling so fierce it was beginning to hurt in my jaw.

Matthew and Mr. Pete shook hands.

“It's nice meetin' you, son.” Mr. Pete nodded at Matthew.

“Are you serious? You've never been in here to buy doughnuts?” I was wide-open nervous-rambling at that point. “Well, you don't know what you been missin'. Right, Mr. Pete?” I smiled all big and bounced a couple times on my feet.

I didn't like the way Mr. Pete was looking at Matthew—fidgety and uneasy-like.

“Hey, now,” another man's voice came from behind us. “Is that you, Armani Curtis?”

I whipped around, and there was ol' Mr. Leroy holding a push broom.

“Mr. Leroy!” I didn't even really know that old man, but I knew he was Mr. Pete's helper and I knew he was Daddy's friend. I went and hugged him like we was kin. I was feeling giggly and jittery the way I feel right before a surprise.

“I don't know what we would've done if I hadn't spotted ol' Mr. Frank's bus and recognized your poor messed-up bell, Mr. Pete. But it don't matter now, right? The important thing is we're here!” I sure wished Mr. Pete would've looked as excited as I felt. I figured maybe he was more quiet with his feelings on account of him living by his-self for so long and making doughnuts all day.

“Armani,” Matthew said. “Can you come here?” He motioned with his head for me to come by him. He glanced up at Mr. Pete, and Mr. Pete looked down at the floor.

I stood next to Matthew—still just a-smiling—anticipating the surprise I prayed was coming.

“Leroy,” Mr. Pete said. The older man went to him. Mr. Pete whispered something in his ear. Mr. Leroy looked at me. His head went to hanging and he headed for the red door in the corner—the red door that went up to Mr. Pete's living area. The waterline was clear up by the top. Just like the waterline on the outside of the building.

A shiver ran through me.

Footsteps ran across the floor to Mr. Pete's upstairs. It sure did sound like happy feet causing that ceiling to thump. I looked at Matthew and smiled.

But then I froze. All the good I was feeling drained away. In that one tiny second, I noticed the way Matthew and Mr. Pete were looking at each other. It felt like someone reached in and squeezed my heart with both hands.

I stared at the closed red door in the corner and forced myself to keep breathing. The whirly-hum of the fans got louder and louder.

Come on, Daddy, come on. Please Daddy, open the door
.

Footsteps pounding down the stairs filled my head. A loud thunk bounced off the other side of the door.

The door swung open and Georgie spilled into the room.

“Georgie!” I ran to my brother and fell into him. We stood there hugging and squeezing each other for the longest time.

“I knew you'd come,” Georgie said, not even bothering to wipe the wet mess from his face.

If ever there was a time when I loved my brother more, I don't know when it would've been.

I wiped his glasses the best I could with the bottom of my shirt, then opened them up and slipped them onto his face. He right away took his finger and pushed them up on his nose. Instead of smiling his goofy smile, his eyes fell to the floor.

“Armani,” Georgie said. “There's somethin' . . .” He didn't get to finish his sentence, because just then I looked over and seen TayTay standing in the doorway to the stairs, looking more beautiful than ever.

I ran to her across the dirty, sticky floor—crying happy tears the whole time.

Her hands rubbed my head. She shushed me while she did her own crying. “I'm so sorry, Armani,” she said through her tears.

“You don't have to be sorry,” I said into her neck. “You're safe! You're
alive
. Oh no . . .” I pulled my head off her and wiped my face
with the back of my hand. “Your dad's lookin' for you. We gotta tell him you're here! Maybe Matthew can go find him.” I turned to look at Matthew, but he had his back to me. Him and Georgie and Mr. Pete were up in a huddle talking in whispers.

TayTay took both my hands in hers. She looked me straight on with heavy eyes and a tilt of her head. I slowly shook my head—my eyes never leaving hers. We stared into each other for a good while in a way that only real friends know how. She told me. She told me the truth without ever saying one word out loud.

New tears filled my eyes but didn't fall. Over her shoulder, I stared at the blurry, empty doorway leading to the upstairs. It stayed empty.

I looked back at TayTay and all the tears of knowin' spilled from my eyes.

“
Daddy
 . . .” I barely whispered.

Georgie's arms wrapped around me, catching my fall.

“
Nooooo
 . . .” I moaned.

All my feelings of hope turned to dark and concrete, crushing me from the inside out—shattering my heart into a million trillion pieces.

I let myself be held in all them arms. Then I closed my eyes and waited for angels to come and show me the way.

We sat on the porch swing—the four of us—me and Georgie and TayTay and Matthew. None of us saying a word. Swinging and waiting. Waiting for Miss Priscilla to come pick us up in the SUV.

Georgie was the one who'd painted the swing. He said he did it to surprise Mama after him and Mr. Pete found it almost a mile from where our house had been.

I sat there in my usual spot, with my back pressed up against my own name, and let the sadness settle in. Even with everything that was lost and different, I knew I was home. The storm had come and turned everything I cared about upside down and inside out.

Daddy was gone.

Memaw was gone.

Nothing would ever be the same.

But I was home.

I never did hear the truck pull up. All I seen was Uncle Alvin standing there with the look of thankful spread across his face. TayTay ran to him and got wrapped in his arms.

My own arms ached and the feeling of empty took hold of my chest.

Miss Priscilla stayed over by her open truck door with a hand pressed up by her heart. She looked at me only for a second before she dropped her head.

That's when I felt Matthew get up, leaving me and Georgie to ourselves on Memaw's swing.

I rested my head on Georgie's shoulder and ran my finger in the carved-out first letter of my dead uncle's name. I wondered if he was the uncle who needed to be saved that day in the canal, or if he was the one who died trying to save someone he loved.

“I never got to tell Daddy I was sorry.” I blinked tears from my eyes and tried to take a normal breath.

“It's okay,” Georgie whispered.

“No it's not.” My voice was slow and groggy. “I need to tell him that I'm sorry and that . . . that I love him.”

“Daddy knows, Armani. I know that for sure—Daddy knows.”

A tear ran down my cheek and onto my brother.

The swing looked different—all white and bright. But when I closed my eyes—putting my focus on my ears—my heart took hold and the swing felt and sounded the same.